BAYOU BLUES: The Princess and the Frog.
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OLD DOGS Having sat through the witless preview more times than I care to remember, I was perfectly willing to let Old Dogs go gentle into that good night, one of the expected casualties during a period in which screenings of year-end award contenders come flying fast and furious. But then I read that in one scene, John Travolta plays the Joker, and I got excited at the sheer prospect of witnessing such a dazzling display of cinematic wretchedness. Truly, this would be a scene to surpass any given moment from such past Travolta bombs as Battlefield Earth and Look Who's Talking Too! But no. Contrary to expectations, there's no fantasy sequence in which Travolta plays the Joker; instead, his character has merely taken some medicine that causes his face to sport a Joker-esque grimace. Thus, what could have been a so-bad-it's-glorious moment instead falls into the so-bad-it's-only-bad camp. Then again, that pretty much describes the entire project, which casts Travolta and Robin Williams as Charlie and Dan, business partners who suddenly find themselves looking after Dan's newly discovered kids (twins conceived during one drunken night seven years ago) for a couple of weeks. Masters of their trade (sports marketing), the pair prove to be completely incompetent in the presence of the children (Conner Rayburn and Ella Bleu Travolta, neither exactly a find), leading to a series of excruciating sequences in which the adults are repeatedly ridiculed, humiliated and made to suffer great physical pain. The movie is never remotely funny, but it excels at being creepy. In addition to Travolta's aforementioned gross-out grin, Rita Wilson is on hand to deliver a skin-crawling performance as a hyperactive hand model. The sight of a gorilla nuzzling annoying Seth Green is equally nauseating -- more so since most audience members will be feverishly praying that the creature tears him limb from limb instead. There are countless moments of creative desperation -- reaction shots from a dog, golf balls to the groin, etc. -- but none of creative innovation. *
PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL PUSH BY SAPPHIRE "Kitchen sink realism" was the term invented to describe a specific type of artistic movement that took place in England in the 1950s and 1960s, and here comes Precious to borrow that expression for a more modern, decidedly Americanized look at life among the lower classes. Adding to the appropriateness of subletting that term is that fact that a good part of this harrowing drama is set in and around the kitchen, as a frying pan to the head and hairy pigs feet to the arteries both take a toll on the well-being of the story's heroine, 16-year-old Claireece "Precious" Jones (Gabourey Sidibe). Living with her hateful mother (Mo'Nique), a woman who abuses her in every way imaginable, Precious has to contend not only with a disastrous home life but also with the fact that she's pregnant with her second child, both kids the result of being raped by her own long-gone father. Grossly overweight and largely illiterate, Precious nevertheless harbors a poetic side and can only hope that her life will take a turn for the better. She finally finds some allies in a patient teacher (Paula Patton) and a no-nonsense social worker (Mariah Carey, surprisingly effective), but their encouragement repeatedly gets negated by her mother's assertions that she's ugly, unloved and unwanted. The 2009 release least likely to be mistaken for the "feel-good movie of the year," Precious is for most of its running time so pessimistic that it threatens to hammer viewers into a fetal position from which they may never emerge. Yet it's this hard-edged honesty -- a far cry from the chipper, meaningless platitudes on view in many other works -- that earns this film its stripes. Yet its key ingredient is Sidibe, whose excellent performance crucially transforms Precious from a character to be pitied into a person to be admired. ***
THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG Given the Disney studio's recent disdain toward traditional hand-drawn animation, it's sometimes hard to believe this was the company that over seven decades ago proved that toon flicks deserved to be on the big screen as much as their live-action counterparts. After all, the outfit with countless classics under its belt, some as recent as the 1990s (Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King), had all but abandoned the format in this new century, squarely throwing its support behind computer-animated fare and releasing a scattering of old-school mediocrities (like Treasure Planet) that were saddled with limp scripts and uninspired voice casting. So is The Princess and the Frog the start of a new era, or merely a hiccup that will quickly be stifled? It's hard to predict, but for now, it's a pleasure to have an old-fashioned animated effort that actually stirs memories of past glories. Adding a decidedly jazzy spin to the venerable fairy tale, The Princess and the Frog centers on Tiana (Anika Noni Rose), a young woman living in early-20th-century New Orleans. Toiling as a waitress but longing to save enough money to open her own restaurant, Tiana finds her fate intertwined with that of Prince Naveen (Bruno Campos), a visiting royal who's been duped by the nefarious Dr. Facilier (Keith David) and turned into a frog. Tiana reluctantly kisses the now-green Naveen in an attempt to help him turn human again (as per the fairy tale), but the plan backfires and she instead finds herself joining him in an amphibian state. Randy Newman's song score runs hot and cold, but the animation is lovely, the story offers the requisite Disney mix of mirth and message, and the supporting characters (including a jazz-lovin' crocodile and a laid-back firefly) prove to be an engaging bunch. Yet what's most noteworthy about the film isn't what's in it but what's missing -- specifically, the faddish pop culture references and scatological humor that dates most of today's animated efforts. The Princess and the Frog refuses to be pegged as a product of a specific period, and in that regard, it's a welcome throwback to the timeless toon tales of yesteryear. ***
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