The Smurfs 2 review: a smurfeit of Smurfs
I am haunted by the crazed desperation in Jayma Mays’s eyes. She may have been blinking out a Morse-code SOS, but I can’t be sure…
I’m “biast” (con): *sob*
(what is this about? see my critic’s minifesto)
And so we must come to terms with a veritable cacophony of influences at cinematic war with one another. The puissant Old Testament dirge of Woman as Evil without the civilizing influence of Man, as represented by Smurfette and her fear that she may revert to her natural state as a construct of Gargamel, whom we may in this instance read as Satan, despite the paternal ministrations of Papa Smurf, with his Yahweh-esque white beard. The astonishing celebration of the beneficence of privilege — so daring in our Occupy times! — in the depiction of a wealthy young New York family with the resources to fly to Paris on the spur of the moment and stay in a luxury hotel, all in the aid of a blue (read: “colored”) underclass. The startling structure of the storytelling, which all but puts the dialogue “This way to the next plot point” into the mouths of the actors, as if challenging the contextual necessity of a willing suspension of disbelief and highlighting the very artificiality of film itself. The demand– nay, the dare presented to us that we may well place our sympathies with Gargamel by creating profoundly irritating “heroes” in the Smurfs and then constructing a scheme for its “villain” that “could be the end of all Smurfkind!” should it succeed. Such subversiveness! To upend a natural cinematic order as it simultaneously makes us aware of that order is an audacious and even majestic–
No! I can’t do it. I just can’t! It’s not keeping me from being haunted by the crazed desperation in Jayma Mays’s eyes in her every scene. She may have been blinking out a Morse-code SOS, but I can’t be sure — curse my lack of military training! It’s not making me forget the dispirited resignation sloughing off Neil Patrick Harris. It can’t make me ignore my hopeless hope that whatever psychotropic drugs they have Hank Azaria on also deaden his pain.
It doesn’t make me stop worrying about how I cannot explain the presence of Brendan Gleeson here at all.
*sob*
please help keep truly independent film criticism alive!
Pledge your support now at Patreon or Substack.
When you purchase or rent almost anything from Amazon US, Amazon Canada, Amazon UK, and iTunes (globally), you help support my work at Flick Filosopher. Please use my links when you’re shopping at either service. Thank you!
watch at home
US/Can release: Jul 31 2013
UK/Ire release: Jul 31 2013
Flick Filosopher Real Rating: rated WTS: what the smurf?!
MPAA: rated PG for some rude humor and action
BBFC: rated U (contains mild slapstick violence and very mild language)
viewed in 3D
viewed at a private screening with an audience of critics
official site | IMDb | trailer
more reviews: Movie Review Query Engine | Rotten Tomatoes
2013 theatrical releases | adventure | animation | comedy | family/kids | fantasy | reviews
If you’re tempted to post a comment that resembles anything on the film review comment bingo card, please reconsider.
subscribe to support!
(If you prefer to make a one-time donation, you can PayPal me. But you’ll miss out on the Patreon/Substack bonuses.)
FlickFilosopher.com does not accept guest posts, link placements, or sponsored content.
get the weekly digest email
follow
SF/F/F flash fiction by me!
shop to support
As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.
Amazon and the Amazon logo are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc. or its affiliates.
FlickFilosopher.com does not accept guest posts, link placements, or sponsored content.
