95 Minutes, Color Computer Animation, USA, 2007

Written By: Michelle Spitz, Stephen J Anderson, John Bernstein, Nathan Greno, Don Hall & Joe Mateo (based on the book “A Day With Wilbur Robinson” by William Joyce)

Directed By: Stephen J Anderson

Dramatis Personae:

Jordan Fry is Lewis, orphaned boy genius with confidence issues.

Wesley Singerman is Wilbur Robinson, boy from the future, come to help fix the space-time continuum, which he’s responsible for breaking.

Stephen J Anderson is The Bowler-Hat Guy, creepy and oddly pathetic villain obsessed with ruining Lewis’s life.

Angela Bassett is Mildred, kindly director of the 6^th Street Orphanage, which Lewis calls home.

Matthew Josten is Michael “Goob” Yagoobian, Lewis’s sleep-deprived, little league-playing roommate.

Harland Williams is Carl, Wilbur’s robotic manservant; a hyper, even gayer C3PO.

Laurie Metcalf is Doctor Lucille Krunklehorn, eccentric director of InventCo Labs.

Nicole Sullivan is Franny Robinson, Wilbur’s frog-obsessed mom.

Ethan Sandler voices multiple characters, notable among them DOR-15 (aka “Doris”), Bowler-Hat Guy’s robotic partner in his nefarious schemes.

Commentary:

As I mentioned elsewhere, Disney feature animation faced a rough ride in the late 1990s and early 2000s. After a series of mediocre animated films, the decision was ultimately made in 2003 by Disney execs to completely scrap traditional cell animation. The belief among company higher-ups at the time was that their lackluster box-office performance was because traditional animation wasn’t “cool” anymore. That, coupled with the running feud between Michael Eisner and Roy Disney, led to Disney switching over entirely to computer-generated film.

Of course, there was one small problem with this decision: Disney already had a close professional relationship with Pixar Studios – and as any animation fan will you tell you, Pixar is the platinum, diamond-encrusted, holy-grail standard by which computer animated films are judged. In Pixar, Disney basically already had a computer animation studio…and now they were opening another. Therein lies the dilemma: how to create quality CG animation that was stylistically distinct from Pixar, without being in direct competition WITH Pixar? Well, the simple answer is: you don’t. There is no competing with Pixar – neither in animation quality nor story quality – especially if Disney’s first two CG efforts are any indication. No one is going to call Chicken Little a modern classic. But Meet the Robinsons on the other hand…it’s a deeply flawed film, but it’s definitely a strong step forward, not only technically, but artistically; it doesn’t have its head together at all, but its heart is in the right place.

As if in contrast to the frenetic pace that will dominate much of the film, Meet the Robinsons opens with a quiet, understated image. On a dark and stormy night, a woman leaves a bundle outside the front door of the 6^th Street Orphanage. Mildred the caretaker, answering an urgent knock on the door, finds the bundle, and sees that it contains a baby boy. Twelve years later, that baby is now named Lewis, and he is a boy genius of a species not seen since about 1964: he builds elaborate, somewhat impractical machines from ordinary household objects. Machines which often end up blowing up in his face, but hey, that’s an occupational hazard for a boy genius. His roommate is Goob, a tired little boy (Lewis apparently keeps him up all night with his inventing) who plays right field on his little league team. His latest invention is a PB&J gun, which will solve what he believes to be the main problem in making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by hand: portion control. Unfortunately he hasn’t worked all the kinks out of the system yet: when he shows off his new invention to the Harringtons, prospective new parents, he ends up spraying them both with peanut butter and jelly. This ordinarily wouldn’t be a total disaster if Mr. Harrington weren’t mortally allergic to peanuts. Mrs. Harrington ferries her husband off to the hospital, and Lewis crosses another prospective family off his list.

And Lewis’s list is apparently quite long: when he goes up to the roof of the Orphanage to mope, he reveals to Mildred that he’s been keeping track, and that was just his 150^th interview. What’s worse, his 13^th birthday is coming up, and teenagers have a harder time getting adopted. Lewis is feeling depressed and unwanted, and Mildred tries to cheer him up. Unfortunately her attempts backfire, as they inspire him to seek out his birth mother. Being a boy genius, Lewis naturally comes up with a high-tech (and impractical) solution to the problem: he will invent a memory scanner, one capable of scanning the human brain for long-buried memories and displaying them on a viewscreen. This device, he believes, will help him remember that night his mother left him at the Orphanage, so he can see what his mother looked like. His work consumes him, and keeps Goob up at night. When the device is nearly finished, his science teacher encourages him to enter it in the science fair once it’s completed.

The day of the science fair rolls around, and Lewis’s invention is ready for its first test run. One of the judges of the fair is Lucille Krunklehorn, from the aptly-named InventCo Labs. Dr. Krunklehorn is a bit insane (one of her inventions is the “caffeine patch,” which enables her to function without sleep with only, ahem, mild side-effects), but she is sincere and eager to find a potential new prodigy among the science fair participants. While at the fair, Lewis is confronted by Wilbur Robinson, an odd, paranoid young man who claims to be from the future. He advises Lewis to beware of a tall man in a bowler hat, then goes off on a perimeter sweep…knocking over another kid’s project in the process, and creating some minor chaos.

Lewis just thinks Wilbur is crazy, and gets back to setting up his invention. But it turns out he’s not: there IS in fact a Bowler-Hat Guy lurking behind the curtains, and when no one is looking (largely thanks to the chaos Wilbur has inadvertently created), he sends his hat over to sabotage Lewis’s memory scanner. The Bowler Hat is actually a robot named “Doris,” and she manages to unbalance Lewis’s machine by removing a single screw. So when Lewis starts it up, the machine nearly shakes itself apart, and sets off a chain reaction in all the other science projects that almost burns down the gym. Despondent and angry, Lewis flees the science fair…and in the confusion, the Bowler-Hat Guy steals the memory scanner.

Lewis retreats to his rooftop, and angrily starts to rip up his notebook where he’s kept all his plans for inventions. Wilbur appears and stops him, telling him that he MUST return to the science fair and repair his memory scanner. Lewis refuses to believe Wilbur is from the future, so Wilbur is forced to prove it: he takes Lewis to the future in his super-cool time machine. Fascinated by the bright and shiny future that Wilbur comes from, and impressed by the time machine, Lewis has no choice but to believe. But he changes his mind about fixing his memory scanner: he’d created it in the hopes of seeing a memory of his mother, and with Wilbur’s time machine he can just go back in time and actually meet her. Wilbur objects, and they wind up fighting over control of the vehicle…and ultimately crashing. Wilbur has no choice but to drag the machine and Lewis back to the place he got it: his father’s garage.

Meanwhile, back in the present, the Bowler-Hat Guy heads to InventCo Labs with the memory scanner, intending to pass it off as his own. An exchange with Doris before the interview reveals three things: first, that Doris is actually the brains of the operation, despite being little more than a robotic hat; second, that the Bowler-Hat Guy’s primary motivation was simply ruining Lewis’s life, for reasons yet undisclosed; and third, that without Doris, the Bowler-Hat Guy is basically a gibbering idiot. Indeed, without Doris to assist him, the Bowler-Hat Guy completely blows the interview. He doesn’t even know how to turn the memory scanner ON, and his presentation ends with him causing the CEO of InventCo some minor injuries. Tossed out on his creepy bottom, the Bowler-Hat Guy regroups with Doris, and realize they must rethink their strategy. They must find Lewis, and get him to show them how it works.

In the future, Wilbur and Lewis have reached the Robinson residence. They meet Carl the robot, who freaks out at seeing Lewis, for some inexplicable reason. For a further inexplicable reason, Wilbur puts a silly hat on Lewis to conceal his trademark poofy blond hair. He then confides in Lewis that the time machine is one of two prototypes created by his father, the renowned inventor Cornelius Robinson. The second prototype was stolen by the Bowler-Hat Guy, which is how he got to the past in the first place. Knowing that Lewis is a smart kid, Wilbur offers him a deal: if he will work on the time machine and get it fixed, Wilbur will take him back to see his mother. Lewis agrees, and Wilbur leaves to get the blueprints. He also goes to calm down Carl, who is panicking over the temporal ramifications of bringing Lewis back from the past (why Lewis in particular? Well, you’ll have to wait and see).

While waiting for Wilbur to return, Lewis accidentally wanders into a transportation device, and finds himself in the front yard of the Robinson house. And from there, wackiness ensues. In rapid-fire succession, he is introduced to Wilbur’s eccentric family, including his grandfather Bud, who wears his clothes backwards; his intergalactic pizza delivery man uncle Art; and his mother Franny with her band of musical frogs. The huge crazy family immediately embraces Lewis, until Wilbur finally catches up with Lewis and takes him back to the garage to get back to work.

In the present, Doris and the Bowler-Hat Guy hit the 6^th Street Orphanage to find Lewis. He’s not in his room, but they run into Goob, nursing a black eye. His little league game ended in disaster: unable to stay awake during the game, Goob missed the winning catch and was promptly beaten up by his teammates. The Bowler-Hat Guy is oddly sympathetic to Goob, and offers him some rather creepy advice about allowing his anger to fester and motivate him toward revenge. Then they head to the roof, where Goob tells them Lewis likes to go and mope. Again, there is no sign of him, but they find evidence that Wilbur had been there, and took Lewis to the future with him. They waste no time: taking their stolen time machine, they head back to the future.

I wanted to like Meet the Robinsons. I really did, because there is much to like here. It’s fun, colorful, smart, and possessing of a tremendous amount of heart. There are so many great messages in the film: letting go of the past and looking to the future, learning from setbacks rather than dwelling on them, accepting the quirks and eccentricities of others without judgment. But it’s just so…FRANTIC. There’s a lot going on in the movie, and so much get lost in the shuffle. It feels very much like a movie with ADD, especially once the Robinson clan is introduced: one crazy individual after another is thrown at us, and we never get a chance to really get to know any of them. There are parts that work, but they go by so fast. EVERYTHING goes by so fast. Too fast for my tastes.

The parts that DO work, however, work very well. One of the parts that work is the vision of the future we see. Because this vision of the future is THE FUTURE! That shiny dieselpunk future that sci-fi writers in the 1950s were sure we were going to be living in by now. The buildings of the future city are silver and gold, composed of smooth rounded shapes right out of the Space Age version of Better Homes & Gardens. Wilbur’s time machine is a shiny little bubble-car with wings; it’s something you could easily see George Jetson riding. Uncle Art’s pizza delivery vehicle is an old-school flying saucer, with fantails and a rotating column door; I kept expecting Klaatu to climb out. The vision of the future presented in Meet the Robinsons fills me with such joy: THIS was the true destiny of Man, boys and girls. This bright and shiny future, built by men of science and intellect for the benefit of all, was where we were supposed to be. And oddly enough, it’s very in tune with the original vision of Walt Disney himself. Uncle Walt was something of a futurist, believing in scientific progress as fervently as he believed in quality family entertainment (and merging the two whenever he could). I think he would certainly have approved of the aesthetics to be seen in Meet the Robinsons; it’s no accident that it looks like Tomorrowland. And I mean that as a compliment, by the way.

Another part that works is the treatment of the film’s villains. The Bowler-Hat Guy is a surprisingly complex villain for a Disney animated movie: he is neither a wisecracking smart-aleck nor a genuinely-menacing monster. He retains all the trappings of a classic villainous character – tall thin physique, curling Snidely Whiplash mustachios, bowler hat – yet as a villain, he’s rather pathetic. He’s characterized by enthusiasm coupled with incompetence; he goes charging off to wreak his vengeance without really planning anything, and so ends up foiling himself more than our heroes. And when his origins are revealed in a later time-bending plot twist, he becomes achingly sympathetic. Ironically the true villain is Doris, the robotic bowler hat, and her motives remain distinctly murky until the last act of the film – mainly because she can only express herself in mechanical clicks and beeps (that somehow the Bowler-Hat Guy can understand). This mystery surrounding Doris, coupled with her quiet determination and her seemingly-infinite number of insect-like appendages, allows her to be somewhat vaguely creepy and menacing. But it’s not until the end of the film, where we are presented with a possible dark future where her evil plans come to fruition, that we see how scary a chapeau scorned can be.

Of course, the big question about Meet the Robinsons is, how’s the animation? Well...it’s easy to be spoiled for quality computer animation when you’ve got Pixar churning them out, so perhaps a comparison is not fair. The animation is generally good, and consistent, at least. Each character is caricatured and distinct…and everyone has a rather “plastic” look to them. I’m not sure how else to describe them: they look like action figures, glossy and vacuum-formed. A less charitable person might point out that this is often a sign of poor animation quality; it’s hard to make things look real in computer graphics, you know, and maybe Disney just didn’t want to exert the extra effort. A more cynical person might point out that maybe it was deliberate; it’s that much easier to sell merchandise when your characters look like toys to begin with. At any rate, this glossy stylized look may have been a conscious choice on the part of the animation studio: they had to come up with some kind of signature animation style to differentiate them from Pixar. It’s not necessarily a BAD choice, just a aesthetic one. It’s just a pity that the movie rushes by so fast that we never get a good look anything…unless THAT was part of the plan too…

With so many good intentions behind Meet the Robinsons, it’s sad that it didn’t turn out better. Once again it’s a case of a collection of great ideas that didn’t fit together quite right. There’s something almost poignant about it: it makes a grasp at invoking the famous Disney heart and soul, and falls short by THIS MUCH. It’s a disappointment, and a bittersweet one at that, because it COULD HAVE been great. Maybe with tighter direction, or some judicious editing, or just a little more time or attention spent on it. But if there’s one important lesson to take away from Meet the Robinsons, it’s the central message of film (and by no small coincidence, one of the central beliefs of Uncle Walt himself): Keep Moving Forward. Meet the Robinsons, an interesting failure, can lead to future success. And with Pixar Grand Poobah John Lasseter now installed as the Chief Creative Officer at Disney Animation, and with the news that Disney will announce a return to traditional cell animation with the upcoming Princess and the Frog, perhaps the lesson has been learned. And perhaps Disney will return to the path Uncle Walt carved out so many years ago, and will Keep Moving Forward.

It’s a dream that I have…

Things To Look For:

- One of the things that the creators of Meet the Robinsons did right was in the casting of the movie. Due to the frenetic nature of the film, they deliberately cast actors with experience in theatre and improvisational humor (this is the first time I’ve seen Nicole Sullivan play a genuinely nice person, and she does it quite well; proof of concept right there). People who can quickly and easily roll with the punches, make up material and change gears rapidly. That was a far better idea than just casting some A-list star for the name recognition factor. Again, a good idea that didn’t really work as well as we all could have hoped; just because you’ve got people who can keep up with the pace of your movie doesn’t mean it’s okay to go so fast.

- There’s something at work in the world of Meet the Robinsons you don’t often see in movies geared toward children: we see here the consequences of thoughtless action, and in fact have one such consequence drive the plot. Without giving away the climactic twist, it turns out that Lewis is actually, indirectly, responsible for the whole mess himself. This is perhaps the first instance of “temporal paradox angst” to be found in a Disney animated film, as we are invited to trace the chain of events that set the plot in motion back to its point of origin. Due to the nature of time travel, Lewis is given the opportunity to make amends and set everything right again, but the fact that we get to see how some seemingly-small misstep can cause a set of dominoes to fall into a world-shaking catastrophe is really deep, man…

- One of the strangest parts of this movie (and believe me, that’s saying a LOT) is Franny’s group of trained frogs. Franny has somehow managed to teach frogs music: not only can they play instruments and sing, but they can put on an entire 1930s big-band musical number. And they can wear fine Italian suits and gather around the lily-pond after the show like some surreal amphibian version of the Rat Pack (and they can re-enact a scene from Goodfellas when called upon to deal with one of Doris’s schemes). It’s one of those very strange details of a very strange movie you just have to acknowledge and then move on. Because thinking about it too hard will make your head explode. From one who knows.

- Normally I just put main characters in the Dramatis Personae section of the review, but I feel I need to make mention of one standout among the minor characters: Uncle Art, the space pizza guy, is played by none other than Adam West. Poor Adam West has tried to get out from under the shadow of Batman for the last half of his life, and he’s managed to eek out a living in self-parody. As Uncle Art, he once again dons the trappings of the superhero parody: Art is a muscular, lantern-jawed, serious-voiced spaceman, resplendent in his red and white uniform. He takes his job very seriously, and he would be the first to take issue with you if you made some disparaging remark about the fact he delivers pizzas for a living (pizzas are important, dammit!). Like the entire Robinson clan, Art is doing what he loves, and he’s very good at it. And for the time he’s on screen, Adam West’s performance is what sells him. So, credit where it is due.

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 10^th, 2008

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