mainecoon50

I watched this movie last night on one of the pay-per-view channels, and while watching it I quickly wondered why I bothered. In all honesty I really did expect something more from this film. Maybe something along the lines of 'Conspiracy Theory'. Why? Maybe because of the casting. I mean, Nicolas Cage and Harvey Keitel, after all. Not to mention Jon Voight and Christopher Plummer. Now I'm wondering, why did they bother? But instead of an absorbing action cum mystery drama I was caught up in a pastiche of breakneck silliness a là 'The Goonies', which to my great surprise appears to have garnered some actual critical praise. Perhaps it's because 'The Goonies' was clearly targeted toward the pre-teen and teen audiences. Whereas 'National Treasure', judging from the previews, was seriously intended to appeal to an adult audience.

Suspension of disbelief is one thing. It's how one can enjoy sci-fi and horror. But I found myself actually resisting the heaping tablespoons of paranoid and conspiracy-laden tripe being shoved at the audience. Oh, the screenwriter threw around all the jargon intended to evoke a sense of serious engaged wonderment. "Wow! The Masons. The Knights Templars. You know, this could really be true!" I think the writer really lost me when Gates said the Founding Fathers hid the treasure to keep it out of the hands of the British! And just were did the Knights Templar come from? New Jersey? Oh, I forget. From France! Which goes a long way to explain how it ended up in Philadelphia during the Revolution. It was brought there by agents of Napoleon! Anyway, you see what I'm getting at. The premise of the movie is interesting. And I really do think it could have succeeded as a serious mystery drama. But it just comes off as another kid flick in grown-up clothing. In the end I think it asks the audience not simply to suspend belief but to render itself willfully ignorant to an insulting degree.

I've just finished watching several items by Werner Herzog and Istvan Szabo. It's a shock to switch from fine dining to Hollywood Big Mac and fries.

Okay, okay. If you pant over chases, explosions, and 'gee-whiz' gimmickry you'll enjoy 'National Treasure'. But it's the sort of movie, well, have you ever stood outside a cinema waiting to get in while the previous audience comes out? And all the young kids are talking excitedly among themselves and saying things like, "Wow! Did you see how that thing blew up? That was so cool!" 'National Treasure' is that kind of movie.

Yesterday evening a friend introduced me to this extraordinary piece of animation. After watching it I was left with the feeling that I'd just watched a film which communicated something to me, but I wasn't quite sure what that might be. For hours afterward I thought to myself, "Why did that film appeal to me so?" The story is simple and straightforward. The details are charming and nuanced. The rendering is a true tour-de-force. The one thing that caught my eye was the sheen of the water as Mme. Souza and Bruno are crossing the ocean in pursuit of her grandson. I can hardly believe that was animation. Then I noticed the play of the light on the water reflected against the hulls of the boats at dock in the harbor. My friend pointed out the skill of the graphic designers in maintaining the proper camera angles of the projected live film footage on the screen during the chase sequence.

The music is absolutely captivating. Everything from the opening dance-hall sequence to the extraordinary use of the Kyrie from Mozart's Mass in C Minor during the storm at sea and the entrance into the harbor of Belleville. Notice how the music builds in richness as the camera descends from the few spires at the beginning of the sequence to the dense mass at street level.

Remembering the details and how they relate to each other and the film as a whole keeps you thinking about the significance of the film's contents. For instance, I only now remember that the opening sequence was drawn in the archaic, fluid style of early cartoon animation (Steamboat Willy, Olive Oyl and Popeye) because, of course, it was depicting events which predated the time of the film proper. The style served a purpose, beyond being an end in itself.

For a long time after watching the film I remained puzzled about its appeal to me. I've seen a large number of animated feature films, but none have left me quite as reflective as did this one. I was less concerned with the meaning of the details. It is a cartoon, after all.

I continued to wonder about Madame Souza's expression. About how the creator was able to invest such meaning in those simple dark circles set behind thick lenses and the line of her mouth, which modulated between forthright resolve and a gentle satisfaction. Then it occurred to me. Beyond the larger outline of the story and the details in which it is couched, it tells us of the power of one person's love and concern for another. I suppose we all wish we could receive such unconditional love, and it makes us feel warm to think that such a thing could actually be. Even if only in a cartoon.

The film either will or will not appeal to you, depending on what it is you're looking for in an animated feature film. I watched it without expectations, and was left wondering, "Why does it resonate with me?" And you'll want to see it again.