Disney's Around the World in 80 days
Being locked for 12 hours inside a jet liner leads one to do things that, under normal circumstances, one wouldn't dream of doing, possibly because the low pressure and the dry air reduce the flow of oxygen to the brain and the notoriously bland airline food depresses one's spirit. Be it as it may, it is under these circumstances that I found myself, my vacation books all read, to watch Disney's version of "Around the world in 80 days," a most unfortunate decision, as it turned out. One would think that deriving a film for kids from a Jules Verne book should be a rather straightforward affair: Verne's books contain plenty of adventure, generations of children have loved them as they are, and they are written in a style as cinematic ally oriented as Michael Chrichton (and more nobly so: Verne, just as Chrichton, is not a great writer but, at least, he didn't choose his writing style with an eye on the movie rights). "Around the world in 80 days" is, among other things, a gentle French divertissement at the expense of British propriety, the emblem of which is Phileas Fogg (a name, I suppose, contrived by Verne to resonate with one of London's better known features): a proper, organized, methodical, punctual member of the conservative Reform Club, whose faith in orderly progress leads him to believe that he can circumnavigate the globe in 80 days simply because Her Majesty's train and ship time tables say so: mother nature and its unpredictability would not dare to stay in the way of the British empire. With the exception of the name, nothing of this is left in the film's Fogg: a goofy inventor eternally in contrast with the establishment of which the book's Fogg was the epitome, all in all a figure closer to the most trite American mythology than to the stereotypical Englishman as humorously seen by a XIX century French writer. The film's Fogg is afraid of leaving England for the first time; no such concern could arise in the mind of the book's Fogg: he will never leave England, because he carries it with him wherever he goes. The book's Fogg is imperturbable: in the whole book he loses his temper only once, to punch Mr. Fixx in the face after he confesses that Fogg has been arrested by mistake. The film's Fogg is the comic relief of an action film. Speaking of action, the need for plenty of it leads to the silly idea of a Chinese Passepartout (Jackie Chan, as ubiquitous as weed), to an improbable gang of Chinese bad guys (and girl) that go to extraordinary and inexplicable lengths to put their hands on an objectively worthless Chinese village, and to the replacement of the false accusation of theft (by Fogg) of money from the Bank of England with the true one of theft (by Passepartout) of a jade Buddha from the same bank (what was a jade Buddha doing in the Bank of England anyway?). All this just for an excuse to pack the film with martial art scene that go as well with the book as a tarantula on a pudding. Schwarzenegger plays (with the nice self-directed sense of humor that he already displayed in "last action hero") and incongruous and unlikely Turkish prince. Unlikely as it may be, Schwarzenegger is more credible in it than in his current role of a California governor.
You might think that I take too seriously a terrible rendition of what is, after all, just an adventure book, that it is not as if Disney had ruined "Crime and Punishment," and that I am trying to play philology on the wrong ground. But, you see, I do believe that if you don't have the creativity to come up with your own ideas, if you have to take them (and, more importantly for Disney's marketeers, their well known title) from somebody else, you should have the decency to respect their work, that re-interpretation is admitted, but only on well motivated grounds (vide "Romeo and Juliet" with Leonardo di Caprio). There are other important considerations. The action scenes, the evil and stupid bad guys (poor Lord Kelvin, pioneer of thermodynamics!), the antagonistic attitude of Fogg reflect more the desire of Disney to adhere to Hollywood stereotypes than anything Verne wrote. Once again, we see that Hollywood is capable of producing exactly the same film starting from no matter what story, and it considers its public incapable of understanding anything beyond the limited confines of its stereotypes. Quite an insult to the children's intelligence, really. Verne manages to create a continuing and interesting adventure, loved by children, without deviating too much from his two themes: the trip, and the mistaken pursuit of Mr. Fixx (and no: the gentlemen of the Reform Club wouldn't dream of using him for playing dirty tricks!). This useless film, putting action first, goes in all directions and manages only to be excruciatingly, blisteringly dumb.
Being locked for 12 hours inside a jet liner leads one to do things that, under normal circumstances, one wouldn't dream of doing, possibly because the low pressure and the dry air reduce the flow of oxygen to the brain and the notoriously bland airline food depresses one's spirit. Be it as it may, it is under these circumstances that I found myself, my vacation books all read, to watch Disney's version of "Around the world in 80 days," a most unfortunate decision, as it turned out. One would think that deriving a film for kids from a Jules Verne book should be a rather straightforward affair: Verne's books contain plenty of adventure, generations of children have loved them as they are, and they are written in a style as cinematic ally oriented as Michael Chrichton (and more nobly so: Verne, just as Chrichton, is not a great writer but, at least, he didn't choose his writing style with an eye on the movie rights). "Around the world in 80 days" is, among other things, a gentle French divertissement at the expense of British propriety, the emblem of which is Phileas Fogg (a name, I suppose, contrived by Verne to resonate with one of London's better known features): a proper, organized, methodical, punctual member of the conservative Reform Club, whose faith in orderly progress leads him to believe that he can circumnavigate the globe in 80 days simply because Her Majesty's train and ship time tables say so: mother nature and its unpredictability would not dare to stay in the way of the British empire. With the exception of the name, nothing of this is left in the film's Fogg: a goofy inventor eternally in contrast with the establishment of which the book's Fogg was the epitome, all in all a figure closer to the most trite American mythology than to the stereotypical Englishman as humorously seen by a XIX century French writer. The film's Fogg is afraid of leaving England for the first time; no such concern could arise in the mind of the book's Fogg: he will never leave England, because he carries it with him wherever he goes. The book's Fogg is imperturbable: in the whole book he loses his temper only once, to punch Mr. Fixx in the face after he confesses that Fogg has been arrested by mistake. The film's Fogg is the comic relief of an action film. Speaking of action, the need for plenty of it leads to the silly idea of a Chinese Passepartout (Jackie Chan, as ubiquitous as weed), to an improbable gang of Chinese bad guys (and girl) that go to extraordinary and inexplicable lengths to put their hands on an objectively worthless Chinese village, and to the replacement of the false accusation of theft (by Fogg) of money from the Bank of England with the true one of theft (by Passepartout) of a jade Buddha from the same bank (what was a jade Buddha doing in the Bank of England anyway?). All this just for an excuse to pack the film with martial art scene that go as well with the book as a tarantula on a pudding. Schwarzenegger plays (with the nice self-directed sense of humor that he already displayed in "last action hero") and incongruous and unlikely Turkish prince. Unlikely as it may be, Schwarzenegger is more credible in it than in his current role of a California governor.
You might think that I take too seriously a terrible rendition of what is, after all, just an adventure book, that it is not as if Disney had ruined "Crime and Punishment," and that I am trying to play philology on the wrong ground. But, you see, I do believe that if you don't have the creativity to come up with your own ideas, if you have to take them (and, more importantly for Disney's marketeers, their well known title) from somebody else, you should have the decency to respect their work, that re-interpretation is admitted, but only on well motivated grounds (vide "Romeo and Juliet" with Leonardo di Caprio). There are other important considerations. The action scenes, the evil and stupid bad guys (poor Lord Kelvin, pioneer of thermodynamics!), the antagonistic attitude of Fogg reflect more the desire of Disney to adhere to Hollywood stereotypes than anything Verne wrote. Once again, we see that Hollywood is capable of producing exactly the same film starting from no matter what story, and it considers its public incapable of understanding anything beyond the limited confines of its stereotypes. Quite an insult to the children's intelligence, really. Verne manages to create a continuing and interesting adventure, loved by children, without deviating too much from his two themes: the trip, and the mistaken pursuit of Mr. Fixx (and no: the gentlemen of the Reform Club wouldn't dream of using him for playing dirty tricks!). This useless film, putting action first, goes in all directions and manages only to be excruciatingly, blisteringly dumb.