We’ve lost something now that elaborate, sophisticated full-length animated movies have become big business in Hollywood: Technical proficiency is up. But disreputability is way, way down. Pixar has set the bar high for superior quality, perceived classiness, and allegedly deep, soulful thematic undercurrents, and other studios have scrambled to compete. Even Dreamworks’ Shrek movies, with their piled-on pop-culture references and ever-so-gentle boogery gross-outs, feel highly mechanized rather than breezy. Nothing in animation feels casual anymore, and worse, so much of it is designed to encourage good behavior and love for our fellow human beings. No anvils falling on heads, no coyotes being blown up by TNT. It’s enough to make you make you want to blast your own duckbill off with a shotgun. At last, Universal offers a raygun of hope with Despicable Me, a picture that manages to feel both original and pleasingly nostalgic without straining for either effect.
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REVIEW: Despicable Me Delivers With Retro Zest to Spare
