“Portmanteau” is French for “coat rack”. Lewis Carroll appropriated the word in 1871 for Through The Looking Glass to explain two words merged into one; “chortle” is a portmanteau Carroll invented, while “Internet”, “blog” and “sexploitation” are three he did not. In the month of January, I’ll take a look at portmanteau films, where we find different coats hanging in the same closet, whether tailored by one filmmaker or the collaborative effort of several.

Fantasia (1940)
Directed by Samuel Armstrong (segments: Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, The Nutcracker Suite), James Algar (segment: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice), Bill Roberts & Paul Satterfield (segment: The Rite of Spring), David D. Hand (segment: Meet the Soundtrack), Hamilton Luske, Jim Handley & Ford Beebe (segment: The Pastoral Symphony), T. Hee & Norm Ferguson (segment: Dance of the Hours), Wilfred Jackson (segment: Night on Bald Mountain/ Ave Maria)
Written by Lee Blair, Elmer Plummer, Phil Dike (segment: Toccata and Fugue in D Minor), Sylvia Moberly-Holland, Norman Wright, Albert Heath, Bianca Majolie, Graham Heid (segment: The Nutcracker Suite), Perce Pearce, Carl Fallberg (segment: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice), William Martin, Leo Thiele, Robert Sterner, John Fraser McLeish (segment: The Rite of Spring), Otto Englander, Webb Smith, Erdman Penner, Joseph Sabo, Bill Peet, Vernon Stallings (segment: The Pastoral Symphony), Campbell Grant, Arthur Heinemann, Phil Dike (segment: Night on Bald Mountain/ Ave Maria)
Produced by Walt Disney, Ben Sharpsteen
125 minutes (roadshow version)/ 88 minutes (general release version)/ 124 minutes (DVD version)

Like piano lessons or spinach, Fantasia wavers between arduous and unpalatable, at least for those kiddies notified that the program will be good for them. Revisiting the film as an adult is a revelation. In late 1937, flush from the success of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Walt Disney hit on the idea of an animated short that would interpret a piece of classical music through the medium Disney’s studio was pioneering: motion picture animation. Paul Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice was selected, but the project grew from a short to a feature length portmanteau film, which Disney insisted be recorded stereophonically to mimic the acoustics of a concert hall. His engineers developed a stereo sound system dubbed “Fantasound”, but most exhibitors refused to pony up for its installation. Upon its U.S. release in November 1940, Fantasia was screened in only 14 theaters before being drastically recut for a general release.

Produced for roughly $2.2 million, Fantasia returned only $361,800 in its initial theatrical run, with World War II cutting off most of the international market. Despite winning two special Academy Awards, the picture was regarded as a failure by Disney himself. In 1969, the studio urged exhibitors to market the reissue the same way they would Easy Rider, “a special kind of trip”. Baby Boomers embraced it and today, the film is regarded as one of Disney’s milestone achievements. In essence, Fantasia is one of the boldest experiments (re: head-trips) Hollywood has ever produced. Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker Suite is the most dazzling segment, in both the playful mystery of the music and its singular visual interpretation, with sprites putting on a fireworks display for the unseen world. The more open the imagination — or the more inebriated the cerebellum — the more stimulating the film proves to be.

Joining the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra in front of an immense canvas draped in blue light, emcee Deems Taylor introduces the first of eight classical music compositions conducted by Leopold Stokowski and interpreted by the artists of Walt Disney Studios. Johann Sebastian Bach’s Toccata and Fugue In D Minor is a thundering trip through rays of light, cloud forms and geometric shapes. Nature is explored through Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker Suite, with sugarplum faeries animating inanimate objects of the natural world. Paul Duka’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice tells the familiar story of magic and mischief with a mute Mickey Mouse as the star. Igor Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring is set to the biggest story in the universe, the evolution of life on earth, from its creation in the seas to its near extinction in the age of dinosaurs.

Returning after a brief intermission, our emcee employs the unsung hero of the Fantasia program — The Soundtrack — to appear and introduce several of the instruments of a symphony orchestra. Next up is Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6, The Pastoral Symphony, with unicorns, fawns, centaurs and the creatures of Greek myth enjoying a bacchanal, which is threatened by the appearance of Zeus and a lightning storm brought down by Vulcan. Andre Ponchielli’s Dance of the Hours from the opera La Gioconda finds a ballet dancing hippo wooed by a hungry crocodile. The final segment combines two contrasting pieces; Modeste Moussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain opens with Satan conducting the armies of darkness in a booming nocturnal festival, which is defeated by dawn and the bells of Franz Schubert’s reverent Ave Maria.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 104,499 users: 77% for Fantasia

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: Not available

What do you say?

“Portmanteau” is French for “coat rack”. Lewis Carroll appropriated the word in 1871 for Through The Looking Glass to explain two words merged into one; “chortle” is a portmanteau Carroll invented, while “Internet”, “blog” and “sexploitation” are three he did not. In the month of January, I’ll take a look at portmanteau films, where we find different coats hanging in the same closet, whether tailored by one filmmaker or the collaborative effort of several.

Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life (1983)
Directed by Terry Jones, Terry Gilliam (segment: The Crimson Permanent Assurance)
Written by Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Michael Palin
Produced by John Goldstone
106 minutes

Proving that a glimmer from Monty Python is a supernova compared to what constitutes comedy in other galaxies, The Meaning of Life is a greater portmanteau film, even if it ranks as lesser Python. The group was born in the undergraduate revues of Cambridge, where Graham Chapman, John Cleese and Eric Idle were students, and Oxford, where Terry Jones and Michael Palin met. While touring New York, Cleese met an American illustrator named Terry Gilliam. Through writing and performing satirical sketches on British stage, radio and television in the late 1960s, the six formed a comedy troupe. After four hugely influential TV series and two ridiculously profitable feature films, the group ventured to Jamaica — where they’d written Life of Brian (1979) — unable to agree on their next movie. Python hit on the idea of stitching together material by using the meaning of life as glue.

As with Life of Brian, Terry Jones would direct and Terry Gilliam would provide the animation, as well as a fantastic short film titled The Crimson Permanent Assurance that grew into a 16-minute segment. Awarded the Grand Jury Prize at the 1983 Cannes Film Festival, The Meaning of Life would be the last time all six members of Python worked together, with Graham Chapman dying of cancer in 1989. Gilliam’s whimsical short, with rousing music by John Du Prez and delightful model work, is the #1 reason to see the film, which peaks at the 1-hour mark with a sketch so flagrant it transcends flagrance. Even with longer pauses between the belly laughs, the hand craftsmanship and relentless social satire of Python is all here, cutting down performers they’ve influenced — namely veterans of Saturday Night Live who’ve given the movies a try — with a thousand arrows.

In a “short feature presentation”, aging accountants in London mutiny against their corporate masters, raising anchor on the Crimson Permanent Assurance and sailing the building to pillage the financial world. As the feature presentation begins, six goldfish (Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Michael Palin) in a restaurant aquarium ponder what life is all about. In the first of twelve sketches, surgeons (Chapman, Cleese) get to the business of delivering a baby. The patriarch (Palin) of a Roman Catholic family in the slums of Yorkshire explains the predicament of contraception to his several dozen of children in a song titled “Every Sperm Is Sacred”. A public schoolteacher (Cleese) instructs a class on sex education with the help of his wife. Sent to fight in the Great War, a sergeant (Jones) is distracted from a mission when his men insist on showering him with presents.

Examining middle age, an American couple (Palin, Idle) vacation in a resort with an authentic medieval dungeon, ordering “conversation” about the meaning of life from their waiter (Cleese), who suggests “Live Organ Transplants” as a topic. Two paramedics (Chapman, Cleese) perform a liver removal before the donor is dead; they convince his wife (Jones) to volunteer her liver as well by introducing her to a man (Idle) whose song about the galaxy demonstrates how futile human existence is. Death is explored when the grossly obese Mr. Creosote (Jones) arrives at a French restaurant but is unable to hold down his meal. The Grim Reaper pays a visit to a dinner party, where the guests mistake him for “one of the men from the village”. Wrapping up the sketches, a TV host (Palin) delivers viewers the meaning of life, interjecting her own commentary.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 22,708 users: 83% for Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: Not available

What do you say?

“Portmanteau” is French for “coat rack”. Lewis Carroll appropriated the word in 1871 for Through The Looking Glass to explain two words merged into one; “chortle” is a portmanteau Carroll invented, while “Internet”, “blog” and “sexploitation” are three he did not. In the month of January, I’ll take a look at portmanteau films, where we find different coats hanging in the same closet, whether tailored by one filmmaker or the collaborative effort of several.

The Ten (2007)
Directed by David Wain
Written by Ken Marino & David Wain
Produced by Jonathan Stern, Ken Marino, David Wain, Paul Rudd, Morris S. Levy
96 minutes

Few portmanteau films can maintain a steady course throughout, but The Ten is a barrel of monkeys going over Niagara Falls. Ken Marino & David Wain met in 1993 as writers for the MTV sketch comedy series The State, which Wain co-created. The show’s cult following kept it on the air for three short seasons and ultimately, most of the cast formed the core of Reno: 911! on Comedy Central. Marino & Wain continued to write, riffing on the Ten Commandments until they had material to fill the script for a feature film. Producer Jonathan Stern got involved after working with the pair on Diggers, a little seen 2006 drama written by Marino and executive produced by Wain. Their lead actor Paul Rudd also joined as a producer. The Ten got a pass by the major studios, but Danny Fisher of City Lights Media Group and Morris S. Levy of MEGA Films were able to raise roughly $4 million in financing.

Shot in 28 days in Los Angeles, New York and Mexico City, the film was screened for the first time at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival, where THINKFilm acquired North American distribution rights and gave it a very limited theatrical release that August in the U.S. The Ten is like a camp for grownups where college humor lives forever. It flounders between obnoxious and tasteless, which would be okay if it were funnier. Using the same blueprint as Wain’s feature film debut Wet Hot American Summer (2001) — the last time Janeane Garafalo was given something to do in a live action movie — The Ten gift wraps Winona Ryder for her best work in decades, maybe ever, with Thou Shalt Not Steal by far the best of the sketches. Augenblick Studios provided the second best piece, an animated one. The rest of the material may bore anybody who’s already declared a major.

Entering stage in front of two giant tablets, Jeff Riegert (Paul Rudd) is harangued by his wife Gretchen (Famke Janssen) as he introduces ten stories inspired by the Ten Commandments. A skydiving mishap confines a man (Adam Brody) to a hole, where celebrity worship goes to his head. A chaste librarian (Gretchen Mol) travels to Mexico, where she takes the Lord’s name in vain by discovering her lover (Justin Theroux) is really Jesus Christ. A doctor (Ken Marino) pays the price for killing a patient as a “goof”. Two black teenagers (Cedric Sanders, Arlen Escapeta) humor their white mother (Kerri Kenney) when she brings home an Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonator (Oliver Platt) to pose as their biological father. Two neighbors (Liev Schreiber, Joe Lo Truglio) covet each other’s goods and compete to acquire the most CAT Scan machines.

Jeff has enough of Gretchen and takes up with a nubile girl (Jessica Alba) he has little in common with. Back to the stories, the imprisoned doctor covets a fellow convict (Rob Corddry) to the chagrin of the cellmate who’s made him his prison bitch. A newlywed (Winona Ryder) becomes so enamored with a ventriloquist’s dummy that she steals it and goes on the run. Dope fiends console the ventriloquist (Michael Zeigfeld) with the tale of a lying rhino bearing false witness to the animals in his neighborhood. Jeff & Gretchen bump into each other and attempt to rekindle their passion, with Jeff’s marriage to Dianne Weist qualifying it as an act of adultery. Finally, a husband (A.D. Miles) rebels against his wife’s desire for him to attend church by starting a club where suburban men can hang out naked and do little else but listen to Roberta Flack on the Sabbath.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 10,291 users: 40% for The Ten

Metacritic “Metascore” average among 22 leading critics: 50 for The Ten

What do you say?

This month’s theme was hatched after yet another person with better taste than me recommended that I add the 2005 romantic drama Shopgirl to my queue. Looking for nine more films with similar themes, “Laundromat”, “Love Triangle” and “Shaving Legs” were all considered and rejected before I settled on “May December Romance”. So in the month of December, I’ll take a look at love separated by much more than just six months on the calendar.

The Girl in the Café (2005)
Directed by David Yates
Written by Richard Curtis
Produced by Hilary Bevan Jones
93 minutes

Desaturated of artificial sweeteners and preservatives, The Girl in the Café is lean, thoughtful and a small work of beauty, another exhibit in the case that TV has overtaken feature films in terms of quality. A co-founder of the U.K.’s Comic Relief charity and supporter of Make Poverty History — which pushed for debt relief, aid and trade to the Third World — screenwriter Richard Curtis sought to marry the world of politics with his other passion: the romantic comedy. The creator of Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Love Actually, Curtis had a mainstream Hollywood production in mind, with a star like Jack Nicholson falling in love with his political contrarian at the United Nations. But Curtis discovered the faster production schedule of television would get the film finished in time for the G8 summit in Scotland, where extreme poverty was to be the focus.

Opting to make The Girl in the Café the highlight of a broadcast season raising awareness for global poverty, BBC1 controller Lorraine Heggessey financed the picture for £2 million, roughly $3.8 million USD. Producer Hilary Bevan Jones sought out David Yates, director of British television’s State of Play and Sex Traffic. Jones’ production company Tightrope Pictures produced the film with BBC and HBO, which aired it June 2005. In contrast to Love Actually, which Richard Curtis tricked out with every bell and whistle in the North Pole, The Girl in the Café settles into an everyday grace that surpasses anything he’s written for the screen. With a smaller scale, the Hugh Grant & Julia Roberts parts are played instead by Bill Nighy & Kelly Macdonald. Much more subdued and far more believable than a couple of stars would have been, Nighy & Macdonald are blissful to watch flourish in leading roles.

A statistician named Lawrence (Bill Nighy) breaks for tea at a café in Piccadilly Square. The crowd forces him to share a table with Gina (Kelly Macdonald), a young woman also taking her tea alone. Lawrence offers that he’s employed at Downing Street in work that requires “a lot of paper, a lot of pens”. Gina reveals little more than she does nothing and is a student of sorts. The conversation flows well enough for the socially awkward Lawrence to ask Gina to dinner before returning to work, where his boss, Chancellor of the Exchequer (Ken Stott) and his staff prepare for an economic summit. As Lawrence and Gina get to know each other over inedible pea soup and other delights, Lawrence reveals that he’s headed to a shindig in Reykjavik, Iceland known as the G8 conference, where the leaders of the free world hammer out policy for the next year.

Offering that they could both learn some new facts about Iceland, Lawrence invites Gina to accompany him to the summit. He suffers the embarrassment of realizing the room they’ve been booked only has one bed, but Gina offers to sleep on the couch so the numbers cruncher can be refreshed for negotiations. The British push for an ambitious resolution on debt, aid and trade to Africa, but see that vision pared down due to resistance by the Americans. While Lawrence suffers impending defeat quietly, Gina implores those she meets not to shrink from their responsibility to save the lives of millions. Urged to send the troublemaker home, Lawrence finds he is unable to. He vouches for her behavior and invites the girl in the café to a reception for the British prime minister, where Gina’s inability to sit silent on the issues has major consequences for their relationship.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average: Not available

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: Not available

What do you say?

This month’s theme was hatched after yet another person with better taste than me recommended that I add the 2005 romantic drama Shopgirl to my queue. Looking for nine more films with similar themes, “Polaroid”, “Sushi” and “Loan Payment” were all considered and rejected before I settled on “May December Romance”. So in the month of December, I’ll take a look at love separated by much more than just six months on the calendar.

Elegy (2008)
Directed by Isabel Coixet
Screenplay by Nicholas Meyer, based on the novel The Dying Animal by Philip Roth
Produced by Gary Lucchesi, Tom Rosenberg, Andre Lamal
112 minutes

If Elegy wasn’t a movie, it would probably be a rug, the rugs that men of a certain age wear on their heads. Pulitzer Prize winning author Philip Roth had two of his novels adapted by the movies — Goodbye, Columbus (1969) and Portnoy’s Complaint (1974) — but it wasn’t until Nicholas Meyer adapted The Human Stain (2003) for Lakeshore Entertainment that the results were even somewhat well received. Lakeshore optioned the film rights to Roth’s 2001 novel The Dying Animal and founder Tom Rosenberg sent a copy to Penelope Cruz. The actress spent five years lobbying to get a film made. With Meyer tackling a script, the producers wooed Al Pacino for the role of professor David Kepesh. Cruz had more luck getting fellow Spaniard Isabel Coixet, director of My Life Without Me and The Secret Life of Words, behind the camera, with Ben Kingsley as Kepesh.

Under a title Nicholas Meyer coined, Elegy commenced shooting April 2007 in Vancouver. Though Lakeshore had a deal with MGM, the film was screened for the first time at the 2008 Berlin Film Festival without a distributor. Samuel Goldwyn Films agreed to release it in the U.S., with Netflix’s Red Envelope Entertainment promoting the DVD among its subscribers. Elegy is intimately crafted, with Isabel Coixet dialing down the melodrama and striking a rhythm that’s soulful and intimate. The dialogue is cut from equal fine quality, but the story of a student entering into an affair with her professor is older than dirt. If there was anywhere to go with this material, Elegy is unwilling or unable to. Ben Kingsley doesn’t exhibit the charm the role called for, though Penelope Cruz has never been more appealing in an English speaking role.

Appearing on The Charlie Rose Show to promote his book about hedonism in pre-colonial America, author David Kepesh (Ben Kingsley) hints at regret he’s experienced for a marriage in the 1960s that did not live up to its promise. Kepesh looks back on how passion recently entered and exited his life by recalling a student named Consuela Castillo (Penelope Cruz) in his practical criticism class at Columbia. Attracted to her beauty and sophistication, Kepesh waits until grades have been passed out and he throws a cocktail party for his students to make his move. She gives her professor permission to stop calling her “Miss Castillo”. He replies, “There’s something about you that invites a kind of formality.” Consuela accepts his invitation to see a play. Kepesh’s best friend poet George O’Hearn (Dennis Hopper) ridicules this, advising Kepesh not to mix conversation up with sex.

Wrapping up a round of “pure fucking” with his lover of 20 years, Caroline (Patricia Clarkson), Kepesh receives a call from his son (Peter Sarsgaard), a doctor still coming to terms with his father’ walking out on his mother. After their date, Kepesh lures Consuela to his apartment by agreeing to play the piano for her. They spend the night together. Though Kepesh maintains to George that Consuela likely thinks of him as a new experience and nothing more, the couple is unable to move on. A relationship blossoms, but Kepesh realizes he’ll never possess Consuela and obsesses over her. She reads him the riot act and allays the professor’s fears of their 30-year age difference, but his insecurity erodes the love affair, prompting Kepesh to return to the familiarity of Caroline. Two years later, out of the blue, Consuela returns to Kepesh with a revelation.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 10,718 users: 60% for Elegy

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 66 for Elegy

What do you say?

This month’s theme was hatched after someone with much better taste recommended that I add the 2005 romantic drama Shopgirl to my queue. Looking for nine more films with similar themes, “Based on Novel”, “Redhead” and “Salesgirl” were all considered and rejected before I settled on “May December Romance”. So in the month of December, I’ll take a look at love separated by much more than just six months on the calendar.

Crazy Heart (2009)
Directed by Scott Cooper
Screenplay by Scott Cooper, based on the novel by Thomas Cobb
Produced by Scott Cooper, Robert Duvall, Rob Carliner, Judy Cairo, T Bone Burnett
112 minutes

Stripped down to longing, regret and inspiration, Crazy Heart is the film version of a country tune, small but perfect. A journeyman actor, Scott Cooper’s role in Gods and Generals mostly hit the cutting room floor. He did get to work with Robert Duvall and the two became friends. An aspiring writer-director, Cooper’s grand ambition was to make the life story of Merle Haggard. He spent a year on the road with the recording legend, whose life rights the aspiring filmmaker realized were knotted in legal thorns. Luckily, an acquaintance gave Cooper a copy of Thomas Cobb’s 1987 novel Crazy Heart, the tale of a boozed up and beat down songwriter equal parts Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings and Townes Van Zandt, Cooper’s musical heroes. He adapted a script and with the support of Robert Duvall, ultimately got his two wishes, landing the talents of music producer T Bone Burnett and actor Jeff Bridges.

Filmed mostly in New Mexico on a brisk 24-day schedule with a budget of $7 million, Crazy Heart rode universal critical acclaim all the way to the Academy Awards, where Ryan Bingman & T Bone Burnett (Best Original Song) and Jeff Bridges (Best Actor) won Oscars. Not as haunted as Robert Duvall’s down and out Max Sledge in Tender Mercies, Jeff Bridges channels the spirit of Kris Kristofferson, growling and fumbling his way through a character who’s a songwriter first, alcoholic second and entertainer further down the line. Cooper’s take on the material is character driven and nuanced, rejecting show business melodrama for a lower and far richer key. The soundtrack boasts some of the best original music I’ve heard in a movie in a long time, while the incomparable Maggie Gyllenhaal leads a fine supporting cast that includes Tom Bower, Rick Dial, Colin Farrell and ol’ Duvall himself.

Driving his ’78 Chevy Suburban into Pueblo, New Mexico, singer-songwriter Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is as disgusted to be booked into a bowling alley as he is to learn that his contract does not include a bar tab. 57 years old and flat broke, Bad rejects an offer relayed by his Beverly Hills manager (Paul Herman) to write some new songs for Tommy Sweet, a former protégé of Bad’s who is now a country music superstar. Barely making it through a set before puking his guts out, Bad fares much better in Santa Fe, where a piano player (Rick Dial) convinces the musician to grant a rare interview to his niece, an aspiring journalist. Dropping by his motel room while her subject scoops his dinner wearing only a towel, Jean Craddock (Maggie Gyllenhaal) brings out the best in Bad, though he declines to answer any questions about Tommy Sweet or his children.

Continuing her interview over two-night his stop in Santa Fe, Jean’s spirit seems to drop the years off Bad. After sleeping together, she agrees to let him bake biscuits for her 4-year-old son, who takes an immediate liking to the Texan. Bad swallows his pride and accepts an offer to open for Tommy Sweet in Phoenix. In spite of his super stardom, Tommy (Colin Farrell) extends gratitude toward his broken down mentor, even joining him on stage. Bad makes a beeline back to Santa Fe, falling asleep at the wheel and rolling the Suburban. He ignores doctor’s orders to quit drinking and implores Jean to come visit him back home in Houston. The romance inspires Bad to write new material for the first time in years and to telephone his estranged 28-year-old son, but his drinking takes a sudden toll on the relationship when Jean arrives for a visit with her son.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 101,594 users: 72% for Crazy Heart

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 83 for Crazy Heart

What do you say?

Logging in to Netflix Instant for a movie to watch is like being hungry and shown to a food replicator. It doesn’t solve my problem — it introduces one thousand new ones. Luckily, I can see which genres are rated higher in nutritional content, in this case, 4 or 4 ½ star ratings out of 5 stars. “Documentary” had a lot of those. So did “Anime & Animation”. In the month of November, I take another trip around the globe to sample recent animated feature films. Next stop: East London, U.K.

Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009)
Directed by Wes Anderson
Screenplay by Wes Anderson & Noah Baumbach, based on the novel by Roald Dahl
Produced by Allison Abate, Scott Rudin, Wes Anderson, Jeremy Dawson
87 minutes

10-year-olds playing in their rooms with tens of millions of dollars begets the sixth film from Wes Anderson. The filmmaker was so enamored by the work of Roald Dahl — citing the author’s 1970 book Fantastic Mr. Fox as the first he owned — that in 2001, Anderson lobbied Dahl’s widow Felicity for the film rights. Five years later, Fox announced they would finance and distribute the stop motion animated picture. Shot over one year at Three Mills Studios in East London, Anderson actually spent most of that time in Paris. His decision to collaborate via email did not sit well with his crew, while animation director Mark Gustafson — who made the claymation ad campaign for California Raisins — was bewildered by some of Anderson’s creative decisions, which subverted modern technology and were painstaking to execute. The budget arrived at roughly $40 million.

One of the most impressive feats of Fantastic Mr. Fox is how Wes Anderson tries something completely different here while crafting what also feels very much like an Anderson film, from its misunderstood mastermind, picture book compositions, retro soundtrack (“Heroes and Villains” and “Ol’ Man River” by The Beach Boys are used to memorable effect) and unmistakable whimsy. It’s like Bottle Rocket brought to life by puppets on loan from a 1960s holiday TV special. Unlike Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, the story has little if anything to say, but the rudimentary design of the special effects is such a welcome respite from 3-D and the bombastic digital effects that litter children’s films. Though Anderson cut a narration by Jarvis Cocker, the English musician appears out of nowhere as a folk singer and contributes to a soundtrack that includes a beautiful score by Alexandre Desplat.

Mr. Fox (George Clooney) promises to turn over a new leaf for the pregnant Mrs. Fox (Meryl Streep) after his grandiose ambitions snare them in a trap while stealing chickens. Two years (12 fox years) later, Mr. Fox ekes out a living as a newspaper columnist while coveting far greater prosperity. He purchases a beech tree, ignoring the advice of his attorney Badger (Bill Murray) that his neighbors would be three of the meanest farmers in the valley. Walt Boggis (Robin Hurlstone) is a fat chicken farmer. Nate Bunce (Hugo Guinness) is a dwarfish duck and goose farmer. Frank Bean (Michael Gambon) is a turkey and apple farmer, quite possibly the meanest man alive. Mr. Fox moves his family into their new home, but is unable to resist the temptation of one last job, drafting his dim-witted superintendent — the opossum Kylie (Wally Wolodarsky) — to assist.

Searching for an identity, Mr. Fox’s awkward teenage son Ash (Jason Schwartzman) is frustrated by the arrival of his cousin Kristofferson (Eric Anderson), whose athleticism wins him an invitation to join Mr. Fox’s gang. After successful raids of Boggis’ chicken coop and Bean’s alcoholic cider cellar, all three farmers stake out Fox’s tree and open fire, shooting off his tail. The family soon has bigger problems when the farmers try to dig them out, sending the critters tunneling underground for survival. Rescued by an assortment of badgers, beavers and rabbits, Mr. Fox retaliates by tunneling into the farms of his tormentors. In a bid for his father’s approval, Ash attempts a raid of his own, employing the help of Kristofferson. When only one of them returns, Mr. Fox contemplates a suicide mission, only to come to his senses and recruiting his friends in a go-for-broke rescue mission.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 111,105 users: 79% for Fantastic Mr. Fox

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 83 for Fantastic Mr. Fox

What do you say?

Logging in to Netflix Instant for a movie to watch is like being hungry and shown to a food replicator. It doesn’t solve my problem — it introduces one thousand new ones. Luckily, I can see which genres are rated higher in nutritional content, in this case, 4 or 4 ½ star ratings out of 5 stars. “Documentary” had a lot of those. So did “Anime & Animation”. In the month of November, I take another trip around the globe to sample recent animated feature films.  First stop: Emeryville, California, USA.

WALL-E (2008)
Directed by Andrew Stanton
Screenplay by Andrew Stanton & Jim Reardon, story by Andrew Stanton & Pete Docter
Produced by Jim Morris
98 minutes

The most visionary film by Pixar Animation Studios to date — reaching for Fantasia, surpassing Tron and marrying science fiction to romance magnificently — is WALL-E. The idea was hatched in 1994 during a session in which animators tossed out ideas for a follow-up to Toy Story. One concept was the last robot on Earth, a machine that was stuck doing the same solitary job for all eternity. Andrew Stanton, who would co-direct and co-write A Bug’s Life and Finding Nemo, thought this was the saddest character he’d ever heard of. Animator Pete Docter agreed and the pair would return to the idea in 2002. Using the screenplay for Alien as a reference, Stanton & Docter wrote a script driven by description as opposed to dialogue. At a minimum budget of $180 million, WALL-E became the most expensive project from Emeryville yet. Every cent was bankrolled by Pixar’s parent company Disney.

After development testing got underway in 2005, Stanton and the story crew watched Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton films during lunch, getting into Harold Lloyd’s work for ideas as well. The absence of singing animals in an animated film would be cause for celebration; the absence of dialogue for the first 40 minutes of this picture is a revelation. If the film has a star, it’s sound designer Ben Burtt, who pioneered the field in Star Wars and E.T. The Extra Terrestrial and for WALL-E, engineered every click, blip and pop as if was language. Loaded with as much substance as audio/visual splendor, the film offers sophisticated entertainment for anyone in the mood for diversion while illustrating that mankind cannot keep producing garbage (or Wal-Marts) faster than the ecology can sustain them. Sigourney Weaver is nearly imperceptible as the voice of the Axiom’s computer.

In the distant future, mankind has abandoned rising toxicity levels on planet Earth for destinations beyond the stars. Carrying out his program unaware of these changes is WALL-E (voiced by Ben Burtt), a robot manufactured to scoop up and compact trash. WALL-E brightens his lonely routine by saving the best pieces of refuse — cigarette lighters, utensils, a VHS tape of Hello, Dolly! — to store them in the shipping crate where he powers down at night. One day, an infared dot appears on the ground. WALL-E chases the dot oblivious to a spacecraft that roars down on him. The craft dispatches a sleek anti-gravity probe that begins scanning the ruins. WALL-E becomes instantly smitten. Risking annihilation by her state of the art defenses, WALL-E introduces himself to the probe, whose name is EVE (voiced by Elissa Knight). Taking cover from a windstorm, he invites her to his home.

EVE reveals her directive when WALL-E shows her a seedling he discovered and keeps in an old shoe. EVE confiscates the plant and powers down, but WALL-E tethers her in Christmas lights and takes her on his rounds so they can remain close. When the spacecraft returns for the dormant EVE, WALL-E hitches a ride as it blasts through the cosmos. The spacecraft docks with the Axiom, an interstellar ocean liner where mankind has resided for the last 700 years. Due to disuse atrophy in zero gravity, humans have devolved into blobs that live out their days in a perpetual beach resort, drinking their food in cups and tended to by robots. The seedling WALL-E and EVE return sets in motion a protocol by the ship’s lethargic Captain (voiced by Jeff Garlin) to return to Earth, but the computer who really runs the Axiom takes measures to stop this from happening.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 192,598 users: 89% for WALL-E

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 94 for WALL-E

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As days get shorter, nights get longer and All Hallow’s Eve beckons, I can say that I won’t be wandering the streets dressed as Chewbacca begging for candy. What I can’t say is whether or not at my age, horror movies still have any surprises left in them. In the search for originality, it’d be a good idea to start anywhere but Hollywood. For the month of October, I take a trip around the globe to see what’s scaring some of my favorite countries these days.

[Rec] (2007)
Directed by Jaume Balagueró & Paco Plaza
Written by Jaume Balagueró, Luis Berdejo, Paco Plaza
Produced by Julio Fernández
78 minutes

In terms of thrills, [Rec] offers everything in the carnival except corndogs. The film was willed into existence out of a conversation between directors Jaume Balagueró (Darkness) and Paco Plaza (Second Name) over horror films, what they considered scary about them and what they didn’t. Agreeing that credibility seemed to be key, they came up with the idea of co-directing a first person, single camera thriller in the style of a TV news report. Sketching a scenario with Luis Berdejo, the project attracted Julio Fernandez, chairman of Barcelona based Filmax Entertainment, which put up a budget of roughly €1.5 million ($1.9 million USD). Casting unknowns and using director of photography Pablo Rosso to “play” the cameraman in the film, Balagueró & Plaza shot [Rec] chronologically, without giving their actors dialogue to recite or scripted events to anticipate.

Released November 2007 in Spain, [Rec] was a box office hit in its native land. It’s launched a 2009 sequel [Rec] 2, as well as a U.S. remake starring Jennifer Carpenter titled Quarantine (2008) which neither Balagueró or Plaza had a hand in. The Spanish language original is like an episode of Cops, if patrol officers and a camera crew were dispatched to an outbreak of living dead. Anyone adverse to shakycam or zombies might tire of the conceit quickly, but like a funhouse that someone put real ingenuity into, [Rec] is an enjoyable brand of cheap, with an intense beginning, no middle and terrifying ending that takes advantage of its medium well. Even at 78 minutes, there doesn’t seem to be anything that could have been added to reach a feature length running time, which says a lot about the limitations of this style, but also the dedication the filmmakers show to it.

News correspondent Angela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) and her unseen cameraman Pablo are escorted through a fire station on a segment for the TV show While You’re Sleeping. Embedded with rescue workers Alex (David Virt) and Manu (Ferran Terraza), a call comes in for a person trapped in an apartment. Entering the lobby, the rescuers confront bewildered tenants who report they heard an old woman screaming. Joining a veteran police officer (Vicente Gil) and his nervous young partner (Jorge-Yamam Serrano), they find the old woman semi-naked, bloody and disoriented. The older cop is attacked and bitten in the neck. Carrying the officer downstairs, the rescuers and tenants find that the building has apparently been sealed off by authorities and put under some type of quarantine.

Hell breaks loose. Alex plummets into the lobby with a bite mark on his cheek. A medical intern (Carlos Vicente) cares for the two victims. A hysterical mother (Maria Lanua) cares for a 4-year-old daughter suffering from tonsillitis. Authorities refuse to let anyone leave the building until a health inspector can check them for biological or nuclear contamination. Angela and Pablo continue to film as the two victims exhibit the same mindless aggression of the old woman and attack. The health inspector (Ben Temple) reveals that a dog treated by a veterinarian for these same symptoms was traced back to the building. The virus seems to spread through saliva. With more people being bit and transformed into freaked out killers, Angela and Pablo keep filming long enough to discover the truth behind what’s happening.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 30,079 users: 77% for [Rec]

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: Not available

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The Bechdel Test was named for Allison Bechdel, whose comic strip Dykes To Watch Out For in 1985 measured the female presence in movies by employing three criteria: Are there two or more women in it, with names? Do the women talk to each other? About something other than a man? Far too many mainstream movies flunk this test, but in the month of September, I take a look at ten movies that pass.

The Burning Plain (2008)
Directed by Guillermo Arriaga
Written by Guillermo Arriaga
Produced by Walter F. Parkes, Laurie MacDonald
107 minutes

Pouring on the melancholy and infinite sadness, The Burning Plain has major credibility problems as well as a title problem, but nearly erases both with a cast and a visual sheen that would be the envy of just about any first-time director. After writing Amores Perros, 21 Grams and Babel, screenwriter Guillermo Arriaga ended his collaboration with director Alejandro González Iñárritu after Iñárritu let it be known that Arriaga had taken too much credit for the success of those films. Arriaga submitted his script The Burning Plain to Walter F. Parkes & Laurie MacDonald, the husband-wife team who once presided over film production at DreamWorks Pictures. Proposing that he be the one sitting in the director’s chair this time, Arriaga won financing from Todd Wagner and Mark Cuban, whose 2929 Productions, in association with Costa Films, put up the budget.

Shot over eight weeks in Chihuahuan Desert of New Mexico and in Portland for a budget of under $20 million, The Burning Plain screened September 2008 at the Venice Film Festival. It opened in Italy weeks later and was available in the United States via On-Demand cable in August 2009. In a few years, this film might become known as the screen debut of Jennifer Lawrence, who broke out in Winter’s Bone and gives a haunted performance years beyond her age. The stoic Charlize Theron is equally possessed, while directors of photography Robert Elswit (There Will Be Blood) and John Toll (Vanilla Sky, who Elswit recommended shoot the Portland sequences) bend light and shadow with technique that is nothing short of majestic. When it comes to the script, Arriaga has squeezed all the juice out of these solemn, multi-arc, multi-lingual melodramas and leaves fruit pulp.

A trailer parked on a deserted plain is consumed by fire. Sylvia (Charlize Theron) manages a seafood restaurant perched along the Pacific Coast, where she marks time in an emotionless affair with a cook (John Corbett). Shuttled to work by a friend (Robin Tunney), Sylvia notices a stranger watching her. Back in the southwest, teenager Santiago (J.D. Pardo) inspects the remains of the trailer, where his father and mistress were burned alive. Santiago’s mother (Rachel Ticotin) sits out the funeral while the husband (Brett Cullen) of his late father’s mistress shows up to vent at the “wetbacks”. Santiago is much more interested in Mariana (Jennifer Lawrence), the teenage daughter in that family. Meanwhile, crop duster Santiago (Danny Pino), his 10-year-old daughter Maria (Tessa Ia) and partner Carlos (José María Yazpik) fly to a job.

Moving back in time, Nick (Joaquim de Almeida) reconnects with his mistress Gina (Kim Basinger). Sneaking away to a trailer Nick’s cousin has loaned them, Gina is still sensitive about her body following the loss of a breast to cancer. Back in what we believe to be the present, teenaged Santiago and Mariana overcome resistance by their families and get to know one another. Meanwhile, the crop duster suffers a crash. Moving back in time again, Mariana follows her mother to the trailer where she rendezvous with her lover. Recovering in the hospital, the crop duster dispatches Carlos to reunite Maria with her mother. In Portland, Carlos locates the woman, who has changed her name from Mariana to Sylvia and wants nothing to do with Maria. Moving back in time again, Mariana attempts to end her mother’s affair by setting fire to the trailer.

Rotten Tomatoes “Tomatometer” average among 6,129 users: 57% for The Burning Plain

Metacritic “Metascore” average among leading critics: 45 for The Burning Plain

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