Coraline (2009)
Screenplay by Henry Selick, based on the novel by Neil Gaiman
Directed by Henry Selick
Produced by Pandemonium/ Laika Entertainment
Running time: 100 minutes

So, What’s This About?
Coraline Jones (voiced by Dakota Fanning) relocates from Pontiac, Michigan to the overcast Ashland, Oregon. While her parents (Teri Hatcher, John Hodgman) write a gardening catalog, Coraline sets out to explore the Pink Palace Apartments, a 150-year old mansion that’s been rented out to three tenants. These include retired vaudevillians Miss Spink (Jennifer Saunders) and Miss Forcible (Dawn French) and a Russian acrobat named Mr. Bobinsky (Ian McShane). Coraline also meets the landlord’s grandson, Wyborne “Wybie” Lovat (Robert Bailey Jr.) whose great aunt disappeared in the house years ago. Wybie gives Coraline a doll that looks eerily like her.

Wakened at night by Mr. Bobinsky’s performing mice, Coraline follows them through a door to an alternate reality, where her “Other Mother” (Teri Hatcher again) offers Coraline everything she could possibly want: delicious food, nice clothes, a lavish room, wondrous gardens. She discovers a mangy black cat (Keith David) from home has the power of speech in this reality. Coraline’s Other Mother invites her to stay in this perfect world forever, if she’ll permit buttons to be sewn into her eyes. Trapped in a mirror when she refuses, Coraline meets the souls of other lost children and learns that her Other Mother is actually a creature who abducts and once she grows bored with them, devours children.

Who Made It?
Neil Gaiman — celebrated author of the DC Comics epic The Sandman and the novel Stardust – had his daughter to thank for planting the seeds of Coraline, written over a decade and published to great acclaim as a novella in 2002. Gaiman was a fan of Henry Selick, the stop-motion maestro behind The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), and sent Selick a manuscript as early as 2000. Optioning the film rights for Selick was Bill Mechanic, former chairman of Fox and founder of the production company Pandemonium. Contractually prohibited from producing animated films by Disney — the studio where Mechanic had a deal — Coraline was initially developed as a live action feature, to no avail.

In May 2004, Selick accepted a job as supervising director with Vinton Studios, a Portland based animation company which found Coraline a little too dark for its tastes. But months later, Nike co-founder Phil Knight would move from an investor in Vinton Studios to buying the company outright and rebranding it as Laika Entertainment. Looking to make a move into feature films, Knight rolled the dice on Selick and Coraline with a production budget of between $60 and $70 million. The first stop-motion animated film shot in 3D, Coraline spent 18 months being meticulously filmed on 52 sets at Laika’s studio in Portland before opening to wide acclaim in February 2009.

How’d They Do It?
Neil Gaiman traced the origins of Coraline back to the unusual demand of a key demographic: his daughter. “It began in about 1989, 1990, somewhere around there. My daughter, Holly, would come home from kindergarten — she’d be about four or five years old — and she would climb on my lap because I would be sitting in my office writing and she would dictate stories and they were terrifying. They’d be about little girls coming home and finding out the evil witches were now impersonating their mothers. Normally the girls would then get locked in cellars and they would have to escape and try and find their real mother with the witches coming after them.”

Gaiman continued, “I thought I’ll go and find her some stories like this to read to her and nobody seemed to be writing any. I couldn’t find any so I thought, ‘I’ll write her one. I’ll write a story that Holly would like.’ And that was where it began. That really was the genesis. I sat down and I started writing Coraline, which was a name that I think I took from a typo. I’d been writing a letter to a friend called Caroline and I transposed.” Gaiman found additional inspiration from Victorian Era author Lucy Clifford, whose 1882 short story The New Mother concerned two misbehaving children whose mother is replaced by one with glass eyes and a wooden tail.

Gaiman revealed, “I finished the first draft nine years ago in 2000 and I gave it to my agent and said: ‘Please give this to Henry Selick,’ because I had seen The Nightmare Before Christmas and even though it was called Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas I was smart enough to understand that the main man was Henry Selick. I then saw James and the Giant Peach and thought Henry had something really interesting. Especially as a stop-motion director he was just beyond compare. He’s the best there is. I loved the fact that he seemed to understand that sometimes you can show sometimes bravery shines best in dark places.”

Published in 2002, Coraline was awarded that year’s Bram Stoker Award for Best Work for Young Readers, the 2003 Nebula Award for Best Novella and the 2003 Hugo Award for Best Novella. Selick took the property to producer Bill Mechanic, who’d founded Pandemonium after being forced out as chairman of 20th Century Fox, where Mechanic had championed Fight Club, X-Men and Ice Age. Working on an adaptation, Selick resisted developing the material as a live action film, feeling there had been too many talking critter movies and that bringing Gaiman’s dark faerie tale to life through animation might make it less disturbing for younger audiences. But Mechanic’s deal with Disney prohibited him from making animated features.

Selick recalled, “And Bill liked it, but for about two years we had to pretend it was a live action film. I even met with Michelle Pfeiffer, to be possibly in the role of the Mothers, but she didn’t really want to have any buttons on her eyes. And I said, ‘But that’s, kinda the point of the … ‘ Anyway, that was the early days. We kinda hit a dead end. We weren’t going to get to make the film. A scary film for children — it wasn’t going to happen.” Selick moved on to animate sea creatures for the Wes Anderson comedy The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004) and in May 2004, accepted an offer from Vinton Studios, the Portland based animation unit behind the California Raisins ad campaign and the Fox series The PJs.

Founded by stop-animation pioneer Will Vinton — who’d coined the term Claymation and supervised the stop-motion effects in Return To Oz (1985) — the studio was looking to land financing for animated features that might compete with Pixar. “They were growing, transforming. They had an idea for a short film, Moongirl, and they asked if I’d direct it, and flesh it out. And I said that I was only going to move up there from California if I could bring Coraline with me. And they said, ‘Sure, why not?’ So I moved up there, did this short for them, Moongirl, and then said, ‘Well, it’s time to do Coraline.’ And at that time, the guy in charge said, ‘Well, actually, it’s much too dark’, and what changed was, Travis Knight.”

Travis Knight is son of Phil Knight, co-founder of Nike. After a short-lived career as “Chilly Tee”, a Portland rapper in the early 1990s, Travis Knight found his niche as a stop-motion animator at Vinton Studios. After The PJs was canceled and advertising jobs dried up, his father invested in the studio. In September 2003, Phil Knight bought the company, naming Nike executive Dave Wahl CEO and hiring Selick as supervising animation director. Renaming the operation Laika Entertainment, Knight shifted the studio’s primary focus from commercials to feature films. One year later, it was announced that Laika would bankroll Coraline, with Henry Selick adapting a script and directing. Focus Features — the specialty film division of Universal Pictures — acquired worldwide distribution rights.

In adapting Gaiman’s novella, Selick revealed, “I added a character, this neighbor kid Wybie. I set it in the U.S., because I wasn’t as comfortable with British dialogue. And then, over the years that it took to get this thing off the ground, other elements of the story took on a life of their own. I guess the main thing is there’s a delicacy, a subtlety, that Neil can really exploit with his beautiful writing that can’t all get on the screen. You can go and describe the Other Mother and say that her teeth were just a tiny bit longer, her nails a tiny bit more red, but I had to go bigger and broader at times. I also had to dial back the darkness. I didn’t want to go to the darkest tones of the novel quite so soon. I wanted to go lighter and then descend into it.”

One concept that was floated was to open Coraline with computer-generated animation and transition into stop-motion when the story shifted into the parallel universe. Selick recalled, “It was a nice theory, we actually did a test, but putting the two side by side, it just didn’t mean anything, it didn’t have much to say, you know, crucial time we’re on the razor’s edge: which way do we go, CG or stop-motion? Travis Knight, who’s one of the lead animators, weighed in with his important vote and said, well, if he’s going to animate on one feature, he wanted to do stop-motion, so I owe him a huge debt. We went the right way. Travis had a lot to do with that.” Coraline commenced what became an 18-month shoot May 2006 at the Laika studio in Portland.

According to Selick, 90 percent of the film was done practical, without using CG imagery. “Coraline is about seven inches tall as a puppet. There’s an invisible line in her face that we’ve painted out, between her upper face and lower face. The animation of her face is done through replacement animation, just like Jack Skellington, Miss Spider in James and the Giant Peach, the old Pillsbury Doughboy. Martin Meunier — very talented artist/ fabrication person I’ve worked with — came up with a new system using rapid proto machines to build on handmade sculpts of her face and give her an ever greater range of expressiveness. Georgina Hayns — or George as we call her — head of puppet fabrication builds these puppets. The armature underneath metal skeleton was by Merri Cheney, who I’ve worked with for over 20 years.”

Critics generally loved the film. Tony Scott, The New York Times: “Like the best fantasy writers Mr. Gaiman does not draw too firm a boundary between the actual and the magical, allowing the two realms to shadow and influence each other. Mr. Selick, for his part, is so wantonly inventive and so psychologically astute that even Coraline’s dull domestic reality is tinted with enchantment.” Michael Phillips, The Chicago Tribune: “Coraline may not be for all tastes and it’s certainly not for all kids, given its macabre premise. But writer-director Henry Selick’s animated feature advances the stop-motion animation genre through that most heartening of attributes: quality. It pulls audiences into a meticulously detailed universe, familiar in many respects, wacked and menacing in many others.”

Opening February 2009 in the United States, Coraline earned $75.2 million domestically and added $46.3 million in theaters overseas. It also won the enthusiastic support of Neil Gaiman. “It’s what I hoped Henry would make, which is Henry’s film. It’s very much a film of my book and it hits all the beats of the book and it expands a little bit because it’s not a very big book. But he instilled it with Henry’s wonderful imagination and he doesn’t stop anything.” Gaiman added, “It’s so strange because I think adults have a lot more problems with this kind of story than children do. It’s true for the book. It’s always adults that say to me that they finish reading the book at three o’clock in the morning and go around the house turning on all the lights. I never get that from the kids.”

Should I Care?
Selick is an animation connoisseur and seems to understand that the state of the art only moves as far as animators are willing to challenge their audience. Earlier in his career, Selick was a storyboard artist for Disney and worked on Return To Oz, a dark, exquisitely made fable that critics disparaged for being too scary for kids(!) This as if Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Fantasia and Sleeping Beauty — to name a few — were a trip to McDonald’s. With Neil Gaiman’s novella as a road map, Henry Selick has crafted his finest work yet. Less amusing than The Nightmare Before Christmas, the absence of musical numbers allows Selick and his team to descend into the imagination and angst of a child more vividly than any American animated film I can recall with the exception of Disney’s Alice In Wonderland.

Gaiman’s source material — liberally reworked by Selick — is a handsomely crafted narrative; there’s not a single dopey character or glib reference to be found here. The script doesn’t call for any cheap scares, but like Return To Oz, is a perilous and potent trip to the dark side. I don’t have any funny glasses and can’t comment about the film’s 3D attributes, but there’s no question that the handcrafted, slightly wonky effect of stop-motion animation — whether used in Jason and the Argonauts (1963) or Corpse Bride (2005) — is a shot into the nerve center of the brain. Bruno Coulais composed a delightfully spooky score, while alt rock kings They Might Be Giants — who composed four demos, only one of which Selick ended up being able to use — contribute a cool song.

Where’d You Get All of This?
“Neil Gaiman Exclusive Interview — Coraline” By Matt Goldberg. Collider.com, 26 January 2009

“Coraline director Henry Selick on how not to mess up Neil Gaiman” By Ian Spelling. SciFi Wire, 26 January 2009

“Laika hangs dreams on Coraline” By Amy Reifenrath. Oregon Live, 4 February 2009

“Director Henry Selick on Coraline” By Debra Kaufman. Studio Daily, 6 February 2009

“Nike father-son duo lace up Coraline” By Peter Debruge. Variety, 6 February 2009

“Exclusive: Henry Selick on Coraline” By Michael Leader. Den of Geek, 7 May 2009

“Neil Gaiman Interview, Coraline” By Sheila Roberts. MoviesOnline

Coraline. DVD audio commentary featuring Henry Selick & Bruno Coulais. Universal Home Entertainment (2009)

Across the Universe (2007)
Screenplay by Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais, story by Julie Taymor & Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais
Directed by Julie Taymor
Produced by Gross Entertainment/ Team Todd/ Revolution Studios
Running time: 133 minutes

So, What’s This About?
Expressing themselves through the songs of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr, two lovers are introduced on opposite shores of the Atlantic. Jude (Jim Sturgess) works in a Liverpool shipyard, while in the Midwest, Lucy (Evan Rachel Wood) lives an idyllic suburban life. Jude leaves his girlfriend in 1963 and travels to America, while Lucy says goodbye to her high school beau when he joins the army. Jude makes his way to Princeton University, where he locates his biological father working as a janitor. He then meets an irascible Ivy Leaguer named Max (Joe Anderson) who brings the British sketch artist home for Thanksgiving, introducing Jude to his sister Lucy.

Max drops out of school and heads to New York’s Lower East Side with Jude in tow. The young bohemians find room and board with a blues singer named Sadie (Dana Fuchs) and are soon joined by a guitar player from Detroit named Jo-Jo (Martin Luther McCoy) and an outcast from Ohio, Prudence (T.V. Carpio). Arriving in the Big Apple to deliver a draft notice to her brother, Lucy falls in love with Jude. When Max is shipped to Vietnam, she becomes active in the antiwar movement, which Jude — an illegal alien — remains largely ambivalent about. The gang encounters a West Coast beatnik named Dr. Robert (Bono) who expands their minds, but social forces begin to tear the group apart.

Who Made It?
Producer Matthew Gross and his associate Ben Haber were discussing the music of The Beatles and wondered why nobody had mined the riches of the greatest pop music library of all time for a movie. Working out a deal with Sony/ATV Music Publishing — rights holders of the Beatles catalog owned jointly by Sony and Michael Jackson — Gross planned to option the rights for 18 Beatles tunes to the tune of $5 million. To script an original musical utilizing those songs and a 1960s love story as a backdrop, the producer turned to the British writing duo of Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais, who drafted a short treatment.

After several rejections of what was then titled All You Need Is Love, Gross found a partner in Joe Roth of Revolution Studios. To direct, Roth suggested Julie Taymor, the multi-talented director of stage (The Lion King) and screen (Frida). Eager to explore a cultural landscape she had actually grown up in, Taymor turned to partner and frequent collaborator Elliot Goldenthal to compose the music. She arrived on the title Across the Universe and won the backing for a visionary rock opera utilizing music and lyrics from 33 Beatles tunes. Delivering a cut deemed too long and unwieldy by Sony Pictures, Roth would recut the film himself, leading to Taymor threatening to remove her name from the ambitious project.

How’d They Do It?
Apple Corps — the multimedia company founded by The Beatles in 1968 — controls the band’s recordings, but the more lucrative publishing rights to most of that library was owned jointly by Michael Jackson, who bought the Beatles catalogue from ATV Music in 1985, and Sony Music, which the pop icon merged his publishing interests with ten years later. With a licensing fee of $250,000 per song, Beatles compositions had popped up in movies only sparingly over the years. Producer Matthew Gross learned that licensing 18 Beatles songs would cost $5 million, which he thought was a good investment to build a movie around. “The idea was reverse engineering. Instead of trying to string together a story from the songs, create a story and find the songs that suited the story.”

Formerly president of Kopelson Entertainment, Gross hooked the British screenwriting tandem of Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais — whose credits included The Commitments (1991), as well as the Michael Caine comedy Water (1985), which George Harrison’s HandMade Films had produced — to write a treatment. After five rejections, Gross found a buyer in Joe Roth, former chairman of Fox who founded Revolution Studios in 2000. Roth recalled, “The Beatles catalogue is owned by two parties equally, Sony and Michael Jackson. We distribute our films through Sony and I went to them with the idea, so they were okay and we worked long and hard at a time when Michael Jackson was somewhat vulnerable and we got the rights.”

To direct, Joe Roth wooed Julie Taymor, who he’d met while chairman of Walt Disney Pictures and Taymor was directing and designing costumes for the Broadway production of The Lion King. Taymor grew up in Boston in the 1960s. Her love of theater and travel led to creating a dance company while living in Indonesia in the mid 1970s on a Watson Fellowship. In 1991, Taymor received a MacArthur Fellowship and the following year, directed her first opera, in Japan. Following the massive stage success of The Lion King, Taymor made her feature film debut in 1999 with an adaptation of Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus starring Anthony Hopkins and Jessica Lange. Her sophomore film — Frida (2002) — notched Salma Hayek an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress.

In February 2005, it was announced that Julie Taymor had agreed to direct what was then being called All You Need Is Love for Revolution Studios and a planned release of September 2006. Six months prior, Taymor had approached the head of Sony Classical about the possibility of launching a Broadway musical utilizing tunes by the Fab Four. The idea dissolved, but with The Beatles on her brain and the opportunity to recreate an era she had actually lived through, Taymor worked with Clement & La Frenais to expand their less than novel love story set during the social upheaval of the 1960s. She would suggest the title Across the Universe and add three supporting characters: Sadie, Jo-Jo and Prudence.

Taymor revealed, “The picking of the names was a bit of a debate — the Jude, Lucy, Max, Sadie, Jo-Jo and Prudence — but I felt that, you know, you can like it or dislike it but it allowed us to use some of those songs with the names, obviously, like ‘Dear Prudence’ and ‘Hey Jude’, and later you have ‘Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds’ but it connected the people to the songs, otherwise, who were those people? If you used those names and those songs, who are they singing about? So no, we don’t have a song about Jo-Jo or Sadie, we are familiar with the words ‘sexy Sadie’ and what do we have, ‘Maxwell’s silver hammer comes down, crashing down’ in the later song, so people who know those songs understand where the references come from.”

Jennifer and Suzanne Todd — who rose from assistants of Joel Silver in the early ‘90s to producing the Austin Powers comedies, Boiler Room and Memento — were brought in to get the movie made. Jennifer Todd recalled, “We got the script from Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais and we just loved it. Once the permission came through to use the songs from The Beatles’ back catalog, it was incredibly exciting. We got to take these tracks that have become so much a part of everyone’s lives and reinterpret them — to have them lead a narrative and really breathe new life into them. To be able to work with a director of Julie Taymor’s talent, to really experiment and try to create a totally new experience, I mean, what could be more thrilling?”

To collaborate on Across the Universe, Taymor turned to her partner Elliot Goldenthal, who in addition to writing a film score, was tasked with rearranging the 33 Beatles compositions Taymor had selected. “Though Elliot is a composer and there are no songs to be composed, his arrangements and his understanding of drama and character are so great. I’ve worked with him for 20 years and have total trust and admiration for his work. I knew that he would find a new way to interpret the songs; by placing them with new arrangements, the music would be fresh again — not a better version, but different.” Music producers T-Bone Burnett and Teese Gohl would work with Goldenthal on the music.

Bruno Delbonnel was hired as director of photography. Taymor recalled, “Bruno, in our first interview said, ‘I hate musicals.’ I thought, ‘Now what do I think about that? That’s interesting.’ And I thought, he’s done Amélie and A Very Long Engagement, these incredibly theatrical movies. He has an incredible sense of light and photography. I knew that tough, European sense with him: he would want it to be a serious movie, not fluff; that the darkness would be there when I wanted it to be there, but it would also have that whimsy and theatricality that was very important.” Choreographer Daniel Ezralow came aboard to create routines that broke with the dance musical norm when possible and drew inspiration from more realistic movements.

Aside from Evan Rachel Wood — who was offered the role of Lucy — the cast was filled with relative unknowns. During an open casting call in England, Taymor and Goldenthal were sent a tape featuring Jim Sturgess. Taymor mused, “We did not want musical theater voices, and we didn’t want pop-y voices. Jim just fit in right away. Jim’s been in a rock band and he’s an actor. He just sings with such an incredible ease that you feel that the character is talking just to you. He has a beautiful voice – and there’s no disconnect between when his speaking voice and his singing voice. Jim can go right from talking to singing.”

English actor Joe Anderson had came to an open casting call for the role of Jude, but felt better suited for Max and employing an American accent, won the part. Taymor had created the part of Sadie specifically for Dana Fuchs, a singer/songwriter who’d recorded a demo for the director on a previous project. Martin Luther was a New York based vocalist and guitar player with little acting experience. The same went for T.V. Carpio, whose background included singing, dancing and ice skating, but not much acting. Revolution Studios announced a $45 million budget and Across the Universe commenced filming September 2005 in New York.

Once Across the Universe began the test screening process, its troubles began. In an article for L.A. Weekly in April 2007, gossip columnist Nikki Finke named various “insiders” who claimed that most everyone with an opinion agreed that the movie was too long, everyone except for Julie Taymor. The director unveiled a shorter cut of 135 minutes, but when it received similar complaints, Taymor blanched at any more trims, even after Sony co-chairman Amy Pascal was said to have taken Taymor to dinner and extolled the virtues of a shorter running time. One of Finke’s “sources” was quoted as saying, “That’s the refrain of everyone: There’s a great movie in there, somewhere. But as it stands now, it’s so complicated it’s just a bad movie.”

Joe Roth hired an editor and whittled Taymor’s cut to 105 minutes. Screening his abridged version to a test audience in Phoenix, the scores reportedly shot way up. Roth — who in addition to running studios, directed Revenge of the Nerds II: Nerds in Paradise (1987) and Christmas with the Cranks (2004) — left it up to Taymor to decide whether she would endorse the new audience friendly version. When Taymor floated maybe taking her name off the film, Sony backed down. Recounting the experience on The Charlie Rose Show, Taymor offered, “Look, I went through what many directors go through, which is: You get to the end, you think it’s done and some people think that it should be, slightly different.” She added, “And I did some cuts for pacing and everything stayed — you’re seeing my cut — and there’s support behind it. So, end of story.”

Running 133 minutes, Across the Universe premiered at the Toronto Film Festival in September 2007. Sony timidly released it on 24 U.S. screens in 12 cities, followed by a slow expansion to 400 screens in 24 cities. Critics scattered in every direction. Stephen Holden, The New York Times: “Somewhere around its midpoint, Across the Universe captured my heart, and I realized that falling in love with a movie is like falling in love with another person. Imperfections, however glaring, become endearing quirks once you’ve tumbled.” Marjorie Baumgarten, The Austin Chronicle: “Across the Universe will have ardent defenders, but in the long run, it will do nothing to infuse life into the current mini-revival of movie musicals and is as soft-headed as the wishful refrain ‘All You Need Is Love.’ Maybe that works in real life but not in the movies, sister.”

Despite striking a chord with many who discovered the film — and The Beatles — on their own, Across the Universe failed to take off at the box office, bringing in $24.3 million in the U.S. and only $5 million overseas. Appearing on The Charlie Rose Show in October 2007, Taymor was asked to comment on her film’s wildly diverse reception. “I think anything that’s really different, that really takes chances, that breaks the rules, also plays with sacred cows — like the Beatles music — is going to, it’s going to engender that debate. And I welcome that; better than bland, better than, ‘Wow, that’s nice.’”

Should I Care?
Across the Universe is that weird kid taking a seat at the back of the class. She’ll discover Brazil, The Hudsucker Proxy, Fight Club and other like-minded kids to smoke with behind the school during lunch, inspiring walkouts and love-ins among moviegoers over the years while giving film studios and their shareholders anxiety attacks. Shooting straight from the heart, this love letter to the songs of The Beatles — like the boldest love letters — is ill-advised, occasionally tedious and monumentally dazzling. Its closest point of comparison is Moulin Rouge!, but with much better taste and less cornball reverence for song and dance routine than Baz Luhrmann, Julie Taymor crafts a poetic and sumptuous rock opera destined to become a classic.

Whatever you think about Across the Universe, chances are, you’ll end up thinking about it. Rather than a recyclable consumer entertainment product, almost every frame of the movie is designed with TLC. The framing, lighting and camera movement are beautiful, the musical arrangements eclectic, vocal work by the cast excellent, animation mesmerizing and its staging innovative. The film flies off the rails during its psychedelic, “I Am the Walrus” and “Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Kite” numbers, while its star crossed lovers start resembling chess pieces being moved across history rather than people we really care about. But if Luhrmann was heralded for raising the bar on movie musicals, Taymor elevates it even higher with the singular drive to try something different.

Where’d You Get All of This?
“Movie Mogul Joe Roth Speaks” By Wilson Morales. BlackFilm.com, February 2006

“Film Has Two Versions; Only One Is Julie Taymor’s” By Sharon Waxman. The New York Times, 20 March 2007

“Across an Alternate Universe” By Nikki Finke. L.A. Weekly, 12 April 2007

“Sony exploits its Beatles catalog” By Martin Lewis. Variety, 6 September 2007

“Julie Taymor Soars Across the Universe” By Edward Douglas. ComingSoon.net, 18 September 2007

“Beatles mania strikes again” By Chris Lee. The Los Angeles Times, 12 October 2007

“Jennifer and Suzanne Todd’s Sister Act” By Jessica Hundley. MovieMaker Magazine, 18 November 2007

“The Art of Musicals: Across the Universe” The Writing Studio

Across the Universe. DVD commentary by Julie Taymor and Elliot Goldenthal. Sony Home Entertainment (2008)

By Joe Valdez

What the *&#! Are They About?
In a bachelor’s pad near Regent’s Park in London, a Dalmatian named Pongo (voiced by Rod Taylor) attempts to break the monotony of a spring’s day by introducing his “pet” — solitary song man Roger Radcliffe (voiced by Ben Wright) — to a suitable mate. Selecting an attractive woman holding the leash of a female Dalmatian named Perdita (voiced by Cate Bauer), Pongo drags Roger through the park and forces the humans to collide into each other. Wedding bells soon chime for Roger and Anita (voiced by Lisa Davis) while Perdita gives birth to 15 Dalmatian pups.

The litter attracts the attention of Anita’s chain smoking, fashion disaster schoolmate Cruella de Vil (voiced by Betty Lou Gerson). Roger summons the nerve to turn Cruella’s offer for the litter down, but later, two thieves dognap the pups. When Scotland Yard is unable to link Cruella to the crime, Pongo takes matters into his own paws, issuing a “twilight bark” for help. Word reaches the countryside, where an old sheepdog and tabby cat trace not just 15, but 99 Dalmatian pups to de Vil’s crumbling mansion Hell Hall, where she intends to turn the pups into a fur coat.

When his highly developed nose earns him a job as poison checker, a rat named Remy (voiced by Patton Oswalt) finds his pleas that their kind do little more than steal garbage falling on the deaf ears of his father (voiced by Brian Dennehy). Remy’s tastes lead him into a farmhouse kitchen, where TV introduces him to the philosophy of renowned chef August Gusteau (voiced by Brad Garrett) that “anyone can cook.” Remy’s expedition to the kitchen for saffron with his trash compactor brother Emile (voiced by Peter Sohn) results in the clan being driven from the attic. During the exodus, Remy is sent floating down a storm drain atop Gusteau’s book.

Realizing he’s in Paris, Remy arrives at the kitchen of his late mentor’s famous restaurant, now run by the temperamental Skinner (voiced by Ian Holm). Witnessing the disastrous attempts of bus boy Linguini (voiced by Lou Romano) at making soup, Remy intervenes. The soup is such a hit with customers that Skinner demands Linguini create his wonder again, under the watchful eye of chef Colette (voiced by Janeane Garafalo). Remy pursues his culinary dreams through Linguini, helping the boy win over food critic Anton Ego (voiced by Peter O’Toole), as well as win Colette’s affection. Reunited with his family, Remy is unsure which world he belongs to.

Writing
Playwright Dodie Smith and her taste for black & white led to her future husband presenting her with a Dalmatian in 1934. She named the dog Pongo. One Hundred and One Dalmatians had its genesis in a comment one of Smith’s friends made about Pongo, recalling that as a puppy, his fur would have made a nice coat. Envisioned as a children’s play at one point, a novel was published to great success in 1956. A scene in which the puppies disguise themselves as Labradors by rolling in soot was enough to compel producer Walt Disney to option the film rights in late 1957.

Disney assured Smith that her story would go into production following the lavish Sleeping Beauty. To pen an adaptation, Disney turned to Bill Peet. Before he would author children’s books like Chester the Worldy Pig, Peet began his career with Disney in 1937 as an “in betweener” assisting with final drawings. Peet supplied character sketches for Dumbo and soon became a senior writer-illustrator with the studio, co-authoring and storyboarding Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan and Ben and Me. Disney’s faith in Peet was so strong that for the first time in studio history, one person was entrusted with adapting and storyboarding an animated feature.

One Hundred and One Dalmatians is credited with being the most contemporary animated feature Disney had yet produced. I seem to remember Lady and the Tramp (1955) being quite modern too, but its creative departure from the fantasy musicals that Disney had banked on in the past was quite a novel approach. The writing contains nice doses of wit early on — with human behavior being commented on by a pet — and has mystery and suspense in the last half hour. None of these engines feels particularly sustained, but I did enjoy the film’s sly mockery of television, via the shows and ads (Kanine Krunchies) the Dalmatians are obsessed with.

Animator Jan Pinkava was standing in the kitchen in early 2000 with his wife when he had an idea for a movie: a rat who wants to become a chef. Pinkava had written and directed Geri’s Game — the Academy Award winning Best Animated Short Film of 1997 — for Pixar Animation Studios. Pinkava shared his story outline with Pixar story artist Jim Capobianco and the pair started on a screenplay. When Pinkava made his pitch to Pixar in March 2003, chief creative officer John Lasseter loved the fish-out-of-water concept. Pinkava continued to hone the script and by the summer of 2004, turned to writers Emily Cook & Kathy Greenberg for help.

To co-direct the untitled project, Pixar brought in Bob Peterson — who’d rewritten Finding Nemo — to whip the story into shape and allow Pinkava to focus on character and set design. Peterson assembled a story reel, but when it was presented to Pixar in late 2004, the studio saw a brilliant idea that was struggling to be realized as a feature length film. A second story reel presented in late spring 2005 was deemed rich in atmosphere, but still flat in story. Animator Brad Bird — whose film The Incredibles was playing like gangbusters for Pixar — had spent two weeks doctoring the screenplay when in June 2005, Pixar asked Bird to take over as director.

The outrageousness of the concept and challenge of finding a way to make audiences care about a rat both appealed to Bird. Rewriting the script, he kept most of Pinkava’s characters, killing off Gasteau and making him a spirit guide of sorts. Instead of an entire family of rats, Bird simplified things by giving Remy a father and brother only. He was taken by a minor character named Colette and expanded her part, making her an ally to Remy and Linguini. The result is an enormously sophisticated situation comedy. Not lacking in his yen for eye-popping action sequences, Bird is supremely acute when it comes to the fabric of relationships.

Writing edge: Ratatouille

Casting
Celebrity voices have been increasingly relied on in animated features, whether the star brings anything worthwhile to the character or not. One Hundred and One Dalmatians belongs to an era when animated characters were brought to life with great voices instead of bankable ones. Rod Taylor brings a dash of sophistication to the voice of Pongo, while it’s impossible to imagine the need for Bette Davis or Joan Crawford to voice Cruella de Vil when Betty Lou Gerson is intensely hilarious in the part. Disney veterans J. Pat O’Malley, Martha Wentworth and Tom Conway also lent their vocal talent to the film.

Characters don’t come to life in animated films with the ingenuity and craft of animators; Walt Disney had built the best animation unit in the world. Frank Thomas designed the character of Pongo and was responsible for a beautiful scene where the dog reacts to Roger bringing a stillborn pup back to life. Ollie Johnston was tasked with the character of Perdita. Marc Davis — whose drafting table had been the birthplace of Bambi and Tinkerbell — designed Cruella de Vil, one of the most memorable animated characters of all time. Thomas, Johnston and Davis were all part of the “Nine Old Men”, the core animation team responsible for building Disney.

With Pixar’s preference for developing characters both two dimensionally and three dimensionally, designers Jason Deamer, Dan Lee and Carter Goodrich sketched character drawings, which were molded into clay by sculptors Jerome Ranft and Greg Dykstra. The concern that audiences might find rats gross had been dealt with by designing them to walk on two legs. When Brad Bird came on board, he used Bambi and Lady and the Tramp as touchstones, insisting that animals act like animals and not humans. A year spent observing rats in terrariums at Pixar helped animators capture muscle movements and anatomy much more realistically.

Bird arrived on Patton Oswalt to voice Remy after switching on his car radio and hearing the comedian’s bit on Black Angus Steakhouses; to Bird, Oswalt seemed to be this big personality coming from a smaller body. Janeane Garafalo’s attitude and acting chops perfectly fit for the voice of French chef Colette. The verbal dexterity and wit of both performers goes a long way to making Ratatouille so entertaining. Peter O’Toole — rarely if ever employed as just a voice actor — is tremendous as the insufferable food critic. Ian Holm’s French accent is nearly unrecognizable as Skinner, as is John Ratzenberger, whose voice appears as the head waiter.

Casting edge: Even

Production value
Sleeping Beauty had cost a fortune for Disney and underperformed at the box office in 1959. To avoid shuttering his animation division, Disney was looking for a way to cut costs. Ub Iwerks — animator, technical innovator and Disney’s business partner from the earliest days of the studio — suggested that office copiers from Xerox that were appearing on the market might be used to transfer an image onto an animation cel. The Xerox lens could take a picture of a pencil drawing and transfer it onto a plate, which could be dipped in toner and transferred onto a clear cel. This would eliminate the time consuming and costly need for an ink department.

Animators were thrilled that their work would no longer pass through ink tracers and responded with inspired character work; Cruella de Vil’s entrance is one of the grandest ever for a Disney character. Art director Ken Anderson brought a particular look to One Hundred and One Dalmatians: angular, abstract, modern. Layout stylist Ernie Nordli went over some of Anderson’s backgrounds and softened them up a bit, but the results were a radical departure from the lushness of Lady and the Tramp or Sleeping Beauty. Painter Walt Peregoy used color styling to give a mere impression of shapes like doors or furniture.

Disney stalwarts Wolfgang Reitherman, Hamilton Luske and Clyde Geronimi directed One Hundred and One Dalmatians with each supervising the completion of individual sequences. Xerox color had yet to be invented, but with so many of the characters designed to be black & white anyway, the process suggested by Ub Iwerks turned out sublimely well suited to the material. The stark, black lined style beautifully signals that we’ve arrived in a bold new age of animation, with the opening credits sequence in particular bouncing with a jazzy, energetic feel. I’m not a big fan of abstract art, but got a kick out of the Picasso influences that run throughout the film.

Director of photography Sharon Calahan and production designer Harley Jessup were both retained when Pixar brought on Brad Bird to rewrite and direct Ratatouille. Both were major forces in dictating the look and feel of the film. Calahan suggested that the rat world would feel cool and the human world warm. She studied food photography — both good and bad — and arrived on a slightly warm illumination to not only make the dishes look appetizing, but to make the human world feel inviting to Remy. Subdued colors among the characters and props helped highlight the richness of the food, which ends up coming off like a character.

Ignoring animated films like The Aristocats that had previously used Paris as a locale, art director Harley Jessup referenced live action movies from the 1950s like An American In Paris, searching for an idealized look of the City of Lights. But he also drew heavily on Parisian geography to design the sets. Gusteau’s is adjacent to the Place Dauphine. Linguini’s flat was located in Montmartre. The location of the Eiffel Tower through windowpanes was accurate to wherever the scene was supposed to take place. Rooting the look of Ratatouille in Paris resulted in a muted color palette that stands apart from the toybox colors of previous Pixar films.

One aspect you can always bank on with Brad Bird is how imaginative and exciting the action sequences are going to be. This was evident in the “Family Dog” segment of Amazing Stories, on to The Iron Giant and is true of his two animated features for Pixar. This is a ceaselessly entertaining movie, but in addition to the madcap chases are wonderful moments observing human behavior. I particularly like the French lovers Remy spies while moving through the walls; one moment the femme is shooting at her lover and the next, they’re embraced in a kiss. That’s Brad Bird and the type of social observation you don’t see in other children’s films.

Production value edge: Ratatouille

Music
Most of Disney’s animated films up to this point had stopped to break into song and dance, but One Hundred and One Dalmatians broke with form by integrating its songs into the story. Mel Leven wrote all of these. “Cruella de Vil” ranks right up there with “You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch”. I had it stuck in my head for days and was not worse off for the experience. Leven also wrote the tune “Dalmatian Plantation” that closes the film and the hilarious “Kanine Krunchies” jingle. George Bruns composed the score and instead of a classic orchestral approach, his upbeat, jazzy compositions bring a freewheeling, modern vibe to the picture.

After working together on The Incredibles, Brad Bird commissioned Michael Giacchino to compose the musical score for Ratatouille. The collaboration resulted in Giacchino’s first nomination for an Academy Award. The composer brought in French singer Camille to lend her remarkable vocals to the song “Le Festin”, which can be heard twice during the film to magical effect: the montage when Linguini is ceded ownership of Gasteau’s and again before the end credits. Giacchino’s musical ingenuity and range is evident during Skinner’s chase of Remy through across the Seine and is a delight throughout the picture.

Music edge: One Hundred and One Dalmatians

Cultural impact
Arriving in theaters January 1961, audiences lapped up the contemporary approach of One Hundred and One Dalmatians. It became the #1 grossing movie of the year and endures as one of the most popular animated features in the Disney library. Each re-release — in January 1969, June 1979, December 1985 and July 1991 — outgrossed the previous, totaling $144.8 million in the U.S. and $71 million overseas. It inspired two live action versions starring Glenn Close as Cruella de Vil: 101 Dalmatians (1996) and 102 Dalmatians (2000). More importantly, the Xerox process and the commercial success of the film saved Disney’s animation studio.

Ratatouille was the 8th animated feature from Pixar and the first that the pioneering studio greenlit in Emeryville without the input of Walt Disney Pictures. Some speculated that the marketing challenges of a movie with an unpronounceable title, about a food preparing rat, would mark the end of Pixar’s streak of commercial smashes. Opening June 2007, the picture grossed $206.4 million in the U.S. and $414.9 million overseas; only Finding Nemo and The Incredibles had a better box office run. It was bestowed five Academy Award nominations, the most for any Pixar film up to that time. Brad Bird won an Oscar for Best Animated Feature.

Cultural impact edge: One Hundred and One Dalmatians

Winner: One Hundred and One Dalmatians

One Hundred and One Dalmatians has endured as a great entertainment and pioneering achievement in the arts in a way that Ratatouille — sensational while it’s playing, a bit harder to recall quite as fondly months after the viewing experience — just can’t measure up to yet. Brad Bird is a genius, but I think even his fans would admit that some of the greatest animators in history were engaged to bring One Hundred and One Dalmatians to life.

Your thoughts?

Synopsis
Supercop Jack Slater (Arnold Schwarzenegger) responds to a hostage situation involving the axe wielding Ripper (Tom Noonan). Slater saves the city, but loses his son in the standoff, which is all revealed to be the set-up for Jack Slater III, an action spectacle that 11 year old Danny Madigan (Austin O’Brien) sits through for the sixth time rather than go to school. Danny’s friend is a retiring projectionist (Robert Prosky) who invites the kid back to the theater at midnight to check the print of the latest Jack Slater epic. Danny gets through English class by imaging Slater machine gunning his way through Denmark as Hamlet. He promises his widowed mother (Mercedes Ruehl) to get his head out of the clouds, but instead, sneaks out to the theater, where Nick presents him with a magic ticket Houdini gave to him when he was a kid.

During the projection of Jack Slater IV, the ticket transports Danny into the middle of a car chase in the move. Slater is on the trail of a Sicilian drug lord (Anthony Quinn) and his wily henchman Benedict (Charles Dance). Danny tries to convince Slater that they’re in a movie: all the women look like models, everyone’s phone number begins with 555, and at LAPD headquarters, cops are paired with their polar opposites, including a cartoon cat named Whiskers (voiced by Danny DeVito). Danny is introduced to Slater’s sexy daughter Meredith (Bridgette Wilson) but his encyclopedic knowledge of the movie world attracts the attention of Benedict, who confiscates the ticket and moves through the screen into Danny’s world, where bad guys can actually win. Slater follows Danny through the screen to stop him.

Production history
After graduating from Wesleyan University in 1990, Zak Penn & Adam Leff were trying to break into the film industry as screenwriters. Their first script was about a giant rat run amok in Manhattan. Next they wrote a noirish thriller about blackmail in the Hamptons, but after that first effort failed to interest an agent or a buyer, Penn recalls, “The smart thing we did was having the foresight not to send out the second one.” For their third effort, Penn & Leff rented dozens of action movies and produced a list of plot conventions, like “What holiday is the film taking place on?” “Do the hero’s wife and child get kidnapped?” “Does he have a Vietnam buddy? (Because your war buddy always betrays you.)” Their script – titled Extremely Violent - was about a fatherless 15-year-old who steps through a crack in a movie screen to enter the cartoonish world of his idol, LAPD cop Arno Slater, who the boy assists with his inexhaustible knowledge of movie clichés.

In October 1991, Penn & Leff and several of their friends took to the phones to get the word out on Extremely Violent. The script landed in the read pile of Chris Moore, an ambitious agent at Intertalent who agreed to represent the screenwriters. The first buyer Moore approached was Carolco, the company behind Total Recall and Terminator 2. Carolco passed. Before word of mouth soured, Moore submitted the script to five other buyers. One was producer Steve Roth, who had a development deal at Columbia Pictures. Speaking to the New York Times about the project in May 1993, Roth recalled, “It had a wonderful first act when this disenfranchised kid is sucked into the movie.” Within 24 hours, Roth passed Extremely Violent to Barry Josephson, Columbia’s vice president of production. After six days of negotiating with Moore, Columbia optioned Penn & Leff’s script for $100,000 against $350,000 if it ever got made into a movie, which was now going by the title The Last Action Hero.

The only actor anyone could imagine playing Arno Slater was Arnold Schwarzenegger. After Twins, Total Recall, Kindergarten Cop and Terminator 2, “Arnold” was now the biggest movie star on the planet. The front-runner for his next picture was the comedy Sweet Tooth, in which Schwarzenegger was to play the Tooth Fairy, with Ron Underwood standing by to direct. Other contenders included Crusade (a medieval epic to be directed by Paul Verhoeven), Cop Gives Waitress $2 Million Tip (ultimately starring Nicolas Cage and released as It Could Happen To You), Sgt. Rock for producer Joel Silver and Curious George for Imagine Entertainment. The Last Action Hero found a place at the front of the pack. Schwarzenegger recalled, “Having a kid come into a movie awakened certain fantasies I had as a kid in Austria. What would it be like to sit on John Wayne’s saddle, or have him come with this huge horse right out of the screen? The script had a great concept, but it wasn’t executed professionally.”

Columbia shelled out $1 million for Shane Black – author of Lethal Weapon – to rewrite the script. Black brought in a USC buddy named David Arnott to work with him. Arnott stated, “Usually, someone wants you to rewrite something because it’s bad. This script was a gold mine of an idea. The writers played four variations on a theme. We thought, ‘Wow, there are 400 more possibilities.’” While Black & Arnott got to work in February 1992, Columbia slipped the Penn & Leff draft to director John McTiernan, who didn’t find it very good. Taking a look at the rewrite in July, McTiernan changed his mind. “What drew me is the wacko sense of humor Shane Black & David Arnott brought. Shane had done enough service in the salt mines of action movies to ridicule them in an acid way. The script had so much venom that I loved it. I called Arnold and said: ‘This thing is great. You have to read it.’ Arnold was about to commit to the Tooth Fairy, and he held up.”

McTiernan and Schwarzenegger both expressed reservations about the third act of the Black & Arnott draft. Schwarzenegger recalled, “They had created rhythm and pace and staggering action scenes. What I felt was missing was bonding between this kid and his hero.” The star agreed to commit to Last Action Hero if Columbia could add an emotional layer to the script by putting William Goldman on the payroll. Goldman – one of the most respected script doctors in Hollywood – declined, finding the script too violent for his taste. After a personal plea from Schwarzenegger that he was off the movie unless Goldman intervened, the scribe accepted a fee of $750,000 for four weeks work. Among his contributions was changing the boy’s age from 15 to 11, and making Jack Slater more vulnerable. Or as McTiernan quipped, “Goldman gave Arnold a character to play, and he excised 150 toilet jokes.”

In addition to Black & Arnott revising Goldman’s work. McTiernan turned to Larry Ferguson to provide some additional dialogue, while Carrie Fisher came in to flesh out the character of the boy’s single mother. With a budget of $60 million – which Columbia anticipated would ultimately settle in the $80 million range – Last Action Hero commenced shooting November 1992 in Los Angeles. Schwarzenegger had been lobbied by Joel Silver to produce the film, but Barry Josephson and Columbia chairman Mark Canton took a hands-on role producing Last Action Hero themselves. Canton’s faith in the project was so huge that he wrote NASA a $500,000 check to affix the studio’s logo and Schwarzenegger’s name to an unmanned rocket that was to be fired into space. Canton also settled on June 18, 1992 as a release date. Even after Universal announced it was opening a picture they had called Jurassic Park one week ahead of that date, Columbia boldly stood its ground.

Halfway through a frantic 10-week post-production schedule, Columbia scheduled a test screening of Last Action Hero for May 1. Buoyed by a rough cut he’d seen on the Sony lot, Mark Canton eagerly assembled the studio’s top brass at Pacific’s Lakewood Center Theatre in L.A. McTiernan was on hand and as the lights went down, Schwarzenegger slipped into the back of the theater with his wife Maria Shriver. What the audience experienced was little more than an assembly. Running 2 hours 18 minutes, it had a temporary sound dub, as well as a temp score and unfinished effects shots. McTiernan recalls, “I had great trepidation about showing the movie. It was literally in a state that you don’t even show the studio executives. What we were showing was what the editors show the director ten days after finishing the shoot.”

A source who was there told Premiere Magazine, “The movie laid there like a big fried egg.” Another audience member described Last Action Hero to Entertainment Weekly as ”Willy Wonka with guns.” Schwarzenegger and McTiernan had both suggested to Columbia as early as November 1992 that the release be postponed to give them more time to work on the film, or at the very least, get out of the way of Jurassic Park. Even in the wake of the poor test screening, that idea was nixed. McTiernan recalls, “The studio folks assured us that the movie was more likely to make money this way, that the amount of money that the studio would see would decrease by about $10 million per week of the summer than you cut off. I’m not about to argue with things like that.” Shane Black came in the next day to punch up an action scene in the third act and to clarify some story points, like what Benedict was doing in the real world. Additional shooting was under way just seven weeks before Last Action Hero was due in theaters.

Though Mark Canton had confiscated the test screening cards and refused to release the score, the Hollywood rumor mill quickly filled the vacuum. Word spread that Last Action Hero was a disaster. The rocket launch scheduled for May was postponed, then cancelled. On June 4, gossip columnist Jeffrey Wells wrote an article for the L.A. Times titled “Phantom Screening: You Haven’t Heard the Last of Action Hero.” Wells credited unnamed sources from a screening he alleged took place late May in Pasadena. Columbia denied the screening ever happened and retaliated against the Times by barring all employees from speaking to the newspaper. Entertainment Weekly, Time Magazine and The Wall Street Journal – which ran a story titled “Pundits Predict Losing Battle For Last Action Hero” – all weighed in on the film’s misfortunes before its June 18 release.

Critics actually waited to see Last Action Hero before rendering a negative appraisal. Though both Gene Siskel & Roger Ebert pointed thumbs down on At The Movies, Siskel conceded, ” … this is a most ambitious project that works quite well in fits and starts and then drags on for what seemed to me like an extra thirty minutes, wearing out its welcome.” Vincent Canby wrote in the New York Times: “Last Action Hero is something of a mess, but a frequently enjoyable one. It tries to be too many things to too many different kinds of audiences, the result being that it will probably confuse, and perhaps even alienate, the hard-core action fans.” Last Action Hero was not the box office calamity many had predicted, pinching out $50 million in the U.S. and hitting $87.2 million overseas. The final budget was $87 million, with marketing costs of $30 million.

According to John McTiernan, Schwarzenegger took the reception of Last Action Hero especially hard because the star had been developing his chops as a real actor by learning to sustain long takes. “He could never have done that before. It made him very vulnerable, and he was very proud of it. I only know about it because I had spent a year trying to figure out what every twitch of an eyebrow meant on his face. And to be rejected so soundly when he had allowed himself to be so naked, it sort of, like, broke his heart, but I suppose that’s too flowery a phrase. It broke him up terribly.” Late that summer, Schwarzenegger was candid about the film’s reception. “First, I learned that in my case, if you don’t give the people a very clear comedy or a very clear action movie, somehow the two don’t mix together. It was clear that Twins was a comedy; it was never promoted as action.”

Speaking to Hollywood Interview in March 2008, McTiernan offered his post-mortem on Last Action Hero. “It’s largely unedited and large portions of it still appear exactly as it was when it left the camera. It wasn’t ready yet. I don’t know that I’ll ever get the chance to go back to it. It’s like having a model with an extra 20 pounds on her. There’s a really neat movie in there. In order to get a sense of fun that was clear to the audience, it needed tightening, and it needed another month in editing to do that.” In January 2005, Zak Penn mused to UGO.com, “The irony about Last Action Hero is that two kids wrote a movie that was making fun of Hollywood movies that was about an audience member going into the movie and destroying it because it was so stupid, then was rewritten and directed by the same people that it was parodying. I hated it when I first saw it because it was so painful, but I think it actually plays better now.”

Opinion
It’s high time that Last Action Hero had its status upgraded from “turkey” to at the very least, “work in progress”. While the film is most definitely flawed, it’s so imaginative at turns that I’d go as far to say this is a must-see for movie fans, particularly lovers of ‘80s action cinema. Its exuberant wit is most evident in Slater’s lieutenant (Frank McRae) whose hysterical exclamations include, “I got the Chamber of Commerce doin’ cartwheels in my cocoa factory!” Danny pulls Slater into a video store at one point, where no one seems to know who “Arnold Schwarzenegger” is because Sylvester Stallone played the Terminator. In another funny bit, Danny scribbles the f-word on a piece of paper, and when Slater is unwilling to say it out loud, the boy notifies him the reason he can’t is because they’re in a PG-13 movie.

Even in its unfinished state, John McTiernan seems to have a much better sense for what’s amusing than most action directors trying their hands at comedy (Steven Spielberg comes to mind). But the longer the straight on action stuff plows ahead without making fun of itself, the more listless Last Action Hero becomes. The movie grinds to a halt once it crosses back into the real world, where it’s just too overcast to jibe with the tom foolery that came before (Ian McKellan stepping down off the screen as Death from The Seventh Seal is quite cool, at least). This is worth a look purely out of appreciation for what the potential of the film medium can be. Michael Kamen composed a terrific, self-aware musical score, while Sharon Stone and Robert Patrick reprise their roles from Basic Instinct and Terminator 2 in cameos that come and go almost too fast to fully register.

© Joe Valdez

Sources
“Five Writers + One Star = A Hit?” By Aljean Harmetz. The New York Times, May 26, 1993

“How They Built the Bomb” By Nancy Griffin. Premiere Magazine, September 1993

Buyer Beware!
The versions of Last Action Hero available for rental on both Netflix and Greencine subscription services are delivered in the dreaded “Pan and Scan” format, which distorts the frame of the movie to fit television screens. Movie lovers who want to see Last Action Hero in its 2.35 : 1 theatrical aspect ratio will have better luck at their local video store.

Synopsis
As a sullen 10-year-old girl named Chihiro (Daveigh Chase) mopes in the backseat of her parents’ car, her mother (Lauren Holly) tries to cheer her up. “Quit whining. It’s fun to move to a new place. It’s an adventure.” Winding up through the hills, her father (Michael Chiklis) seems to get them lost. Instead of finding their new home, he comes across what appears to be a deserted theme park. Walking through a long tunnel to investigate, Chihiro’s parents smell food. They make their way through a mock town, discovering a fully stocked buffet. Chihiro wants to leave, but as her mother and father gorge themselves, they transform into pigs.

As lumbering spirits rise from the buildings, Chihiro discovers that a river now blocks the pathway back. She also appears to be dissipating in mass. A boy named Haku (Jason Marsden) appears, giving her a berry that returns Chihiro to solid form. Haku promises that she’ll see her parents later, but warns her that others are looking for her. He uses a spell to make Chihiro invisible as they mingle with the fantastic spirits and creatures crossing a bridge to a bath house. Haku instructs Chihiro to seek refuge in the boiler room and ask the six-armed Kamajii (David Ogden Stiers) for a job.

With the help of the punchy Lin (Susan Egan), Chihiro is taken up to see Yubaba (Suzanne Pleshette), the witch who rules the spectral bath house and hands out work assignments. Yubaba refuses to accept her. “You humans always make a mess of things. Like your parents, who gobbled up the food of the spirits like pigs. They got what they deserved. And you should be punished too.” But Chihiro persists, and Yubaba agrees to give the girl the most difficult job she has, working as Lin’s assistant. Lin advises the human that Haku is Yubaba’s henchman and not to trust him.

Though Yubaba has stolen Chihiro’s handwriting and taken her name from her, Haku warns her that if she forgets her name, she’ll fall under the witch’s control forever, like him. Chihiro and Lin are tasked with cleaning the biggest, filthiest tub in the bath house, which soon becomes the destination of a stink spirit that checks in as a guest. Chihiro discovers that Haku has the power to turn into a white dragon and has been tasked with stealing a magical gold seal from Yubaba’s twin sister Zeniba. By using her wits to render help to all those she encounters, Chihiro begins gaining the power to save her parents and return home.

Production history
Hayao Miyazaki had worked in animation for twenty-two years when in 1985, he joined Isao Takahata – who Miyazaki had befriended at Toei Animation Company – and producer Toshio Suzuki to found their own studio. Taking its name from a World War II Italian airplane, Studio Ghibli produced three critically acclaimed fantasy films Miyazaki co-wrote and directed: Castle In The Sky, My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service. In 1997, Miyazaki’s ecologically themed epic Princess Mononoke shattered box office records in Japan. This led to a deal with Disney to dub into English and distribute Studio Ghibli’s films in the West.

Miyazaki’s hands-on approach – checking all key animation, redrawing characters he felt weren’t performing right – had taken its toll during Princess Mononoke. Miyazaki announced he would never again direct, not in that way. On a group holiday, Miyazaki observed five daughters of a friend flipping through a manga. He was not impressed with the reading material. “I felt this country only offered such things as crushes and romance to 10-year-old girls, though, and looking at my young friends, I felt this was not what they held dear in their hearts, not what they wanted. And so I wondered if I could make a movie in which they could be heroines.”

Miyazaki first considered an adaptation of the children’s book A Mysterious Town Over the Mist by Sachiko Kashiwaba. He later drafted an original story that ended up being about “a scary old woman sitting on the bandai of a bath house.” Toshio Suzuki suggested the director go back to a film that would appeal to young girls. Miyazaki began storyboarding panels for what became The Spiriting Away of Sen and Chihiro, the tale of a 10-year-old girl whose parents make a wrong turn and end up trapped in a bath house of the spirits, a world which the young heroine Chihiro must find her way out of.

With a budget of $15 million USD, Spirited Away went into production February 2000 at Studio Ghibli in Tokyo. While Miyazaki had experimented with computer generated imagery in Princess Mononoke and utilized Softimage in his follow-up, the characters were animated largely by hand. In July 2001, Spirited Away opened in Japan with moderate commercial expectations. It became a box office sensation, the first non-American movie to gross $200 million outside the U.S. A screening at the Berlin International Film Festival was so well received that the animated picture shared the festival’s top honor – the Golden Bear – with Bloody Sunday.

Toshio Suzuki took Spirited Away to a screening at Pixar Animation Studios. Pixar’s chief creative officer John Lasseter – a friend and admirer of Miyazaki’s – was blown away. Lasseter eased Disney’s concerns that American audiences would be put off by the film. “I felt that it would be particularly accessible to Western audiences because it is seen from the point of view of a modern, materialistic young girl who is unfamiliar with her own cultural past. The way the story is told, it works as an introduction to a fascinating, rich culture whether it is the viewer’s own heritage or not.” Lasseter served as executive director of the English language version, supervising the dub directed by Kirk Wise.

Spirited Away opened September 2002 in the U.S., never expanding beyond 151 screens. But the New York Times, the Village Voice, and the Chicago Sun-Times among others ranked it one of the ten best films of the year. At the Academy Awards, Spirited Away surprised many by winning Best Animated Feature, over Lilo & Stitch and Ice Age. Miyazaki did not attend the ceremony, issuing a statement thanking “the friends who made efforts to have Spirited Away open in the United States and the people who viewed it positively.” Alluding to the war in Iraq, he added, “I feel saddened by the fact that the world is now faced with a very unhappy situation that prevents me from rejoicing wholeheartedly.”

Opinion
Musical numbers, furry creatures, pop culture jokes and a running time under two hours are just a few of the conventions of American animation not found anywhere in this extraordinary film. And it’s about time. Spirited Away is a movie with the kind of unique characters and magical – at times unsettling – qualities that fans of Lewis Carroll or L. Frank Baum books will embrace, but what makes the film a classic is that instead of trying to sell commercial tie-ins or toys to kids, the animators are more interested in moving the audience, kids and adults, with a beautifully told and original story.

The divide between the physical and spiritual worlds moves quite a bit in Miyazaki’s films. Spirited Away is perhaps the most vivid illustration of this philosophy to date. Parents might nitpick whether the film is too dark for little kids, while anime fans can debate the merits of the original Japanese version versus the English version. Daveigh Chase and the English voice cast (including Pixar veteran John Ratzenberger) are said to have listened to the Japanese voice performances to help gauge their own here and are commendable. What’s indisputable is the masterful level of character design, art direction and imagination that Miyazaki invests his world with.

Vince Leo at QWipster’s Movie Reviews writes, “Spirited Away is one of those films that you are either into or you aren’t. It’s definitely going to hit home with people who admire a talented genius at work, and those who love unique characters and richness in adventure, especially if you agree with the moral lessons the film has to teach. As for me, the elements of the story reminded me a little too much of Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, another Alice in Wonderland-like film that I found to be much more engaging, even if it isn’t as profound as Miyazaki’s creation. That Spirited Away is a remarkable achievement, I have no doubt. Perhaps it is just me that wasn’t ‘in the spirit of things’ to be carried away myself.”

“Spirited Away is not just the best animated film of 2002, it is the best film of 2002, period. And perhaps one of the most artistically satisfying animated films ever made, in terms of both its visual splendor and thematic depth. It will amaze kids with its cornucopia of surprises – and the fact that it never talks down to them and gives them a role model more realistic than any live-action Disney Channel show. It will give adults plenty to talk about – artistically, politically, and philosophically – for years to come,” writes Mike Pinsky at DVD Verdict.

Dawn Taylor at DVD Journal writes, “During its two-hour length, Spirited Away contains more characters, ideas, laughs, thrills, and story elements than the last four Disney films combined – which is another area where comparison between Miyazaki and the products of the Mouse House falls apart. The third act of Spirited occasionally drags (just a tiny bit), but it still keeps the viewer wondering what will happen around the next corner – right at the same time that most Disney films devolve into predictable chase scenes, sappy song-and-dance numbers, and teary reunions. Never boring and never predictable, Spirited Away is already on its way to classic status, standing as an important achievement in the art of animation and – far more importantly – a damn entertaining flick.”

© Joe Valdez

Synopsis
As Sputnik orbits Earth in the year 1957, something from outer space plummets through the eye of a storm and lands in the waters off the coast of “Rockwell,” Maine. The next day, Hogarth Hughes (Eli Marienthal) visits his mother (Jennifer Aniston) at the diner where she works. A local salt (M. Emmet Walsh) is convinced he saw “an invader from Mars” crash into the sea. When he’s ridiculed, a beatnik named Dean (Harry Connick Jr.) sticks up for him, befriending Hogarth in the process.

With his mother working late, Hogarth stays up watching a sci-fi movie. Hearing something in the woods, he wanders outside and encounters a one hundred foot tall robot tangled in power lines. Hogarth saves the giant. The government sends the hyper vigilant Kent Mansley (Christopher McDonald) to investigate the weird goings-on in Rockwell. Hogarth returns to the woods the next day and befriends the giant, which doesn’t speak, but seems to understand the boy. When it accidentally causes a train derailment, Hogarth hides the giant in a barn.

Mansley discovers Hogarth was at the scene of the accident and rents a room from his mother to find out what the boy knows. Hogarth moves the giant into the junkyard managed by the beatnik Dean, an aspiring iron sculptor. Their ruse works, until the giant’s awesome defense system mistakes Hogarth’s toy gun for a threat and almost vaporizes him. The giant runs away, and when the U.S. Army discovers it, attacks. Mansley is so zealous he orders a nuclear strike on Rockwell. As the town awaits their destruction, the giant realizes it can choose whether to destroy life, or protect it.

Production history
The Iron Man was a 1968 children’s book by British Poet Laureate Ted Hughes. Published in the U.S. as The Iron Giant, the book concerned a giant robot that surfaces from the ocean and befriends a young boy. Hughes originated the story to console his two children following the suicide of their mother, poet Sylvia Plath in 1963. Pete Townsend of The Who was later searching for material to adapt into a rock opera and in 1986, settled on The Iron Man. A concept album was spawned three years later and in 1993, a stage musical in London.

With The Lion King a sensation at the box office and Hollywood studios all racing to set up their own feature animation units, Townsend’s collaborator – theater producer Des McAnuff – sold the property to Warner Bros. The studio was eager to work with Brad Bird, a 39-year-old animator best known for directing a very well received animated episode of Amazing Stories called Family Dog and serving as an executive consultant on The Simpsons and King of the Hill.

Bird looked at the projects the studio had in development and saw a drawing of a young boy and a robot. He read The Iron Man and ultimately pitched his own version to Warner Bros. “Hughes’ book is a great story that tries to show kids about the cycle of life. Even though there is death, life has a continuity. My version is based around a question I asked the execs at Warner Bros. What if a gun had a soul and chose not to be a gun? Basically I wanted to honor the book, but also take it in a new direction.”

In January 1997, Tim McCanlies and Brent Forrester were hired to work from Bird’s story treatment and to adapt a screenplay with the director. Working at Warner Bros. Feature Animation in Glendale – with “one-third of the money of a Disney or DreamWorks film, and half of the production schedule” according to Bird – the filmmakers received a green light for production. Tony Fucile was chosen as head of animation and hired the team to design the movie. While drawn mostly in traditional two-dimensional animation, the Iron Giant proved so difficult to visualize that CGI was employed to give the character mass and solidity.

Working from sketches by Joe Johnston, Bird, production designer Mark Whiting and supervising CGI animator Steve Markowski also incorporated visual cues from ‘50s sci-fi classics like The Day the Earth Stood Still for the look and feel of the Giant. Bird rejected the idea of designing the characters around whichever movie stars they could cast. Instead, he looked for voices that fit his concept of who the characters were. Jennifer Aniston, Harry Connick Jr., Vin Diesel and Christopher Macdonald were selected.

The film scored high with test audiences and began to build enthusiastic word of mouth, but Warner Bros. was reeling from a disastrous experience producing an animated film called The Quest For Camelot. Their feature animation unit was already being scaled back and the decision was made to market The Iron Giant strictly to kids. None of its actors were booked on talk shows. No magazine ads were taken out. Bird wasn’t even permitted to cut his own trailer. Both Danny Elfman and John Williams were considered to score the picture, but the studio opted for Michael Kamen instead.

Arriving in theaters August 1999, The Iron Giant went on to gross $23 million in the U.S. It added another $80 million overseas, but the film was pronounced a box office failure. President of production Lorenzo di Bonaventura would later state, “People always say to me, ‘Why don’t you make smarter family movies?’ The lesson is, every time you do, you get slaughtered.” Bird maintained that disarray at the studio actually enabled him to make the film he wanted, and he remained grateful to Warner Bros. for giving him the opportunity to direct his first feature.

Opinion
By producing an animated film without talking animals, musical numbers or smug pop culture references, Bird’s directorial debut would’ve towered over recent fare from Disney or DreamWorks merely because it does something creative in its medium. The reason The Iron Giant is a classic is its unwavering devotion to story and character, qualities you rarely see most live action movies. The film isn’t an excuse to sell toys or commercial tie-ins to kids. This is a film that engages the emotions of the audience and engages them beautifully.

Bird’s passion for comic book mythology, domestic situation comedy and science fiction – the sequence where the Giant unleashes his alien weaponry against the Army is any film geek’s dream – is ideally suited for this material. The film is loaded with visual wit, like a Duck and Cover newsreel, or the yin and yang icon on the back of Dean’s bathrobe. Beyond it’s visceral excitement and humor, the film’s characters are invested with heart, and the story has something relevant to say about humanity. The Iron Giant has it all and stand as one of the great animated films of the ‘90s.

Angus Wolfe Murray at Eye For Film writes, “The film works on almost every level, particularly its central relationship. The animators, scriptwriter (Tim McCanlies) and Vin Diesel, who creates a mode of speech for the giant, have succeeded in giving the massive Meccano model a heart and soul, without resorting to those special Spielberg moments.”

“The Iron Giant is one of those rare, truly magical animated movies that has a heart as big as Mount Everest, but never becomes too saccharine sweet. There’s a fabulous voice cast, including Jennifer Aniston in (for this reviewer) her first un-annoying role ever as Hogarth’s mom … Add to this a soundtrack that gives that extra zing to proceedings and we’re left with a near-perfect melding of computer graphics and traditional cel animation that presents to us a truly moving story that never drags,” writes Amy Flower at DVD Net.

Jen Walker at AboutFilm.com writes, “The Iron Giant offers a look back into an era fondly remembered. It is steeped in 1950s paranoia and naivete, a story whole and separate from the world in which millenial children currently exist. In a decade full of extreme advertising, extreme sports, and even extreme snacks, modern children may not appreciate a movie such as The Iron Giant. But if we can get them to slow down long enough to give it a chance, they will be treated to something truly special in this day and age: a damn good story.”

© Joe Valdez

Synopsis
As a frail Frida Kahlo (Salma Hayek) is carried from home in her bed, her memory takes her back to 1922, when she attends the National Preparatory School in Mexico City. Her sister Cristina (Mía Maestro) is getting married, but Frida flaunts society’s norms, dressing in a man’s suit for the family photo, and having sex with her boyfriend (Diego Luna) in a closet. She plans to be a portrait artist, but a fatal accident immobilizes her in bed, forcing Frida to turn her artistic focus inward.

She seeks an opinion of her work from famed muralist Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina). He takes her under his wing, introducing her to his radical friends, including photographer Tina Modotti (Ashley Judd). He asks Frida to marry him. She accepts, despite Rivera refusing to pledge fidelity. She later realizes that her neighbor is Rivera’s possessive ex-wife Lupe (Valeria Golino). She looks after Frida, trying to convince her that Rivera will never be anyone’s husband.

Frida accompanies Rivera to New York, where he’s been given a commission by Nelson Rockefeller (Edward Norton) to paint a mural in Rockefeller Plaza. After miscarrying a child, Frida takes Rivera back to Mexico City with her, where he sinks into depression. Their marriage dissolves, but the arrival of exiled Leon Trotsky (Geoffrey Rush) brings them together again.

The role of Frida Kahlo had been contested among several actresses for years. Madonna wanted to play her at one point. Laura San Giacomo won the part in a film to be directed by Luis Valdez, based on Martha Zamora’s biography Frida: Brush of Anguish. Objections over San Giacomo’s ethnicity by a vocal minority led to her eventual replacement by Jennifer Lopez. Produced by Francis Coppola, the Valdez project was to shoot in May 2001 after J. Lo finished Enough.

Production history 
Miramax Films had their own Frida Kahlo project – to star Salma Hayek and be directed by Julie Taymor – and what most considered to be the superior script, adapted by Clancy Sigal and Diane Lake and Gregory Nava & Anna Thomas and Edward Norton from the book Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo by Hayden Herrera. Taymor was going to be ready to shoot two months before the J. Lo version, which conceded and was canceled.

Hayek – who shares an even more uncanny physical resemblance with Kahlo than Laura San Giacomo does – had been negotiating to play the charismatic painter for eight years, almost as long as she’d been recognizable in the U.S. By the time the film finally went before the cameras, she’d reduced her salary to the SAG minimum of $70,000.

Shot for only $12 million, Frida received good reviews and played well for audiences who saw it. Miramax threw the film in their Oscar cuisinart fall of 2002, along with Gangs of New York and Chicago. Frida received six Academy Award nominations – including Best Actress for Hayek – but never got the marketing push lavished on the gang movie, or the song and dance movie. The Frida movie came and went from theaters.

Opinion 
Frida was never going to be a hit with mass audiences – there’s no Hobbits in it – but for anyone with an interest in art or Mexican culture, this is the best narrative film that anybody could have possibly made about Frida Kahlo. Julie Taymor – who directed the stage version of The Lion King – employs a playful and highly imaginative approach to Kahlo’s life, with a very good script and one of the most prestigious casts of the decade.

There was a lot in the film that blew me away, from the courageous performances, to the vivid color palette, to some fantastic staging Taymor uses to express Kahlo’s internal landscape (puppeteers Brothers Quay designed one of the sequences). In the end, I don’t know if Kahlo’s life or her achievements are on par with even someone like Tina Modotti, but the film has a passion and sense of humor Kahlo might have recognized.

“Hayek delivers an emotional, intense and ultimately joyful film that touches the soul and grabs at the imagination,” writes Crazy For Cinema.

Nigel Watson at Talking Pictures says, “My overall impression of the film is that it’s just another glossy Hollywood view of a struggling artist.”

“Technically the film looks amazing … Still, the whole thing is a bit too mannered to let us in personally. It’s more observational than involving. But what an amazing story to watch,” writes Rich Cline at Shadows on the Wall.

“Alcoba Azul”. View Salma Hayek & Ashley Judd’s beguiling tango scene. Music composed by Elliot Goldenthal.

© Joe Valdez

In 2029, Major Motoko Kusanagi spies on a building, where a foreign diplomat conspires with a hacker to seek asylum in his country. The hacker is wanted to fix a “bug” in something called Project 2501. As police from another section raid the room, Kusangi takes off her clothes, jumps from the roof and employing “thermo-optic camouflage,” fires through the window, blowing the diplomat’s head off.

Kusanagi is completely synthetic except for her brain and a segment of her spinal cord. Rogue programmers have learned to “ghost hack” into cybernetic bodies like hers, reading their thoughts, or even controlling their actions. One such hacker is The Puppet Master, and when it’s discovered he hacked into the diplomat’s interpreter, Kusanagi joins the hunt for him.

Joined by Togusa – a cop with most of his original body – and Batou, Kusanagi tracks down a garbage man who hacked into the interpreter. He’s under the control of another hacker, who uses high velocity ammo to shoot it out with Batou. Kusanagi uses her thermo-optics to turn invisible and disarm the hacker. Interrogation reveals that both men have been planted with false memories by the Puppet Master to carry out his bidding.

Kusanagi wonders what it means to be human and whether she still qualifies. The investigation gets a break when a cybernetic female assembled at the same plant as Kusanagi escapes and is hit by a truck. Analysis of the shell indicates that there is a “ghost,” or sentient mind, inside. The ghost in the shell is the Puppet Master, who reveals that it never had a body, but is a computer program created by the government. It has achieved consciousness, and wants asylum.

While this is being debated, a government agent sneaks into the building using thermo-optics and snatches the Puppet Master’s body. As Kusanagi chases it by helicopter, indications are that the Puppet Master was created by the government to do its dirty work, and now they want to eradicate the runaway program. Kusanagi shoots it out with a walking tank, and is asked by the Puppet Master to merge with her body and give birth to a new entity.

Directed by Mamoru Oshii and adapted by Kazunori Ito from the manga by Masamune Shirow, Ghost In The Shell was one of the first anime films to cross over and become a cult hit in the U.S. The Wachowski Brothers acknowledged its influence on The Matrix, and even showed the film to producer Joel Silver to indicate the style of movie they had in mind.

The Matrix started in the present day and gradually immersed us in its futuristic cybertronic world, with the assured voice of Laurence Fishburne to guide us along. There is no road map for Ghost In The Shell. I had to watch it three times and conduct research – first on the manga, then on the film – to figure out what was going on.

There are arresting visuals throughout, from Kusanagi plunging through the sea while diving, to the two shootouts, which are as high volume and exciting as any found in the Wachowski trilogy. As loud as the movie is in some moments, it’s contemplative in others. It asks intriguing questions. There’s a very good story in here about the ethics of merging humanity with technology.

But this is a disorienting movie. That could be good, or bad, depending on what you’re in the mood for. It’s never made clear what “ghost hacking” is, why the characters are doing anything, or where they are (the manga was modeled after Kobe, the film after Hong Kong). Once I was fine not having any of that explained to me, like a standard Hollywood action spectacle, I really dug this.

As Japan moves from medieval times and into the modern world, teenage prince Ashitaka saves his village from attack by a demon, a giant boar rampaging through the forest, afflicted by a curse. Ashitaka is scarred on his right arm in the fierce battle, and is advised that the evil wound will eventually spread, until he becomes so consumed with hatred, he’ll die.

Metal found in the boar is believed to be the source of his curse, so Ashitaka heads to the land where the material came from, seeking a cure. Riding out on a loyal red elk, he comes across samurai massacring a village, and discovers that when he experiences rage, his cursed arm becomes imbued with superhuman strength. Ashitaka fires his arrows with such speed and accuracy that he severs the arms of one samurai, and decapitates another.

He meets a fortune hunting monk, Jigo, who seems ambivalent to Ashitaka’s problems. “These days, there are angry ghosts all around us. Dead from wars, sickness, starvation, and nobody cares.” He tells the prince that he might be able to find answers in Irontown.

A wagon train headed to Irontown is attacked by a giant wolf, Moro, her cubs, and a teenage girl, Princess Mononoke. The humans are equipped with gunpowder, and under the steady leadership of Lady Eboshi, repel the wolves. Ashitaka rescues two men thrown from a cliff in the attack, and with the help of tree spirits, is led through the forest to Irontown.

Lady Eboshi explains to Ashitaka that a war is brewing between the humans, who need to mine the mountain, and the forest spirits, who are angered at the destruction of their habitat. Eboshi was the one who shot the giant boar. Ashitaka considers killing her for this, but is struck by the fact that Eboshi has welcomed lepers and prostitutes into her community, which needs to mine the mountain in order to survive.

Under cover of darkness, Mononoke infiltrates Irontown and engages Lady Eboshi in a duel. Ashitaka falls in love Mononoke, and while he shares her concern for the forest, also sympathizes with the hard working people of Irontown. He sees both Mononoke and Eboshi as blinded by their hatred for each other and wants to find a way to stop them from fighting. Ashitaka is not successful, and a war erupts that threatens the fate of the entire planet.

Written and directed by Hayao Miyazaki, Princess Mononoke was a blockbuster in Japan, replacing E.T. as the biggest grossing film in the country’s history. Miramax purchased the U.S. distribution rights and wanted to cut the 134 minute film for time and for a PG rating. Miyazaki refused, and while Miramax did employ a cast of A-list stars to lend their voices to the English language version, it was released in few theaters in 1999.

The breadth of the universe created by Miyazaki surpasses any Disney or Pixar film, or Star Wars, in terms of its scope and imagination. The film opens spectacularly, with ominous narration, fantastic music, and gorgeous animation, as our hero speeds through stone trenches on an elk, climbs a watchtower and combats a monster that slithers out of the forest with his bow and arrow.

I was reminded of The Hobbit here, with its hero leaving home for a journey across strange lands, encountering deadly beasts, and a war between man and the supernatural. The characters are even more involving than Tolkien’s. Ashitaka is earnest and plain, but Mononoke and Eboshi have complexity and strong motivation. Their duel is the peak of the film, and nothing that comes after it can measure up in terms of compelling drama.

Imagine if Tolkien had forgotten about Frodo, or getting the one ring to Mount Doom, and focused the climax of Return of the King on the issue of deforestation. This is the last half hour of Princess Mononoke, and instead of inspiring the imagination, Miyazaki just dulls it. His ecological message resonates just fine, and shouldn’t have been delivered at the expense of the story or characters.

The animation is excelsior, and there are glimpses of greatness: Ashitaka taking on samurai, Mononoke and Eboshi clashing swords, an army of giant boar attacking Irontown. But the movie turns out like the Great Spirit of the Forest, a slow meditation on the ecology. Miramax opened the film in thirteen theaters in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, and based on its tepid reception there, did not release it wide across the U.S.

Audiences in Japan were more comfortable with the pace, and the film is considered a classic there. Neil Gaiman seamlessly adapted the screenplay into English, while Billy Crudup, Claire Danes, Minnie Driver, Keith David, Billy Bob Thornton (as Jigo) and Gillian Anderson (as Moro) lent their voices to the English language version, the most talented cast ever recorded for a Studio Ghibli film.

Atop the Tama Hills of West Tokyo, 14-year-old Shizuku Tsukishima lives with her mother – who is finishing her degree – and father, a librarian at the middle school she attends. Shizuku spends the summer in her room reading books, or writing song lyrics, adapting “Take Me Home, Country Roads” to “Concrete Roads” to better suit her neighborhood.

Shizuku helps her best friend Yuko deal with a crush on a classmate, and endures her older sister, who returns from college and berates Shizuku for not taking school more seriously. Shizuku is more intrigued by her library books, which she discovers have all been checked out prior by the mysterious “Seiji Amasawa.” She sets out to find him.

One day, Shizuku notices a cat riding the train with her. It gets off at her station and she follows it, through a warren of steep alleyways and into a curiosity shop. Shizuku meets the shopkeeper, and becomes enamored with an antique cat figurine he calls The Baron. Shizuku discovers Seiji Amasawa is actually the shopkeeper’s grandson, an aloof older classmate who teased her earlier about her “corny lyrics.”

Shizuku’s initial encounters with Seiji are tense, but the more time she spends at the shop, the more attracted she becomes to him. Seiji toils in the basement learning the craft of violin making, his life’s singular ambition. Embarrassed that she doesn’t have a goal like that, Shizuku dedicates herself to becoming a writer. She starts staying up late, writing a fantasy story about The Baron.

Rumors swirl around school that Shizuku has finally found something she loves more than books. Seiji notifies her that he’s been accepted to a two month apprenticeship under a violin maker in Italy, and Shizuku’s schoolwork is put to the side while she toils to finish her story, and to find her life’s singular ambition.

Directed by Yoshifumi Kondo and adapted by Hayao Miyazaki from the manga If You Listen Closely by Aoi Hiiragi, Whisper of the Heart was Kondo’s debut film as director for Studio Ghibli. He died suddenly in 1998 of an aneurysm, which some felt was brought on by work related stress. This prompted Miyazaki to retire from animation, which thankfully, ended up being short-lived.

Ranking my favorite Studio Ghibli film of all time is even more futile than trying to rank my favorite by Disney, but Whisper of the Heart is up there. Instead of taking us away to a fantasy world, it takes place in a neighborhood like any other, tackling adolescent dilemmas – homework or schoolyard crushes – but with depth and character based humor that I rarely see in movies anymore.

The film is stunning, both to look at, and listen to. No detail is too small, from trains in the distance, to the pen cases the students snap shut, or the sound of cicadas in the trees. The sequence where Shizuku follows the cat off the train and to the curiosity shop sums up the movie. In live action, this might have seemed ridiculous, boring, or both. As rendered by Studio Ghibli, it uncovers a hidden world of the unseen and unsaid that never ceases to fascinate.

The ending feels abrupt and kind of silly, but the closing credits, which run under a bridge as the people of Tama Hills stroll across the top, reaffirm how beautiful this film is in capturing the rhythms of normal, everyday life. Walt Disney Studios dubbed this into English in 2006, featuring Brittany Snow as Shizuku, Jean Smart & James B. Sikking as her parents, and Cary Elwes as The Baron. This is one of the finest animated films I’ve seen.

“It’s rare for a film in any genre to valorize writing poetry and literacy, and rarer still for a film essentially about nothing to sport so many moments of genuinely fruitful observation,” writes Walter Chaw at Film Freak Central.

Daniel Thomas at Conversations on Ghibli raves, “This is just about the best coming-of-age story ever made, full of vigor and wonder, full of the spark of youth. I certainly can’t think of a film that is as dizzingly lovable and sincere as Whisper of the Heart.”

“It’s guiltless, entertaining, well acted, has a wonderful story, unique lore and beautiful characterization. Miyazaki’s to-be protege would have continued his legacy well,” says Cinema Crazed.