Review: "Mirror, Mirror"

There was nothing about "Mirror, Mirror" that I hated, but there was also nothing that I really loved. I like the idea behind this movie, but am largely indifferent to the movie they did make.

Director Tarsem Singh Dhandwar and screenwriters Melissa Wallack and Jason Keller seemed to have set out to make a dizzyingly funny, satirical take on the classic "Snow White" fable by the Brothers Grimm. But the film repeatedly steps back from pure comedy and goes for amusing and charming. You can almost hear the studio honchos whispering in their ear, "Remember the 18-35 female demographic."

The tone is less "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and more "Ella Enchanted." I think they should have given up on the sweet, mushy parts and gone for the Full Gilliam. Actually, I'm sort of piqued to see what Terry Gilliam could have done with this material and budget.

As you probably know, this is the first of two Snow White adaptations arriving in theaters this year. Later we get the dark-and-scary version, "Snow White and the Huntsman," where Snow gets into knife fights and wears more grime than ball gowns. Personally, I was much more looking forward to this one.

Julia Roberts plays the evil queen and serves as narrator, telling us right from the start that this is her story, not Snow's. That's not really true, but it should have been -- Roberts is easily the best thing about the movie. Instead of the whole cruel-and-evil stepmother gig, Roberts plays the queen as an over-spoiled movie star, toying with her vassals and using her vast powers to keep herself sitting pretty. She doesn't so much like ruling the kingdom as being the center of attention.

By contrast, Snow is a drab and flat character. As played by Lilly Collins, she's a castle shut-in who years for her long-lost father, who married the queen and then disappeared chasing a mythical beast in the forest. For a post-feminist princess, she's rather passive, only taking action after various male figures urge her to take up arms.

The prince here is Alcott, played by Armie Hammer as a vainglorious but good-hearted guy who gets caught between Snow and the queen. The queen wants to marry him and claim his vast wealth to refill her kingdom's empty coffers, but Alcott seems totally unaware of her erstwhile ardor. He's smitten by Snow instead, but then she disappears and takes up with the Dwarves.

The minimalist seven are a hoot, and the filmmakers actually manage to imbue each of them with some distinct personality. Danny Woodburn plays Grimm, the world-weary leader. Martin Klebba is Butcher, who's hardcore and wears a cowboy hat. Grub (Joe Gnoffo) is a big eater, Chuckles (Ronald Lee Clark) is a giggler and Wolf (Sebastian Saraceno) is the bruiser. Jordan Prentice adds a little soul as Napoleon, and Half Pint (Mark Povinelli) has an amusing, unrequited crush on Snow.

The dwarves in this iteration are itinerant highwaymen who live in the forest and rob travelers. They wear funky stilts that can expand and retract like accordions, turning them into giants who leap and twist about like Cirque du Soleil performers gone medieval.

The movie's version of the magic mirror is strange, and a little confusing. Instead of it being a mirror in her castle with a face that the queen converses with, she steps through a mirror into another dimension. She surfaces on a giant lake or ocean where some wooden huts have been built. Inside is the mirror with the magical spirit who is her servant, but looks like her own reflection -- though without any wrinkles, it wryly notes.

"They're not wrinkles! They're ... crinkles," the queen pouts adorably. One of the running jokes is that the queen is in denial about her own aging -- she insistently tells the prince that he and she are "about the same age" -- and kudos to Roberts for bravely tweaking her fading ingenue status.

So Snow joins up with the dwarves, becoming a thief, though a good-hearted one who returns the people's taxes to them. As is the staple in these sorts of movies, she also manages to become an expert swordsman over the course of a single musical interlude and montage.

My biggest problem with "Mirror, Mirror" is that it contained no surprises for me. Once you've established the slightly fractured take on the fairy tale -- which one can get just from watching the trailer -- all the story elements and character arcs fall neatly and predictably into place. Even the oft-referenced Beast in the forest contained no secrets, as I guessed his final disposition before we ever even see him.

"Mirror, Mirror" certainly isn't a bad movie, and there are a few wickedly funny moments and some glimpses of inspired characterizations. Alas, this spell only works sporadically.

2.5 stars out of four

Review: "The Lion King 3D"

"The Lion King" was made a mere 17 years ago, but seems from a different era now. The following year, "Toy Story" would come out, and animation was never the same again.

Now being released in a 3D version, the renderings of animals has that clean, cutsie look that was a hallmark of Disney cartoons. If it were made today, Simba the lion would have textures and shadings and computer animators would've spent 10,000 hours getting every hair on his mane to look as lifelike as possible. And the movie wouldn't be nearly as good.

I'm a devotee of CG animation, but the re-release of "The Lion King" reminds us that, like Simba recalling his father's spirit out of the night sky, we don't have to let go of the past in order to move beyond it.

We are in the midst of a second golden age of animation, kicked off by 1989's "The Little Mermaid" and improved upon in 1991's "Beauty and the Beast" and "Aladdin" the following year. But in 1994, the art form reached a watershed with "The Lion King."

Here was a "kiddie" flick that was big and grandiose and ambitious, a sprawling Shakespearean epic playing out on the African savannah. The king Mufasa, given indescribable depth and presence by the voice acting of James Earl Jones, seemed to step out of the papyri of a Greek tragedy.

It would be easy to surmise that Disney releasing a 3D version of "The Lion King" is a mere publicity stunt, a run-up to the Blu-ray version being issued on Oct. 4. Certainly, the 3D effects add little to the experience. The gorgeous landscapes of the lions' prideland pop out a little more, though inevitably everything looks a little dimmer than it ought to.

But for a mere cartoon, this movie is one that needs a huge canvas to do it justice. I've watched "The Lion King" on DVD on my big-screen TV with surround sound, and seeing it in a theater full of families was enthralling in a way home video cannot match.

With half the theater filled with small children, their din of cries and squawks soon faded as the film and I joined. (When my wife dropped her 3D glasses due to our squirmy 10-month-old and needed help retrieving them, she had to poke me several times to break the spell.)

A few new impressions on the movie:

I was surprised how much screen time is spent with young Simba (Jonathan Taylor Thomas) before Mufasa's death and the young cub's exile. My memory was that section was mere prologue, and the film spends most of its running time with him grown up and voiced by Matthew Broderick. In fact, the sections are about evenly split.

The songs, though not quite on the level of the magical "Beauty and the Beast," remain infectiously memorable. Even Jeremy Irons, playing conniving uncle Scar, fakes his way admirably through "Be Prepared" in the grand tradition of talk-singing. Jimmy Cagney and Rex Harrison would be proud.

After the success of Robin Williams voicing the genie in "Aladdin," Disney -- which previously used professional voice actors almost exclusively -- "The Lion King" ushered in the era of movie stars doing most of the characters. No complaints, given the quality of work here. Robert Guillaume is particularly affecting as crazy baboon/wise shaman Rafiki.

Nathan Lane, a Broadway song-and-dance man who got his break into movie stardom through "The Lion King," is still a hoot as meerkat Timon. He's primarily around as comic relief, but also throws in some sly, sophisticated humor: "Carnivores ... oy!"

The musical score by Hans Zimmer is the heartbeat of the movie. Without his rollicking beats and sweeping, lush strings, the film would lose much of its power. It won the Oscar that year, trumping contenders "Forrest Gump" and "The Shawshank Redemption," and deserved to.

Whatever the reasons behind it, seeing "The Lion King" on the big screen falls into the not-to-be-missed category.

4 stars out of four