THE BOOK OF LIFE

We could overlook, as many critics explicitly said they did, the impersonal narrative of The Book of Life had it at least stayed true to its avowed purpose, a celebration of the Day of the Dead and its meaning to Mexicans. But the holiday and what it stands for remains only a backdrop for most of the film until it becomes, at most, a Deus ex machine device to save the day. What could have been an overdue tribute to the festivities of a country the movie lovingly refers to as the center of the universe, becomes an interesting missed opportunity.

            An indication of the missteps to come arrives early in the film when a school bus drops a band of rowdy children in front of an unnamed museum. Being cartoons, they are, of course, abstract caricatures of contemporary tweens but are, by a comparison that is about to become obvious, recognizable as humans. It is set to create a contrast for the movie’s further plight into cartoon abstraction in the story within the story (about two childhood amigos who compete for the love of the same señorita in the old town of San Angel) where all of the characters are wooden puppets, making the children the proxies to our world. In itself, that framework makes sense because the story is told by the mesmerizing tour guide (Christina Applegate) with the use of carved wood figures representing the players. Ultimately, however, the difference between the world of the children (the “real” world) and that of the fable contained within is only superficial.

            The movie sets up for a dimensional distance between the two worlds through the means of classic fantasy devices. The children are led by the unorthodox tour guide (the magical nanny who knows how to reach out to troublesome kids) not through the museum’s main entrance but, rather, through a secret entrance into a labyrinth few others have seen where the magic of Mexico’s holiday comes to life. The story that will unfold within this framework promises to be filled with charm, folk magic, and legend. True, it takes place in a real country in the real world (albeit in a fantastical town shaped like a guitar), but it’s not the Mexico we recognize. This is an alternate land of spirits, mystic creatures, and afterlives. 

            And then, once we delve into this stylized Mexico and its traditional folk music and colors, the film assaults us with an array of contemporary pop songs that have little, if anything, to do with the land. This may sound trivial, but it’s a betrayal of the film’s promised intention. If the spell of San Angel derives from its abstraction from the real world, why drown it with references to modern trends?

            Conversely, the main point of abstraction (the wooden husks of the characters), while reasonable in principle, eventually diminishes whatever impact was possible from the story. It’s hard to feel much for what is, after all, a marionette. This is especially true when Manolo (Diego Luna), the docile guitar player who dreams of winning the hand of Maria (Zoë Saldana) by following a different path than his family of matadors, finally enters the bullring. We are asked not only to fear for a puppet but also to take the beast he battles, a gadget made of wood and steal, seriously.

            As a tribute to Mexican culture, The Book of Life came from trusted sources. Director Jorge Gutierrez has a long history of animating his country’s rich heritage for children (most notably Nickelodeon’s El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera) and here, for his first big screen venture, got backing from, among others, none other than Guillermo del Toro.

            Gutierrez had long been planning the film and seemingly struck gold when he landed a deal with DreamWorks in 2007, but this was not to be. Jeffrey Katzenberg wanted one thing and Gutierrez another and so they parted ways. Gutierrez shopped his project around for some time after.

            “We pitched it everywhere, and the reaction was, 'Day of the Dead for children? Are you guys crazy?,” he recalled. “Most people thought it was about zombies.”

 His savior came in early 2012 in the form of a then little known Dallas based animation company called Reel FX with Fox Animation Studios offering to distribute the film. It was shortly after that del Toro was brought in.

            Del Toro soon took the picture and, tellingly, fell in love with the premise of the film. “I have admired Jorge’s work for a long time,” he said. “He has a unique aesthetic and sense of humor. Day of the Dead [as the film was still being called in early 2012, before it was changed to avoid conflict with a similarly themed Pixar movie under production] offers a perfect opportunity for his sensibilities to shine. This is a colorful, vibrant, vital fable that utilizes the animation medium in an incredible way. The object of the tale is not only to talk about life but to dazzle us – jolt us- into living to the fullest. To join Reel FX, Cary Granat and Jorge in this adventure is a privilege and a joy.”

            Judging by later interviews, it seems as if Gutierrez had both his heart and head in the right place.

            “I never saw Mexicans or Latinos up on the screen, so I was just happy when we would show up,” he told the LA Times.  “But then I would go, well, that's not what we are. I started questioning the portrayal of the culture. When I got older I said, 'I want to play with that. I want to make fun of how we're perceived. I want to turn that around.”

            A lot of that national spirit is evident in The Book of Life but a revealing statement by Gutierrez is indicative of where it went wrong.
            “All my favorite albums, all my favorite books and films, they are all personal stories that take place in a very specific culture but that are universal,” he said to the Hollywood Reporter. “So I wanted to make something that happened in my family but make it for the world.”

            It’s a commendable undertaking in itself, but in The Book of Life it has the effect of draining the movie’s cultural soul.

            That said there are many smart innovations in The Book of Life worthy of praise. Most of the toon creations are more profound than the unimaginative love triangle and themes (stand up to your fears, follow your own path, etc.) suggest. Joaquin (Channing Tatum), Manolo’s cheeseball rival for Maria’s love, is a boastful decorated warrior who nonetheless finds room in his heart to respect his childhood chum. Maria is, as to be expected, designed as a role model for young women and puts both men in their place when she becomes a mere prize in their battle but is also the most endearing heroine in a recent animated film, striking a perfect balance in her martial arts expertise and kind heart. No side character, from the comically incompetent guards to the bumbling bandits that terrorize the town, are wasted. Even the gods watching over the town are written in terms broader than good and evil. La Muerte (Kate del Castillo), ruler of the jovial Land of the Remembered, is kind enough to believe humanity deserves to be trusted while her husband, the slimy Xibalba (Ron Perlman in one of his most unrecognizable vocal efforts) is a dour cynic watching over the living in disdain. Obviously inspired by Disney’s take on Hades in Hercules, he has the acid humor of his hand-drawn counterpart but neither his plan nor intention are irredeemably evil. He simply wants a turn at ruling the happier land and so engages in a bit of a wager with his unworldly wife. He doesn’t play fair, but the fate of humanity is never at stake and his quarrels with La Muerte over the villagers are not dissimilar to those of parents arguing over their children. The best of these supreme beings is Ice Cube’s Candle Maker, a big jolly bearded spirit made entirely of wax and clouds, a composition computer animation captures terrifically. As is often the case, the blandest character is the one we are supposed to root for. Manolo is little more than a pure soul with a gift for song. Saints are so boring.

            There were no better people to make The Book of Life than Jorge Gutierrez and Guillermo del Toro. By all accounts, in the development stages of The Book of Life they knew what they were doing. At some point before the end of production they forgot what they set out to honor.