The annoying thing about Disneys PLANES is that it takes a full hour before it, ahem, revs up. For all the imagination involved in breathing animated life into the anthropomorphized eponymous flying machines, and their truck and forklift pals, the story is painfully rote, taking the cliché underdog, or in this case, underplane, and putting him through his paces against competitors that are out of his league.
The ci-mentioned underplane is Dusty, an optimistic crop duster by design and by trade, who dreams of racing in the Wings around the World plane rally. Never mind that hes never been outside of Lincoln, NE. Never mind that his design is less than aerodynamic. Never mind that hes afraid of heights. Hes got some slick moves, and a crazy dream, and in the world of mid-level animated storytelling, thats enough. Hes also got a best pal, Chug, a fuel truck with a manual on flying in a race, and a forklift, Dottie, who doesnt approve, but is still willing to kluge Dustys torque enough to get him in the race. He also needs a coach, though, and the only one with the proper skill set is Skipper, a crotchety Corsair from WWII, grounded and demanding to be left alone. Of course Dusty will win him over with his determination and good heart (torque).
In due course and quick succession, Dusty attends the regional qualifying trials, is mocked and gets over it. He arrives at the races start, and is mocked. He whips through the first leg, and is, you guessed it mocked. His adventures take him to Iceland, Germany, India, Nepal, China, and Mexico, but there is little time for sightseeing, aside from a puckish stopover in Nepal that finds the forklifts there perfectly credible as Buddhist monks, and learning that tractors are sacred in India. There is more emphasis on his competitors as they show their true colors, and he is befriended, almost against his will, by La Chupacabra (a suitably exuberant Carlos Alasraqui, the Mexican entrant with a melodramatic style, a flowing cape, and a passion for a comely Canadian plane that nothing can quell.
Its not that the characters are of the stock variety, its that they are also a near-perfect copy of the ones found in CARS. Even the voice work, though most of the actors are different, evoke that Pixar film, Dane Cook as Dusty sounding very like Owen Wilson in the analogous role, Stacy Keach as Skipper, the crusty Corsair counterpart to Paul Newmans finned, sky-blue Cadillac. Not that Cook and Keach dont do fine work, they do, particularly Cook who evinces more subtlety than the script requires, but a disservice to have it undercut by the correspondence. Brad Garretts Chug, however, is new, and suitably dense, sweet, and plucky, as is Terry Hatchers Dottie, who is sharp and tart, but with equal pluck. Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, also from CARS, goes in a different direction as the unwilling object of La Chupacabras affections, and there is, of course, no going wrong with John Cleese as a stuffy Brit. Oddly adequate and little more is Roger Craig Smith as Dustys antagonist, the champion Ripslinger, odd because the actor has been the voice of indelible characters the gaming franchises Assassins Creed and Resident Evil.
And then, unaccountably, blessedly, surprisingly, the story, ahem, takes off, which makes the closing promise of a sequel less unsettling. During the trans-Pacific leg of the race, the action becomes tense, as Dusty is sabotaged and left to contend with massive waves during a typhoon. The directing becomes as animated as the characters, and the story takes a turn for the unexpected. Not overly unexpected, but enough to give the characters a little more depth, and the plot to become a scooch more sophisticated.
PLANES is a cheery little exercise in animated filmmaking, but one that is safe and soft around the edges. We expect more at this point.
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