Cars
(Yes, this review is horribly late....luckily, no one's around to care)
By now, everyone knows what to expect going into the latest-and-greatest Pixar movie: computer-generated graphics, anthropomorphic characters, a kid-friendly atmosphere, funny gags, adult inside jokes, and a very well-written story.
Hmm...let's see. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, aaaaand...yes. No worries people, we're safe.
As one might expect, Pixar's Cars takes place in an alternate-universe USA where everyone (and, in many cases, everything) is an anthropomorphisized car of some form of another. In the NASCAR-like races around which the story revolves the racecars are cars, the spectators are cars, the commentators are cars, and even the insects are cars (the comically inclined can probably guess which model). Windshields have become eyes, intake grills mouths, and (extremely dexterous) wheels hands. While effective, this transformation is not perfect and leads to a few disconcerting paradoxes, such as how the main protagonist of the story would be able to pick up the small model versions of himself that dot his transportation trailer.
Speaking of the protagonist, lhere's your obligatory short plot spoiler: speedy-fast racecar Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson, who for once manages to keep his Hans character from polluting his current role) is obsessed with winning the whatever-cup and landing a lucrative advertising deal. However, when on his way to the Big Race, he gets detoured into hobunk Radiator Springs, NM (or perhaps AZ) which has been forgotten by the rest of the world, and forced to repair his careless damages to the area, he learns that friendship and an appreciation of the moment are far more important. The movie finally culminates in the Big Race, where McQueen's newfound wisdom is put to the test in a final showdown with Obvious Foil Character (Michael Keaton).
What you're waiting for me to say is that the story isn't very good, which I won't, because it is. I left the theater suffused in the same contented glow that all the previous Pixar films have bestowed upon me. That said, compared with the genius of Toy Story or The Incredibles, Cars does fall short in some hard-to-define way. We still have memorable characters, great gags, and an engrossing manner of storytelling, but I can't but feel that I've seen this story before.
Which is exactly the problem. Half a sentence into any synopsis of Cars's storyline, most people will roll their eyes and go "oh, it's that kind of story." We all know how it's going to turn out in the end, and Pixar kindly obliges us by not deviating very far from it (although they did manage to surprise me a little at the end). Does this make the film unenjoyable to watch? No, not at all, but it does remove some of the Pixar magic that we've grown accostomed to. In previous movies, the latest representational innovation (e.g. toys as people, real monsters under the bed, bugs as people, etc.) was built on throughout the movie and helped to prop up the story as it went along. In Cars, once you get over the "hey, they're cars...and people...like...peoplecars..." effect, there's not as much to dazzle you.
In many ways this may be because Cars, in addition to treating the normal Pixar subjects of friendship and redemption, is deeply involved in a specific era and location, and a deep and obvious love of cars themselves. The careful ways in which car models were chosen and adapted to intimately reflect and enhance the characters' screen presences makes this movie a must see for any car buff out there. While all of the models have been adapted to comform to the movie's anthropomorphism, each still manages to radiate the feeling of the original model, and the visual style of the movie manages to capture the strange beauty that can be found in car models, young and old.
Dancing toe-to-toe with this love is another love - this one of the Southwest, whose own beauty is portrayed just as lovingly, although I think in this case the movie is not quite as successful. That said, anything short of the original will be in some way suspect in my book. One of the major subplots of the movie deals with the boom era of Route 66 and its eventual withering at the hands of interstate 40. In the 1930's and 40's, before the coming of Eisenhower and his interstates, there was no real concept of a superhighway, and travel between California and the rest of the country took place along a winding road called Route 66 that bounced around much of the Southwest in a vaguely easterly direction. An entire culture of service stations and highway towns sprang up across this road, and much of what we consider to be diner culture has its roots in this era. With the coming of I40, which was a much straighter and faster road located much farther north, most of the kudzu-like villages growing off 66 withered and died (at which point the metaphor completely breaks down, as kudzu is the only indestructable substance in the universe). The movie deals with all of these in loving detail, although ending in hope rather than depression.
These two subjects are tied so closely with my appreciation of the film that I can't imagine that it will have the same kick if the viewer dislikes cars and car shapes and has never been to the Southwest (something, by the way, that should be corrected as soon as possible). While these sub-subjects tend to compete with the main storyline, they are also some of the more intimate and enjoyable parts of the film. There is a certain throwaway shot towards the beginning that I believe is the first film representation of I40 at night, and perfectly captures the feeling of driving a long and lonely interstate in the dark with nothing but the swish of passing tractor-trailers and their glistening ruby running lights to keep you company. This was perhaps my favorite part of the film, split-second though it was.
In closing, yes the film is good and yes you should go see it. This stands double for people who love cars and/or know the Southwest. The film is filled with masterfully-executed gags, amusing guest appearances (i.e. Dale Earnhart Jr., the car guys from Car Talk, and others), and that warm fullfulling feeling you get after seeing a truly good movie. I do find the rather stereotypical representation of the hillbilly toetruck (Larry the Cable Guy) and the obviously "black" and "mexican" cars a little saddening, but the film manages to treat these characters with enough respect that the stereotypes themselves are not immediately insulting. That subject is something worthy of a complete and separate post, so I shall conclude by saying go see the damn movie.
-fire_eye
I can't use i.e. without thinking of Snatch.
By now, everyone knows what to expect going into the latest-and-greatest Pixar movie: computer-generated graphics, anthropomorphic characters, a kid-friendly atmosphere, funny gags, adult inside jokes, and a very well-written story.
Hmm...let's see. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, aaaaand...yes. No worries people, we're safe.
As one might expect, Pixar's Cars takes place in an alternate-universe USA where everyone (and, in many cases, everything) is an anthropomorphisized car of some form of another. In the NASCAR-like races around which the story revolves the racecars are cars, the spectators are cars, the commentators are cars, and even the insects are cars (the comically inclined can probably guess which model). Windshields have become eyes, intake grills mouths, and (extremely dexterous) wheels hands. While effective, this transformation is not perfect and leads to a few disconcerting paradoxes, such as how the main protagonist of the story would be able to pick up the small model versions of himself that dot his transportation trailer.
Speaking of the protagonist, lhere's your obligatory short plot spoiler: speedy-fast racecar Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson, who for once manages to keep his Hans character from polluting his current role) is obsessed with winning the whatever-cup and landing a lucrative advertising deal. However, when on his way to the Big Race, he gets detoured into hobunk Radiator Springs, NM (or perhaps AZ) which has been forgotten by the rest of the world, and forced to repair his careless damages to the area, he learns that friendship and an appreciation of the moment are far more important. The movie finally culminates in the Big Race, where McQueen's newfound wisdom is put to the test in a final showdown with Obvious Foil Character (Michael Keaton).
What you're waiting for me to say is that the story isn't very good, which I won't, because it is. I left the theater suffused in the same contented glow that all the previous Pixar films have bestowed upon me. That said, compared with the genius of Toy Story or The Incredibles, Cars does fall short in some hard-to-define way. We still have memorable characters, great gags, and an engrossing manner of storytelling, but I can't but feel that I've seen this story before.
Which is exactly the problem. Half a sentence into any synopsis of Cars's storyline, most people will roll their eyes and go "oh, it's that kind of story." We all know how it's going to turn out in the end, and Pixar kindly obliges us by not deviating very far from it (although they did manage to surprise me a little at the end). Does this make the film unenjoyable to watch? No, not at all, but it does remove some of the Pixar magic that we've grown accostomed to. In previous movies, the latest representational innovation (e.g. toys as people, real monsters under the bed, bugs as people, etc.) was built on throughout the movie and helped to prop up the story as it went along. In Cars, once you get over the "hey, they're cars...and people...like...peoplecars..." effect, there's not as much to dazzle you.
In many ways this may be because Cars, in addition to treating the normal Pixar subjects of friendship and redemption, is deeply involved in a specific era and location, and a deep and obvious love of cars themselves. The careful ways in which car models were chosen and adapted to intimately reflect and enhance the characters' screen presences makes this movie a must see for any car buff out there. While all of the models have been adapted to comform to the movie's anthropomorphism, each still manages to radiate the feeling of the original model, and the visual style of the movie manages to capture the strange beauty that can be found in car models, young and old.
Dancing toe-to-toe with this love is another love - this one of the Southwest, whose own beauty is portrayed just as lovingly, although I think in this case the movie is not quite as successful. That said, anything short of the original will be in some way suspect in my book. One of the major subplots of the movie deals with the boom era of Route 66 and its eventual withering at the hands of interstate 40. In the 1930's and 40's, before the coming of Eisenhower and his interstates, there was no real concept of a superhighway, and travel between California and the rest of the country took place along a winding road called Route 66 that bounced around much of the Southwest in a vaguely easterly direction. An entire culture of service stations and highway towns sprang up across this road, and much of what we consider to be diner culture has its roots in this era. With the coming of I40, which was a much straighter and faster road located much farther north, most of the kudzu-like villages growing off 66 withered and died (at which point the metaphor completely breaks down, as kudzu is the only indestructable substance in the universe). The movie deals with all of these in loving detail, although ending in hope rather than depression.
These two subjects are tied so closely with my appreciation of the film that I can't imagine that it will have the same kick if the viewer dislikes cars and car shapes and has never been to the Southwest (something, by the way, that should be corrected as soon as possible). While these sub-subjects tend to compete with the main storyline, they are also some of the more intimate and enjoyable parts of the film. There is a certain throwaway shot towards the beginning that I believe is the first film representation of I40 at night, and perfectly captures the feeling of driving a long and lonely interstate in the dark with nothing but the swish of passing tractor-trailers and their glistening ruby running lights to keep you company. This was perhaps my favorite part of the film, split-second though it was.
In closing, yes the film is good and yes you should go see it. This stands double for people who love cars and/or know the Southwest. The film is filled with masterfully-executed gags, amusing guest appearances (i.e. Dale Earnhart Jr., the car guys from Car Talk, and others), and that warm fullfulling feeling you get after seeing a truly good movie. I do find the rather stereotypical representation of the hillbilly toetruck (Larry the Cable Guy) and the obviously "black" and "mexican" cars a little saddening, but the film manages to treat these characters with enough respect that the stereotypes themselves are not immediately insulting. That subject is something worthy of a complete and separate post, so I shall conclude by saying go see the damn movie.
-fire_eye
I can't use i.e. without thinking of Snatch.
posted by fire_eye at 10:30 PM
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