Review: Frozen II

By Tim

Frozen, the 2013 feature from Walt Disney Animation Studios, is one of the decade's most extreme success stories: it's the highest-grossing film of the decade that's neither a remake nor a sequel, as well as the highest-grossing animated feature in history (depending on where you set the definition of "animation"; this summer's all-CGI remake of The Lion King bumped it down a notch). Even given Disney's historical reluctance to produce theatrically-released sequels, it's not really much of a surprise that the studio has succumbed to the temptation to chase that blockbuster with a six-years-later follow-up. And so it is that Frozen II is upon us.

The biggest question facing the film is, of course, "does it live up to the original?" And I do wish that I had a less wishy-washy answer than "maybe." A lot depends on what you think about Frozen: for me, it's the third-best of Disney's three original princess movies this decade, behind 2010's Tangled and 2016's Moana, largely because of what a shambling wreck it becomes as the story structure loosens in the second half. Frozen II has the same problem, but in reverse: the first half of the movie feels more like script notes than a script, scene after scene in which neither the stakes, nor the locations, nor the emotions, nor the narrative momentum seems to carry through. Then, at a particular point midway – the particular point depicted in the film's dramatic teaser trailer, no less – everything snaps into focus and the plot and mood suddenly seem like they make sense, more or less. Which is irritating, because it means that talking about everything Frozen II does well would bring us into spoiler territory, and thus this review is going to involve a lot more complaining than the film necessarily deserves...

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"Klaus" is (half) a masterpiece...

Our resident animation expert will be looking at several of the movies vying for a nomination in Best Animated Feature. First up, a Christmas movie.

by Tim Brayton

The new animated feature Klaus is being pulled in a lot of directions. It's the directorial debut of Sergio Pablos, a former Disney animator who splits time between Hollywood projects (as screenwriter, he created the Despicable Me franchise) and nurturing his own company, SPA Studios, based in his hometown of Madrid. It's also the first animated feature produced by Netflix, which has been making sure to emphasize that fact in all of its marketing efforts. And it's not just any old Netflix production: this is part of the streaming service's increasingly deep bench of Christmas-themed movies.

It's hard not to think about this while one is watching the movie. Depending on how you approach it, Klaus is either a masterpiece, or a frankly irritating collection of tin-eared dialogue, odd casting choices, and dated clichés of kids' movie screenwriting...

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100th Anniversary: Felix the Cat

by Tim

This weekend marks the 100th birthday of cinema's first cartoon superstar. On November 9, 1919, Paramount released Feline Follies, produced by Pat Sullivan and animated by Otto Mesmer, a short gag-driven cartoon starring a black cat named Master Tom; the character was an immediate hit and by the time the third cartoon featuring the character came out five weeks later (they worked fast back in those days), he'd been renamed Felix. The rest is history: Felix the Cat was a bonafide phenomenon, igniting a craze for funny, mutable animals that hasn't let up at any point in the last century. Even Walt Disney's Mickey Mouse, the cinematic icon to end all icons, was initially conceived as a blatant Felix knock-off swapping out the cat's pointy ears for circles that were easier to draw.

You might not guess that to watch Feline Follies, which feels like an artifact from a lost civilization. This is what cartoons looked like in the 1910s: empty white voids full of characters who move in straight lines with few distinct movements, speaking in speech bubbles imported directly from newspaper comic strips...

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How had I never seen... "Farewell My Concubine" (1993)

In this new series, members of Team Film Experience watch and share their reactions to classic films they’ve never seen. 

by Tim Brayton

I wish there was a good reason why it took me 26 years to catch up with Chen Kaige's Farewell My Concubine, co-winner of the 1993 Palme d'Or, two-time Oscar nominee for Best Cinematography and Best Foreign-Language Film, and the film that did more than probably any other single title to present Chinese art cinema to international audiences in the 1990s. Instead, I only have a very terrible reason: it's 171 minutes long, and I never quite managed to make it my top priority in those moments when I had three uninterrupted hours.

To the surprise of nobody, including myself, that turns out to have been a terrible mistake. As long as the film is – and I'd be fibbing if I said that I never once felt that running time – it's unquestionably filling every last one of those minutes with a whole lot of immensely appealing stuff. That Best Cinematography nomination wasn't for show: this is an unbelievably lavish epic of 20th Century history, surely one of the most gorgeous motion pictures of its decade...

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De Laurentiis pt 2: The '60s epics of Dinocittà

This week at TFE we're celebrating the centennial of one of cinema’s most prolific and legendary producers, Dino De Laurentiis.  Here's Tim Brayton...

Yesterday, Eric took us on a tour of the first phase of Dino De Laurentiis's one-of-a-kind career as a producer, the era when he and Carlo Ponti helped usher a number of major works of late Neorealism into the world, introducing the first wave of international art cinema masterpieces. We now arrive at the 1960s, when De Laurenteiis was emboldened by those early successes to indulge himself in the first of his many flights of staggering, ill-advised ambition. Near the start of the decade, De Laurentiis opened a movie studio on the outskirts of Rome, an enormous playground for moviemaking nicknamed Dinocittà (after the famous Cinecittà, then and now the heart of the Italian film industry).

The Dinocittà experiment perfectly describes De Laurentiis's singular personality. A visionary producer can tell what is going to be popular in the future, and thus can jump in on trends at the moment of their inception. The hacks who make up the bulk of commercial producers know what was popular a year ago, and thus crank out movies that feel like uninspired cash-grabs and knock-offs. De Laurentiis had the gift and curse of knowing what's popular right this instant, and so his biggest swings – and too often, his biggest misses – came out just barely on the back side of the historical moment when they could live up to his extravagant hopes...

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