REVIEWING CLASSICS: The Many Hybrids of "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"

Animation, in and of itself, is an incredible, painstaking, and inspiring process of bringing two-dimensional (or, by today's standards, three-dimensional) characters and worlds to life. And it certainly has more than a century in sharing the silver screen with live-action, whether in a real-world setting or with real actors/characters.

Disney had achieved this feat with such films as the original "Alice Adventures" in the 1920s, followed by Song of the South (1946), Mary Poppins (1964), and Pete's Dragon (1977), as a few notable examples. And then there's Gene Kelly's ever-popular dance with Jerry the Mouse in the classic MGM short from 1944.

Of course, this hybrid between both mediums has been done so often--especially in this day and age of digital computers and CGI action extravaganzas involving giant robots, superheroes, and goofy minions--that many forget (or may not even know) that there was once a time where cell drawings were the norm, and by sharing the screen with live actors and environments was a rare yet amazing achievement. Especially if it was done right. In other words, by really convincing audiences that both the characters and/or the worlds were occupying the same space, was there the suspension of disbelief. And perhaps the most extraordinary example of this classic hybrid is the 1988 feature film, Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

The film was directed by Robert Zemeckis (1985's Back to the Future) and executive produced by Steven Spielberg (a lifelong fan of animation) through his company, Amblin Entertainment. The animation itself was directed by veteran Richard Williams, who sought out to break several rules associated with combining animation and live-action: moving the camera around as much as possible, having cartoons interact with real objects and people as much as possible, and including lighting and shadows that had never been achieved to such an extreme (more on the latter two later). The resulting film is a hybrid of elements that had never been achieved before. Not just animation and live-action, but also special effects in a period film noir setting, and animation that echoed a classic Disney style (and the film was distributed by the Walt Disney Studio), characterizations that echoed Warner Brothers, and off-the-wall humor that echoed Tex Avery cartoons.

Executive producer Steven Spielberg and director Robert Zemeckis behind the scenes

Set in Hollywood in 1947, in a world where human beings and cartoons (or, "Toons," as they're called here) co-exist, down-on-his luck private eye Eddie Valiant (Bob Hoskins) is hired by studio mogul R.K. Maroon to investigate some reported funny business between Toontown owner Marvin Acme and femme fetale Jessica Rabbit, wife of Maroon cartoon star, Roger Rabbit. When Acme is discovered murdered, all the evidence points to Roger, who begs the cynical and Toon-hating detective to bring the real evildoer to justice and clear Roger's name.

Between the opening Roger Rabbit-Baby Herman cartoon, (a high mark in visually insane comedy) and Roger in Eddie's apartment, the film takes its time and feels like a different movie. However, that time does allow audiences to get to know some of the important characters and situations about to be unfolded. Roger may be the title star and the driving force here, but it's really the Hoskins' Valiant who's arguably the central character arc, and who guides the emotional journey of the story the most. His character was once a Toon lover, until a traumatic incident cost him a close relative, and his sense of humor. Now, he's an alcoholic and a cynic with complicated relationships, including his estranged girlfriend, a bartender.

The first scene in Eddie's apartment, for instance, is a great showcase for the writing, directing, and staging of a character's time span from who they were to who they are now (sort of similar to what Zemeckis did with the opening shot of Back to the Future). The storytelling here is wordless yet emotional, and the aforementioned tragic incident is later spoken while two characters are sitting in a movie theater. Hoskins (who passed away in 2014) played Eddie brilliantly, along with how he interacted with initially invisible characters, complete with excellent eye-lining, during production, save for a rabbit-costumed Charles Fleischer (who voiced Roger) on set.

Roger himself is a wacky and zany character, whose purpose, as he claims, "is to make people laugh." (This is, in fact, the reason his wife Jessica fell for him.) Williams has stated Roger is a combination of various cartoon character aspects (such as Goofy's pants and Porky Pig's bow tie), yet stands as his own, especially with his trademark speech impediment ("Ppppppplease.")

Animation director Richard Williams behind the scenes

One could argue that this is the story of a man rediscovering who he used to be, his faith in Toons and in what they represent, by way of solving a murder case (and stop a deadly plan to put an end to the existence of all cartoons). It should be noted that this film was released during the transition from Disney's dark period (which arguably ended in the mid-80s) to its animation rennaisance (late 80s to early 90s hits after hits), and was reportedly responsible, in part, for reviving critics' and audiences' interest in the medium and the craft. Its comedy was a huge asset to that as well. As Roger says in the film, "A laugh can be a very powerful thing. Why, sometimes in life, it's the only weapon we have." Roger Rabbit also had the longest closing credits in film history at the time.

I'll reiterate, as many can attest here. The animation with live-action in Who Framed Roger Rabbit is phenomenal and unparalleled, and represented a landmark in motion pictures. All animation (save for three shots of stop-motion effects) was hand-drawn and required not just flat drawings, but also shadow effects, lighting accuracy effects, and optical effects to give each character a three-dimensional look, while retaining a classic mid-20th Century feel.

A great example of these combined effects is the scene where Eddie is trying to saw a pair of handcuffs off him and Roger in the back of a local bar, after accidentally bumping into a lamp. The term "bumping the lamp" was created during the making of Roger Rabbit, and it refers to animators who went above and beyond what was expected in the medium, just to make certain moments feel extra special, even though most viewers probably wouldn't notice them.

And then there are the many unique mechanical devices that mimiced various character actions, whether it was villanous weasels carrying guns, Baby Herman smoking and gesturing with a cigar, or Roger smashing plates onto his head one by one. It's one thing for real actors to pick up animated props (like a boxing-glove hammer), but it's entirely another for cartoons to do the same thing with real objects. No computers were used for any of these effects, and the film is all the richer and idiosyncratic for it. Plus, it makes the film representative of the late-40s setting. The transition between the opening cartoon and the Hollywood set is a case in point, like a PG-version of going into Oz.

Bob Hoskins side-by-side with his animated co-star,
after "bumping the lamp"

Spielberg's most amazing contribution, perhaps, was convincing several animated studios to loan out their cartoon stars for cameo appearances, and for good trivial fun. In fact, this was the first and only time that characters from Disney and Warner Bros have been in the same movie. Remember Donald Duck and Daffy Duck's piano duet in the Ink & Paint Club, or Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny sky-diving together? Or how about Eddie's first walk through the Maroon cartoon studio as he passes "half the cast of Fantasia"?

This is all great news, in terms of keeping the craft and creativity of the animation medium alive. However, when it comes to "family" entertainment in retrospect, this is a film parents of young children ought to think twice about.

Sure, the movie's funny, clever, and imaginative, especially for cinephiles and animation geeks (like I am). And even though film critic Leonard Maltin once wrote that the film's true high mark was "making us believe that Roger and his cartoon colleagues actually exist," don't let Who Framed Roger Rabbit make you believe it's appropriate for children. The film noir atmosphere makes it equally thrilling, bizarre, sometimes unpleasant, and provocatively sexual. Jessica, for one, with her revealing and exaggerated wardrobe and bosom, is unfortunately made a figure of unnecessary objectification. And Baby Herman, to be candid, can be misogynistic.

This was also one of several 80s films marketed to children and families that included dark, sinister, and even nightmarish elements. (Remember Large Marge from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, or the green creatures from Gremlins?) Here, veteran character actor Christopher "Doc Brown" Lloyd (as Judge Doom, menacing and sinister a character as he can be) revealed a frightening character revelation in the climax that traumatized me as a child, and still does to this day. And although composer Alan Silvestri created an equally unparalleled score, it's a bizarre, wacky, often twisted one, combining film noir and cartoon music. (Zemeckis has had a reputation for dark comedy, to be sure, and went on to executive producer "Tales From the Crypt" for TV.)

One would wonder how the writers and filmmakers got away with, as Eddie calls, "a story of greed, sex, and murder" in a PG-rated film. "It was the 80s," joked Zemeckis at a 2013 Q&A/cast and crew reunion. Michael Eisner (one of the heads of Disney at the time) considered the film "too risque" to be released under the Disney label, that they released it under their more adult-oriented Touchstone Pictures banner. At least the three spin-off Roger Rabbit shorts (1989's Tummy Trouble, 1990's Roller Coaster Rabbit, and 1993's Trail Mix-Up) were less problematic, and the quality of animation, especially at Disney, continued to rapidly grow for kids and adults. Like the wall that breaks between both the real world and the Toon world at the end of the film, there was hope for the medium, for other characters and stories to captivate and humor audiences beyond just pencil drawings. If only they could do that again today like they did then, but for more of a universal audience.

REVIEWS: The "Wonder" Year or, Ground Control to Major Tom

Wonder Woman wasn't the only film released in 2017 with the world "wonder" in it. And Lego Batman, Ferdinand, and My Little Pony (to name a few) haven't been the only "family" movies released the same year. Furthermore, it's very easy to forget that there's more to "family entertainment" than just cartoons.

Two live-action 2017 films (courtesy directors Todd Haynes and Stephen Chbosky, respectfully) were both based on bestselling novels. They each feature stories of young adults who may not have superpowers (although one does imagine he's a spaceman or a Star Wars character), but they have determination, real human empathy, and a desire to, shall we say, "reach for the stars," which is very rare, even in live-action movies these days. (Or maybe they just don't make enough of them lately.) Did I mention that both films include references to David Bowie's "Space Oddity"?

Oakes Fedley in Wonderstruck

Wonderstruck
Upon finishing Brian Selznick's amazing, illustrated bestselling novel from 2011, Wonderstruck, I decided not to see any previews or photos from Haynes' big screen adaptation. For one, I wanted to maintain that same sense of amazement, excitement and, of course, wonder, from when I read the book, especially when it got into the climax. Selznick's novel tells the stories of two deaf children--one told in words, set in the late-Seventies; the other, told in pictures, set in the late-Twenties--, their journeys to find something greater than themselves, and how their stories (set half a century apart) intersect unexpectedly.

The former story centers on Gunflint, Minnesota, resident Ben, who lost his mother in a car accident recently and now lives with his aunt and uncle and cousins. Fascinated by astrology (his mother loved Bowie's aforementioned classic track) and curating (he wonders about an Oscar Wilde quote his mother once had framed), he searches through some things in his old house next door one stormy night and stumbles upon a bookmark he believes to be a clue to the father he never knew. While trying to call the number on the bookmark, lightning strikes through the phone and Ben eventually becomes deaf. He soon sets out to New York in search of his father, and perhaps something more.

The latter story centers on New Jersey native, Rose, a deaf girl who has a knack for making paper buildings, and running to the local cinema to see the latest silent film release. She hates her home life, her stern father, and her books on sign language. She dreams of running away to New York and following in the footsteps of a famous actress (a "star," in her own way). She keeps a scrapbook of such newspaper clippings.

Millicent Simmonds in Wonderstruck

Both stories deal with two "curators"--one who collects various things, while the other builds paper cities. Both reach for the stars, like constellations (explaining why they're both drawn to a meteorite in the Museum of Natural History), and they even find new journeys that are just as "electrifying," even when initial dreams can feel lost, as they can be in everyday life. It's also a story of two outcasts who can't communicate other than through written words or body language, and who deal with childhood angst and wanting to belong somewhere. The aforementioned Wilde quote reads, "We are all in the gutter, but only some of us can see the stars."

The way that both stories lead to the aforementioned Museum, with an attraction called the "Cabinet of Wonders," is one thing. The same goes for the back-and-forth parallels between both time periods (which can be a tad much at times, like a few too many cliffhangers). But the way these narratives pay tribute to (and respect) the deaf community is remarkable. And it's a credit to Selznick (who also wrote the screenplay, as well as the original novel "The Invention of Hugo Cabret"), Haynes, composer Carter Burwell, actresses Julianne Moore and Michelle Williams, up-and-comer Oakes Fedley (Pete's Dragon), and newcomer Millicent Simmonds (deaf in real life), for their contributions to it.

Although I prefer the book, the film does stand on its own very well. Part period piece and part silent film, Wonderstruck is visual poetry and reminds us of the power of cinema and pictures to tell a story. The overall effect is nothing short of remarkable and, yes, wonderful.

Jacob Tremblay and Julia Roberts in Wonder

Wonder
Based on the bestselling novel by R.J. Palacio, Wonder is about a young boy with a facial disorder, who goes to a public school for the first time. And as opposed to paying homage to cinema and the deaf community as Wonderstruck did, this story pays tribute to a different community of individuals and social "outcasts," and celebrates the #choosekind movement that everybody and anybody can choose to be a part of, without getting too preachy.

"I know I'm not an ordinary kid," says the titular Auggie Pullman, whose facial scars have been the result of over twenty hospital surgeries since he was born. Said hospital visits have helped Auggie to eat, breath, and try to live as normal a life a possible. And yet, he prefers wearing his space helmet to escape the potential harsh realities that are out in the outside world.

Julia Roberts and Owen Wilson play the parents of Jacob Tremblay's Auggie (who resembles a young Eric Stoltz from Mask). Mom Isabel (who calls Auggie a "wonder") has homeschooled him for so long, that she believes it's time he gets out into the world and experience life on his own, despite doubts from dad Nate. It's clear both parents and older sister Via (Izabela Vidovic) try to prepare him for school in advance. And though he's invited by the school principle (Mandy Patinkin) to take a tour with current students, it's clear most of the students initially just show up to "play nice." The story that follows tells shows how they really feel, or how they begin to feel, about Auggie. Kids and even adults are, after all, different--and even good--at masking their true feelings. "I can't wait until Halloween," yearns Auggie.

(l-r) Jacob Tremblay, Julia Roberts, Owen Wilson,
Izabela Vidovic, and Danielle Rose Russell in Wonder

The film mostly avoids the cliches of similar coming-of-age stories involving certain outcasts, and allows its sentimentality to be understood and earned, not forced. One such element is the likelihood of friendship betrayals, such as when Auggie hears who he thought was his best friend foolishly talk behind his back, potentially because of classmates' peer pressure, or possibly the fear of being hated or embarrassed, or losing a reputation. ("You're not the only one with bad days," Via tells Auggie.) What's even more challenging (and sad) is how adults can be just as insensitive. For other parents, however (Auggie's, in particular), the lesson they have to take to heart is that their children will need to get out into the world, sooner or later, and experience and grow in all the things that come with it. These un-sugarcoated elements get to the heart of people, why they do what they do, or what influences them to change (or not to), to make the choice to be kind over prejudice.

Wonder brilliantly makes the bold choice to show not just Auggie's story, both the stories of those he impacts: his sister Via, who feels neglected by her parents because of Auggie ("My mom and dad and I are all planets orbiting the sun [or, son]"); his new friend Jack Will, who, at first, helped Auggie for his mom's sake but then grew to like him as a friend; and Via's estranged friend Miranda, who considers the Pullmans a second family from her own divorced family. Even the family dog, Daisy, who was there for Auggie after each of his hospital visits, is given a bit of limelight. ("Real friends are hard to find," Auggie says of her.) What's great about Roberts and Wilson's involvement, for one, is you don't even consider their star power. They are their characters.

The advice that Auggie receives throughout the story may sound preachy to some. "If you don't like who you are, just picture who you want to be," says Nate. "You can't blend in when you were born to stand out," says Via, who also informs Auggie that "there's nothing we can do about other people but ourselves." Says Isabel, pointing to her face, "This is the map that shows us where we've been, and [pointing to her heart] this is the map that shows us where we're going." It's a credit to director/co-writer Stephen Chbosky (who also wrote and directed The Perks of Being a Wallflower) and co-writers Steve Conrad and Jack Thorne, who handle the material with care by (again) not sugarcoating it, but really grounding it in reality. Teacher Mr. Browne (Daveed Diggs)'s class precepts, for instance, speak to all kinds of kids and adults, and not just those with disabilities, which inspires classmate and new friend Summer (Millie Davis). "I want some nice friends for a change," she states. With all the hatred and cynicism currently going on in the world currently, this story and movie is what audiences (especially families) may want and need, too.

Jacob Tremblay in Wonder

REVIEWING CLASSICS: "Well, it's 'Groundhog Day'. Again."

Holidays, both national and general, have become synonymous with certain movies, and not just in and of themselves and their respective traditions. Said films or specials have even become traditions year after year. For Halloween, many hold It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (1966) above other fright-fest features often associated with pumpkin-carving and costume-wearing. For Thanksgiving, there's John Hughes' Planes, Trains, & Automobiles (1987), where Steve Martin's impatient Neil Page is forced to share a road trip with John Candy's slobby-but-warm Del Griffith. And don't get me started on the countless Christmas movies that are watched annually, from A Christmas Story (1983) to National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (1989) and, of course, It's a Wonderful Life (1946). Even late director Garry Marshall's last three films were about annual holidays and events.

This year marks twenty five years since the release of the Harold Ramis-directed Bill Murray vehicle, Groundhog Day (1993), a high-concept, philosophical comedy about a cynical weatherman who gets stuck in a small town--and an unexplained time loop--and keeps living the same day over and over and over again.

Travelling to Punxsutawney, PA, to cover the Groundhog Day festivities with producing partner Rita (Andie McDowell) and cameraman Larry (Chris Elliott), weatherman Phil Connors (Murray) just wants to leave town, only to be trapped by a blizzard he failed to predict. (Ironic, right?) Waking up on February 2nd at 6:00 am to Sonny & Cher's "I Got You, Babe," certain things start to take place. An old classmate stops Phil in the street to sell insurance. Phil steps in a giant puddle on the street corner. He visits a diner later in the day where a waiter accidentally drops a tray of dishes, and so on. The next morning, however, Phil gets confused. The same song plays on the radio, as does the same broadcast. The weather looks as it did the day before. He runs into the same classmate and the same puddle. And on it goes. It's as if he's in an episode of "The Twilight Zone". But by Day 3, he becomes really stressed. Furthermore, Rita doesn't believe his predicament, and the local neurologist and psychiatrist don't seem to be much help neither.

Venting his melancholy at a bar with two other patrons, Phil wonders, "What would you do if you were stuck in one place and everyday was the same, and nothing that you did mattered?" The patron's response: "That about sums it up for me." Eventually, Phil figures since he's apparently trapped without a certain tomorrow, he could do anything without any consequences.

By Day 4, he starts acting so cynical and egocentric that he even eats like a glutton. "What makes you so special?" argues Rita, who refuses to believe Phil is acting and living without a care in the world, "Everybody worries about something." She even goes so far as to call Phil's egotism his "defining characteristic." One of his other acts for the time being involves meeting up with various women, including an old high school classmate, whom he tries to take advantage of (clearly not knowing what real love is).

By this point, anyone who hasn't seen this film may think the repetition of the same day, events and circumstances, becomes tiring. The genius of the script by Ramis and Danny Rubin, however, is that while each day is replayed, it's seen slightly different based on Phil's view, even based on what time of the day it is. One of these days (replays, rather), he speaks like he's directing the events unfolding, decides to steal bank money and buys an an expensive car for a movie night (with a new date). Everybody does the same thing, of course, but not Phil. More specifically, the things that change are his influences on the day, for better or worse. (Other movies have used this same formula since this films release, including the Adam Sandler-Drew Barrymore comedy 50 First Dates (2004), the sci-fi action-thrillers Source Code (2011) and Edge of Tomorrow (2014), and the recent horror-thriller Happy Death Day (2017), but not to the same level of fresh avail that Murray, Rubin and Ramis reached with it.)

Then, Phil turns to Rita. He asks her what she wants out of life, as if she had one day to do it. She asks him the same thing. He decides he wants to get to know Rita more, what she's looking for, including the "perfect guy." His many opportunities to get to know Rita--and to try and be better--over and over seem to mirror our own fallen or failing nature, and our need to be better people. (It's interesting that the film's trailers seemed to emphasis this romance notion, leading viewers to believe the film was going to be a romantic comedy.) Phil may think he knows Rita, but he really doesn't. (Not yet, at least.)

The parallels between Phil and groundhog "Punxsutawney Phil"s, considering the aforementioned loop, start to come into play as the story goes on. There are the themes of predictions, expectations, and things turning out not as people planned or hoped, no matter how hard we try. Rita is wise enough to see through to Phil and his feeble attempts, which result in slaps in the face. ("Is this what love is for you?") The moral here: love and sex are not the same thing.

Phil eventually sinks into depression, venting angrily at everyone around him, believing there is no way out of his situation. (The slow-motion shot of the alarm clock switching from 5:59 to 6:00 is loud and profound.) "As long as this groundhog sees his shadow, we'll be stuck in winter. And I have to stop him." He tries to end the cycle on his own terms, such as breaking the alarm clock several times, and even tries to kill himself in a dark montage (driving off a cliff with "Punxsutawney Phil" in their only scene together, putting a hot toaster in a bathtub, stepping in front of a bus, and jumping off a building). I have a general view on the theme of suicide, that it is not, nor should it be, funny. In the case of Groundhog Day, there seems to be a real sense of gloom to this montage, especially the latter moment with the building.

Thankfully, the story and movie doesn't end there.

From the next time in the diner, the story takes a different turn, and one for the better. After eventually (and genuinely) convincing Rita, she decides to spend the rest of the (current) day with him, though Phil knows she won't remember anything the next day. From here, Phil really starts to change, and becomes more understanding. He realizes he cannot change the circumstances around him, although he can have an effect on them. He can only (and must first) change himself.

He begins to do unto others, such as buying his colleagues coffee and Danish, taking piano lessons, learning how to ice sculpt, and even helping a homeless (and dying) man.

Illustrating the value of community, Phil, in a way, becomes something of a local town hero. "No matter what happens tomorrow, or the rest of my life," he tells Rita later, "right now I'm happy, because I love you." The late Roger Ebert noted and claimed, regarding the earlier scene between Phil and Rita in the diner (as he tells her, "When you stand in the snow, you look like an angel"), that Phil hasn't learned to love Rita, but that "he has learned to see the angel."

Ramis (who passed away in February 2014) said of the film's moral, "If you change one thing in your own life, everything could change." Well done for a now-revered, classic "holiday" film that handles its respective themes (including subtle spiritual elements) very well, not to mention its balancing of comedy and genuine drama.