​When you think of Halloween media iconicism, John Carpenter's 1978 namesake film starring Jamie Lee Curtis will likely come to mind (the latest major installment of the franchise was released in 2018). Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Child's Play and Scream would probably follow. Children's movies for the holiday are rarely stamped as classics because they aren't bone-chilling enough. Moreover, they often struggle to be more than a piece of nostalgia as their first viewers age. Disney's Hocus Pocus is an exception. A comedy about three minors conquering resurrected sister-witches from the 1600's, it's religiously played on television from September through November. Fans have clamored for a sequel for years, and every milestone anniversary is abundantly celebrated. Costume shops have entire sections dedicated to the film. Nothing speaks to its cross-generational power like a product-line that includes toys and teen costumes, as well as shot glasses and home-ware.
 
The joke is on screen critics from 1993, who lambasted Hocus Pocus and predicted it was doomed for obscurity. They were too busy being their usual fault-finding and cantankerous selves, they missed what would make it eternally bewitching. Senselessly looking at a youth movie through an adult lens, they made a bevy of irrational complaints and observations. For instance, some said it was "too silly;" there's no such thing as that with kids. Others would accuse it of being perverse, revealing their own warped mindsets. One reviewer supposed that the dainty way witch Sarah Sanderson (Sarah Jessica Parker) laid on her broomstick was sexually suggestive (I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I typed that sentence). Parker and the then teenage Vinessa Shaw (who portrayed Allison Watts) were the primary targets of venereal comments, but more on that problematic and unsettling aspect later. Assessments more grounded in logic deemed the film unorganized and conflicted for its contrasting comedic styles and character setups. Its variation enabled it to engage a wide audience though, which is the source of its longevity.  
 
With Hocus Pocus' humor and concepts, many writers took issue with the macabre and mature surrounding lighter fare. Slapstick hijinks and G-rated giggles were alongside moderately sophisticated sarcasm, locker-room references to women's breasts and repeat mentions of virginity. A touching moral about cherishing and protecting your siblings (to the extent of self-sacrifice) is the B-plot to witches stealing children's souls to live forever. Within the first 30 minutes (or less) alone, one child is lured away with a spellbinding lullaby and murdered, another is turned into an immortal cat, and the witches are hung (with a promise to return of course). We see the nooses around their necks, and then a cut to their dangling feet. Nothing too serious, haha.
 
What seemed like terrible, irresponsible and chaotic storytelling to the critics was actually pretty strategic and intentional...and ultimately effective. 
​
Oil of Boil, and a Dead Man's Toe (The Method to the Madness)
 
The Hocus Pocus crew explained the method to their madness in commemorative interviews with the Freeform channel last year. Writer and producer David Kirschner developed the plot with Mick Garris, seeking to break open the market for family movies in the adult-centric Halloween genre. 'House of Mouse' ideology was their compass. "Disney used to say you had to have darkness to have light. The film embraced that," soundtrack composer and long-time Disney collaborator John Debney detailed. Garris described his screenplay (co-authored by Neil Cuthbert) as "dark" and "scarier" than the end result. Moves to brighten and balance the work included making zombie Billy Butcherson (Doug Jones) "one you could date," instead of be frightened of. Choreographer and director Kenny Ortega was recruited to ensure the illuminations translated on tape. "It was a spooky comedy for sure, but it became much more fun than I had ever envisioned, and that's Kenny. He just brought a joy to it," Kirschner reminisced. 

​Warning: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
Film remakes already have plenty to live up to without having to make up for the shortcomings of a previous reboot. Knowing this didn’t keep me from expecting more from Disney’s live-action version of The Lion King, after their endeavor with Aladdin let me down though. The Guy Ritchie-directed Aladdin offered an empowered Princess Jasmine, but other changes and missed CGI (computer generated imagery) opportunities left me feeling annoyed and discontent (you can read my full review here). The Lion King had the added task of setting things right.
 
In the (unlikely) event that you have no idea what The Lion King (1994) is about, it’s kind of a coming of age tale with lots of anecdotes about life stages and how we’re all connected (so, imagine a child-appropriate NBC’s This is Us). Cub Simba (JD McCrary) is the heir to his father Mufasa’s (James Earl Jones; I'm so glad he was able to do the project, no one else would be right) throne, and his disgruntled uncle Scar (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is far from thrilled. Scar concocts a murderous plot with exiled hyenas, so he can rise to power. Simba narrowly escapes, but it’s assumed he’ll die in the wilderness. Meerkat Timon (Billy Eichner) and warthog Pumbaa (Seth Rogen) care for him until adulthood. Simba’s old friend (and eventual spouse) Nala (Beyoncé) crosses his path and relays how Scar ravaged the kingdom of natural resources. Simba (then voiced by Donald Glover) is resistant to the idea of returning home, and feels responsible for Mufasa’s death. Various happenings lead to an identity wake up call for him, and he ultimately challenges Scar’s rule.
 
Director Jon Favreau’s 2019 The Lion King (screenplay by Jeff Nathanson) is mostly faithful to its root text. Many revisions have a clear objective and/or magnify story elements. If there was going to be any similarity to Ritchie’s Aladdin, it could be with strengthening the presence of female leads. Nathanson gives Nala a more nuanced and empowering arc. We see her develop and hash out a grudge with principal hyena Shenzi (Florence Kasumba), and ascend to primacy among the lionesses. She tries to respect the elders in the pack, but becomes impatient with their docility with Scar. She arouses them to fiercely take back their land. Beyoncé does surprisingly well blending in with the rest of the voice cast (Shahadi Wright Joseph portrays young Nala). I’ll admit I doubted her ability to do this, considering her distinctly deep and American Southern accent. There are times where you can tell she’s being careful with her enunciation, but it isn’t distracting.
 
Scar and Shenzi were given extra shading. 1994’s Scar is venomous, but his haughtiness and facetiousness put an attracting glimmer around his shadows. In 2019, he’s reserved, less saucy and his quips are bitter jabs, as opposed to humorous. Ejiofor brings Scar’s acidity and boiling resentment to the surface with his breathy and distressed delivery. Unreciprocated affections are tacked on to the list of things Scar is peeved about, as an infatuation with Mufasa’s wife Sarabi (Alfre Woodard) is intriguingly included. Previously, Shenzi was ill-intentioned, but too uproarious (as only Whoopi Goldberg, who was behind the mic then, can be) to hate. Her update is decidedly diabolical, and no matter is a laughing one. What prevents these character modifications from being a total buzz kill is their apparent purpose. Scar and Shenzi (and her troupe) are unmistakably ominous and scary. The hyenas are convincing as a threat, whereas before, you couldn’t take them seriously. This effect is why you might tolerate Scar’s divo snobbery and some of the hyena banter going missing.

Warning: This review contains SPOILERS.

​One by one, Disney’s given live-action makeovers to their classic films, and 1992’s Aladdin is the latest to get that treatment. Each adaptation announcement stirs up excitement from audiences, but there’s also an anxiety and skepticism that expectations won’t be met. When it comes to remakes, viewers tend to look for three things: 1) nostalgia, 2) improved story-telling, and 3) application of today’s technology and/or cultural atmosphere. The 2019 edition of Aladdin (directed by Guy Ritchie; screenplay by Ritchie and John August) fulfills all three criteria a medium amount. That said, you’ll likely leave the theater content, but it’s equally likely there’ll be an undercurrent of disappointment.
 
Not that you’ll need this plot summary, but just for good measure: Aladdin (Mena Massoud) is an impoverished young man, whose life turns around when he finds a mystical lamp that inhabits a Genie (Will Smith). He’s allotted three wishes. He hopes to woo his city’s (the fictitious Arabian Agrabah’s) Princess Jasmine (Naomi Scott), who has her own problems. She’s regularly monitored by palace guards, and is being made to marry to retain her sovereign status. Meanwhile Jafar (Marwan Kenzari), her father’s right hand man, is secretly determined to reign.
 
Misguided casting is often the first thing to threaten a recreation project. In this case, the characterizations of the fictional alter egos were the trouble. Many Disney tales include talking animal friends with splashy personalities. They carry the humor and compliment their human companions. They’re usually positioned peripherally, but they’re essential. In Aladdin, these pet pals were the petulant and mischievous monkey Abu, and the devious and obnoxiously loud parrot Iago. Part of the thrill of a live-action rendering is seeing fantasy elements (like a mouthy monkey) become tangible. Ritchie squandered the opportunity for this. He and his team heavily focused on aesthetic realism, sucking the pizzazz out of Abu and Iago. There was a similar effect in 2017's Beauty & The Beast (you can read my review here).
 
Royal vizier Jafar is an antagonist in name only. His presentation is entirely too subtle, having none of the menacing or magnetic qualities of his cartoon predecessor. When I was younger, I had nightmares about Jafar for years. Kids now are more liable to be scared of Santa Claus than Kenzari’s copy. The character’s allure lies within his shady wit. He does things like deliberately mispronounce Aladdin’s name, and use the guy’s signature song (i.e. “Prince Ali”) to expose and humiliate him. You wonder if Kenzari's’s incarnation is even capable of making a chicken joke. 

​I have to admit that when I saw Proud Mary recently, it wasn't because I was pressed to see it. I was more excited about trying the menu at the new local dine-in theater. Come to think of it, I really gambled with my dollars; both the feature and the food could've been horrible. My meal was just okay (not that you care), but the film was better than I expected. The trailers made it seem like there wasn't much to the plot: A single mother named Mary (Taraji P. Henson) prepares to retire from being an assassin. I thought "Stuff will blow up, her last hit job will be particularly difficult, her son will briefly be in danger, and all will end well because she's just Mary." The short 88-minute runtime fed my assumptions. You know what they say about making assumptions, though...
 
With the exception of the awesome action sequences and Mary's change of vocation, I was mostly wrong about the storyline. For starters, Jahi Di'Allo Winston's character Danny is not her son. How she ends up in his orbit is the film's biggest twist, and its unanticipated (though, parts of their initial interaction are written clumsily). Her personal history and collaborative relationships are also a bit more complex than imagined. Alongside her are Benny (Danny Glover) and Tom (Billy Brown), who tread the line between 'ally' and 'enemy.' As usual, Glover brings his master-class skills, easily alternating between the two modes. In this role, he's most delicious when Benny is feeling nefarious. Fans who are used to watching Brown play the harmed good-guy on ABC's How to Get Away with Murder will have fun seeing a different side of the actor. As for Henson, she's as reliable and proficient as always.
 
The 70's style promotional artwork and music made me worry I was in for a campy, new-age take on black exploitation movies. Thankfully, the only calls to that were a black woman kicking butt and a vintage soundtrack that included the Temptations and, of course, Tina Turner. Turner's signature cover of "Proud Mary" was effectively used at the thrilling climax, and into the credits. It was a blast hearing the audience sing along and hair flip in unison.
 
Babak Najafi's Proud Mary is indeed compact, but it doesn't feel stuffy or rushed. The tangled webs, sturdy performances and cool stunts make it a good 88 minutes. It's not the total throwaway it appears to be. 

WARNING: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
Overall: The storytelling is a bit rushed, but it's an entertaining and uplifting "celebration of humanity"

If you haven't heard already, Michael Gracey's The Greatest Showman is very loosely based on the life of P.T. Barnum, the legendary circus ringleader. Looking at the film's inspirational themes, and the vast liberties taken with the facts, it's clear making another biopic wasn't the intent. Instead, screenwriters Bill Condon and Jenny Bicks use the symbolism of Barnum to remind us to dream, show benevolence and focus on what matters.
 
We watch Gracey's Barnum from his youth as a misfit (Ellis Rubin). He copes with the bleakness of his poverty-stricken life with imagination, charm and humor. He hopes to one day show up his elitist naysayers by wowing and entertaining the world. When of age (Hugh Jackman), he marries his childhood sweetheart (Skylar Dunn; later Michelle Williams), who happily leaves her lap of luxury to be with him. "Barnum's Circus" is eventually launched, piquing both interest and protest for making stars out of outcasts. The lineup consists of performers exiled for their physical appearance. To appeal to the upper-class, P.T. recruits a more traditional act: a glamorous singer named Jenny Lind (Rebecca Ferguson). He also enlists the help of a wealthy playwright, Phillip Carlyle (Zac Efron). Phillip's budding romance with Anne Wheeler (Zendaya), a black trapeze artist, tests them both in different ways. Things also get sticky between P.T., his wife and Jenny. It all comes to a head as his obsession with raising the show's profile gets the best of him, and the performers are attacked.
 
As with any proper musical, the songs strike the emotional chords of the story and sharpen its tones. Holding the defiant and aspirational spirit of the characters, each track is stirring. So much so, you'll forget you're watching a movie and will clap by reflex at the end of numbers. This is particularly true with "Never Enough" and the outsider anthem "This Is Me," beautifully led by 'bearded lady' Keala Settle. "Never Enough" marks a 'make or break' instance for P.T. He's hired Jenny by word-of-mouth alone, and has promised awe to cynical crowds with her debut. I myself was prepared to be unimpressed. I thought "I'll accept this for the pivotal scene it's supposed to be, no matter how unremarkable it is." My breath was taken away right with the fictional audience. Recall the first time you heard Adele's "Someone Like You," Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On," Whitney Houston's cover of "I Will Always Love You" or Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love." Those kinds of memories will flash before you. Perfect diva science was smartly applied to create the desired effect. You know the formula: sweet lyrics, stunning vocals and 'just right' structuring to where the song escalates, but never crushes its own tenderness. The chops were provided by Loren Allred, who appeared on season 3 of NBC's The Voice (it's awkwardly noticeable that Ferguson is lip-synching). I think it's unfortunate (and a little strange) that a dual actress/singer wasn't cast as Jenny. This way, the architect of such an wonderful moment was left out of the party.

WARNING: This review contains SPOILERS.
 
Two years ago, someone at the Disney Channel had the brilliant idea to do an original movie about the children of classic villains, with Hocus Pocus and High School Musical 's Kenny Ortega directing. In case you haven't already gathered, it was aptly titled Descendants. To give you a semi-brief synopsis, all "V.K'S" (a cute, villainous spin on the acronym for "preacher's kid") and their parents are banished to the Isle of the Lost, created by Belle and Beast (yep, that Belle and Beast). Their son, Ben, invites 4 V.K.'s to participate in his reform program of sorts, in the celestial land of Auradon. Maleficent (played by the always magnificent Kristin Chenoweth) sees this as an opportunity for her daughter, Mal (Dove Cameron), to attain Fairy Godmother's wand to break the isle's barrier. Evil Queen (Kathy Najimy) encourages her appearance-obsessed teen Evie (Sofia Carson) to find a prince, while Cruella De Vil (Wendy Raquel Robinson) urges her son Carlos (Cameron Boyce) to stay away from dogs. Jafar (Maz Jobrani) wants his thieving spawn, Jay (Booboo Stewart), to come back with some goodies. Each youth feels immense pressure to live up to their parent's iconic wickedness; Mal in particular. Executing Maleficent's plan runs accordingly, but the kiddos warm up to Auradon. Mal develops feelings for Ben, Evie learns she can rely on herself, Jay successfully channels his aggression into sports, and Carlos grows an affinity for dogs and explores his aptitudes in technology. The so-called "good kids" antagonize and snobbishly turn their backs on them though, including those that seemingly befriended them. This gives the quartet affirmation in their plot, and you're ready to see them succeed. However, they choose Auradon when push comes to shove. Mal goes on a tangent about how amazing love is, which whiffs of Disney's history with problematic romance tropes. To boot, she turns her mother into a small reptile. The rest of the parents are left watching their offspring party at a coronation on television. This is supposed to be the "right" outcome, but it doesn't feel that way. You're a little disgruntled the kids abandoned their parents and neutered themselves to stay where they weren't wanted. Then, before Mal's eyes glow green, you hear the hopeful final line: "You didn't think this was the end of the story...did you?"
 
Descendants 2 (written also by Josann McGibbon and Sara Parriott) opens with our V.K.'s turning Auradon's citizens out with "bad" apples, but it's just a daydream of Mal's. Her trademark purple hair has been dyed blonde and her leather duds have been swapped out for frilly, bright-colored dresses. Her high-profile romance with Ben has escalated to her impending status as a Lady of the Court, which is described as an "engagement to be engaged." She tries to confide in her friends that it's all making her skin crawl, but they've blissfully assimilated. Evie even admonishes Mal for not handing over her spell-book to the local museum, like Evie did her magic mirror. The museum...where there's an exhibit dedicated to the exile of their parents. *Shakes head* Instead of making mischief, Mal's been using the book to shape herself into a cookie-cutter Stepford girlfriend, but that doesn't matter to Ben. He makes it clear he wants no part of "Mally from the Block:" "I was giving you props for fitting in so well...this isn't the Isle of the Lost!" Prince Not-So-Charming doesn't realize how condescending his remarks were until he gets Mal's "Dear John" letter, relaying that she's gone back to her 'hood. He enlists her squad to help him find her and apologize. Mal ends up having to save his tail, as he's been kidnapped for wand ransom by Uma (China Anne McClain). Uma's the daughter of Ursula, and she has a long-standing beef with Mal. Her henchmen--I mean, pals--are the sons of Captain Hook and Gaston, Harry (Thomas Doherty) and Gil (Dylan Playfair).

WARNING: This review contains SPOILERS.

I'm sure the motion picture industry made a grip off of folks who were kids during the 1990's, as adaptations of Disney's Beauty & The Beast (check out my review here) and Saban's Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers were released in American theaters within a week of each other. Be still my inner child's heart! Beast was satisfying enough, but the Dean Israelite-directed Power Rangers was so underwhelming and un-rangery that it was dispiriting (screenplay by John Gatnis).
 
The intriguing attempt to add a little grit and make the film "melodramatic-teen-series meets action-fantasy" would have worked, had there been a better combination of the two. It would be hard to elaborate on this without a run-down, so here it goes:
 
Instead of upstanding citizens who are active in the Angel Grove community and make good grades, Gatnis' troupe are literally "teenagers with attitude." Eventual captain and red ranger Jason (Dacre Montgomery) is bent on blowing his football/college future away by being a delinquent. Kimberly Hart (Naomi Scott) is a mean-girl frienemy who distributed a sensitive photo of a schoolmate. Zach Taylor (Ludi Lin) is an adrenaline junkie that skips school (with good reason, we find out). Trini Kwan (singer Becky G) is a possible lesbian who clashes with her parents, while Billy Cranston (RJ Cyler) is possibly autistic and frequently finds himself in trouble since his father's death. The quintet's lives collide when they dodge police for being on restricted land and survive a car accident after jumping train tracks (as misfits would do, of course). They manage to defy death because of mystic power coins they find embedded in a rock wall. They awake with superhuman strength, and upon further investigation, discover the underground lair of former ranger Zordon (Bryan Crantson) and his robot assistant Alpha (Bill Hader). It's explained to them that finding the coins after a gazillon years means they're "the chosen ones" and they must defeat the evil Rita Repulsa (Elizabeth Banks), who's resurfaced and wants to attain the universe-yielding Zeo-crystal. She's gone on a killing spree while trying to find and ingest gold to regain full strength. In the hub of the film, we watch the rangers squabble, have a share circle, train and struggle to morph. In this story, morphing into armor is an intrinsic act; they have to "feel" it and be in unison. Zordon, who was unimpressed with them on sight, angrily loses his patience. He lets it slip that he wanted the morphing grid open so he can return to his bodily form (he's in a preserving screen) and handle Rita himself. He and Jason subsequently have a face-off. Rita plays on Trini's outcast insecurities to get her to lure the others into a trap, but Trini chooses to be loyal. Somehow, Trini's family never wakes up during the massive beat-down that ensued, but I digress. The crew decides to approach Rita without Zordon's help. Rita kills Billy, which finally unites them and opens the grid. Zordon sacrifices his chance to reform to resurrect Billy. They morph and fight putties on the ground until Rita unleashes Goldar, who's an extension of her this go 'round. The rangers get in their zords (i.e. battle machines), take down Goldar and kick Rita into the universe, freezing her. Zordon tells them to resume their lives normally and conceal their identities. When the kiddos get back to high school detention, someone is M.I.A.: a new trouble-maker student named Tommy Oliver. The end.
 
Don't let the lengthy recap fool you into thinking this movie was eventful. The pacing was muggy, stifling and sluggish (particularly in the last hour), making it that much more aggravating the franchise was treated like a sub-plot in its own film. The group spent way too much time not being rangers and many quintessential components were underplayed. For instance, there were minimal martial arts and no teleporting. The significance of the individual and collective function of each color, weapon and dinosaur (of which the uniforms and zords are fashioned after) weren't fully explained. The morph was just delayed, no gratification. It was so anti-climatic. As the teens transform, you get close-ups of their skin crystallizing into armor (no panned body shots), concluding with the red ranger's closed fist. The next thing you know, they're strutting down the walkway. It was like, "Huh? That was it? The whole time, and that's all we get?" In his review for TooFab.com, original blue ranger David Yost wrote of the sequence: "When we said 'It's morphin' time,' you knew sh*t was about to get real... feels a bit lackadaisical and is not the true transformational moment it should be." Amen, brother. Further, all of the action was crammed into maybe the last 20 minutes of the movie, and it was constipated. There were no edge-of-your-seat or "Wow, that totally kicked butt!" moments. Even the archetypal "Will they survive?" scene that's in all superhero flicks falls flat. When Goldar gradually pushes the zord-driving rangers into a fire pit, they're so noble and calm about it. It's as if they're not about to die and all of existence won't suffer at the hands of Rita afterward. The clip does nothing to invoke fear or concern from the audience. Also failing to arouse fear are Goldar and Rita (despite Banks' hearty performance), which brings me to character structure and other plot points that were forfeited in favor of several minutes of annoying teenage angst.

Given the ever-enchanting character of animated Disney films, the idea of any of them being adapted into live-action has me salivating because the possibilities are endless. If drawn figures can be so splendid, you can only imagine how they'd be with any sense of actuality. I'm a part of the Little Mermaid-Aladdin-Lion King generation, so I was drooling worse than Beethoven the dog when I heard Beauty & The Beast was going to be done. My giddiness reached epic, Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic proportions upon hearing the director was Bill Condon, who authored magic with 2006's DreamGirls (which I raved about in a December anniversary article). It had been a while since I was so eager to see a movie. Though I was far from let down and I've been humming Beast songs for days, I haven't been able to shake the feeling that something was missing.
 
Prior to hitting the theater, I assumed that if anything were to throw me off, it would be Emma Watson (of Harry Potter fame) in the lead as Belle. I was skeptical because she isn't a singer by trade and, in my opinion, she's a bit baby-faced and meek in her appearance for the role. Sure, Belle is a teenager, but considering her given traits, I envisioned someone more maturely stately and prepossessing. Say, Phantom of the Opera and Shameless star Emmy Rossum, or maybe even Disney alum Vanessa Hudgens. However, Watson didn't distract me at all. The required resolute demeanor came so naturally to her, I was sure she's Belle in her daily life. Vocally, she gave a convincing "I can carry a tune" performance. I never said to myself "Don't quit your day job."
 
The kinds of similarities and differences from the 1991 original would also dictate whether or not I'd be "thrown off." This is an area where there's almost no winning for filmmakers, because half of the audience will desire an overwhelmingly unique production, while the other half would expect a true-to-form recreation. I was of the latter portion. What's the point of a conversion if I'm going to see an essentially different movie? Songs included, Condon's Beast was nearly a frame-by-frame remake, and I appreciated the effort and attention to detail that went into making it so. The few additions and tweaks were mostly flattering. For example, new number "Evermore" was an inviting point-of-view for the Beast, in which he heartbreakingly croons over the thought of losing Belle. Celine Dion, who sung the central soundtrack theme with Peabo Bryson, makes an appearance with "How Does a Moment Last Forever" in the credits. Belle's fem-spirational moxie is expounded upon, as she's a literacy advocate and inventor (to the townspeople's dismay, of course). There's also commentary on attitudes towards women who never marry and period-references about how singlehood led to poverty.
 
So, what was the kicker? As with many things in life, it was the thing I'd least expect it to be. Remember that "sense of actuality" I mentioned? Well, in an ironic twist, the hard-press for realism made the film feel muted and unaffected for a great part of it. To make it believable that the Beast's staff had been turned into household objects, their faces were more blended in. This eliminated the expressiveness that gave Lumière (Ewan McGregor) & Co. so much fun personality. I instantly became concerned about how the reported Lion King adaption would look, presuming the plan was to use real animals. There were multiple, effective close-ups on the Beast's eyes to capture a sincere soul, but his whole picture lacked authentic communicative quality. This was something better accomplished by the 1987 CBS television series starring The Terminator's Linda Hamilton. Use of computer-generated imagery (CGI) for this project was anticipated, and the effects were beautiful, but the manufacturing was too apparent at times. Call me nit-picky, but there was a certain, breathing liveliness that wasn't successfully reproduced. Perhaps this why any scenes with Gaston (Luke Evans) and LeFou (Josh Gad) were like a shot of caffeine and I didn't hate them like I was supposed to. Both actors did an excellent job in general making their characters entertaining versus annoying, though.
I might have been blindsided by the palpability factor, but that's not to say I wasn't mesmerized by anything. I was particularly spellbound by the credits and the classic ballroom scene. Condon's ability to make an event out of end-titles is an art. Ethereal, dreamy and poignant, they were what fairytales are made of. For the ballroom, there's a moment where the Beast lifts Belle to spin her around, and the chandelier lights are pulled out with smaller, glittering beams to look like individual specs. There's just a teasing snippet of it in the trailer; in full, it's exquisite. Belle's gown wasn't an exact replica, but who's keeping score? Clearly, I am, to a degree.
 
2017's Beauty & The Beast may not be as emotionally arresting or unreserved as its parent, but it's bloody gorgeous and has a honorable dose of nostalgia. The purposes of providing a live-action aesthetic are served.

I will forever be grateful to Mr. Bill Condon, the director/screenwriter who brought DreamGirls-- one of the few all-black Broadway musicals--to the silver screen in 2006. As many other black children born in the 1980's, I grew up hearing Jennifer Holliday's puissant performance of  "And I Am Telling You, I'm Not Going." It was a definitive piece of music; it was in the vocal bible. It's what you sung if you wanted to prove you could blow a door down and emote, hence it being a go-to audition selection on programs like American Idol (oh, Idol; we'll get to them in a minute). For a while, I thought it was an album-cut of Holliday's. When I got older and learned it was from a historic, Tony award-winning, girl-group musical that mirrored The Supreme's story, I quickly went from being ecstatically curious (this was right up my music nerd alley) to heartbroken. From what I gathered, there hadn't even been a VHS release of DreamGirls. What were the chances I'd ever see what it was like in all its glory? I was overcome with rapture when I heard a film adaptation was coming: "What?! That's even better! There's so much they can do in a movie that they can't onstage! There's going to be effects! And my queen diva (i.e. Beyoncé) is going to be Deena Jones?!! I can't stand this!"
 
It seemed that there was destiny (no Bey pun intended) in the air surrounding the project. Entertainment mogul and DreamGirls rights-holder, David Geffen, turned down adaptation offers for years. The infinitesimal amount that gained the slightest steam swiftly cooled off. Condon long fantasized about doing the musical, but reportedly didn't think he'd have a shot with Geffen, especially since he hadn't directed a conversion before and the majority of his resume consisted of anything but Broadway (he wrote the screenplay for Chicago in 2002). A casual conversation about Chicago with producer Laurence Mark led to a lunch date with Geffen, who stiffly reiterated his hesitance at scheduling. The immovable Geffen granted Condon his wish after hearing a roughly 10-minute description of Condon's vision.
 
Beyoncé Knowles' creative collaborator and choreographer, Frank Gatson, supposedly prophesied that she was Deena somehow, when she was 16. Jennifer Hudson had little notoriety and no significant acting credits then, but she beat out over 750 actresses for the essential part of Effie White...Holliday's role. Hudson's claim-to-fame was Season 3 of Idol in 2004, of which she didn't fare too well. She had to be salvaged by Randy Jackson as a "Wild Card" pick, only to eliminated again and place 7th. Like Effie, she was about to get a triumphant second wind. It might have just been extra gravity that she had the same first name and initials as her predecessor, she and Knowles were born 4 days apart in September the year DreamGirls debuted in 1981 (third "Dream" Anika Noni Rose's birthday is September 6, 1972), and the film was set for theater release on December 25, 2006...exactly 25 years and 5 days after the stage production. Sparkling fairy-dust all around, DreamGirls was revived to cast its spell on a new generation, and I was surely bewitched, bothered and bewildered. It was everything I dreamed (pun totally intended) it would be. So, in commemoration (I can't believe it's been a decade already), here are things I love and observed about one of my favorite movies. 

The Aesthetic Was Magical Mr. Mistoffelees
Part of what makes DreamGirls so intoxicating is its dazzling and meticulous aesthetic. From the opening scene, everything flashes, shimmers and gleams. Elements like spinning mirrors/reflections, glitter and snapping bulbs create this sense of magic that's used to heighten and emphasize parts of the story, entrapping the viewer. Some of the most enchanting numbers are the title song and "I'm Not Going," of course. The Dreams' first performance is announced over rumbling drums and harking horns, as they appear in an iconic pose under a spotlight on a rotating platform. The angle is at such a distance and the ladies are so frozen still, it's as if they're music box figurines. When they shuffle out on stage, I could just die. It's everything I love about pop-divadom and girl-groups: precision, glamour and infectious tunes. While Deena delightfully twirls and croons "All you have to do is dream," the audience fades and all you see are a bevy of lights that look like stars. The Dreams go back into formation (I had to say that, haha) at the conclusion, and a shining press montage begins to signify their stardom. It's so beautiful and fantastic. "I'm Not Going" marks Effie's heartbreaking descent from the group. People she's known since childhood have abandoned her, and they vanish between mirrors like ghosts. She begins to plea with Curtis. It's hard to watch because you know she's been in love by herself the whole time, and he doesn't know she's pregnant. Curtis dashes out, and she's left pronouncing "you're gonna love me!" to an empty ballroom. The space becomes shadowy and hollow, with single beams highlighting her face or outlining her body, as she grips her growing belly with anguish. It's incredible how it underscores both her loneliness and defiance. In a symbolic blink, the camera pans away from her mid-note to gold curtains, fireworks and The Dreams in stance with their replacement. They not-so-ironically sing a song that has the main lyric of "Love, love me baby, love, love me, child." In the finale, the group reunites with Effie for their farewell show. The movie closes with them in one last pose, encircled by silver glitter that turns to blue, with an overlaying "twinkling" sound effect for the directing/producing credit. The next thing we see is a close-up of Deena and Effie holding hands as teens, initiating pop-art-like collage frames for the cast/crew credits. Hudson appears last for a classic "Introducing..." roll, designed for thunderous applause. These are just a few examples. If love is in the details, DreamGirls is cupid. Even the menu on the DVD is entertaining and visually captivating.

​First things first, do not, I repeat, do not spend extra money to see Disney's latest live-action remake of The Jungle Book in 3-D. I know, the trailer looked amaze-balls (it was the main reason I was pressed to see it myself), but it's a lot like a food-commercial: the product in-person isn't as impressive. A few things stand-out as designed, but not to where it seems like it's right in front of you. It's the equivalent of a children's pop-out book. Outside of that, the visuals are incredibly stunning, using the best in computer graphics to create the majestic, exotic paradise that is the backdrop.
 
The plot is essentially the same as the 1967 cartoon version: an abandoned child, Mowgli, gets raised by wolves in the jungle and has to evade the threat of a vicious tiger named Shere Khan. How we get from point A to point B are where the changes come in, and they're mostly positive, as they enhanced the emotionality of the story. Significantly, Shere Khan (Idris Elba) has a legitimate motive for targeting Mowgli other than just being a man-eater, and how he's ultimately taken down is far more dramatic and worthy of being the climax. Mowgli (Ritesh Rajan) is braver, charming and actually interesting this time, not taking a backseat to Baloo and Louie (maybe screenwriter Justin Marks felt that in order to spice Mowgli up, Louie's spark had to be diminished; he was made more ominous). Other modifications, including the ending, the increased role of Mowgli's wolf-parents, how he meets Baloo (Bill Murray), and a further emphasized message about animal/nature mistreatment deepened the sense of kinship.
 
When you start flipping the script (do you like my movie pun?), the good stuff sometimes gets thrown out in the midst; kind of like that antibiotic you take that gets rid of good bacteria. The middle was cut with nothing in its place, removing a song (2 in total) and reducing the number of characters Mowgli interacts with. This wouldn't be an issue if the pace didn't slow and things got less eventful as a result. The iconicism of the music wasn't brought into 2016, mainly because it was obvious that the voice actors who performed the tracks (including Christopher Walken as Louie and Scarlett Johansson as Kaa) don't have singing as their day job. Given that music is a big part of Disney magic, this definitely took away from the film. Additionally, there wasn't a lot that kids would laugh at. It's not that the movie is inappropriate for children, I'm just not sure they would find it consistently entertaining. It honestly serves adults more, and only does so in the setup and peak. This edition of The Jungle Book isn't awful, but I don't believe it will be remembered beyond its effects and adorable lead actor.