A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting: Family-friendly fantasy

A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting (2020) • View trailer

Three stars. Not rated, and suitable for all ages

By Derrick Bang 

Noting Ivan Reitman’s name among the producers of this delightful little fantasy explains much, as there’s a strong Ghostbusters vibe here.

 

Actually, let’s call this Netflix original “Buffy Meets the Ghostbusters.” Lite.

 

As they penetrate ever farther into the Grand Guignol's lair, Kelly (Tamara Smart, left)
and Liz (Oona Laurence) find it increasingly difficult to protect young Jacob (Ian Ho)
from this evil manipulator of dreams.

Director Rachel Talalay has been busy with television work, helming installments of everything ranging from Riverdale and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, to Doctor Who and The Flash. Like Reitman, she has a solid handle on snarky, light-hearted fantasy, and she has just the right touch for this dip into Joe Ballarini’s children’s book trilogy.

 

Ballarini, also a director and screenwriter, handled the script himself. The result is a family-friendly romp with “scares” that are more fun than frightening.

 

Kelly Ferguson (Tamara Smart) is something of a nerdish introvert. On this particular evening, she wants to attend a raucous party in order to spend quality time near her secret crush. Alas, her mother lines her up with a babysitting assignment for the young son of Ms. Zellman (Tamsen McDonough, waspishly condescending), a high-society mover and shaker.

 

Jacob Zellman (Ian Ho) has trouble falling asleep. The poor kid is convinced that some of the toys in his room come to life at night, and he’s therefore reluctant to close his eyes, lest something dire occur.

 

That proves an understatement. Bad enough that Jacob gets stuffed into a satchel by a hideous little creature, and then dragged into a hole in the bedroom floor that quickly seals behind them. Kelly is further gobsmacked by the sudden appearance of the crisply resourceful Liz LeRue (Oona Laurence), who seems remarkably unruffled by these events.

 

Turns out Liz heads the local chapter of an international secret society of gifted babysitters who protect “special” children from monsters. This triggers a memory from Kelly’s own childhood, when — as a 4-year-old with a “gift of dreams” so vivid, that she could conjure and create real things from what she envisioned — she was rescued by a similarly adept babysitter.

 

Jacob has that same gift, which the vile Grand Guignol (Tom Felton) wishes to exploit, in order to unleash an army of nasty dream-critters on an unsuspecting world. He’s assisted by a trio of clumsy, squabbling, fire hydrant-size “Toadies” dubbed Snaggle, Roscoe and Jimmy, one of whom snatched the boy. (Imagine the Ghostbusters’ equally cranky Slimer, crossed with several Minions.)

 

The Beguiled: Not beguiling enough

The Beguiled (2017) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated R, and rather harshly, for fleeting sexuality
By Derrick Bang

As a setting, Southern Gothic is a character in its own right: drooping, moss-draped trees enclosing antebellum mansions, their white paint edged with gray and slightly peeling; a keening, high-pitched whine of insects driven into a constant frenzy by shimmering heat; the miasma of humidity so unrelenting that everything — flora, fauna and dwellings — sags beneath a soggy layer of warm moisture, and the mere act of drawing breath is a weary challenge.

Sensing that Edwina (Kirsten Dunst) is self-conscious about her appearance,
McBurney (Colin Farrell) lavishes praise about her features and deportment, knowing
full well that she'll melt under such flattery.

A sense that evil spirits prowl during a night so enveloping that stars and fireflies do little to keep the darkness at bay.

Director/scripter Sofia Coppola’s fresh adaptation of Thomas Cullinan’s The Beguiled certainly wins points for atmosphere. Cinematographer Philippe Le Sourd frames every inch of production designer Anne Ross’ tableaus — interior and exterior — with the reverence of a painter agonizing over each individual brush stroke.

The characters in this unsettling morality play also are well cast, with Nicole Kidman, Kirsten Dunst and Colin Farrell delivering a level of quiet intensity more frequently experienced with a live Broadway performance. Which also feels appropriate, given that the story’s claustrophobic setting could be realized equally well on a theater stage.

Coppola directs her cast with a sure hand, coaxing performances that fascinate just as much for their protracted silences, as for carefully selected snatches of dialog. Kidman, in particular, conveys a wealth of emotion during moments of circumspect silence.

If only Coppola’s script equaled the rest of her film’s carefully assembled elements.

The tale unfolds in 1864, midway through the Civil War, within the confines of the Farnsworth Seminary, a Southern girls’ boarding school nestled deep in the Virginia woods. The institution is run by Miss Martha (Kidman) and her colleague Edwina (Dunst); they share classroom instruction and the daily reading of prayers.

The student population has dwindled to five, all girls with nowhere else to go. Amy (Oona Laurence), Jane (Angourie Rice), Marie (Addison Riecke) and Emily (Emma Howard) are adolescent, vulnerable and trusting; teenage Alicia (Elle Fanning), hastening the onset of a womanhood she has no means of embracing, carries a whiff of temptress about her.

These seven have become a family, Miss Martha just as much a surrogate mother as a formal teacher. The dynamic, with its daily rituals, feels timeless; they may have sheltered in this vast mansion for mere months, or perhaps years. (The action actually takes place at the Louisiana-based Madewood Plantation House, also borrowed by Beyoncé for her “Sorry” music video.)

Pete's Dragon: A somewhat unsteady flight

Pete's Dragon (2016) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.12.16

All right; there’s such a thing as too much pathos.

Disney films have a merciless Dickensian history of parental mortality, usually as a means of first-act dramatic impact. The trend goes all the way back to 1942’s Bambi, and has remained a scripting constant ever since, reaching its horrific nadir with 1985’s Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend. (I still wince over how that one started.)

Having grown up in a remote forest, with only a massive green dragon for a friend,
Pete (Oakes Fegley) knows a life of nothing but fun. Alas, that's about to change, when
he and his huge furry buddy are "discovered" by people.

In some ways, this new Pete’s Dragon is even more brutal.

On the whole, director David Lowery has done a lovely job with this updated fairy tale, giving it a contemporary, top-to-bottom re-write with the assistance of co-scripter Toby Halbrooks. The fantasy elements are impressive, with the fuzzy green dragon — Elliot — not only brought to persuasive life, but also given a charming, shaggy dog personality: not an easy task, for a character that cannot speak.

Much of the film also takes place from a child’s-eye view of the world, which is a nice touch.

The storyline has a gentle environmental undertone that’s given additional heft by the presence of Robert Redford, both as co-star and occasional narrator. His distinctive voice is immediately familiar, with its warm and friendly cadence; at this point in his career, he has become everybody’s favorite uncle, while also radiating the graceful ecological integrity of icons such as John Ruskin, John Muir and Henry David Thoreau.

He’s perfect here.

On the other hand, this film’s tone is far different than its larkish 1977 predecessor. Poster art for this new Pete’s Dragon shows our young human hero — a sensitively nuanced Oakes Fegley — resting peacefully on Elliot’s huge tail, smiling up at his furry green friend. The implication is happy and cheerful, which is extremely misleading.

Because, before Pete can befriend a massive dragon that has remained (mostly) undiscovered in the deep woods of the Pacific Northwest, he must lose his parents. This takes place during a prologue that introduces Pete as barely more than a toddler, driving through the woods with his parents, and excited by the thought of a “family adventure.”

That anticipation is shattered one road accident later. Although Lowery deserves credit for handling this sequence with off-camera sensitivity, it’s no less heartbreaking ... and it also sets the mood for what follows. And while the subsequent narrative is by no means nonstop tragedy, it feels that way, in great part because of composer Daniel Hart’s unrelentingly gloomy orchestral score. Sad and maudlin themes undercut far too much of this film’s action.

(Just in passing, Lowery and Halbrooks also deserve to be spanked for the immediate peril that prompts the nearby Elliot to rescue little Pete: Wolves don’t attack people! A bear would have been a far better choice.)