Who here remembers the thrill of experiencing their first trip to LEGOLAND as a kid? Chances are that your recollection of the awe and wonder inspired by meeting your miniaturised childhood heroes at the Windsor-based theme park is pretty hazy by this point, with your intense envy of those kids entering the attraction for the first time only tripled as a result. Indeed, we must bear the burden of this distorted nostalgia in numerous walks of life, but no more so than when we witness tykes and pre-teens inherit our abandoned LEGO construction boxes, discovering for themselves the infinite capacity for creation and individualism that the assorted bricks within can enable. Their discovery in turn sets in motion a cycle of innocent, unrestricted and innovative expression for them, yet for we the elder generations, it serves as a distressing reminder of our culturally-established inability at a ‘mature’ age to ever replicate that inherent sense of expressional freedom again- until now, that is.
Unlike any of Travellers Tales’ licensed video game products or Warner Brothers’ direct-to-video shorts before it, The LEGO Movie takes profound pride in its origins, utilising that iconic image of a kid clicking his first Danish-crafted bricks into place as a foundation and building (pun fully intended) upon it to the extent that it resurrects the viewer’s inner child, and in doing acts as a commentary on the events which led to that inner self’s disappearance in the first place. Directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller have already more than proven themselves with their previous cult smash-hits 21 Jump Street and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, yet LEGO feels like the natural destination of their career, the point at which they can be recognised as undisputed cinematic pioneers whose influence upon the industry in the coming years could be nothing short of monumental. If this is what the pair have up their sleeves in the opening months of 2014, then one can only begin to speculate what treats their Summer sequel 22 Jump Street has in store- regardless, their impending live-action comedy follow-up has a lot to live up to if it hopes to come close to matching the broad appeal and unparalleled hilarity of what's been presented here.
As with so many of the great animated films of old, LEGO's appeal lies in its all-too-deceptively simple premise, involving protagonist Emmett (Chris Pratt)'s formative journey from his life as an indoctrinated citizen of Bricksburg (yes, really!) to his fulfilment of his prophecised destiny as the world-saving 'Special'. Aiding him on this frequently-diverted quest are the noticably more courageous heroine Wyldstyle (brought to life with marvellous vigour by Pitch Perfect's Elizabeth Banks), her incumbent boyfriend Batman (who receives perhaps his most hilariously misguided portrayal from Arrested Development's Will Arnett) and the Tiresias-esque blind sightseer Vitruvius (played by Morgan Freeman- need we see more), along with a host of famed mini-figures ripped from throughout the titular brand's eventful timeline who we shan't spoil here for fear of diminishing the grand impact of their shock appearances. While Pratt, Banks, Arnett, Freeman, Will Ferrell and Liam Neeson's vocal contributions are all stellar, ultimately it's those aforementioned cross-generational cameo characters who are arguably the true stars of the show, though not in such a manner that warps the film's tone to convey a kind of shameless commercialism or a prolonged marketing skit.
A comparison that frequently came to mind for this reviewer was between Warner Brothers' latest and greatest animated production and Walt Disney Pictures' classic Toy Story trilogy. The latter could initially have been perceived as little more than a promotional tool for children's franchises such as Mr Potato Head, Etch-A-Sketch or the inevitable wave of action figures which spawned soon after its release, and yet anyone who's had the pleasure of experiencing the trio of Pixar masterpieces in their entirety can attest without doubt that each of the three works stray about as far from brand-centric, thematically inconsequential imagery as is possible for the genre. In much the same vein, in spite of its relishing of the plethora of sub-franchises which have elevated the brand to its esteemed status over the years, LEGO is first and foremost a motion picture which presents its audience with the touching message that any one of us can build or become anything that we so desire with the correct amount of self-belief and determination. Such sentiments have provided the thematic backbone for much of the industry's output in this genre and others during the last century or so, but Ford and Miller's representation of the issue at hand will surely outlast their competitors' dramatic impact thanks to the earnest and morally-affirming nature of their succinct yet overtly generous screenplay.
Similarly astounding is its assured visual direction, the likes of which has virtually never been seen in the animated genre's history. LEGO blends its now-traditional CGI elements (which sit up there with the best of 'em, Frozen and Kung Fu Panda 2 included) with a refreshingly unfamiliar stop-motion style of filmmaking that had previously been confined to YouTube and other unofficial social networking mediums. It's an illusion, of course, woven intelligently by minds who probably think alike to the teams behind Avatar and Prometheus, yet the directors' frantic camerawork enables the magic trick to be wholly convincing, certainly enough so that the film's later subversions of this stylistic method don't come at the cost of our respect for the delicacy of the trick itself. As is the case with countless elements of the final product, the great impossibility in referencing its eye-candy highlights comes in the spoiler-filled territory that the references would bring us into: suffice to say, though, that once the flick does get its worldwide release this coming Friday, plot revelations will be littered across the web, begging for your necessary ignorance until such a time when you've managed to uncover its surprises for yourselves and reap the benefits through subsequent passion discussion with peers and forum members (believe this reviewer when he asserts keeping schtum on its major secrets to be one of the most difficult challenges of the days leading up to its launch).
Seasoned readers of On-Screen may have taken note of the fact that this reviewer will always find plenty more to say in a review of an entertainment production which has invoked a raw sense of passion from yours truly in either an awe-inspiring or borderline-catastrophic fashion, the former category of which The LEGO Movie inherits with enviable aplomb. Its cast (both actorial and fictitious) represent a comedy ensemble for the ages, re-defining the genre's merits and the subsequent critical benchmark that future entries will face as they aspire to succeed to the same degree, while its directors exhibit such an enthralling, all-encompassing admiration for arguably the world's most iconic toy brand that it would take a completely franchise-apathetic viewer to leave the auditorium with even a hint of disdain for the film. 12 Years A Slave emerged on the Film of the Year candidate scene just days into 2014, and barely a month on from its release, Steve McQueen's historical drama already has its fiercest competitor for the crown yet. Can The LEGO Movie match Toy Story 3 along with the genre's other defining moments, then? Yes. Can it rekindle the thrill of placing brick atop brick, structure atop structure, which so many of us had thought to be stolen by successive generations? Never has it been such an unashamed honour, such an unexpected joy, to respond in the affirmative.
5/5
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