By 2011, the fortunes of Disney and Pixar were reversing; while the former had finally scored a critical and commercial success with Tangled, the latter was navigating the second phase of its career after moving past its original stories with the final installment of the Toy Story trilogy. Disney released one movie that year — the small-scale, gentle Winnie the Pooh in July — while Pixar served up Cars 2 in June. The next year, they released the troubled production Brave that same month. While none of these films are golden, especially considering the work the studios had done in the recent past, they’re not bad.
Cars 2 (2011)
Cars 2 is better than its predecessor because it feels like Pixar made the choice to be really creative with its universe. Most of the film is baffling — every scene feels like it answers a question about the setting while simultaneously opening up a ton more questions. What qualifies as a sexual characteristic for a car beyond eyelashes and full lips? How do cars get modified, or have their tires changed? Does it hurt? Do they have nerves, or internal organs, or is the body their skin? How does any of this work??
These questions are so much more maddening because the movie is so much more engaging than the first. Pixar uses the opportunity to take its characters to a wide range of different locations, which allows them to play with so many different lighting effects, environments and road conditions. In the original it was a little easier to accept the world because it seemed so small; in the sequel, with Lightning McQueen and crew traveling all around the world, there are so many more opportunities for questions to pop up.
The crew also meets international racing cars with vastly different bodies, stretching the design choices for the characters in interesting ways. There’s even a scene where cars go to an underground mod shop — obviously where rejected early designs are shown off to see exactly why the cars don’t have their eyes on their headlights. Admittedly, it’s pretty creepy-looking; windshield eyes aren’t the obvious choice when you’re thinking about anthropomorphic cars, but fair point, Pixar — it’s the right one.
It’s clear that this renewed emphasis on world-building rides on the back of the story, which isn’t that great. Mater, the best friend of renowned racer Lightning McQueen, basically signs up the race car for the World Grand Prix, a brand-new event meant to introduce the world to the alternative fuel Allinol. However, there’s some kind of sabotage plot going down to discredit the fuel and return the world to fossil fuels, and Mater gets caught up in the espionage investigation to figure out who’s blowing up cars and why. Imagine a John Le Carre novel, only with talking cars and Larry the Cable Guy as your main character.
Mater might be the protagonist, but Lightning McQueen is the person (car?) that gets the narrative arc. At first he’s embarrassed by Mater’s uncultured behavior among his high-class international friends, but over time he learns to appreciate the inherent goodness within his unsophisticated friend. While this is definitely a good lesson to learn, it would have been nice to see Mater develop as well; he is, after all, a tow truck that has never been outside of Radiator Springs. Instead of telling us — for the umpteenth time — that country values are just as great as anything else, it would have been nice to see that cultural shift run both ways. There are worthwhile aspects of the urbane mindset, like an appreciation of the new and different, or a sensitivity for different cultures.
Still, it was hard for me to be too upset with the movie. For all of his cringe-worthy goofiness, Mater is basically a good egg with an earnest desire to help at every turn. He’s enthusiastic and friendly, and incredibly accepting. That good-natured soul covers a multitude of sins for me, even though I realize it might not be the same for most people. If Mater grated on you in the first Cars, there’s almost no way you could enjoy Cars 2 — it doubles down on the tow truck, elevating him from sidekick to star.
And if you’re willing to overlook that, Cars 2 might be entertaining in its own right. Obviously kids will love the film, but adults might be driven enjoyably crazy trying to figure out the inner workings of the world or be impressed with the way the studio has improved its animation from the last outing. It’s certainly one of the minor Pixar outings, but that’s still better than most.
Winnie the Pooh (2011)
Like most rabbits in my age group, I grew up on the truly excellent Saturday-morning Winnie-the-Pooh series and that’s my biggest relationship with the franchise. The adaptation or “package film” from 1977, The Many Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh, was pretty enjoyable, but in a lot of ways it felt like a prototype for the kinds of stories they told through the series. If you’re like me, then the thought of a brand-new hand-drawn Winnie-the-Pooh movie is exciting, a nostalgia bomb waiting to happen. Maybe it’s the attempts to update the format for Pooh, or the largely different voice cast, or the fact that I’VE changed, but this doesn’t feel like the Pooh I grew up with — and that’s neither bad nor good, but it’s there.
One of the strongest features of this attempt to update Pooh for a new audience is the animation. The hand-drawn character work is warm and charming, fluid and polished without seeming too sterile. There are little touches that give all the characters a sense of weight and texture, that deepens our involvement in the world. That solid foundation allows the animators to play around with a few new ideas that mostly work — most of the action takes place within the frame of illustrations for a children’s book, and Pooh and the gang regularly break the fourth wall by interacting with the text of the book itself. It’s an elegant and clever turn that heightens the humor and creativity really well.
The plot is woven by three separate stories adapted from Milne — Pooh running out of honey and heading off in search of it; a wood-wide panic brought about by Chrisopher Robin’s note and the fear of a mysterious creature called the “Backson”; and the gang (especially Tigger) helping Eeyore with his lost tail. The three subplots fade into one another fairly smoothly, but they also require the characters to behave in ways we’re not quite used to seeing them. They’re dimmer, for example, to the point that it feels like they’re forced to be obtuse for the sake of the (admittedly funny) complications that come from misunderstandings. Owl gets significantly more screen-time, relegating folks like Rabbit and Piglet to tag-alongs, while Eeyore and Tigger actually make for an engaging pair.
All in all, though, it’s just strange to see different characters embodying the toys we know so well. It feels like the writers missed some essential je ne sais quoi that makes Pooh so endearing; in updating the characters for a new generation, something gets left out that I can’t quite put my finger on. It was a notable distraction through most of the film’s 70-minute run time, and by the time I’ve settled in to what this movie actually is — it’s over. I suspect that this one is geared towards an even younger audience than I was when I caught the Saturday morning show (eight years old, by the way), so perhaps there’s just less there for me.
If you’re less attached to Winnie-the-Pooh-based nostalgia, this is worth it just for the hand-drawn animation alone. The story is clever and funny, the look is bright and sunny, and overall it’s an enjoyable way to spend an hour. Still, I’m not entirely sure this is a movie for anyone but completionists or true fans, which is a shame. Pooh is great, and it’d be awesome to go back to the Hundred-Acre Wood again.
This was announced with the title The Bear and the Bow with great fanfare for Brenda Chapman, the first woman to direct a Pixar film. It took years for the final product to arrive in theatres, with Chapman removed from the project so Mark Andrews could finish the project. Despite being pulled for “creative differences”, Chapman says that the film executed on her vision and she’s proud of the way it turned out. I’m not sure if that’s putting on a good face or what, but I think about this whenever I think about Brave. Even though a lot of Disney and Pixar projects have had troubled productions, this is the first one where it feels like the seams in the story show.
Not that Brave isn’t a good movie; it’s fine. The animation in particular is wonderful to behold — the landscapes of an ancient, mythical Scotland lend the entire film the gorgeous fairy-tale aesthetic it was going for. The characters themselves are more exaggerated but in a way that doesn’t conflict with the more realistic background; it feels like they inhabit this world instead of performing in it. Again, light and water are really impressive here, and one stand-out sequence of Merida fishing with her mother really underscores how far Pixar had come with fur and environmental textures.
Wait, fur? Yeah, Merida’s mother is turned into a bear by accident. And since bears are nature’s perfect creatures, you’d think I’d be all in on this story. There are a lot of good scenes where Chapman and Andrews get comedic mileage out of juxtaposing the prim and proper habits of Queen Elinor with the shaggy, clumsy bulk of being a bear. Mor’du, the legendary demon-bear, is an extraordinarily impressive sight, every bit the terrifying supernatural villain he should be. But there’s something about the film that doesn’t quite add up, that doesn’t really connect Merida to the audience.
Merida is forced to choose between the oldest sons of three allied clans for marriage, but she really doesn’t want to. That’s the catalyst for the story; Merida asking an old witch in a hut for a potion that would change her mother into someone who could understand her. The parallel for this is the myth of Mor’du, the jealous eldest son of an ancient king who decided to split his kingdom among all four of his sons. Mor’du decided that he would fight for the kingdom, and asked a witch for the strength of ten men. Naturally, she turned him into a bear. Mindless but terrible, Mor’du stalks the woods with but a shadow of his human intellect.
Merida’s lesson doesn’t quite scan with the tale of Mor’du, though the structure of the story wants us to think it does. Wanting more than your fair share of a kingdom doesn’t equate to not wanting to be forced into marriage, yet Merida has to learn the lesson that giving up her life to prevent war amongst the clans is the way to go. Her mother, Queen Elinor, encourages her to establish her own timetable for marriage instead.
The arc of her lesson undercuts what makes Merida such a worthy addition to Disney’s Princess canon. She is headstrong but kind, passionate and resourceful. Forcing her to temper that willful spirit in order to satisfy societal demands that we’d never agree with anyway feels off; it’s like the movie is gently chastising us for wanting to march to the beat of our own drum. Elinor eventually learns to appreciate and respect her daughter’s wishes, but the movie treats this as a secondary revelation.
Shifting protagonists can be a tricky thing, especially if remnants of the previous narrative arc are kept in the film. I can’t say for sure that’s what happened here, but with the change in directors it feels like there are artifacts of a previous draft inhabiting the skeleton of the story that made it to the screen. Because of that, the journey of Merida and Elinor is muddied and confused more than it should be — and that means we’re never quite sure where we’re supposed to stand with either of them.
That’s a shame, because if it weren’t for that fundamental flaw Brave would be a fun, beautiful movie. As it stands, it’s one that always feels like it’s not quite comfortable with itself — and that means we aren’t able to get comfortable with it either.