Rio: Mr. Cliché Ruins the Fun

For those of you that are from the U.S., U.K. cinemas are often subjected to a mobile phone company doing a little sketch before the film starts, about phones ruining the film. These are occasionally funny. Recently, the film Rio lent two of its characters to their sketches. This sketch definitely wasn’t funny. This sketch also, has played prior to every single film in our country for two months. TWO MONTHS! You can’t even imagine the level of contempt I’ve had for a fictional bird, and so when I was asked to review Rio, I approached it with a little bit of trepidation.

To be fair to the film however, its opening scenes won me over. The set-up of Rio is a picture perfect example of good, visual storytelling. And this is no small compliment, because it seems to me that whenever people rant and rave about a film, rarely do they mention how “amazing” those first ten minutes are, normally because those early minutes must cover a hell of a lot of ground: introducing the protagonist(s) and status quo, establishing the world of the story and any specific rules that go along with it, as well as delivering the dramatic premise. That’s a ton of information, but it’s usually not executed with a ton of unforgettable “wow” moments (unless of course the film opens with some huge action sequence, like the Dark Knight, or the acorn antics of Ice Age). But the opening set up of any film is vital if not for one important reason alone: It establishes the protagonist’s objective and the major problem he or she must face in order to obtain that objective. The opening ten minutes of Rio, however, establishes three of these problems.

The first problem sets up the theme. Blu (Jesse Eisenberg) is a domesticated Spix’s Macaw, who, having been smuggled out of his native Brazil by bandits, has managed to wind up in Snowy Minnesota. He is raised by the unadventurous Linda (Leslie Mann), who never goes on holiday and rarely steps foot outside her bookstore to experience the world. Blu is also uninterested in leaving his little world, one which is dangerously oppressive. This is clarified to us in a scene in which Blu is bullied by two wild birds for his lack of freedom. Right away we understand that Blu needs to be set free even though he doesn’t realize it himself, but it will be up to him to embrace the fantastic adventure of life in order to escape from metaphorical bondage.

The second problem establishes the plot. Brazilian scientist Tulio (Rodrigo Santaro) arrives on their doorstep, and informs Linda that Blu is the last male of his kind. He wants him to return to his homeland in Brazil to mate with a female they have in their care, which nicely sets up a conflict for Linda and Blu. They don’t want to leave their little world, but the extinction of an entire species is at stake if they don’t. That’s a lot of responsibility to place on a little feathered bird.

The third problem initiates the running gag: Blu can’t fly. Kidnapped before he could learn in his natural habitat, he has failed to learn what should come naturally to him. Instead, he has picked up human traits like walking and drinking hot chocolate. Again, Rio shows this to the audience, twice in fact. Naturally, we are going to see Blu in situation after situation in which the inability to fly is going to cost him dear. And in solving it, he is going to win everything.

So Blu heads to Brazil and meets his mate, who turns out to be a feisty free spirit called Jewel (Anne Hathaway), who has a dislike for him and his domesticated ways, believing him to be trapped by untrustworthy humans. They are captured by bandits, chained together, meet a villainous Cockatoo called Nigel (Jermaine Clement), travel across Rio de Janeiro in order to break free of their shackles, and for Blu to return to his owner. It’s a well-worked premise, which sets up a wealth of conflict for our main character.

So it’s such a shame that the remainder of the film is a bland and unappealing mess. Mr. Cliché turns up to ruin the fun halfway through, with scenes that have been overdone and telegraphed from a mile away. Blu and Jewel are convinced to go to a nightclub (for animals) and guess what? The bad guys show up. Tron: Legacy did the same bloody scene six months ago. I understand its Brazil, and there has to be some reference to samba (oh, and there’s definitely enough references to samba), but this scene is just damn, lazy writing.

It spreads to some of the minor characters too. The nagging wife of a Toucan who appears early on, the dumb henchmen and their slightly less dumb boss, all appear as one-dimensional hooks to hang a joke or a plot point on. These might seem like minor complaints, but when you’ve seen these types of characters before, it breaks your concentration, and your involvement with the film. Quite simply, it’s hard to care about the copy of the copy of the copy. Give us an original character, in an original situation, and in an original scene, and we will eat it up like ambrosia.

Finally, there is something rather cynical about the whole thing. There seems to be moments that must have been spearheaded by the marketing department rather than from a film making point of view. The hip-hop montage at the end which has become a clichéd staple of animated films now, the tie cameo in with angry birds, and the fact I’ve had to sit through all those adverts for that mobile phone company beforehand, left me feeling cold. Rio has moments when it is sweet natured and quite charming, but equally as many moments when it feels soulless and all-too familiar.

But I suppose, for a kid’s film, its fine. Except that Toy Story 3 was a kid’s film. And Shrek was a kid’s film. And How To Train Your Dragon was a kid’s film. All were “kid films” that still found a way to be universally loved by children and adults alike. I guess the movie marketing departments deduce that kids will love anything that’s fuzzy with giant eyes and a funny voice; adults, however, when that’s all there is to offer, have a tendency to grow contempt for the animated creatures. I know I did. Rio should have done better.