Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022)

Puss in Boots 2 is:

• The best movie in the Shrek franchise.
• The best Dreamworks movie since at least How to Train Your Dragon 2, maybe 1.
• The best mainstream American animated movie since at least Spider-Verse, and possibly as far back as the early 2010s.
• A vessel for the best animated villain in so long I can’t even think of the last one better than this — you might have to go to the Disney Renaissance.
• And, in all seriousness, maybe the best movie of 2022.

A kooky horror screwball that escalates and escalates, featuring some all-timer body mutilation effects. A whole bucket of fun. The plot is shapeless, but that’s fine. The script is really nasty to its women and generous to its men in a cynical sort of way, which is slightly less fine.

I’m seriously bummed I didn’t see this one on the big screen.

La La Land is a perfect blend of Hollywood dreaming, wistful romance, classic musical, and visual delight. The pseudo-three-strip-Technicolor is like a five-course dinner for the eyes. A true feast of colors in every scene.

Emma Stone has been stealing my heart ever since Superbad, but this might be her most adorable role ever. Ryan Gosling, meanwhile, will always be a cherubic weirdo (see: Lars and the Real Girl), but his warm intensity is perfect for the character. And I’m blown away that he’s actually playing the piano here; I went in expecting camera trickery with a piano-playing double, but he has some real musicianship.

The songs range from fine to brilliant, with “City of Stars” and its leitmotif tracing the Seb and Mia’s romantic arc the absolute peak.

The ending montage is a phantasmagoria of filmmaking, and also perfectly emotional and bittersweet.

The only thing keeping me from top marks is that I think the movie bungles Seb’s career storyline. His abrupt shift from “schmuck playing keytar at pool parties” to “disenchanted star jazz pianist” lurched me out of the movie for much of the second act.

I love seeing big-budget, original musicals — especially when they’re this visionary and affectionate.

This is the rare childhood favorite that just gets better and better as I get older.

The animation is simple and great and funny, with a shagginess that befits the story. The voicework, too, gets tremendous value and authenticity from being voiced by real kids.

But it’s two things that really elevate this into masterpiece territory: the protagonist and the jazz.

Charlie Brown is the perfect lens into holiday blues and existential crises, fueled equally by self-defeating skepticism and idealistic hope for something more profound from the season.

And Vince Guaraldi’s music is beautiful on its own, but magical synergy with the special. The film and the music bring out richness in the other.

The ending is unabashedly a Christian perspective on the holiday, yet I find it to be something more universal than that. It shows the holidays to be a time for reflection and new beginnings. I honestly think it’s beautiful.

It’s great for all the reasons you remember: Seuss’s verses are wonderful and whimsical; Jones’ animation is colorful and playful (the faces!); Karloff is perfect as the narrator and Grinch; Ravenscroft’s baritone insults are a hoot; and the warm holiday ending is a great payoff on a fun reverse-Santa story.

I’ll probably be watching this every winter for the rest of my life.

Mickey’s Christmas Carol makes an excellent way to introduce younger kids to the Christmas Carol story, but it’s honestly appealing to all ages. In its 25 minutes, it cuts Dickens’ story down to its most essential beats without sacrificing the novel’s tone. Indeed, this is pretty scary as far as Disney toons go, with a particularly creepy use of shadows for Goofy’s Marley. Doubly so for the Christmas Future segment, which pulls no punches: we get a full on descent to Hell.

Alan Young gives a notably nuanced performance as Ebenezer Scrooge McDuck, wringing as much nastiness and regret as one could hope for in family film.

With such a short runtime and the friendly faces of familiar characters, this is instantly appealing to the very young, including my 4 year old, who really dug it. (I’ll show her Muppet Christmas Carol next.)

Alas, that accessibility and short run time are ultimately the film’s shortcomings. You can’t get the richness of introspection and redemption of the source material with every beat of the story cut to the bone.

It’s still a worthy watch whether or not you have little ones with you.

Bill Melendez’s simple but expressive animation continues and even expands a bit in this autumnal follow-up to the iconic Christmas special (though technically this is the third in the series, with the summer baseball special Charlie Brown All Stars preceding this by a few months). I love how much personality Melendez and co. get from the simple comics-inspired character designs.

The large swaths of autumn colors — oranges, greens, reds, browns — bring life to the special. It makes me want to grab a sweater and dive right in. I have a special admiration for the inky skies, which just make my heart ache they’re so beautiful.

Vince Guaraldi’s score remains absolutely perfect for the Peanuts midcentury ennui vibe, even if this soundtrack lacks a number as iconic as “Chrismastime is Here.”

The best story thread is, of course, Linus’s steadfast belief in The Great Pumpkin and the way everyone else reacts to it. It makes a fascinating counterpoint to the unambiguously Christian conclusion of the Christmas special, here a satire of religious obstinacy.

The rest of the story is a bit of a mixed bag for me. While I love the use of color and perspective in Snoopy’s fighter pilot excursion (and it provides a fascinating echo of self-delusion from other plot threads), I still feel like it sucks the wind out of the story’s momentum. The Snoopy piano dance segment also feels oddly perfunctory compared to how much fun it is in the Christmas special.

“I got a rock.”

Zombies (stylized Z-O-M-B-I-E-S like a pep cheer) is an utterly bizarre, big-budget (for TV) romantic musical about humans and zombies co-mingling, set in a garish, pastel-colored parody of high school.

There is a lot to unpack in this film. I won’t go too far down the rabbit hole in this review, but my main reaction is bewilderment… it’s a strange movie.

For starters, the racism parable of humans vs. zombies is so insipid that I choose to believe it is in fact a satire of stupid race-themed middlebrow movies. Its gonzo, tone-deaf metaphors frequently end up hilarious. (Then again, it plays the conclusion pretty straight, so the stupidity might not, in fact, be tongue-in-cheek. I pray that I’m wrong.)

The movie’s color scheme is fascinating and ugly, and I kind of love it. The “zombies” are all basically Jack Nicholson’s Joker — pale skin, green hair, and purple/dark green garments. Meanwhile, the high school and human neighborhood are all hyper-saturated coral and mint green, seemingly inspired by the pastel-tinted German expressionistic utopia/dystopia of Edward Scissorhands. The set design is suitably weird, too, though I wish they had gone full postmodern Caligari unhinged.

The soundtrack is full of pop and hip-hop earworms, which is not to say the songs are good. I could see myself relistening to a few of these a few times, but none will likely ever enter my regular rotation. But the “Someday” scene is probably the most charming of the movie, warm and well-directed and -choreographed.

And I mostly liked the cast! The leads have suitable chemistry and on-screen charm, and their sidekicks are solid too. I just wish the Shia LaBeouf -looking villain did a little bit more to differentiate himself.

Overall, I recommend it only for those with a taste for both teenybopper musicals and lightweight weirdness, but I will admit I had a decent, “WTF”-fueled time watching.

Quick overview for the uninitiated (like I was last year): A bunch of interconnected shorts adding up to feature length telling the story of brothers Wirt and Greg wandering some sort of fantastical woods in late autumn. Lots of inspired spookiness, huge variety of creatures and styles, lovely painted backgrounds, and one of the best fall-decay vibes of any piece of art I’ve ever seen. Just go see it if you haven’t.

My reaction this time around, semi-spoilery:

I loved it even more this year than last. Its sprawling autumnal tones and early/mid-century influences make every frame a treat; I found lots I didn’t notice the first time. And there’s lots of foreshadowing to plot points that I didn’t pick up the first time through.

Greg’s random silliness stuck out to me less this time around, in part because I was prepared for it and in part because I could better see its thematic purpose in providing tension between him and Wirt. I also felt less disappointed by the inclusion and connection to the “real world,” as I appreciated the way it amplified the deathly/decaying feeling of the woods.

It wraps up in such a satisfying manner that it almost made me want to loop back and start again right away. (Though I still think Greg should have named the frog The Beast.)

The episodes still feel quite short but I’ve come around on the length. I’m not sure many of these premises could sustain much more screen time (though a few certainly could).

My two favorite episodes remain “Into the Unknown” (clarinets and poetry) and “The Ringing of the Bell” (Auntie Whispers!).

Jason Funderburker’s oft-repeated name and frog voice will never not make me laugh.

The story is by-the-numbers, but I still found this fairly enjoyable to watch. For one, the film’s look pops off the screen — the colors are bright and saturated, the textures extremely tactile, almost like a felt/arts-and-crafts aesthetic.

Additionally, the movie leans hard into its “dance party” ethos, to the point that this plays more like a jukebox musical (with one or two original numbers). This has roots in the story and characterization, and it really drives the film’s high energy level.

Some of the characters are forgettable (and the goblin-like Bergens are so convincingly ugly that it’s unappealing to look at), and only a couple of beats are even remotely surprising, but there are worse ways to spend an hour and a half with your kids.