Pixar's Luca : more heartfelt than brainboxy (and all the better for it)

What can I say about Pixar's latest film, which premiered a week back directly on Disney + (and without the annoying "premier access" hurdle: hey, I was prepared to pay more to view Raya and the Last Dragon early, but Cruella? Come on!), that hasn't already been said? Critics have called it a charming little gem of a film about friendship, with likeable characters, which also happens to be perfect summer viewing. And - no great surprise - this is exactly what it is. 

Some reviewers have been underwhelmed by the simple plot. They have come to expect more advanced, thoughtprovoking content from Pixar. But to me, the messaging in Pixar films can be a bit hit and miss. I don't always buy their pitches: for every Soul or Inside Out, there's a The Good Dinosaur or Incredibles 2 where what appears to be the central message leaves me pretty cold. Why is it so important that Arlo the dinosaur mans up: shouldn't his parents be taught a lesson about accepting your children as they are instead? Is wanting an easy life really such a terrible thing, as the villain (with whom you're clearly expected to agree on this point) claims in Incredibles 2? Yes, Pixar films usually make you think, but pretty often it's about why a film you've enjoyed didn't quite gel with you. An uncomplicated story in the Luca vein from this studio was welcome for me.

Having said that, I didn't look forward to watching this film, precisely because its message - as gleaned from the trailers - seemed so very standard. Please, don't "overcome your prejudices" again! Like so many films and TV shows before it, Luca seemed set to use a completely different species (cute sea monsters, in this case) as an analogy for some Beleaguered Minority or other. I'm not fond of these analogies at the best of times, and they've been done to death.

It's a good thing then, in my opinion, that the film doesn't spend too much time on the sea-monster angle, but instead focuses on the emotional core of the story. Luca is a sea-monster kid who has been warned to stay away from the surface and humans, but is curious about their way of life. So far, so Little Mermaid. But then he meets another sea-monster boy, the confident Alberto, who actually lives on land and loves it. He encourages Luca to surface and explore life as a human - whenever the sea monsters are on land, they take on human form, though if they are splashed with water their original appearance peeps through. The boys form a heartwarming bond. Alberto's the cocky one, but in fact he knows a great deal less about land life than he lets on, and it's pretty clear from the start that he needs the wide-eyed Luca's friendship as much as Luca needs his, if not more.

Luca's parents find out about his surface adventures and want to send him to the deep of the ocean with a weird uncle just to keep him from danger. This prompts him to run away and brave the small town of Porto Rosso together with Alberto, where in their human shape they team up with a tomboyish girl named Giulia in order to win a triathlon competition and get money to buy what they consider the ultimate ticket to freedom: a vespa.

The story is more or less an excuse to get to know the characters and explore their relationship to each other more. Lucky then that the characters are so engaging. I particularly warmed to Alberto: it mattered to me that Luca should not lose faith in him. (What with my sympathy for Barley in Onward, I suppose one could see a pattern emerging.) The side characters are good too, Giulia's intimidating-looking father especially. The small town of Porto Rosso is properly idyllic in a very Italian way - it's a good thing Enrico Casarossa, who directed and cowrote the film, is actually from Italy, or it might have been accused of being just a tad stereotypical when it comes to depicting Italian culture. Although the town makes a grand fuss over its supposed sea-monster-slaying heritage, you can sort of guess that when it comes down to it the boys are pretty safe: the residents seem genuinely nice as opposed to, say, the townsfolk in Disney's Beauty and the Beast who can turn to a threatening mob in a trice when confronted by something unusual.

There is one misfire in the characterisation, and that's the villain. I've wanted a front-and-centre villain in a Disney or Pixar film for ages, and Ercole, the protagonist trio's rival for the triathlon cup, is certainly that: sadly, he's also a bully, which is one of the least interesting types of villain out there. The character is a caricature, and while watching I caught myself wondering whether the film wouldn't have been better off without a villain (a very rare thought for me to have). In Ercole's defence, his plot function is probably primarily to be a bastard so that the rest of the townsfolk don't have to. You couldn't remove him from the story without upping the conflict by making the other Porto Rossians more hostile. And there is one useful villain lesson to be learned (which incidentally ties into the friendship theme): always show due respect to your minions.

It has been said that Luca isn't only a coming-of-age film, but also a coming-out film. To which I'd say - eh - yes and no. Yes, because the parallel between the sea-monster dilemma and coming out in a hostile environment is pretty obvious. The sea monsters could be seen to represent some other minority like immigrants, but as they look like "ordinary" people on land and are only in trouble if something they are hiding is revealed, gays seem to be the best minority fit (and some lines and incidents at the end of the film strengthen this interpretation). No, because Luca's relationship to Alberto, as well as his relationship to Giulia, aren't romantic, not even in a pre-teen Love Actually kind of way. The film does such a good job of exploring friendship that you risk missing out if you see the relationship dynamics going on between Luca, Alberto and Giulia as just another love triangle. Alberto's jealousy of Giulia isn't that of a discarded lover but of a friend who finds himself sidelined and less important to his best buddy than he once was. Giulia undermines him by showing Luca what human life is really like, but she's not aware of doing this, and she sees both the boys as great pals. Luca is drawn to Giulia not because of some physical attraction, but because he is intellectually curious and Giulia can provide him with answers. 

"Friendship jealousy" is rarely depicted on film and on TV in my experience, at least compared to the romantic kind, and I thought it was really interesting to see it addressed here. That's not to say you can't imagine romantic complications ensuing further down the line - but during the scope of the film, these three kids are just friends. And as it shows, that can be complicated enough.

The Dig: Nice, old-fashioned costume drama (where not a lot happens)

It's a measure of how long it's been since my head was really in the costume-drama game that my boss - no great admirer of period dramas - managed to watch Netflix's The Dig before I did. He seemed to quite like it, and he wasn't the only one. From the reviews I've read, this gentle film about an archeological find in Suffolk in 1939 was generally well received. People have apparently warmed to its atmosphere, class A acting and thoughtful pace. I ended up liking it too, but I have to admit that before I got properly into it I was bored.

Yes, the performances are excellent. Ralph Fiennes as self-taught excavation expert Basil Brown and Carey Mulligan as the fragile widow, aptly named Mrs Pretty, who hires him to find out what's hidden under some mysterious-looking mounds on her land give very strong central performances. What's more, every little role is cast with seasoned British acting pros (Danny Webb is the butler, because why not?). Yes, the rural surroundings look really nice, and the dialogue flows naturally without being either stilted in classic period-drama fashion or jarringly anachronistic. But - it has to be said - this story is not what I'd call a ripping yarn. 

At first, I drummed my fingers impatiently. Then somewhere along the way, I just settled into the rhythm of the film. It unnerved me that it took me so long - I started to wonder again about my possibly devolving Macra brain - but in my defence, the plot lines are rather meandering, and not all of them go anywhere. There is a hinted-at attraction between Brown and Mrs Pretty (first name Edith), but it never evolves - they observe each other, at a suitable distance, to mournful piano music, and just as she's asked him to come round for dinner and he's accepted and is washing off the archeological grime, his hitherto unmentioned wife turns up. Mrs Brown is no shrew, either, but a decent woman with a lot of sympathy for her husband's dedication to his work (so there was no reason for Basil not to talk about her all the time, really). Romance is not on the cards, then.

Another plot line centres around Basil Brown being an unsung hero whose pivotal role in discovering the ship has been forgotten, pushed aside as he was by The Establishment. And I'm sure that's true, only the treatment of Basil, as depicted here, isn't that heinous. He isn't sacked from the dig when Phillips, the archeologist employed by the British Museum, turns up. However, he is sidelined, resigns and then returns (at the request of Edith and her son, according to the film). But the British Museum men aren't bunglers - they know their stuff and don't dismiss Brown's work and findings. Phillips (as played by Ken Stott) has grown stout, but is canny enough to leave the delicate work to his more nimble co-workers. It's not that I wouldn't have liked to have seen Fiennes's salt-of-the-earth excavator get his fair share of recognition. At the same time, I must say I rather saw Phillips's point when he didn't put Brown on a pedestal because Brown found a ship in a mound where he was expressly asked to dig by Mrs Pretty. I wasn't left feeling that there was any malice (perhaps not even that much snobbishness) behind the sidelining of Basil Brown.

Perhaps sensing a certain amount of plotlessness, the film tries to throw a love triangle (or quadrangle) into the mix, focusing on what I suspect are made-up characters taking part in the dig. But though I'm a sucker for romantic storylines, I felt like this plot could have been cut out altogether with no great ill effects. Lily James, somewhat deglamourised, brings her usual ingénue charm to the part of Peggy Piggott, newly wedded to archeologist Stuart Piggott. Only, he doesn't put out as he's clearly a closet case and attracted to a hot-in-an-academic-way young man who is also assisting at the dig. Which gives Peggy the perfect excuse to, if she chooses, get off with Edith's handsome photographer cousin Rory (Johnny Flynn, almost as sought after for likeable hero parts as James is for likeable young heroines).

This felt way too pat. I caught myself thinking, grimly and ungenerously, "good" when Peggy's and Rory's first tentative lovers' tryst didn't lead to anything. But then Peggy and her husband separate amicably after she gives an incredibly generous and civilised "it's not me it's you but that's OK" speech. After that, yeah, she did deserve some action with the photographer, but I can't say their romance ever gripped me. Also, nice as it is when a relationship can come to an end without anyone feeling hurt, where's the drama when there's no conflict?

The strongest part of the film, in my view, was when it played like a good old weepie. Edith finds out she's dying of a heart disease and is rightly worried about her young son Robert, an engaging English schoolboy of the imaginative, adventurous kind - he could have come right from the pages of 4.50 from Paddington. It is properly touching when mother and son bond with Basil while Edith's health declines, and the understanding Mrs Brown is ready to offer extra comfort if needed and doesn't mind her husband getting roped in as a surrogate father figure. The scene where Robert blames himself for his mother's condition - everyone told him it was his job to look after her when his father died, "and I failed" - had me sobbing, as did their final farewell ensconced in the excavated ship.

So yes, I'd recommend The Dig, for a lazy summer evening when you're not in the mood for a tense thriller. Also, it's best to catch a period drama full of old-fashioned virtues and devoid of Messages for our Modern Age like this one while there's still time. Something tells me they won't be making many more of them in the near future.