Score: 1.5 / 5
If anything could make another version of The Jungle Book special, memorable, or meaningful, motion capture wasn't it.
It seems an appropriate directorial debut for the undisputed master of motion capture Andy Serkis, whose technical and dramatic work on the Planet of the Apes franchise really deserved more award recognition. There's not really a way to get the story wrong, and much of it relies on special effects to stupefy the audience into a state of wonder. Leave it to Serkis to make the animals look uncannily like their all-star voice actor counterparts. You really haven't lived until you've seen Christian Bale's face covered in Bagheera's black fur, or Benedict Cumberbatch's crazy eyes popping out of Shere Khan's tigery visage.
But Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle is so much less than it could -- and should -- have been. Though its technical skill in realizing the animals is unquestionable, its delivery feels preoccupied with its own technicality. Faces and movement might be exactly right, but many of the other effects look cheap by comparison (notice scenes of intense action and of large numbers of animals; they are remarkably unfinished renderings). Moreover, Serkis demonstrates a surprising inability to direct the film, apart from his own area of expertise. The screenplay and editing seem aggressively at odds with each other while the movie never really shows us anything new or interesting to make it worthwhile. And, perhaps most importantly, the film tonally lurches in such intense swings that it never really coalesces into a finished product.
This film fatally suffers from its inability to make a case for existing. Partly due, no doubt, to Disney's The Jungle Book being filmed near the same time, and due to Mowgli being released on Netflix and not theatrically, this film was doomed to have a lesser impact. And yet its faults extend beyond those of circumstance. Serkis seems bent on telling a fresh, darker story without music and whimsy. His characters bleed -- more than you might expect -- and die in gruesome ways. This is not the movie to watch with impressionable young children on a Friday night. But Serkis fails to bring the film to a truly violent, visceral level; while it remains in appropriate for children, it's also not very appealing to adults seeking more brutal fare.
Finally -- and comparisons are often so unproductive -- The Jungle Book is just so much more effective and accomplished as a film. Its effects are impeccable, its sense of joy pure and infectious, its nostalgia combines perfectly with its innovations. Mowgli isn't forced to return to the man-village, doomed by some sickly essentialist ideas about what he was born as opposed to who he chooses to be. Rather, he remains with his friends and family in the jungle, a perfect ending to his character and his story that has never been told before. That's a reason to retell this story. Tell it differently, with a purpose that is relevant for the time and place.
The closest Mowgli gets to being relevant -- apart from casting Naomie Harris and Cate Blanchett -- is in its vague attempts at teasing out the complex political machinations of the jungle. By the time Mowgli is all but forced back to the man-village, the jungle has become a dark and anarchic place, ruled over by a vicious tyrant with bad hair, dramatic gesture, and a crazed gleam in his eye. He may not be Trump, but in case you didn't make the connection, Serkis puts a malnourished, dirty Mowgli in a cage for the villagers (and audience) to mock.
Save your time, and save your energy. Jon Favreau is making a Jungle Book sequel, and I cannot wait.
If anything could make another version of The Jungle Book special, memorable, or meaningful, motion capture wasn't it.
It seems an appropriate directorial debut for the undisputed master of motion capture Andy Serkis, whose technical and dramatic work on the Planet of the Apes franchise really deserved more award recognition. There's not really a way to get the story wrong, and much of it relies on special effects to stupefy the audience into a state of wonder. Leave it to Serkis to make the animals look uncannily like their all-star voice actor counterparts. You really haven't lived until you've seen Christian Bale's face covered in Bagheera's black fur, or Benedict Cumberbatch's crazy eyes popping out of Shere Khan's tigery visage.
But Mowgli: Legend of the Jungle is so much less than it could -- and should -- have been. Though its technical skill in realizing the animals is unquestionable, its delivery feels preoccupied with its own technicality. Faces and movement might be exactly right, but many of the other effects look cheap by comparison (notice scenes of intense action and of large numbers of animals; they are remarkably unfinished renderings). Moreover, Serkis demonstrates a surprising inability to direct the film, apart from his own area of expertise. The screenplay and editing seem aggressively at odds with each other while the movie never really shows us anything new or interesting to make it worthwhile. And, perhaps most importantly, the film tonally lurches in such intense swings that it never really coalesces into a finished product.
This film fatally suffers from its inability to make a case for existing. Partly due, no doubt, to Disney's The Jungle Book being filmed near the same time, and due to Mowgli being released on Netflix and not theatrically, this film was doomed to have a lesser impact. And yet its faults extend beyond those of circumstance. Serkis seems bent on telling a fresh, darker story without music and whimsy. His characters bleed -- more than you might expect -- and die in gruesome ways. This is not the movie to watch with impressionable young children on a Friday night. But Serkis fails to bring the film to a truly violent, visceral level; while it remains in appropriate for children, it's also not very appealing to adults seeking more brutal fare.
Finally -- and comparisons are often so unproductive -- The Jungle Book is just so much more effective and accomplished as a film. Its effects are impeccable, its sense of joy pure and infectious, its nostalgia combines perfectly with its innovations. Mowgli isn't forced to return to the man-village, doomed by some sickly essentialist ideas about what he was born as opposed to who he chooses to be. Rather, he remains with his friends and family in the jungle, a perfect ending to his character and his story that has never been told before. That's a reason to retell this story. Tell it differently, with a purpose that is relevant for the time and place.
The closest Mowgli gets to being relevant -- apart from casting Naomie Harris and Cate Blanchett -- is in its vague attempts at teasing out the complex political machinations of the jungle. By the time Mowgli is all but forced back to the man-village, the jungle has become a dark and anarchic place, ruled over by a vicious tyrant with bad hair, dramatic gesture, and a crazed gleam in his eye. He may not be Trump, but in case you didn't make the connection, Serkis puts a malnourished, dirty Mowgli in a cage for the villagers (and audience) to mock.
Save your time, and save your energy. Jon Favreau is making a Jungle Book sequel, and I cannot wait.
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