Faerie Tale Theatre Reviews: Puss in Boots

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Alfre Woodard, anthropomorphic, anthropomorphic animal, anthropomorphic animals, Ben Vereen, boots, castle, cat, charles perrault, Constantino Fortunato, Daniel Frishman, Faerie Tale Theatre, faerie tale theatre reviews, fairy tale, fairy tale adaptation, fairy tale creatures, fairy tale history, fairy tale origins, fairy tales, fairytale, Fantasy, French, french fairy tale, funny, funny animal, giambattista basile, Giovanni Francesco Straparola, Girolamo Morlini, Gregory Hines, italian fairytale, italy, King, Marquis of Carabas, Mayor Ben, mentor, miller, miller's son, mother goose, ogre, princess, puss in boots, review, shapeshifter, shelley duvall, talking animal, talking cat, television review, three brothers, three sons, toei animation, Tony Cox, trickster, trickster mentor, tv review, Up On The Shelf, Zoobilee Zoo

“Bootmaker, I’m looking for a boot as light as air and fast as the wind. A boot that makes no sound, leaves no tracks.” “You’re in luck, I’ve got one pair left!”
– A feline acquires his defining bit of footwear

Fairytales are full of trickster mentors that aid the hero in their quest. The amount of stories where the mentor takes the form of a wily animal are beyond counting. Cats are a particularly popular choice for the role on account of folklorists making their natural stealthiness and hunting prowess shorthand for cunning and guile. And there’s no fairy tale feline more renowned for their craftiness than Puss in Boots.

Walking into this review I assumed Puss in Boots was going to be a Charles Perrault original, which is how I was introduced to it, but the story actually has Italian roots. The oldest known version is 1550’s Constantino Fortunato, or “Fortunate Constantine” by author and fairytale collector Giovanni Francesco Straparola. One of several tales included in the two-volume collection The Facetious Nights, the story is about a poor boy who marries a princess thanks to a clever cat. It’s interesting to note that this cat isn’t just a magical talking cat but a fairy in disguise; a detail that fell by the wayside in future retellings. Writer Girolamo Morlini wrote his version of Puss in Boots shortly afterwards (fair turnabout since Straparola often borrowed from Morlini), followed by Giambatta Basile in 1634. Then Charles Perrault popularized the tale in France as part of his fairy tale collection (the same that also launched the character of Mother Goose), and the feline’s fame hasn’t dwindled since. He’s even well-known in Japan, where a popular film by Toei Animation has made him the studio’s mascot.

Puss in Boots is one of those fairytales that falls into a gray area where the moral is concerned…in that there isn’t really one at all. If you go by a purely textual reading of the story, the takeaway is that lying, cheating and stealing will get you what you want without any consequences; not much of a lesson (but one that’s far too relevant if you look at the current state of the Republican Party). On the flip side, Puss uses his wits to make the most of his and his master’s lousy circumstances. He’s simply doing what he can with what little he has to improve their situation. The story takes place in a society that favors the first-born son, so it’s easy to root for the youngest son stuck with naught but a wisecracking mouse-catcher while his selfish brothers have the means to support themselves. The men and monsters Puss deceives are largely deserving of his trickery.

Tying into that is the unusual choice of clothing this cat in footwear. It’s not just for aesthetics, I assure you. Shoes were a luxury afforded only to young people of the upper-class in the Middle Ages because they were outgrown or worn through so quickly. As such, boots were a sign of wealth and status. In both the original fairytale and today’s episode, the king refuses to grant Puss an audience until he learns he wears boots. Appearances and presentation played as all-encompassing a role in society then as they do now, but the story of Puss in Boots shows that anyone with brains and the ability to pass off as refined can game the system. Make what you will of that.

Faerie Tale Theatre Reviews: Pinocchio

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a real boy, adaptation, Blue Fairy, boy, carl reiner, Carlo Collodi, Disney, donkey, donkey scene, donkey transformation, donkeys, Faerie Tale Theatre, faerie tale theatre reviews, fairy, fairy tale, fairy tale adaptation, fairy tale history, fairy tales, fairytale, Gepetto, giant whale, italian fairytale, italian village, italy, james coburn, jim belushi, lainie kazan, marionette, michael richards, origin story, paul reubens, Pinocchio, priest, puppet, puppets, real boy, review, review series, screen adaptation, series review, sofia, swallowed by a whale, television review, tv review, whale, woodcarver

“Gepetto has wished for a brand new boy,
so you have been chosen to bring him joy…I hope.”
– The spell bringing Pinocchio to life, albeit with some shaky confidence

Hi boys and girls and everyone else! Today’s secret word is strings! So anytime someone says that word, scream real loud!

To say Pinocchio is just another fairytale character would be a gross understatement. Whether you’re familiar with the mischievous marionette through Disney’s animated movie, his appearances in the Shrek films, or some other third thing, everyone knows the living lie-detector puppet who wants to be a real boy. So where did he come from? Gepetto may be Pinocchio’s father in-story, but it was Italian author Carlo Collodi who gave him life on the page in 1881. Collodi wasn’t a stranger to fairy tales, having previously translated several French ones to his native tongue. When he was invited to try writing his own stories, he wound up making history.

Released in a serial format in one of the earliest known children’s magazines, Le avventure di Pinocchio highlighted the titular puppet’s trials and tribulations as he navigated the world around him. Pinocchio was meant to serve as an example of behavior for kids, and was punished or rewarded for his actions accordingly – but mostly punished. Those of you who’ve grown up knowing only Disney’s version might be surprised at how much the film deviates from Collodi’s writings, and the numerous bleak tangents that were omitted (though considering the frightening scenes that remain, I wouldn’t say the feature we got was all that saccharine). The original story ended on a rather grim note with Pinocchio left hanging from a noose after the Fox and Cat swindle him out of his money (I should mention at this point that Collodi was somewhat inspired by The Brothers Grimm, which certainly accounts for some of the darker elements). Popular demand rescued Pinocchio from his cruel fate, however, and his story continued for many months afterward. His complete adventures were compiled into a single book in 1883, and the puppet’s popularity hasn’t waned since. He’s a cultural icon in Italy, nearly at the same level that Mickey Mouse is in America. Some analyses even place him on the same epic heroes pedestal as Odysseus, Dante, and Gilgamesh, claiming his journey is just as rich an exploration of the human condition as their ancient myths.

As for me personally, I’ve made my adoration for the Disney film clear in the past (or rather the original, seeing as we’re getting a live-action remake of it next month). Walt and his team knew how to weave the separate tales into one cohesive narrative and made our hero a much more likable but still flawed and interesting character. That, combined with music and iconography that is rarely matched these days, cements it as one of the best animated features in the history of the medium – and nearly every version of Pinocchio that came after has tried and failed to be just like it. That’s not my love for Disney talking either. Most every iteration I’ve seen borrows or outright steals the same exact characters, designs and beats (in the same order) as the Disney one when not awkwardly incorporating details from the Collodi stories. So how does Faerie Tale Theatre’s take on the puppet’s odyssey fare?

January Review: Pinocchio (1940)

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1940's, a real boy, adaptation, animated, animated feature, animated movie, animated movie review, animation, anthropomorphic, anthropomorphic animal, anthropomorphic animals, Bill Tytla, Blue Fairy, Carlo Collodi, children's story, children’s book, Christian Rub, classic, classic disney, classic Hollywood, cleo, Cliff Edwards, coachman, conscience, cricket, Dick Jones, Dickie Jones, Disney, disney animated, disney animated feature, disney animated movie, disney animation, disney golden age, disney review, donkey, donkey scene, donkey transformation, donkeys, figaro, foulfellow, fox and cat, Frank Churchill, Frank Thomas, Fred Moore, Gepetto, giant whale, gideon, Give A Little Whistle, golden age of Hollywood, hand drawn animation, Hi Fiddle Dee Dee, honest john, I've Got No Strings, italy, j. worthington foulfellow, jiminy cricket, Joe Grant, John Lounsbury, lampwick, Little Wooden Head, marionette, Mel Blanc, Milt Kahl, monstro, nine old men, Pinocchio, pleasure island, puppet, puppet show, puppeteers, puppets, real boy, star, stromboli, swallowed by a whale, traditional animation, transformation, Turn On The Old Music Box, Ukelele Ike, Vladimir Tytla, Walt Disney, Walter Catlett, whale, whale chase, When You Wish Upon a Star, wishing star, Wolfgang Reitherman, woodcarver, Woolie Reitherman

“When You Wish Upon A Star
Makes No Difference Who You Are
Anything Your Heart Desires
Will Come To You…”

In my last review, I compared Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to Star Wars; a blockbuster that captivated audiences, revolutionized filmmaking, and was an all-around fun adventure with a likable cast. Well if Snow White is Disney’s Star Wars – before Disney owned Lucasfilm, I mean – then Pinocchio is undoubtedly Disney’s Empire Strikes Back: refined visuals, more complex storytelling and characters, and much, MUCH darker.

The success of Snow White marked the beginning of big things for Disney animation. The sizable influx of cash meant Walt could build a bigger studio, hire more staff, and give his projects a noticeably larger budget. The question is, where to go from here? What movie could possibly follow the fairest one of all? Investors were clamoring for a sequel and the idea was toyed with for a time, but Walt was not a one-trick pony. Then animator Norm Ferguson brought a copy of Carlo Collodi’s Le avventuri di Pinocchio to Walt’s attention. Walt and a few of his key guys had attended a performance of Yasha Frank’s successful staging of Pinocchio prior to Snow White’s release and noted the story had possibilities for adaptation – plenty of spectacle, cute comic relief critters, etc. Seeing that book sparked Walt’s memory; after reading it, he intended to make Pinocchio his third animated venture behind the upcoming Bambi. But when that movie ran into production troubles, Pinocchio was bumped up to its place. Does it measure up to Snow White, though? Let’s find out.

November Review: A Night at the Opera (1935)

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1930's, Allan Jones, America, Anvil Chorus, black and white, black and white movie, Chico, Chico Marx, classic comedy, Comedy, comedy review, Cosi Cosa, golden age of Hollywood, Great Depression, Groucho, Groucho Marx, Gummo, Gummo Marx, Harpo, Harpo Marx, Hollywood, Hollywood musical, Il Trovatore, immigrants, italy, Kitty Carlisle, Margaret Dumont, Marx, Marx Brothers, movie review, musical, musical review, Night at the Opera, opera, opera star, Paggliachi, romantic cliche, romantic comedy, sanity clause, two hard boiled eggs, Zeppo, Zeppo Marx

“And now, on with the opera – Let joy be unconfined! Let there be dancing in the streets, drinking in the saloons, and necking in the parlor! Play, don.”
– Otis B. Driftwood, aka Groucho Marx opening a new opera season

Hi there, I hope everyone’s had a Happy Halloween, and I’d like to welcome back any and all newcomers who discovered this blog through Prydain On Film, which highlighted my two-part review of The Black Cauldron on their blog the same day I posted it. I’m happy to have you here.

Stick around, check out the other movie reviews I’ve done.

Be sure to read my retrospective on Gravity Falls too.

Please don’t leave.

Anyway, I’m especially excited – and more than a little daunted – for this month’s review, as I finally get to talk about some of my favorite comedians of all time, The Marx Brothers.

Julius, Leonard, Herbert and Adolph Arthur – aka Groucho, Chico, Zeppo and Harpo – were sons of Jewish immigrants who discovered they had quite the knack for making people laugh as well as making music. Since their parents were already in the entertainment business, they had almost no trouble making a name for themselves. Groucho grew infamous for his quick biting wit, Chico for his fast-talking, womanizing and heavy faux-Italian accent, and Harpo for his childlike mischief and mute pantomiming (when not communicating through whistles and horn honks). Zeppo could be just as hilarious as his siblings onstage – for some performances he even stood in for Groucho and nobody could tell the difference – though he was often relegated to playing the straight man to his brothers’ antics. While already a hit on the vaudeville circuit and Broadway, the brothers made the leap from stage to screen with the advent of talkies and their fame quintupled overnight.

The Marxes’ unique brand of humor continues to influence comedians to this day; you can see them (especially Groucho) in the likes of Alan Alda, Lucille Ball, Judd Apatow, Bugs Bunny, Mystery Science Theater 3000, and the cast of Animaniacs. If you were to watch their films – their early ones in particular – you could say the threadbare plots were only there for them to hang jokes on. Cliché stories surrounding college football, high-class parties and traditional Hollywood romances were not safe from the brothers’ brand of anarchic humor; they poked holes in conventions of society and film, often breaking the fourth wall with the force of a sledgehammer to remind the audience how much of a farce even the most serious of scenarios really are. Their “us vs. them” antics helped America laugh through the Great Depression and World War 2, however not all of them were complete successes in their day.

After their ahead of its time war satire Duck Soup nearly bankrupted Paramount, the Brothers were cut loose from the studio and set adrift in Hollywood. Luckily they had an ardent admirer in Irving Thalberg, big shot producer at MGM, who quickly signed them on. Fortunate as this was, it didn’t come without a few changes to the Marxes which to this day angers certain die-hard fans:

First, Zeppo followed in forgotten Marx brother Gummo’s footsteps by quitting acting and reinventing himself as a successful agent, thus whittling the comic quartet down to a trio.

Second, their method of taking shots at anyone in their path was altered to karmic trickery; mess with them or their friends and only then do the gloves come off.

Third, in an effort to appeal to more women, a romance subplot would be added to their films wherein the brothers would help whatever couple was the focus hook up and achieve their dreams.

But does this warm touch and loss of one sibling mean the famous brothers have lost their edge? Will the inclusion of the opera, which was perceived as highbrow art for the upper class back then as much as it is today, serve as an excellent backdrop for the Marxes’ shenanigans or is it merely a musical distraction? And more importantly, can I actually make with the funny in this review as good as the Marxes did in their own film? Let’s find out.

July Review: Much Ado About Nothing (1993)

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1990's, 90's, antonio, beatrice, beetlejuice, ben elton, benedick, borachio, branaugh, brian blessed, claudio, cliche, constable dogberry, contempt farewell, denzel washington, dogberry, don pedro, double wedding, emma thompson, fake funeral, feminist, feminist shakespeare, forget not that i am an ass, gilderoy lockhart, hero, hey nonny nonny, i am an ass, i love nothing in the world so well as you, i love you with so much of my heart that there is none left to protest, italy, keanu, keanu reeves, kenneth branaugh, leonato, margaret, masquerade, masquerade ball, michael keaton, misunderstanding, movie review, much ado about nothing, pardon goddess of the night, patrick doyle, pedro, play, professor trelawney, Romance, romantic cliche, romantic cliches, romantic comedy, romantic interlude, sexton, Shakespeare, shakespeare translation, shakesperean play, sigh no more, stratford-upon-avon, strike up pipers, taming of the shrew, third act misunderstanding, tuscan countryside, tuscany, twelfth night, verona, wedding, william shakespeare

(DISCLAIMER: This blog is not for profit. All images and footage used below are property of their respective companies unless stated otherwise. I do not claim ownership of this material.)

“Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers ever.
One foot on sea, and one on shore,
to one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so
But let them go
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all
Your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny.”

Ah, William Shakespeare. The Bard. The muse of many. Stratford-Upon-Avon’s golden boy. The man who put humanity to prose and through his many poems, songs and plays revealed the nature of –

(sigh)

I had a feeling this would happen.

Now that I have your attention, let me say that I get what many of you are feeling right now. Chances are you were forced to read Shakespeare in your high school English class and you most likely found it the most dull indecipherable piece of literature to be praised as art since…well, take your pick of the other classics you probably had to read. Sadly, that’s the trap most English teachers fall into. Shakespeare wrote poetry, which is prime for studying and easy enough for most folks to understand, but he’s primarily famous for his plays, and plays aren’t supposed to be read like any other book – they’re supposed to be seen. Even I in my obsessive bookworminess had difficulty understanding what was really happening while reading Hamlet and Macbeth unless I read the side notes or my teacher put on film versions of the plays that we were reviewing.

I had a general grasp of how important the works of Shakespeare were and even had some interest in learning more about them unlike my bored classmates, but I was never quite able to appreciate the works of Will ’til long after I left the classroom setting. Much of that is primarily thanks to the videos of Kyle Kallgren and Overly Sarcastic Productions. Both reviewers have very distinctive styles – one an in-depth analysis that balances familiarity with the subject with pop culture playfulness, the other a speedy anime-drawn recap marked by a few snarky asides and often a gentle acoustic cover of a song related to the subject played over the end credits – but they both made me realize the reason why Shakespeare has persisted for over 400 years and is taught ad nauseum: his stories are universal. Be it love, war, vengeance, betrayal, magic, history, religion, family, legacy, the transition from youth to adulthood, gender and societal roles, or the very nature of being, the Bard has covered most every genre and theme known to man, and created some of the most popular stories and characters that have been revisited countless times by an infinite parade of directors, actors, cultures, and storytellers. One particular auteur was singled out by Kyle for revitalizing Shakespeare for the silver screen in the much latter half of the 20th century.

Kenneth Branaugh, the finest slice of Northern Irish ham you’ll ever see on stage or screen, and one of the most highly regarded Shakespearean thespians of our time, having both directed and starred in lavish film versions of Henry the Fifth, Hamlet, Love’s Labors Lost, As You Like It, a filmed stage adaptation of The Winter’s Tale and the movie I’ll be reviewing today, Much Ado About Nothing – or as I like to call it, the blueprint for every future rom-com ever made. There’s fanciful innuendos, a main couple and a smaller less important couple that we both want to see hook up, a black best friend providing both sage advice and comic relief, misunderstandings that could easily be cleared up in a matter of seconds if they stopped to think about it, and much of it hinges around a “will they-won’t they” plot that you could probably guess ends with “they will”. Branaugh can be beautifully subtle in both acting and style, but boy can he bring on the bombast whether we want it or not. In this case his over-the-top hamminess and obvious love for the material makes this outing a fun ride.

If you’re concerned that this review is going to be too highbrow compared to my usual work, there’s no need to worry. In some ways I’m on the same level as you guys. I confess that I’ve never seen any of Shakespeare’s plays performed live, I’m not very familiar with some of the language and phrasing outside of what little I remember from high school and some Youtube videos explaining select passages, and sadly my Cine-Kyle is still in the mail, but that’s never stopped me from enjoying many of the Bard’s works as seen on film (nor has it stopped me from trying to sound smarter than I really am). Once you understand the actions behind the flowery language, though, it’s pretty simple to take it from there. Never fear, I will be acting as your translator in my own unique way throughout this review.