Happy 75th Birthday Bugs Bunny!

What's up, doc? I'll tell you what's up. Today marks the 75th birthday of Warner Bros' stalwart mascot Bugs Bunny, the star of Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons. This means it's been 75 years since his official debut, in 1940's A Wild Hare, the first of many shorts in which he was pitted against would-be hunter Elmer Fudd, whose ever-futile objective to 'kill the wabbit' has provided decades of entertainment worldwide. But how did the carrot-chomping, wise-cracking silver screen stoic first develop?

What is now regarded as a prototypical version of Bugs Bunny is seen in the 1938 short Porky's Hare Hunt, though little is identifiably 'Bugs' besides the long ears and fluffy tail. Indeed, Bugs appeared to evolve from a much simpler, one-dimensional character - Happy Rabbit - who went on to star in several shorts up to and including 1940. In Elmer's Candid Camera (1940) we see what were in fact the foundations of a comedy pairing that was to grace the screen for decades to come - but it wasn't until A Wild Hare that Bugs and Elmer had evolved, more or less, into how we might visualise the characters today, despite Bugs' 'Happy Rabbit' persona having been previously credited as 'Bugs Bunny' in the earlier short Elmer's Pet Rabbit (1940).

By 1940, Bugs' persona had evolved substantially, mostly due to Mel Blanc's voice characterisation. Having initially allocated a Woody Woodpecker-esque vocal and guffaw to his prototype, Blanc gave Bugs a distinctive New York accent which helped shape his character into someone somewhat edgier and less goofy-sounding. By 1942, Bugs had surpassed Porky Pig in popularity, and became their star and icon throughout the war period. This era enabled the establishment of the character as a cultural icon, raising spirits throughout the Second World War.

Afterwards, Bugs maintained his popularity, starring in the role of the 'straight man' opposite recently established rival Daffy Duck, who too had evolved by the 1950s from his wacky, screwball roots into a more mature comic foil. The cartoons most often noted for having kick-started this rivalry comprise the 'Rabbit Season/Duck Season' trilogy, directed by Chuck Jones, which is regarded by many as his crowning achievement. The shorts are Rabbit Fire (1951), Rabbit Seasoning (1952) and Duck! Rabbit, Duck! (1953). Bugs also starred in a number of music-based shorts, including 1950's Rabbit of Seville and Chuck Jones' 1957 classic What's Opera, Doc? Both shorts derive inspiration from previous efforts to juxtapose Bugs alongside the hapless hunter, simultaneously combining the comedy pairing with classical music parodies, the latter of which became the first short to be inducted into the National Film Registry in 1992. Bugs' versatility also resulted in his being juxtaposed against an array of adversaries, including Yosemite Sam, Rocky and Mugsy, Marvin the Martian and the Tasmanian Devil, as well as some memorable one-shot characters such as Pete Puma.

Bugs' final cartoon appearance of the 'Golden Age' was in 1964's False Hare, which sees him outsmart a dim-witted wolf and his inanely detached nephew. Following the initial closing of the Warner Bros Studios and the subsequent establishment of Depatie-Freleng Enterprises, there was a notable Bugs Bunny drought. Despite the continuation of The Bugs Bunny Show on ABC and CBS, Bugs made no appearances outside of the bridging sequence format until Bugs and Daffy's Carnival of the Animals, a 1976 television special. A number of other TV special appearances meant that he starred in several new shorts - the first since 1964 - and he also starred in several theatrical compilation films including The Bugs Bunny/Road Runner Movie (1979) and Daffy Duck's Quackbusters (1988), featuring the final theatrical appearance of Mel Blanc as his voiceover artist.

It was not, however, until 1990 when Bugs Bunny made his comeback to the theatrical short following a hiatus which lasted more than two decades. The short was titled Box Office Bunny, and saw voice actor Jeff Bergman assume the role. In 1996, Bugs starred alongside Michael Jordan in Joe Pytka's Space Jam, voiced by Billy West, and in 1999, Bugs became the star of his first ever PlayStation video-game based on his Golden Age shorts, Bugs Bunny Lost in Time, which later spawned an indirect sequel Bugs Bunny and Taz: Time Busters. During the early noughties, Bugs also starred in a number of shorts and web-toons, as well as the 2003 live-action/animation-hybrid Looney Tunes Back in Action - a movie that was undeservedly panned upon release. Since, Bugs has undergone something of a makeover (again) for The Looney Tunes Show, a series which debuted in 2011 and concluded after two reasonably successful seasons.

And there you have it. Bugs Bunny's 75-year career condensed in a single blog post. Naturally, a great deal of significant moments in Bugs' history have been omitted, but it seemed appropriate to acknowledge the character's longevity. Call him whatever you want - varmint, wascally wabbit, camera hog... With new series Wabbit in the pipeline, due for release later this year, this long-eared, carrot-chomping septuagenarian doesn't look set to retire to his burrow any time soon.

Inside 'Inside Out': A Review

From director Pete Docter, the man behind the monsters, comes Disney/Pixar's Inside Out, arguably their most daring and intricate film to date. Prior to viewing it, I have to admit I had reservations. Pixar's winning streak was irrefutably tarnished four years ago by the plot-hole-laden (or is that pothole-laden?) Cars 2 (2011). Moreover, their subsequent features seemed to lack the originality than once delineated the company as world-class innovators in animation. But this film had potential. As a film whose plot predominantly takes place in the human mind, its concept sounded unique, and its characters looked bright and cheerful in all promos and teasers. That said, the concept, though unique, sounded like a somewhat laboured attempt to return Pixar to its pedestal where it belongs. The question is, with a concept this audacious, have they redeemed themselves, or are they out of their minds?

Inside Out focuses on Riley (Kaitlyn Dias), an 11-year-old girl whose recent move to San Francisco from Minnesota has cost her her friends, her hockey team and her family, which is seemingly drifting apart. Inside her mind (referred to as 'HeadQuarters'), her five primary emotions, Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear and Disgust, act as her guides, responsible for her decisions and emotional expression. Joy (Amy Poehler) represents a pixie-like ringleader, keeping Riley upbeat for the majority of her childhood. However, Riley's increasing mental anguish means Sadness (Phyllis Smith) looks set to take the helm, and Joy's uneasiness and subsequent attempts to restrict her activity ultimately result in the pair's unintentional desertion of HeadQuarters, leaving Anger, Fear and Disgust in charge. Joy and Sadness' journey takes them both deep into Riley's subconscious mind, as they attempt to find their way back to HeadQuarters with the help of Riley's imaginary friend Bing Bong (Richard Kind). It's smart, it's funny and, it being Pixar, it's expectedly touching.

Thematically, Inside Out diverges from its pretence as family-friendly fare within its first half hour, presenting what is essentially a narrative of the devolvement of protagonist Riley into a tortuous spiral of depression following the family’s move. Indeed the story of the inside of Riley’s mind is a greatly deceiving one. On the outside, Inside Out appears colourful, airy and child-friendly, when conceptually, the narrative represents a profoundly mature one, covering themes such as emotional maturity, apathy and isolation, as well as one which emphasises the importance of embracing a variety of emotions. Such themes are generally alien to the average animated flick. In fact, their presence, while arguably innovative, feels somewhat out of place with regards to the marketing of the film, whose bright, colourful characters have no doubt graced many a child’s toy chest in the form of a stuffed plaything or inane talking doll. The question on my mind throughout was ‘who exactly is the target audience for this?’

Despite the fun, bright character designs, the story is a complex one – one so complex I doubt very much that young audiences would appreciate it. Of course, there’s no disclaimer prior to the feature indicating that the film intends to pertain solely to kids (it doesn’t, by any means), but marketing-wise, it was a peculiar choice to exploit the film’s characters in the form of a variety of plush dolls when the film itself maintains a rather dark and lugubrious tone throughout. Heck, on more than one occasion, I choked up a bit! But this review isn’t about the merchandising; it’s about the film itself, which, in reality, contrary to what all the trailers and merchandise would have you believe, is not, repeat, NOT a kids’ film.

Needless to say, praise must be given for the film’s visuals, which are expectedly top-notch. The character designs, the malleable animation style, and the locations are all awe-inspiring. Visually, Pixar’s films have never faltered, and this feature is no exception. The film’s setting within Riley’s mind is both creative and beautifully crafted, while the transitions between there and the outside world are smooth and seamless. It’s a clever concept, and although the film’s main story arc – that of Riley’s losing herself and sinking into a depression – is not a cheerful one, ultimately the visuals succeed in giving the film some much-needed levity.

Narratively, the story does enough to evince emotion from the casual viewer - particularly if you're an adult. The trailers, the movie posters, and even the film's opening scene are all deceptively light, warm and fuzzy when the film itself is altogether rather dark. This isn't a bad thing by any means - in fact, praise should be given for Pixar's daringly mature storytelling. That said, while it is intelligent, there are aspects of the film that feel as though it's too clever for its own good, and on more than one occasion the script feels like a recitation from a self-help guide. Regardless, all loose ends are eventually tied up, and it feels satisfying, and even cathartic, by its conclusion, in spite of its occasional pretentiousness.

In terms of the film's design, conceptually, it cannot be stated that it's flawless - but its flaws are wholly subjective depending on the leniency of the viewer. A problem with the film that audiences may have to overcome is its reductive attitude towards the complexity of the human mind, condensing it into only five states of consciousness – Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear and Disgust. Naturally, however, given the complexity and ambitiousness of the film as it is, it seems a sensible idea to limit its scope. Likewise, Bing Bong's character design feels like a basic rehash of every other imaginary character to ever grace the silver screen. Yet this renders the film no less effective, story-wise; it simply works, and that's all that matters.

Ultimately, it's difficult to summarise one's thoughts on the film in its entirety. Visually, for the most part, it's incredible, and exceedingly creative. But conceptually, this may be too confusing a concept for younger audiences to grasp. Of course, this doesn't mean the film itself is bad, but it's advisable to proceed with caution. Pixar's latest effort might look like mindless entertainment, but inside, its story is a profoundly mature, metaphorical one that only an adult mind can appreciate. Scratch beneath that colourful surface and you'll find the inside of Inside Out is altogether rather grey. This is an adult film masquerading as toddler fodder - look beyond its pretences and your mind will be blown.

 

New Promo Video! Watch Here!

Hi guys!

I am very proud to unveil a brand new promotional video for 'i don't have a nose'. Thanks to everyone for your support, and long may this blog continue! I have some themed months planned for the future, so keep returning for more updates.

Thank you, each!

Michael and Felix.

 

PS: Remember to follow me @felixidhan. Thanks guys!

 



Disney’s Biggest Hit: An Analysis of ‘Frozen’

Caution: Spoilers!

There’s no doubting the success of Frozen (2013). Disney’s 53^rd animated feature has taken the world by (snow)storm and continues to be viewed as one of the best films that they have ever released. Personally, however, I’m somewhat bemused as to why this is, particularly considering the high quality of the films that preceded it, such as Wreck-It Ralph (2012) and Tangled (2010), and even the film that followed, the underrated Big Hero 6 (2014). Deconstructing the Disney hit, it becomes clear that Frozen isn’t nearly as cohesive a film as you’d expect – and it’s profoundly flawed. The following analysis explains precisely why the recent classic left me feeling, well, a little cold.

Firstly, the movie appears to be somewhat disjointed, almost as though they were toying with too many concepts at once. Consequently, nothing is explained. We learn nothing concerning Kristoff’s background other than that he is an experienced iceman. His adoptive family, the trolls, also lack development. Who are they? How did they come to be here, and why? And how on earth did Elsa’s father know about them and their healing powers? We’ll never know – these questions are never addressed. More importantly, Elsa’s powers are never fully explained. I appreciate it’s a fairy tale but it still needs to make sense. The father specifies that she was born with the powers rather than cursed, but once again it’s never explained why. And that’s ultimately the biggest flaw this film has – nothing is explained!

Following the film chronologically, Elsa is then quarantined off from everybody, while Anna’s memory is wiped in order to forget her magical powers. Once again, my question is WHY?! Elsa manages to subdue her powers by wearing gloves. This is proven on the day of her coronation, and everything is perfectly fine. If this is possible, why does she remain in hiding? On coronation day (which also frankly makes no sense – who the hell was running the kingdom during the three years following the king and queen’s deaths?!) Anna meets Hans, Prince of the Southern Isles, to whom she becomes engaged later that day, following a rather irritating pop song ‘Love is an Open Door’, which utilises modern-day phraseology to a jarringly cringe-worthy effect – a purposeful anachronism that seriously does not work. Elsa’s powers are then revealed before the townspeople, and she escapes, leaving Arendelle in an ‘eternal winter’. Subsequently, Anna decides to go after her, leaving the prince she just met barely five minutes ago in charge of the entire kingdom (what?!).

Elsa retreats to the mountains, where she builds herself an ice fortress, for no real reason other than to show off her powers in High Definition. This is accompanied by the best song in the film, ‘Let It Go’. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. Meanwhile, Anna meets Kristoff and his reindeer Sven, who for some reason acts like a dog. How original. It’s not as though I’ve seen a hoofed animal act like a dog before… *cough*Tangled*cough*. Kristoff appears to exhibit some kind of bizarre, almost symbiotic relationship with Sven, speaking for him on numerous occasions as though they’re engaging in conversation. O…kay then. Moving on. The film’s focus then completely shifts to Anna, the ordinary sister, and her relationship with Kristoff. This is a bizarre and frankly major missed opportunity for Disney – Elsa could potentially be one of the most interesting, complex characters they ever created. Instead, they push her into the background. Nothing is explained concerning her powers, nothing! Is it caused by anguish, or fear, or anger, or sadness, or what? It’s never made clear. We gather that it’s invoked by some kind of mental torment, but, bafflingly, she was forbidden from showing her powers after having struck Anna – yet when she struck Anna she was happy, playing. So what exactly is she protecting her from?

Anna and Kristoff then meet the always-annoying and very-occasionally-funny snowman Olaf, who for no other reason than to pad out the film with filler, yearns for summer. The accompanying song also serves little purpose in terms of the film’s narrative. What’s more, Anna seems to remember Olaf from when she was younger – yet how can she if her memory of Elsa’s powers had been erased? But that’s a minor issue. My main problem with this character is that he is pointless. You might argue that he’s a side-character, but even the most irritating of the side-characters in previous Disney films served a purpose. In The Princess and the Frog (2009), Louis the alligator yearns to be human, and so has a logical motive for joining the protagonists on their quest, while Timon and Pumbaa in The Lion King (1994) represent an antagonistic, dissuasive conscience which helps to facilitate the narrative. But Olaf has no reason to accompany Anna, Kristoff and Sven, other than to witness the return of summer in an incredibly thin subplot – one which is used as a poor excuse for a song. It’s not clever, it’s not funny – it’s just lazy writing. 

Later, Anna ascends the staircase of the ice castle to confront Elsa, introducing her to Olaf. Elsa seems amazed by the fact that Olaf is alive – that she created life – and yet within minutes she conjures a giant snowman to guard her castle. If she didn’t know she could do it, how did she do it again?! After Elsa freezes Anna’s heart, they meet the trolls, and we endure another catchy but pointless song, concerning the relationship between Kristoff and Anna. It’s okay… but very pointless, as their relationship never actually blossoms, and it therefore serves no purpose to the narrative. In fact, saying that, there’s little point in any of the development of their relationship, as a true romance is never realised by the film’s culmination. This is fortunate in one sense, as otherwise the film’s message would be extremely contradictory; Anna is with Kristoff for barely any longer than she was with Hans (everyone gave her grief for that engagement, but nobody seems to care about Kristoff). But in another sense, it means that much of the film’s focus is completely misguided. Why do they give so much screen time to Anna and Kristoff when it isn’t relevant to the plot? 

They return to Arendelle soon afterwards, with the intention of finding Hans; as the trolls said, only an act of true love can unfreeze a frozen heart (again, why is this when a frozen head can be unfrozen in an instant?). Then, we get the big twist: Hans is evil, and merely wants Anna’s hand in marriage so that he can usurp the throne. A good twist, right? Um, well… it doesn’t really add up. If Hans’ intention was to take over the kingdom, why didn’t he when he had the chance? Anna essentially gave it to him! What’s more, he winds up lying that he and Anna said their marriage vows anyway, so why did he not simply kill Elsa on the mountain? Better yet, why did he venture out at all? It makes no sense.

The ending is also severely problematic. I appreciate what they were trying to do – instead of the ‘true love’s kiss’ cliché, they wanted to present us with an alternative, more feminist-friendly interpretation of true love. Now, I have no problem with this scene alone. In fact, I find it fairly admirable, in the sense that it is not only original, but more fitting for a contemporary audience. But in the context of the movie, it just doesn’t work. For more than half of the film, Anna and Kristoff’s relationship appears to represent one of the main themes, but it’s entirely disregarded in a shameful, last-minute, self-aggrandising attempt to confront the traditional, and to give the film a semblance of uniqueness and modernity in its final moments. That’s not ground-breaking; that’s bad writing. As a result, it’s incredibly anticlimactic. Finally, Elsa’s ‘winter’ is lifted after Elsa learns to love… somehow. I’m not quite sure how that works. I mean, when did she ever stop loving? She loved her sister so much, she locked herself away to protect her (even though she wore gloves all the time anyway…), and her parents clearly loved her too, so how on earth does exclaiming ‘Love! Of course, love!’ help in any way? Again, it makes no sense!

Overall, this film is a shambles, saved only by a decent soundtrack (though there have been far better in Disney’s canon). Part of the problem is that it’s unclear what the film is trying to be. The opening scenes feel very much like an adult musical, yet the scenes after ‘Let It Go’ seem to take a different direction entirely, turning it into some kind of child-friendly adventure story. In all, it’s very patchy and disjointed, and altogether doesn’t add up. Frozen’s success can surely only be put down to the effects of merchandising and their exploitation of the Disney Princess franchise. The songs are decent, but nothing special, and story-wise the film is severely problematic, laden with plot-holes. Disney have since announced that there is to be a sequel (which will no doubt, too, be godawful), but, on a personal note, now that it’s been two years since its initial release, particularly in light of its obvious flaws, I think it’s about time people let it go.

New: Danger Mouse Promo Video

Good grief! A new promo video of the brand new series of Danger Mouse, along with a preview of its newly recorded theme song, has been unveiled on YouTube. The long-running series, originally produced by Cosgrove/Hall, ran for more than a decade, from 1981 to 1992, and featured the voices of David Jason and Terry Scott, as the one-eyed white wonder and his associate, hopeless hamster Penfold. The new series sees comedians Alexander Armstrong and Kevin Eldon assume their roles respectively, and the new video showcases their voiceovers, albeit briefly. So, what do we notice so far?

Well, the first thing I noticed was that the programme appears to be flash animated, as opposed to utilising traditional methods, as practised by Cosgrove/Hall. This may not be of any great concern to many, as the original show’s appeal mostly stemmed from its surreal and frankly very British humour rather than its animation, which remained of a consistently low budget. All the same, it does rather detract from the show’s overall aesthetic, even if the flash animation is of a particularly high standard. There’s something so distinctively unmemorable and mechanical about flash animation, not to mention the fact that it seems to be becoming increasingly ubiquitous. Even children’s series Arthur abandoned traditional methods in favour of flash a few years ago, and it looks noticeably inferior compared to the show in its earlier episodes. One can only hope that it doesn’t downgrade the white wonder to any great extent. If the writing is of a decent quality, this shouldn’t represent too much of a problem.

In addition, the theme music has remained essentially the same, with the same lyrics and melody, only spiced up a little to maintain the programme’s more modern reinvention. Personally, I don’t have a problem with this, though I’ve already heard complaints concerning the theme’s remastering. Realistically speaking though, the theme needed updating in order to gain new followers, and the original is fairly dated by comparison. This is a new series for a new generation, and deserves a reboot. What’s more, any hard-core fans of the original have to accept that it could have been worse – the original theme might have been sacrificed entirely, and that would never do.

Finally, we get a very brief soundbite of the new voiceovers, which, I have to say, I have mixed feelings about. Alexander Armstrong actually sounds like a very good likeness to the original David Jason, and his refined, British accent is perfectly suited, though I can’t help but feel as though it will reinforce the programme’s conveyance as a weaker imitation of the original. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it already implies that the revamp will pale in comparison as a mere copy. Penfold, meanwhile, suffers from a completely different issue, in that Eldon’s vocals sound nothing like the late Terry Scott’s, and he therefore seems to lack that likeable, cowardly whine characteristic of the white wonder’s incompetent associate. Admittedly, it’s only a brief clip we get to hear in the video, but it doesn’t instil me with confidence, knowing that Penfold perhaps resembled the funniest aspect of the original series, and the vocals helped facilitate the comedy a great deal.

One thing that worries me in particular is that the new series may not appeal to as broad an audience as the original series. The promo appears to be very action-heavy, which isn’t what Danger Mouse was all about. While there’s not enough in the video to form a judgement in this case, it remains of concern to me that those in charge of the revamp might have missed the point.

Regardless, we won’t know for sure whether the show will be successful until it finally airs, or indeed whether Danger Mouse will be as great and fantastic as he was more than two whole decades ago. I must admit, however, that I’m not quite amazed or astounded just yet. It’s clear that the show’s creators have put a great deal of thought into the design of the show, not to mention its allegiance to the original series, but any remnants of what made the original series so appealing is yet to be seen.

Watch the teaser below:

The Future On Film: What If ‘Futurama’ Were Made Into a Movie?

If I had to decide which of Matt Groening’s hit animated sitcoms was more deserving of a theatrical release, it would not have been The Simpsons. But, of course, in 2007, the inevitable happened, and TV’s favourite family hit the big screen, with critics worldwide lauding it, regardless of its true quality. We all knew it would happen. Since the Tracey Ullman shorts in 1987, The Simpsons has blossomed into one of the greatest television series of all time; such a remarkable feat needed some kind of cinematic tribute acknowledging its longevity. True, it was deserved, although I’ve personally always considered Groening’s ‘other’ show, the oft-maligned Futurama, to be more suited for a cinematic release. To begin with, the visuals would be sublime. As a sci-fi comedy, creatively, there would be endless potential for a theatrical release. And that got me thinking, in the same vein as the ‘anthologies of interest’, what if it were to get a theatrical adaptation following its second cancellation?

Ignoring the fact that it would be highly unlikely, Futurama has far more theatrical appeal, visually, than The Simpsons, which remains strictly a TV affair. Indeed, the former maintains a more ‘epic’ feel. The CG space visuals, the colours, the characters – they would make for a great movie. Since 1999, the misadventures of delivery boy Philip J. Fry have graced the airwaves on and off for fourteen years or so, and since the series tells a definite story, a cinematic release may, at some point in the show’s history, have been a smart move. I’ve always thought so. For one thing, it would have been a great way to reel in a new wave of potential fans. But then that got me wondering whether it would still be a good idea, after having endured seven long production seasons.

Problem 1: Continuity

A Futurama theatrical release undoubtedly has its disadvantages, particularly in terms of the show’s ongoing story arcs. Unlike its big yellow brother, Futurama maintains a chronology that is pertinent to the development of its characters, arching narrative, and its followers. Since the programme’s inception, certain events were planned in advance, with many later episodes referring back to the events of the pilot and early episodes. There’s a continuity involved which, while still somewhat rather loosely abided by, makes it difficult for the series to stray from its familiar 22-minute format. With a theatrical release, it’s likely that all such vital occurrences would either be disregarded or downplayed in an attempt to appeal more so to the casual viewer. The difficulty lies in the fact that, while adhering to an episodic structure, Futurama does have a story to it – that of pizza delivery boy Philip J. Fry’s being forced to wake one thousand years in the future as the sole hope of the universe. There would likely be no such drive felt in a theatrical feature, as any regard to this would likely pertain only to hard-core fans of the series.

Problem 2: Format

Another issue is the issue of pacing. Although The Simpsons Movie (2007) was a box office success, much of this success can probably be attributed to their already exalted status as the arguable king of the animated sitcom. The movie wasn’t bad as such – it just felt tired, forgettable, and essentially just like an extended episode that was unsurprisingly light on laughs. Futurama would likely suffer from a similar problem – in fact it already has. The show’s fifth production season was initially distributed as a series of four straight-to-DVD movies, split up into four-part episodes for television. Technically, these are extended episodes rather than movies, but the principle is the same. The first of the ‘movies’, and arguably the best, Bender’s Big Score (2007) represented a tremendous comeback, but provided very little for new viewers to become heavily invested, relying too much on call-backs and an alienating, complex plot to impress fans. It was good, but something only the already-established Futurama viewer could appreciate.

The specials that followed were less convoluted, but altogether proved rather slow and hard to swallow in a single 90-minute sitting. The Beast With a Billion Backs (2008) is weird even by Futurama’s standards and ultimately peters out into a black hole by its conclusion, leaving you wondering just what the hell happened. Bender’s Game (2008), meanwhile, represents something of an anomaly: its first half exhibits some of the best comedy and character interactions since the original series, which concluded in its prime in 2003. But the second half, a weak, feeble and frankly lazy Lord of the Rings/Dungeons and Dragons parody, laden with incongruous toilet humour, sadly renders the special one of the Planet Express crew’s worst ever outings. The final special, Into the Wild Green Yonder (2009) is another contender for the title of the best of the films, being as its pacing is far more even than that of its predecessors. A major problem with this film, aside from its occasional forced humour, is its dispersal of the main ensemble – which consequently results in the abandonment of an emotional underscore which was boasted by the original series as one of its prime appeals. The Futurama we know has heart, and pulls off emotional scenes with a stirring finesse that sets it apart from its prime time competitors. Instead, the season five finale, which would, in previous seasons, have maintained more of a rousing and poignant climax, is ultimately conveyed as a rather rushed affair. With this in mind, a theatrical release would probably not improve upon this in terms of pacing, at least not substantially.

Problem 3: The Ending

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; the final special was far from terrible, but as a contender for the series finale, it disappointed. The truth is, since their renewal on Comedy Central in their more familiar episode format, the Planet Express crew delivered far more good episodes than stinkers. Futurama was back, and looked as if it were here to stay. However, low ratings persisted and the show was once again concluded in its prime – this time with a satisfying conclusion, which acts as an appropriate lead-in to the final problem I want to address: the show ended perfectly. Another addition to the long-running franchise would simply be too much. Sure, I, along with many others, initially had my doubts about their Comedy Central run, but they proved they still had a lot of juice left in them. But now, like The Simpsons, it feels too late in its run to boost the franchise.

Problem 4: The Status Quo

There are also issues involved if something truly ground-breaking were achieved. The final episode of season seven, and what is currently regarded as the finale, ‘Meanwhile’, acts as a fine conclusion to a long-running franchise, in that it focuses on the relationship between Fry and Leela, which finally appears to reach its peak. Looking back, it’s clear to see just why the series ended the way it did. The writers had the chance to exceed expectations and achieve something revolutionary. Instead, they recede and hold back from delivering a wholesome conclusion. It’s understandable why this was done. While there may be continuity involved, Futurama is essentially a sitcom, and as a sitcom it needs to remain a constant, else it risks pretentiously devolving into some kind of farcical opus, disregarding its roots and becoming a sci-fi drama in its own right. A movie, therefore, would achieve very little at all, for fear of transcending its genre. All we have to do is look at The Simpsons Movie for proof of this. Certain aspects of the show were altered: Lisa found herself a boyfriend, Homer found himself a pig. But in terms of the series, nothing really changed. It might disappoint a few people out there, but ultimately that’s a good thing.

Conclusion:

So is a Futurama film feasible? Well, given the opportunity, yes, if only for the visuals. But the sad fact of the matter is that the story would likely serve little purpose in terms of the show’s narrative, and it otherwise risks disavowing its former developmental continuity in favour of the casual cinemagoer. There was a time when it felt like a good idea, but now that Futurama is wrapped up in a neat little package, it would probably be a better idea to retire the Planet Express crew once and for all, in a sense freezing them in time. What’s more, the show is irrefutably past its prime. While the Comedy Central run was very good, with a great deal of episodes maintaining a similar quality to those of the original series, it could never better its former glory. And while a theatrical release would certainly still be welcome, like The Simpsons, it probably wouldn’t amount to enough to satisfy the average Futurama fan. Indeed, put simply, a movie based on the sitcom set 1000 years in the future might be several years too late.

Image obtained from:

Futurama: Into the Wild Green Yonder (2009) Directed by: Peter Avanzino. Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment.