REVIEW: Kubo and the Two Strings

I have a horrible confession to make. I did not go see Kubo and the Two Strings when it was in theaters last summer. Worse yet, I instead went to go see a certain other movie, which shall remain nameless. You can imagine how bad I feel, especially since that movie went on to be a box office smash while Kubo just barely earned its budget back. The two came out within a week of each other; objectively, I am part of the reason Kubo failed, and let me tell you that nothing makes me feel worse. This is an incredible film that deserves every ounce of respect and acclaim it receives, and then some. Hopefully, this Review will suffice as an act of penance, inspiring you to check it out and guarantee it a good afterlife on home video.

Brought to us by the geniuses at Laika, the plot follows the story of a young, one-eyed boy named Kubo (Game of Thrones' Art Parkinson). He lives in a secluded mountain in ancient Japan with his ailing mother, telling stories to the locals with the assistance of his magical shamisen. After getting caught outside after dark, Kubo is forced to flee his home, constantly pursued by his wicked aunts (Rooney Mara) and his grandfather, The Moon King (Ralph Feinnes), who hope to rob him of his other eye. Displaced from his home and his family, Kubo is joined by the gruff, protective Monkey (Charlize Theron) and an amnesiac samurai who was cursed to take the form of a giant beetle (Matthew McConaughey); together, they set out to find his father's enchanted armor and defeat his evil grandfather once and for all.

As one would expect from a Laika film, Kubo is animated entirely through the use of stop-motion animation. Laika has a knack for setting the bar in terms of visual excellence with each release, and this is no exception; Kubo and the Two Strings is one of the most visually stunning pieces of art I've ever seen. There's bustling towns full of lively extras, pulse-pounding action sequences, and massive, intricate creatures, all animated frame by frame by frame by some of the most talented animators, artists, and puppeteers in the industry today. It almost feels like the animators are showing off at times, judging from how often we get a close-up of a character folding origami, handling a sword, or playing a stringed instrument, but frankly they deserve to boast as much as they please. The animation is so smooth, lively, and impressive that I almost forgot I was watching physical puppets interact with one another; its only detriment is that it sometimes looks too good, to the point that we're liable to forget the amount of physical work that went into bringing everything on screen to life. However, those moments when it dawns on you that every single thing on screen had to be sculpted, posed, and animated by hand (from the swooping paper figurines to each flowing strand of hair) are just as mind-blowing as they sound. The term "a feast for the eyes" is thrown around a lot these days, but it honestly doesn't do Kubo justice.

Laika has a talent for making films where the aesthetic is entirely vital to the tone and atmosphere of the film, and Kubo is no different. The story and plot conventions sound as though they're straight out of an actual Japanese legend, so the use of stop motion puppets gives everything an appropriately organic, folk-tale kind of feeling; combined with the narration at the beginning and end, it feels as though we're being told a story that was passed down through the generations. I get the same feeling watching this that I get when I watch a period piece or a Kurosawa samurai film, and that's mostly due to the incredible set design and visual style. A big part of what makes the film work is that it feels authentic (even though it's an original story, rather than an adaptation of any existing folklore) in terms of its visuals, music, and story.

For as much as I love the visuals here, the plot is just as deserving of praise. The story feels totally organic; there aren't any elements "for the kids" or "for the parents", it's simply concerned with being a good movie first and foremost, rather than appealing to any specific audience. I wouldn't really even call Kubo a children's movie; while it's colorful and animated and doesn't stray beyond PG territory, the tale it tells is very melancholy and refuses to talk down to its audience in any way. This is a true "all-ages" film, in that anyone, young or old, can find something to appreciate. I understand that major releases need to synergize with a studio's marketing departments, appealing to specific demographics and offering up ample opportunities for merchandise (on a totally unrelated note, check out this sweet clip of Justice League's new Batmobile design, now with MORE guns and missiles that really launch!). 

Really, this is a luxury that Laika, as a smaller studio, can readily afford, but I see no reason larger studios can't take the occasional risk and level with their audience. Kubo made lackluster returns at the box office because it was a low-key release surrounded by high-profile blockbusters; critically speaking, however, everyone loved it. If it had the exposure of other, more mainstream animated films, it would have been a huge financial success as well. Critics loved Kubo because it respected its audience. Themes of death, maturation, and loss are steeped deep within the movie's DNA, but not once does it feel like a dreary, unpleasant experience. It levels with its audience and accompanies them on a journey, rather than holding their hand, slapping on some blinders, and forcing them down a linear path. It's a film that, while not necessarily made for children, is definitely marketed to children; with that in mind, I think the film's approach to the story it sets out to tell is monumentally important. This is how you make a piece of art that has truly universal appeal.

I have not a single bad thing to say about Kubo and the Two Strings. I believe it to be Laika's finest film and one of the finest stop-motion pictures ever produced. Again, I deeply regret not seeing this last August when it was in theaters. Not only would I be happy to give the studio money for this, but I can safely say that this would have shown up at least twice on my End of the Year Retrospective. If you haven't seen Kubo, you need to atone for your mistake as I have. Track it down and check it out, I promise you won't be disappointed.

EDITORIAL: Is The Boxtrolls Secretly About Hashtag Activism?

With this blog well into its second year of existence, I saw fit to mix things up a little. Often times there will be specific facets of the various films I watch that are too superfluous to discuss within the confines of a Review (or perhaps they simply occur to me after the fact, as with this one). Operating under the presumption that anyone cares what I have to say about movies to begin with, I thought it might be fun to encapsulate these proverbial shower thoughts in brief editorial pieces, to be released whenever the mood strikes me. Think of them as short little bonus featurettes; miniature essays in which I can ramble on about something that may or may not have belonged in a proper Review, but which still holds enough of my interest that I see fit to formally discuss it.

Now I'm aware that that headline is a bit of a doozy, representing an almost comical leap of logic at first glance. But just stick with me here and I promise it'll all (hopefully) make sense by the end. After I'd finished reviewing The Boxtrolls, a curious thought occurred to me in regards to Archibald Snatcher, the seedy antagonist of the film (incidentally, spoiler alert from this point onward). As much as I enjoyed the look and mannerisms of the character, I felt as though the filmmakers could have done much more with him in terms of characterization and backstory. I wanted to learn more about who he was, but it was only a good while after I'd finished the film that I realized it may have told us more about Mr. Snatcher than I'd previously thought. There's a comical reveal in the latter half of the film in which the sultry songstress "Madame Frou Frou" turns out to actually have been Snatcher in disguise all along. The reveal is brushed under the rug as a simple gag (considering the town's higher-ups are all very much smitten with Frou Frou's beauty), but I began to wonder if there was more to this reveal than meets the eye.

We know that Snatcher hates and resents the "White Hats", the town's wealthy elite. Despite his anger towards them, he truly wishes he could replace his lowly red hat with a proper white one and join them at their lavish cheese-tastings (even though he himself is severely lactose intolerant). Alternatively, we have Eggs, the young boy raised by Boxtrolls. Like Snatcher, he feels as though he doesn't fit in as a human (Red Hat) and identifies himself more as a Boxtroll (White Hat). Theses are two characters, a protagonist and an antagonist, who feel uncomfortable in their own skin and feel as though they belong as someone/something else. During the climax, Snatcher yells at Eggs how society will "never accept" people like them. Factoring in Snatcher's cross-dressing, it's not difficult to make the connection between the plight of these two characters and the real-world discussion of gender identity. Which brings us to the very different ways these characters react to their respective situations.

On one side, we have Eggs. He identifies as a Boxtroll, making him, by default, a second-class citizen in a society that harbors gross misconceptions about Boxtroll culture and how they operate. He of course knows that Boxtrolls aren't malicious beasts who prey on children, and wishes that society would simply smarten up and embrace unity, rather than the lies and misgivings that are so prevalent in the dominant culture. On the other side, we have Snatcher. He too belongs to a downtrodden minority group (the Red Hats) and wishes he could be a respected member of society. However, rather than desiring unity, as Eggs does, Snatcher is consumed with spite. His is a desire, not for equality, but for revenge. Whereas Eggs simply wants equality for everyone, Snatcher wishes to see the roles reversed; the same unbalanced situation, only he is the one subjugating those he feels has personally wronged him. It dawned on me that this could definitely be commentary on the modern discussion of civil rights, and the various forms of activism displayed in response to political turmoil.

When faced with prejudice and societal inequity, Eggs leads by example, proving the bias and misinformation regarding Boxtrolls wrong through his noble, levelheaded deeds. Conversely, when faced with the same issue, Snatcher builds a massive steampunk robot and attempts to murder everyone. If this story took place in modern day, it's not a stretch to imagine Archibald Snatcher tweeting "#KILLALLWHITEHATS" before instigating violence at a once-peaceful protest. Maybe I'm looking too far into it (as people are wont to do), but the message that inequality of a different shade doesn't cancel out inequality of the past (or more simply, "two wrongs don't make a right") is as relevant today as it ever was. Laika has a knack for taking real social issues and converting it into a format which allows viewers of all ages to digest the meaning, even if they may or may not be familiar with the overall issue itself. I personally can't wait to see what they show us with Kubo and the Two Strings later this summer; like classic Pixar, I implicitly trust them to make something good.

REVIEW: The Boxtrolls

If there's one studio that has found its way into my good graces due to the sheer dedication and elbow grease evident in everything they produce, it would have to be Laika. The successor to the iconic Will Vinton Studios, Laika has found past success with Coraline and the all-around spectacular Paranorman (with the promising Kubo and the Two Strings releasing later this year). A release from Laika is sure to be a treat, which is why I was so excited to finally check out their 2014 film, The Boxtrolls. The entire ad campaign emphasized the staggering attention to detail and amount of manhours it took to produce everything we see on screen; it makes sense then that The Boxtrolls is easily Laika's most visually gorgeous (if not the most story-driven) entry to date.

Taking place in the fantastically Victorian town of Cheesebridge, the plot follows a boy called Eggs (Game of Thrones' Isaac Hempstead Wright); after being separated from his father as a baby, Eggs finds himself in the care of the Boxtrolls, a race of subterrainean goblins with a penchant for acquiring scrap and turning it into marvelous inventions. Trouble is stirred up by the underhanded pest exterminator, Archibald Snatcher (Ben Kingsley), who is hell-bent on eliminating the trolls (perceived as a threat by the residents of Cheesebridge) and earning himself a place amongst the town's cheese-loving elites. It's up to Eggs and a tenacious girl named Winnie (Elle Fanning) to put a stop to all this unfounded prejudice and save Eggs' adoptive family before it's too late.

As one would expect from Laika, this film is utterly gorgeous. The amount of moving characters on-screen at a time can verge on the absurd and the natural flow and weight everything has to it is a true testament to the amount of work that was clearly put into bringing this story to the screen. There's even a delightful mid-credits sequence featuring Richard Ayoade and Nick Frost that spells it out plainly in the event that any audience member didn't understand it just yet; everything you saw on screen, from the tiniest crumb of cheese to the tallest building, was a real, physical object that was constructed and manipulated for hours and hours by a dedicated team of artists and animators. Clearly there was some CGI used to clean things up in post (you can't exactly use stop-motion animation on anything in midair without the use of greenscreen technology), but I still had moments of realization where it dawned on me that things like physics and fabrics and wind all had to be animated by hand, rather than by an algorithm or engine. It's really quite stunning, in hindsight, and is worth the price of admission alone.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the story. While I adore the setting and cheekily macabre tone of the film, the pacing and story structure is sloppy at best; we never really get a feel for these characters in terms of their personalities. The closest thing we've got are two of Snatcher's henchmen, voiced by Ayoade and Frost; everyone does a solid job when it comes to voice acting, but there's hardly any depth to be found here (as opposed to something like Paranorman, a children's story that was the pure definition of "wise beyond its years"). Take Ben Kingsley's character for example; Mr. Snatcher is a wonderfully designed protagonist, with his greasy hair and spindly appendages. He's every cockney bad guy rolled into one and I immediately perked up every time he came on screen, since he was just so much fun to look at (and to listen to; Kingsley is flat-out unrecognizable here). However, we never really get a feel for who he is. We understand he wants to eat cheese with all the socialites (despite his horrid cheese allergy) and we understand he hates Winnie's father and we understand he hates the Boxtrolls, but we never understand why. The movie hints upon something interesting during the climax, but we're left wanting when it comes to some solid characterization, both for Snatcher and for everyone else.

While it's arguably the weakest film Laika has ever produced, that still places it leagues above the majority of children's entertainment available today. Its black, oddball sense of humor, whimsical tone, and obviously stunning visuals give it the feel of a macabre fairy tale (now that I think of it, I feel as though Laika may have a "type"). If you're looking for something cozy and visually engrossing, The Boxtrolls is certainly a solid option that's sure to delight.