torsdag 26 maj 2016

Zootopia/Zootropolis vs The Good Dinosaur

To be honest, I didn't expect to be bowled over by either Disney's Zootopia (released as Zootropolis in Europe) or Pixar's The Good Dinosaur. What struck me when I saw the first trailers for these two films was that the underlying conceits seemed eerily similar. A world with animals in charge (and no humans) on the one hand, a world with dinosaurs in charge (and humans an animal species among the rest) on the other? Same difference! What's more, these ideas weren't original: in fact, they seemed downright  lazy. How many children's books, comics and animated films aren't built around the animals-as-people idea? More, even, than there are films and television programmes cashing in on kids' fascination with dinosaurs. All in all, it looked like neither Disney nor Pixar had quite hit on the next great idea for an animated picture yet.

Well, once again I learned that one shouldn't doubt The Mouse. I was seriously impressed by Zootopia: as for The Good Dinosaur, it wasn't bad - I bawled my eyes out at least three times - but I retained more of my initial scepticism. Pixar films, though often profoundly moving, are generally considered as a little more brainy and challenging than heartstring-plucking Disney fare. I'm not sure I agree, but I can see that there's a case to be made along those lines - Inside Out was certainly a proof of just how brainboxy Pixar can be. This time round, though, I think I can say with some truth that Zootopia was a more cerebral offering than The Good Dinosaur.

The underlying message of Zootopia is that you should overcome your prejudices which, on the face of it, sounds ickily moralistic. But rather than serve up this message on a plate and force-feed the audience with it - as, believe me, so many Swedish books, films and TV programmes aimed at children do - Zootopia gets to grips with its subject and doesn't shrink away from some of the hard questions it poses. What if you are limited to some extent by a group identity, though you don't want to be - is a career as a cop really such a great idea for a rabbit? What if someone lives up to the preconceived opinions you are trying to free yourself from, and what if this happens more than once? What if you feel you have a justified grievance against a specific group, rather than specific individuals who happen to belong to it? When does keeping an open mind risk becoming silly, or downright dangerous? It's hard not to snigger as a naughty child when Nick, the film's cynical fox, ridicules the wide-eyed rabbit heroine Judy's idealistic views of predators and prey who "live in harmony and sing Kumbaya". (Before it gets confusing, I should add that predators don't actually eat prey in this film - they've evolved away from that, apparently - so harmony between the species is not an unachievable goal.) Of course, the film sticks to its anti-prejudice message, but it acknowledges that shedding your prejudices is a great deal easier said than done - "real life is messy" - and bothers to put up intelligent arguments for why it's still worthwhile.

Some viewers have found it confusing that the predators and prey of Zootopia can't be equated with real-life groups in the human world, but I find this one of the film's strengths: it makes you think about the nature of prejudice generally, rather than distracting you with tiresome parallels in the "immigrants as aliens" vein. It has been said that the film is about racism, but actually it casts the net wider than that. My thoughts turned more to sexism when I saw it: the problems faced by Judy Hopps and Vice-Mayor Bellwether (a sheep doing all the donkey work for the vain lion Mayor) are those typically faced by ambitious women in a male-dominated working environment, while the accusation which surfaces towards predators - that they are genetically programmed to be violent - is a slur many men will be familiar with. That the predators, who at first seem to be rather favoured in Zootopian society, end up as the target of a toxic hate campaign is a clever twist, reminding us that victims of prejudice aren't always "marginalised". There's more: hands up if you recognise the impulse that makes an anxious mother draw her child further away from a perfectly harmless tiger on the tube, after there's been a scare about predators running wild. I've certainly been there.

If all this sounds impossibly worthy - my point is rather that it isn't - you can simply see it as a sweet "buddy movie" starring a fox and a bunny taking on bad guys. There's a major plot hole, though: what do the predators actually eat? You can't tell me Mayor Lionheart grew big and strong on wilting carrots.

A beautiful friendship is at the heart of The Good Dinosaur too, and its saving grace. The message of this film is that you should overcome your fear, but the point is never forcefully argued. Admittedly, the protagonist, a young dinosaur herbivore called Arlo, is seriously wimpy, but his parents' ham-fisted attempts to help him man (or dino) up only put my back up, and to some extent Arlo's. The whole "making your mark" scheme - as the dinosaur children perform feats which help their family farm (these are evolved dinos, remember) they are allowed to put their footprint on the family's silo next to their parents' - is a terrible idea, which only confirms Arlo's place as the runt of the litter. Only when we leave the realms of dodgy dinosaur parenting and concentrate on Arlo's against-the-odds blossoming friendship with a feral human boy, Spot, does the film become engaging.

I had other issues with the film besides the simplistic "be a man/dinosaur" theme: the not overly interesting premise (what if the meteor had missed, and dinosaurs had evolved to become, erm, hillbilly farmers and ranchers?); the clunky title (I suppose it references the thriller The Good German, set in post-WWII Europe, but what's the connection exactly?) and the oddly ugly dinosaur animation - like child drawings, and that much more noticeable as the backdrops are stupendously ultra-realistic. Nevertheless, all my defences crumbled away when Arlo and Spot bonded over lost loved ones - a three-hanky scene. This time, then, the Debating Society's prize goes to Disney, while the Big Weepie prize goes to Pixar. Not that I didn't cry a bit over Zootopia, too.    

onsdag 18 maj 2016

Eurovision follow-up and ways of wasting time

Nope, sorry, I don't understand it either. Britain was robbed - not of a victory, perhaps, but of a place among the top ten, or at least somewhere mid-field. The Brits did everything they could this year - at least everything I would have recommended - and still ended up third last in the Eurovision Song Contest. I voted for them (and for Poland: yes, you can do that), but it didn't help much.

It's a pity, because a little pro-European spirit in the UK would have been welcome about now. As they say in Star Wars: I have a bad feeling about this. Um, maybe we could let them win at football, or something?

What of the winner, then? Well, I didn't see that one coming. There's nothing wrong with Ukrainian Jamala's voice, nor her sincerity, but worthiness aside, this is a song with a scream in it - albeit a well-modulated one. Not something you'll find yourself humming in the shower, then. But we've had worse winners (Hard Rock Hallelujah, anyone?) and for that matter worse songs with screams in them in this competition. What's more, I had no real hope Sweden would win this year - I'm not sure we could afford it, for one thing - and Germany didn't deserve to (I'm not complaining about that last place - cripes). So congratulations Ukraine, and good luck with the, er, diplomatic aftermath.

On the plus side, Swedish Frans did really well - better than I'd expected - and Poland and Austria were favourites with the televoters, which rescued them from the bottom of the list. Russian Sergey got most of the popular votes, which was only fair. The Swedes put on a great show, Petra Mede shone again, and the parody of a typical winning Eurovision song in the mid-act was particularly funny. The overall quality of the competing songs was high: I may even buy the CD. All in all, not a bad Eurovision year.

The Eurovision froth was welcome, as I'm not in the mood for straining any cultural muscles at the moment, either in my reading or in my television viewing. I've given up on two historical crime novels lately and settled instead for a rereading (Jude Morgan's Passion, which I haven't written about specifically but still feels like blog ground already covered - it's great, though) and Discworld novel number four (Mort, promising, especially as Death is one of my favourite Discworld characters). As for TV, I haven't really put my back into finding some new addictive TV series. Increasingly, I find other ways of wasting my time when off duty. Watching YouTube clips is a real time bandit: it's hard to resist intelligent if nerdy twentysomething males presenting well-argued theories on such subjects as Pixar films and Disney princesses (yes really). Not to mention Top Ten lists with a villain theme, where I continually make the mistake of taking a look at too general lists where not a single one of the baddies on offer is personally known to me. Perniciously, these clips tend to be 7-15 minutes long, so you don't really register how time passes. You think "just one more", and suddenly, there's a whole hour gone.

For more concentrated time-wasting, watching The Clone Wars  on Netflix is preferable. It has no artistic or educational value and does not improve your mind one jot. It's too dull for kids and should be way too silly for grown-ups. But each episode is only about twenty minutes long, and the feeling that you have spent twenty minutes being no earthly use to anyone is oddly uplifting. I was even moved to do a modest stint of housework after one Clone session, muttering "every tuft of dust must be destroyed" in General Grievous-like tones in an effort to make hoovering feel less of a drag. Sadly, it didn't work.

torsdag 12 maj 2016

Eurovision: A for effort to the UK (but Russia will probably win)

There's no doubting that Russia wants to win the Eurovision Song Contest. Year after year, they send blissfully mainstream, ultra-professional numbers that have me humming along reluctantly while fearing that my own mother country will be bested. (The bread-baking old ladies were a different but equal kind of threat.) And since it's only a matter of time until they win (again), maybe this year is as good a time as any. I don't think Sweden stands a chance  - Frans is a sweet lad and the lyrics are clever, but I suspect the song is too low-key for massive European appeal - and the less said about Germany's entry, the better. Whereas Russia's ditty "You're the Only One", well-sung by the iceberg-climbing Sergey, is so catchy it has me jigging in my seat. Plus it's not about world peace, thankfully.

I can't help wondering, though, if the powers that be in Russia have really thought this through. Yes, "Russia wins Eurovision" would be great PR. "Eurovision fan arrested for waving rainbow flag" - not so much. For the Russian authorities, hosting this competition will be tricky to say the least - a little like hosting a multinational dog show in a country where the promotion of keeping pets is prohibited. Ah well, when there's a will, there's a way, and my goodness there's a will.

And it's not like the race is run yet; there are other strong contenders for the Eurovision crown. Here are a few (though please note that I've only heard the music video for some of them):

United Kingdom: Wouldn't it be marvellous if Britain won? Think about it: the timing really couldn't be better. Also, they've sent a good solid pop tune this year, professionally executed by two boyband-cute guys, without any archness or irony. To be honest, the song isn't my absolute favourite, but providing the boys don't tank completely live, I'm tempted to vote for them anyway. This kind of responsible Eurovision behaviour from the Brits should be encouraged and reinforced.

Azerbaijan: (yes, I've checked the spelling): There could be more power in the singing, but this is classic toe-tapping Eurovision fare. I wouldn't mind working out to this tune.

Austria: Far away, apparently, there is a lovely country, where they sing, and there are waving flowers on the ground... Yes, this number is extremely treacly. I suspect there are more hard-hitting My Little Pony cartoons. Having said that, the girl sings sweetly in beautiful French (do they speak French anywhere in Austria? The Alps, maybe?) and it's a real earworm.

Poland: The verse is a little dull, but I love the "Oh-oh-oh-oh" refrain, which in the video at least sounds really great. The rock power ballad vibe and suitably hirsute singer make me think of Queen.

Australia: Much as I love Eurovision, I don't think I'd watch it in the middle of the night. For this dedication alone, the Australians deserve to participate a second time around. Also, they sent a really strong entry last year, and here they are again with another winner - a ballad that no music radio channel would have to feel ashamed about airing. If the Aussies become a permament Eurovision fixture, I for one wouldn't grumble. But if they win, which country will they team up with when it comes to holding the competition next year? It would have to be a really good loser to allow another country to celebrate its victory and host a show on their soil.

Other possibles are the guy from Hungary, who wouldn't look out of place down a Cornwall tin mine, the rockers from Cyprus (I'm a sucker for a wolf-themed number) and the girl from Belgium who's just like something out of Fame. Let battle commence.

fredag 6 maj 2016

The end of the costume-drama boom?

April does seem to be the cruellest month where blogging’s concerned. I have had legitimate reasons for having a blog rest – headaches, toothache, travel – but maybe I have also been put off by the depressing nature of my chosen blog post subject: the likely end of the English costume-drama trend we’ve been seeing for the last few years.

I remember grumbling about the lack of costume dramas back in 2010: well, something changed, and I bet it was thanks to Downton Abbey. It took some time, mind, before Downton had the desired effect, but finally we got there. The BBC stopped being sniffy and met ITV’s challlenge by churning out high-quality and watchable period dramas of its own, culminating in the superb Dickensian. But now – well, I may be imagining it, but it feels like we’ve reached the crest of the costume-drama wave, and that new meagre years lie ahead.

Granted, there will be a new series of Poldark eventually, and ITV has committed itself to a drama about the young Queen Victoria. But these are projects that have been in the pipeline for a while, and when it comes to Poldark, the Beeb couldn’t very well back down from at least a second series after all the scything fuss. At the same time, they’re not doing a second series of Dickensian. I’m not going to be too hard on them – it was a wonder that Dickensian was done at all, and I can see that it must have posed a challenge from a marketing point of view. Nevertheless, I can foresee that we’ll have to wait for a long time for something equally good costume-drama-wise, or simply drama-wise. As for ITV, they got a three-episode Trollope adaptation out of Fellowes. (I’ve not watched it yet: I made the mistake of reading the novel Doctor Thorne first. Don’t if you’re not already a Trollope fan. A TV version should be quite sufficient.) But apart from that, and the Victoria series starring Jenna “Clara” Coleman, they don’t seem to have anything new lined up to fill the gap – or rather the chasm – left by the end of Downton Abbey and Mr Selfridge. Maybe, because the BBC had such a success with The Night Manager, spy dramas will be the new black now for a while.

At least the final series of Mr Selfridge was good. It didn’t have the same frothy appeal as the first and second series, but this time around, when something serious happened you actually cared. Harry Selfridge himself remained a problem to the end; I could well understand the frustration of his enemies – a newspaper proprietor, a gambling agent and a share-holder representative, all with legitimate grievances. Nevertheless, when Selfridge was kicked out of his own company, it was a melancholy moment, not least because he was fully responsible for his own downfall. I’m glad they stopped the series before he got completely impoverished. Other characters, such as Mr Grove, Miss Mardle and Mr Crabb, have been around for long enough to earn our sympathy, if not to a Downton degree. (Someone give Ron Cook a lifetime award or something: he’s been excellent in everything I’ve seen him in, from cheeky boy actor in Will Shakespeare way back, via the debtor’s prison guard in Little Dorrit to Mr Crabb, who was little more than a function character to start with.)

We probably won’t get to see anything as engrossing as Downton again for a while – if ever – but with Mr Selfridge, ITV has shown that they can come up with a creditable long-running costume drama in its own right. There’s enough screenwriting and acting talent out there to make it happen again and again. So what are they waiting for?