The film’s format in which the child-loving character becomes a CGI creature, which is then plugged into a live-action universe, is one of the most technically surprising — and oftentimes, one of the most stunted types of popcorn. . It almost doesn’t matter whether the protagonist is Garfield, Stuart Little, Alvin and the Chipmunks, or Sonic the Hedgehog: the way that kind of sassy spunk descends from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit,” the actors tend to be reduced to one — note the funnymen who comment In many of the green-screen reaction shots, while the creature in the center – the moving star – is, almost inevitably, a gorgeous chatterbox greeted by throwing live action players and the audience, with way too many nasty punchlines.
But “Lyle, Lyle, crocodile” is an exception. The title of the monster at the heart of this musical fairy tale is a life-size scaly anthropomorphic saltwater crocodile that occupies a brownstone attic on the Upper West Side and doesn’t talk…at all. He gets no bad jokes and no conversation; He is calm and a bit shy. Except, when he opens his mouth and sings, in the wonderfully gentle baritone of Shawn Mendes, who delivers half a dozen new songs by Bing Pasek and Justin Paul (plus several of his own), authors and lyricists for “The Greatest Showman” and “Dear Evan Hansen” , whose romantic, thrust-filled melodies tend to descend like butter. (The songs here are almost as memorable as the “Greatest Showman” songs, but they will.)
“Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile” was inspired by the popular children’s book series, by Bernard Weber, which began in 1962 with the release of “The House on East 88th Street” (the sequel, “Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile,” was published in 1965, and there was Seven more volumes of “Lyle”). These books never went away, and over the decades have amassed multiple generations of loyal followers, ensuring that the new film will be a family-friendly success. The movie works hard to be offbeat entertainment for kids, and it’s an antidote to the gimcrack sarcasm that has ruled so much of Hollywood’s cut-throat productions in the animation world.
However, for the purity of its lineage, and as agreeable and poignant as it is at times, I wish “Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile” didn’t sound, at its core, like a lovable movie out of a wizard. I kept thinking as I watched her: Why does she feel at once touching and scattered, innocent and calculated, a new kind of thing not as new as he would like?
Some of that, frankly, has to do with character design. In the books, Lyle is a hand-drawn wavy creature with an attractive smile and puts a gentle spell of everyday magic on the Pimms, the family who ends up sharing space with him. It is a lyrically simple fairy dream animal. (This is how it was introduced in the 1987 HBO musical.) But in the new movie, Lyle is recast as a scaly, photo-realistic monster who looks disturbingly like Geico Gecko all grown up. He fills his whereabouts well, especially when he’s singing an impassioned number like “Top of the World” (on the rooftop of the St. James Theater) or walking around town “disguised” in a blue Gators shirt. However, the public’s connection to Lyle is still a bit of a barebones. There is something annoying about his method right there When he sings, only to fall back into being a slightly unknown, hypothetical, and massively underdeveloped character.
The Primms are now an incisive movie family: Constance Wu as Katie, a neuro-health-conscious cookbook author, is married to Joseph (Scott McEnery), a humble math teacher, and stepmother to his son Josh (Winslow Fegley) who is trying to find his way into a new school. They have moved to this cozy brownstone in Manhattan because it is a feature of Joseph’s teaching mission.
Upstairs, Josh finds Lyle, who at first seemed as frightening to him as a monster outside of Jurassic Park. But Josh and the whole family get used to it pretty quickly — in Katie’s case, too quickly, as Lyle leads her in “Rip Up the Recipe,” a great number about having the guts to cook rather than by who completely recreates her soul in about three minutes, before she gets to know him. . (This creeper runs faster than Mary Poppins.) This is just one example of how the film’s co-directors, Will Speck and Josh Gordon, orchestrated everything for instant effect, but don’t quite know how to build the mood. They also failed to make Lyle’s litter-diving excursions appealing – I can see how an alligator would dig this, but the idea of human characters diving gourmet litter was never the case.
The other monster on hand is Beams’ downstairs neighbor, the fearsomely obnoxious Mr. Gramps, played by Brett Gilman in Stranger Things, in a very funny show, making it a satirical portrait of a certain type of indigestion. York Cremudgeon – Arrogant. Gilman has real strength as an actor. (Someone should throw it in Allen Ginsberg’s autobiography.) Grumps’ slick cat is a scene stealer, and Javier Bardem, as the roving showman who is the original owner of Lyle, does the cornball World Old rogue to a T. “Lyle” , Lyle, Crocodile” has enough showmanship, but the movie kept making me think of “Sing” with that it Strange creatures – and this movie was much better, with a more organic emotional payoff. The way Shawn Mendes’ vocals come flowing from Lyle, it defines the character, but almost a lot. It’s like watching the most amazing party trick in the world.
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