Watching the motion picture adaptation of Curious George stirs that tiny, peach-fuzzed part of the soul that we all thought had been safely put to bed: the inner child. "Hark!" cries the hidden thumb-sucker, back to the days of parental tuck-ins and sweeping picture books. Kids could make magic with a single purple crayon back then, and eggs were best served green and on top of a goat. Nights were usually spent curled up under a swirl of Vicks VapoRub with friendly bear pals of both the Pooh and Berenstain varieties.
If the film version of "George" rustles up those childhood pangs, it can't hope to quell them. When the movie does manage to tap the toddler vein, it's thanks only to a lush and faithful visual translation. On screen, the little monkey is as cute as ever, his world perspiring in sharp primary colors. More importantly, as an animated affair, the (mostly) hand-drawn George stands at the threshold of a major power shift in the realm of studio animation, with computer generated films ascending the thrown and traditionally animated fare banished to the gallows. In the context of this great divide, the nostalgic hunger that Curious George rouses moves past a longing for the bedtime stories of yore, on to a time when Disney and hand-drawn movies held the kids in us fast.
Much has been made recently of traditional animation's inevitable retreat. Disney may have penned its official obituary when the studio closed their hand-drawn department and shacked up with the computer whizzes at Pixar, giving cynical critics and critical cynics alike free reign to make sure we all remember the good old days of Walt. Faced with endless batches of CGI goop, many point to this years Oscar-nominated toons, all three of which are animated with clay or by hand, as the last great breaths from a dying genre. The consensus seems to be that the demise of hand-drawn pics, along with the demand for shiny, CG look-alikes turns a once veritable smorgasbord into a fast food drive-thru for the imagination.
In the middle of this messy transition prances Curious George, a colorful diversion that's hopelessly unaware of its messiah potential. While it carries the comforting pathos of paper and ink, the movie is less a document of resistance to the new CG regime than it is a passive letter of resignation. That's because "George" continues the insidious pattern of recent family films, enlisting the voice of Will Ferrell in a transparent appeal to mature audiences that's been hip since the satirical spirit of "Shrek."
It's tough to recognize the original Man in the Yellow Hat in Ferrell's bumbling Ted, who no longer wears the banana suit in the name of paternal heroism but is instead duped into buying the threads by the suspect sales pitch, "Yellow. It's the new Khaki." It seems that the movie has no time for the simple relationship fable of its roots; if, in the picture books, George was the prototypical infant, then the Man in the Yellow Hat was certainly the prototypical father. Unfortunately, Ferrell's Ted is the prototypical doofus, making for a kiddie picture that, like many of its recent brethren, feels juvenile when it should feel youthful.
Yet Curious George does more than just induce bouts of colic. As one of many in a long line of films that aspire to be merely adequate for all ages, it helpfully proves, like the masterful computer-animated Pixar films of the past decade, that quality is in the storytelling, not the format. Critics can fret over animation's new direction, but I suspect that they are pining less for traditional cartoon methods than they are for the kind of old-fashioned narrative that those films so ably embodied. It should not be forgotten that Pixar's huge success rests in its devotion to great family lore first, its technical prowess second, making the merge with Disney a good sign for the return of the sweeping animated epic.
At a time when too many features are busy pandering to too many people, the new Disney/Pixar team is one fit for real nostalgia; like a zookeeper and his animals, like a boy and his Pooh bear, it's a pairing that the eternal age-group of the inner child would love to see weather a very blustery day.