Ymir Fear in Roma

Every once in a while, you’ve got to relive your childhood. . . that came for me this past Saturday, when two of my friends contacted me and asked if I wanted to go see the new Pokémon movie. Always game for anything film related, my knowledge of the Pokémon franchise has not evolved (Pokémon pun intended) since the early 2000s – a time when every child, along with myself, was obsessed with the Gameboy games (colour coded Red, Blue, and later, Yellow) and the television series. Now, some twenty years later, Pokémon Detective Pikachu (2019) becomes the first live action film in this historic gaming/anime franchise. Directed by Rob Letterman, perhaps their wisest choice was casting Ryan Reynolds as the voice of one of the film’s leads, Pikachu – making this a PG-like version of Deadpool. Yet, I will warn you that this one is more for fans of the franchise than the average moviegoer (judging from its 170 million dollar opening weekend, there are clearly a lot of fans) – and, as attendees entered the theatre, they received a complimentary pack of Pokémon cards (a nice touch).

Thought I’d challenge myself a bit today – so while I review DC’s 2018 feature Aquaman, co-written and directed by James Wan, I’m going to try to tuck in numerous H2O related tunes that will aptly describe the mood and feelings of the characters or situation. Opening with the mythos behind the birth of the superhero, through random happenstance, a lighthouse keeper, Thomas Curry (Temuera Morrison), rescues a Queen, Atlanna (Nicole Kidman), who has washed ashore from the deep blue sea – a cosmic chance or fate bringing two wholly different individuals together. . . love at first sight.

A Christmas movie that is truly special has that moment. . . that specific sequence magically able to transcend the medium – enlivening our spirits, touching our hearts, rejuvenating the soul. . . a bell ringing – it giving an angel its wings; a humbug of a man able to get another chance at really living life; a family, despite all odds, getting home to their young son that has been left home alone; and, in today’s film, though the ending could arguably be it, a woman brings her newly adopted (orphaned) Dutch daughter to see Santa Claus at the mall, as the little girl truly believes she will be able to speak to him – her mother, knowing that he can’t speak the language, is gobsmacked when he starts to talk to her – bringing so much joy to her cherub-like face. Of course, you’ve probably guessed it, I am referencing George Seaton’s 1947 classic Miracle on 34th Street (he both writes and directs). After a drunk Santa is removed from his post during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade thanks to the complaint of Kris Kringle (Edmund Gwenn – winning an Oscar for the role), methodical event director Doris Walker (Maureen O’Hara) asks the man to don the suit – filmed during the actual parade.

Let’s face it. . . so much of a film is its characters – the way they are written, their likeability (or lack thereof), and, just as vitally, who is cast in those roles. If we can’t root for the heroes, hiss at the villains, be wary of those in the grey milieu, or find ourselves somewhere in that flawed antihero, then we cannot truly be emotionally invested in the narrative – no matter how majestic the whizzes and bangs are. So, like a large portion of my generation, I fell under the spell of the richly woven personas found in the Harry Potter novels. . . and later, the films. Soon, literature meshed with the visual world, and when people referenced someone like Severus Snape or Sirius Black, it was nearly impossible not to think of the late great Alan Rickman and the stellar Gary Oldman, respectively – the entire franchise a masterclass in casting.

Only the second feature film to be made by Disney (the first was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs), Pinocchio, released in 1940, was, shockingly, a failure at the box office (partially due to distribution problems relating to World War II). . . though, after many re-releases, including the highly successful 1945 venture, it flourished. A complex and influential undertaking, it took five sequence directors (Norman Ferguson, T. Lee, Wilfred Jackson, Jack Kinney, and Bill Roberts), two supervising directors (Hamilton Luske and Ben Sharpsteen), and a mind-boggling seven writers (Ted Sears, Otto Englander, Webb Smith, William Cottrell, Joseph Sabo, Erdman Penner, and Aurelius Battaglia), as well as uncredited scribe Bill Peet to bring Carlo Lorenzini’s (better known by nom de plume Carlo Collodi) fairy tale, “The Adventures of Pinocchio”, to life.