Rango

For most film critics or film bloggers I reckon that their reviews fall roughly into two categories: good and bad. This review belongs to a third category: the boycott review, reviews of films its writer walked out on or altogether refuse to see. In these reviews, the writer must state his reasons for the boycott. The reader will decide, just like he would if he were reading a bad review, if the reasons presented are persuasive enough to keep him away from the film. Admittedly the reasons presented in a boycott review are conceptually less persuasive than reasons presented in a bad review since the writer of the latter has actually seen the subject in its entirety and is therefore a more competent judge of the material, but surely one could show that an apple is rotten without biting into it.

I watched the first fifteen minutes of Rango. The's film's central narrative is framed by a quartet of owls that sing to the audience. One of the owls tells us to sit back and enjoy the film with our popcorn and assorted candies. I had a bag of popcorn, but I didn't have any candy. I felt alienated. I guess I'm not the kind of consumer the film was intended for.

But a lot of people around me had both popcorn and candy. I realized that the owl was making a joke. The writers of Rango figure that most people who see computer-animated films also buy popcorn and candy. Before the film started, I was in line to redeem a ticket I had to get two drinks and a popcorn. In front of me were several different people, several different buyers. "What do you guys want?" a mother asks her daughter and her daughter's friends. Nearby a family of three holds six food items. I got the joke: Rango is a cash cow, promoting massive concession purchases. This joke is not funny. It left me cold. I felt like a consumer, not a film-goer. Sitting there with my popcorn and drink, I was justifiably patronized. A thoroughly depressing moment in film.

But I also wanted to give my girlfriend a chance to like it. And who knows, maybe the central narrative is actually good, in spite of its unfortunate owl-quartet frame.

A lizard talks to a dead insect and a Barbie doll's torso. He is enacting a dramatic rescue scene. He wants to be an actor, I suppose. It's a one-lizard show, and he has the voice of Johnny Depp. So it's a Johnny Depp show. Unfunny jokes are made.

The lizard's tank falls out of its owner's car and, after an oracular conversation with an armadillo, gets swept up by the wind of a truck, propelling him into the windshield of a convertible à la Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. I suspect that the writers wanted to reward "old-school" Johnny Depp fans with this quick reference to his previous work. But, like Family Guy a lot of the time, this reference is for reference's sake; aside from its visual and aural similarity, the reference offers no real reward to audiences familiar with the source material. It's about as satisfying as answering correctly the trivia questions that theatres project on slides before the lights go out. In effect it only affirms any suspicion that the film is essentially a Johnny Depp vehicle. So it's a self-aware Johnny Depp show.

A bird is established as a threat to the lizard. The lizard tries to camouflage himself. He fails. A chase ensues. Do I have to finish this?

A female character is introduced. Her agenda is unclear.

"Do you like this?" I asked my girlfriend.

"It's not that interesting."

One five-minute grace period later and we were off to Guest Services to get our money back. We got two complimentary passes to return at another time, but I'm not sure when that will be because when I got home I looked up Rango's critical reception and on Rotten Tomatoes it had the highest percentage of positive reviews of all films that came out in the last two months. Another depressing moment.