Horton Hears a Who! - Appreciating Great Trash


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	HORTON HEARS A WHO! Grade: B Moral: Busy-bodies suck. Thank Happy Feet for forging the path through which Horton Hears a Who! lumbers, its success (political and otherwise) the clear impetus for other animation houses both to take their CGI more seriously, and to provide an alternative point of sociopolitical discourse resistant to Disney’s neo-con encroachment. Still, HHW! is not quite as resounding a triumph: its enviro-politicking is even more belabored, it’s meta-references less assured (there it was a brilliant nod to 2001; here it’s a spurious, catch-all jab at anime), and, presumably from not being a product of madman auteur George Miller, it’s never as gloriously weird. It is, however, a well-plotted translation of Dr. Seuss to our own doomsday times, and when it’s funny, it’s pretty damn funny. Occasionally its skittish, Carrey-informed antics edge too close to inanity, and its pronounced stereotyping seems contrary to its progressivism (why does the idiot bad guy have a forced, Russian accent?), but it’s all rectified by the movie’s rocketing pace and pandemonic humor. That it’s colorful and pretty seems almost a redundant statement, given how expected that is of computer-rendered product, but nevertheless, there it is: it’s quite colorful and pretty, even though the story practically begs to be given a lower-key, hand-drawn treatment from Chuck Jones. Regardless, ‘Climate change is baaaaad!’ still feels like an easy moral upon which to rest an entire movie, especially since, by this point, it’s such an act of preaching to the impotent (it’s not like multinational corporations and the government of China go to watch this stuff), and Miyazaki always did it with more of an elegiac artistry, anyway. Instead, Horton Hears a Who!’s best move is to remain attendant to its good-naturedness, refusing even to outcast the hissable villainess, but instead returning her to the fold in a surprisingly positivistic climax. In these moments, when the movie rejects the kiddie-leveled poison of the Disney formula, its tempting to give an ovation.
© 2008 C. L. Coleman

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HORTON HEARS A WHO!

Grade: B

Moral: Busy-bodies suck.

Thank Happy Feet for forging the path through which Horton Hears a Who! lumbers, its success (political and otherwise) the clear impetus for other animation houses both to take their CGI more seriously, and to provide an alternative point of sociopolitical discourse resistant to Disney’s neo-con encroachment. Still, HHW! is not quite as resounding a triumph: its enviro-politicking is even more belabored, it’s meta-references less assured (there it was a brilliant nod to 2001; here it’s a spurious, catch-all jab at anime), and, presumably from not being a product of madman auteur George Miller, it’s never as gloriously weird.

It is, however, a well-plotted translation of Dr. Seuss to our own doomsday times, and when it’s funny, it’s pretty damn funny. Occasionally its skittish, Carrey-informed antics edge too close to inanity, and its pronounced stereotyping seems contrary to its progressivism (why does the idiot bad guy have a forced, Russian accent?), but it’s all rectified by the movie’s rocketing pace and pandemonic humor. That it’s colorful and pretty seems almost a redundant statement, given how expected that is of computer-rendered product, but nevertheless, there it is: it’s quite colorful and pretty, even though the story practically begs to be given a lower-key, hand-drawn treatment from Chuck Jones.

Regardless, ‘Climate change is baaaaad!’ still feels like an easy moral upon which to rest an entire movie, especially since, by this point, it’s such an act of preaching to the impotent (it’s not like multinational corporations and the government of China go to watch this stuff), and Miyazaki always did it with more of an elegiac artistry, anyway. Instead, Horton Hears a Who!’s best move is to remain attendant to its good-naturedness, refusing even to outcast the hissable villainess, but instead returning her to the fold in a surprisingly positivistic climax. In these moments, when the movie rejects the kiddie-leveled poison of the Disney formula, its tempting to give an ovation.