“My last chance to give you your first chance.” Cars 3

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Let’s be honest. The only reason Cars 3 exists (other than inspiring mountains of Mattel-manufactured die cast miniatures that will mint oodles of green) is to cleanse our collective palates of the tire fire that was Cars 2, a misguided attempt to reposition NASCAR-racing protagonist Lightning McQueen (voiced with languid charm by Owen Wilson) and grating sidekick Mater (voiced with overeager anti-charm by Larry the Cable Guy) as international men of mystery. In one fell swoop, Pixar not only managed to erase our fond memories of the genial, warm, albeit predictable first film but also created outright contempt for the franchise – or at minimum a ferocious desire to never see (or hear) Mater again. (Granted, that’s all in a day’s work for Larry the Cable Guy.)

Fortunately, Cars 3 is just the course correction Lightning McQueen and pals deserved, with a welcome pit stop for Mater’s character and more emphasis on the adorable Guido and Luigi as Lightning’s sidekicks-in-waiting. The film is a competent enterprise, never quite achieving the dizzying artistry of great Pixar flicks (Wall*E, Inside Out, Up), but pulling sweetly on that tried-and-true Pixar narrative thread of legacy, mortality, and the wistful ephemera of dreams deferred. We even gets some tear-jerking posthumous appearances by the late Paul Newman’s “Fabulous” Doc Hudson, a flinty/folksy voice from beyond reminding McQueen that winning isn’t everything but the family-we-make-in-life is.

Not unlike the pains of a certain obsolescence that haunt Woody, Buzz Lightyear, Jessie, and gang throughout the Toy Story series, McQueen also endures an existential crisis in Cars 3. Don’t worry, kids, this is not Ingmar Bergman territory, more Everybody Loves Raymond-lite manopause. Race after race, McQueen finds himself at the tailpipe end of a young upstart Jackson Storm (voiced with consummate smarm by Armie Hammer) and sees all of his longtime pals leave the circuit one by one. “How do you know when to retire? The kids will tell you,” Cal Weathers observes ruefully to McQueen.

After a nearly career-ending crash, McQueen goes into rebuilding mode, working with Sterling, a new sponsor played with oily glee by Nathan Fillion, and training with a too-too exuberant coach Cruz Ramirez (a sunny Christela Alonzo). It’s all pretty dear with one safe-silly training montage after another and maybe three too many jokes about McQueen being too ancient to understand new technology, lingo, fashion, etc.

But then Cars 3 does something interesting. Arguably even subversive. In a franchise that clearly gets its bread-and-butter by appealing to audiences for whom NASCAR races are high holy days and for whom Larry the Cable Guy may be the height of wit (yes, I know this sentence makes me sound like an elitist twerp … stick with me), the filmmakers treat us to a welcome dollop (or two) of “and she persisted” feminism.

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Ramirez and McQueen set off on a road trip to reclaim his racing mojo. Along the way, they encounter a force-of-nature school bus Ms. Fritter (voiced with fire and heart by queer feminist icon Lea DeLaria), who reigns supreme at a demolition derby.

It is here that McQueen experiences his first abject lesson that male pride ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.

At the derby, Cruz Ramirez drives off with a trophy McQueen believes he rightfully deserves, and the two go their separate ways when Ramirez argues she has never been offered a chance to show what she is worth.

Is it still “white male privilege” when it’s in the guise of an anthropomorphized red race car?

Eventually, the pair reconcile when McQueen gets “woke” (that’s where the voice of Paul Newman comes in), and McQueen realizes the best legacy he can leave is by getting the h*ll out of Ramirez’ way in this new world. “This is my last chance to give you your first chance,” McQueen tells her, taking on the coaching mantle Doc Hudson once proudly held for McQueen. As you might expect (spoiler alert), Ramirez runs the film’s climactic race and kicks Jackson Storm’s … er … bumper.

Yes, I still have a teensy issue with the female character only getting her big break when it is offered to her by a male colleague. However, if that’s the narrative price to pay to gain an essential message that gender is irrelevant to talent and that everyone deserves their day in the sun (in the midst of a silly kids’ movie that seems chiefly designed to sell toys and backpacks), I’ll take it.

P.S. By the way, there is a lovely short preceding Cars 3. It is called LOU, and, as surreal as it sounds, the piece details how a haunted “lost and found” box breaks an ugly cycle of bullying on an elementary school playground. A welcome message for today’s America as well. Happy Fourth, y’all!

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[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Reel Roy Reviews is now TWO books! You can purchase your copies by clicking here (print and digital).

In addition to online ordering at Amazon or from the publisher Open Books, the first book is currently is being carried by BookboundCommon Language Bookstore, and Crazy Wisdom Bookstore and Tea Room in Ann Arbor, Michigan and by Green Brain Comics in Dearborn, Michigan.

My mom Susie Duncan Sexton’s Secrets of an Old Typewriter series is also available on Amazon and at Bookbound and Common Language.

 

Nature is out of balance: Disney’s The Lone Ranger

Description: Film poster; Source: Wikipedia [linked]; Portion used: Film poster only; Low resolution? Sufficient resolution for illustration, but considerably lower resolution than original. Other information: Intellectual property by film studio. Non-free media use rationales: Non-free media use rationale - Article/review; Purpose of use: Used for purposes of critical commentary and illustration in an educational article about the film. The poster is used as the primary means of visual identification of this article topic. Replaceable? Protected by copyright, therefore a free use alternative won't exist.

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Perhaps I am just contrary. Often, when all of humanity looooooves a movie (see: Titanic, Dances with Wolves, The English Patient, Top Gun), I can’t stand it. And when a film is vilified to box office extinction (e.g. John Carter, Daredevil, Speed Racer, and The Golden Compass), I actually think it’s pretty good.

Maybe my expectations are just suitably lowered by the anti-hype. Maybe the public has an unfair axe to grind with these particular “flop” films. Maybe I always root for the over-marketed, over-budgeted underdog kicked around the Hollywood playground. Maybe all of the above.

(In defense of my admittedly dodgy tastes, I am united – in at least one instance – with all moviegoers, all film critics, and anyone with a pulse in loathing Ryan Reynolds’ godawful Green Lantern.)

This brings me to The Lone Ranger, akin to John Carter, Disney’s latest attempt to create a blockbuster tent pole franchise from a radio serial property. Hollywood execs, just an observation, but this particular strategy never works – and, while I adored The Shadow, The Phantom and the marginally financially successful Dick Tracy and Flash Gordon, the cash and Oscars weren’t exactly flying at those pictures either.

But let me say this: I liked The Lone Ranger. I mean, I liked The Lone Ranger A LOT! I thought the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, made by the same troika of Gore Verbinski/Jerry Bruckheimer/Johnny Depp, were over-baked, shrill, and much-too-self-indulgent (especially everything after the first entry). I did not have the same issues with The Lone Ranger.

Yes, they could have trimmed about 20 minutes (what summer movie couldn’t this year?), but I thought that pairing Armie Hammer (this poor guy, like his cinematic “older brother” Jon Hamm, can’t seem to catch any real starring success on the silver screen) and a beautifully understated yet madcap Johnny Depp, as the Lone Ranger and Tonto respectively, was perfection.

The film slyly turns the dutiful Native American sidekick trope on its square, fuddy-duddy head, positioning Depp’s Tonto (who has been working this deadpan schtick since the insipid Benny & Joon) as a wry, world-weary, rubber-jointed Buster Keaton/Charlie Chaplin anti-hero.

The animal-lover in me winced at a few odd choices, like cannibal rabbits that make a very brief appearance salivating at the campsite fire of Tonto and the Ranger. Or the requisite horses falling over and over. (I really hate that about Westerns.) However, I do know that these choices all were to support some theme that the filmmakers were exploring about nature being out of balance. (Nearly every character appears to give voice to some derivation of this idea at least once.)

In fact, the film sets as its backdrop the industrialization of America (as represented by the marvelously understated villainy of Tom Wilkinson and the not-so-understated but equally fun hijinks of William Fichtner and Barry Pepper), literally driving train tracks through the untouched beauty of Native America homelands in the West.

The twists and turns in the plot are as predictable as those in a Wile E. Coyote/Road Runner short, but the journey is a big, dumb summer delight. For once, in my view anyway, Depp’s zany-hat-wearing, fey eccentricities are actually in service to the narrative (unlike another hit film I hated, Disney’s Alice in Wonderland). Some critics have unfairly labeled his performance boring and dull; I would counter that, for the first time in a long time, he is stealthy and nuanced, deriving humor organically from situation (and only a pratfall or two).

I liked that the film layered in messages about respecting our history, our environment, our culture, and our world. In a movie called The Lone Ranger, released over a Fourth of July weekend with tie-in toys available at Subway, those themes ain’t gonna be too deeply explored … so just give these blockbuster kids a break, willya?