Four stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.27.19
Well, this is quite the charmer.
Writer/director Jill Culton — aided by co-director Todd Wilderman — has delivered a gentle, heartfelt fantasy that sends its young heroine on a journey that enables her to find her best true self, while undertaking a rather unusual mission of mercy. The title character of Abominable isn’t your garden-variety yeti — if there is such a thing — but a creature of extraordinary talents, who is at one with nature in unusual ways.
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| Believing that they've finally escaped their pursuers, Yi and her friends — from left, Peng, "Everest" and Jin — are dismayed to discover that things remain quite dire. |
A mildly creepy prologue introduces the white-furred critter as an unwilling captive at a massive, secret scientific complex replete with scary medical bays, long corridors and nasty doors that slam shut from above. Even before the yeti is shown — the first few panicked minutes take place from its point of view — we empathize with this Whatzit, given that it’s held captive in such a frightening environment.
And once it’s revealed, during a pell-mell escape that sends the terrified creature into the chaos and cacophony of a major metropolis, our hearts and minds are wholly won over. Nobody could resist such a cuddly beast, with its massive blue eyes, and mouth forever stretched into the semblance of a wide smile … even if it is the size of a large truck.
Elsewhere, we meet teenage Yi (voiced by Chloe Bennet), a feisty, high-spirited dreamer who never seems to spend time with her mother (Michelle Wong) and grandmother Nai Nai (Tsai Chin), much to their lamentation. But they allow this semi-detachment, recognizing that Yi still hasn’t recovered from the recent death of her beloved father, a concert violinist whose instrument is her most prized possession.
Yi has spent the summer working all manner of odd jobs, in an effort to raise enough money to solo on the lengthy vacation trip that she and her father had long planned. This has made her a joke to all her self-absorbed, social media-crazed peers, including 18-year-old downstairs neighbor Jin (Tenzing Norgay Trainor), a narcissistic cynic who can’t pass a mirror without verifying that he’s still the hunkiest guy in town.
Jin’s 9-year-old cousin, Peng (Albert Tsai), is more sympathetic to Yi’s moods, but he’s an unbridled “total kid” who bounces off the walls, and constantly tries to get his older friends to play basketball.
Yi soon stumbles across the yeti’s hiding place, on her apartment roof. Mutual fear gives way to wary friendship, particularly when Yi realizes — thanks to a nearby billboard extolling Mount Everest, which the yeti can’t stop staring at — that the frightened creature simply wants to return home. She dutifully dubs it “Everest.”
Meanwhile…
The aforementioned science facility is owned by the elderly and immensely wealthy Burnish (Eddie Izzard), a former explorer who — decades earlier — stumbled upon a yeti while climbing the Himalayas … but of course nobody believed him. He therefore spent his entire adult life determined to catch one, and succeeded, with the help of refined British zoologist Dr. Zara (Sarah Paulson).
But now that “their” yeti has escaped, Burnish is furious; he’s also powerful enough to mobilize a massive mercenary force to retrieve the creature. It’s all Dr. Zara can do to pacify her boss, and protect Everest — and all of their other captured rare creatures — from his darker impulses.
Those “other creatures” include a cage full of whooping snakes: a laugh-out-loud sight gag that Culton subsequently mines for maximum mirth, as the story proceeds.
Yi bravely decides to help Everest get home, no matter what the odds … and despite having no clue how to travel so far from her metropolitan home. Peng eagerly insists on tagging along, which prompts Jin to hasten after them, insisting that they should stop … this … nonsense … right … now.
That actually seems like sensible advice, because Burnish and his minions aren’t far behind. But Yi, finally caring about something that has nothing to do with her personal loss, is resolute.
Culton and editor Susan Fitzer move their story along at a brisk clip, ensuring that this 97-minute adventure remains engaging throughout; that said, it’s not all action and chases. Culton devotes significant time to the developing character dynamics: the intriguing, instantaneous bond between Everest and Peng; and the softening of Jin, who gradually realizes that real life is much more interesting than fretting over not getting enough bars on his Smart phone.
We also grieve over the fractured dynamic that finds Yi pulling away from her mother and grandmother; the family unit feels authentic, particularly with respect to Nai Nai’s fussy nattering. (It’s hard to watch her make so many pork dumplings, however, without thinking about Pixar’s Oscar-winning short, Bao.)
Culton began her career as a Pixar storyboard artist, animator and writer on their earliest hits; she then shifted to Sony Pictures Animation, and helmed that studio’s first animated feature — 2006’s Open Season — thus becoming the first female principal director of a computer-animated feature film. She moved to DreamWorks Animation in 2010, and has spent the intervening years shepherding Abominable through behind-the-scenes corporate maneuvering.
Her finished film is a co-production by DreamWorks Animation and the recently christened Pearl Studio (offspring of China Media Capital’s takeover of the now defunct Oriental DreamWorks).
The story therefore is set wholly in China, beginning with Yi’s massive urban metropolis and then journeying outward. But all the characters speak English, and their mouth movements correspond to this language. (One assumes a Chinese language version is dubbed, which is an intriguing twist.)
The animation style is visibly different from the Pixar, Blue Sky and Sony approaches. The human characters have the slightly oversized heads and widely rounded eyes that characterize Japanese animé, but the effect here is “softer”; the children and adults appear slightly felt-like, their movements nonetheless “human.” Burnish and Dr. Zara are more stylized; he’s a squat, petulant little toad of a man, while she’s taller and more angled.
Everybody’s clothing also is a visual treat, particularly the seemingly random — but quite stylish — assortment of items that make up Yi’s outfit. (Gotta love everybody’s shoes, as well.)
Rupert Gregson-Williams’ stirring orchestral underscore is augmented by a few pop tunes, such as Danger Twins’ “Girl’s Gotta” and Coldplay’s “Fix You.” I’d argue that the third act is interrupted by one gratuitous song sequence too many, but that’s picking nits. There’s no question that this film effectively manipulates our emotions; one of Yi’s impromptu violin performances is deeply, deeply moving.
Culton doesn’t make a big deal out of her story’s emphasis on girl power, and it’s nice to see that Jin (the boy) is the character who needs to develop a more sensible attitude.
A gentle environmental undertone is the icing on the cake.
Culton is a solid storyteller, and there’s much to admire here.
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