‘Tom and Jerry’ REVIEW: A big stinking pile of poop
‘Tom and Jerry’ REVIEW: A big stinking pile of poop
Tom and Jerry in the Chloë Grace Moretz Show.
Comedy works differently for everyone. Slapstick may not be anyone’s cup of tea nor a form that anyone would consider as highbrow, but watching outrageous characters engage in imprudent behavior and suffer from its consequences has an infectious appeal towards general audiences.
It’s not the absolute idea of getting these figures as injured as possible that makes them hilarious, but instead, the cause of laughter is the absurd nature of the stunts and the unswayed persistence of its participants that don’t play by the rules of physics and human rationality respectively. From the exceedingly ridiculous approaches in its build-up, to the short-term ludicrous disfigurement as its aftermath, each set-piece is simple in concept and yet, it never gets old, as long as the filmmakers do it right. For Tim Story, he loses sight of what is funny as he assembles his own modern version of Tom and Jerry.
Tom and Jerry (2021) focuses on a deceitful and opportunistic Chloë Grace Moretz as she’s tasked into planning a grand wedding at the Royal Gate Hotel after presenting a stolen résumé to the stubbornly oblivious hotel manager Rob Dulaney and getting hired for it. There’s also Tom and Jerry thrown in the mix, causing chaos in the establishment, but that’s not important since the human storyline eats up much of the runtime.
Chloë Grace Moretz trying desperately to pretend Tom and Jerry are with her before the pair is inserted in post-production.
The film is mixed with live-action and animation, because those involved in the production seem to believe that the popular cat-and-mouse duo isn’t enough of a selling point. Tom and Jerry—a franchise that thrives without any recognizable names except for the iconic pair—has plenty of well-known celebrities in their latest film. It’s got the aforementioned Chloë Grace Moretz, Rob Mulaney, Ken Jeong and Michael Peña. But the question remains: is casting them all the better?
The answer is, no, there isn’t a good reason why the blend of real working actors and computer-generated characters co-exist with one another. The animation is more like an add-on rather than a tangible element that is part of its world. Viewers can tell that the actors are seen struggling to interact with something that isn’t there. Furthermore, the lighting and textures of each character design don’t adapt well with the frames that are shot during principal photography.
Perhaps, director Tim Story should have played paddy cake with Robert Zemeckis in order to learn how the latter pulled Who Framed Roger Rabbit out of his magic hat. Roger Rabbit is a great example of a film mixing live-action and animation, because Zemeckis successfully convinces the audiences that both the mortal humans and the toons have a cause-and-effect link to each other. They match what’s practical with what’s cartoon, with Roger Rabbit’s VFX team often arranging both miniscule and grandeur sequences for them to interact. The two mediums blend together and form a tactile world, whereas the toons of Tom and Jerry are so well-lit and polished that it never persuades anyone that they live side by side.
In addition, screenwriter Kevin Costello makes a perplexing choice when the supposed titular stars of the film aren’t the center of the narrative. There’s too much time dedicated to Chloë Grace Moretz flirting with a bartender and saving a wedding between a couple. The only link for the cat and the mouse is to terrorize the hotel’s many guests and decorations, but it only happens so sparingly. There’s no evidence to conclude that Story wants to exploit his audiences with the scarcity of classic Tom and Jerry action, but the final film makes him look like a businessman who doesn’t trust his customers to buy his product.
Roger Rabbit also has a story involving humans, but they’re utilized better with the world built in the question: “How does the universe run when cartoon figures exist?” Apart from that, both Bob Hoskins’ Eddie and the titular Roger Rabbit are two sides of the same coin. One is a grumpy investigator—a stereotype to many anti-heroes of film noir—and the other is a jolly and reckless cartoon bunny—a common figure for a slapstick cartoon. Eddie playing the plot straight healthily contrasts Roger’s goofiness. It is a traditional buddy comedy trope, but there’s more thought and care put into them, compared to Tim Story’s revisionist mess.
On the opposite, lead actress Chloë Grace Moretz is no Bob Hoskins. Sure, she’s not a self-serious private detective. In fact, she is playing a “goofball,” a role that supposedly alleviates her performance since the actress proclaims she is one herself. Apologies to Chloe here, but audiences will doubt that they will see her genuine silly side. For someone who deceives a dim-witted Englishwoman applying in the hotel, Moretz, as Kayla, wouldn’t convince a soul staring at the screen. Sure, one can tell that she tries, albeit forcibly. A dirty white wall might as well replace her role, because the screenplay doesn’t give her the opportunity to be striking.
We never feel her relationship with Tom and Jerry build up, because there is no concrete development. There’s no chemistry because the film doesn’t dedicate the time for them to bond or play each other’s schtick. Costello only tells how the characters act when he wants them to.
Spike showing how the film is made with Michael Peña’s hand holding his leash, the latter forcing so hard to sound truly anxious over this poopy situation.
Moretz isn’t the only terrible performer, as the whole live-action cast possibly has their hand pressed on a bed of thumbtacks, because they stick out like a sore thumb. Story and Costello seem hesitant that the slapstick will hold in a feature-length film, so they squeeze in a lethal dose of try-hard improv disguised as quirky to please viewers, an element that’s nowhere near the traditions of Tom and Jerry.
Plenty of toxins are from pop culture references haphazardly thrown in. There’s even a stilted vomit of questioning Jerry’s gender pronouns that will surely have us steaming as if our heads aren’t already boiling red. Truth be told, they might as well offer a sedative to spare anyone the pain of witnessing the awkwardness of actors evoking their dead spirits in the most barren wasteland of gags. Story and Costello tangle these performers like puppeteers commanding a hollow set of mannequins.
On the contrary, the franchise is always centered on a literal cat-and-mouse chase with Tom trying to catch Jerry in reckless and sometimes, needlessly complicated fashion. It’s juvenile, but it’s juvenile with innovation and style. Perhaps, there is hope in redeeming the film from a total pile of poop with the infamous battles between the two colorful mammals.
However, we’re proven wrong. Every Tom and Jerry shenanigan falls short of length and flow. Some sequences involving pianos and Rube Goldberg traps remind fans of the lively chaos in episodes such as The Cat Concerto and Designs on Jerry, but are recreated without a sliver of creativity. It’s a shame because as humongous as the hotel seems to be, the setting has already provided plenty of open slots for spectacular mayhem. Tim Story doesn’t see them, intent on wreaking havoc without the charm that proves these set-pieces irresistible.
Ken Jeong smashing a beautiful cake with Jerry on it represents how devoid of care Tim Story has in adapting the famous cartoon.
There’s a rhythm to the physicality of the original shorts. They aren’t just the blue housecat and the brown mouse going out of their way to surpass each other’s schemes against each other. In the original shorts, the late Scott Bradley’s standout musical arrangements are synchronized within every swish, bang, slash, and wham. Even without the composer’s involvement, music is the vital ingredient of Tom and Jerry’s game.
Tim Story doesn’t know how Tom and Jerry works, as there’s no exuberant medley between action and sound. Using licensed hip-hop music provides no harmony nor any sort of purpose in improving the quality of the laughs. The film composer Chistopher Lennertz isn’t supervised clearly as his score only serves as background noise. In fact, the film only offers that: dispassionate, unimaginative noise.
At the end of the day, no one will get their money’s worth, but that depends on the gullibility of someone getting easily affected by superficial nostalgia. No one is expecting the Tom and Jerry movie to be an exceptional piece of art, but it still fails to bring a mindless yet delightful experience.
Kids will be bored, left wondering when Tom and Jerry will appear again. Adults, who grew up with the cartoons, will be reaching for a bright golden mallet to smash their own faces, because at least, doing so will make them feel something other than searing exasperation for once. Nobody wins in this cruel round, except for the people who we’ve just lended our hard-earned cash to in admission.
Tom and Jerry is now available on HBO Max.
