3.5 stars. Rated PG, and needlessly, for animated action
By Derrick Bang
This film has a serious identity
crisis.
Although it begins as a gentle
character saga about a boy and his plus-size Personal Healthcare Companion —
read: big, poofy robot — co-directors Don Hall and Chris Williams rather
abruptly changes things up in the second act, and suddenly we’re watching a
frenetic action comedy that feels like an alternate-universe take on the Mighty
Morphin Power Rangers.
Frankly, it felt like whiplash.
Far more troublesome is this
film’s frequent echoes of The Incredibles
and How to Train Your Dragon:
derivative chunks at times so glaring, that they’re impossible to overlook. The
result feels less like an organic concept built from a carefully plotted
narrative, and more like a movie designed by committee, and determined to hit
crowd-pleasing notes ... a suspicion sharpened by the presence of eight (!)
credited scripters.
Indeed, the out-of-left-field
shift in tone is as clumsy as the mid-film transition that also spoiled the
second half of Pixar’s Brave. And
since John Lasseter has the executive producer’s credit on this newest Disney
release, the buck obviously stops at his desk.
On the positive side, Big Hero 6 certainly is entertaining,
and it’s laden with both laughs and moments of well-timed pathos. But the
storyline remains something of a mess, and ultimately feels like a very clumsy
attempt to build a new franchise.
The setting is a vibrant,
tech-laden future in the massive Northern California city of San Fransokyo:
very much a cheerful, gaily colored response to the polyglot Amero-Asian backdrop
of Blade Runner. Fourteen-year-old
Hiro Hamada (voiced by Ryan Potter, of the TV series Supah Ninjas) is a genius inventor but also something of a
tear-away, spending his evenings hustling opponents at illegal underground
robot duels.
These hijinks are a source of
constant frustration to older brother Tadashi (Daniel Henney) and their Aunt
Cass (Maya Rudolph), the latter charged with the two boys’ care after the
never-explained death of their parents. Hoping to channel Hiro’s energy in a
more positive direction, Tadashi introduces younger bro to his colleagues at
the prestigious San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, and particularly to its
head instructor: world-renowned roboticist Robert Callaghan (James Cromwell).
Callaghan, seeing great potential
in the boy, encourages Hiro to apply for admission. Our young hero, immediately
star-struck by these nifty-gee-whiz surroundings, needs no encouragement.
Back on the home front, Tadashi
also unveils another surprise: Baymax, the aforementioned Personal Healthcare
Companion, which has been tasked with looking after Hiro. Although resembling a
cross between a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon and Ghostbusters’ Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, Baymax is impressively
functional, with all sorts of scanning, diagnosis, treatment and protective
capabilities.
The humor from Baymax’s
introductory scenes, however, comes from the portly robot’s efforts to navigate
around furniture: deftly timed bits of silent comedy akin to the best moments
in Pixar classics. How very sad, then, that Hall and Williams completely
abandon such delightful subtlety once this story shifts into its high-intensity
mode.
Admission to Callaghan’s school
depends on the presentation of some brand-new type of tech, a challenge that
Hiro embraces with enthusiasm. He’s further encouraged by his older brother’s
lab mates: bubblegum-popping adrenalin junkie Gogo Tomago (Jamie Chung); big,
burly and unexpectedly meek neatnik Wasabi (Damon Wayans Jr.); sweet,
fashion-conscious chemistry whiz Honey Lemon (Genesis Rodriguez); and laid-back
fanboy “school mascot” Fred (T.J. Miller).
Hiro successfully concocts an
attention-grabbing invention, in the form of Tootsie Roll-size “microbots”
which, in massive number, can be guided — via wireless commands from a neural
headband — into creating ever-changing shapes limited only by the controller’s
imagination. Hiro wins both admission to the school, and the somewhat slimy
attention of corporate tech raider Alistair Krei (Alan Tudyk), who offers our
young protagonist buckets of money for this next-gen robot tech.
Hiro declines. Krei pouts and
exits, exchanging contemptuous glances with Callaghan: no love lost between
these two.
Then, suddenly, unexpected
tragedy: rather serious, given the film’s quiet tone to this point. Now, with
the appearance of a masked villain — Yokai — who has stolen Hiro’s microbots
and obviously has nefarious plans for them, can one small boy and his flimsy
inflatable robot persevere?
Well, sure ... once Hiro
“power-ups” everybody, Baymax included, with colorful costumes and weapons
derived from their various tech skills.
This superheroic transformation is
driven by the film’s namesake source material: a short-lived Marvel Comics
series of the same title that was spun off from a 1998 appearance in Alpha Flight, in turn a spin-off from
the early X-Men books. But the “lift”
is tenuous, to say the least; a few of the characters have the same or similar
names, but their various “origin stories” and battle skills are entirely
different.
More to the point, the fit is
quite awkward with the film’s storyline to this point: as clumsily unsuccessful
as Hiro’s repeated efforts to transform Baymax into an armored warrior ’bot.
Once the portly Baymax is outfitted with jet boots, we’re granted a
boy-on-his-robot flying sequence that swooshes across the Pacific in a manner
that looks precisely like the early
test flights involving Hiccup and Toothless, in How to Train Your Dragon.
In this film, the sequence also
is a story-halting waste of time.
We can’t help wishing for a
script that focused more on Baymax’s efforts to engage with Hiro, and also with
the environment at large. I’m thinking of another marvelous early sequence, as
the generously proportioned Baymax waddles through the streets of San Fransokyo
while trying to track down Hiro’s missing microbots: far more clever, and much
more amusing, than the nonstop, slam-bang free-for-all that erupts in the third
act.
Frankly, it feels as though the
Baymax/young ward storyline is the remnant of an entirely different project —
perhaps unfinished — with the weak Marvel Comics content stitched on top, like
some Frankenstein’s monster.
The voice talent is effective, if
neither striking nor memorable; you’re unlikely to recognize anybody aside from
Wayans and Rudolph, both well-known comic personalities. No surprise, then,
that their two characters get the best lines. Miller also establishes a strong
presence as the cheerful slacker, Fred, who proves to be not nearly as useless
as might be assumed.
And Scott Adsit does a nice job
with the childlike innocence of Baymax’s voice.
Henry Jackman, a rising Hollywood
composer best known for his two Kick-Ass
scores, delivers a rich orchestral soundtrack, sounding at times like a bubbly
blend of Danny Elfman and Michael Giacchino. It’s fun music, and Hall and Williams
blend it well with the droll chirps, squeaks, grunts and growls concocted by
sound effects editor Nia Hansen.
Production designer Paul A. Felix
has a blast blending San Francisco’s template with an overlay of Tokyo-style
architecture and oversized public works features; it would have been nice if
the script had addressed the story behind
this cultural fusion.
Editor Tim Mertens maintains a
lively pace, particularly during a frantic car/microbot chase and a visit to
the far side of an inter-dimensional jump gate; both of those sequences take
ample advantage of their 3D effects.
As has become tradition with
Disney’s animated features, the film is preceded by a short: Feast, a droll directorial debut by
animator Patrick Osborne, which traces a sloppy single guy’s life as seen
through the eyes of his devoted dog, Winston, and revealed — bite by bite — via
their shared meals. As with many recent Disney and Pixar shorts, the action unfolds
without dialogue; the narrative advances — and character moods are conveyed —
solely through expressions, body language and editing.
It’s a thoroughly charming piece
of work and, minute for minute, far more artistically successful than the
feature it accompanies.
No comments:
Post a Comment