3.5 stars. Rated PG, for thematic elements, fantasy peril and some suggestive material
By Derrick Bang
I never cease being delighted by
Stephen Sondheim’s wordcraft wizardry.
His music and lyrics are as
ferociously clever as anything concocted by Ira Gershwin or Cole Porter, and as
sharply sardonic as the best of mathematician-turned-satirical-tunesmith Tom
Lehrer.
Almost three decades have passed
since Sondheim and collaborator James Lapine unleashed Into the Woods, a frothy, thoroughly enchanting what-if musical
that takes an unexpectedly mature approach to several classic Grimm fairy
tales. Mostly, Sondheim and Lapine imagine what happened next, following the obligatory “happily ever after” fade-out that
concludes such stories.
Nothing good, as it turns out.
Broadway classics don’t always
transition well to the big screen, in great part because we lose the intimacy
that comes from being in a theater with the actors who can bring fire and
passion even to material this whimsical. No doubt many have contemplated this
particular challenge, since Into the
Woods debuted in 1987, but Rob Marshall eventually won the battle.
Certainly he seems a worthy
choice, having watched his cinematic adaptation of Chicago take six of its 13 Academy Award nominations, including
Best Picture.
His handling of Into the Woods is unlikely to garner
such stellar praise, but not for lack of quality; this simply isn’t as visually
dynamic a production, its delights limited chiefly to the way in which the cast
brings fresh brio to Sondheim’s lyrics and patter-songs. Production designer
Dennis Gassner spends a lot of time with various forest settings that look
rather similar; the scenery magic derives more from sfx supervisor Matt
Johnson’s various touches, most notably the giant beanstalk that sprouts next
to a certain home.
That said, there’s no denying the
spectacular splash with which this film opens, cross-cutting between the
various sets of characters within the intermingled saga to follow, their
desires explicated in the lengthy “Prologue,” the first of Sondheim’s many
ingenious songs. Marshall and editor Wyatt Smith have a field day with this
stylish production number, a bravura 10 minutes that sets a most impressive
stage.
The story is fueled by seemingly
reasonable but ultimately ill-advised wishes. In short order, we meet
Cinderella (Anna Kendrick), who wishes to attend the palace festival; Jack
(Daniel Huttlestone), a naïve but kind-hearted boy who wishes that his cow,
Milky White, didn’t have to be sold; and the Baker (James Corden) and his wife
(Emily Blunt), who wish they could become parents.
These primary characters are
orbited by Red Riding Hood (Lilla Crawford), embarking on one of her regular
visits to Grandma’s house; Rapunzel (Mackenzie Mauzy), trapped in her high
tower; and obvious villains such as Red’s pursuing Wolf (Johnny Depp) and
Cinderella’s haughty stepmother (Christine Baranski) and stepsisters, Florinda
(Tammy Blanchard) and Lucinda (Lucy Punch).
But the action is driven by the
surrounding woods’ fearsome witch (Meryl Streep), who blasts into the Baker’s
home with a show-stopping entrance that literally takes our breath away (not to
mention frightening the wits out of the Baker and his wife). Their inability to
start a family derives from a spell, the witch informs them: a curse that she’s
willing to lift if they bring her four items for a magic potion.
As specified in song, those items
are “a cow as white as milk, a cape as red as blood, hair as yellow as corn, and
a slipper as pure as gold.” Which we recognize will bring the Baker and his
wife into direct contact with the various other characters in this droll
roundelay.
The Sondheim/Lapine play is
divided into two quite distinct acts, and the first half of this film closely
follows that template: no surprise, since Lapine delivered the screenplay. On
the other hand, Lapine’s direct involvement becomes puzzling once we move into
Marshall’s far less satisfying handling of Act 2. This film departs from the
play in several key respects, and although matters conclude more or less the
same, getting there isn’t nearly as much fun.
I’ve often complained that many
musicals front-load their best material, and then suffer noticeably during far
weaker second acts. That’s very much a problem with this big-screen adaptation
of Into the Woods, in great part
because the saga begins to feel rushed and clumsy, the songs nowhere near as
vibrant or entertaining.
Granted, to a degree that’s an
intentional shift in tone that was very much Sondheim and Lapine’s original
design: Things get grim (or truly
Grimm) in the second half, and the action isn’t nearly as fun or frothy. But
that doesn’t excuse the way some characters get neglected, most noticeably
Rapunzel and her prince (Billy Magnussen). They just sorta vanish, as if
unexpectedly yanked offstage.
That’s a shame for all sorts of
reasons, not the least of which is the show-stopping duet between Magnussen and
Chris Pine, the latter popping up as the Prince who seeks the identity of the
young woman who left a certain slipper behind. The princes’ duet, “Agony,” is a
hilarious bit of one-upsmanship between these two characters, as each professes
the greater frustrations involved with their respective romances, complete with
chest-baring laments choreographed atop a woodland waterfall.
Pine, it must be mentioned, is as
deliciously dynamic here — in song, dance and romance-novel archetype — as he
was in the otherwise unremarkable Horrible Bosses 2.
Kendrick also handles herself
well, in music and performance, as the brow-beaten scullery maid given an
unexpected opportunity to trade up. She’s wan and wistful as needed, then
plucky and determined: definitely a heroine worthy of our admiration.
Crawford makes an appropriate
bratty Red Riding Hood, and the young actress also deserves credit for her deft
handling of Sondheim’s tongue-twisting lyrics. The same can be said of Corden,
making the most of a role that also showcases his singing chops (and finally might bring him some well-deserved
attention on these shores, since his charming 2013 British film, One Chance, continues to elude U.S.
release).
But nobody holds a candle to
Streep, who literally blows everybody else off the screen ... in part because
her character has a habit of making particularly explosive entrances and exits.
She snarls her way through several mock-sinister songs, chewing up the scenery
and taking no prisoners. Yet in an eyeblink the witch turns crafty and quiet,
Streep delighting us with marvelously subtle expressions and double-takes.
It’s a bravura performance in
every respect, and she owns this
film.
The same cannot be said of Blunt,
who never quite gets a handle on her reading of the Baker’s wife. We’re never
sure whether this character is truly sympathetic, and deserving of happiness,
or grasping to a degree not unlike Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters. On
top of which, Blunt lacks the vocal authority necessary for her role; she
doesn’t seem entirely comfortable while singing.
Depp is little more than stunt
casting, although he does make an appropriately wily Wolf. Additional stunt
casting comes from Tracy Ullman’s appearance as Jack’s mother — she really
doesn’t bring anything to the party — and Annette Crosbie’s similarly
under-scripted presence as Red’s grannie.
Harry Potter fans also might get
a chuckle out of Frances de la Tour’s appearance as the giant’s wife, given
that she portrayed the similarly huge Madame Maxime in that series.
This film’s many delightful
moments aside, the sum ultimately is less than its various parts. I also can’t
help feeling that far too many compromises were made — in terms of the original
play’s edge and decidedly adult tone — en route to securing the family-friendly
PG rating that Disney obviously demanded. These Woods are lamentably bowdlerized: a process clearly undertaken with
Sondheim and Lapine’s approval ... and more’s the pity.
Ah, well. The original play will
occupy stages forever, so we’ll have plenty of chances to see this “Once upon a
time” done properly.
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