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From the arrogant mind of Chris Melandandri comes The Lorax, a $70 million blockbuster adaptation of Dr. Seuss’s 1971 eco-parable of the same name. With its tale of corporate greed and societal complacency, the story seems ripe for a 21st Century re-telling. But for all its good intentions, there’s something deeply unsettling about this bubblegum pop approach to environmentalism.
The film tells the story of Ted, a twelve-year-old boy living in the entirely synthetic town of Thneedville. He badly wants to cop off with Audrey, a significantly older girl who lives across the street, and so decides to go in search of a real tree — the one thing that Audrey wants more than anything else in the world. Absent from the source material, Audrey is further evidence of Hollywood’s belief that a story without a love interest simply isn’t worth telling, presumably because anything less than a wholesome heterosexual relationship couldn’t possibly justify a spirit of adventure, or a daring mission, or saving the Earth from the clutches of corporate gluttony.
Check out this video of Taylor Swift, who plays Audrey, desperately trying to muster some enthusiasm for the character (and look out for the bit at 0:18 where they very abruptly cut after she says “I loved the character–”, presumably to get rid of the ‘s’ on the end of the sentence that might imply she was talking about the characters in general rather than just Audrey):
Out in the real world, Ted soon stumbles upon the Once-ler (Ed Helms), a reclusive individual whose mercenary business tactics have resulted in the complete depletion of the forest outside Thneedville, much to the annoyance of the titular Lorax, a diminutive orange eco-warrior who ‘speaks for the trees’. Working together, they strive to save the forrest, defeat the corrupt mayor of Thneedville and make sense of a plot saddled with two distinct time periods, dozens of unnecessary characters and a ‘Groovy Grandma’ who wouldn’t have made it past the first script revision of Jack and Jill.
The stock complaint is that everything here was done to far greater effect four years ago in Wall-E, and that’s true, but personally I can’t see any harm in covering old ground where teaching kids about environmental awareness is concerned. And if it upsets a few bile-spewing right-wing commentators in the process, then more power to Chris Melandandri. There are even a few moments in The Lorax with genuine satirical bite, not least a rap number by Ed Helms (stay with me) about the dangers of ethical compromise.
It’s a shame, then, that the movie’s style so often runs diametrically counter to its message. The level of unnecessary embellishment in The Lorax, presumably added to make the whole thing more kid-friendly, is disorientating. It’s not enough for the Once-ler to travel far and wide in search of his fortune; he has to do so while ‘rocking out’ on an electric guitar (a Lor-axe if you will). The fish who inhabit the forrest can’t just walk around on their fins; they have to do a Mission: Impossible spoof as well. Almost every sequence in the movie, whether it’s a high-octane action chase or quiet expositional scene, has more in common with Sonic the Hedgehog than anything from Dr. Seuss’s oeuvre.
And the songs. The fucking songs. Imagine taking half a dozen Action Man jingles and stretching each one to three minutes. You’re somewhere close.
During his lifetime, Theodor ‘Dr’ Seuss Geisel was notoriously cautious about licensing his characters and stories to the Hollywood studio system, resulting in five decades during which his work remained largely unsullied by external influence. Since his death in 1991, we’ve had these:
Universal Pictures are turning 100 this year, and their anniversary plans are a little more ambitious than those of most centenarians — let’s be honest, at that age you’re well within your rights to just sit around smoking fags and waiting for the Queen’s letter to show up. As well as premiering the spiffy new studio ident pictured above (is that a full stop at the end? Bitches be crazy) they’re re-releasing — and in some cases restoring — sixteen of their most momentous filmmaking achievements … and Mamma Mia!.
To celebrate, I’ve got a pair of tickets to give away for a special one-off tour of famous London filming locations from various Universal movies, including Notting Hill, Bridget Jones’s Diary, Love Actually and various other titles from Hugh Grant’s IMDb entry. You’ll also be treated to a ‘wedding themed buffet lunch’ in this room:
The tour kicks off in West London at 9am next Monday (30th) so obviously don’t enter if you’ve got a proper job or something.
To be in with a chance of winning, just e-mail comp@ultraculture.co.uk with the name of your favourite Hugh Grant character and one reason why you think they’re so great.
A winner will be selected on Friday morning. Oh, and I’m contractually obliged to mention this:
All the films featured in the tour are available on Blu-ray and DVD so you can revisit these famous movie locations time and time again. For a lifetime of memories, prizes and opportunities visit www.facebook.com/universalpicturesuk.
It seems I’m not alone in struggling to take Mark Cousins’s voice seriously: since posting my review of The Story of Film this morning, dozens of you have taken to Twitter to similarly bemoan his vocal chords. With that in mind, I asked Anthony Ing to put his Autotune skills to good use and liberate Cousins’s work from his relentlessly unpredictable vocal style. What he sent back is nothing short of a miracle: Mark Cousins 2.0, lacking intonation of any kind…
I finally got around to watching Mark Cousins’s much-fêted fifteen-hour megadocumentary The Story of Film at the weekend (well, the first three hours of it anyway) and I’m happy to confirm that’s it’s almost as good as you’ve heard. Constructed with unimaginable care over the best part of a decade, it’s one of the most staggeringly comprehensive cinematic histories ever told, featuring hundreds of well-chosen clips from over a century’s worth of films — and only one or two really jarring bits that Cousins shot himself:
All of which goes to prove that Mark Cousins is an extraordinarily talented individual, with an unbelievably extensive knowledge of world cinema. But for all his accomplishments, ambitions and accolades, there’s still one thing he has yet to overcome. I am of course talking about that voice.
I’ve never understood precisely why Cousins feels the need to insert himself so prominently into his work, when all it tends to do is shift attention away from his subject and onto his singularly bizarre vocal patterns. Ever since he first made a name for himself on cult 90s movie shows Moviedrome and Scene by Scene, that name has been synonymous with unlikely intonations and unexpected tonal shifts. Take a look at this Moviedrome review of Don’t Look Now – it’s telling that even the rad 90s camerawork is less grating than Cousins’s voice:
I had an argument with a friend the other day over whether or not Cousins himself realises just how infamous his vocal stylings have become. I said he must know, given that his lilting drawl has practically entered the pop cultural lexicon as an independent entity. My friend argued that a filmmaker and broadcaster as well respected as Cousins would have long ago overcome such a stigma, and was probably seldom confronted by it any more. I countered with some empirical evidence recorded during my weekend viewing of The Story of Film:
Seriously, compare this graph with almost any line from his narration. It’s about 97% accurate.
Of course, my petty complaints about Cousins’s speaking voice by no means diminish the film’s myriad achievements. It’s a remarkable piece of work that’s well worth your time and money if you’ve got any interest whatsoever in the history of film — even if the thought of fifteen hours in the company of Mark Cousins’s voice is a daunting prospect. If all else fails, there’s not much he can do to stop you putting it on mute and turning the subtitles on.
