Failure to evolve
The Croods
(out of 4) Animated comedy featuring the voices of Nicolas Cage, Emma Stone, Catherine Keener and Ryan Reynolds. Directed by Kirk DeMicco and Chris Sanders. 98 minutes. Opens March 22 at major theatres. G Evolution never works out quite as you’d expect — and you need look no further than The Croods for evidence of this.
This prehistoric animated comedy, presented in redundant 21stcentury 3D, is a cross between a more retro Flintstones and a more frantic Ice Age, serving neither influence.
It’s been bubbling on the back burner for some eight years, the fire originally lit when DreamWorks ( Shrek) still had a deal with Ardman Animation ( Chicken Run). That partnership dissolved, as did early plans to have John Cleese co-write the script.
What remains, co-written and codirected by Kirk DeMicco ( Racing Stripes) and Chris Sanders ( Lilo & Stitch), is something that seems far removed from its original intent.
The premise of a family of Neanderthals learning to cope with a violent world has been dumbed down to the point of knuckle dragging, with even the scary monsters reduced to the equivalent of plush toys. The end result is something that’s neither as thrilling nor as funny as it ought to be.
The Croods starts off strong, with Emma Stone’s teenage Eep explaining via voiceover narration the dilemma of her title brood. Having survived animal attacks, rock slides and diseases that claimed their tribal neighbours, she and her family endure lives of perpetual terror. During daylight hours, Eep and her father, Grug (Nicolas Cage), mother Ugga (Catherine Keener), brother Thunk (Clark Duke), nonspeaking baby sister Sandy and grandmother Gran (Cloris Leachman), forage for food the best they can, constantly dodging danger. An early egg hunt provides the film’s best action sequence. “Never not be afraid!” shouts the ever-vigilant Grug. By night, they barricade themselves in a cave behind a giant boulder. Eep tires of routine and longs for longer stays in the sunshine. She escapes from the suffocation of “the family kill circle” and strikes out in the big, bad world, whereupon she meets Guy (Ryan Reynolds), a much more evolved specimen of early humanity. Guy, who may be Justin Bieber’s earliest ancestor, has learned how to create fire and also how to make designer blue jeans and footwear (apparently he invented Ugg boots). He’s also convinced that the world as he knows it is about to undergo a radical transformation — an Ice Age, maybe? — so he’s heading to the presumed safety of distant twin mountains. He tarries too long with the buxom Eep (there’s more than one flame sparking) and before Guy knows it, he’s got her entire family in tow for the trek to the misty mountains. Most of the family is up for the trip, but Grug is suspicious of Guy and his intentions. A cave collapse forces the issue but doesn’t smooth rocky relations. This should be more than enough material with which to craft a decent yarn, but The Croods doesn’t evolve much past its primitive design. The journey is colourful, with the landscape shifting from desert to tropics, but the family never seems to be at serious risk from wild animals that are more Seussian than scary.
The filmmakers may have misjudged their audience. They aim low enough so that tots won’t be terrified, but adults, teens and older children may well be bored by the blandness.
And speaking of bad judgment, why have a sharp guy like Nicolas Cage voice a Neanderthal, whose brain cells can’t process much more than fearful warnings and bad jokes about mothers-in-law?
You shouldn’t expect too much logic in a cartoon caveman story, but a few script inconsistencies rankle. Why have the Croods learned to talk and make clothing, but haven’t figured out how to make and use fire? And why are they so surprised when they discover a body of water? What have they been using for liquids?
On the plus side, The Croods avoids the crude humour that the title practically demands. And the film earns laughs from the antics of baby Sandy, who is like an attack version of Pebbles Flintstone, and from the clownish dramatics of Guy’s monkey sidekick, which is fond of shouting dah-dah- dah!
Just plain monkeying around beats knuckle dragging, any old time.