REVIEW: Ivan the Incredible

You thought I was kidding, didn't you? Back last year, when I sat through Freddy Frogface, I knew that this would have to be next. But Ivan the Incredible is not the sort of thing that one just rushes into. Like deciding to willfully submit to torture, it's the kind of thing that requires not only a fair amount of consideration, but a soundly broken spirit. This is not a film for the faint of heart; I've just seen it and I'm still trying my best to make sense of it. Before we begin, it's worth noting that, in the film's home country of Denmark, it goes by the title of Gummi T, which roughly translates to Jelly T. The "T", in this case, stands for "Tarzan". Believe it or not, this is a detail that is very much relevant to the plot.

The film opens by introducing us to the main character, a young boy named Ivan. He lives alone with his father, a man who seems to be struggling with severe mental issues. For whatever reason, he idolizes the literary character of Tarzan and, believing that he embodies all that a man should be, decides to raise his son to follow in the footsteps of the Lord of the Apes. Ivan, it turns out, is bad at everything. Not only is he a scrawny wimp who gets bullied every day at school, but he's also illiterate and appears to suffer from some form of schizophrenia. Often he sneaks away to an abandoned warehouse he has filled with anthropomorphic trash-sculptures he has conversations with, like a page out of John Wayne Gacy's private notebook. Still following? Because we haven't even gotten to the witch.

You see, a wandering witch has come to town, peddling bonafide miracles. This puts her in direct competition with Ivan's father, who has recently taken up a career as a Coach. Not for a sports team or a school, just in general. For a fee, he will coach people. It was around the time he forced Ivan to climb a tree in front of the whole town (angrily berating him when he inevitably fails) that I realized this film was actually painting a stark portrait of the toll that unchecked psychological issues can take on familial relationships. Feeling desperate, Ivan goes to the witch in search of a miracle that will make him the best at everything. She obliges, telling him that the magic potion she's concocted will allow him to be the absolute best at whatever he wants to do, but only for a day. However, she forgets the one ingredient that limits the potion to only work for one day, which really seems like the worst mistake anyone in her position could possibly make, given the circumstances of what she was messing with.

Ivan goes to school next day, wielding his newfound godlike abilities like a school shooter. He terrorizes and publicly humiliates everyone and anyone who once mocked or questioned him without discretion or subtlety; at this point, I'm a hundred percent certain that someone could pass this off as a character drama about the dangers of unchecked mental illness. Now that he's the best at everything, Ivan's dad decides to accredit his son's unholy powers to his superb coaching strategy (despite said strategy boiling down to verbal abuse and reminders to be like Tarzan). This nets Ivan and his father immense wealth and fame the world over, as this awful piece of human garbage continues to neglect and exploit the talent that his only son attained through literal black magic. Eventually, Ivan tires of being his dad's mealticket and suffers a violent outburst that I can only describe as reminiscent of both Chronicle and Carrie. He immediately feels guilty, however, and reconciles with his deadbeat dad just in time for the witch to force-feed him the final ingredient, dooming him to a life of mediocrity once more. Roll credits.

It's a trip, that's for sure. Often I felt entranced by what I was watching, despite how ungodly ugly the entire thing is. This is the height of sweatshop CGI, lifting several models wholesale out of Freddy Frogface. Everyone's got the same beady, dead little eyes and stringy hair; I've seen bowel movements with a more appealing aesthetic than this movie. The animation is stiff, the lipsync is off, and absolutely none of this matters because look at the plot which I just described to you. This is a movie that does not fail because of its look. This is a movie that fails because of its everything. Every conceivable aspect of this film is just offputting, I honestly don't know what could have resulted in this being made. I considered making a "there's something rotten in the state of Denmark" joke here, but this movie has pushed me to my limit as it is, and I'm not entirely sure I want to take that final step off the ledge.

Ivan the Incredible. What a concept. It seems like the low-hanging fruit, when discussing a movie like this, to describe it as feeling like a look inside the mind of a serial killer. Having watched this in its entirety, I need to cast aside all pretenses and say that this movie seriously feels like the product of a diseased mind. It's so surreal, so mean-spirited, so ugly in every single sense of the word. I don't know who would make something like this and I don't know who would unironically enjoy it. That said, I kind of love it. It's exactly that kind of terrible, like The Room or Hard Ticket to Hawaii, where it's just so baffling that it's the perfect thing to lose yourself in while heavily under the influence and (hopefully) surrounded by friends. In that regard, I cannot recommend it enough, but do understand what you're getting yourself into. When you hit play on Ivan the Incredible, you're in for a wild ride.

Check back next year, when I finally get around to reviewing Otto the Rhino.

REVIEW: A Series of Unfortunate Events

If there's one thing I'm thankful for in this heyday of digital streaming, it's the wealth of opportunities the format presents to the field of adaptation. There are so many stories that simply wouldn't work as standard-length films; the idea that a but a single of George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire books would be condensed into a single two-hour film (roughly the equivalent of two episodes of Game of Thrones) is laughable. As technology has evolved, it has become a more feasible venture to adapt long-term stories into long-term series, as evidenced not only with Game of Thrones, but also with Netflix's latest offering, A Series of Unfortunate Events. I recall reading several of the books as a child and was excited to see the works of Lemony Snicket done justice (at least, moreso than the 2004 film adaptation starring Jim Carrey).

The story, as told by the enigmatic Snicket (Patrick Warburton), follows the three Baudelaire children; Violet (Malina Weissman), Klaus (Louis Hynes), and Sunny (Presley Smith). After their parents are killed in a mysterious fire, the three orphans are carted off to their (physically) closest living relative, a sinister actor by the name of Count Olaf (Neil Patrick Harris). As is stated in their parents' will, the children are to inherit an enormous fortune once Violet comes of age; it is Olaf's ambition to seize the Baudelaire fortune in any way that he can. The series follows the three children as they are sent from guardian to guardian, constantly pursued by Olaf and his troupe of villainous acting buddies. The events that transpire are sardonic, macabre, and, as the title would imply, unfortunate.

The first season of the show covers the first four books in the series: The Bad Beginning, The Reptile Room, The Wide Window, and The Miserable Mill. Each book takes up two episodes and each episode clocks in at more or less an hour a piece. It's one of the neatest formats I've ever seen for a series such as this, keeping everything organized and easy to absorb. The 2004 film condensed the first three books into a single movie, sacrificing the subtle, methodical tone and pacing of the source material. Here, everything unfolds at a perfectly respectable rate, not too quickly and not too slowly. This is definitely a point in the show's favor, considering this is a series which aims for a decidedly younger crowd than the bloody action of Daredevil or the existential dread of Bojack Horseman. 

I can easily see some criticizing the show of losing sight of its target audience; while the books can be found in elementary school libraries, the show's dry tone and drab, stylized visual style may be a turn-off for the younger crowd. While I can agree that not every child will be taken in by what this show has to offer, I feel as though those who enjoy things on the macabre side will greatly enjoy themselves. This is very much a show for the bookworms, packed to the brim with literary humor and colorful language. That is to say nothing of the underlying theme of the whole thing; at the heart of the Baudelaire's plight is the sad, simple truth that adults often just don't listen to children. The siblings are all very intelligent, well-spoken, and well-read, yet are constantly held back by their age. Nearly every authority figure they come across is either condescending, naive, villainous, or some combination thereof; it's very much a tale for kids who feel disenfranchised and talked-down to by authority figures, and it gets this message across in superb form.

That said, I do have my share of nitpicks to address as well. While I adore the set design and visual style of the series (which implements sharp, contrasting colors and striking anachronisms to create a sort of hybrid aesthetic between early Tim Burton and Pushing Daisies), the use of CGI is simply painful in most cases. I don't fault the showrunners for using digital effects to portray giant leeches gnawing through a boat hull or a baby gnawing bark off a log; in those cases, it actually looks mostly passable for an online series. But I don't understand why, with all the gorgeous (and likely expensive) practical sets, they felt the need to use digital effects for something as simple as a shot of the main characters riding a trolly. It's something that completely pulled me out of this unique, immersive world whenever it showed up. I can only hope, with the massive acclaim the series has been receiving, that Season 2 will see an increased budget.

I also feel as though the show sometimes thinks it's a bit more clever than it really is; while I love the various literary references, absurdist humor, and dry dialog exchanges, the show can sometimes layer it on a bit too thick. Though that may just be my jaded cynicism talking. I did, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoy the performances of all the main cast. The show boasts talent such as Alfre Woodard, Aasif Mandvi, and Catherine O'Hara, and no one at all feels wasted. The three Baudelaires all do well as young protagonists, coming off as believable, capable, and relatable without once coming off as grating (important for any story starring children, absolutely vital for this particular property). As is to be expected, the one who steals the show is Neil Patrick Harris as Count Olaf (though my personal favorites were his acting troupe).

The role was formerly filled by Jim Carrey in the aformentioned film, so it's safe to say that Harris had some rather large shoes to fill; the character of Count Olaf is one who operates on theatricality and trickery, adopting various disguises in an attempt to swindle the Baudelaires out of their family fortune. Thankfully, NPH pulls it off with aplomb, burying himself under tons of prosthetic makeup and seemingly having a ball. I do wish that his character had more chances to come off as genuinely threatening (since he's responsible for some genuinely uncomfortable moments early on in the series), but even his goofy showmanship is fun and engaging to watch. Carrey's take on Olaf was undoubtedly the strongest aspect of the 2004 adaptation, and the same is true of Neil Patrick Harris' performance here.

Regardless of the various disclaimers presented by the very catchy theme song, I do heartily recommend you check out A Series of Unfortunate Events. There may not be much here for those who didn't grow up with the books, but I still found myself having a fun, engaging time watching it. The underlying lore of the source material is definitely more pronounced here than in the books, since the show explores other characters from time to time, aside from the three main children. The mystery which runs through the story of the Baudelaire orphans is interesting enough to keep the audience engaged, leading up to a fabulous end-of-season twist that has me eager to come back for more. It's a drier, darker, more subversive breed of children's entertainment that I feel the world could always use more of. Definitely give it a watch.

REVIEW: Mystery Team

Oftentimes, when deciding what to watch for this blog, I'll select a movie I've been intending to watch for some time but have never gotten around to. Other times, I'll revisit an old favorite to see if there's anything new to be gleaned. And other times, I'll just pop onto Netflix and mash play on the first thing that looks mildly interesting, such as with this week's viewing, Mystery Team. 

Created by and starring the Derrick Comedy trio (Donald Glover, Dominick Dierkes, and DC Pierson), the movie follows the titular Mystery Team, a would-be detective agency run by a trio of pals who never outgrew their passion for solving neighborhood mysteries. It's essentially a Venture Bros-esque take on franchises like The Hardy Boys and The Babysitter's Club; what if these precocious kids were in modern-day high school, but still spent their free time finding lost pets and kidnapped dollies? As if the anachronistic contrast of Little Rascals-style antics in contemporary suburbia wasn't enough, the gang is faced with a new case that's more than a little outside of their wheelhouse when a neighborhood girl (Daphne Ciccarelle) asks them to find out who murdered her parents. What follows is an irreverent comedy sketch that lasts about an hour and a half.

It's worth noting that, as if it wasn't already obvious, this movie essentially runs off of one joke; that these dorky, squeaky-clean dweebs who usually rescue marbles from storm drains are tasked with investigating a grisly double-homicide. As one might expect, this is something of a double-edged sword. Sometimes it works phenomenally well (such as whenever Donald Glover attempts to use disguises and fake personas to sneak into areas of interest) and other times it falls flat (such as when DC Pierson's character explains how he drank dog urine in an attempt to rid himself of bacteria). It's a single recurring joke that, to the film's credit, usually works out pretty effectively. The natures of these characters lend themselves well to individual scenes, which can play out more or less like sequential sketches. You can dump the trio of naive protagonists in, say, a seedy gentlemen's club, and it more or less writes itself. It's when the film has to stop being a series of amusing setpieces and focus on plot that it tends to slow down and fumble, turning totally generic at the absolute worst. The entire thing starts off with this genuinely weird, laugh-out-loud sense of energy that it just can't keep up for the entirety of its runtime. As I said, it's a joke that usually works, but it's the moments where it doesn't that drag this film down and keep it from being something really special.

That said, I do have to applaud the spirit of this film; it's entirely unashamed of how outright silly it is and appears to have an immense amount of fun with itself. This strikes me as one of those projects where everyone involved had a blast while making it. I imagine a lot of improv and laughter shared over table reads and on set. I also get the sense that this is the kind of project that is funnier to the people who made it than it is to the audience, but that feeling of earnestness still manages to come through in the end result. As I said, this is basically a 90-minute comedy sketch. It's the kind of thing that would never fly with a major studio and works very well within that "improv troupe" mindset. While it's not perfect, I can at least appreciate the originality of the concept and how well that concept was realized, considering what a small-scale production this was. It's irreverent and goofy, from time to time it's outright stupid, but it still gave me a genuine laugh at several points throughout its runtime. 

At the end of it all, I'm left with the question of whether or not I would recommend anyone watch Mystery Team. Admittedly, I'm a little torn. On one hand, it's definitely not for everyone. There's an abundance of "dumb" humor, laden with poop and swearing and vomit. That said, all of that dumb humor is delivered by very smart comedians, all with impeccable senses of timing and tone. It didn't always hit for me, but when it did I was left cackling like a lunatic. Like a lot of comedy, I feel like Mystery Team is just one of those things that comes down to a matter of taste. I could very easily see someone having a ball with this, but I can also see someone finding it to be a completely mindless waste of time. Going off of the premise alone, you can probably discern where you lie on that spectrum; I find myself somewhere in the middle. I had my fun with Mystery Team, but I'm not sure I'll ever feel the need to watch it again. Take that as you will.