Les Misérables

Look out at the Toulon dock on the right day in 1815 and you shall see a magnificent sight: a monster sailing ship being dragged to dry land by ropes exhaustively heaved by a raggedy chain gang who are thrashed by waves as they sing a song of slavery. This is the big opening to Tom Hooper’s epic musical “Les Misérables,” and it’s as perfect an introduction as one could possibly concoct: staggering in its weight and colossal in scale, the vast war vessel is like the film itself, if a little less melodious, while the prisoners’ grumbled rendition of “Look Down” is, like most of the upcoming numbers, less merry than it is appropriately miserable.

And in a curiously rhythmic discussion between pitiless prison guard Javert (Russell Crowe, “The Man with the Iron Fists”) and prisoner 24601, aka Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman, “Real Steel”), we are given a succulent sampling of the uniquely authentic musical stylings that are in store: as Javert explains the terms of Valjean’s release after 19 years of hard labour (for the minor offense of stealing a loaf of bread to feed his starving niece) and Valjean pleads in vain to be treated like a fellow human being, the two sing their conversation, belting out each syllable with operatic, vein-popping force, a trait carried on for the entirety of this sprawling musical juggernaut.

Based on Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg’s enduring stage musical, which was itself taken from Victor Hugo’s classic 1862 novel, Hooper’s follow-up to his Best Picture-crowned drama “The King’s Speech,” while bigger and bolder than that 2010 Brit hit, is another unashamed crowd-pleaser, but for wholly different reasons. For while “The King’s Speech” charmed worldwide audiences with its real-life tale of triumph against the odds, “Les Misérables” wows with its grand assemblage of soul-baring solos and rip-roaring duets. Viewers will be hard-pressed to drive home from the theatre without a tune in their heart, or at the very least a verse or two stuck in their head.

The film tells a stirring story of love, hope, freedom and rebellion set against the turbulent backdrop of post-revolution France. Granted parole, Valjean is faced with prejudice as an ex-con in Digne, refused food and shelter by those he begs. Given a generous gift of silverware by a kindly bishop (which he initially steals in desperation), he breaks his parole and vows to reinvent himself as an honest man in the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer, where, under a new identity, he becomes the respected owner of a prosperous factory and is promptly elected mayor.

But when he catches the watchful gaze of a suspicious Javert, who can’t help but spot an uncanny resemblance between the mayor and prisoner 24601, Valjean finds himself on the verge of exposure and at risk of incarceration. Valjean goes on the run once again, setting in motion a nine-year pursuit and taking with him the young Cosette (Isabelle Allen), the newly orphaned, illegitimate daughter of an employee whom he did wrong and rescued before her untimely death. As they hide together in Paris, with Valjean raising Cosette as if she were his own, talk of an anti-monarchal uprising bubbles among the poor and the squalid in the back alleys of the French capital.

It was feared by many that Hooper, with just three relatively small-scale features under his belt, would be unable to marshal the epic scope and breathtaking grandeur required for such a large-scale production. And while his direction here is a little one-note, rarely diverging from shallow-focused close-ups and sweeping, digitally enhanced establishing shots, what he has presented us with is a production as magnificent as British cinema has ever seen: a £40 million spectacle of soaring Parisian cityscapes, waving French flags and chanting revolutionary crowds, “Les Misérables" is a marvellous sight to behold, with Hooper and cinematographer Danny Cohen keeping matters looking more cinematic than stage-bound.

Hooper and his cast must be commended for their bravery in having the vocals of each musical number (of which there are many) recorded live on-set. It’s the first film since the disastrous 1975 Burt Reynolds/Cybill Shepherd rom-com “At Long Last Love” to attempt such a feat, and it lends each number with a rawness and an intensity that’s missing in its more polished Hollywood counterparts (in which the vocals are mimed on-set and lip-synched afterwards in a sound booth). Certain lyrics are strained and some high notes are wobbly, the result much more natural and dramatic than what is expected from the industry standard; heck, don’t be too surprised if this becomes the new industry standard.

Jackman, known as a song and dance man, sturdily holds a tune as he performs down to his very bones as a brutalised ex-con on a quest for redemption. In his delivery of “Valjean’s Soliloquy,” he displays astonishing emotional complexity, transforming in mere minutes from a bitter, feral thief to a man of great trust and affection, granted a second chance and a newfound faith in God. His 17-year game of cat and mouse with Javert makes for compelling viewing, particularly because Crowe depicts the ruthless lawman as a human being: alongside his booming voice and Terminator-like determination is a conflict between an emerging conscience and a rigid code of ethics that, in the third act, begins to quake and crumble.

They are supported by a great ensemble. Playing Cosette as a child and a young woman, respectively, Isabelle Allen and Amanda Seyfried (“Red Riding Hood”) both appear to emit a heavenly glow. Eddie Redmayne (“My Week with Marilyn”) charms as the courageous revolutionary Marius, whose first glimpse of the teenage Cosette sparks first love, while Samantha Barks is heart-breaking as the tragic figure whose unrequited love for Marius proves her downfall. Helena Bonham Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen, so good in Tim Burton’s “Sweeney Todd,” provide side-splitting, panto-style comic relief as a grotesque innkeeper couple who pickpocket their guests and are essentially the Ugly Sisters of the show.

But the real stand-out here is the rightly celebrated Anne Hathaway (“The Dark Knight Rises") as Cosette’s birth mother, the frail Fantine, a worker in Valjean’s factory who, when thrown out into the street with not a single franc to her name, sells her beautiful brown locks, has her back teeth torn from their roots and turns to prostitution. Appearing on-screen for no more than 20 minutes, Hathaway steals the show and our hearts as she belts out the iconic “I Dreamed a Dream" in an unbroken, unflattering close-up, tears streaming down her cheeks, her voice breaking, her passion earth-shattering. There will surely be riots in Hollywood’s Dolby Theatre if she doesn’t win that trophy on Oscar night.

And there shouldn’t be a dry eye in the house during Hathaway’s big number, nor indeed for the remainder of “Les Misérables." During its exhausting 157-minute length, Hooper’s sprawling fourth feature will prove itself a draining venture for many, both emotionally and physically, as they are drowned in a towering tsunami of melodies and melodrama. The emotional wallop of this thing is catastrophic and the riveting numbers will echo through the hallways of your brain for weeks to come. Can you hear the people sing? I know I can.

9/10

Pitch Perfect

“Pitch Perfect” is set in one of those movie colleges where students don’t read, don’t study and don’t attend class: they’re far too engrossed in making friends, making out, hanging on the campus and, as in this movie, singing a cappella. Debut director Jason Moore’s bright and sparky, “Glee"-inspired musical comedy, which is a musical in the same way that “School of Rock” was, is set in the fictional Barden University. Here, the art of a cappella is treated with the same fist-pumping enthusiasm and cutthroat rivalry that, say, football is in most schools of higher education. As far as I could tell, the closest anyone gets to a classroom in this institution is when students chill in their dorm rooms. How they expect to get their degrees I do not know.

For the uninformed, a cappella is a musical medium in which music is created vocally rather than with instruments, although I could have sworn I heard some instrumental intrusions in the film’s big finale. Barden U. is part of a fiercely competitive a cappella contest held every year, the real-life NCCA. Commentating at each stage are John Michael Higgins (“Bad Teacher") and Elizabeth Banks (also an executive producer), whose insensitive wise-cracks and wildly inappropriate remarks will remind many of the great Fred Willard as the batty dog show commentator in Christopher Guest’s mockumentary “Best in Show.”

Our heroines are The Bellas, the all-singing, all-dancing, all-woman underdogs to crowned champions and “big-headed garbage dirtballs” the Treble Makers (in the activities fair, they taunt passers-by by spontaneously bursting into mockful singsong). The Bellas endured crushing public humiliation the previous year when control-freak group leader Aubrey (Anna Camp, “The Help”) projectile puked on-stage mid-performance (and impressively reached the third row). Looking to finally bag the top prize this year, Aubrey and bubbly co-chief Chloe (Brittany Snow, “John Tucker Must Die”) hold auditions for new members in the assembly room, where a gaggle of social misfits and all-round oddballs come a-singin’ and a-dancin’.

Chief among them is Beca (Anna Kendrick, “End of Watch”), a cynical “alt girl" newly enrolled in Barden. Beca’s forte is seamlessly mashing together individual songs on her laptop to create a whole new track (a talent that comes in handy when The Bellas require a little rejuvenation in their music selection). Her sole reason for auditioning is to get her father off her back: he promises to let her quit college and pursue a music-producing career in L.A. if she embraces an extra-curricular activity and it doesn’t work out. Of course, soon enough she’s fully committed to The Bellas and the contest, and becomes an integral cog in their success.

Her fellow Bella newbies are weird and wonderful, and multicultural. Rising Australian comedy starlet Rebel Wilson (Kristen Wiig’s intrusive roommate in “Bridesmaids”) is Fat Amy, so-called so that, in her words, “twig bitches like you won’t call me it behind my back.” Ester Dean (“Rio”) is Cynthia, who’s the subject of a running gag in which fellow Bellas believe her to be a lesbian. And then there’s Lilly (newcomer Hana Mae Lee), a softly spoken Asian girl whose voice is so low no-one can hear a word she says, let alone sings (how she passed her audition is anyone’s guess).

The film follows The Bellas as they work their way towards the final in New York’s Lincoln Centre, and as Beca falls for Treble Maker nice guy and “The Breakfast Club" fanatic Jesse (Skylar Astin, “Wreck-It Ralph”). Naturally, as the newly assembled Bellas progress, they improve in their harmonies and presentation, although an underground, improvised “riff-off” with the Treble Makers strains believability (think of it as an “8 Mile”-style rap battle but with bubblegum pop tunes).

Moore, nominated for a Tony in 2004 for directing Broadway production “Avenue Q,” adds sparkle and pizazz to the stage-set musical numbers, which flaunt the painstaking choreographic precision of a Michael Jackson video. Kendrick and co. perform with style and energy, each proving they have quite a set of lungs on them, bellowing out both oldies and modern hits, and (thanks to Beca’s music-mixing skills) sometimes both at the same time.

Screenwriter Kay Cannon, who also writes for “30 Rock” and “New Girl,” provides much smart-mouthed snark in the vein of the Tina Fey-scribed “Mean Girls” and presents characters who may be stereotypical but who shine in personality. Giggles are aplenty, but in one notably sickly scene Cannon and Moore overdo the gross-out factor: late in the film, Aubrey’s upset stomach returns with a vengeance, which one character rather unexpectedly uses as an opportunity to make snow angels (yeuch!).

Admittedly, “Pitch Perfect” is pure formula, and it does little to raise it above basic expectations: it slavishly adheres to every cliché in the dog-eared underdog book. What it has in its favour is a winning, unpatronising “girl power" message and a sprightly ensemble cast confidently led by the reliably radiant Miss Kendrick. Stealing the show is the sizzlingly sassy Miss Wilson, who appears to have been given much room to ad-lib (a mid-credits blooper confirms this). As for the a cappella routines, they’re irresistible, toe-tapping stuff: one could almost forgive The Bellas for ignoring their college education.

7/10

Rock of Ages

In his joyously vibrant comedy musical “Hairspray,” backing dancer-turned-Hollywood-movie-maker Adam Shankman transported us to 1962 Maryland, where racial segregation sadly ran rampant. In “Rock of Ages,” Shankman transports us to 1987 Los Angeles, where many things run rampant, not least of all the devil’s music - or rock and roll, to be less damning. Like his 2007 mega-hit, Shankman’s latest is a musical and sees its inspiration in the form of a critical darling of a broadway production. Unlike in “Hairspray,” the transition from stage to screen in “Rock of Ages" is not successful, or at least not nearly to the same extent that it was in “Hairspray,” in which the transition was almost seamless. Side note: “Hairspray” would be an appropriate title for “Rock of Ages,” in which the hairdo-sustaining liquid in a can is part of the air the characters breathe.

Slap-bang in the centre of the City of Angels stands a nightclub named “The Bourbon Room.” Frequented by long-haired headbangers and protested by outraged Christians, the Bourbon Room specialises in showcasing heavy metal and glam rock, and is owned by Dennis Dupree (Alec Baldwin, “30 Rock”), who shares a touching bromance with his right-hand man, the appropriately named manager Lonny Barnett (Russell Brand, “Arthur”). The club is about to host a hotly anticipated, revenue-boosting gig by a world-famous rock star, but we’ll get to him later.

Our heroine is Sherrie Christian (Julianne Hough, “Footloose"), a curly-haired blondie and small-town girl (livin’ in a looonely wooorld) from Oklahoma. We meet young Sherrie as she travels to L.A. on a bus, in which she spontaneously belts out the lyrics to Night Rider’s 'Sister Christian’ - her fellow passengers join in, as does the driver, which I’m sure violates one or two safety rules. Sherrie dreams of being a singer, but first she must start at the bottom: after being mugged on the street, aspiring rock star and lowly busboy Drew Boley (Diego Boneta, “90210”) helps her get a job as a waitress at the Bourbon Room. Romance blossoms between the pair.

Now, onto that world-famous rock star. Stacee Jaxx, the lead singer of fictional rock band Arsenal, is played by Tom Cruise; it’s the A-lister’s most gleefully outrageous performance since playing hairy-handed movie mogul Les Grossman in “Tropic Thunder.” Sporting a navy blue bandana that keeps his untamed mane at bay, Stacee is an unashamed rock god whose tattoo-splattered torso never goes unexposed and who is forever doped up on a substance we never see him consume. He wears a bejeweled codpiece, sleeps with his nose clenched between busty pairs of groupie boobies, owns a trouble-making pet monkey named Hey-man, and frequently spouts faux-philosophical nonsense: apparently, Stacee will set The Bourbon Room on fire, literally, to please the “fire phoenix.”

It turns out Cruise is a talented frontman too: he struts about the grubby main stage of The Bourbon Room with an irresistible no-nonsense, rock star gusto, flaunting the fashion sense of Iggy Pop (sweat-smothered chest and all) and belting out power ballads with the screech of Axl Rose. And “Rock of Ages” is at its entertaining best when its diverse and wonderful cast is rocking out to the spine-tingling guitar strums and ear-splintering drum-thumping of beloved rock anthems by Bon Jovi, Whitesnake and REO Speedwagon. A highlight (for both the right and wrong reasons) sees Catherine Zeta-Jones (playing the music-loathing wife of Bryan Cranston’s music-loathing L.A. mayor) thrashing about the aisle of a chapel to the tune of Pat Benatar’s ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot,’ intercut with a googly-eyed Cranston being spanked by his mistress over his office desk. This is quite the sight.

But alas, “Rock of Ages” suffers from the “Mamma Mia” effect, i.e. it far too often feels like we’re sitting in a smoky bar, watching a bunch of drunken mega-stars taking turns at helming the microphone during karaoke night, the theme being the super sounds of the ‘80s. This isn’t helped by the sheer relentlessness of the admittedly stirring soundtrack, with musical numbers coming thick and fast, and exasperatingly so: a Journey track is followed up by a Poison track, which is quickly followed by a Scorpions track, which is then immediately followed by a Starships track, with barely any room to breathe between the numbers. And it all culminates in an epic medley of Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believin’,’ which I don’t think many would hesitate in saying we’re all a little sick of by now - damn you, “Glee,” and all that slavishly followed you.

Worse still, the film’s central romance, shared between Sherrie and Drew, is lousy and unconvincing, even if they do scream the lyrics to ‘I’ve Been Waiting for a Girl Like You’ into each other’s faces behind the Hollywood sign. Their performers, up-and-comers Julianne Christian and Diego Boneta, do show a talent in both the singing and acting departments, but there’s a problem with their characters: together they lack a spark and individually they aren’t particularly interesting. So, when Sherrie is forced to work in a strip club (where men pinch her bum - the horror!) and Drew is forced to join a cheesy boyband (think the early - and modern - days of New Kids on the Block), the heart-wrenching drama intended by Shankman and his writers flops like a headbanger’s mullet.

The poster for “Rock of Ages” states that the film is “nothin’ but a good time.” I won’t object to this too much: “Rock of Ages” is never boring, and does serve as adequate, campy entertainment - watching Tom Cruise and Malin Akerman having sex atop a pool table while both sing ‘I Want to Know What Love Is’ could be nothing else. But rarely does it click like Baz Luhrmann’s “Moulin Rouge!” did so gloriously in 2001 and, clocking in at just over two hours, it goes on (and on, and on, and oonnn...) for far too long - methinks some of those relentless musical numbers could have hit the cutting room floor. Still, I’m sure the broadway production rocks.

5/10

Dr. Seuss' The Lorax

Big-screen adaptations of Dr. Seuss’ globally beloved body of work are an inconsistent breed indeed. The trend, if you can call it that, began in Christmastime 2000, during which tinseltown catapulted Seuss’ much-celebrated 1957 story “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” into theatres worldwide, featuring a scenery-chewing Jim Carrey smothered from head to toe in green-tinted makeup, prosthetics and assorted fur. The film divided critics, some finding it charming and others finding it obnoxious (I count myself in the former group), but was a commercial success nevertheless.

Next came 2003’s “The Cat in the Hat,” which starred a post-“Austin Powers” Mike Myers as the titular anthropomorphic feline. A critical disaster, the film was so abominably beastly it caused the Seuss estate to enforce a ban on live-action adaptations of the author’s work being produced by Hollywood. In response, Hollywood made “Horton Hears a Who,” a computer-animated family comedy featuring the voices of a returning Jim Carrey and Seuss newbie Steve Carell. Released in spring of 2008, the film was a box-office smash and a critical darling, and rightfully so: “Horton” was heaps of fun and got right what “The Grinch” and “The Cat in the Hat” generally got wrong.

And now we come to “The Lorax,” which defies not the Seuss estate’s ban on non-animated adaptations; much like “Horton,” “The Lorax” is presented by way of computer-animation, and gorgeously so. Helmed by directors Chris Renaud and Kyle Balda, and writers Ken Daurio and Cinco Paul (the gifted foursome who gave us pleasing supervillain animation “Despicable Me” in 2010), the film had the potential to prove that animation is the one and only medium in which a Seuss adaptation can be done - it does so, but also proves that the medium is not a one-way ticket to success.

“The Lorax” is based on the 1971 book of the same name and is actually its second screen adaptation; there was an animated TV special aired in 1972 akin to the classic 1966 animated TV special of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” Like the book, the 2012 version carries a message that is pro-environment and anti-establishment; trouble is, it rams this message right down the viewer’s throat and rams pretty damn hard - you’ll be lucky if you’re not gagging come the inevitable, schmaltzy conclusion.

The film begins in a walled-up city called Thneed-Ville, a utopia where everything, citizens aside, is artificial: there are no animals, no insects, no dirt and no plants. All objects in the city are made of either metal, plastic or synthetics; even the trees in homeowners’ gardens are robotic, and come with a disco setting. Living in Thneed-Ville is Ted Wiggins (Zac Efron, “The Lucky One”), a 12-year-old boy in love with his redheaded young neighbour, Audrey (singer-songwriter Taylor Swift). Ted discovers that Audrey has one desperate wish: to one day see with her very own eyes a real-life tree.

Realising that he can claim Audrey’s heart by presenting her with such a precious object, Ted, on the advice of his giddy grandmother (the legendary Betty White), sneaks outside of the city to meet the Once-ler (Ed Helms, “The Hangover Part II”), a reclusive stranger hiding inside a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere. As it turns out, the Once-ler knows a lot about trees and begins to recite to young Ted a wonderful story.

The story is as such. One day, many years ago, the Once-ler stumbled upon a luxurious land filled with towering trees and cute little forest critters. Needing a tree for his mysterious invention, he chopped one down, and from the stump sprung the Lorax (Danny De Vito, “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”), the mustachioed, orange-coloured, shin-high guardian of the forest and self-enforced speaker for the trees. Grumpy and stubborn but charming and endearing, the Lorax tenaciously protects his land, and was none too happy with the Once-ler’s forest-scarring actions. And thus begins a heartwarming fable about the importance of nature and the evils of corporate business.

Like the ‘72 television special, “The Lorax” is a musical, although not a fully committed one: the amount of musical numbers featured in the film (which range from the cloying to the rocky) is four, I believe. And of these four extended sequences of singing and dancing, you’d be hard-pressed to get me to repeat any of the lyrics or hum any of their melodies, and that’s not just because I’m no singer or hummer; I just can’t remember them.

Yes, as a musical, “The Lorax” is a bit of a dog’s dinner, and I can’t quite imagine the official soundtrack topping the charts, but it makes up for this with the appealing charm it has at its immediate disposal. This charm comes down to a small, but effective number of elements. For one, there’s Danny DeVito, whose strangely soothing voice brings the Lorax to life in tantalising fashion, done so without the need for irritating flamboyancy. Secondly, there’s the animation, which vividly creates a richly rendered, candy-coloured world filled with lovable characters designed to appeal; it’s a majestic and luxurious visual feast. Thirdly, the never-ending slapstick, which is inventive enough, playful enough and lively enough to just about justify its constant presence, successfully providing a few smiles, titters and giggles along the way.

And finally, we have the simple, undeniable fact that the film’s clearly stated intentions are good and noble, even though it sacrifices the endearing simplicity of its cherished source material and even when its moral message is on the verge of choking the audience. I think the film will work splendidly with younger viewers, while those teenaged and up will find it at least tolerable. Mostly decent and occasionally quite delightful, “The Lorax” is no “Horton Hears a Who,” but it’s certainly not “The Cat in the Hat” either; it’s just “The Lorax,” and I see nothing wrong with that.

6/10

The Muppets

“Life’s a happy song,” sing a bright-eyed Jason Segel and his Muppet brother Walter in the unashamedly joyous opening musical number of Disney’s “The Muppets.” And indeed, “The Muppets” is a happy film, perpetually happy in fact, and it doesn’t care who knows it. It’s bright, it’s colourful, it’s silly and it’s sweet, all in a way that calls to mind the ever-beloved “Muppets Show” that was transmitted onto TV screens all the way back in the mid-‘70s. Here is a film so exuberantly fun and endearingly cheerful that to nitpick away at its occasional faults seems a wholly pointless task.

Directed by “The Flight of the Conchords” co-creator James Bobin, “The Muppets” works essentially as a revamp of the Muppets brand, as well as a comeback for Kermit and pals. Created of course by the late great Jim Henson, the Muppets haven’t appeared on the big screen since 1999, the year that their sixth film, “Muppets from Space,” was released in theatres. Since then, they’ve done two television films – 2002’s “It’s a Very Merry Muppets Christmas Movie” and 2005’s “The Muppets’ Wizard of Oz” – and sadly not much else of note.

This is reflected in the film itself; at the film’s beginning, the Muppets are all washed-up and long-forgotten by the general public. They’ve drifted far away from the spotlight in which they once shone bright, and have also drifted apart as a group, all having gone their separate ways. In fact, there seem to be only two people in the whole wide world who still remember and still adore the Muppets: brothers Gary (Jason Segel, “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” in human form) and Walter (a Muppet voiced by Peter Linz) from Smalltown; question not how these two can be genetic brothers – it somehow makes perfect sense within the context of the film.

Along with Gary’s long-time girlfriend Mary (the delightful, though underused Amy Adams, “Enchanted”), the two Muppet-worshiping brothers go on a vacation to Los Angeles for two reasons: one, to celebrate Gary and Mary’s ten-year anniversary; and two, to take a tour round the grand old Muppet Theatre, which Walter in particular is over the moon about. However, once they get to the theatre, which is now all dusty and derelict, Walter discovers something horrible: Tex Richman (a tremendously hammy Chris Cooper, “The Company Men”), a mean and nasty corporate businessman, wishes to purchase the theatre, knock it down and drill for oil that lies underneath.

Mortified, Walter goes to see his hero, Kermit the Frog (voiced by Steve Whitmire), at his mansion and explains the situation to him: that if Kermit doesn’t somehow raise $10 million, Richman will have the theatre completely destroyed. Kermit, Walter, Gary and Mary then hatch a plan together to raise the money: getting the old Muppet team back together again and performing a show – but will they be able to find all of the ex-Muppets and convince them to do the show? Oh who am I kidding, of course they do.

Yes, all of your favourite Muppet characters are here to help you raise your hands in the air and surrender to sweet, beautiful nostalgia; I won’t list them all (there are far too many to mention), but the obvious highlights are the gloriously glamorous Miss Piggy (voiced by Eric Jacobson), dodgy stand-up comic Fozzie Bear (also Jacobson), psychopathic drummer Animal (Jacobson again), droopy-nosed goof Gonzo (voiced by Dave Goelz) and everyone’s favourite zinger-spouting critics, Statler (Whitmire) and Waldorf (Goelz).

They and their many Muppet co-stars are all wonderfully Muppeteered by the incredibly talented voice actors, who wring both comedy and sentimentality out of the widely adored characters. Writers Segel and Nicholas Stoller clearly understand what makes these characters tick and what it is that fans love about them, and at no point do they betray this for the sake of pointless modernisation; the Muppets have not been twisted and tarnished by modern-day Hollywood – they’re just as wild, crazy and boundlessly charming as they always have been, free of snarkiness and full of good old lovability.

This is old-fashioned, song and dance, variety show Muppets; indeed, there’s a fair share of toe-tapping, head-nodding, memory-imprinting musical numbers, as supervised by Bret McKenzie of “Flight of the Conchords” fame and performed by both the Muppets themselves and the human performers. We have the aforementioned opener, “Life’s a Happy Song,” the wryly funny and genuinely poignant (and now Oscar-nominated) power ballad “Man or Muppet,” and also a hilariously abrupt sing-along rap by Chris Cooper; that’d be fun to see being performed at the Oscar ceremony. We also have a whole boatload of cameos from a few familiar faces, the identities of which I would never dream of revealing; that of course would only spoil the pleasure of the many surprises held within.

“The Muppets” is a family film in the purest sense of the term; it is a film for youngsters, for teenagers, for parents and for grandparents. Regardless of your age, “The Muppets” will not fail to raise a smile, tickle a funny bone or warm the heart. It is gleefully anarchic, infinitely energetic, riotously nutty, enormously entertaining, magnificently self-referential and utterly riveting; it is a glorious comeback for a timeless creation that will delight loyal fans and enthral newcomers. Simply put, it’s phenomenal. Do doo be-do-do…

9/10

Tangled

"Tangled" marks the first ever big-screen outing for the poor, isolated Rapunzel. I find it odd that the classical princess, cast from the minds of the famous Brothers Grimm in 1812, has taken so long to finally reach cinema screens. The story is so well-known, one would think that a dozen filmic retellings would have permeated the cultural wave by now. The only notable adaptation was the direct-to-DVD "Barbie as Rapunzel" in 2002, for the love of Christ.

But now, in 2010, Disney has ultimately taken up the challenge of bringing the fabled fairy tale to the silver screen -- and who better to do it some well-deserved justice than the studio who brought us "Bambi" and "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs"? "Tangled" is entirely rendered in computer animation, it's being shown in 3D, and it's a musical -- it's also the first full-CG flick to be an all-out sing-a-thon.

Rapunzel (singer Mandy Moore, "Saved!") is a sheltered girl. She's been living in a tall tower with her pet chameleon ever since she was kidnapped from her royal parents as an infant by Mother Gothel (Donna Murphy, "The Nanny Diaries"). Unaware that the child-snatching witch is not her birth-parent, the 17-year-old is forced by her fake mommy to stay inside the tower so that Mother Gothel can use the youth-giving magical powers coating Rapunzel's long, flowing hair. Rapunzel has never left the secluded structure, but yearns to venture outside.

Flynn Rider (Zachary Levi, "Chuck") is a bandit who, along with two hulking twin thugs, manages to steal what should be Rapunzel's tiara from the royal castle. By pure coincidence, he just so happens to climb up Rapunzel's tower while hiding from chasing guards after deliberately losing his brutish companions.

Following being knocked unconscious with a frying pan, crammed into a closet and then tied up with Rapunzel's golden locks, he and The Lost Princess climb down the sky-high tower. Rapunzel wants to discover the reason why she sees floating lanterns burning amongst the stars on each of her birthdays -- her real father and mother send them into the night every year in the hope that their missing daughter follows them and returns home. In return for being Rapunzel's guide, Flynn will be given the stolen tiara, which Rapunzel has taken off him.

As they trek through the forest together, getting in all sorts of calamities, romance blossoms between the two mismatched misfits. Meanwhile, hundreds of guards are hunting Flynn, the two ditched sibling robbers are hunting Flynn, and Mother Gothel is hunting Rapunzel. I'm sure they'll be fine.

Disney's last feature was the brilliant New Orleans-set, 2D-animated "The Princess and the Frog" of 2009, and "Tangled" treads similar ground. Their latest is a traditional story of princesses, witches, dashing anti-heroes and enchanting incantations -- but with a more modern feel surrounding the proceedings.

"Tangled" is met with cartoonish comedy and whimsical music, both holding up well amongst the swashbuckling adventures of the two courageous leads. Directors Nathan Greno and Byron Howard share a sharp eye for slapstick shenanigans, the physical humour a joyous highlight in this hair-raising comedy. The initial interaction between Flynn and the trapped princess is especially hilarious, peaking when Rapunzel makes several attempts to stuff Flynn's unconscious body in her closet.

The music, composed by Oscar-winner Alan Menken ("Beauty and the Beast," "Aladdin"), is a cheerful listen, the lyrics giving a little more depth to the characters, as well as furthering the plot. While not particularly memorable, they're fun while they last -- "I've Got a Dream" is a delightfully silly entry in the original soundtrack, sung by supposed ruffians (one of whom is voiced by Brad Garrett of "Everybody Loves Raymond" fame) in a bar.

The voice-work is all top-notch, radiantly bringing the already-3D characters to wacky life and gloriously singing to their hearts' content. Moore's Rapunzel isn't the stereotypical damsel-in-distress, but an independent and strong young woman with a long-restrained sense of inquisitive adventure. She's a tad naive, but still a lovable, magical-haired lead who'll make a great role model for little girls sitting in the audience -- however, if you want your shins unharmed, I'd take the frying pans away from your daughter(s) after watching this.

Flynn is a grinning and clever-mouthed thief who thinks he can get himself out of any sticky situation by showing off his "smolder" to the ladies. Well practiced in narcissism, he's insulted when the land-scattered wanted posters picturing him get his nose wrong -- it's drawn as a bulbous bill. He's also shocked when Rapunzel doesn't fall for his charms, but the two share a conflicting chemistry on their risky exploits.

As the wicked queen to Rapunzel's Snow White, Mother Gothel is a right manipulative old bitch. Using the powers in Rapunzel's lengthy split-ends to sustain a youthful figure, she poses as the princess' over-protective mother, telling Rapunzel that she can't survive outside the tower, fearing that the curious blondie may escape her clutches. When Rapunzel finally spreads her wings and hops off with the handsome Flynn, Mother Gothel is both furious and desperate to get her once-willing captive back.

While it may not be hailed as a Disney classic anytime soon, "Tangled" is nonetheless an excellent addition to the studio's vast plethora of popular animations. It looks beautiful, the cast is magnificent, the musical numbers are kind to the ears, and the comedy works wonders. Both kids and adults will love it. I just wonder how Rapunzel manages to not trip over her hair all the time.

8/10