78 Minutes, Color Cell Animation, USA, 2000
Written By: David Reynolds, Chris Williams, Mark Dindal,
Roger Allers & Matthew Jacobs
Directed By: Mark Dindal
Dramatis Personae:
David
Spade is Kuzco, spoiled teenage
Emperor of a re-imagined Incan Empire.
John
Goodman is Pacha, village elder, llama farmer, family man, and all-around
decent guy; KuzcoÕs perfect comedic foil.
Eartha
Kitt is Yzma, ancient advisor to
Kuzco, and evil sorceress on the side.
Patrick Warburton is Kronk, YzmaÕs himbo henchman.
Wendy Malick is Chicha, PachaÕs supportive
and pregnant wife.
Commentary:
The late 1980s and early 1990s were a
renaissance for Disney feature-length animation. Films such as The Little
Mermaid, The Lion King, and Beauty and the Beast came out in this period,
and they possessed that rare combination of critical and mass appeal. Beauty
and the Beast was even nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, a thing
unheard-of for an animated feature film. Alas, nothing can last forever, and
from 1995 on Disney animated film suffered a slow decline. As to why this
happened, most critics point the finger at Michael Eisner, CEO of Disney at the
time. A high-powered executive and control freak, Eisner first brought Disney
great success, but eventually his micromanagement style alienated much of the
talent behind the scenes. Most notably, he caused Jeffrey Katzenberg, head of
the feature animation department, to resign in 1994 (Katzenberg would go on to
found Dreamworks and get his revenge on Eisner with Shrek). A few years later,
his feud with Roy Disney – nephew of Walt and champion of animation
– led him to shut down production of DisneyÕs traditional cell animation
out of pure spite. This would prove to be EisnerÕs undoing, as it led the
semi-retired Roy Disney to re-join the Board of Directors and ultimately call
for EisnerÕs ousting as CEO. Thus proving that you DO NOT screw with Roy
Disney; heÕs a sweet guy, but mess with the Disney image and he will END YOU.
The EmperorÕs New Groove is a product of this
tumultuous time, a troubled production that went through massive conceptual
changes from beginning to end. The end result is an odd little film, with a
very Òun-DisneyÓ feel to it. There are no musical numbers, no princesses, no
loveable anthropomorphic animals (well, a couple, but ÒloveableÓ is a stretch).
ItÕs more like something the Warner Brothers might have done in their primeÉand
I mean that in a good way.
Our story begins in a stylized South American
rainforest, where a red and black llama sits, alone and miserable, in the
middle of a downpour. A voiceover narration tells us that we are looking at
Kuzco, the former Incan Emperor (the voiceover is also being done by Kuzco, by
the way). We then flash back to see what happened to bring Kuzco to this lowly
state.
As a human, Kuzco is a spoiled teenager, having
been pampered from birth, and firmly believing that the entire Empire exists
solely for his amusement and gratification. He even has his own theme song.
Nevertheless, he is not completely clueless: he understands perfectly well that
his chief advisor, an ancient sorceress named Yzma, has designs on the throne
herself. With Yzma being transparently evil, obviously this would not be a good
thing, and so Kuzco has her fired at the first opportunity – granted, he
does so for his own selfish reasons – and gets down to his daily
business.
His first order of business that day is a
meeting with Pacha, the leader of the closest village to the imperial palace.
PachaÕs village is the primary supplier of food and llamas to the palace, so
when Pacha got the imperial summons he assumed it was something very important.
Unfortunately, he was right. Kuzco intends to tear down PachaÕs village and
build himself a summer home there; he just wanted Pacha to let him know where
they got the most sun. Pacha is understandably upset by this news, but Kuzco is
indifferent and simply has the peasant thrown out.
Meanwhile, Yzma fumes over her dismissal, and
formulates a plan to get her revenge. At a farewell dinner tonight, Kronk will
poison the EmperorÕs drink. They will then make it look like an accident and
take over running the Empire. Unfortunately Kronk, while a surprisingly good
chef and dedicated host, is not the sharpest knife in the drawer: he grabs the
wrong potion from YzmaÕs secret lab, and instead of killing him, the potion
turns Kuzco into a llama. Yzma has Kronk knock him out and take him out of town
to finish the job. Along the way, Kronk has an attack of conscience and cannot
bring himself to simply kill Kuzco. In a panic, he falls down a flight of
stairs, and the sack containing the unconscious llama ends up on PachaÕs cart,
who is loading up to begin the long sad journey home.
Once home, Pacha is greeted by his two happy
children and his pregnant wife, and thus we see a glimpse of his idealistic
rustic life. He cannot bring himself to tell his wife what happened with the
Emperor, so he heads back out to untie his llama and unload his cart. In so
doing, he discovers Kuzco. Confused and traumatized by being turned into a llama
and whisked away to a peasant village, Kuzco at first accuses Pacha of
kidnapping him. Eventually SOME common sense enters his head, and he realizes
that turning him into a llama and then kidnapping him is a far-too ridiculous
plan for a simple peasant to even WANT to come up with. Kuzco decides the best
course of action is to return to the palace and get Yzma to turn him back into
a human, and orders Pacha to guide him. Of course, by this time, Pacha has
realized what an opportunity has been dropped into his lap, and refuses to do
so until Kuzco agrees to build his summer house somewhere else. Appalled at the
idea of having to make a deal with a commoner, Kuzco decides to simply set off
and find his own way back to the palace. Pacha tries to warn him against
traveling the dangerous jungle at night, but Kuzco ignores him.
Kuzco might have done well to head PachaÕs
warnings, however. He gets himself lost in record time, and is soon menaced by
a pack of ferocious jaguars and one mischievous squirrel. Pacha is forced to
rescue him, although the rescue doesnÕt go as planned: they wind up tied to a
log and going over a waterfall, after which Pacha is forced to give Kuzco
mouth-to-mouth (comedy!). After spending a night together in the jungle, Kuzco
begrudgingly agrees to the deal Pacha offered – although he has no real
intention to honor it once heÕs back to normal – and they set out for the
palace.
Meanwhile, back at the palace, Yzma and Kronk
have moved in and have started running thingsÉwhen Kronk accidentally lets slip
that he didnÕt kill Kuzco. Granted, heÕs a llama and heÕs probably on some
unsuspecting llama ranch halfway across the Empire by now, but Yzma refuses to
take the chance that he might come back. She and Kronk set out for the jungle,
to find Kuzco and take care of him permanently.
The EmperorÕs New Groove is representative of a
trend that was happening at the time in Disney feature animation. ItÕs an
artistic and dramatic departure from the standard Disney movie formula, and it
introduces an element rarely seen in Disney animated film: zaniness. This is
what I meant when I said it feels like a Warner Brothers movie; The
EmperorÕs New Groove is surprisingly zany. Lots of physical comedy and many prime
examples of Òcartoon physicsÓ at work are to be found throughout. Kuzco and
PachaÕs journey through the jungle is subject to disasters of Rube Golbergian
proportions, as one misstep leads to another, then another, and another, and
they next thing we know Kuzco is dressed up in drag and pretending to be
PachaÕs wife like some second-tier Bugs Bunny. Wile E Coyote only WISHED he
could set off disasters like this.
Even our villains are played predominantly for
laughs. Despite being aged and terrifying – and somewhat reminiscent of
Cruella De Vil – Yzma is as subject to zany gags as anyone else. She
proves to be just as inept in the wild as Kuzco is, taking spills into mud and
dealing with bugs and squirrels. Her nefarious plot to take over the Empire
seems like it could have used a little more thought – which is, of
course, part of the joke. Her manservant Kronk is distinct among henchmen, in
that he is more than just a big dumb guy. Sure, heÕs big and dumb, but heÕs
also SENSITIVE. He cooks, he cleans, he tries to be YzmaÕs emotional support
(and is subject to YzmaÕs constant abuse as a consequence). The fact that heÕs
a lantern-jawed strapping young man just makes it all the more silly; like a
big overgrown puppy dog, poor Kronk just wants to help, wants to be useful to
this evil sorceress, and because of this heÕs often neglected and dumped on.
ItÕs a near-perfect piece of voice casting to have Patrick Warburton play
Kronk; a big quirky guy playing a big quirky guy? A no-brainer, really.
Unfortunately thatÕs also one of the problems
with the movie: perfect voice casting. You wouldnÕt think that would be a
problem at first – after all, if youÕve got the right tool, use it for
the right job – but often one gets the sense that youÕre just watching
actors be themselves. David Spade is basically playing David Spade here: Kuzco
is a sawed-off little snark dispenser with an overinflated ego. John Goodman
plays the simple hardworking family man, and Earth Kitt plays the fantabulous
older woman who just happens to be an evil mastermind. Granted, everyone does a
good job, but there are no surprises here. Every actor is doing exactly what
youÕd expect them to be doing, and no one is called upon to make any grand or
surprising performances.
If that were the only flaw, then The
EmperorÕs New Groove would still be a fine Disney film. Unfortunately there are
story problems as well. ThereÕs no real dramatic dimension to the movie;
thereÕs never a sense of urgency in KuzcoÕs quest to return to the throne.
ThereÕs not even a sense that it even matters, in the grand scheme of things.
Apart from a single throwaway line from Kronk late in the film, thereÕs never
any indication of how KuzcoÕs absence is affecting the Empire. ItÕs never
stated whether or not Yzma and Kuzco are doing a better or worse job at running
things than Kuzco did; it doesnÕt seem to matter in the least, and so thereÕs
no real reason that we should really care if Kuzco gets reinstated. The message
is not that the Empire needs its rightful ruler to return to set things
straight, because things donÕt seem to be going too badly without him. Nor is the message that Kuzco needs to
learn humility in order to be a better ruler, because thatÕs not really what
Kuzco learns. The only message to be found seems to be some variation on ÒDonÕt
be a jerk.Ó Because if Kuzco were a little nicer, Yzma probably wouldnÕt have
turned him into a llama and tried to have him killed. Not the deepest message
to be found. Even in a Disney movie.
This is probably the legacy of the filmÕs
troubled production. The EmperorÕs New Groove evolved out of a
musical adventure called Empire of the Sun, which apparently had
a deeper, ÒPrince and the PauperÓ type of storyline and a soundtrack by Sting
(gah!). Apparently the film tested poorly in focus groups, and Disney execs demanded
an overhaul. This led to the original director quitting the project and a mad
scramble by the rest of the team to salvage it. And the storyline of the
finished project does have that rushed, unfinished feel to it. Clearly, a lot
was jettisoned to make a ÒmarketableÓ movie and bring it in on time and under
budgetÉand it shows.
Nevertheless, the finished project is still
pretty entertaining. If for nothing else, The EmperorÕs New Groove is memorable for its
departures from the traditional Disney formula, and creating an animated movie
that was, if not more ÒmatureÓ in theme, at least with less of a ÒkiddieÓ feel.
That may be the key to its entertainment value; the fact that doesnÕt FEEL like
a traditional Disney feature. The EmperorÕs New Groove does things with
cartoon logic that Disney animators often deliberately avoided doing, and that
makes it more unique. It certainly not the greatest animated film Disney has
ever produced, but it is one of the better movies to come out of the studio
during a trouble time in its existence. And thatÕs got to count for something.
Things To Look For:
- ThereÕs something very
ÒVegasÓ about The EmperorÕs New Groove. I canÕt think of any
other adjective to describe it. The stylized animation, the outlandish
backgrounds, the frantic salsa- and swing-inspired musicÉit feels like a wild
trip through some unreal larger-than-life fantasy land. Of course itÕs not a
realistic depiction of pre-Colombian South America; itÕs not supposed to be.
The whole thing is about as genuine as CaesarÕs Palace. ItÕs like a big show,
and there are so many small touches that evoke this: KuzcoÕs Theme Song Guy is
an Elvis impersonator with the voice of Tom Jones. YzmaÕs outfits would
not look out of place on a showgirl (did the Incas even have sequins?). Kuzco
leads a completely random Riverdance-inspired floor show during the opening
credits montage. In any other movie, all of this would smack of desperation, of
a vain attempt by the filmmakers to be Òhip,Ó but somehow, here, it works.
- Knowledge can be a
cruel thing. I first saw The EmperorÕs New Groove a few years ago, and
thought it was cute and harmless. Watching it again after seeing Mike Rowe
wrestle llamas and alpacas on a few episodes of ÒDirty JobsÓ evokes different
feelings. Now knowing that llamas are NOT the cute and placid animals seen in
this movie. Now knowing that llamas are ill-tempered beasts with filthy
toenails and a nasty habit of projectile-vomiting at anyone they perceive as a
threat. Oh cruel knowledge, to ruin a cartoon for me! Not that I thought lions
or silverback gorillas were particularly cuddly either, but stillÉ
- I find myself puzzling
over why Eartha Kitt is in this movie. DonÕt get me wrong, sheÕs very good as
Yzma. But sheÕs first and foremost a singer, a jazz and Broadway legend. And
yet, she doesnÕt get a song. So why have her here? Was she a holdover from the
previous incarnation of Empire of the Sun, where she might have
had a number of her own? Is she just there to add to the Vegas vibe, as an
older singer with her own show on the strip? Or was she just there to make that
last sight gag work? Puzzling, quite puzzling.
- Part of me would
actually like to see Empire of the Sun, to see why the test
audiences hated it so. IÕm naturally skeptical of test audiences – my threshold
for boredom is slightly higher than the average moviegoer – and IÕm
genuinely curious of what it was like. What made the focus groups hate it so?
What elements of it survived to make it into The EmperorÕs New Groove? IÕd like to have some
answers. Then againÉa soundtrack written by STING? Clearly, meant to reproduce
the success of Sir Elton JohnÕs Lion King soundtrack, but then,
Sting is no Elton John. Sting is no Phil Collins, for that matter. Hell, Sting
is barely STING these days. The only thing that survives from his soundtrack is
a song that plays in the closing credits, and if itÕs representative of the
rest of the music he wrote, maybe itÕs better that Empire of the Sun never saw the light of
day.
Written words (c) 2008-2010 Tim o'Brien. Not to be used without
permission. Other content, including images, is intended as a Fair Use pursuant
to 17 U.S.C. sec. 107.
Date Posted: July 3rd, 2008
A part of
A Variation On A Theme
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