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Turning Red (2022)   Those wags at Pixar, eh? Yes, the most – actually, the only – impressive thing about Turning Red is the four-tiered wordplay of its title. Thirteen-year-old Mei (Rosalie Chiang) finds herself turning into a large red panda at emotive moments. She is also, simultaneously, riding the crimson wave for the first time. Further, as a teenager, she characteristically suffers from acute embarrassment (mostly due to the actions of her domineering mother Ming Lee, voiced by Sandra Oh). And finally, of course, Turning Red can be seen diligently spreading communist doctrine left, right and centre. To any political sensibility tuning in

The Mitchells vs. the Machines (2021)   “The Mitchells have always been weird, and that’s what makes us great.” Actually, no. The Mitchells represent your standardised, homogenised, Hollywood approximation of the family, one comprising the aspergic son (cause unknown, but if you suggest one, be prepared to lose your medical licence), LGBTQ+ gender-fluid daughter (visually coded, but only obliquely referenced, yet sufficient to pounce on as a progressive and ground-breaking triumph), wise mom (with a preference to revealing her as hero figure because female) and remote, decontextualised father (because irrelevant white male authority figure who needs to learn his place).

Encanto (2021)   By my estimation, Disney brand pictures are currently edging ahead of the Pixars. Not that there’s a whole lot in it, since neither have been at full wattage for a few years now. Raya and the Last Dragon and now Encanto are collectively just about superior to Soul and Luca. Generally, the animation arm’s attempts to take in as much cultural representation as they possibly can, to make up for their historic lack of woke quotas, has – ironically – had the effect of homogenising the product to whole new levels. So here we have Colombia, renowned the world over for the US’s benign intervention in

The Black Cauldron (1985)   Dark Disney? I guess… Kind of. I don’t think I ever got round to seeing this previously. The Fox and the Hound, sure. Basil the Great Mouse Detective, most certainly. Even Oliver and Company, so I wasn’t that selective. But I must have missed The Black Cauldron, the one that nearly broke Disney, for the same reason everyone else did. But what reason was that? Perhaps nothing leaping out about it, when the same summer, kids could see The Goonies, or Back to the Future, or Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. The Black Cauldron seemed like a soup of other, better-executed ideas and past Disney movies,

Over the Moon (2020)   What the hell is this turgid piffle? The type that somehow musters Oscar nominations for Best Animated Feature, it seems. Here we find Netflix with one eye on the future, nursing dreams of further – yes, further! – avarice. Because this is a Chinese co-production. You know, Netflix which isn’t available there. Likely because the maker of Cuties is rightly regarded as a corrupting influence. Or because China took a look at their output and decided (rightly again) they aren’t missing out. Besides, with a transhumanist communist utopia on the horizon, why even bother? Soon all the

Onward (2020)   Pixar’s Bright, or thereabouts. The interesting thing – perhaps the only interesting thing – about Onward is that it’s almost indiscernible from a DreamWorks Animation effort, where once they cocked a snook at such cheap-seats fare, seeing themselves as better class of animation house altogether. Just about everything in Onward is shamelessly derivative, from the Harry Potter/fantasy genre cash-in to the use of the standard Pixar formula whereby any scenario remotely eccentric or exotic is buried beneath the banal signifiers of modern society: because anything you can imagine must be dragged down to tangible everyday reference points or kids won’t be able to

Soul (2020)   Pete Docter was doubtless aware that, with a title this presumptive, Soul was asking to be written off with “It ain’t got none”. But he probably also knew that, excepting something going fascinatingly wrong – The Good Dinosaur – Pixar movies tend to get a free pass, from critics and audiences alike. And Docter, responsible for telling kids it’s good to be scared so that benign invisible monsters can feed off their loosh, or – hey, why not, if it’ll make them feel better about it – their laughter, is guilty of the same plodding literalism of all Pixar pictures. It’s

The Emperor’s New Groove (2000)   Perhaps more Disney fare should be borne of desperation, if this is the result. The Emperor’s New Groove came as a breath of fresh air after all those overly sincere, straight-arrow Disney Renaissance flicks (with the honourable exception of Hercules, but even then, its distinction is based more on Gerald Scarfe’s input than ingrained irreverence). You know, the ones with the perverse subliminal imagery the Mouse House claimed was an accident. Emperor’s New Groove is remarkably cohesive in style and tone, all the more of a miracle given its production history. It’s the most fun you’ll have with

The Grinch (2018)   A pot-bellied (okay, fat) curmudgeon with a twisted sense of humour and unruly hair attempting to destroy Christmas for everyone? Never has the noxious notion had more resonance. Actually, the nightmarishly unpleasant and saccharine 2000 Jim Carrey incarnation probably bears more resemblance to How the Boris Stole Christmas! But the subtitle And Didn’t Put It Back Again at the Behest of His Masters, the Elite, as Part of Their Plan to Cull, Sterilise and Reset the Entire Global Population doesn’t quite fit Dr Seuss’ tale of a character whose heart thaws in the face of basic goodwill of all men.

Monsters, Inc. (2001)   I was never the greatest fan of Monsters, Inc., even before charges began to be levelled regarding its “true” subtext. I didn’t much care for the characters, and I particularly didn’t like the way Pixar’s directors injected their own parenting/ childhood nostalgia into their plots. Something that just seems to continue with their fare, ad infinitum. Which means the Pixars I preferred tended to be the Brad Bird ones. You know, the alleged objectivist. Now, though, we learn Pixar has always been about the adrenochrome, so there’s no going back… Waternoose: Our city is counting on you to

Klaus (2019)   I guess Netflix’s negligible quality control, movie-wise, has to score a positive occasionally, and this Christmas – but fairly loosely so, ironically, in that the trappings are in scant supply for the most part – animation is an unlikely delight. A Santa Clause origins tale doesn’t sound like the stuff of a great movie – origins stories so rarely are – but Sergio Pablos’ feature debut Klaus is stylistically distinct, emotionally compelling, and frequently very funny. Which is a godsend in an animation arena where everything feels focus-tested to within an inch of its life, such that even the

I Lost My Body aka J’ai perdu mon corps (2019)   A real oddity, so nice to see it garnering Oscar attention, this animation from Jérémy Clapin might sound, on first brush with the premise, like the ghoulish offspring of Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn and Oliver Stone “classic” The Hand. I Lost My Body concerns a severed appendage attempting to reunite with its owner, but really, it’s a low-key affair, one-part fever dream of the hand’s eventful journeying, the other the tale of Naoufel (Hakim Faris, but Dev Patel in the dubbed version, which I didn’t watch), a pizza delivery boy who takes

Missing Link (2019)   Laika’s mixed animation fortunes continue, to the extent that it’s difficult to see how they’re going to be able to sustain themselves for much longer. Kubo and the Two Strings was their best feature (closely followed by Coraline), but entirely failed to justify its budget at the box office. Now Missing Link arrives, at a significantly more expensive $100m estimate, and completely flops (a paltry $26m worldwide). The reason? It isn’t a bad movie – certainly more appealing than either ParaNorman or The Boxtrolls, both of which fared much better – so perhaps there’s an aesthetic issue above and beyond their favoured stop-motion medium.

The Secret Life of Pets 2 (2019)   It says something regarding the misplaced confidence Illumination had in this would-be second franchise that they included Minions and Pets in the animated logo preceding The Secret Life of Pets 2. While this sequel took a not-to-be-sneezed-at $433m, it was rather shockingly (not least to Universal) less than half the original’s global gross. Tellingly, no third instalment has been announced. It shouldn’t be a surprise, as this movie, following a decent but unremarkable predecessor, is patchy at best. Or patchwork, more accurately, attempting to juggle three separate plotlines and rather rudely mash them

How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World (2019)   I was a big fan of How to Train Your Dragon, and rated the sequel as a cut above most repetitive, remixed follow-up fare, even if it was thoroughly embedded with second-chapter tropes. This third instalment, however, arriving half a decade after its predecessor, feels more like contractual obligation than the consequence of a real yen to tell a story. The focus on dragon Toothless ends up yielding a rather toothless story. There isn’t much left for Hiccup (Jay Baruchel) to prove, so he’s required to make bad choices, while his

Coco (2017)   Although I knew I should Coco, it took me a while to get round to this Pixar (don’t hold your breath for Cars 3). Partly because I’ve become ever-more jaded towards the animation house’s once must-see cachet, whereby even their original offerings betray a formula that it isn’t so stratospherically superior to that of DreamWorks, given they invariably suffer when it comes to comparisons. But, as with Inside Out, Pixar’s ninth Best Animated Feature Oscar winner offers the potential of an original outing that’s also somewhat risky; it’s actually nothing of the sort, as much Great-Beyond comfort food as Casper, but

The Lion King (2019)   And so the Disney “live-action” remake train thunders on regardless (I wonder how long the live-action claim would last, were there a slim hope of a Best Animated Feature Oscar nod?) I know I keep repeating myself, but the early ’90s Disney animation renaissance didn’t mean very much to me; I found their pictures during that period fine, but none of them blew me away as they did critics and audiences generally. As such, I have scant nostalgia to bring to bear on the prospect of a remake, which I’m sure can work both ways. Aladdin proved

Toy Story 2 (1999)   Acclaimed as the Pixar high-water mark by many (a high accolade indeed) and one of the best sequels ever made, I’m afraid my response is more along the lines of “Well, yes, it is good, but…” Rotten Tomatoes can’t be wrong, though, with 100 percent fresh and an average rating of 8.67 out of 10. There’s not much nuance to a straight positive, however, and Toy Story 2, while raved over for its thematic depth and nuance, is basically more of the same, just more polished. Of course, more of the same is nothing to be sneezed at.

Toy Story (1995)   Pixar has a lot to answer for. Killing off traditional animation, for starters. And Randy Newman (well, in Pixar films, at least). Indeed, one of the reasons I’m immune to the unconditional worship of the animation house’s crown jewel franchise is that I simply cannot stomach his anodyne, twee songs and lightly-sandpapered crooning. He does not have a friend in me (I’m sure he’s a very nice chap). The first Toy Story profoundly changed the industry (and won a special achievement Oscar for its troubles) and has paved the way for both the plentiful very good computer-animated movies since, as well as

The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part (2019)   The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part isn’t very good. Which is to say, it’s just about passable – nothing more, so don’t take the equal and opposite tack and interpret that as effusiveness – until the last twenty minutes. At which point, it opts to become actively objectionable in its efforts to patronise and consequently provoke children (and hopefully their parents) everywhere into states of abject wrath. The fact that Phil Lord and Chris Miller penned the screenplay should, by rights, cause any rational person to question every positive impression they

Watership Down (2018)   To call the BBC’s animated mini-series a travesty would be giving too much credit to its anaemic failure to capture the poetry, majesty and melancholy of Richard Adams’ novel. It’s simply inept, from the shockingly basic CGI animation – it’s astonishing this was deemed acceptable for primetime broadcast, and likewise that the usually ostentatious Netflix should have attached its name to something so threadbare – to the underwhelming voice cast – evidence if it was needed that simply being a name actor doesn’t necessarily mean your larynx is an instrument of lustre – to the pervasive

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)   Ironically, given the source material, think I probably fell into the category of many who weren’t overly disposed to give this big-screen Spider-Man a go, on the grounds that it was an animation. After all, if it wasn’t “good enough” for live-action, why should I give it my time? Not even Phil Lord and Christopher Miller’s pedigree wholly persuaded me; they’d had their stumble of late, although admittedly in that live-action arena. As such, it was only the near-unanimous critics’ approval that swayed me, suggesting I’d have been missing out. They – not always the most

Isle of Dogs (2018)   I didn’t have very high hopes for Isle of Dogs. While I’m a big Wes Anderson fan, give or take the odd picture (The Life Aquatic just doesn’t do it for me), the trailers almost felt like they were designed as a patience-testing parody of his quirky tableau style. Plus, I wasn’t enormously keen on The Fantastic Mr Fox. Although, that may just have been a desire on my part for a respectful adaptation of Roald Dahl’s story, rather than one Wes’d up to the max. Yet this, his sophomore animation, is as a very pleasant surprise. Perhaps

Incredibles 2 (2018)   Incredibles 2 may not be as fresh as the first outing – indeed, certain elements of its plotting border on the retread – but it’s equally, if not more, inventive as a piece of animation, and proof that, whatever his shortcomings may be philosophically, Brad Bird is a consummately talented director. This is a movie that is consistently very funny, and one that’s as thrilling as your average MCU affair, but like Finding Dory, you may understandably end up wondering if it shouldn’t have revolved around something a little more substantial to justify that fifteen-year gap in reaching

Sing (2016)   The movie that proved, after all the Despicable Minions and Secret Lives of Pets, that Illumination were unstoppable. They may not make animations that aspire to greatness – but then, after Monsters University and Cars 2 & 3, neither does Pixar anymore – but they tap into a particular populism that puts DreamWorks firmly in its place. Sing is resolutely unfancy, with a back-of-a-matchbox plot, average animation and nothing remotely surprising up its sleeve, but it works. You might reasonably have assumed Sing was in a not dissimilarly sailed boat to The Angry Birds Movie and The Emoji Movie, coasting as it does on a reality-TV, talent-show formula that has been in

Kubo and the Two Strings (2016)   Laika studios have received much acclaim for their undoubtedly first-rate stop motion animation technique, but I’ve tended to the lukewarm on their output’s overall quality. Coraline was a strong feature debut, but both ParaNorman and The Boxtrolls came up short for me. Kubo and the Two Strings represents a significant uptick, one that shows off a mastery of tone and atmosphere, but it also suggests Laika still need to beef up their script department. Kubo’s a movie about the power of storytelling that ironically exhibits significant deficiencies in storytelling, and an animation about the power of intergenerational forgiveness that fudges

Trolls (2016)   I keep having to remind myself that DreamWorks Animation occasionally delivers the goods. Shrek (the first), How to Train Your Dragon (both), Mr Peabody & Sherman (no, really). When they first appeared on the scene, I rooted for them as the underdog to Pixar’s uncontested champ, and when they got that Shrek Oscar even more so. But since then, they’ve done their best – even though Pixar’s quality control has slipped, sequels and all – to erode any good will. Trolls is just the latest deficit, a musically facile Day-Glo assault on children everywhere’s senses that somehow slipped through the net to garland critical approval, despite the

Moana (2016)   Disney’s 56th animated feature (I suppose they can legitimately exclude Song of the South – which the Mouse House would rather forget about completely – on the grounds it’s a live action/animation hybrid) feels like one of their most rigidly formulaic yet, despite its distinctive setting and ethnicity. It probably says a lot about me that I tend to rate this kind of fare for its wacky animal sidekick as opposed to the studiously familiar hero’s journey of Moana’s title character. You can even see the John Lasseter-Pixar influence in the fricking cute kids burbling through the opening scenes, before

The Angry Birds Movie (2016)   The Angry Birds Movie is a much better Angry Birds movie before it tries to approximate the to-and-fro thrust of the uber-popular app. That is, before it brings out the catapults. When it’s concentrating on the ornery Red (a surprisingly strong vocal performance from Jason Sudeikis) and his reluctant attendance of anger management classes, along with wild-eyed, fast-walking duck Chuck (Josh Gad, the poor comfortably-sized man’s Jack Black) and explosive bird Bomb (Danny McBride), the generally caustic, disdainful tone works pretty well. There’s also an effective vocal cameo, surely inspired by South Park’s casting of George Clooney as

The Peanuts Movie aka Snoopy and Charlie Brown: A Peanuts Movie (2015)   I was never an enormous fan of the particular brand of melancholy sentiment pervading Charles M Schultz’ Peanuts cartoon, although I did always like Snoopy and Woodstock. Pretty much the same applies to this big screen version, with the caveat that snowballing the characters from an eight-frame strip cartoon to a twenty-minute TV version to a ninety-minute CGI feature is simply unsustainable, content-wise. Probably general audiences thought so too, since for all that Mrs Schultz says there’s no hurry to make a follow-up (it took eight years to get this one

Anomalisa (2015)   As with all Charlie Kaufman’s films, there’s brilliance in Anomalisa, points where he pins down the neurotic fragility underpinning our (individual) reality. This picture, in particular, is determined to make life additionally difficult for itself, however, by assuming the manner of its protagonist. It is thus a more remote, less accessible piece than, say Adaptation or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a state of affairs compounded by the uncanny stop motion animation. Anomalisa is slow, hypnotic, arresting, but while often profound in its insights, like the malaise of its central character, it isn’t profoundly affecting. Kaufman’s starting-point was the Fregoli delusion, whereby

Finding Nemo (2003)   As the Pixar brand goes, Finding Nemo is perhaps their most formulaic movie. It should therefore, by rights, also be their most tired and repetitive in retrospect, particularly as it’s their most overt example of studio hands (co-directors Andrew Stanton, who also gets sole screenplay credit, and Lee Unkrich) working through the tribulations of parentage, at least until Inside Out came along. There is a cumulative feeling, at times, that the studio is too honed, too precise and meticulous in hitting all its carefully calculated beats, such that, no matter how individuated the subject matter, the emotional content tends to be unvaried

The Secret Life of Pets (2016)   As engineers of multi-layered screenplays, Chris Meledandri’s Illumination Entertainment are great gag writers. While Pixar slides inexorably into a stew of incontinent sequels and repetitive emotional journeys (in which every single director has to ram home the point of inclusiveness and family ad nauseam), Universal has struck a distinctive path which is, in its own way, just as unbalanced. Refreshingly, they’re not really very comfortable with all that disposably sincere, touchy-feely stuff, much keener just to get on with delivering the punchlines, but they fall short in addressing the consequences. Since they aren’t

Peter Pan (1953)   I’m all for slaying Disney sacred mice if they have it coming. The animated classics aren’t impervious to criticism, and the more earnest they are, the closer they tend to skirt the territory of the dangerously starchy: bland, even. It’s very easy to be left looking elsewhere for vibrancy – to the sidekicks or the villains – as the lead characters fail to cut it in the longevity stakes. With Peter Pan, I think the problem is perhaps a slightly different one, that the piecemeal narrative doesn’t really lend itself to a traditional movie structure, even in

Hotel Transylvania  (2012)   Typically soft-centred, biteless Adam Sandler vehicle, with little to commend in terms of director Genndy Tartakovskys stylistic displays (or lack thereof; he appears to favour the kind of single plane, group compositions more common to the worlds of sitcom or theatre), Hotel Transylvania’s most noteworthy aspect is how incredibly undemanding it is. Consequently, give all the other animation out there, at every turn, most of it significantly superior, it should count itself very lucky to have found an audience and merited a sequel. Even the premise is entirely obvious, which may explain why Sandler and co can

Minions (2015)   It doesn’t take a genius to see why the Minions are such a phenomenon, surpassing the Despicable Me franchise that spawned them (or rather, they’re now enshrined as the underpinning for its massive success). That doesn’t make Minions a great movie, though. It’s as agreeably slipshod and pasted together as you’d expect from an attempt to beat supporting characters into the position of leads, but it nevertheless represents something of a pinnacle as a spin-off and prequel that’s successful in its own right. Usually they stink. Penguins of Madagascar dealt with the prequel bit in its opening scene, which was also the best scene

Zootropolis aka Zootopia aka Zoomania (2016)   The key to Zootropolis’ creative success isn’t so much the conceit of its much-vaunted allegory regarding prejudice and equality, or – conversely – the fun to be had riffing on animal stereotypes (simultaneously clever and obvious), or even the appealing central duo voiced by Ginnifier Goodwin (as first rabbit cop Judy Hopps) and Jason Bateman (fox hustler Nick Wilde). Rather, it’s coming armed with that rarity for an animation; a well-sustained plot that doesn’t devolve into overblown set pieces or rest on the easy laurels of musical numbers and montages. So credit is due to

Looney Tunes: Back in Action (2003)   Looney Tunes: Back in Action proved a far from joyful experience for director Joe Dante, who referred to the production as the longest year-and-a-half of his life. He had to deal with a studio that – insanely – didn’t know their most beloved characters and didn’t know what they wanted, except that they didn’t like what they saw. Nevertheless, despite Dante’s personal dissatisfaction with the finished picture, there’s much to enjoy in his “anti-Space Jam”. Undoubtedly, at times his criticism that it’s “the kind of movie that I don’t like” is valid, moving as

The Plague Dogs (1982)   While I’ve seen Watership Down many times over the years, this is my first visit to Martin Rosen’s follow-up to Richard Adams’ follow-up. I can see why it passed me by, since it misses out on almost everything that makes its predecessor a confirmed classic. Where Watership Down casually observes the destructiveness of man through the prism of the rabbits’ infrequent encounters, The Plague Dogs wears his essential cruelty on its sleeve. This might have worked if there was a story to tell, or a glimmer of hope, but the circular, doom-laden narrative, set amid a grimly unwelcoming Lake District, offers

Watership Down (1978)   I only read Watership Down recently, despite having loved the film from the first, and I was immediately impressed with how faithful, albeit inevitably compacted, Martin Rosen’s adaptation is. It manages to translate the lyrical, mythic and metaphysical qualities of Richard Adams’ novel without succumbing to dumbing down or the urge to cater for a broader or younger audience. It may be true that parents are the ones who get most concerned over the more disturbing elements of the picture but, given the maturity of the content, it remains a surprise that, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey (which may

Home (2015)   Every so often, DreamWorks Animation offer a surprise, or they at least attempt to buck their usual formulaic approach. Mr. Peabody & Sherman surprised with how sharp and witty it was, fuelled by a plot that didn’t yield to dumbing down, and Rise of the Guardians, for all that its failings, at least tried something different. When such impulses lead to commercial disappointment, it only encourages the studio to play things ever safer, be that with more Madagascars or Croods. Somewhere in Home is the germ of a decent Douglas Adams knock-off, but it would rather settle on cheap morals, trite messages about friendship

The Jungle Book (1967)   The greatest Disney animation arrived soon after Sir Walt had pegged it, but, given its consistency with, and progression from, Wolfgang Reitherman’s previous Disney entries during the decade, it’s difficult to believe he wouldn’t have wholeheartedly approved. The Jungle Book is a perfect Mouse House distillation of irreverence and sentiment, of modernity and classicism, of laidback narrative cohesion and vibrant, charged set pieces. And the songs are fantastic. So much so, Jon Favreau’s new version will include reprises of The Bare Necessities and Trust in Me, in a partially motion-captured world that seems (on the surface) entirely at odds with

Inside Out (2015)   The near-universal acclaim greeting the all-but latest Pixar offering is mostly warranted. It’s certainly their best feature in years, years that have been replete with a cash-in sequels and not-quite-there, increasingly rare, original outings. I have to admit I was sceptical, with Inside Out’s familiar high concept premise having been explored before, in movies, TV and animation, and what appeared to be a dubiously patronising approach to the workings of the mind (you know, for kids!) Yet, while Inside Out is sometimes a little rocky in terms of structure and plotting, it is mostly persuasively irresistible in character, and

Robin Hood (1973)   Wolfgang Reitherman is responsible for my favourite Disney animation, The Jungle Book, the last picture Walt Disney was involved with before he died and which, despite being relatively unadorned in comparison with the lushness of the studio’s animations of previous decades, is blessed with superb design work, wonderfully catchy songs (without equal in the Disney canon) and a marvellous voice cast. While Robin Hood, released five years later, can boast another strong vocal complement, and the occasional decent showing in terms of character design (stand up Robin and Prince John), it’s sadly an inferior beast, too often brought

Arthur Christmas (2011)   At one point in Arthur Christmas, Grandsanta (Bill Nighy) commiserates regarding the way Christmas has been slicked up and polished; “Reindeer, that’s what kids want, not some spaceship!” One might suggest the same of this Sony-produced Aardman picture; “Traditional stop motion animation, that’s what viewers want, not some CGI approximation”. Arthur Christmas is inoffensive, jolly (jingling) Christmas fare with a commendable message about the importance of family and how everyone matters, but it lacks that handmade touch. It’s probably no coincidence that another lesser Aardman feature, Flushed Away, also went down the CGI route, and that both cost so much

Penguins of Madagascar (2014)   You’d think DreamWorks would have realised they can rely on formulaic animated sequels for only so long before they have to come up with something new, but no. Instead, their approach of milking properties until they run dry, and then milking them some more, has blighted other studios’ approach (Pixar is spinning off sequels to pretty much anything that can carry them, Universal has Despicable Me, Fox/Blue Sky is looking forward to Ice Age 11). There’s surely a point when even “indiscriminating” kids are going to realise they’re being had, though. DreamWorks probably thought they had an easy win

Big Hero 6 (2014)   Disney’s Manga/Anime-styled, Marvel-adapted animation was one of the biggest hits of 2014, and it’s reasonable to have fairly high expectations of Mouse House animated fare, particularly since John Lasseter assumed oversight (when he’s not pumping out Cars sequels, that is). But Big Hero 6 is merely adequate. Stylistically it’s different, but not different enough, while the story is surprisingly dead-set, lacking the wit and fun of Pixar’s The Incredibles. What it does have is an adorable robot. But that’s requiring a lot of robot to go a long way. Don Hall and Chris Williams don’t have the most illustrious animation

The Boxtrolls (2014)   I’m not quite sure how The Boxtrolls scored an Oscar nomination for Best Animated Feature. Perhaps it was purely on the basis of the stop motion craftsmanship, rather than the film as a whole? It’s good news for Laika, the studio behind it, which is three-for-three in Academy Awards nods (or four-for-four, including their contract work on Corpse Bride), but in terms of storytelling they’re suffering diminishing returns. Perhaps this is explained by the quality of the source material of their first feature, Coraline. Certainly, it’s way out in front of both this and Paranorman. And Paranorman is superior in turn to The Boxtrolls.

The Secret of NIMH (1982)   Don Bluth, Disney renegade, left the Mouse House in 1979 for noble reasons. He sought to restore animation to its former glories, bringing the respect due to an art form that had waned in the wake of his former employer’s cost cutting, increasingly careless approach. The first fruits of his defection were realised in The Secret of NIMH, an adaptation of Robert C O’Brien’s Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. Bluth more than achieved his goal.  He put animation back on a pedestal (and no doubt his competing presence gave Disney a much-needed kick in the

Mr. Peabody and Sherman (2014)   Perhaps I’ve done DreamWorks Animation (SKG, Inc., etc.) a slight injustice. The studio has been content to run an assembly line of pop culture raiding, broad-brush properties and so-so sequels almost since its inception, but the cracks in their method have begun to show more overtly in recent years. They’ve been looking tired, and too many of their movies haven’t done the business they would have liked. Yet both their 2014 deliveries, How to Train Your Dragon 2 and Mr. Peabody & Sherman, take their standard approach but manage to add something more. Dragon 2 has a lot of

How to Train Your Dragon 2 (2014)   There’s good reason to be cynical about the current state of animated sequels, what with every studio shamelessly strip-mining properties for franchise potential, irrespective of whether they merit it or not. No one is screaming for more Cars and Kung Fu Panda. Actually, they probably are, but they don’t know any better. DreamWorks is particularly guilty, although they at least never betrayed lofty pretensions the way Pixar did. That the first How to Train Your Dragon was such a pleasant surprise, the best animation from the studio since the first Shrek, instantly rang warning bells. Were they going

Paddington (2014)   There’s good reason to be surprised at the pedigree of Paddington. Aardman aside, British animations are often less than auspicious, and the history of CGI-character-led live action adaptations of children’s favourites have generally met with tepid results (Yogi Bear, Scooby Doo). Nothing in the pre-release material, not least the generically cute design of Paddington himself, led me to think any differently. Then there was the loss of Colin Firth as the titular bear. If even Firth was quitting surely it must stink? And yet Paddington is a hugely enjoyable family movie, stylishly made, witty, sweet without being mawkish, and updated without offending defenders

Rio 2 (2014)   Rio was a fairly tepid affair, considerably enlivened by the most delicious villain to grace CGI animation in its near-twenty-year feature history. And so it is withRio 2; Jermaine Clement’s Nigel makes every scene with his haughty cockatoo a delight and nearly balances out the over-famiar Meet the Parents storyline, in which Spix’s macaw Blu (Ben Stiller, I mean Jesse Eisenberg) reluctantly ventures into the Amazon jungle with mate Jewel (Anne Hathaway) and their fledgling brood seeking out others of their rare species. The first Rio was a passion project for director Carlos Saldanha. It had been in development since 1995 (at which

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2 (2013)   Phil Lord and Chris Miller elected not to return as directors for this sequel (unlike with their other franchise, 20-something Jump Street), although they did contribute the storyline. Nothing about Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2 suggests they spent more than ten minutes brainstorming; if the first film saw them going for a disaster movie, here they take the lost continent/ unexplored island route. The result is visually much more inventive than its predecessor, but manages to be simultaneously both narratively formulaic and thematically confused. Cody Cameron and Kris Pearn make their theatrical

The Lego Movie (2014)   The sheer, all-pervading awesomeness of The Lego Movie appears to have persuaded even the sternest critical voice. It’s the animated movie of the year, the one that everyone adores, and it isn’t even made by Pixar. I was fully prepared to find it equally as awesome as everyone else; smart, self-aware, thematically rich and very funny. And it is… but not quite to the unsurpassable classic level I’d been led to believe. At its heart, The Lego Movie has worthy but stolid messages about the values of creativity and teamwork, wrapped in a bow so efficiently tied that

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009)   Phil Lord and Chris Miller’s big screen debut, whenceforth they have conjured box office gold from all manner of unlikely properties (a Johnny Depp TV series, Lego). Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs was a surprise hit for Sony, successful enough to spawn last year’s sequel (and no doubt another beyond that). It’s one that failed to pique my interest. Maybe it was the trying-too-hard title, or the anonymous style of animation. Why, I didn’t even realise Bruce Campbell voiced a character. And… the movie’s… okay. If you’re a fan of CGI cheeseburgers, you

Frozen  (2013)   I should probably have caught this ages ago, but instead I just let it go. Does Frozen mean something extra in terms of quality, or have added resonance, because it turned out to be such a huge hit? After all, whilst it was generally well reviewed, no one anticipated the movie as the enormous crowd-pleaser and cultural phenomenon it became. Talk comparing it to the Disney renaissance, which included a Best Picture nomination for Beauty and the Beast, can only account for it being a hearty success, not one of this magnitude. Surely this was just the latest in a long line

Turbo (2013)   DreamWorks Animation has experienced a roughish ride of late. Too many of their pictures just haven’t done the business. Rise of the Guardians, the recent Mr. Peabody and Sherman and last summer’s big hope Turbo. I thought it would do well. I mean, why not? It calculatingly tapped into Pixar’s success with Cars, and layered on top a strong dash of Ratatouille. Why wouldn’t undiscerning audiences flock to see it with their undiscerning little monsters? I’m still not entirely sure. I mean; it’s a production line assembled underdog story with barely an original bone in its ninety-odd-minute running time, but its agreeable enough. At

The Croods (2013)   DreamWorks’ increasingly wonky animations, in terms of both quality and box office, are getting so that even Jeffrey Katzenberg has to admit they’re a bit shonky. Still, he’s able to put on a brace face as the studio looks likely to get a major shot in the arm with the release of How to Train Your Dragon 2 (we’re talking Despicable Me 2 and Shrek 2 gains on a first outing here). But how long they can sustain themselves with a reliance on sequels for coffers nourishment is debatable. If Turbo screwed the pooch then The Croods did surprisingly decent business, making the most of an

Despicable Me 2 (2013)   The animated movie that came to mind repeatedly when watching Despicable Me 2 was Shrek 2. The sequel to a well-received original, it capitalised enormously on the interim embrace of the first picture in the home entertainment market. Shrek 2 became a monster. And it simply wasn’t very good. As unfocussed and sloppy as the first movie was tightly structured and finely observed in both character and gags, it was a clear example of an attempt to continue a story that has nothing left to give (nor would it until the too little, too late Shrek Forever After). And so with Despicable

Monsters University (2013)   The second biggest animated hit of 2013 (until Frozen overtakes it) was, like the crown prince Despicable Me 2, a sequel. Okay, Monsters University is a prequel, but it’s symptomatic of a malaise one expected from rival DreamWorks but which has now infected Pixar; the relentless plundering of one’s back catalogue instead of striking out in new directions. Monsters University is exactly what you’d expect of the animation house that brought you Cars 2 and Toy Story 3 (admittedly, the latter is a good sequel) over the past couple of years; precision-engineered and immaculately realised, but completely uninspired. I can’t say I was that enamoured by Monsters, Inc., which arrived

Epic  (2013)   The second adaptation of a William Joyce book in as many years (The Leaf Men and the Brave Good Bugs), Epic’s eco-fable in miniature has considerable merit. It is structurally more satisfying than Joyce’s fairy-tale-characters-super-team Rise of the Guardians (that movie wastes its high concept premise). Yet it suffers from an inability to trust in its more distinctive (better) ideas. The production team clearly felt it necessary to punch up the proceedings with standard animation plot devices and supporting characters, which cumulatively neuter the movie as a whole. Maybe they were right; maybe the idea wasn’t sufficiently “exciting”. Epic didn’t do a

Frankenweenie (2012)   Tim Burton may have gone full circle, from making fare forcibly skewed towards Disney’s more sugary sensibilities (even if the 1984 Frankenweenie short came about during their “dark period”) to actually seeing the world that way. I don’t count myself among the many who believe Burton has completely lost his way, but I do wish there was more of the unfettered abandon found in his first couple of films. His movies have always been stylistically and narratively erratic, and there are few unqualified successes in his filmography (Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, Beetlejuice, Ed Wood). Yet, most of the time, his offerings

Rise of the Guardians (2012)   I held a slim hope that this DreamWorks effort, a relative misfire at the box office, might diverge from their cookie cutter animation formula. I suppose it is less “laugh-a-minute” than usual, which is no bad thing when audiences are expected to lap up a Kung Fu Panda 2 that is impossible to differentiate from the original. But first time helmer Peter Ramsey has nothing to fill that hole; the hook of Rise of the Guardians is all there is to it. Once you’ve seen the poster’s character line-up you don’t actually need to see the movie. Most likely a

Terry Gilliam Ranked (Updated)   I first fashioned this run down mid-2013, before The Zero Theorem had been released, and limited it to Gilliam’s solo, bona fide features. To justify this 2016 re-edit (Gilliam would never approve of a director’s cut), I’ve included not only his co-effort with Terry Jones, but the various, more notable shorts he has produced over the years; alas, there has recently been a feeling of taking whatever you can, however meagre, as his fully-fledged gigs have been increasingly thin on the ground. I’ve also adjusted the placings somewhat, such are fickleness and passing moods. Number 1 is

Miss Potter (2006)   Things don’t look good from the off for this Beatrix Potter biopic, which comes hot on the trail of another dramatisation of the life of a children’s author (Finding Neverland). Renée Zellweger has already proved adept at an English accent in Bridget Jones, so at least that isn’t issue. But her take on Potter is extremely mannered, and initially highly off-putting (we’re going to be subject to ninety minutes of this?!). No doubt this is exacerbated by my generally finding Zellweger an alarming screen presence (the perma-squint being just one of her quirks). These performance choices may

The Princess and the Frog (2009)   Disney’s brief return to the hand drawn animation that made its name is an unextraordinary, box-ticking affair: bells-and-whistles reinvention of a traditional fairytale (The Frog Prince/The Frog Princess); sparring romance between two lead characters; charismatic villain; anthropomorphically endearing supporting characters; a liberal sprinkling of half-cooked songs. Its main claim to fame is that it features Disney Animation’s first African-American protagonist, albeit she is shrouded in amphibian apparel for much of the running time. Returning directors Ron Clements and John Musker (who rode the crest of the early ‘90s rejuvenation of the animation division,

The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists (2012)   Or, if you’re American, The Pirates! Band of Misfits. I was hitherto unfamiliar with Gideon Defoe’s The Pirates! Series of novels (the fifth of which was published last year) but on this evidence (he also wrote the screenplay) he’s a witty and inventive children’s author, one astutely able to bridge the gap between material appealing to children and to adults. Defoe’s main character draws on a number of British comedy traditions, chief of which is the pompous career man who is actually inept at his job. There’s more than a dash of Blackadder in

Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted (2012)   Eric Darnell and Tom McGrath have shown remarkable dedication to their escaped zoo animal animated franchise, returning to steer each of the sequels (here joined by Conrad Vernon). As such, the formula is tried and tested; bring back the four main players (Stiller, Rock, Schwimmer, Pinkett Smith), let the support steal the best gags (Baron Cohen, Cedric the Entertainer, McGrath as the penguin leader), ensure there are multiple hyperbolic set pieces and sprinkle liberally atop all of this a number of Euro-cheese dance tracks. Oh, and don’t forget to include a dollop of

ParaNorman (2012)   From Laika Entertainment, which brought us the far superior Coraline, this animated feature from Chris Butler and Sam Fell has its heart in the right place but is crucially lacking in narrative drive and oblivious to any notion of subtlety. There’s nothing wrong with being derivative if it sparks something vital in and of itself, but from the over-referential title of Norman’s town down (Blithe Hollow), this is lacking in wit and inspiration. Norman can see dead people (of course), and is consequently chastised for this idiosyncrasy; he is maligned by his uncomprehending parents and bullied at school