3.5 stars. Rated G, and suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang
You have to love credits which promise that “No sheep were probed during the making of this film.”
Impish Shaun the Sheep has come quite far, since debuting as a supporting character in Wallace and Gromit’s Academy Award-winning 1995 short, A Close Shave. The rascally ruminant subsequently starred in 150 seven-minute claymation cartoons from 2007 through ’15, every one a masterpiece of stop-motion delight.
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| Shaun, right, watches hopefully as Lu-La attempt to start the flying saucer ... but, as a holographic display warns, nothing will happen without an essential key-type gizmo, which was lost shortly after landing. |
The hilarious visuals notwithstanding, much of Shaun’s international appeal derives from the pantomime approach that eschews language. This isn’t exactly a silent world — Shaun’s escapades are backed by plenty of bleats, baas and other boisterous bellows, along with all manner of droll sound effects — but no character “talks” in anything approaching conventional language.
Even human co-stars merely mumble, mutter or murmur in something that never quite manifests as recognizable words or phrases.
This sets Shaun and his friends apart from Wallace and Gromit, who exist in a world of familiar verbal communication. (Well, except for Gromit the dog, who “talks” via heavenward glances, long-suffering sighs and shrugged shoulders.)
Shaun’s alternate approach isn’t terribly difficult to manage in a cartoon short; the challenge arises when the woolly scamp winds up in an 86-minute feature film. That’s where the talents of Aardman’s writers and animators are truly put to the test. They passed, with flying colors, in 2015’s Shaun the Sheep Movie; if this second big-screen outing isn’t quite as fresh — and perhaps not as emotionally touching — it’s no less clever or amusing.
Rest assured, directors Will Becher and Richard Phelan — and writers Jon Brown, Mark Burton and Nick Park — give us plenty to chuckle over.
Farmageddon shamelessly (and affectionately) riffs all manner of classic science-fiction franchises: from E.T. and Close Encounters, to The X-Files and Doctor Who, with similar nods to WALL-E, 2001: A Space Odyssey and even the factory scene from 1936’s Charlie Chaplin classic, Modern Times. The references aren’t limited to sight gags; composer Tom Howe’s vivacious score similarly channels everything from John Williams-esque themes to Richard Strauss’ “Also sprach Zarathustra” (heard during the tight close-up of a monolithic piece of bread emerging from a toaster).
We know we’re in good hands from the very beginning, when the Aardman Animation logo is introduced — with considerable pizzazz — by one of Shaun’s barnyard flock.
By way of quick recap, Shaun and the rest of his woolly comrades enjoy an idyllic life at Mossy Bottom Farm. Their tendency toward mischief is a constant source of frustration for the long-suffering, whistle-blowing sheepdog Bitzer, who has Ghostbusters-style warning signs to discourage all manner of bad behavior. Sadly, he’s rarely successful at such authoritarian control, although he — and Shaun — usually manage to keep the hijinks below the notice of the impressively clueless farmer who runs the place.
The endless sight gags often are at Bitzer’s expense, and yet he rarely catches the sheep in the act; most often when he glances their way, they’re engaged in wholly innocent activities … like knitting and playing chess.
Most of the other sheep remain anonymous, with a few notable exceptions: the massively overweight Shirley, in whose fleece all manner of things can become lost; Shaun’s cousin Timmy, the baby of the flock; and Timmy’s mother (recognized by the curlers atop her head).
As Farmageddon begins, a local resident and his faithful dog have a close encounter of the most unusual kind; in no time at all, the community of Mossingham is abuzz with UFO fever. Their agitation is justified; a flying saucer has indeed touched down, bearing a rather unusual visitor. Shaun encounters this sparkly, purple-blue extra-terrestrial when it takes shelter in the Mossy Bottom barn.
All concerned eventually learn that this creature’s name is Lu-La, and that its unusual powers include telekinesis and the ability to share memories via physical contact with its “hands.” The little creature is clearly agitated, but Shaun can’t discern meaning behind nonsense phrases such as too-pah, oh-boo and mi-ma … although zoom-zoom proves easy to comprehend.
The quest is obvious: Lu-La needs to get back to wherever s/he came from, and Shaun — and the rest of the sheep — are eager to help.
(Lu-La’s name, by the way, is a nod to the 50th anniversary of the Lunar landing.)
Alas, the saucer’s arrival has attracted the attention of the dastardly, slope-browed Agent Red and her assortment of hazmat-suited goons, headquartered at the Ministry of Alien Detection (MAD, of course). They immediately descend upon Mossingham Forest, where the goons — not being able to see terribly well, through their visors — constantly bump into things.
They’re matched, in slapstick ineptness, by Agent Red’s faithful robot assistant, Muggins, which looks like a cross between a photocopier, a filing cabinet and a security camera. And is good for plenty of laughs.
Meanwhile, the Farmer — sensing money to be made by fleecing credulous flying saucer nuts — orders Bitzer to transform their barnyard into a UFO-flavored theme park dubbed (you guessed it) Farmageddon. The goal: to raise enough cash to purchase a ginormous Wheatchopper 5000 harvester.
This is more than enough mayhem to keep us entertained, particularly when it becomes obvious that this script has cheekily borrowed a plot note from 1985’s Explorers (or the classic Star Trek episode “Squire of Gothos,” if your memory stretches back that far).
Becher, Phelan and editor Sim Evan-Jones maintain a frantic pace, which makes it difficult to catch — and enjoy — many of the subtler sight gags. (My favorite: The Mossy Bottom Farm rooster’s morning coffee cup, with its changing messages.)
Not everything works. Shaun and Lu-La’s detour into a supermarket — and its candy section — definitely overstays its welcome. Worse yet, Howe’s lively score is too frequently interrupted by superfluous montages backed by ill-fitting pop songs (“Everything Is Better,” by Kieran & Heather Shudall; and “Lazy,” by Kylie Minogue & The Vaccines, among others).
And I definitely could have lived without the ghastly, techno “Farmageddon Remix” of Shaun’s familiar theme (“Life’s a Treat”), which plays behind the lengthy end credits. Do hang on — perhaps wondering about the responsibilities assumed by “Mechatronics Engineers” and “Puppet Wranglers” — in order to reach the bonus epilog.
Farmageddon debuted in the UK in October, and initially we were promised similar Stateside theatrical release. But the holiday season came and went, with no sign of Shaun. The reason became apparent a few weeks later, with the announcement that Aardman Animation had staked a new home beneath the Netflix umbrella.
As a result, Farmageddon — along with all upcoming Aardman projects — will be available only via that streaming service. Which is a shame, because I fear the studio’s efforts won’t get nearly the publicity push that would have been mounted for theatrical release.
Shaun, Bitzer, the other sheep — and, in this case, Lu-La — deserve better.
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