THE SORCERER’S APPRENTICE: Counter Programming My Brain Did Not Work

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2010) – Directed by Jon Turtletaub – Starring Nicholas Cage, Jay Baruchel, Alfred Molina, Teresa Palmer, Toby Kebbell, Alice Krige, and Monica Bellucci.

Straight up – this movie didn’t have much of a chance with me, so feel free to completely disregard anything that follows, if you’re so inclined. I think Nicholas Cage is an actor that’s almost completely jumped the tracks. I think Jay Baruchel is the most annoying young actor of his generation. Every trailer and ad that I saw for THE SORCERER’S APPRENTICE made me think it was a bland hodgepodge of tired summer cliches, some weird Frankenstein of Harry Potter and Spider-Man with the costumes left over from The Dresden Files.

So why would I bother watching it?

A few reasons. One is that this is the team that brought us the entertaining National Treasure films, so I thought if anyone could get the best out of Cage by reigning Cage in it would be Turtletaub. Two is that Netflix keeps putting this movie on the front of my “Watch Instantly” page and I’m tired of looking at it. But three, and what really got me to hit play on this movie tonight was that I was trying to counter program my own brain.

Last night I watched Black Swan and had high expectations that were not met, so I figured maybe the universe would spin in my favor tonight by watching a movie that I had low expectations about and have it turn out okay.

Nope.

SORCERER’S APPRENTICE is a really bland, paint-by-numbers collection of bits and pieces of other movies. It has scenes just because other movies have scenes. There’s nothing original here, except, I suppose, the silly “Merlinians” vs. “Morganians” nonsense.

The idea is that a long, long time ago Merlin had three apprentices: Nick Cage, Monica Bellucci, and Alfred Molina. (Trust me, names are not important. You’ll never see these actors as the roles they’re allegedly playing.) Then Alfred Molina went evil and … Alice Krige ended up having her soul eaten by Monica Bellucci and then Monica Bellucci got put in a doll forever and ever. Or at least until this movie came around.

Cage then spends all these years looking for something called the Prime Merlinian because maybe this will make people think of Transformers. The Prime Merlinian is the only person in the entire world who can kill Morgana. Which is important because she’s trapped in a doll she can’t ever get out of unless someone shoots energy at satellite dishes. No, wait, that’s what you need to do if you want to raise an army of the dead all over the world. To stop this “Rising,” you have to perform an incredible feat of magic.

You have to kick a satellite dish over.

No, no, not seventeen of them or eleven of them or two of them. Just one. Just. One. And all the rising dead go poof.

Anyway, this Prime Merlinian character is the Chosen One because … well, because Merlin said that the Prime Merlinian would be the one. How does he know this? DO NOT QUESTION MERLIN! That’s how he knows this.

So Cage goes all over the world looking for the Prime Merlinian, putting this dragon ring into the hands of kids and waiting for it to come to life. It never does. Until one day, random chance brings a kid into a magic store in New York City and ta-da! The dragon comes to life! Hooray! Time to start the movie!

Well, no. Because the kid accidentally opens the top layer of the nesting doll, releasing Alfred Molina, and then Cage and Molina end up trapped … in an urn that hold people for EXACTLY TEN YEARS. Why ten years? Why the f*ck not ten years?

So this likable kid grows up to be Jay Baruchel, who doesn’t want to be a wizard and doesn’t want to speak in a voice that won’t make your ears bleed. Nick Cage is like, “You’re the Chosen One,” and Jay Baruchel is like, “I don’t want to be the Chosen One,” and Nick Cage is like, “Just help me this one time and you won’t have to be the Chosen One,” so Baruchel helps him and then decides, “I want to be the Chosen One,” but then Cage makes him practice and Baruchel decides, “I don’t want to be the Chosen One,” and then he does and then he doesn’t and then …

Damn, this is stupid.

I hate movies about people who don’t want to be something cool. It just doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s the only thing in movies more annoying that Jay Baruchel’s voice. Well, okay, there’s maybe ten things in movies more annoying than Jay Baruchel’s voice.

There are two things about SORCERER’S APPRENTICE that work and might, if I were a kid, keep me entertained for two hours. The first is the special effects, which aren’t so much awesome in their CGI-ness, but awesome in the variety. We’ve got people emerging out of bugs and dust, we’ve got big metal bulls coming to life, a dragon coming to life, fire blazing out across the city sky … APPRENTICE is constantly tossing up one different effect after another.

The second aspect of APPRENTICE that works is Alfred Molina. He’s far too good for this movie because not only does he play his evil wizard perfectly, he elevates both Cage and Baruchel’s performance when he’s on the screen with them.

On the whole, though, there’s just not enough here to make this movie work. It has the stench of “written by committee of marketers” feel to it. That’s the thing that confuses me, too. Who the heck was this movie made for? If it was a kid’s movie, why not have a kid at the center? Are they actually going for the National Treasure/Pirates of the Caribbean audience? Did they just think they could suck off some people desperate for the next Harry Potter film?

Any of those questions are far more interesting than the film itself.

FANTASIA 2000: Of Flying Whales, Angered Firebirds, and a Duck Named Donald

Fantasia 2000 (1999) – The 38th Walt Disney Animation Feature – Directed by Pixote Hunt, Hendel Butoy, Eric Goldberg, James Algar, Francis Glebas, Paul & Gaetan Brizzi, and Don Hahn – Starring James Levine, Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Daisy Duck, Deems Taylor, Steve Martin, Itzhak Perlman, Quincy Jones, Bette Midler, James Earl Jones, Penn & Teller, and Angela Lansbury.

Sixty years may be a long time to wait for a sequel, but FANTASIA 2000 has taken full advantage of the interim to deliver a film that is every bit as beautiful relative to its time and far more enjoyable. FANTASIA 2000 is tighter, more focused, more reliant on narrative, and far more playful. While F2000 retains the live-action orchestra for the interstitial segments between the animated sequences, inviting us to still think of F2000 as a night out at the theater, there’s a looser, more upbeat tone to this film. The vibe is reminiscent of July 4th celebrations, where you still have an orchestra playing classical pieces, but there’s greater emphasis on having a good time.

F2000 still has some serious pieces, including the final sequence, “Firebird Suite,” which is as beautiful a piece of filmmaking as you’ll find anywhere, but it’s telling that the one sequence from Fantasia that’s inserted in F2000 is “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” Sure, “Apprentice” gets the spot because it’s a Mickey Mouse vehicle, but it’s also closer in tone and style to what F2000 does than any other piece in Fantasia.

There are other connections, of course. “Firebird Suite” is reminiscent of both “Rite of Spring” and “Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria,” taking “Rite’s” evolving wilderness and matching it with “Bald Mountain’s” supernaturalism and demonic villainy, and “Maria’s” victory over the forces of darkness.

As with Fantasia, I’ll take these one at a time.

1. Beethoven’s Symphony Number 5

The most forgettable piece of the film, “Number 5″ does the whole abstract pattern thing. It’s not boring, and its willingness to switch up styles and colors keeps it continually fresh, but if there were one piece I could do without, this would be it.

2. Pines of Rome

“Pines” is one of the sequences that will make you wish you had a bigger television. Stunningly gorgeous, “Pines” features humpback whales emerging from the ocean to swim through the air thanks to a cosmic burst. Like Fantasia’s “Rite of Spring” (the one with dinosaurs), “Pines” offers a largely realistic animal, but unlike “Rite,” “Pines” takes that realistic whale and inserts it into a romantic story.

“Pines” not only offers the grandeur of magnificent animals moving across a gorgeous nighttime backdrop, but infuses the sequence with plenty of fun through a baby humpback, who revels in his newfound powers of flight and then has a stand-alone sequence swimming beneath an iceberg.

3. Rhapsody in Blue

Hey, look, people! Real, actual people! Focusing on a small cast of characters (a steelworker, an unemployed fat guy, a little girl misfit, and a wealthy fatcat), “Rhapsody” is drawn in the style of cartoonist Al Hirshfeld and soaked in shades of blue. They have various issues to resolve – the steelworker wants to play music instead of working, the fat guy just wants a job, the girl is looking for a place to fit in (or rather, her mother is looking for a place where she’ll fit in), and the fatcat has a wife with expensive tastes. The stories interconnect as the sequence progresses and it’s a successful offering if not a showstopper.

4. The Steadfast Tin Soldier

A total narrative piece featuring toys that come to life at night. There’s a one-legged toy soldier who falls in love with a ballerina which draws the consternation of an evil Jack in the Box. “Tin Soldier” feels very much like a Pixar piece – the set-up is Toy Story and there’s a Finding Nemo-esque detour into the ocean, and everything is set in motion through emotional want and rejection.

It really is a great sequence, but it’s probably only the fourth best sequence in the film (and I’m not even counting “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” in that ranking) which might very well make it play even better with subsequent viewings.

5. The Carnival of Animals

The shortest of all Fantasia sequences at around two minutes in length, we get a fun, up-tempo story of an oddball flamingo with a yo-yo and a disapproving flock.

6. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice

It’s a fantastic sequence but I don’t know if I’d have included it. F2000 is roughly half the size of the original and I would have preferred a newer sequence than a repeat. The only really great thing about it’s inclusion is that you’ll get to automatically re-watch it when you re-watch F2000. Which you will, because unlike Fantasia, the sequel is well worth popping into the DVD player to watch from start to finish. Where Fantasia is worth appreciating, F2000 is better engaging.

7. Pomp and Circumstance

That a sequence depicting Donald Duck as first mate on Noah’s Ark has plenty of comedy isn’t surprising, but it is a bit of a surprise at how well “Pomp” pulls on the ol’ heartstrings. Donald is put in charge of getting all the animals onto the Ark, but in the process he thinks Daisy fails to get on board. Daisy, in turn, thinks Donald is lost to the rising waters and they spend the journey narrowly missing each other. Their long, forlorn looks at the other animal lovers and eventual reunion are genuinely touching. A thoroughly satisfying, fantastic sequence.

8. Firebird Suite – 1919 Version

My favorite of all Fantasia sequences, “Firebird” is a masterpiece of animation. While the story is simple, the execution is breathtaking. An elk awakens a nature sprite after a winter’s slumber, and the sprite (rendered in beautiful greens set against the brown and grey of the lifeless forest and mountain) awakens the natural flora, bringing the greens of wilderness back to life. In the process, she accidentally awakens the Firebird at the top of the mountain and he destroys the forest and (seemingly) the sprite in a volcanic blast.

Awoken again by a breath of life from the elk, the depressed, sullen sprite is encouraged to try again, which she does with spiritual grace and joy. The sequence deftly uses movement to push and pull and slam on the brakes to punctuate the emotional haymakers. “Firebird” is reminiscent of the closing to Fantasia, but there is more joy and beauty here to balance out the darkness; where Fantasia ended with an elegiac tone, F2000 ends joyful and renewed.

FANTASIA 2000 is a superb, engaging, unique film. This was the first time I’d seen the movie, but it’s already earned among my all-time favorites.

FANTASIA: Of 8 Pieces from 8 Pies Cooked Together in 1 Plate

Fantasia (1940) – The 3rd Walt Disney Animation Feature – Directed by Samuel Armstrong, James Algar, Bill Roberts, Paul Satterfield, Ben Sharpsteen, David D. Hand, Hamilton Luske, Jim Handley, Ford Beebe, T. Hee, Norm Ferguson, and Wilfred Jackson – Starring Deems Taylor, Leopold Stokowski, and the Philadelphia Orchestra.

FANTASIA is a brilliant movie, but it’s best savored up close or far away, and not in that middle distance where you usually watch a movie – as a narrative arc that builds drama and resolves conflict. The movie, now shockingly 70 years old but still as gorgeous as any animated movie made today – whether that animation is rendered by hand or computer – offers 8 animated shorts, stitched together by connecting scenes of Leopold Stokowski and the Philly Orchestra playing and Deems Taylor serving as host, introducing the music the Orchestra will be performing.

FANTASIA is that rare movie that works best when you take its parts and view them separately. Designed originally as a roadshow event, it purposely invites you to think of this movie as a big night out at the theatre, from the live-action shots of the conductor (Stokowski) and orchestra warming up and playing, filmed largely from the angle of a person with really good seats in the audience.

As this kind of event, FANTASIA is brilliant filmmaking, with seven of the eight individual segments (generally running around 10-12 minutes) visually gorgeous and narratively compelling. This is not to suggest that each of the segments tells a story, but the sequences are short enough that those, like the Nutcracker Suite, that don’t attempt to offer a strong narrative still work. Where FANTASIA falls short is that sequences don’t comprehensively build on one another so it didn’t sustain my interest.

FANTASIA is like a collection of unrelated short stories – and does anyone sit down and read a collection of unrelated short stories from start to finish? When the short story is over, it’s so much easier to put the book down and think on something else. A collection of short stories doesn’t live with you the way a chapter break in a novel stays with you because each new story is just that – a new story, often with new characters and certainly in new scenarios.

When we reach the point in time where all our movies are kept on a drive instead of on a shelf, FANTASIA will be the perfect movie to call up when you’re dropping a quick lunch into your gullet and you don’t want to check in with your daily dose of propoganda disguised as news or the pretend arguments they’re having on ESPN about whether someone or something is the greatest or worst thing we’ve ever seen.

Let’s take the sequences in order:

1. Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, otherwise known as The One That Does Abstraction.

“Toccata and Fugue” is a less-than-stellar opening that starts with live-action and segues into abstract images. There’s no narrative here and the impression is of the music pushing the animation to move here and depict that. I get what they’re doing and attempting, but it works better conceptually than in practice. When I teach, I will tell my students that a text will tell you how to read it; that is, if you pay attention to what a book or movie or comic is doing and how it is doing it, it will help you critically assess it. This is what “Toccata” is attempting by showing off the interplay between sound and image, with its emphasis on color and motion. Its effective but not compelling, especially since the bulk of sequences to follow offer a narrative.

2. The Nutcracker Suite, otherwise known as The One With Dancing Mushrooms.

I would have started FANTASIA with “Nutcracker” instead of “Toccata,” as the visual imagery is much stronger and the lack of a narrative is better balanced with six short segments featuring various Dances performed by mythical creatures and slightly tricked up flora and fauna to resemble the particulars of each Dance subject. There’s mushrooms fashioned to reflect Asian garb in the “Chinese Dance” and plants given a Russian spin in the “Russian Dance.” The imagery doesn’t descend into condescending stereotype, but instead stays focused on an amalgamation of plant life and wardrobe. It’s a very successful and enjoyable sequence but the directors seem to realize that the lack of a narrative runs the risk of losing the audience, so it keeps its sequences short, colorfully diverse, and packed with action (as one would expect from a sequence of dances). “Nutcracker” works, too, because even though there isn’t a forceful narrative, the sequences relate to one another through their shared focus on the Dance as they don’t between the imagery here and in “Toccata.”

One of the really interesting bits, too, is the introduction by Taylor is his info-drop that Tchaikovsky’s Nutcraker “isn’t performed anymore.” According to the Never Wrong, there wasn’t a full staging of the ballet until 1944 when the San Francisco Ballet did it up for Christmas audiences. So thanks, San Francisco Ballet. Deems Taylor will hate you forever for making people wonder what the hell he’s talking about.

3. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, otherwise known as The One With Mickey Mouse, or alternatively, The One You Know.

If there is one aspect of FANTASIA that continually amazes me is that it’s not filled with Disney stars. Now, granted, this is the third animated feature, so there’s no Ariel or Simba or Rescuers to populate the film, but there’s also very little attempt at creating new characters, either. That lack of tie-in might with FANTASIA a few points with the art crowd, but as a business decision, it’s weak. “Apprentice” is a fantastic short that sees Mickey as the titular protagonist who uses magic to animate brooms into doing his chore for him. It starts out fine and then turns into a disaster as he can’t get the broom to stop filling the basin with water from the outer well. His attempts to break the broom wind up creating multiple brooms that bring in multiple buckets of water and flooding the place. Eventually, the actual sorcerer comes in and puts a stop to it and sends the ashamed Mickey on his way.

Mickey’s appearance in the third sequence does give the film a sense of momentum as each sequence, to this point, has offered something more than the previous sequence, but after blowing the guest star in sequence three, there’s still a whole lot of film to sit through.

4. The Rite of Spring, otherwise known as The One With Dinosaurs.

While not offering a simple narrative like the “Apprentice,” “Rite of Spring” gives us a compacted history of life on the planet Earth, from formation through the fall of the dinosaurs. The dinosaurs are faithfully rendered as they were understood at the time – which means we still get the idea of the T Rex being the biggest bad ass monster in the dinosaur kingdom instead of being the world’s largest vulture. There’s a solid, gruesome fight between a T Rex and a Stegosaurus, and while I like the sequence, I like it better as a stand alone short instead of a follow-up to “Apprentice,” which was shorter, tighter, more whimsical, and more vibrant. “Rite,” though, is so blessedly not what Disney animation became, however, that it gets a few bonus points for its realistic approach to characters.

5. Intermission, otherwise known as The Intermission.

After “Rite” comes the intermission break and we see the orchestra getting up to leave and then coming back, spontaneously breaking into a jazz-flavored jam session. Sitting in my living room and watching it, yeah, it’s pretty boring, but as an intermission piece, the jam session works as a solid holdover while we’re all waiting for the audience to come back to their seats.

6. The Pastoral Symphony, otherwise known as The One With Nudity.

Who can’t get behind naked female centuars, eh? Um, yeah, nevermind.

“Pastoral” is the true centerpiece of FANTASIA, offering a throughly enjoyable sequence of centaurs, pegasi, cupids, and Greek gods. It is a fantastic sequence that gives you a wonderful “slice of life” representation of what these mythical beings do on a daily basis living in the shadow of Mount Olympus. Which means lots of dancing and frollicking and courting and not a lot of responsibility.

There’s some potential racialist arguments you could make about how the film continually pairs up the green-skinned males with the green-skinned females, but these are decisions that reinforces the color pallet and not a coded message to date within “your own kind.” (And there are some different-colored centaurs that flirt and dance.) There was one completely offensive racial aspect to the sequence, a female black centaur named Sunflower that served a white centaur, but she’s wisely been edited out of the film.

Like Song of the South, you can dog the Disney Corporation for ever creating the image, but also give them credit for taking the imagery out of circulation. As an academic I want access to these scenes but releasing them to the public does infinitely more harm than good.

7. Dance of the Hours, otherwise known as The One With Dancing Hippos.

“Hours” is the sequence that suffers most from its placement in FANTASIA, as it is a perfectly enjoyable but not overly memorable sequence. Starting with ostriches performing ballet, and then moving into sequences starring hippos, elephants, and alligators, “Hours” is sort of narrative-less at the start and then narrative driven when the gators show up for a snack.

While fine on its own, it doesn’t compare to either the sequence that comes before or after it, and as a dancing piece, it’s not as visually pleasing as “The Nutcracker Suite” sequence.

8. Night On Bald Mountain /Ave Maria, otherwise known as The One With the Devil.

The final sequence is also the darkest piece in the film, and I have to wonder why it was placed here. Don’t you want people leaving happy? “Bald” is another great sequence, with the big black demon that lives on a creepy mountain overlooking a small village a dramatic and powerful villain. In so many ways, Chernabog is the villain other Disney villains cannot be because he is so decidedly morbid and evil. This dude raises spirits from the grave without any sense of humor or cartoonish panache.

The demon’s night of terror ends with the ringing of church bells and the switch in music to Ave Maria. It’s a bit clumsy – I don’t think the transition really works all that well, but there’s two powerful (if dark and then dour) sequences on either side of the awkward musical transition.

If there’s one theme that ties FANTASIA together it’s the animators frequent use of the weather. Whether its fairies coating plants with dew or the raging storm whipped up by a demon, weather is employed frequently as the visual showcase.

A legendary film that still looks beautiful and fresh and decidedly non-commercial, FANTASIA sees Disney’s animators at their creative best, and not shoehorned into either a house style or formulaic story.