Aladdin: Lost its luster

Aladdin (2019) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.24.19

Too many Hollywood types ignore the universal maxim:

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

When arrogant soldiers thunder through the marketplace on horseback, Aladdin
(Mena Massoud) acts quickly enough to prevent two children from being trampled
beneath the hooves.

1992’s Aladdin was just right as a 90-minute animated fantasy. This “enhanced” live-action remake, at 128 minutes, is a textbook case of bloated overkill.

Disney obviously didn’t learn from the identical mistake made with 2017’s live-action Beauty and the Beast, similarly overblown at 129 minutes (as opposed to the 1991 animated version’s 84 minutes). More is not better, most particularly when the original’s sublime musical component gets saddled with new songs that aren’t merely inferior, but are noticeably out of synch with the rest.

Scripter/director Guy Ritchie — who shares writing chores with John August — has completely altered this fable’s heart and moral. Instead of a cautionary tale on the importance of recognizing that grandiose wishes are a hollow illusion, this Aladdin has been transformed, and quite clumsily, into a female empowerment saga.

This new subtext doesn’t integrate well with the existing storyline; indeed, it’s clearly a contrived sop to the #MeToo movement, complete with a (new) power ballad that Princess Jasmine (Naomi Scott) belts out at a climactic moment. But here’s the irony: Immediately after she sings that song, Aladdin is the one who saves the day.

And why shouldn’t he? Disney animated films are laden with powerful female characters: Ariel, Belle, Pocahontas, Mulan, Merida, Tiana, Rapunzel, Lilo, Moana and — needless to say — Anna and Elsa. Is there anything wrong with leaving Aladdin a guy story?

It’s also blatantly obvious that Jasmine’s aforementioned mantra — “Speechless” — was crafted to sound as much as possible like “Let It Go,” the Academy Award-winning anthem from Frozen. That “coincidence” aside, this new tune doesn’t belong with the others.

The original film’s Alan Menken/Howard Ashman/Tim Rice songs boast the witty lyrics and clever melodic counterpoint of masterful musical theater numbers. And while Menken still wrote the music for “Speechless,” the lyrics — by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul — are unimaginative and redundant. It’s not a song; it’s a diatribe.

Sigh.

In fairness, this new Aladdin has its moments. Scott and Mena Massoud (Aladdin) are quite sweet together, particularly as they slowly fall in love while — not very successfully — pretending to be other people. Their shared delivery of “A Whole New World,” while riding a magic carpet in the night skies above Agrabah, is totally charming. 

Massoud has sublime athletic grace, which does much to sell the pell-mell patter song “One Jump Ahead,” as Aladdin runs, leaps, falls and slides away from pursuing city guards. Scott is persuasively earnest as an empathetic young woman who chafes at traditional roles, and wishes to use her title to better serve the people of Agrabah.

The core story remains irresistible. Aladdin, a resourceful street rat and petty thief, dreams of a better life; Princess Jasmine, longing to experience the world beyond the protective palace walls, can’t abide the endless stream of dandified princes desiring her hand in marriage. When the scheming Jafar’s attempt to obtain the fabled magic lamp instead places it — and its resident Genie — in Aladdin’s hands, the young man tries to woo Jasmine “properly,” in the guise of the fabulously wealthy and accomplished “Prince Ali.”

The resulting lesson comes hard: to thine own self be true.

Will Smith manages the far from trivial challenge of making the role of the Genie his own, despite our fond memories of Robin Williams’ sublime vocal performance in the original. Smith has his own unique comedic shtick, and he’s blessed with similarly impeccable timing; with a superlative assist from visual effects supervisor Chas Jarrett, this genie is every bit as imaginatively manic, uncontrollably enthusiastic and — when necessary — calmly wise.

And, given that the Genie also has a very human form in this version, it’s fun to see him get similarly tongue-tied over Jasmine’s handmaiden, Dalia (Nasim Pedrad) … and she with him.

Aladdin’s resourceful pet monkey, Abu, also has a greatly expanded role here; the same is true of the remarkably sentient magic carpet. Both are endearing and frequently funny characters with plenty of personality: no small feat, in the case of the carpet.

Production designer Gemma Jackson turns the royal palace and Agrabah’s streets — particularly the marketplace — into a rich, colorful tableau matched only by costume designer Michael Wilkinson’s vividly opulent fabrics, textures, floral motifs, beads and embroidery. The film’s look is breathtaking.

Choreographer Jamal Sims turns the larger production numbers — particularly “Prince Ali,” which heralds the transformed Aladdin’s “arrival” in Agrabah — into lavish spectaculars. (That said, the sound mix on that number — and also during “One Jump Ahead” — is off; the ambient noise and instrumental accompaniment too frequently obscure the lyrics.)

On the other hand…

Marwan Kenzari is impressively ineffective as the villainous Jafar, the “loyal and trusted” advisor to Jasmine’s father (Navid Negahban), sultan of Agrabah. Kenzari doesn’t radiate even an ounce of evil until the very end, when Jafar becomes terrifying only via considerable malevolent enhancement from Jarrett’s sfx team. Until then, Kenzari’s feeble efforts at bad behavior look and sound like a whiny 5-year-old who’s about to throw a temper tantrum.

(Oh, how I miss Alan Rickman’s sneer, and Christoph Waltz’s aristocratic aura of barely restrained fury.)

And although Abu is a hoot, Jafar’s wisecracking parrot, Iago, gets old quickly. The bird’s snarky asides become tiresome, particularly since so many of them function as unnecessary saidbookism, repeating and reminding us of things that are obvious.

In the final analysis, Ritchie is a very odd choice for this material. He’s best known for snarky, violent crime thrillers (Snatch; Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) and cheeky, alternate-universe revisions of Sherlock Holmes and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I can’t imagine how he got this assignment, and he clearly has no feeling for the rhythm and flow of a fantasy musical.

As also was the case with the live-action Beauty and the Beast, I wish [he says, rubbing the lamp] that Disney had left well enough alone.