Moana 2: More fantasy ocean action

Moana 2 (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for fantasy peril

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.1.24

Although some sequels feel like little more than cash-grabs — and Disney, of late, has been particularly guilty of this — 2016’s Moana definitely deserved a second chapter.

In an effort to help get the grumpuy Kele into the spirit of things, Moana (far left), Moni
and Loto do their best to turn his frown upside-down, during a lively song (which is
only partially successful).

The resourceful and strong-willed 16-year-old, who earned her stripes as a “Wayfinder” in her debut outing, has blossomed into a mature young woman who has embraced her role as spiritual guide of her Polynesian island community of Motunui. By seeking her calling, in the first film, she also discovered her people’s long-ago tradition as voyagers of Oceania’s vast expanse.

Moana’s bold, sea-faring nature is re-introduced here via composers Opetaia Foa’I and Mark Mancina’s up-tempo tune “We’re Back” — a lively, Broadway musical-style anthem very much in the mold of “Belle,” from 1991’s Beauty and the Beast — which also showcases this story’s new and returning key players.

 

As this second chapter begins, Moana (again voiced with robust intelligence and spirit by Auli’I Cravalho) once again is visited by the spirit of her beloved Gramma Tala (Rachel House), who warns that a long-ago curse has isolated Motunui from numerous other Polynesian communities ... and that, thus divided, all will perish.

 

The only way to break the curse is to travel distant seas to the sunken island of Motufetü, which is guarded by Nalo, the god of storms.

 

This time, Moana has the full support of her parents: Chief Tui (Temuera Morrison) and Sina (Nicole Scherzinger). Alas, 3-year-old toddler sister Simea (Khaleesi Lambert-Tsuda) is quite upset, fearful that her beloved “big sis” might never return. Simea is the spitting image of toddler Moana from the first film’s introduction, and an adorable addition to this expanding cast.

 

A journey of this magnitude will require a larger canoe, and an able crew: Loto (Rose Matafeo), a genius problem-solver and proto-engineer whose chaotic enthusiasm often overwhelms her common sense; Moni (Hualalai Chung), the community’s designated story keeper, who whips out drawings in nothing flat; and the grumpy Kele (David Fane), an elderly gardener who will tend the “canoe plants” that wayfinders need, to survive long journeys.

 

All three are well-conceived characters, granted considerable personality by the voice actors.

The Portable Door: Unevenly framed

The Portable Door (2023) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Not rated, and suitable for all ages

Available via: Amazon Prime

By Derrick Bang

First impressions can be crucial, and this film’s first act is needlessly messy.

 

Director Jeffrey Walker’s initially frantic, quasi-slapstick tone is matched by performances that are all over the place; one gets a sense that everybody involved is desperate to prove that This Movie Will Be Fun.

 

Paul (Patrick Carpenter) and Sophie (Sophie Wilde) realize they're in a lot of trouble,
after being dumped into a huge, door-laden sub-level of J.W. Welles & Co.

The resulting impression instead veers toward exasperation, and viewers are likely to give up after about 20 minutes. That would be a shame, because — once Walker and his cast settle down — this larkish fantasy becomes much more palatable.

Leon Ford’s screenplay is adapted from British author Tom Holt’s 2003 novel of the same title, first in what has become his eight-book (and counting) “J.W. Wells & Co.” series, referencing the venerable London firm where mysterious doings take place.

 

Our entry point, as this film begins, is Paul Carpenter (Patrick Gibson), a hapless failure-to-launch who is light-years away from getting his life together. Reduced to seeking employment at a local café, his attempt to do so is interrupted by a string of coincidences: His alarm doesn’t go off, his trousers have a stain, his shoelace breaks — twice — and his toaster blows up. 

 

When Paul finally reaches the queue of would-be baristas hoping for the same job, he’s distracted by an enthusiastic “Great to see you again!” from a jovial fellow who claims to have been one of his university professors — but whom Paul doesn’t recognize —and then by a scruffy little dog that steals his scarf.

 

Paul’s attempt to retrieve the scarf terminates in an alley — the dog having vanished — just outside a partially open door marked “Applicants.” This turns out to be a side entrance to J.W. Wells & Co., where Paul finds himself on a couch alongside the well-appointed and rudely stuffy Sophie Pettingel (Sophie Wilde), one of apparently several individuals angling for an intern’s slot.

 

To Paul’s surprise, he’s summoned next — by name — by middle manager Dennis Tanner (Sam Neill), for an odd interview led by CEO Humphrey Wells (Christoph Waltz). Additional board members Nienke Van Spee (Rachel House), Countess Judy (Miranda Otto) and Casimir Suslowicz (Chris Pang) observe silently. Everybody looks sadly amused by this obviously under-talented applicant, until Paul mentions the series of odd coincidences that led to his presence.

 

And, just like that, Paul is hired, to begin immediately … despite his lack of worthwhile skills. He soon learns that J.W. Wells is a wonderland of weird: Van Spee’s hair has a life of its own; receptionist Rosie Tanner (Jessica De Gouw) seems unusually fond of a stapler; and a baby dragon can be spotted at odd moments.

Penguin Bloom: Truly soars

Penguin Bloom (2020) • View trailer

3.5 stars. Rated TV-14, for dramatic intensity

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.19.21  

Never underestimate the healing power — or sensitivity — of an attentive animal.

 

Even an unlikely one.

 

Sam (Naomi Watts) cannot reconcile her current condition with the robust, physically
active woman she used to be: a past lovingly documented by dozens of photos
taken by her husband.

During a 2013 family holiday in Thailand, Sam Bloom leaned against a second-story balcony railing; the rotten wood shattered, and she fell to the concrete patio below. Although lucky to survive, the damage to her spinal cord left her paralyzed from the chest down.

 

Perhaps worse, the accident also crushed her spirit. As time passed, the previously active career nurse, and happily married mother of three rambunctious young boys — raising this family on Sydney’s Northern beaches, where she ran, swam, biked and surfed every chance she got — spiraled ever downward into a miasma of despair.

 

And then … a miracle.

 

Australian director Glendyn Ivin’s Penguin Bloom, based on the popular 2016 memoir co-written by Sam’s husband Cameron and Bradley Trevor Greive, is a charming adaptation of the unlikely incident that turned Sam’s life around. Shaun Grant and Harry Cripps’ script is quite faithful to actual events … as should be expected, given that Sam and Cameron “Cam” Bloom are co-executive producers.

 

But — and this is important — their involvement has not buried this film beneath an insufferably noble or sugar-coated patina. Ivin unerringly maintains a careful balance, blending heartbreaking anguish — a family in serious danger of unraveling at the seams — with, unexpectedly, hope and gentle humor. The film gets its power from two cast members: Naomi Watts, as the beleaguered Sam; and newcomer Griffin Murray-Johnston, making an impressive acting debut as eldest son Noah.

 

The story is told from their point of view, either individually, or as part of the shared family dynamic; as a result, Watts and/or Murray-Johnston are in pretty much every scene.

 

They easily hold our attention.

 

As does the third crucial cast member. Who has wings.

 

Ivin begins his film with Sam at low ebb, and sinking lower; details of her accident emerge later, via Noah’s tormented voice-over. He can’t understand why his mother has withdrawn into herself; she can’t understand why everybody else doesn’t acknowledge that she has become worse than a burden, but an entirely useless human being.

 

Soul: It has serious chops!

Soul (2020) • View trailer

Five stars. Rated PG, for mild thematic elements

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.31.20

This isn’t the first time I’ve observed that some of the sharpest, wittiest and most perceptive scripts belong to animated films.

 

An impressive percentage of them come from Pixar.

 

Joe Gardner's soul, right, tirelessly tries to find something that might inspire the cynical,
world-weary — and yet oddly childlike — Soul 22.

Pete Docter has been one of Hollywood’s most innovative writer/directors for well over a decade; he’s also one of the most savvy collaborators. Although he shared scripting credits on WALL•E, Up and Inside Out, all three possess an inventive point of view — a shrewd analysis of the human condition — that bespeaks Docter’s guiding influence.

 

This is even more obvious, given that he directed — and won well-deserved Academy Awards — for the latter two.

 

I figured Inside Out would remain his career masterpiece. I should’ve known better.

 

Soul — directed and co-written by Docter, with scripting assistance from Mike Jones and Kemp Powers — is another animated tour de force that ingeniously blends humor, pathos and social commentary with a wildly imaginative take on what makes us who we are.

 

Whereas Inside Out cheekily proposed how our workaday behavior varies according to the influence of (primarily) joy, sadness, fear and anger, Soul — available (ahem) solely via Disney+ — offers a fascinating theory for how our personalities are shaped, and the unalterable degree to which that influences who and what we become.

 

But the film doesn’t initially seem that way, and that’s another clever touch: An equally strong secondary story beats at its heart.

 

Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx), a gifted pianist with wicked jazz chops, has tirelessly gigged in an effort to get the one big break that might ignite a career. He’s a constant disappointment to his mother (Libba Gardner), who wishes he’d abandon such dreams and be content as a middle-school music teacher … particularly since he’s just been offered full-time employment.

 

Ah, but Joe lucks into an audition for world-renowned sax legend Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett) … and nails it. She makes him a member of her quartet, currently headlining at the Half Note (the absolute epitome, as visualized, of an intimate New York basement jazz club).

 

Giddy with delight, oblivious to his surroundings, Joe has an accident … and winds up — now a much smaller, ghostlike presence that represents his soul — on a moving sidewalk leading heavenward into The Great Beyond.

 

(This whiplash assault on our emotions and expectations — giddy with joy, sharing Joe’s success, to sudden whattheheck??? — is typical of Docter’s films.)