Robert Zemeckis will surely disagree with me, but the colossal thud made by Mars Needs Moms might just be the best thing for him. An ardent supporter of motion-capture-based animated films, Zemeckis has made nothing but since 2000 (that'd be The Polar Express, Beowulf and A Christmas Carol). Perhaps one day—when the technology is yet further evolved—someone will make a mo-cap masterpiece, but until then, Zemeckis owes it to himself to pursue other opportunities (he'll always be considered the Godfather of mo-cap). Zemeckis didn't direct Mars Needs Moms; he produced it. But the discrepancy between the $150 million price tag and its $6.8 million opening weekend proved Disney right in its decision a year ago to part ways with Zemeckis' ImageMovers Digital and has fueled rumors that Zemeckis will return to concentrating on live-action filmmaking, much to the delight of his fans.
But enough shop talk. Mars Needs Moms isn't just an industry cautionary tale; it's also an affront to author-illustrator Berkeley Breathed (Bloom County) and his fans. In the hands of writer-director Simon Wells (who coscripted with Wendy Wells), Breathed's forty-page storybook becomes an 88-minute eyesore with stock characters and a bloated, derivative plot that borders on incoherence. Through the magic of mo-cap, thirtysomething Seth Green plays nine-year-old Milo (dubbed by Seth Dusky), a typically whiny American boy who takes his mom (Joan Cusack) for granted. Cue the thieving Martians, who whisk Mom away to the red planet while stowaway Milo freaks out. In desperate need of a friend, survivalist Gribble (Dan Fogler) quickly seizes on Milo, and agrees to help him save his mother from being used up and mortally discarded by the mom-needing Martians under the thumb of the villainous Supervisor (Mindy Sterling). Milo and Gribble wind up aided by good-hearted native Ki (Elisabeth Harnois), who has learned English from what appears to be a single, hippie-themed episode of a '60s sitcom.
The kernel of Breathed's story is still here: that ordering the trash taken out and broccoli eaten notwithstanding, mothers love their children unconditionally, and children should return the favor. Some will chafe at the gender roles here—action-oriented but irresponsible and dimwitted "dancing and playing males" versus sensible, sensitive, thoughtful women defined mostly by caretaking (on small and grand scales), and if the Wellses are indeed after satire, they're aiming it at the wrong, impressionable audience. But it would be a mistake to give the picture too much thought: the story is strictly a chase format designed to showcase ugly spectacle of the 3D variety (remember when cinematic kids' fantasies were brightly colorful?). The dystopian junkyard Mars and fatty supporting character are pure Wall-E, while the gleaming interiors suggest Imperial Cruiser vastness (this picture's R2D2 is a robot named Two-Cat; it's Chewbacca a native named Wingnut).
Wells clutters up the frame good, and Mars' low gravity adds some novelty to the movement. The 3D predictably takes advantage of vertiginous views and trips down waterslide-like chutes. But it all comes back to the mo-cap, which—with its creepily dead-eyed characters—still seems a fool's errand. The Disney classics aren't beloved for photorealism, and the $150 million budget doesn't exactly make the argument that this adventure is cheaper in pixels than it would've been in live action. So the whole fiasco turns out to be an excuse to let Seth Green play a (redubbed) little boy. Next time, maybe just cast a real boy, build some sets in an old barn, and have Mom make the costumes.
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