Forgotten Features: Meet the Robinsons (2007)

Caution: Spoilers!

 

As something of a hidden gem in the midst of a batch of mediocre and frankly disappointing releases, it’s unsurprising that Disney’s 47^th animated feature Meet the Robinsons (2007) has been somewhat overlooked. As with Chicken Little (2005), the film was represented in trailers as a slapstick, madcap comedy flick, similar to one of Dreamworks’ offerings, and it must be said that the character designs did not initially appeal. However, unlike the cheap comedy and sprawling, meandering narrative characteristic of the aforementioned feature, Meet the Robinsons is not as disposable and trashy as it was initially conveyed to be.

Based on William Joyce’s A Day with Wilbur Robinson, the film follows Lewis, an orphan and aspiring inventor, who is transported to the future in a time machine piloted by the enigmatic, fast-talking Wilbur Robinson. Before long, he becomes acquainted with the entire Robinson clan, resulting in a humorous adventure filled with witty one-liners and plot twists galore! Despite some minor issues with the narrative, particularly towards the film’s conclusion, overall it’s funny, smart, and carries with it a heartfelt, positive, moral tone.

The Robinson family themselves, despite their purposeful unconventionality and outlandish behaviour, are strangely endearing, not to mention believable, bizarre as it may sound. There are instances, however, when this unconventionality is a little forced. The meatball fight scene at the dinner table springs to mind. But overall, these scenes are few, and hardly detrimental to a plot that is unexpectedly heart-warming, well-established and intelligent.

My only major criticism would be that the pacing becomes a little fraught towards the end of the film, due to the convoluted and nonsensical consequences of time travel. The fact that Lewis’ proclamation that he will never invent bowler hat ‘Doris’ makes Doris combust instantaneously is, frankly, a rather rushed and unsatisfying resolution, while his showing Bowler Hat Guy the alternate, dystopian future makes no sense as that particular time stream would not exist due to his already having vanquished Doris. Admittedly, I’m being nitpicky here; it is likely that this was acknowledged during the creative process, taking into account the fact that the film is rather lengthy as it is without addressing this issue. Instead, there seems to be a more prominent focus on character development, humour and an emotional back-story, rather than on developing an accurate, complex time travel narrative, which ultimately pays off.

The comic timing is spot on – it’s fast-paced, witty, and refrains from being too condescending to young audiences. Some of the humour is, admittedly, quite juvenile, but at other times it’s actually surprisingly sophisticated. Music is also one of the film’s most memorable aspects, with a characteristically quirky score composed by the easily-recognisable Danny Elfman, and songs by the likes of Rufus Wainwright and Rob Thomas.

On a concluding note, it was a nice touch that the film’s main moral – ‘Keep Moving Forward’ – derives from a quote by Walt Disney, as referenced at the film’s conclusion, although there are times when the enforcement of this moral feels a little laboured. In all, however, its repeated usage only serves to make the film’s accompanying message seem all the more accomplished. While not faultless, the film serves as an example that a decent, heartfelt story can be told through computer animation, and is, in itself, indicative of a bright future in terms of animation. Without a doubt, much like the moral it promotes, for Disney, Meet the Robinsons represents a sure-fire step in the right direction.

Forgotten Features: Treasure Planet (2002)

The new millennium saw Disney animation at its nadir. The Renaissance was over, and Disney’s output had (arguably) declined in quality considerably. In retrospect, however, the films that followed are perhaps not quite as bad as they have been made out to be – rather they are, for the most part, rather interesting – if less memorable – as experiments, some of which work rather well. Of particular note is a trilogy of science-fiction inspired movies, the last of which was Treasure Planet (2002), a retelling of Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic novel Treasure Island. This particular feature has often been regarded as something of a dud, when it is in fact a supremely imaginative film, if a supremely flawed one.

While it is evident that a lot of consideration went into the visual appeal of the film, conceptually it nonetheless seems underdeveloped, to the point at which the finished product conveys itself as being all too surreal and ridiculous to be in any way emotionally engaging. The awe-inspiring futuristic/space setting is unusually countered by an old-fashioned, 18th century ambience and design, as though they were attempting to not only create a new vision of a classic story but also capture the dated aesthetic and atmosphere of the novel simultaneously, which results in a frankly bizarre amalgamation of ‘past’ and ‘future’ elements. It really is just Treasure Island in space. Evidently, that seems to be the point, but it doesn’t quite work. Rather than feeling like an inspired, modern update, it instead feels somewhat unformed and laboured.

Credit must be given, however, for the animation quality and the creative effort invested in the film’s visuals. The use of computer animation is quite substantial, and very impressive, particularly the character animation of BEN, and the space setting is beautiful, at times reminiscent of Fantasia 2000’s (1999) ‘Pines of Rome’ sequence. Character animation is excellent, yet the human characters seem to lack expression due to their having been based upon CG-rendered designs. The humanoid character designs are undeniably creative and complex, yet their surreal nature coupled with the film’s grandiose setting together make it seem rather ostentatious and superficial. Put simply, they make it seem ironically too ‘alien’ to be engaging.

The main issue is that it is too crowded a movie to impose much of an impact. While it is obvious that a great deal of effort was invested in the look and feel of the film, these visuals – which comprise the feature’s most prominent selling point – detract from the story itself, which is somewhat disappointing considering all the elements of the movie that work well. The voice acting, for example, is flawless, with Joseph Gordon-Levitt, David Hyde Pierce and Emma Thompson occupying lead roles, while James Newton Howard’s outstanding score is nothing less than epic. John Rzeznik also provides two memorable numbers which perfectly capture the unruly-yet-misunderstood character of Jim Hawkins. Melded together, these elements should work well, but it’s just too much. While hardly ‘bad’, the film’s visuals and, indeed, its overall concept remain too complex, surreal and muddled to sustain an otherwise flawless narrative. Indeed, the pacing feels natural, and the characters do at least have some chemistry. But its sci-fi twist perhaps ironically hinders the film more so than it works in its favour, despite the twist itself serving as its most original aspect and overarching premise.

As previously stated, however, this doesn’t make the film ‘bad’. Many of the sci-fi elements are very effective, such as Jim’s solar surfer and Silver’s mechanised cyborgian limbs. Ultimately, however, it’s just too overwhelming and obscure, and therefore difficult to engage with. It is by no means a slow film, and holds your attention throughout, though this is perhaps more so for its unusual visuals than for its story and characters, which are consequently conveyed as rather flat. Overall, despite its many flaws, Treasure Planet is decent (not to mention underrated) but sadly, due to its rather laboured unconventionality, this much-overlooked sci-fi flick proves notwithstanding to be somewhat less-than-stellar.

Forgotten Features: The Black Cauldron (1985)

The production of Disney’s 1981 release The Fox and the Hound marked the ‘passing of the baton’, as the original artists were replaced by an influx of a new generation of animators. Since Walt’s death in 1966, the studio’s output had become tired and stale, the aforementioned flick proving to be no exception. Consequently, Disney saw fit to try a different, darker approach, in an attempt to appeal to an older audience and showcase their true potential. The result was The Black Cauldron (1985), a surprisingly dreary departure from Disney’s typical offerings, and altogether something of a black sheep in the Disney canon.

Based on the series of novels The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander, The Black Cauldron follows assistant pig-keeper Taran who, with the help of a trio of loyal misfits, must locate the Black Cauldron before the tyrannical Horned King, who intends to utilise it to resurrect an army from the dead. As the premise suggests, it is, undoubtedly, much darker than most features of the Disney canon, but that does not necessarily mean it is bad, as such. Far from it, in fact; there are certain elements that work well. For starters, the animation quality, for the most part, is sublime, particularly the sequence in which Hen Wen, the pig, is hunted down by the Horned King’s winged dragons. The film itself also manages to maintain a gloomy and, at times, sinister tone. Whether this appealed to contemporary audiences or not is inconsequential – this was clearly their intent.

Despite my having said that, however, the film is profoundly flawed. Firstly, there are numerous occurrences that make little sense and require far more explanation. Princess Eilonwy’s magic bauble, for example, is given no reason for its existence other than that it is ‘magic’, and vanishes shortly after its first appearance. The Horned King’s demise at the film’s climax is equally bewildering, as the powers of the cauldron are never fully explained. Perhaps these unclear aspects of the plot derive from it having been an adaptation of a book series and therefore too complex a narrative to condense lucidly into a feature film format. Regardless, the film feels somewhat rather underdeveloped. Another issue I had, personally, was with the voice acting, particularly Taran and Eilonwy. Taran’s voice is frankly insipid, while Eilonwy’s simply does not suit her. In addition, there are one or two scenes that do not seem to serve a purpose and, as a result, have a strange, slow and altogether rather jarring effect on the narrative. For example, following their escape from captivity, one peculiar scene depicts Taran and Eilonwy engaging in an altercation, almost as though they were intent on establishing a romance or at the very least a firm alliance between the characters, yet this is bizarrely never realised, not only rendering this entire scene devoid of purpose, but also reinforcing the film’s underwhelming conclusion.

But it’s not all bad. So, the film’s not perfect – that doesn’t mean it’s truly awful. While the film’s flaws diminish its quality and enjoyableness quite considerably, it nonetheless exhibits ‘glints of greatness’, by which I mean it clearly had potential, and could have been far better had more consideration gone into its plot. Visually, the film is very rich and its settings, though desolate and repetitive, are nonetheless detailed and enchanting. The Black Cauldron may not be one of Disney’s finest, but it is one of their most daring and unconventional, and is at least worth seeing for its atypical artwork and unsettling premise. In that respect, it’s commendable; otherwise it’s no surprise that the future of the Disney flick in the mid-80s was looking, well, black.

“This Means War!”: World War II and the Influence of Animation

Following on from the previous post concerning the disappearance of the animated short, it seems logical to now focus on an era in which the animated short served a particular purpose: World War II. Yes, the cartoon was responsible for creating and reinforcing the spirit of patriotism, with the likes of Disney, Warner Bros and MGM creating shorts in which propaganda and commentaries on contemporary issues were embedded. Disney also produced two ‘Good Neighbour’ features, Saludos Amigos (1943) and The Three Caballeros (1945), both of which contain sequences portraying and discovering Latin America, which served to establish and/or reinforce foreign relations.

 

Warner Bros Animation, on the other hand, was far more intense in its social and political commentary, not to mention more daring in its execution. A possible influence of their heavy inclusion of war references and overt pro-American patriotism is that, in the late 1930s, a representative of the WB German distribution office was attacked and killed by a group of Nazis. Evidently, Warner Bros had an agenda to pursue, declaring war in their own manner through the creation and distribution of film, including 1939’s Confessions of a Nazi Spy. Consequently, a great number of war-themed cartoons followed swiftly afterwards. Animation director Bob Clampett, the main director of the era, is quoted as describing Bugs Bunny, who by 1941 was only just barely established, as a “symbol of America’s resistance to Hitler and the fascist powers” (Beck, 2004: 84).

 

Indeed, this ‘symbol of resistance’ is evident in many cartoons of the war era, particularly the likes of Herr Meets Hare, a Friz Freleng cartoon from 1944 in which Bugs disguises himself as Hitler and Stalin to foil Hermann Göring. The Warner Bros shorts were fearless in this respect, often lampooning Hitler and deriving from the topicality of the period. Some of their more daring, outlandish and memorable shorts of this era include Daffy – the Commando (1943), in which Daffy Duck hits Hitler over the head with a mallet, and Russian Rhapsody (1944), in which Hitler’s plane is hijacked by the ‘Gremlins from the Kremlin’, most likely conceptually inspired by 1943’s Falling Hare, replacing Bugs Bunny with Hitler as the victim of the gremlins’ antics.

 

In addition to this array of patriotic and at times subversive attempts to raise spirits, the Warner Bros studio also proved that they had not lost their sense of humour. Certain other cartoons of the era provided escapism from the war, while others derived humour from topics such as rationing, military training camps, and drafting for military service, one of the most memorable being Draftee Daffy (1944), an energetic and bold Bob Clampett cartoon which sees Daffy Duck do all he can to evade the ‘man from the draft board’. Clampett’s edgy, aggressive style coincided with the brash and unrelentingly frenetic atmosphere of the era; cartoons were maturing, and served a much more substantial purpose than as mere, light-hearted entertainment.

 

Some cartoons were more subtle in the messages they conveyed; The Fighting 69 1/2th (1940), for example, showcases a battle between two ant colonies over a picnic, essentially representing a social commentary on the war, world conflict and its oftentimes subtle provocations. Private Snafu, a series of cartoons demonstrating what not to do in the US military, was intended for viewing only by US soldiers. Despite the individually themed episodes conveying their respective messages in a humorous way, the messages nonetheless had serious undertones. Chuck Jones, Bob Clampett, Friz Freleng and Dr Seuss himself, Theodor Geisel, worked on this series.

 

Naturally, some depictions found in these cartoons are, at times, difficult to absorb without acknowledging the context of these portrayals, and the messages they were conveying. Cartoons of this era are far from child-oriented, and as a result have since been somewhat neglected by the general public. They are, however, significant historically, not only as symbols of the spirit of patriotism, but as examples of the true power and potential of animation. Proving to maintain a tone as bold, hostile and aggressive as the era in which they were conceived and distributed, they proved, in their own way, that the American spirit was not going down without a fight.

“That’s All Folks!”: Warner Bros Animation and the Disappearance of the Animated Short

There’s no doubt about it. Animation, generally, is more popular than ever. Indeed, the most recent animated movies have reeled in an unprecedented amount of cinemagoers, with Disney’s most recent feature even managing to knock 2010’s Toy Story 3 off its most deserved but short-lived pedestal as the highest grossing of all time; it was so well-received, in fact, that I don’t even need to mention the title (… It’s Frozen, in case you’d been living under a rock). Yes, the animated feature is as popular as it’s ever been, that much is pretty clear. But something’s missing. Something doesn’t quite sit right with me about the state of animation today. Rest assured, that ‘something’ does not revolve around the animated feature at all. But rather, my discomfort harkens back to the good old days – the so-called Golden Age of animation, when the carefree cartoon reigned supreme. Whatever happened to the animated short?

Now, obviously, it’s necessary to specify precisely what I mean by this. Sure, studios such as Pixar have always distributed shorts, though they have increasingly been utilised as accompaniments or preliminaries to their features, with Disney also jumping on the bandwagon in recent years. But what about classic animation? What happened to Warner Bros and their Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies shorts? Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig – they’re names we all know, characters we all love, but where are they? Together, the cartoons comprise the longest-running series in the history of animation. They were responsible for raising people’s spirits in the Second World War, providing innovative and inspired comedy, appealing to all generations for years, decades even, and yet they’re helplessly plunging down the rabbit hole.

Maybe I’m just being nostalgic. Perhaps the 21^st century has no place for the animated short. It’s a sorry sight to see the characters I grew up with suffer at the hands of corporate giants. Evidently, it’s difficult to compete with the likes of Disney or Dreamworks, and it’s plain to see I’m not the only one feeling for them. Warner Bros have attempted numerous times to revive a certain carrot-chomping wascally wabbit and his ‘dethpicable’ feathered counterpart, their most notable attempt being the 2011 spin-off sitcom The Looney Tunes Show which, while flawed, seemed to give the 70-plus-year-old characters more life than they’d had since the early 1960s. But it clearly had problems. Though a decent programme overall, the format didn’t suit them – it was just too ordinary and not very, well, Looney.

Yes, these characters are heavily dependent on the short, which has, admittedly, seen several attempted low-key revivals. Some have even been computer-animated to keep up with the trends. That’s the problem. Attempts to ‘update’ them seem to take precedence over quality writing, and they therefore nonetheless feel dated in comparison to their competition. Any more recent offerings seem to represent a tribute to the classic short, in the form of a reminiscent ‘those were the days’-style call-back, rather than a revival as such. Regardless, it’s nonetheless nice to see these characters at all, even if their more recent outings have proven somewhat rather disappointing and sporadic.

So, the future of the animated short, as I remember it, doesn’t look too promising. They were tremendous works of art, filled with witty quotable dialogue and memorable catchphrases. And yet, while they are sorely missed, it’s equally painful to see such characters that have enjoyed such a long and lauded time in the spotlight crawl wearily in the shadows of the box office blockbusters of other studios. One thing is certain though, regardless of what becomes of them: They may be fading from our television screens, but not from our memories. And although I may sound negative, I do genuinely believe the animated short still has potential. It’s a little while yet before the iris completely closes on our cartoon comrades. They just need to find an appropriate and less ‘forced’ way of introducing it to this generation; a way for the short and the feature to sit side-by-side, unperturbed by the other’s imposing, overarching success. It’s been done before. So maybe, just maybe, I’d like to think, that’s not all, folks.

Animation Duplication: Inspired or Plagiarised?

Nothing is completely original. We all know that. One thing is always inspired by something that preceded it, in some form or another. But there is nonetheless a substantial distinction between merely having been inspired by something, and creating what is essentially a copy. While I’m not necessarily accusing certain studios of stealing ideas, it’s clear that some works are less ‘original’ than others. Throughout the latter half of the 90s, and the early 2000s especially, there were some rather conspicuous examples of animated features released around the same time that seemed to derive from the same basic concepts. The acknowledgement of this is nothing new; as a matter of fact, it’s now widely recognised, although some examples have been alluded to more so than others since their release.

 

First, let’s address the obvious. In 1998, Disney released Pixar’s A Bug’s Life, which focuses on one brainy inventor ant’s quest to save the colony from a horde of greedy grasshoppers. In addition, as a B-plot, he manages to win the affections of Princess Atta. That same year, Dreamworks and PDI released Antz, which, apart from the obvious similarities, contains a neurotic, geeky protagonist who too falls in love with a princess. There are numerous visual likenesses too, such as the design of the females’ antennae. Yet the film maintains a certain dark tone that distinguishes it quite substantially from the former, as is the case with numerous Dreamworks animated features.

 

But that’s not where it started, as least in my opinion. Disney/Pixar’s Toy Story (1995), a film about toys coming to life, was followed two years later by Dreamworks and Amblin’s Small Soldiers (1997). In this case, Dreamworks is only credited with its distribution, as suspicious as it may seem that they should be involved in a partly animated film with the same basic premise. While the films may not look alike at all, Small Soldiers does indeed derive from the same concept, albeit from a more adult and somewhat more audacious perspective. In fact, it is the film’s more ‘mature’, dark tone that distinguishes it from Toy Story, so much so that its derivativeness is barely noticeable.

 

In 2000, Dreamworks Animation released the vastly underrated The Road to El Dorado. Inspired by the Road to films starring Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, the feature focuses on two wanted thieves locating an ancient, lost city based in Spain. The same year, Disney released The Emperor’s New Groove, which, while not set in Spain, bears some similarity to El Dorado in the structural designs of the film’s buildings, settings and artefacts. Even more conspicuously, the following year, Disney released Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001), an adventure-based flick which also revolves around the discovery of an ancient, lost city. Furthermore, the way in which the golems protecting the city illuminate at the film’s conclusion bears considerable resemblance to the incarnation of the Stone Jaguar in the aforementioned Dreamworks picture.

 

The similarities don’t stop there, of course. It could even be argued that Shrek (2001), a film about an ogre who saves a princess, bears some resemblance to the Disney/Pixar effort of the same year, Monsters, Inc., that is if you consider ogres and monsters to be of the same ilk. In addition, it’s also somewhat ironic that Dreamworks and PDI’s greatest critical success happens to be a parody of the typical Disney flick. More similarities include Finding Nemo and Shark Tale (2003), both undersea adventures with fish occupying the main roles, and Treasure Planet (2002) and Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (2003), both seafaring adventures (despite the one being set in space), the latter even containing a flying ship near its conclusion, as if the similarities weren’t striking enough.

 

Another conspicuous similarity concerns Dreamworks and PDI’s Madagascar (2005) and C.O.R.E. Feature Animation’s The Wild (2006), which was distributed by Disney. Both films focus on the adventures of a group of animals who break out of a New York Zoo. In addition, they both feature a lion and a giraffe as protagonists, but ultimately, that’s where the similarities end. Neither film is perfect, and both have severe pacing issues, though the latter is perhaps a little harder to swallow, being as it lacks the slapstick, fast-paced humour of the former, and seems far too dependent on its plot, which proves altogether too dark and tortuous, particularly in its concluding scenes. In 2007, Disney/Pixar released Ratatouille, a film about a rat with a yearning to cook, while that same year Dreamworks and Aardman released Flushed Away, which also focuses on the adventures of a rat. Again, however, the similarities seem to end there, suggesting that there may be likenesses conceptually, but little else to acknowledge. Moreover, since the release of these films, the similarities in the companies’ output seem to have diminished quite substantially.

 

Of course, deriving inspiration from other works is nothing new. A sequence in Monsters Inc. (2001), in which Sulley believes Boo to have been crushed into a garbage cube, is obviously inspired by a similar scene in Warner Bros short Feed the Kitty (1952), in which bulldog Marc Antony believes his newly adopted kitten Pussy Foot has been whisked and cut into biscuit shapes. The squash-and-stretch animation style of Madagascar (2005) is also inspired by the Looney Tunes anthology, as are the slapstick antics of Scrat in Blue Sky’s Ice Age franchise, while The Road to El Dorado (2000) utilises the same music team behind The Lion King (1994), including Elton John and Tim Rice, in a less-than-subtle attempt to garner a similar following. Even Disney have been accused of plagiarism in the past; The Lion King (1994) was criticised for having copied artwork and story elements from the first Japanese colour TV cartoon Kimba the White Lion (1965), although their likenesses have since been dismissed as purely coincidental.

 

Ultimately, however, whether or not these films are wholly ‘original’ or not, it makes little difference. Most often, while they may be similar conceptually, their respective storylines and styles enable them to appear entirely distinct and disparate from their inspiration. It may, of course, be the case that the aforementioned films’ similarities are in fact coincidental (although, let’s face it, it seems unlikely!).

Felix’s Fact File: Technological Innovations

Max Fleischer and the Rotoscope

 

Born in July 1883, Max Fleischer played a key role in the technological aspect of animation. In addition to having created Betty Boop and Popeye the Sailor, both of which posed substantial competition for Disney in the 1930s, Fleischer is also credited, along with his brothers Dave and Joe, with having invented the rotoscope, a device enabling animators to trace live action footage.

 

Fleischer and his family emigrated from Austria to New York in 1887. Initially he trained to be a mechanic before becoming a cartoonist for the Brooklyn Daily Eagle. He went on to become an editor and illustrator for Popular Science magazine before turning to animation in 1915. Patented in 1917, the rotoscope allowed Fleischer to trace his brother Dave as a clown for a collection of innovative cartoons known as the Out of the Inkwell series, which saw their first popular cartoon character Koko the Clown.

 

From 1919 to 1921, they worked for Bray Studios. Thereafter, Max and Dave founded Fleischer Studios, which saw substantial success in the 1920s and 1930s, even rivalling Disney. Fleischer Studios is also sometimes credited as having released the first sound cartoon.

 

In 1934, however, the Hollywood Production Code requested that Betty Boop be censored, though her series continued nonetheless, until 1939. Their feature Gulliver’s Travels (1939) was a surprise hit, and they subsequently went on to create a successful series based on Superman comics from 1941 onwards. Four short films produced under the studio were even nominated for Academy Awards.

 

However, the feature Mr Bug Goes to Town (1941) was a major box office disappointment. Paramount Studios completely took over the company, and edited Fleischer’s cartoons for television. Consequently, Fleischer himself was forced out of his own studio, and continued to work for lesser-known animation companies. He died in 1972, at which time the legacy he left behind was only just starting to be recognised.

 

For further info, check out these sources:

Infoplease: http://www.infoplease.com/biography/var/maxfleischer.html

Find a Grave: http://www.findagrave.com