ENCHANTED

Slightly disappointingly, the first thirteen or so minutes of Enchanted the classic Disney fairy-tale straight. Knowing the intention of the movie from press-releases (the idea originated from a script written by Bill Kelly back in the fall of 1997, which he sold to Touchstone for $450,000) and the promise of the posters (a princess in New York) makes reading between the lines and reserving our judgment easier.

In the wake of the first three Shrek movies (the third having been released that summer) there was some talk of the fairy-tale spoof having become so overdone that the classic narrative was due for a comeback. Even more widespread was the lamentation over the near total demise of hand-drawn animation in favor of more cost-effective CGI cartoons. Besides cutting costs, it’s not hard to see why in the mid-2000s Disney decided to abandon its original look after the critical and commercial failure of Home on the Range, marketed as the last of its kind. When it took a critical beating upon its release in the spring of 2004, Home on the Range gave Disney reason, becoming the last straw in a dire string including Atlantis: The Lost Empire, the overrated Lilo & Stitch, Treasure Planet, Brother Bear, which only hurt the case for the traditional look when standing by the side of Pixar’s golden hits. Still, there was much unhappiness. This, of course, meant never again seeing the gothic majesty of Beauty and the Beast or the vibrant color of Aladdin and The Lion King or the warmth of the early classics.

There was, then, hope that Enchanted would restore faith in Disney’s roots, but if the opening of the movie put that hope in jeopardy, the commercial shortcomings of The Princess and the Frog (actually a better movie than its reputation would suggest) two years later dashed it. Now, with the uncertain future of Studio Ghibli, we are unlikely to see a quality hand-drawn animated feature for a while, the form relegated mostly to TV cartoons.

The animated segments of Enchanted are too minor a component to the overall film to justify taking blame for helping to seal the fate of the style, but they do serve as a reminder of what was growing stale in the animated fairy-tale, and not just Disney’s, toward the end of their era. It emulates the style of the traditional formula to a fault and with misguided direction. There is no tangible irony in Princess Giselle singing in her forest cottage to all her little animal friends about her dream prince. Neither is there much of the wanted sarcasm directed at the dashing Prince Edward, who spends his days riding through the forest hunting trolls.

Director Kevin Lima stuck closely to the early works the film and Giselle borrow from. “She is about 80% Snow White, with some traits borrowed from Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, although her spunkiness comes from Ariel of The Little Mermaid” Lima said. “These characters expect things to happen to them, but being in the contemporary world forces Giselle to grow and become an active participant.”

There is nothing wrong with the look of the animation. In fact, Lima’s style has always been refreshingly bouncy for Disney. His superb character movements and lush backgrounds for Tarzan are the apex of his work at Disney, but here he retains the style of his A Goofy Movie and The Emperor’s New Groove, not necessarily a bad thing since both films had an enjoyably relaxed feel to their movements and scenery. Lima thought so anyway and stuck to the tested formula.

“Kevin wanted the animation to feel nostalgic, to have it feel familiar to the audience,” said fellow animator James Baxter. “But he also wanted it to have a style of its own, a unity. We used art nouveau as a jumping-off point”

Indeed, this was the sort of approach Disney was after. Producer Barry Josephson spoke enthusiastically about it. “Kevin knows the world of Belle from Beauty and the Beast, Pocahontas and Mulan. He knows what princesses are like, what they want, how they sit down, how they talk, what their eyes look like. He knew exactly what Giselle should embody.”

 Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty meant for their simplistic interpretations of love to be taken seriously. For a film that avows to kid the formula, the opening of Enchanted plays it pretty much by the book. Disney also sets itself up for a black eye with the oafish big green troll, an obvious mockery of Shrek, apparently unaware that the insipidness of these opening moments is precisely what DreamWorks loves to rip apart in its Shrek movies.

All this is simply a prologue to say that not everything is as it seems. Also as expected, a wicked queen dwells in the land of Andalasia who also happens to be the mother of Prince Edward and jealous of her throne. Should her son marry she loses her title and so, once she discovers the romance, she sets off to banish Giselle by way of a secret portal to another world; namely New York City.

From here, Enchanted becomes a thorough delight and one of Disney’s best surprises in years. It’s often funny with a lot of magic, fabulous music, and a great sense of fun. Once the setting changes to New York and the footage to live-action the loving parody becomes evident and we also get an abundance of jokes about the absurdities of modern life when seen through the more simplistic eyes of someone fresh out of an enchanted Bohemian wood.

Philosophically, too, Enchanted asks a lot of questions about the cartoon world in relation to ours. In the past, different movies have suggested different theories. Who Framed Roger Rabbit had the toons coexisting with humans albeit living in the segregated district of Toontown. Looney Tunes: Back in Action had more or less the same idea but Space Jam had them travelling to our world only when the need arises. Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks had them living in far off lands (beneath a pavement picture and the Island of Naboombu), which were accessible to humans only through magic. Pete’s Dragon showed the other side of the coin, where animated characters could enter our world. Disney used special portals as explanation for these inter-world visits from his early Alice shorts and revisited them again in The Three Caballeros, where books and greeting cards were the way in and out of live footage for the cartoon characters. Later features (Fun & Fancy Free, Melody Time, and even Song of the South in its two musical numbers) features cartoons strolling around the real world as if it were familiar territory. Animation pioneer Max Fleischer had taken it once step further since his Out of the Inkwell series, exposing the cartoons’ origin as drawings that come to life and hop out of the paper and into the artist’s studio. This formula was repeated in a few Warner Bros. cartoons like You Ought to Be in Pictures and even (to a lesser extent) in the Disney feature The Reluctant Dragon. None of these theories necessarily contradict each other, though celebrity cameos in TV shows like The Simpsons and Family Guy as well as some classic cartoons like Disney’s The Autograph Hound and Warners’s Hollywood Daffy, which featured cameos by many stars in caricature, could make a case for an inverse to what happens in Enchanted. When humans enter a cartoon world they may become into animated beings.

Be that as it may, Times Square is no place for a former cartoon princess, though seeing a damsel in a puffy dress is not all that startling to Manhattaners. But Giselle’s innocence puts her in danger, running her afoul of pedestrians, gets her robbed by a homeless man, and trapped in a perilous perch.

These early fish-out-of-water scenes work as well as they do thanks to the casting of Amy Adams as the new flesh and bone Giselle, an actress that radiates innocence and delicateness. A part like Giselle requires some degree of overacting, but the stranded princess’s ability to see the best in everyone makes her a natural fit for Adams. Tearing up at the thought of the divorce of a couple she doesn’t know only seems genuine coming from her.

“Ultimately, she survives because she has an instinctual ability to adapt,” Lima said. “he can follow her dream no matter what stands in the way, whether it's a houseful of rats or learning how to make a new dress. She can survive. Unlike Edward. He's all about entitlement and bravado. He doesn't doubt himself very much. The world is too much for him.”

There isn’t a bad note in all of Enchanted, least of all with its casting. Patrick Dempsey makes for a surprisingly appealing as Robert, the aggressive divorce attorney raising a six-year old girl on his own at the time her rescues Giselle from a rooftop tumble. Dempsey’s performance runs on nuances; the pain of divorce still hangs over Robert, the hope of rekindling love with a new woman played by Idina Menzel, and the trials of a soul-drenching career.

As Morgan, Robert’s daughter, Rachel Covey holds her own against the two adult leads. Her relationship with Dempsey is especially truthful to that of a little girl seeking more affection from a troubled parent and Covey captures the magic of the moment when in Giselle she finds the friend she longs for.

It would be easy to tear apart James Marsden’s over the top performance as Prince Edward, who travels to New York via the portal to rescue his lady fair, but its stoic flamboyance is all part of the game.

“The princes didn't have much personality. So I borrowed a little of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, minus the evil intentions, and some Buzz Lightyear. Edward is always in love with being in love,” Marsden said of his interpretation.

 The dashing debonair and his well-meaning but primeval ideas about marriage are no longer a suitable match for Giselle after her education about love in the modern world. His own misadventures in the city make for some great comedy, especially his clash with an irate bus driver and the toned down blue humor of an unexpected encounter with a biker during his door-to-door search for Giselle; a remnant, no doubt, of the raunchier film Enchanted was meant to be in Bill Kelly’s original screenplay, in which Giselle first entered the real world through a portal that led her into a bachelor party in Chicago where she was confused for a stripper.

 Disney quickly rejected this screenplay only to revisit it in 2001 with the hope of shaping it into a family movie. By 2001, Rob Marshall left the project and Kevin Lima eventually took over as director. By 2005, Bill Kelly was brought back on as screenwriter and development for the film that would be Disney’s holiday hit of 2007 was in full swing.

Villains can make or break like this and Enchanted has two marvelous baddies played with awesome derision by Susan Sarandon and Timothy Spall. Actually, it’s more like a villain and a half since Spall’s Nathaniel starts off in Andalasia an infatuated henchman of the queen who follows the prince down the portal where he has a change of heart. Even his transformation into a good guy is given a comic pay-off though it comes rather abruptly (and a scene featuring his morality at a cross-road was deleted). Still, the array of disguises and voices make great use of Spall’s weasly villainy. Sarandon spends most of the movie as an animated queen, but makes a wonderfully acid witch in human flesh. Her climactic showdown with the princess atop a skyscraper makes a thrilling finale and represents CGI at its best.

Enchanted would not be complete without music and the film boasts the return of the legendary Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz. The lively Oscar nominated “That’s How You Know”, a beautifully choreographed number set in Central Park , is the film’s highlight and a tribute to musicals themselves (featuring dancers from West Side Story).

“"Think of it as “Under the Sea”, but paying tribute to the melting pot of New York,” Menken said. “It starts with salsa, moves to steel drums, then reggae, an oompah band, even some Bollywood.”

 “Happy Working Song” is the film’s most elaborate parody of predecessors. Giselle follows ancestors Snow White and Cinderella, summoning her own animal friends to help her tidy up her benefactor’s apartment, which soon becomes a vermin filled menagerie as rats, pigeons, and all the other undesirable inhabitants of New York City respond to her call.

 To Giselle this is a perfectly harmonious chorus, Robert is, of course, horrified. This worked so well that Disney tried a variation for its ABC series Once Upon a Time where Snow White (Ginnifer Goodwin), sweeping up the dwarves’ cottage in tuneful bliss attracts affable birds from outside…which she immediately takes a swing at with her broom.

Enchanted has a gentle way with breaking conventions, never crushing them enough to alienate purists but, instead, presenting an alternative.

“Shrek has a tendency to beat up on Disney,” Lima said. “This is just the opposite. We lovingly embrace Disney.”

 Case in point, Giselle tells Morgan that not all stepmothers are evil, just before the film cuts away to the scheming Queen. But, Giselle’s words are proven true by Nancy, Robert’s girlfriend, sincere attempt to bond with Rachel and be part of the family. In the end, Nancy does find her own happy ending in an unexpected place.

Enchanted is fine bright entertainment of the sort that doesn’t sell children short of the old magic that was becoming scarce and with enough references to classic works and even some innuendos to keep adults engaged. It is, after all, a return to the animated classics they grew up with.

JUNEBUG

Carefully built character studies with sincere concern for real human emotions and insight into real lives have a tendency to make us want to stay within the small circle of lives they explore, getting to know each individual and their personal problems better. Movies like Junebug, one of those valuable rare specimens too few people see, are windows into other minds and for its comparatively brief running time of just under two hours it makes the dilemmas of the Johnstens, a dysfunctional family from one of those sleepy out-of-the-way towns in North Carolina, our concern. Ultimately, director Phil Morrison and writer Angus MacLachlan, who initially conceived of this work as a play, make it a bittersweet trip. We have seen enough of the Johnstens for closure, but still wish we could stay longer.

            Like the Johnstens themselves, we arrive at Junebug as strangers, observing people we hardly know and, at first, may not want to know. Then, as each of their stories unfolds, we become more and more drawn to the confined world presented until we become comfortable in it, surprising us with its rewards.

            There is certainly nothing very inviting about the Johnstens upon first glance. It’s are a matriarchal homestead dominated by Peg (Celia Weston) whose scolding has reduced her husband Eugene (Scott Wilson) into a cowering little man with a hushed tone, often retreating to the basement for the protection of his wood sculptures. She can’t, however, get through to her son Johnny (Benjamin McKenzie), who spends most of his time when not on the job at the rental center brooding around the kitchen, snapping at any passerby that sticks their nose his way. Not even his pregnant wife Ashley (Amy Adams) has much luck getting him to crack a smile. Having found both a home and a family with the Johnstens, Ashley is excited to start her own family with the new baby; a joy she can’t convince Johnny to take part in. What Johnny really wants is a mystery which comes close to being unlocked by an unlikely source, his brother George’s (Alessandro Nivola) new wife Madeleine (Embeth Davidtz), a free-spirited Chicago art dealer in town to make contact with a reclusive eccentric (Frank Hoyt Taylor) known for Civil War paintings, seizing the chance to meet her husband’s family.

            Madeleine steps into the Johnsten household like a being from another world and, indeed, she is. Her home are the art galleries of Chicago and the tiny paint-covered studios of the artists she pursues. Having spent her life in three continents, her perspective is wider than most and has learned to approach people on their own terms. Hence, her marriage to George is not that difficult to understand, especially considering that George has detached himself from where he came from.

            They meet at an art auction as the movie opens and she is drawn to his uniqueness and the sense of liberation he carries with him after his escape. Madeleine knows only that he comes from a small town in North Carolina, but has little interest in traveling there until she hears of local hermit and his surreal Civil War paintings. Madeleine likes George in the way that she could, theoretically, like anyone, she is intrigued by the enigma that he is. In six months they are married.

            One of the fundamental questions of Junebug is how her feelings for George change, if at all, when she discovers where he came from. It could be argued that when she first meets George’s family, Madeleine is simply reserving judgment. Everyone (Ma and Pa, Johnny, and Ashley) all seem a little odd in their own way, but she wants to give them a chance, though her patience is remarkable. Her empathy comes to a testing point as she helps Johnny with his book report on Huck Finn but, after a misunderstanding, the situation unexpectedly becomes a relief for Johnny. Discussing the novel’s theme of escape and freedom, Madeleine obviously can’t help but draw comparisons to George’s escape from the high tensions of his childhood home, a fact that begins to sink in after discussing the book. But the situation takes a different angle when the theme also strikes a chord with Johnny, who finds his chance to unleash his pent up resentment. He can never forgive his brother for leaving home, forgetting where he came from, and suddenly thinking he is better than his family. It is, of course, this very person George became that Madeleine fell for. The book report scene is the most crucial in the film as it is a wake up point for both Johnny and Madeleine that changes their perspective for good.

            Though Johnny may not know it, his resentment toward his brother is rooted in George’s successful escape from the fate that would have awaited him had he remained in North Carolina, a fate Johnny never had a chance to run from and is now cemented by Ashley’s pregnancy. Johnny scapegoats his future child but the truth is his future was secured long before. He never finished high school and his parents were never there for support. Johnny’s therapy is now to take out his anger on a society he thinks has kept him down. Naturally, he is at his best working with his peers who are on the same social and professional level as he. Notably, his outbursts usually occur when his inferiority complex is ignited by a seemingly trivial incident, such as using a VCR properly. How can he possibly think himself a capable father if he can’t even record a show for his wife? Of course, he doesn’t realize that Ashley is so happy to be starting a family that she is willing to put up with a lot, even if Johnny still can’t get over his brother having had a chance he did not.

            It would be easy to blame Peg, as Eugene is too submissive to have made much a difference for either son. But George transcended his childhood upbringing, escaped living the life Johnny lives and the one that befell his father, a man too scared to say a word to his own family. Together, the three Johnsten men represent a positive option (George), the turbulent option (Johnny), and the sad result of that turbulent option (Eugene).

            Interestingly, though, Peg’s disdain for Madeleine stems from her own inferiority complex. “She’s too smart,” she complains to her husband of her daughter-in-law, a criticism that seems hardly logical until we consider that Peg sees Madeleine as the sort of woman she could never be, open to a world she could never have.

            Peg cannot see that Madeleine also has her share of human shortcomings, which cause her some remorse later on. When the time comes for Ashley to give birth, Madeleine excuses herself from accompanying the family to the hospital in order to win back the artist who is swaying from the deal. She seems confident she is making the ethical choice and reminds George that closing the deal was the original purpose of their journey to North Carolina. George isn’t happy even if he knows how important the deal is to his wife.

            That the birth goes terribly wrong and Ashley miscarriages is not Madeleine’s fault, but it gives her enough doubt to regret her decision, even forgetting that she was successful in obtaining the artist’s signature on a contract. Her remorse is sincere because her regard for the Johnstens was genuine from the start.

            In truth, Madeleine brought some peace for the Johnstens. Ashley finds a friend she can look up to, Johnny was able to finally vent, hopefully saving him from a future as bleak as his father’s. A brief phone conversation Johnny has with Ashley as she recovers in the hospital gives some hope. A calmer, less angry Johnny comforts his wife and expresses his openness to trying to have a baby again, suggesting not only the fulfilment of Ashley’s wish but a rise in his self-esteem. Such changes may be too late for Eugene, but in Madeleine he finally finds someone with whom he can talk freely. Before leaving for Chicago, Madeleine digs up his lost screwdriver, ostensibly a minor act but something of a life-saver for a man whose only solace was his carpentry. Even Peg begrudgingly accepts Madeleine as part of the family, “she has good hands, I’ll give her that.”

            George sees this and is therefore willing to forgive his wife’s temporary lapse of judgment, their life together seeming secure as they head back home. His own moment of realization likely came the night before, when he was still hurt by Madeleine’s absence during his sister-in-law’s ordeal, an emotion expressed mostly through a lack of words, as he was seemingly making an effort not to communicate his anger, much like his brother. For the first time in Junebug there is no contrast between the bed life of Eugene and Peg and George and Madeleine. What earlier created a juxtaposition (the sexually active younger couple and the stale parents) are now virtually the same. If George saw the comparison, it’s no wonder he prevented his own marriage from heading in the same direction and made peace with his wife. And so their marriage was saved from the fate it could have shared with the older Johnstens.

            Junebug brings us into the tight world of a suburban family which, at first, startles us with their eccentricities until, as happens with Madeleine, we grow fond of them. Morrison allows us just enough time with them to watch their stories come full circle so that by the end we feel a sense of relief, having seen the problems of people we know well amended. His attention to each individual character is one of the advantages of working with material tailored for theater, where both location and cast can be shrunken down to one well-developed group.

            The greatest discovery in Junebug is Amy Adams who had started out in small parts before but proved her talent here, earning a string of awards (Critic’s Choice Award, Gotham Award, Independent Spirit Award, National Society of Film Critics, San Francisco Film Critics, Southeastern Film Critics Association, and Sundance Film Festival). Ashley may be her most poignant role, a woman whose constant happiness is sincere but a challenge to maintain, as it’s a response to lacking what she values most, a family. It was, however, only the beginning to a career that has racked an impressive number of awards for someone still so young. Junebug remains her best performance and she is, in many ways, the heart of the movie.