This Week in Cinemasochism takes a look at movies that have been notoriously rejected by the mass populace, and tells you if you might perchance be missing a classic. Or not.
The Oogieloves in The Big Balloon Adventure came and went with barely a whimper in the late summer of 2012. With a budget estimated at $12 million, it made about 1 of those millions back in its short but wide release, setting the record for lowest-grossing opening weekend for a film running on over 2000 screens.
Children's films like this seem to fall the hardest. In a world where we have The Lego Movie, Harry Potter, Shrek, the Marvel films, or any of the Disney and Pixar movies that appeal equally well to kids and their parents, enough producers still seem to put their money into films that aim for the lowest common denominator, forgetting that kids can enjoy smart humor just as well as silliness.
Who is The Oogieloves for? Certainly not for anyone above the age of 3, I would think. It's the brainchild of Kenn Viselman, whose name is announced by the opening credits with the majesty usually reserved for Walt Disney. I read on IMDb that he's the producer of the "Teletubbies," and this film exists on about the same plane. Unlike the TV tubs, the Oogieloves and their friends speak in words and sentences rather than in seemingly random noises, but that doesn't necessarily make them more coherent. As with the 'tubbies, the aim of Oogieloves seems to be to fill the screen with colorful sights, constant action, and various silly sounds to appeal to very, very, very young viewers.
Certainly by now we all know what an Oogielove is, but I'll explain for the few who are uninitiated into the Oogielove phenomenon that has swept the nation. The Oogieloves, we learn, are Gooby, Zoozie, and Toofie, three hideous giant plastic children--played by full-size adults in Teletubby-like costumes, whose faces barely move. I've complained about the partially paralyzed look of motion-capture characters in movies like The Polar Express and Beowulf, but these decidedly analog live-action characters are even worse. Smiles barely vary from frowns, and the three protagonists' stonefaced, deadened non-reactions to the wackiness around them makes them seem like refugees from an Antonioni film.
Like all good Ninja Turtles, each Oogielove has his or her defining talent and personality type. Gooby loves science and wears glasses. Zoozie loves sparkles and can speak any language (though most of her talent is dedicated to interpreting animal sounds). Toofie is the party dude whose pants keep falling down. The plot, so far as there is one, involves their excursion to retrieve five magical balloons as a birthday present for their pillow, Schluufy. (No word on whether Cthulhu or Azathoth will be on hand to help, but I eagerly await the presumed sequel: The Oogieloves in the Sunken City of R'lyeh.)
The movie continues in episodic structure as the three 'loves hunt down each of the five balloons while their harried father-figure, a vacuum cleaner named J. Edgar (a reference which no one in this movie's intended audience will get, and which no attending parent will find funny), waits impatiently at home. Their mother-figure is Windy, a window with a human face (Maya Stange) not unlike the mirror in Snow White crossed with the creepy sun baby of the "Teletubbies."
The movie is so completely off its rocker that the fact that its plot is completely centered around a birthday party for a pillow is completely acceptable in context. The balloons, which have talking faces not unlike Marshie the Marshmallow from "Homestar Runner," wind up in the hands of a cavalcade of celebrity guest stars, all of whom seem oddly happy to be there. Cloris Leachman (as a dancer who loves polka dots), Christopher Lloyd and Jaime Pressly (as two flamenco dancers who pilot a flying sombrero with the power of dance), Cary Elwes (as an off-putting cowboy bubble salesman), Toni Braxton (as a constantly sneezing lounge singer), and oddest of all, Chazz Palminteri (as a the cheery proprietor of a milkshake shack), all bring their collective A-game to the film. Their commitment is unearned but commendable.
The movie's main selling point is its supposed interactivity: kids are encouraged to get out of their seats, dance around, and talk back to the screen when prompted. When a flutter of butterflies flies across the bottom of the screen, that's the clue that a song is about to begin and that it's time for the kids to get up and dance; when a bale of turtles walks across, it's time to sit down. (And yes, I did just look up those collective nouns. It's fun to learn.) Sometimes the turtles arrive shortly before the end of a song and it looks like the turtles are giving the movie the gong.
After a while, the prompting of the audience grows positively tiring. The number of times we're asked to stand up and sit down rivals a game of musical chairs; sometimes we're asked to leave our seats for a mere two-line chant. Near the end, the balloons ask us to rescue them by blowing them kisses. Let it be known that I, a man who will still (as proven recently) applaud for Tinker Bell at the end of Peter Pan, was unable to swallow enough pride to blow kisses at a talking balloon. I wonder if the few children who saw Oogieloves in the theater were so entranced.
Does the movie work as it was intended? I think so; it may serve as an appropriate distraction for the toddler set, if nothing more. Maybe they'll be rapt by the brimming romance between J. Edgar the vacuum and Windy Window. Maybe they'll be utterly charmed by Schluufy, the pillow who uncomfortably resembles a mentally challenged child. Maybe they'll love the climactic musical number from the talking balloons, which may as well have been called "We Couldn't Get the Rights to 'Happy Birthday'."
The movie deserves praise in one (1) area, and that is in the performances of its three lead actors. It could not have been easy to move, let alone dance, in those gigantic costumes, but they manage, and even contribute a breakdancing number over the end credits which is actually impressive. Because of their commitment, I'd be remiss if I didn't list their names: Misty Miller, Stephanie Renz, and Malerie Grady.
Is it really that bad?: You bet.
Pain level: Advanced.
