Go Along on Shrek and Fiona's Harrowing Honeymoon with Shrek 4-D

When I went to Florida recently with my aunt, uncle and cousin, we split our trip to Universal Studios into two days. We tackled Islands of Adventure on March 17 and spent March 21 at Universal Studios Florida. We did make it into Islands of Adventure again toward the end of our second day, and the crowd was noticeably thinner than it had been the first time around. However, I would say that generally speaking, Islands of Adventure was the more crowded of the two parks. After our experience the first day, my aunt got Fast Passes as soon as we got into the park, and we had no trouble whatsoever getting in on everything we wanted to ride in this park. In fact, by the end of the day, she said that she suspected we wouldn’t have really needed them. Overall, Universal Studios Florida had a much more relaxed feel to it.

The fun started with Shrek 4-D, one of several rides I rode on vacation that was more show than ride. We went through the Fast Pass line quickly, with just enough time to stop and get a good look at various displays like the Duloc bulletin board, upon which are plastered notices for upcoming events, personal ads and all sorts of other goodies. Phony movie posters scattered throughout the line were fun, too; I especially liked the looks of Donkey-Xote: A Feel Good Comedy of the Dark Ages. From outside the ride line, you can see several enormous stills from the movie, as well as a couple of large three-dimensional displays, and nearby you can get your picture taken with Shrek and Donkey. If you’re a big fan of the movies, you’ll probably also want to check out Shrek’s Ye Olde Souvenir Shoppe after the ride ends.

As we got closer to the inner ride area, we saw a television screen upon which Shrek was playing. We happened to catch it right at the end of the movie, so we got to see Fiona’s marriage scene before moving on to the area where we got our real introduction to the ride. Inside, a combination of animatronic characters and images on screens got us up to speed with the fact that several of Shrek’s friends had been captured and were being tortured and that even though the thoroughly unpleasant Lord Farquaad had been eaten by a dragon, his ghost was determined to thwart Shrek and Fiona’s happiness.

We were standing for this portion of the ride, clustered together with everyone trying to get a good view. I didn’t have any trouble seeing what was going on, though at times I didn’t quite catch everything that was being said. It generally wasn’t a problem, though, and I enjoyed the banter of the ride employees as well as the exposition of the Magic Mirror, particularly the tip of the hat to Star Wars.

The main attraction was in the theater, on the way into which we picked up our pairs of glasses. The ride employees want to make sure that as many people can get on as possible, so they try to keep this process orderly, seeing to it that everyone moves all the way down his or her row so that no seats remain empty. The seating process didn’t end up taking very long, and soon we were all comfortably resting with the glasses on our heads, ready for the show to begin.

What Shrek 4-D really is, more than anything else, is an animated short that serves as an epilogue to Shrek. Fiona and Shrek have embarked upon their honeymoon, and Donkey is by their side whether they want him there or not. This attraction doesn’t take the sequels into account; it was first unveiled in 2003, before Shrek 2 came along. So don’t expect to see Puss in Boots anywhere, but his presence wouldn’t make sense anyway given the timeline of the film. You do get to see plenty of Donkey, who is my favorite character in the movies, and of Shrek and Fiona too. Plenty of familiar voices reprise their roles, most notably Mike Myers as Shrek, Eddie Murphy as Donkey and John Lithgow as Farquaad. The animation is high-quality, and the story and jokes are well written. I think we may have laughed more on this ride than any other ride at Universal Studios Florida.

This is definitely a kid-friendly attraction, with lots of silly gags and nothing too off-color in the humor. The 4-D element comes into play now and then, but it’s not overwhelming. It’s fun when a character seems to pop out of the screen or the audience gets sprayed with a light mist when Shrek and Donkey get wet, but there’s nothing too intense here. The seats move a bit, with rickety motion during some of the big action sequences, but it’s just a slight jostle and nothing to cause any concern to those who suffer from motion sickness, as I often do. It’s just a fun, laid-back ride and a great little story that made for a great start to our day. If you’re bonkers for ogres, you certainly won’t want to miss it.

Amy Adams Finds Whirlwind Romance in Ireland in Leap Year

I’m a sucker for any movie involving Ireland, and Amy Adams has become one of my favorite actresses in recent years, so I was intrigued by Leap Year as soon as I began seeing previews. I finally got around to seeing it this week, and while it’s a thoroughly predictable romantic comedy, I found it enjoyable.

Written by Deborah Kaplan and Harry Elfont and directed by Anand Tucker, Leap Year stars Adams as Anna Brady, an upper-class woman who prepares homes for open houses. She likes her job, and she’s quite contented with her boyfriend Jeremy (Adam Scott) except that she wishes he would hurry up and propose to her already. When that doesn’t seem likely to happen any time soon, she decides to take matters into her own hands by following the example of her grandmother and proposing to her man herself. The catch: It has to be in Ireland, and it has to be on February 29th.

I’d like to think I’m fairly up on Irish traditions, but I’ve never heard of this one, and neither had most of the people in the movie, which makes me wonder if it’s not so much a tradition as something this character’s grandmother just happened to do. Certainly, it seems silly for her to be so set on this date and location when her boyfriend is probably unaware of the significance. However, it gives her journey more urgency, even if it is a bit artificial.

Adams isn’t at her most charming here, but she’s mostly likable despite some irritating tendencies. Mostly, she’s a bit of a diva, and when complications ensue as she tries to surprise Jeremy by meeting him in Dublin, where he’s away at a conference, she does a little more complaining than is called for. Then again, she does have one heck of a trying trip - but, of course, it turns out to be the most rewarding adventure of her life.

I enjoyed the verbal jousting of Anna and Declan (Matthew Goode), the pub owner who agrees to shuttle her to Dublin from the Irish tiny town where she winds up. Goode has an appealing rugged charm to him, and Declan comes across as down-to-earth, friendly but unwilling to be bullied. Their animosity blooming into respect and then affection reminded me of Far and Away, except in that movie, the relationship develops over the course of several months. Here, it all happens in a couple of days, which makes the whole thing seem considerably less realistic.

I was also a little bothered by the fact that we’re obviously supposed to dislike Jeremy, but he’s really not a bad guy. He’s just preoccupied - which I imagine has to do with the fact that he is a cardiologist - and a bit insensitive. Mostly, though, he just doesn’t make much of an impression; he barely shows up in the movie, which allows viewers not to be too troubled by the idea that he could lose his girlfriend to this cheeky Irishman.

My favorite aspect of the movie was the setting, with its green expanses and cozy cottages, and the most entertaining bits to me were those involving elderly pub regulars bickering over the specifics of various Irish proverbs. I also got a kick out of John Lithgow as Anna’s eccentric father, who unwittingly puts the Leap Year idea into her head.

While the premise is rather hokey, Leap Year is a light-hearted and inoffensive romantic comedy. A PG rating is rare for live-action films these days, but it perfectly suits this movie, which is geared at adults but appropriate for children. If Irish landscapes and frothy romance are your thing, don’t wait until the next February 29th to check out this little gem.

Surreal Carnival of the Animals a Showcase for Lithgow's Skill

When I first happened upon John Lithgow's Micawber in a bookstore several years ago, I had my cynical doubts as to whether this esteemed actor was equally talented in another creative area, but I was so entranced by C. F. Payne's cover artwork, featuring an adorable squirrel trying his paw at painting, that I shrugged my reservations aside. Boy, am I glad I did. Since then, I've come to regard Lithgow as one of my favorite poets. His exquisite skill as a wordsmith is enviable, and I know that if I see his name on a book, when I crack open that cover I will be in for a wholly engaging read.

So when I stumbled upon Carnival of the Animals the other day, I was thrilled. This book was originally written for the New York City Ballet after Lithgow was approached by choreographer Christopher Wheeldon to write the narration for a ballet based on Camille Saint-Saene's Carnival of the Animals. Lithgow complied and even performed in the production himself, as readers can see from the cast photograph included at the end of the book.

Though it was designed to work alongside movement on the stage, it works very well as a children's book. Oliver Pendleton Percy, a mischievous young scamp as is pretty typical for Lithgow's protagonists, sneaks away from his class on a trip to the museum and finds himself locked in for the night, at which point he becomes immersed in a surreal dreamscape of the sort Maurice Sendak might dream up. The illustrator on this occasion, however, is Boris Kulikov, who uses gouache and acrylic to give us a look at Oliver's skewed visions, which involve various acquaintances prancing about the museum in animal form.

These include Oliver's schoolmates, who transform into songbirds (the girls) and donkeys (the boys), while their younger siblings become rats. Various authority figures are transfigured as well. The school nurse becomes an lumbering elephant, the shy librarian a kangaroo, the irate music teacher a yowling baboon. My favorite page involves an elderly pair of eccentric twin sisters-turned-tortoises who, much like Chuck's aunts on Pushing Daisies, hide a wealth of talent behind those closed blinds.

While Kulikov's illustrations don't blow me away like Payne's, they work well with the text, which is just as brilliant as I have come to expect. The rhyme scheme varies throughout the book, but most pages include a six-line stanza in ABAAAB format. In addition to the lilting quality of his verse, Lithgow uses some pretty fantastic vocabulary. Among the more challenging words he incorporates: cantankerous, fussbudget, pachyderm, tremulous, manic-depressive, gargantuan and, my favorite, diaphanous.

The only real problem with this book is that it's more a list of characters than an actual story. There is a basic plot: boy gets locked in a museum overnight, boy has bizarre dream as a result, boy goes home. But while all of the human-animal characters do something, what they do doesn't really have any impact on Oliver. He watches it all happen but isn't really involved, and the various characters don't interact much with each other. So as a story, it's not as fulfilling as Lithgow's other books, but it's so artfully presented that I'm not particularly bothered by that.

Because of this book's origins, it presents a good opportunity to introduce children to ballet, to say nothing of museums, and the book's device of assigning humans an animal form based on notable characteristics is full of creative possibilities. What type of animal would you be? How about your teacher? Your neighbor? Kids can talk about it, write about it, even draw their own dreamscape portraits of folks they know. Carnival of the Animals is a great book for getting those gears turning and, if you've never read him before, a fantastic introduction to one of the most accomplished poets writing today.

A Treat for Young Musicians Everywhere

The Remarkable Farkle McBride is John Lithgow’s first book and first collaboration with C. F. Payne. Although I’d heard of it, I just read it for the first time yesterday. I enjoy Lithgow’s style very much, so I would like to read all of his books, but Farkle particularly intrigued me because Payne did the illustrations. Lithgow has written five books, but Payne has worked with him on only two. This story concerns a young boy named Farkle whose prodigious musical talents leave him unsatisfied with each of the instruments he masters.

The narrative style of Farkle is similar to that of Micawber, the first Lithgow book I read. Lithgow creates an aurally appealing story with a recurring pattern of rhyme. Most of the book features a 3-page cycle: Farkle picks up a new instrument (ABAB), Farkle plays the instrument (AAA (musical sounds) BAAAB), Farkle discards the instrument (ABAAAB). Although it includes a few upper-level words – prodigy, beseeching, rhapsodical, notwithstanding - for the most part the vocabulary is fairly simple. I would say that this easier, more predictable narration places this book toward the lower end of the picture book age range, while Micawber is geared toward the higher. Both books have a slightly PBS-ish quality about them, trying to get children interested in art and music. Another of his books involves the American Museum of Natural History, while the other two feature two unusual animals: a kangaroo and a manatee. Lithgow’s passion for entertaining seems to be coupled with a passion for education.

Payne’s illustrations are enjoyable and entertaining, though Farkle isn’t nearly as cute as Micawber. I suppose I’m prejudiced, though… He’s actually a rather odd-looking boy, who is somewhat reminiscent of Alfred P. Neuman, particularly in his cover appearance. His head often seems disproportionately large, but maybe that is supposed to be a visual nod to his genius. Up until the last few pages, each two-page spread contains a picture on one side and text, with a backdrop of musical notes, on the other. Payne captures Farkle’s endearing mix of dedication to his instrument and frustration with its insufficiency. His exasperated tantrums remind us that in spite of his talent, he’s still just a kid.

Instruments appear on each page, and when Farkle is playing, he seems to be in perfect concert with those around him. Not only do we see him playing with the orchestra, we see a bird sing along with his flute and a butterfly perch on his trombone. I love the perplexed expression on the family dog’s face as it inspects Farkle’s smashed violin and the sad open mouths of the fish that welcome Farkle’s flute to the bottom of the lake. The illustrations are rich and detailed, a perfect combination of astonishing realism and amusing caricature. Farkle in general seems to grow more cartoonish in his looks as the book progresses.

Although I did not enjoy it quite as much as Micawber, I nonetheless found Farkle to be a story of high quality and both educational and entertainment value. I hope these two collaborate again. I would recommend Farkle for younger children, particularly those interested in music. They may find inspiration in a reflection of themselves – let’s just hope it doesn’t inspire anyone to smash their violin!

Lithgow and Payne Set the Stage for a Squirrely Good Time

I love squirrels. I’ve spent leisurely mornings at my grandparents’ house gazing out their sliding back door at the squirrels scampering through the trees and fighting over space in the birdfeeder. I’ve accompanied my dad on the four-hour drive to his faculty senate meetings in State College just so I could spend the hour or so during his meeting outside tossing peanuts to the insatiable rodents, which are so used to people in that location that they sometimes take nuts right out of my hand. I’ve been the proud but frustrated owner of a squirrel feeder since middle school. For some reason the bushy-tailed bandits don’t like to venture into our yard; it may have something to do with the cats…

At any rate, I am magnetically drawn to these critters, so when I first spotted Micawber, John Lithgow’s delightful tale of an artistically inclined squirrel, I was enchanted. At the time, my only familiarity with Lithgow was as an actor, and I wondered whether his authorship had more to do with the perks of his fame than any particular writing talent. My fears were immediately allayed as I settled into the cadence of his cleverly rhymed story. I have always been a fan of books in rhyme, and Lithgow has particular skill for this brand of writing. He begins with a simple ABAB scheme, which he works from throughout the remainder of the tale, expanding it when appropriate. There is a musical quality to his lines, their intricate internal rhymes, alliteration and rhythm providing a feast for the ears to match the visual glory of the illustrations.

Authors such as J. K. Rowling refuse to shy away from the use of advanced verbiage in writing intended for children; Lemony Snicket even manages to work in overt vocabulary lessons in his Series of Unfortunate Events. Despite the brevity of this book and its placement in the young children’s section of the bookstore, its lexicon is befitting a book concerning itself with the fine arts. Delicious terminology leaps out from the page, some of which I’d never even encountered before. Rare is the picture book that will incorporate such words as appraise, scrutinize, beguiler, cadmium, vermillion, alizarin, transom and the incomparable peregrination, not to mention the squirrel’s unusual nomenclature.

C. F. Payne’s delightful artwork has graced the back page of Reader’s Digest for months, and his engaging blend of detail, emotion and humor brings to mind Norman Rockwell. The comparison is especially appropriate here, as the book’s final image is a brilliant parody of Rockwell’s famous self-portrait, with Micawber peeking at his reflection in the mirror, glasses and all. Payne has a knack for capturing ordinary moments with extraordinary splendor, and Micawber springs to life under his worthy hand. The squirrel’s bright eyes and beguiling face grace the cover, his paint-dipped tail providing a clue as to the direction the book will take.

Several two-page spreads feature a full-page illustration facing a white page containing only a few lines of text and several spatters of paint. Micawber appears in every picture, though it is sometimes hard to spot him, sneak that he is. We watch as his eyes light up with inspiration after witnessing a local artist imitate the works in the art museum he loves. His innate sense of mischief is most perfectly displayed towards the middle of the book, when he discovers color. His hands clasped together gleefully, face set in a slightly demonic smile, he surveys the results of squeezing several tubes of paint onto a waiting palette. Payne also charmingly captures the oblivious nature of his benefactor, a bespectacled woman with plenty of art supplies to spare.

This book sold me on Lithgow and Payne. Their combined talents create one of the most beguiling books I have encountered recently, and I commend them both. Micawber is sure to delight rabid squirrel fans like myself and appreciators of fine art, but its witty style and lavish illustrations are sure to draw in fans from all walks of life.

Brilliant Animation Spattered with Sludge

If you come to Shrek looking for a squeaky-clean film for your five-year-old to enjoy, you've picked the wrong movie. That isn't to say that he won't enjoy it, but you won't enjoy it when he spends the remainder of the day trying to prove that his belching powers exceed that of an ogre. Just pray the imitation stops there. This is, after all, Mike Myers, the man who brought us Austin Powers. The level of crudeness is taken down a notch for this film marketed towards youngsters, but most of the humor is definitely aimed at adults who haven't quite grown up.

If belching were the only part of this movie that is somewhat uncouth, I'd go ahead and give it a hearty recommendation. But belching doesn't begin to cover the wide array of bodily functions seen here. Young children still in the "doorknob" stage of their lives will, no doubt, find it hilarious when Shrek's flatulence kills a fish, but the smelly jokes get a little old after a while. Beyond physical humor, there is quite a bit of dialogue riddled with profanity and innuendo. Most of this comes from our heroes, Shrek (Myers) and Donkey (Eddie Murphy).

That isn't to say, however, that the film relies solely upon potty humor. Shrek is genuinely funny in many places, tipping a hat to dozens of Disney movies and nursery rhymes. Prince Farquaad (John Lithgow) tortures the gingerbread man during interrogation by dipping his leg in milk and eating it. His magic mirror is frightened into talking when he sees a guard smash a hand mirror. Donkey is lifted off the ground with pixie dust and proclaims, "You ain't never seen a donkey fly!" The princess (Cameron Diaz) sings alternately with a bluebird, but her voice grows too high and the bird explodes trying to imitate it. There's even an allusion towards the end to The Princess Bride.

Most amusing, however, is the frantically friendly Donkey, who could possibly talk the ear of the Micro Machine Man. Okay, so he doesn't talk that fast, but he certainly talks that much. Nonstop. Simultaneously lovable and annoying, Donkey is my favorite character in the film.

Shrek, meanwhile, is a green grouch with a Scottish accent and unpleasant odour. Tired of being judged by his appearance, he agrees to journey with Donkey, partly because the four-legged chatterbox doesn't seem to mind his alarming appearance. But what will happen when he finds himself falling in love with the princess he was sent to rescue, in exchange for the evacuation of his swamp? Could the fairest lady in the land ever see anything in this hideous beast? And what deep dark secret is the princess hiding from her traveling companions?

The animation in this film is breathtaking. Top-notch. The premise is basically another take on Beauty and the Beast, though this film resolves itself much differently than that Disney film did. I certainly wouldn't call this a musical, but there is some singing. Donkey's humming, some background rock and roll, and a couple of incredibly annoying tunes, one welcoming visitors to Farquaad's kingdom and one sung by a dorky French Robin Hood and his merry men. I got a lot of laughs out of this film, but I also got a lot of groans. I would definitely classify it as a film for teens, despite the way Burger King has been saturated with it for the past two months. Enjoy, but be on your guard. Disney this is not.