The Avengers is a triumph not of filmmaking or even entertainment, but logistics. Before the movie was even out, the single most widely bruited thing about it was the mere fact that it was being made — that someone had managed to corral several disparate comic-movie franchises under one roof and give them a single film to play together in. When people refer to a given movie as an “entertainment machine”, The Avengers might well serve as the textbook reference example. It entertains, but only in the sense that they got the bear to dance.
Perhaps they couldn’t risk doing anything more than that, given how much money was at stake. That and the fact that the film is a sequel of sorts to not just one movie but several at once: Iron Mans I and II (of which only the first one was worth any salt); the Incredible Hulk, which didn’t even retain its star; the half-a-great-movie of Thor; and the remarkably inspired Captain America: The First Avenger. There are good movies in that mix, and at least two great ones, but what made any one of them great had little to do with its presence in the continuity of a franchise. Iron Man was a lightning-in-a-bottle experience, where most of the free-floating alchemy of the film was transmuted through Robert Downey, Jr.’s performance. And Captain America, again, made good more on the strength of its central performance than because of the exact story it was telling, a story which was essentially a lead-in to this one.Read more
The rabbi’s cat is a scrawny, grey creature who spends his time slinking around the docks of pre-WWII Algieria, fighting the other toms for fish heads, and dozing off in the lap of his master’s daughter. He’s as insular and selfish as you would expect a cat to be. One day in a fit of pique, when the rabbi’s back is turned, he devours the rabbi’s mouthy pet parakeet. This does more than satiate his hunger: it gives the cat the power of speech, and the very first thing he does is flat-out deny he ate a parakeet. After all, wouldn’t one of the hallmarks of sentience be the ability to lie?
This is a grandly funny scene, and it sets the tone for how The Rabbi’s Cat is not some dumb film where a talking cat is milked for jokes about how idiotic everyone else is. It’s a mix of smart, adult animated productions like Persepolis or The Triplets of Belleville, with the fantasy-mythology undertones of one of Isaac Bashevis Singer’s stories. Then again, those were the same aromas also exuded by Joann Sfar’s graphic novels that were the source of this film — doubly so since Sfar himself storyboarded and oversaw the production. Animation for thinking adults seems to come from two places, Japan and France, but France gets even less attention for such work than Japan does, and given how fresh and original this film is, that’s a shame.Read more