The fine line separating good-hearted family movies from inspirational films that drum in moral values is breached by Brother Bear, a plush Disney animated movie that would like to think of itself as "The Lion King Plus."
Set in the Pacific Northwest at the end of the Ice Age, Brother Bear cobbles ancient cross-cultural myths of humans becoming animals into the coming-of-age story of a hotheaded boy, Kenai (voice of Joaquin Phoenix), who must change into a bear to attain the wisdom of manhood. This opulent movie, with gorgeous rainbow animation, is heavy on message but light on humor. Most of what passes for amusement comes from the forced, not-so-hilarious banter of two squabbling moose, Tuke (Dave Thomas) and Rutt (Rick Moranis).
PHOTOS COURTESY OF BUENA VISTA
Set among pristine glaciers in a land where the northern lights bloom much of the year, Brother Bear, which opens today, imagines a semi-Arctic pre-Columbian paradise where all members of the animal kingdom except humans speak the same language. But that language often has a jarring contemporary ring. Who knew that 10,000 years ago the word dude was as ubiquitous as it is today?
This self-conscious, self-important film has the machine-tooled, market-tested gloss of an A-list Disney product straining to conquer the world the way The Lion King did nearly a decade ago. But a lot has changed in the nine years since that movie began its campaign for world domination. Disney's more visually and conceptually sophisticated Pixar films have raised the bar in animation to such a high level that even The Lion King, were it released today, would probably have a very different reception.
Music floods Brother Bear like a storm surge, and its six songs by Phil Collins are noticeably heavier than Elton John's music for the prototype. Much of the instrumental music, composed by Collins and Mark Mancina, belongs to the same quasisymphonic, pseudo-African mode of The Lion King, whose solemn tribal beats and chants, augmented by what sounded like 101 strings, evoked the Dark Continent with the cast-of-thousands grandiosity of a Cecil B. DeMille soundtrack.
If Brother Bear aspires to be The Lion King Plus, that plus is the infusion of ethnographic kitsch recycled from earlier Disney hits like Mulan and Pocahontas that adds moral tone, but no extra entertainment value.
The potpourri of myth and fantasy is swirled into a vague, all-purpose pop sermon whose message of restraint and empathy with all creatures great and small evokes everything from practicing the golden rule and following the 10 Commandments to supporting animal rights.
The story, briefly: Kenai, the youngest of three brothers, is disgruntled when he is presented with a totem of his incipient manhood, a carved bear symbolizing love. He would much rather have an eagle (signifying wisdom), like his oldest brother, Sitka (D. B. Sweeney). After a bear devours a basket of fish that Kenai carelessly tended, the boy pursues the scavenger with a vengeance. When the bear turns on Kenai, Sitka comes to the rescue, but dies saving his brother's life and ascends into the northern lights, where all the ancestral spirits dwell.
Before long those lights come down from above and turn Kenai into a bear who quickly discovers that, from a bear's perspective, spear- and knife-wielding humans are the monsters. Kenai is aghast to find himself fending off the attacks of the middle brother, Denahi (Jason Raize), who doesn't recognize his brother in his new form.
Kenai acquires a sidekick, Koda (Jeremy Suarez), a bear cub searching for his mother, and their adventures culminate on a mountain peak with another visit from the lights (and Sitka's ghost), which usher Kenai, now human again, into a wiser, gentler manhood in tune with nature.
Parents who take their children to see Brother Bear may bask in the illusion that the film is doing a far better job of teaching ethics than they ever could. But I wonder how many children go to any Disney movie hoping to learn values. Fun is what they want.
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