Inside Out 2 is another joy

A bit of a film-watchy day to mark the end of the year, and the opportunity to catch up on Inside Out 2. I’d only seen the first film in August, but it resonated, so I was always going to watch the sequel.

Riley is now 13 and guess what – puberty! So new emotions – led by anxiety and including embarrassment – step in to try to take over her new teenage life.

 

Really sweet, but also full of things that even I, as a 62-year-old can recognise. Th cringe was huge.

 

Is Joy right … or is Anxiety right?

 

A great screenplay from Pete Doctor, Meg LeFauve and Josh Cooley, with Doctor also at the director’s helm, this is a really good sequel (there may be a third film), which illustrates the mental and emotional difficulties facing young people.

Beautifully realised and with a great voice cast, it’s well worth watching.

It's a cracking film, Gromit

Today was time to catch up with Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl, the new stop motion adventure of the inventor and his faithful (if frequently exasperated) hound from Aardman Animations, directed by the legend that is Nick Park, together this time with Merlin Crossingham.

A sequel to the duo’s second outing – the Oscar-winning The Wrong Trousers in 1993 – it sees the return of penguin arch villain Feathers McGraw, who (spoiler alert) has not been rehabilitated by his time inside the local zoo/prison.

In the meantime, Wallace has come up with an AI garden gnome, Norbot – initially with the intention of it helping Gromit in his beloved garden. But as with all of Wallace’s inventions, what starts out with the best intentions has a tendency to go awry.

And as Wallace becomes ever more enamoured of his new creation, Gromit’s nose is pushed out of joint – reminiscent of The Wrong Trousers – when the perpetually broke inventor unwittingly accepted Feathers as a lodger.

With a screenplay by Mark Burton, Vengeance Most Fowl is a 79-minute delight, jam-packed with gags – watch out for a brilliant visual reference to an iconic Bond villain, but there are many, many more.

It also gently points out the problems that modern technology can create – so apt that the film itself is hand-made animation and not CGI.

The northernness of it all is a joy – there’s even a local newspaper article on the Lancashire references in it.

Ben Whitehead proves wonderful as the ‘new’ voice of Wallace. He’s voiced Wallace in games and stuff before, but this was his first major time in the role for a film since the original voice of the inventor Peter Sallis retired in 2010.

Reece Shearsmith is suitably creepy as Norbot, while Peter Kaye reprises his voice role as over-promoted but not very bright copper Albert Mackintosh, who first appeared in Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Lauren Patel is very good as PC Mukherjee, who – even new out of training – seems to have a much better idea of proper coppering.

All in all, this is an absolute delight. No wonder it’s already picking up award nominations. And personally, I’ll be watching again, because there is no way I can have seen and registered all the gags! I suggest you get started now.

PS: A special mention for the mainstream critic who notes (in an otherwise very positive review) that: "only a pedant would complain that penguins aren’t "fowl" as such" ... well no. But Feathers uses a red rubber glove on his head to disguise himself as a chicken. And guess what ... chickens are fowl.

Kensuke's Kingdom is pitch-perfect film-making

Initially premiered at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival in June 2023, before being seen at last October’s BFI London Film Festival, this film based on Michael Morpurgo’s children’s book – originally published in 1999 – has now made its way to a more general release.

It tells the story of Michael, an 11-year-old boy, who sets off with his parents and older sister on a sailing trip around the world, after Mum and Dad both lose their jobs.

But Michael is less than happy – not least as his beloved sheepdog, Stella, has had to stay at home, or so we are initially led to believe.

One night, as a storm rages, Michael and Stella are washed overboard, only to wake on an apparently uninhabited desert island.

However, they find help – albeit reluctantly – from Kensuke, an elderly Japanese man who was washed up on the island decades before. Gradually their relationship evolves, as Michael learns to respect and value the environment he finds himself in, together with its wildlife, which Kensuke helps to protect. And as we discover, there are varied reasons it needs protection.

It's an excellent screenplay by Frank Cottrell-Boyce, who has changed aspects of the original novel, but which certainly make sense here. For instance, in the book, the two central protagonists learn to speak each other’s language. Here, they learn only each other’s name, with communication being based more on emotion and expression.

There is also a love of art that they share and helped them learn about each other.

And their art allows the animators to be incredibly creative, from Michael’s log-book drawings coming to life on an origami boat that moves around a map of the world, to an extraordinary sequence of Japanese-inspired ink works that give the audience an insight into Kensuke’s own past.

The animation is superb – hand-drawn and combining 2D and 3D styles, which hark back to early Disney: think the 1937 Snow White and Bambi, both with lush painted backgrounds and 2D characters. As touched on above, here, there is a melding of different approaches throughout and including some simply beautiful vistas.

Directed by Neil Boyle and Kirk Hendry and with a super score by Stuart Hancock, it comes in at a very pleasingly trim 85 minutes.

In terms of the voice cast, Sally Hawkins is Mum, Cillian Murphy is Dad, and Raffey Cassidy is Becky, Michael’s sister.

But the film rests firmly with Michael and Kensuke, and Aaron MacGregor and Ken Watanabe get it absolutely nailed on.

Kensuke’s Kingdom is a beautiful film – both to look at and in terms of its humanity, compassion, exploration of what family/community means, and its advocacy for the natural world.

Very, very much worth seeing.

Despicable Me 4 – thoroughly entertaining and silly fun

Gru and the crew are back again for a fourth Despicable Me outing – the sixth, in the case of Gru himself and the Minions – and it is as enjoyably silly as ever.
 
Set nine months after the last film, with the family having been joined by Gru Jnr, danger sets in when Gru helps the Anti-Villain League (AVL) capture a rival from his school days at the Lycée Pas Bon (roughly translated from the French as ‘Not Good High School’), Maxime Le Mal (‘Maxime the Evil’).
 
But when Le Mal escapes, having crossed himself with a cockroach to gain super powers, he vows revenge, and the AVL sends Gru and family to a safe house.
 
As I said, blessedly silly fun and does the ‘peril’ at the end really well. Written by Mike White and Ken Daurio, and directed by Chris Renaud – who also gives voice to Principal Übelschlecht of the Lycée Pas Bon.
 
While it’s a film aimed squarely at children and families, there is also plenty for adults without kids to enjoy – not least in trying to keep track of all the Easter eggs: that’s references to other works, for any non-geeks reading this.
 
Here, we’ve got Incredibles, Men in Black, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Bram Stoker’s Dracula – the last one being a particularly geeky one I’m quite proud of spotting – among (I’m sure) many more.
 
As ever, the voice cast is great, the look of it is great and the humour descends delightfully into the realms of the juvenile. Though it’s interesting that the team are finding new way of doing this instead of just concentrating on laughing about farts.
 
It also manages a really funny and unexpected take on the Minions’ usual ‘banana!’ schtick.
 
I was going to say that there’s nothing subtle about this, but the Easter eggs are. Otherwise, just great fun and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. 

Robot Dreams is a an absolute charm

Dog is a lonely hound living on his own in a third-floor New York apartment in the 1980s. In the evenings, he plays Pong on his own. But one night, flicking through channels on TV while eating his usual meal of microwaved macaroni cheese for one, he spots an ad for a build-your-own-robot as a friend, and immediately orders one.

When he’s completed the build – hilariously watched by pigeons on his windowsill – and worked out how to activate his new buddy, their life together begins as they set out to explore the city.

Robot is fascinated and thrilled by everything, and passes on that zest for life to Dog. The pair roller-skate in Central Park, dance together, watch The Wizard of Oz together and, after Robot learns not to squeeze Dog’s paw too tightly, hold hands.

But on a trip to Long Beach at the end of summer, the pair are separated after too much enthusiastic play in the water from Robot. Try as he might, Dog can’t help his friend and, when he returns the following day with tools and manuals to do so, he finds that the beach is now locked until 1 June the following year.

How they cope without each other and learn to live again is the core of the film.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? Who knows. But Robot certainly dreams – not of sheep, but of finding his way back to Dog; dreams that are worked and re-worked from his time-limited experience of life. One in particular is gorgeous – he finds himself in The Wizard of Oz, surrounded by tap-dancing flowers doing a routine straight out of Busby Berkeley, as New York shimmers in green – seen like the city of Oz – on the horizon.

Between the Oz references, the trope of the gay love of musicals – here, Oz (don’t forget ‘friends of Dorothy’) and the Berkeleyesque routine – plus the holding hands, it’s little wonder that there is online speculation that this is a subtle and tender gay love story.

To be clear, there’s no mention of the gender of either Dog or Robot, but female characters in this anthropomorphic New York are pretty easy to spot. And the beach scenes clearly show Dog is male – watch out for a very funny swimming costume change gag.

Robot Dreams is Pablo Berger’s first animated feature and is based on Sara Varon’s comic of the same name. Entirely hand-drawn in 2D style, it has won plenty of plaudits – and rightly so. It’s a sweet, charming story, which depends on the visual, as there is no dialogue. It also references Isaac Asimov’s collection of short stories – and specific short story – of the same name. There’s a lot going on here. It’s not remotely a ‘kid’s movie’.

Don’t be misled by the animation being ‘old-fashioned’. It is fabulously done and gorgeous to watch – 1980s New York itself has been so lovingly created, while the cast of thousands has been given such wonderful attention to detail. There are couple of scenes where Dog is on a scooter with another character, riding into the countryside, where the trees coming over the horizon is simply stunningly done.

And while the comedy is gentle rather than LOLZ, it is certainly there. There’s a lovely scene about photo booths that will take those of us of a certain vintage back!

The ending is perhaps not what you’d expect, but shows a nice sophistication. The ’80s soundtrack is great.

Robot Dreams is a gentle, charming, really well-paced joy. My only personal surprise (disappointment?) as I came out of the cinema was that so many reviews have said: ‘Bring tissues – you will cry as well as laugh’, yet I didn’t.

Given how easily I blub at films (though I hate it when I feel my tear ducts are being deliberately tweaked), I walked home wondering if the absence of even a pricking meant it was not quite of the calibre so many have stated. Writing this, thinking back over the film itself, I have realised that it not bringing forth an instant deluge does not mean it’s not very good indeed.

I took lots of tissues to The Zone of Interest, expecting to find that would set me off, but it didn’t, yet it is one of the best (and most important) films I’ve seen thus far this year.

Robot Dreams is a wonderful film that I suspect is going to stay in my mind for a long time. And of course it’s gay!

My Neighbour Totoro – taking joyful to the extreme

Back in mid-autumn, as I was coming out of the initial dark phase of my partner of 34-plus years having died, I started rather frenetically booking cultural events. The quoted reviews on the trailer for the return of the RSC production of My Neighbour Totoro at the Barbican particularly caught my eye. One, from The Stage, declared that it was a “huge healing hug of a show”.

Got me right there. I had no knowledge of Studio Ghibli or any of its films, but a “healing hug” sounded like a bloody good idea! I bought a ticket.

I mentioned this to my niece who, while envious of the theatre ticket, told me in no uncertain terms to ‘see the film first’.

Then, as we neared Christmas, I saw cinema trailers for a new Studio Ghibli film, The Boy and the Heron. It looked worth watching – so I made it the centre of my Boxing Day. And was blown away.

I subsequently ordered Tortoro and Spirited Away on discs – better than streaming, not least given the home cinema set-up I have.

Spirited Away was the centrepiece of my New Year’s Day – and I loved it.

And so I came to watching Totoro this evening, as my theatre date with the Japanese troll is on Monday.

Wow – just wow.

It’s set in 1950s Japan, where kind university professor Tatsuo Kusakabe and his daughters Satsuki and Mei (10 and four years old, respectively) move into an old house in a rural environment, close to a hospital where their mother is recovering from a long-term illness.

The children start seeing – and interacting with – varied sprites and supernatural beings, including Totoro, a giant (fluffy) troll.

There are familiar themes from the Ghibli films I’ve previously seen: children finding themselves in new environments after a move; lonely, disoriented and distressed by family loss; nature, adventures that lead to supernatural encounters.

It is a short film (blessings be upon the studio!) but absolutely gorgeous and utterly joyful! By the end, I had tears streaming down my face while also wearing a Cheshire cat (like the cat bus) grin.

Directed and co-written by Hayao Miyazaki, it is an absolute joy. Wondrous.

The Minions take on the culture war warriors

Most people who know me know that I love the Minions. Okay, I was late to the game – finally catching up via shorts, social media and mash-up fan art before watching the first two Despicable Me films on TV and then making 2015’s eponymous prequel my first trip to an actual cinema in 16 years. But these days, I even have the t-shirts.

Now I’m not, in general, a big fan of slapstick comedy – my father forced me and my sister to sit through short reels of Laurel & Hardy when we were children and it rather put me off. Later, I grew to appreciate Buser Keaton – though very different – I loved Steve Coogan and John C Reilley in 2018’s Stan and Ollie.

 

But once I’d seen stuff online, I got hooked on the Minions. As I said, the 2015 film tempted me back to a cinema where nothing else had, until that time, worked for a decade and a half, for various reasons.

 

We didn’t see much else that year – what we did see included Star Wars: The Force Awakens at an IMAX – but our cinema going did increase. In 2018, we made 21 cinema visits. In 2019, it was 18. In 2020 – year one of the pandemic, it was five. Last year – the second of the pandemic – 13. This year, the third of COVID, we have already managed five trips to the cinema.

 

In terms of COVID, we’ve been fortunate that our local cinema chain is within walking distance and, with 10 screens and an online booking system, it’s easy to pick times for films when it will be no difficulty to be socially distanced. In that way, it’s the one entertainment medium we currently feel comfortable using.

 

But setting all that aside, Minions: The Rise of Gru was originally slated for a 2020 release and, in my pre-release excitement, I’d had an idea for a blog to explore what I think may be an underestimated element of the Illumination studio’s Gruniverse success. Having just seen the new film, I remembered what I wanted to explore.

 

And the point is that is has an essentially transgressive nature.

 

Co-creator Pierre Coffin has noted that there are no female Minions. In 2015, indeed, he told TheWrap: “Seeing how dumb and stupid they often are, I just couldn’t imagine Minions being girls”.

 

In general, I have a problem with this – it rather reminds me of people who have commented that they struggled to believe that Margaret Thatcher was really a woman, as though women are, by their very nature, intrinsically Good and only go Bad, when influenced by men … The Patriarchy. It ain’t so.

 

But back to the Minions. And a lack of Minion females is not what you see on the screen in any of the five films to feature the little yella fellas. There are cancan dancers and maids, for instance. In the latest film, Bob becomes a female trolley dolly on a plane – who actually offers an infant a peanut. And Bob is far from being alone.

 

Within the wider iconography that includes collectibles, Stuart has appeared as a version of the Bride of Frankenstein to Bob’s Frankenstein’s monster.

 

In the era in which we live, we still have puritans (I have family links to the Plymouth Brethren, so I do know what this means) – in the US particularly, but not exclusively, and some of these are currently going full ‘snowflake’ about things like ‘drag storytime’ where … and take your time here, drag queens sit and tell children stories.

 

Heaven forfend that these far-right, reactionary twerps ever hear that British children have been being subjected to men dressed up as women and women dressed up as men for over a century in pantomimes – as essential Christmas family entertainment!

 

And let’s not even begin to engage with the broader history of cross-dressing and how it was and is used, and what it has allowed artists from Shakespeare to the present to do.

 

There is so much around at present about ‘men pretending to be women’. But there is a very long history of ‘women pretending to be men’ – hence the phrase ‘drag kings’. Those included people who successfully hid within general society to the likes of Marlene Dietrich donning male evening wear, including a bow tie and top hat.

 

And as with things like the Asterix books and much more, British pantomime would have content that children could innocently enjoy, but that also had deeper levels that their parents could find a different reason to giggle at.

 

For example, take Asterix with the Swiss. This includes a little Roman citizen in Switzerland repeatedly losing his bread in the fondue, even though the punishment if you do so is being whipped. He loses his bread deliberately.

 

The joke is quite clear – and perfect proof that Asterix is not only for children.

 

I will be 60 later this year. My attire at present (as for several summers since) is big, baggy, military-style ‘male’ shorts with loads of pockets (dear Odin how I spent decades hating ‘female’ clothing with no feckin’ pockets!), a t-shirt and a pair of Birkies.

 

Yesterday, while on Broadway Market to get a few basic fresh additions to our regular online deliveries from supermarkets, I was called “madam”. Later in the day, in the park, someone called at me: “Hello sweetheart!”. Today, I was addressed by someone as “Lady”.

 

It doesn’t matter how I dress, my fucking tits betray me every time – just as when, after I got the running bug in Lancaster in the 1980s, I’d get calls from drivers telling me: ‘Watch you don’t give yourself a black eye, love!’

 

How do you be yourself, authentically, really?

 

And can you now see, against such a background, why the Minions are, in effect, non-binary wonderful?

Oh ... and while there is nothing really new about the latest film, it’s huge fun, with enough gags and nods to other films to ensure it'll be watched more than once.

 

A lion king of a film

I have upset my niece. Rather assuming she’d be amused more than anything, I texted her to say I’d just seen the new version of The Lion King, having not seen the original.

The response was cutting, if not meant to be as such: she was dismayed that I “haven’t seen the original, because it was the least twee Disney out out there and really worth watching.”

Ah.

Memories of things we experience in childhood have very, very long roots.

As it happens, I understand fully what she means. Back in 2016, The Other Half and I ventured into a cinema to see the new Disney Jungle Book. The trailers looked fabulous, but I was torn. For me, Jungle Book, the 1967 cartoon, was incredibly important.

Goodness – as a child, it was the only film I saw at the cinema twice. Taken first by my parents and then by my beloved Auntie Doll.

I still have the souvenir brochure somewhere and the soundtrack album. I can sing almost every word of the songs, even at the advanced age of 56. In my memory – the cultural part of my personal history – that cartoon remains important.

But that doesn’t mean that the new version was not utterly superb.

I came out of cinema at the time really pleasantly surprised.

So, fast forward three years.

The original Lion King came out when I wasn’t going to the cinema and was part of a Disney era with which, for some reason I cannot recall, I have never engaged. Disney/Pixar is quite another matter, but that’s a different thing.

The Other Half and I booked tickets for this incarnation of The Lion King on the basis of the trailers: it looked superb.

It is.

The 2016 Jungle Book was stunning. This develops on the technical achievement of that. There were moments when I found myself almost crying at the sheer quality of what was on screen. You could be watching a documentary. All that’s missing is a David Attenborough voiceover.

Some reviews have suggested it has a lack of “heart”.

I can’t see it myself. Arguably, I went to watch it for the technical side, but ended up loving the story, the characters, the songs etc: engaged by the whole package.

We saw this less than a week after seeing Jon Favreau play Happy In Spider-Mad: Far From Home. He directed both that 2016 Jungle Book and this. A stunningly talented guy.

There’s a great voice cast here too. Keeping James Earl Jones as Mufasa lends such gravitas (note the joke of his telling his son about “your destiny”), while Donald Glover is excellent as the grown Simba (and a special note for JD McCary as the cub Simba). 

Seth Rogan as Pumbaa, John Oliver as Zazu and Billy Eichner as Timon are all equally excellent.

Beyoncé puts in a fine turn as Nala, while John Kani as Rafiki is … well, this is Kani, so what do you expect? These days, he’s the wise, elderly African go-to actor for Hollywood (and the OH assured me that he got to speak a bit of Xhosa at one point).

But in many ways, perhaps the star performance in voice terms is that of Chiwetel Ejiofor as Scar: so calmly and understatedly sinister.

What we do get here that I sense was not as obvious with the original is the idea, for instance, of Scar as grooming Simba; of the latter’s trauma and of the general environmental questions.

For me, this was superb. Some critics have suggested that the technical achievement comes at the cost of heart.

I can’t see that, personally. The OH and I were in a large audience – mostly adult and one that was presumably more familiar with the original than we were.

When Simba the cub is raised to the crowd in the opening scenes and when we see Pumbaa as a baby warthog, the cinema was filled by the sound of people going: ‘ahhhhh’.

There were hints of attempts at singalongs. At the end, there was widespread applause.

Put aside your doubts: this is very, very good.

It amuses me even more to think that Walt would be spinning in his grave over how utterly cool Disney has become in social terms.

PS #1: I would actually say that the best Disney live-action remake yet is Pete’s Dragon, because although I saw the original in the cinema with my family, it was really, really poor. And the remake is really, really good.

PS #2: my review of the 2016 Jungle Book is here.

The pets return with another fun outing

It wasn’t necessarily the best weekend to open any film that wasn’t Disney’s live-action Aladdin, but The Secret Life of Pets 2 also landed in UK cinemas on Friday and has been enjoying positive reviews.

It’s not difficult to see why. The first film was a thoroughly enjoyable, breakneck romp, but while slowing the pace (a little), this revisit allows for some character development, with the question now less one of ‘what do your animal friends get up to when you’re out’ and more one of their emotional development.

Max, the terrier at the centre of the first film, finds his life turned upside down when his human, Katie, falls in love, marries and has a baby.

Stressing out at the thought of all the bad things that could affect the tot, Max has to find a way through his fear. Fortunately, on a family trip to the countryside, an old, wise sheepdog is on hand.

Meanwhile, Gidgit the Pomeranian and Snowball the rabbit embark on very different rescue missions.

In preparing for her mission, Gidget being taught ‘to cat’ by Chloe is a particular hoot. And no spoilers, but the ‘crazy cat lady’ stuff is very funny too. And of course there has to be a Cone of Shame episode too.

The voice talent is as good as ever – particular nods for Patton Oswalt as Max, Kevin Hart as Snowball, Jenny Slate as Gidgit, Lake Bell as Chloe, Tiffany Haddish as Daisy and Harrison Ford, in his first voice performance, as sheepdog Rooster – a reference to True Grit’s Rooster Cogburn, perhaps?

The bright, glossy Illumination backgrounds are here again, but during a countryside sequence the realism of the mountains and woods is a reminder of the extraordinary quality of background painting in the early Disney era (think Snow White in particular).

Chris Renaud takes the directing helm once again, with a script from Brian Lynch that provides plenty for all the family.

One of the comments I’ve seen about Illumination is that is isn’t Disney/Pixar. I can understand why you’d want to be Disney/Pixar, but there’s not really a lot of point given that Disney/Pixar already exists.

In which case, if you can’t be Disney/Pixar, then be yourself – and that’s exactly what Illumination is doing and to a consistently high standard.

Anyone dissing The Grinch can do one

Apparently, Rolling Stone doesn’t rate Illumination’s new animation of The Grinch. Wow. The Grinch isn’t rock ’n’ roll enough for Rolling Stone.

That should be a recommendation.

It’s a children’s story. It’s a film for small people. The OH and I went because we – okay, I in particular – love Illumination. I spent some periods of the film simply revelling in that studio’s style of animation. envious of the digital vision.

It’s Scrooge for children, so no spoilers are needed. And its anti-consumerist message – true to Dr Seuss’s 1950s original book – should be welcomed by anyone with a brain.

It dodges sentimentality, but Scott Mosier and Yarrow Cheney’s film has plenty of heart and more than a few laughs.

Beautifully animated, it also makes great use of music (including original work by Danny Elfman) and has an excellent voice cast, topped by Benedict Cumberbatch as the Grinch himself, with Pharrell Williams as the narrator and Her Magnificence Angela Lansbury as the mayor.

Oh. And it is preceded by a new Minions short.

I’m happy. If you’re not happy with that, then tough.

The Grinch is now on general release.

Isle of Dogs provides a cracking return to the cinema

Sixteen years I stayed away from the cinema – now, a few weeks feels extreme. 

There are so many new releases coming up in the coming weeks that the want-to-see list is taking on a level that will extend movie going beyond the twice a month that characterised the first part of the year.

But a combination of a short trip away, a family death and then major surgery has left me facing catch up, so to start that process, The Other Half and I opted to see Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs before anything else.

Set in a dystopian near-future Japan, it tells the story of a corrupt mayor who whips up fear and hatred of dogs to help retain power. The canine-hating official then manages to have all dogs banished to the nearby Trash Island – beginning with Spots, the dog who guards his 12-year-old ward, Atari.

But Atari refuses to accept this lying down, and flies out to the island to find his beloved dog. Helped in his quest by a group of five dogs, led by Chief, a stray who is determined never to yield to a human ‘master’.

An attempt to ‘rescue’ the child goes awry – and with an election nearing, Mayor Kobayashi sees an opportunity to kill off all the dogs for once and for all.

It’s as quirky and offbeat as you would expect of Anderson. The stop-mo animation style works wonderfully: visually, it’s a superb look, with countless moments that you see again.

The plot is coherent, but it’s also a deluge of ideas: there are themes and nods here about the environment, about animal experimentation, about politicians whipping up hatred – and such hatred leading to death camps. It’s ‘about’ our relationship with the non-human animals in our lives, but also therefore about what it means to be human.

There’s another excellent score from this year’s Oscar winner, Alexandre Desplat, and a voice cast of stars that says everything about Anderson’s reputation and concomitant pulling power these days.

Okay, it would have been nice not to have had to have a non-Japanese character as provide the human rallying call late on, but in general, the film has a feeling of homage to Japanese culture. Indeed, this is very much supported by the way that culture is featured throughout, from the creation of sushi to the drumming and the Kabuki theatre, all of which create a sense of authenticity and respect.

The script is dry as a bone – in places very funny.

It’s difficult to think of anything that you could compare it to, so I won’t bother. So suffice it to say that it’s just a total delight.

Peter Rabbit – laughs aplenty, but no Paddington

Take a beloved, anthropomorphised children’s character, add in top-notch animation, give it a bit of modern ‘attitude’ and pow! you have a bona fide cinematic hit.

This seems to the thinking behind Peter Rabbit, Will Gluck’s new film, which is based on the stories of Beatrix Potter.

It’s entirely possible that Sony and co also thought that they could emulate Paddington, the first film of which was released in 2014, to almost universal acclaim. News of Gluck’s project first surfaced in April 2015.

It has already proved a success at the box office (it’s taken $123.6m against a budget of $50m at the time of writing), if not so much critically.

It’s been suggested that Potter would be rolling in her grave. Now it’s difficult to believe that, if you took the Tardis and visited her at her farm, sometime before her death in 1943, and showed her this film, she would be enraptured. Because this really is a different time.

Indeed, in 1938, Potter turned down a plan from Disney to film the story. In a letter to a friend, she wrote: “I am not very hopeful about the result. They propose to use cartoons; it seems that a succession of figures can be joggled together to give an impression of motion. I don’t think the pictures would be satisfactory ... I am not troubling myself about it!”

If we want to continue the comparisons, Paddington creator Michael Bond was writing a lot more recently, so his stories are far less difficult to update – indeed, he even appeared in the first film, so it’s safe to assume his approval.

This Peter Rabbit retains nothing of the late-Victorian gentility and pastoral quality of Potter’s original tale (written in 1893 and first published nine years later), even though the creative team includes a number of her original illustrations, supposedly painted here by struggling artist Bea, one of the two main human characters.

The plot is simple and continues the scenario set up but Potter: the ongoing struggle between Mr McGregor and the rabbits over the produce in the former’s garden – a struggle that we know claimed Peter’s father in days gone by.

Here, when the old man’s heart gives out in the middle of a particularly tough battle, the rabbits and their friends believe they have ensured the garden is theirs for ever, along with the house.

But that’s before McGregor’s fastidious nephew Thomas arrives – initially to sell his inherited property, before becoming smitten by near neighbour and rabbit lover Bea.

Rose Byrne and Domhnall Gleeson turn in sound performances as Bea and Thomas, but at the end of the day, this is mostly about the animals.

The animation is simply outstanding. Much of the voice characterisation is fine, but while James Corden as Peter is nowhere near as irritating as he can be, he’s also too old and too knowing to really make it work.

Indeed, that knowing quality is something that the film seems set on – perhaps in an effort to distance itself from the charm of Paddington even at the same time as time as trying to hitch itself to the same wagon. If there is a sense that it doesn’t entirely know what it wants to be, then perhaps that’s not surprising.

It was mostly filmed in Australia, which probably explains why it rarely manages to actually look like the English Lakes and why there is nothing even remotely like a Cumbrian accent to be heard.

There are, however, plenty of laugh-out-loud moments (the children in the cinema clearly loved it) and the animation really is excellent – and for a post-work, Friday evening trip to the movies, that’s not to be sniffed at.

Then again, perhaps in 25 years, it’ll have attained cult status, where showings are attended by furries, who pelt the screen with blackberries at the appropriate moment. Stranger things have happened …