Tangled

Fairytales: they’re all sickly sweetness and light right? You know beautiful princesses, magical kingdoms, swashbuckling heroes, kindly companions etc. Well no. Think of any classic fairytale and chances are there’ll be generous portions of nasty evil deeds hand in hand with the overwhelming prettiness and niceness. This is certainly the case with Tangled, a Disney anniversary special retelling of the story of Rapunzel.

As a baby, Rapunzel is the girl with the golden touch, or to be precise, hair. After her mother, the queen of a kingdom that rather fittingly resembles the Disney logo with its picturesque towers and steeples, falls ill during childbirth, it turns out the only way to cure her is with a magical golden flower (formed from a drop that fell from the sun – bear with me). The royal guard promptly retrieves said flower just in time and mother and baby make it through fine, with the unexpected complication that baby Rapunzel adopts the plant’s amazing abilities. Prior to the soldiers snatching the flower for the good of the kingdom however, a miserly old crone had been using it to stay forever young. Bitter and after revenge, she steals the wondrous baby with the golden, glowing locks in the dead of night. Then, tucked away in a lush green wilderness, she raises the child in a tower as her own, and sings to it instead of the flower she replaced for eternal youth. Meanwhile a kingdom mourns and the endlessly saddened royal couple release thousands of lanterns each year on their child’s birthday, in the hope that she will return home to them one day.

So far, so Disney. This is the back story to Tangled. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll have been concerned about accidentally vomiting in such a family orientated environment. Much like Marmite, you either love this sort of sentimental tale, or you hate it (although I mildly like Marmite, so does this ruin the rule?). However this background to the story is dealt with swiftly in Tangled’s opening. And it gets away with its sickly sweet, emotional mush, to such an extent that it wins you over.

If you’re a Disney sceptic, you’ll be dubiously asking how. The key to Tangled’s immense appeal is that it recognises fairytales are too sweet and sugary for some, so it gently sends up the whole tradition at times. That’s not to say you can’t enjoy the fundamental fairytale aspects, as I say the relief is only gentle, but it’s crucial and enough to make Tangled an extremely accessible movie. It’s refreshing because it doesn’t take itself too seriously, despite being a significant anniversary picture. It can entertain kids and adults alike with its broad range of humour and sentimental punches.

The key to the appeal for adults lies with the self-depreciating performance of male lead, Zachary Levi. His loveable rouge character, Flynn Rider, crashes into Rapunzel’s life after stealing the kingdom’s crown. Incidentally he grabs the crown in an amusing homage to Mission Impossible, lowered from the palace ceiling and later on he snatches a frying pan (used throughout as an effective weapon, with decent comic effect) as Indiana Jones would snatch his hat from beneath a closing booby trapped door. Touches of adult humour like this, alongside Levi’s well judged, constantly witty tone, provide more than enough sly, self-mocking moments to stop normal human being’s brains turning into vegetables.

This is no mean feat, given that Tangled is not just a typical Disney tale but one with random bursts of song. This sort of spontaneous, inexplicable, irrational singing is usually enough to tip most men over the edge. Whilst none of the songs from Tangled are particularly memorable, they are poignant at the right moments (and had kids dancing in the aisles occasionally). Donna Murphy, as evil Mother Gothel, delivers a charming diva like performance whenever she gets the chance to belt out a musical number. “I’ve got a dream” an ensemble piece in a seedy tavern, is heart warming and funny and stands out from the crowd, along with “I see the light”, a romantic duet between leads Levi and Mandy Moore at the emotional peak of the story, as Rapunzel’s dream of watching the floating lanterns seems to be realised. This scene is one of the best examples of the film’s startlingly vivid animation, with glowing candles fantastically rendered in the early night sky. With my secret soft spot for sentimental songs, I nearly shed a tear at the beautifully animated visuals coupled with the emotional duet.

Indeed Tangled as a whole is touching and visually captivating. There are lovely strokes of animation on the expressions of the characters, amusingly so on horse Maximus, but what strikes you most of all is the colour of the scenery. Vibrant and vivid greens and blues contrast with bright pastel colours in the city, set against a varied, but always stunning sky. The animation also allows for some distinctive action set pieces, most notably when a chase climaxes at a dam. There are gobsmacking leaps, acrobatics with endless reams of magic hair and exciting sword fights, with a frying pan, guards and a horse. But most impressive for me was the glistening water, which eventually erupts outwards in a great, mesmerising wave, chasing our hero and princess into claustrophobic confinement.

I saw Tangled in 2D and there is really no need to seek out the 3D version. It’s refreshing to see an animation go back to basics at a time of endless technological advance and reinvention. Here we just get funny, moving storytelling, that’s generally inclusive and pretty for all. From a hilarious opening montage of Rapunzel simultaneously rejoicing and hating herself for escaping her “mother’s” prison, to a heart wrenching emotional finale, Tangled has ingredients to delight everyone. It’s a pretty near perfect family movie, with bags of not only laughs but tender moments for adults too, which rest on the scripting and performance of Levi’s character Flynn Rider. My friend and I really enjoyed it, despite a disappointingly small portion of popcorn and initial doubts. Tangled will reel you in and surprise you, too, whatever your preconceptions.

Doctor Who Series 5: The Verdict

I feel guilty that after airing my views on that early teaser trailer on this blog, warning that this series may fall short, it is only now that I have found the time to correct myself. However that is largely due to the fact that I have enjoyed this series so much that to sit down and analyse both its successes and failings after each individual episode would have spoilt the experience. In truth though the vast majority of my doubts for the future of the nation’s beloved Timelord had been dispelled following Moffat’s first episode, The Eleventh Hour. This extended adventure abandoned the repetitive London setting of the Russell T. Davies era and brilliantly ushered in a whole new set of characters and relationships, along with a regenerated Doctor. My greatest concern, the ability of Matt Smith to replace Tennant in the role, was also mostly alleviated by his first performance alone.

That is not to say this series has not had its disappointments. When Moffat has personally penned an episode there have been no problems with quality or balance, but other writers struggled to successfully tick all the Whovian boxes. The first episode to disappoint was The Victory of the Daleks, although to be fair this may have been because expectations were disproportionately raised by the sight of Churchill and the pepper pot villains in the trailer and were impossible to live up to in a single episode. Perhaps the worst episodes of the series were the Silurian double bill set somewhat unbelievably in a Welsh mining town undergoing a globally ambitious drilling project, staffed by the odd local. I think it was a mistake to follow the rurally set Amy’s Choice, one of those brilliant low budget, idea heavy episodes stuffed with terrific acting performances, humour and insight into the Doctor’s character, with another village location and casually brush aside the glaring lack of funds by having the Doctor insist he had been aiming for Rio. This two part story also felt thin and unable to properly engage for two whole weeks. A promising start, of Amy being sucked into the earth, gave way to a predictable storyline of culture clash and negotiation, with crudely drawn Silurian and human characters.

Following this Richard Curtis’ Van Gogh episode was also weak, despite some nice flourishes. The gaping hole in the strength of Curtis’ tale was the fact that the monster of “pure evil” only Van Gogh could see turned out to be an irrelevance, easily dealt with and disconnected from the heart of the story. In many ways it may have been better to dispense with the monster completely and simply have the Doctor indulge in a spot of emotional time travel, as this is clearly all Curtis wanted to do and in the final scene he did it wonderfully movingly. I was also not enthused by The Lodger despite generally positive reviews of it elsewhere. For me the basic premise of the plot could have been much more satisfactorily explored (I mean something was building a TARDIS??? What?) and the sight of James Corden on television is beginning to verge on repulsive.

Having said this that episode did offer an unblemished close up of the eleventh Doctor’s character, charisma and performance. For me the most pleasantly surprising thing about this series has been the ease with which Matt Smith has become a Timelord and banished nostalgic longing for Tennant. His interpretation of the character has seen a refreshing return to a more detached, alien figure, as by the end of RTD’s tenure Tennant’s Timelord was still lamenting the loss of Rose and envying his duplicate’s mortal existence with her. It’s clear that each actor playing the Doctor draws heavily on his predecessor however, and Smith clearly embraces much of Tennant’s lunacy, whilst also reviving the arrogance embodied in Eccleston’s leather swagger. For me it seems only fitting that the last of the Timelord’s should have such a high minded view of himself and Smith plays the Doctor brimming with a quirky, bumbling confidence of his own. Karen Gillan also brings assurance and feisty fire to the role of redhead Amy Pond. The actress has been at her best when not trundling out generic whiny phrases in a thickening Scottish accent, but in rare glimpses of emotion such as during the scene when she could not open her eyes, surrounded by Weeping Angels. The return of these stealthy statues from critically acclaimed Blink was a gamble for Moffat but one he pulled off spectacularly. He must also gain much credit for Smith’s fresh take on the Doctor, as his writing emphasises both the marvellous methodical detective and mad professor in him.

Indeed there seems to be no doubt that most of what is good about this new look Doctor Who is down to new head writer Steven Moffat. Previous contributions to the RTD series made his talent for exploiting childhood fears evident, but given creative control over the show he has shown an aptitude for the perfect two part episode and a gripping narrative arc. I have already praised the opening episode but the second, The Beast Below, thrilled me. It had a chilling cocktail of scares, “smilers”, floors sliding away in lifts, a shadowy government (led by the demon headmaster!), and also established Amy’s competence as a companion in a unique, imaginative way (Britain floating on a space whale!) that said something about the Doctor. The return of the Weeping Angels managed to capture the brilliance of the original by acknowledging the need for a different type of story, with Moffat himself comparing it to the greater scale of Aliens 2 following Aliens. And after all the teasing about cracks in time, what a finale last weekend!

Episode 12, The Pandorica Opens, was fantastically bold in scale and again the setting of Roman Britain was a refreshing departure from the RTD trend of grand finales unravelling in present day London. After several twists and turns the Doctor was imprisoned within the Pandorica by an alliance of his foes, as the TARDIS began to explode and destroy the universe itself. It was difficult to predict the direction of episode 13, but one would have guessed some sort of reckoning for the Doctor with his formidable coalition of villains and an explanation as to who, or what, was manipulating the TARDIS and causing it to explode. Certainly what sounded like the voice of Davros could be heard in episode 12, cackling that “silence will fall”.

However much to my relief Moffat continued to surprise, as Davros would have been a tired end to such a fresh new series. Moffat seems to recognise the key to successful double episodes is contrast, and so the Doctor went from facing a horde of enemies to a solitary, ailing Dalek and the little problem of a “total event collapse”. Cue some gloriously fun time hopping involving a fez and a mop and a performance ranging from daft brilliance to retrained pain from Smith that confirms his evolution into the last Timelord. The significance of the wedding was at last explained and Rory and Amy restored to the TARDIS, all set for new adventures, with the huge questions of River Song and who caused that explosion still to be answered.

All in all Moffat has rebooted the show, just as the Doctor hit refresh on the universe  with the “Big Bang 2”, and restored a sense of the magical and fairytale by always surprising and sometimes replacing the blockbuster scale of RTD’s tenure with classic, intimate scares (e.g. the headless Cyberman in episode 12 vs. the hordes of them in RTD stories). Best of all as this fairytale series comes to an end it feels as if it is only the set up for something greater to come.