Thursday 30 May 2019

The Secret Life of Pets

Illumination Entertainment's first film, Despicable Me, may have instantly marked them as a company to keep an eye on, but The Secret Life of Pets is just another film from them that indicates their early success may have been more due to luck than judgement. Gone is all the charm and originality that made Despicable Me what it is, instead replaced by a series of barely connected scenes that add up to nothing more than a significantly less effective version of Toy Story.

We follow Max, a dog living a cushy life in New York with his owner, as he tries to deal with the addition of a new dog, Duke. Naturally they don't get on, and it isn't long before the escalating battle between them results in both of them getting lost in the middle of New York city. Imagine if Buzz Lightyear had the same backstory in Toy Story as Jessie does in Toy Story 2. Now imagine they are both dogs instead. Congratulations, you've seen a better version of The Secret Life of Pets. In everything from basic premise to individual plot points – even down to the personalities of various side characters – The Secret Life of Pets owes a great debt to Toy Story and its sequels, cribbing liberally whenever it gets the chance. Where The Secret Life of Pets and Toy Story differ, however, is that one has a strong idea of the story it's trying to tell and the way its characters will change over the course of the film, whereas the other does nothing but repeatedly introduce new, wacky characters and set up silly situations in a futile attempt to keep the audience entertained.

It's a great example of why "and then" storytelling simply doesn't work. There is no sense of cause and effect between almost anything that happens resulting in a film that feels more like the ramblings of a child describing a particularly nonsensical dream than it does a coherent story. That all important structure is totally absent here, and without it what could have been a somewhat moving (albeit wholly unoriginal) story about a dog finding a new home fails to register on any level, never mind an emotional one. There is no end to the list of truly great animated films that understand how to tell a story, which makes The Secret Life of Pets' inability to do so all the more glaringly obvious. This was released in the same year Zootropolis came out so there is simply no reason why films aimed at kids can't be genuinely good, and insisting that we shouldn't expect as much from either animation as an art form or children as an audience is reductive to both.

There are a few aspects of The Secret Life of Pets I enjoyed – a recurring joke involving the dead comrade of an ex-pet militia made me laugh every time, and the highly stylised Manhattan skyline is nothing short of beautiful – but they are few and far between, and do nothing to make up for a film that clearly needed several pretty major rewrites somewhere in production. None of this stopped The Secret Life of Pets from making a metric shit ton of money of course – this is, after all, an animated film about talking animals that can be advertised using Minions – but I can't see anyone, not even the most pet-loving of people, walking away having genuinely enjoyed the film. And when it comes down to it, that's the only thing that really matters.

Thursday 2 May 2019

Crazy Rich Asians

Given that it's been 25 long years since The Joy Luck Club, the first and only other major Hollywood studio film with a Westernised Asian ensemble and a contemporary setting, anyone who cares about cultural representation was rooting for Crazy Rich Asians. So it's a relief that this high-gloss rom-com — based on the bestselling novel of a Singaporean author, directed by an Asian-American and featuring an all-Asian cast — is such a thoroughly captivating exploration of the rarefied question of whether true love can conquer head-spinning wealth.

Director Jon M. Chu, novelist Kevin Kwan, co-screenwriters Peter Chiarelli and Adele Lim, and the appealing cast make the story culturally specific yet eminently relatable. It's a rocky romance dripping in the kind of extravagance most of us can only fantasise about, like a $40 million wedding, for instance. And yet it's viewed from the anchoring perspective of a young woman who comes from nothing and remains true to herself throughout, played with grounded intelligence, backbone and emotional integrity by Fresh Off the Boat's Constance Wu in a lovely performance that gives the film real heart. What will likely sweeten the deal for many voyeuristic audiences is the movie's mouth-watering sampling of guilt-free luxury porn. It's a sybaritic celebration of high-end travel, food, architecture, decor and fashion, but it somehow eschews the vulgarity of conspicuous consumerism. There's flashy excess aplenty, but at the story's core, Trumpian ostentation takes a backseat to proud tradition, family honour, friendship and, most of all, love. The romantic stakes are misinterpreted as gold-digging aspiration only by judgmental snobs, whereas for the couple at the mercy of gossiping meddlers and suspicious relatives, dizzying wealth and all its attendant clubby insularity are an obstacle to be surmounted. The movie is less satirical in tone and as a result it has the necessary depth of feeling to make us root for the beleaguered lovebirds to beat the odds and make a go of it.


Wu plays Rachel Chu, a self-possessed NYU economics professor raised by a working-class single mother, played by Tan Kheng Hua, who emigrated from China when Rachel was a baby. Her dreamboat boyfriend of two years, Nick Young, by Henry Golding, invites her to be his date for the wedding of his best friend Colin, Chris Pang, in Singapore and then spend the summer traveling through Southeast Asia. That news pings through the international social-media grapevine of moneyed Asians at dizzying speed in an amusing montage that represents director Chu's effervescent style at its best. Nick has been reticent about his family's astronomical, old-money wealth, evasively describing their situation as "comfortable." Even when he and the wide-eyed Rachel are ushered into their first-class private suite on the flight from New York, Nick brushes it off as a perk of family business connections. But his desire to explore a relationship with Rachel on equal terms, unimpeded by his elevated social status, soon proves naive, especially once his hyper-vigilant mother Eleanor, Michelle Yeoh, gets wind of it. Even before any actual talk of wedding bells is broached, multiple forces are conspiring to separate Singapore's golden child from the perceived interloper.

The comedy is one part Meet the Parents, two parts Cinderella, with those familiar elements reinvigorated by the fresh setting of upscale Singapore, with its architectural splendours embracing both colonial history and imposing modernist forms. Cinematographer Vanja Cernjul shoots the locations in dynamic widescreen compositions full of bold colours that add to the sense of a 21st century fairy tale. The writers also expand the geographical canvas by taking in Nick's globe-trotting extended family and dropping the principals into exotic locations for the pre-nuptial partying of Colin and his bride-to-be. While that couple's fondness for Nick makes them instantly accepting of Rachel, that is generally not the case. But she has a few strategic allies on her side.

Chief among them is her hilariously unfiltered former New York college friend Peik Lin Goh, played by rapper Awkwafina, the scene-stealer of Ocean's 8, who effortlessly repeats that feat with her irresistible insouciance here. Having returned home to her wacky nouveau riche parents, played to the hilt as shamelessly broad caricatures by Ken Jeong and Koh Chieng Mun, Peik Lin sets Rachel straight on the true scope of Nick's family fortune. She then teams with Oliver (Nico Santos), the flamboyantly gay "poor-relation rainbow sheep" of the Young family, to give Rachel the necessary makeover to pass muster with Eleanor. Even more important is Rachel's first impression on Nick's doting grandmother, or Ah Ma in local parlance, played with beatific serenity and just the right touch of inscrutability by veteran Lisa Lu.

Rachel also gets insider support from Nick's favourite cousin Astrid, Gemma Chan, the essence of poise, beauty and sophistication, whose own difficult experience of marrying beneath her income bracket makes her sympathetic to the outsider's discomfort. While screenwriters Chiarelli and Lim generally have been successful at corralling Kwan's vast panoply of characters into a manageable group, Astrid's troubled marriage to Michael, Pierre Png, gets somewhat shortchanged as a subplot, even if it serves to show the fissures that wealth disparity can create in a relationship. Nevertheless, Chan is a radiant presence who lights up her every scene.


The filmmakers stir occasional bursts of raucous humour into the mix, primarily via Peik Lin's family or Bernard (Jimmy O. Yang), an obnoxious overgrown frat boy who takes charge of Colin's lavish bachelor weekend. But mostly, the comedy is breezy, smart and tethered to issues far more universal than the obscenely rich high-society milieu would suggest. Chu has put together a slick, highly entertaining package. Unsurprisingly for a director who cut his teeth on films including the Step Up sequels and Justin Bieber concert docs, Crazy Rich Asians is energised by infectious use of Brian Tyler's big, bouncy score and some terrific song choices. What makes it so genuinely uplifting, however, is the establishment of the central relationship as a union between partners determined to remain on equal footing, far more concerned with each other's mutual happiness than with all the wealth and luxury that stands between them.