The first few scenes of Lilo & Stitch,
Disney’s latest animated adventure, have such a disparate tone from each other
that you can’t help but wonder if the movie will ever settle down into a
consistent feel. I’m not sure that it ever does really. Throughout it combines
broad physical humor with pop culture references skewed toward adults and slick
sentimentalism with crass irreverence. Still, it’s precisely this wildness
that gives this cartoon a freewheeling quality that makes much of its idiosyncrasies
more tolerable than you might expect. A wild pre-title sequence sets up most of
the plot. A scientist on trial for ethical violations (timely!) is recruited to
track down his escaped biological war weapon after it escapes to Earth, a
primitive planet that’s being used as a wildlife preserve to rebuild the
endangered mosquito population. Since this is a Disney movie though, that war
weapon turns out to be, Stitch, an endearing little creature that roughly
resembles a fuzzy blue wolverine.
The majority of the movie takes place in Hawaii, where
Stitch crash lands, and the filmmakers capitalize on that location by providing
surfing montages, luaus, and rampant bouts of hula dancing. It’s here that we
meet Lilo, the titular Hawaiian pipsqueak who gives the movie the majority of
its heart. Certainly the first time that Lilo speaks, it prepares you for the
worst. As the latest in the long line of animated Disney orphans, she comes
equipped with a pair of unsymmetrical eyes and a grating, high-pitched squeal of
a voice that pegs her as about the farthest thing possible from likable. Worse
yet, it seems that whenever she’s onscreen and the movie begins preaching
about the bonds of family, the satiric edge that the movie had built up to that
point evaporates. Midway through the film, however, a curious thing happens, and
suddenly she morphs from strident, to acceptable, to downright likable. The
message of the movie suddenly seems intrinsic to its success, and a new moral
arises: “Never underestimate the Disney animators’ ability to sell you
sap”.
There’s no denying that the animation in Lilo &
Stitch is one of its primary joys. It’s cel-based, with only the smallest
amount of computer assistance, and the characterizations and lively backdrops
have a vibrancy that no computer animated feature has yet matched. Small
details, like a robot that vomits a mixture of screws and cogs when disgusted,
make the world that the film takes place in come alive. The soundtrack doesn’t
hurt either. Instead of being chock full of whatever pap Phil Collins decided to
churn out this year, a mixture of covers and classics from Elvis Presley’s
catalogue enliven the events. They’re infinitely preferable to a smattering of
easy-listening ballads, even if their inclusion in this kid’s movie shows us
how utterly desexualized the once racy King of Rock and Roll has become. Lilo
& Stitch might not be a new Disney classic, but it’s certainly a step
up from last year’s garish and overloud Atlantis, and it’s probably
the best cartoon that the studio has released since Mulan.