Three stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang
It’s difficult to view this film as anything but a cynical cash grab.
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| Cruelly tricked into believing that he has committed an unspeakable act, the forlorn lion cub Simba's spirits are lifted when he unexpectedly befriends a warthog (Pumbaa) and a meerkat (Timon). |
Disney has been cannibalizing its legacy of late, and the results are increasingly deplorable. Bad enough that we had to endure (mostly) live-action remakes of Dumbo and Aladdin earlier this year; at least they’re populated mostly by human characters who could be given fresh interpretations by flesh-and-blood actors (as will be the case with a live-action Mulan, arriving next year).
But The Lion King is different: nothing more than “trading up” an entirely non-human cast from (more or less) traditional animation to CGI. To what end? Animation is animation. The opulent, Tony Award-winning Broadway production was highlighted by Julie Taymor’s costume design and inventive direction, Richard Hudson’s scenic design, and Garth Fagan’s choreography … none of which translates to this animated retread.
And, as was the case with Aladdin, this Lion King has been expanded from the 1994 original’s just-right 88 minutes, to a bloated and often insufferable 118 minutes. That additional half-hour adds nothing to the story, aside from granting director Jon Favreau more space for portentously long takes apparently intended to amplify the drama.
In fact, such lengthy pauses make the film seem like more of a drag.
In fairness, the animation is stunning: a collaborative effort by visual effects supervisor Rob Legato, animation supervisor Andrew R. Jones, and MPC Film VFX supervisors Adam Valdez and Elliot Newman. It’s not merely a pride of lions looking and moving in a lifelike manner; this story has a massive cast of four-legged and winged characters, not to mention sidebar insects, reptiles and all manner of other critters.
The verisimilitude is breathtaking … and that’s part of the problem. Because it frankly looks weird when these creatures break into song. The talking is disorienting enough, but at least that’s subtle; watching the mouths of a lifelike lion, warthog and meerkat wrap their lips around the lyrics of “Hakuna Matata” utterly destroys the illusion.
It certainly isn’t the cast’s fault. As with its predecessor, this Lion King is blessed with solid vocal talent, starting with James Earl Jones’ regal handling of Mufasa, young Simba’s father (reprising his performance in the original); Alfre Woodard and Beyoncé’s feisty portrayals of (respectively) Sarabi and Nala; and Chiwetel Ejiofor’s slyly sinister Scar.
Seth Rogen and Billy Eichner make a great Abbott & Costello team as Pumbaa and Timon, the aforementioned warthog and meerkat; and John Oliver is a hoot as Zazu, Mufasa’s loyal hornbill assistant and bearer of good (and bad) news.
It’s also true that these lifelike characters greatly enhance the Shakespearean elements of Jeff Nathanson’s screenplay; the echoes of Hamlet resonate much more strongly.
On the other hand, the story’s tone and balance are more clumsy. Watching the emotionally shattered young Simba find peace in the original film’s second act, happily befriending Pumbaa and Timon, was something we simply rolled with. His identical behavior in this version, however, makes him look self-centered and heartless.
Probably not what Nathanson intended.
The story opens with the most powerful of the Elton John/Tim Rice songs, the stirring “Circle of Life,” as Mufasa and Sarabi allow the elder baboon Rafiki (John Kani) to introduce their new cub, Simba (JD McCrary), to the African realm they rule. Mufasa is an environmentally savvy king, careful to maintain an all-important balance of nature. (The obvious need for lions to indulge their carnivorous instincts is left unspoken and unseen.)
This benevolent attitude rankles Mufasa’s ill-tempered and covetous brother Scar, who has long felt he deserves the throne. Scar views Mufasa’s protective parental instinct as a weakness to be exploited, with assistance from the vicious hyena tribe ruled by the loathsome Shenzi (Florence Kasumba), eager to terminate their banishment to the land’s outer fringes.
Scar’s Machiavellian scheme succeeds brilliantly, although not completely; everybody believes Simba has died, but in fact he flees to a more verdant, forest-type region. This is where he befriends Pumbaa and Timon, and allows himself to subsist entirely on grubs and insects. Scar and Shenzi, meanwhile, terrorize and wreak havoc over the realm Mufasa had shepherded so wisely and carefully.
Favreau and Nathanson don’t hammer this environmental message; it resonates at just the right level. Favreau also doesn’t linger on the story’s most tragic moment, which — again, because these animals seem so real (when they aren’t singing) — packs a much stronger wallop than the original film’s identical scene.
Favreau undoubtedly got this assignment because he helmed 2016’s (somewhat) live-action remake of The Jungle Book, which earned a staggering $364 million in the States alone. And, granted, he has a facility for well-timed lighter moments, along with amusing critter double-takes; he and the animators anthropomorphize these characters to an impressive degree. I wish his touch could have been similarly fine-tuned during the weightier dramatic moments.
The hyenas’ collective malevolence is offset by two of them — Azizi (Eric André) and Kamari (Keegan-Michael Key) — who also function as a light comedy duo, constantly getting in each other’s way, and stepping on each other’s lines.
The song score is essentially identical, including the hilarious cover of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight,” performed with larkish enthusiasm by Rogen and Eichner. But Hans Zimmer’s orchestral underscore is less satisfying, particularly since it includes so many echoes of “Under the Sea,” from The Little Mermaid. On top of which, Pumbaa and Timon also supply a superfluous nod to “Be Our Guest,” from Beauty and the Beast.
Although neither is as egregious as the insufferable nod to Disneyland that dominates the third act of the recent Dumbo remake, these are yet additional examples of a self-referential trend that the Disney producers apparently believe is “cute.”
It isn’t. Frankly, it’s annoying.
As we come full circle in the final scene, with “Circle of Life” once again swelling in the background — made more thunderously majestic by a massive chorus — I simply couldn’t shake the essential question: Why was this film made? Does it accomplish anything its predecessor lacked?
Definitely not. Indeed, quite the contrary.
No doubt it’ll be popular with parents who don’t wish their children exposed to the R-rated excesses of this summer’s Stuber, Annabelle Comes Home or The Kitchen. But that isn’t saying much.
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