The Ricky Gervais Show.

 The Pitch – Ricky Gervais and podcast compatriots Steve Merchant and Karl Pilkington, as animated characters, narrating both their own existences and (mostly Karl’s) bizarre musings on Life, The Universe and Everything. The gestation of this, not entirely original concept, came from Gervais’ growing awareness that fans of his ground-breaking podcast were setting their pointless conversations to animation – often nothing sophisticated, but nevertheless very funny. It’s encouraging to see the internet acknowledged as a breeding ground of innovative ideas like this. One very good example of a similar set-up online is the extremely popular Spill.com  - as a film buff, I worship at their altar.

Gervais,  Merchant and Pilkington’s exploits are ideally suited to the form, the trio being both very good storytellers and not remotely precious about the whole affair. They do engage in weighty topics, such as science, homelessness and sexuality, but more through the lens of the odd instances that have peppered their lives. Karl, the unconventional thinker and real star of the show, frequently tells stories, wherein he coasts through life puzzled by perceived inconsistencies that most of us would struggle to appreciate. Inconsistencies such as why certain animals, that appear to him to serve no purpose aren’t “got rid of” to make room for more useful animals (some, such as insect-human hybrids, are of his own design…) He, along with the equally funny, and somewhat more on- planet-earth Gervais and Merchant, also recounts strange anecdotes and frustrations from childhood to adulthood. Merchant is an interesting figure here, because whilst an undeniable success, he is hugely self-deprecating and regales his colleagues and the audience with stories of his failures in romance and insecurity over his unconventional looks – something over which Pilkington and Gervais make no attempt to reassure him.

Gervais himself is the ringleader. Both him and Merchant goad Karl into revealing more of his outlook on life, over which Gervais takes unadulterated glee. Though he can occasionally seem aggressively brash and opinionated, his affection for his friends is clear; this is very much a passion project and Gervais obviously loves nothing more than the company of these two rather odd men.

The Hanna-Barbera style animation is superlative; the comic timing and visual gags layered over the dialogue are hugely memorable, without any uncomfortable stylistic jarring with the humour of the original podcasts. It also creates the worlds that the trio so artfully recount beautifully – you really get a sense that the animators love the universe that they’ve been given to play with, with characters described in previous anecdotes making background cameos and call backs to previous jokes that hard core fans will really appreciate.

All in all, the Ricky Gervais Show is laugh out loud funny, beautiful to look at and, surprisingly, rather sweet.

MULAN

The pitch – boy-meets-girl, boy-gives-girl-black-eye, is vintage Disney-fare, as we all know. Okay, maybe more like vintage Nicholas Cage-fare, but I digress. The point is, despite, or perhaps because it strays somewhat from the norm, I really, really like it. Alot of people don’t really “get” Mulan – popular opinion being, that in terms of the Disney-Renaissance, it’s somewhere between that jewel in Disney’s crown, Beauty and the Beast and that shit in a bag on Disney’s doorstep, Home on the Range. I would say this is wholly inaccurate – because whilst Mulan shares too many fairy-tale trappings to not be considered classic Disney, the result is something entirely different and - particularly for young women, quite exciting.

Mulan’s MO, is not to find a man. Neither was Belle’s, to be fair, but she still sings about a Prince Charming that exists between the pages of a novel, with an undisguised thrill of hope. Mulan, during her opening sequence, fumbles her way through preparing for and meeting with the Match-Maker, in a wholly unromantic scene, designed to test her little-wife skills to a finite degree. Which brings me to my next point; When I say Mulan fumbles her way through this, I’m not kidding. She turns up late, with straw in her hair and ala Arnold Rimmer, her arms daubed in her own revision. Mulan is socially awkward and clumsy – Belle may have been lauded for being a free spirit, but her moral compass, poise and intelligence, were of an impossible standard. In Mulan, we finally have a Disney heroine just like us.

When Mulan, in a stunning, calmly defiant sequence, chops off her hair, dons her elderly father’s armour and goes to war in his place, it is to save his life. It is her choice and an entirely selfless act that has nothing to do with any desire for a romantic life. And when she arrives, we have scenes of elation and triumph, such as the final frames of “Be a Man” and refreshingly, scenes were the female ingénue is the centre of the comedy. Okay, she’s surrounded with funny characters, namely her three boorish, but good-hearted best friends, but her desperate and misjudged attempts to hide her femininity are extremely funny and once again, wonderfully, mercifully human. 

Given the film’s running time, it’s admirable that Mulan is not a success at the training camp right away, as though in life, having the opportunity to prove yourself you’ve always longed for, always goes the way you expect. And Mulan earns her stripes, and our respect, by trying again and again, despite a number of mishaps, due to her own gaucheness and lack of physical prowess. When she does eventually triumph, first by winning the respect of her fellow soldiers and later the war itself, it feels legit and ultimately, more joyous.

The romance with her captain (remember? That guy that punched her in the face? Though this was during fight training, I hasten to add) could feel perfunctory, but luckily the film is smart enough to stray from melodrama. The two, quite rightly, don’t share much screen time, because this really isn’t his story - and as such, they don’t share a kiss, either. Rather, he quietly matures enough to realise that he’d rather a woman with a bit of bite, than the demure, delicate little thing he’d presumably always thought he wanted. The result is rather sweet and the film ends on a quiet, domestic moment, in contrast to the previous scene, wherein a grateful China bows at a humble and astonished Mulan’s feet. It’s victorious and simple all at once and we leave feeling that we could have that too. That it’s within our reach.