To paraphrase a line from George Orwell’s Animal Farm, all Pixar films are excellent, but some are less excellent than others.
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| Having narrowly avoided being spotted by residents of the nearby coastal community, Alberto, left, and Luca contemplate the best way to resume their land-based human forms. |
Luca is similarly disappointing.
Director Enrico Casarosa and his three co-scripters try hard to blend two disparate plot elements, but they never align successfully. And while the story ultimately offers a welcome message on the subject of inclusiveness, that feels like an afterthought.
It’s also impossible to ignore the strong echo of The Little Mermaid, which adds an unsatisfying note of been there/done that.
The story, taking place in the late 1950s or early ’60s, opens in the ocean, not far from the small Italian seaside town of Portorosso. This underwater setting is home to its own community of “sea monsters,” notably a family unit comprising teenage Luca Paguro (voiced by Jacob Tremblay), his parents Daniela and Lorenzo (Maya Rudolph and Jim Gaffigan), and his elderly, gravel-voiced grandmother (Sandy Martin).
These “monsters” — despite their spines, sharp tails and webbing — are much too cute to be the slightest bit scary. The animation team based them vaguely on medieval illustrations from the Carta Marina — a Renaissance map dating back to 1539 — while granting them iridescence, gorgeous colors and oversized, animé-style eyes.
In a droll touch, Luca works as a “shepherd,” keeping watch over a school of small fish that bleat like sheep. As with actual sheep, some are prone to wander; Luca’s efforts to keep them in line are quite amusing.
We may think Luca and his family are adorable and obviously friendly, but Portorosso’s residents live in abject terror, as if these creatures have been destroying boats and eating small children for centuries. (This clearly isn’t the case, making such panic seem rather odd.)
One otherwise ordinary day, Luca spots some intriguing items on the sea bed: fascinating stuff clearly belonging to the nearby “overwater” people. These are the most recent treasures accumulated by Alberto (Jack Dylan Grazer), an orphan teen sea monster who has turned an old, abandoned Roman tower into a makeshift home.
Yep: on land … because when these creatures leave the water — which Luca’s parents have told him never, ever to do — they immediately transform into human beings. Similarly, when any portion of their anatomy gets wet, it reverts to sea monster form, until drying off. They’re the ultimate amphibians, able to exist on land and in the water, with a rad “cloaking ability” to boot.
Alberto persuades Luca to join him — cue a droll sequence, as the latter learns to walk on legs — and the two immediately bond, in a manner that evokes carefree, Tom Sawyer/Huckleberry Finn-style joie de vivre. Luca becomes particularly enchanted by a poster of a Vespa scooter hanging on one wall, because (we assume) it suggests escape, freedom and the promise of exploring this exciting, amazing, overwater world.
At this point, we lurch clumsily into the parallel plot, involving Giulia (Emma Berman), a precocious girl who spends summers in Portorosso with her father, Massimo (Marco Barricelli). She’s an outgoing charmer with a thirst for books and knowledge; she’s also determined to prove that she’s just as skilled and able as any boy.
This makes her the frequent target of town bully Ercole Visconti (Saverio Raimondo), a pompadoured blowhard always accompanied by worshipful toadies Ciccio and Guido (Peter Sohn and Lorenzo Crisci).
The insufferably smug and vain Ercole believes that everybody loves and admires him, and has long maintained a winning streak — by lying, after having aged out — in an annual village triathlon race/competition that involves swimming, bicycling and eating pasta. This infuriates Giulia, who’s determined to beat him this time, and now gains teammates in the form of new friends Luca and Alberto.
Casarosa and his writers have a lot of fun with this pair, as they desperately try to avoid rain, fountain splashes and any other application of moisture that would reveal their secret. But how can they hope to help Giulia win, when one leg involves swimming in the ocean?
On top of which, Luca’s very worried parents have entered Portorosso — apparently having no trouble with theirsudden physical transition — and are dousing every kid they encounter, hoping to reveal their son.
By this point, though, there’s a strong sense of stuff just being thrown into the mix, with insufficient attention to detail. Alberto’s troubled past is hinted at, but left maddeningly vague. Luca’s father isn’t well defined, and the boys’ obsession with Vespas feels random. The story also pauses several times for inconsequential, time-wasting dream/fantasy sequences.
An amusing “training session” for pasta-eating proves pointless, given how fleeting and anticlimactic this challenge is, during the actual competition. And who’s minding Luca’s flock?
The vocal talent is top-notch (always a Pixar strength). Raimondo, a famed Italian comedian, makes Ercole hilariously pompous: the perfect scoundrel. Barricelli’s low, gravely voice perfectly suits Massimo’s imposing appearance; Martin’s whiskey-soaked muttering similarly suits Grandma Paguro.
Tremblay’s Luca, shy and reflexively polite, is earnest and endearing; Grazer’s unbridled enthusiasm suits Alberto’s reckless behavior. Berman — a Sacramento resident, all of 12 years old when she voiced this character — makes Giulia irresistibly passionate and determined.
Editors Catherine Apple and Jason Hudak help Casarosa maintain a brisk pace, and Don Romer’s score is suitably energetic. The Italian setting has its own charm, as does the lyrical manner with which most characters converse.
The story’s focus on wanting/needing to “fit in,” and the need for tolerance, builds to a gratifying resolution … but the journey isn’t entirely satisfying.
That said, even “lesser” Pixar entries still are more pleasing than most other films.
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