The Adventures of Tintin | Film review

 

From his second feature—the blockbuster 1975 thriller, Jaws—through a litany of beloved movies that made him a Gen X household demi-god—Close Encounters of the Third Kind, the Indiana Jones series, E.T. and Jurassic Park, to name a few—Steven Spielberg has had a smashingly successful career. But it's no secret that his exciting storytelling is often formulaic, enough so that at least one website offers step-by-step instructions on how to make a Steven Spielberg film. (Hint: Craft a three-act story featuring a goal-driven childlike protagonist who encounters a powerful villain that he—always he—must overcome.) Not surprising, the basic plot structure of The Adventures of Tintin is more or less the same as a dozen other Spielberg flicks. Indeed, were it not filmed in performance-capture animation (in the style of The Polar Express, but so much better), this film could easily be mistaken for an Indiana Jones sequel. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't see it; on the contrary, it's the very reason you'll probably love it.

We meet Tintin (Jamie Bell)—a fresh-faced journalist (childlike protagonist, check!)—as he buys an antique model of The Unicorn (a sailing ship) at an outdoor market. There's a pickpocket milling about (identified by Tintin's very intelligent dog, Snowy, who's perhaps the inspiration for Inspector Gadget's canine companion, Brain). Two other unsavory characters approach Tintin with offers to buy his recently purchased treasure for much more than he spent. He declines, of course, amid foreshadowing that he'll be sorry.

Tintin brings the ship home, installs it in his living room, then goes off to the library—where all good investigative journalists spent many hours in the 1940s, the era of these original stories from the Tintin comic-book series by Belgian cartoonist Hergé. Spielberg's film amalgamates three different adventures: The Crab with the Golden Claws (1941), The Secret of the Unicorn (1943) and Red Rackham's Treasure (1944); for decades, the Tintin series has remained popular in Europe (so much so, the film opened there two months ago). The comics were an early influence on Peter Jackson, the genius behind The Lord of the Rings movies and now Tintin producer. Crucially, Jackson's Weta Digital company provides the motion-capture tech that makes this film click. (Anyone who's seen the film adaptation of the famous Tolkien trilogy knows how much better Gollum looks compared to anything in Polar Express.)

Arriving home, Tintin discovers that his apartment has been ransacked and—quelle surprise!—the model ship has been stolen. From that point on, the rollicking plot involves plenty of action, including a partnership with the last remaining member of the Haddock family (an unfortunate alcoholic captain, voiced by Andy Serkis), a battle with a wannabe pirate (the last remaining ancestor of Red Rackham, voiced by Daniel Craig) and a harrowing flight across the desert—not to mention being kidnapped and shipwrecked. The patented (super)hero formula applies: Tintin escapes swift and certain danger, outwits "bad" guys and uses intellect to solve the deepest of mysteries. The only thing lacking is the standard pulp trope of a distressed damsel. No worries, though: The ending leaves ample room for a sequel, and Tintin is yet a young man.

Supporting our hero are the "twin" Inspector Thompsons (both voiced by Simon Pegg), as adorable as they are recognizable and ditzy. My nine-year-old son knew more about Tintin than I beforehand, because of an Amazing Race episode requiring partners to dress up as the inspectors and find Tintin to receive their next clue. But even if you've missed that pop-culture introduction to the pair, you'll find them comforting and quirky—rounder and more lovable versions of Charlie Chaplin.

At 107 minutes, the film is a pleasant length, though its pace is quite frenetic at times. I was reminded at times of Dr. William Sears' telling the story—in The Baby Book—of Olympic athlete Jim Thorpe, who reportedly tried to keep pace with a toddler and grew tired after only four hours. Here, Tintin is definitely the toddler, and while Haddock the alcoholic isn't quite an Olympic athlete, the audience sympathizes with the elder.

One possible concern to parents: There's a lot of gun play and violence, and Tintin himself brandishes a pistol several times. We even see a massacre-by-Tommy-gun (leaving several bullet holes in Tintin's front door). If this were a live-action film, it likely would have received a higher rating than PG (for violence and gore, mild profanity and smoking). As it stands, expect to hear questions from inquisitive kids—especially those who have been warned of the dangers of weaponry. Meanwhile, Haddock's constant drinking—including an entire plot point devoted to him being "sober" and needing to drink to restore his memory—is something parents will likely have to explain as well, as probably not many younger kids will know what being sober or drunk means or how it relates to the story.

Ultimately, The Adventures of Tintin works because Spielberg gives us exactly what we expect: plot-driven action adventure; clear distinctions between good and evil; superb technical effects (there are times the animated figures seem almost entirely human, invoking a S1m0ne-like reaction from the audience); and clues that are easy to follow but not so easy we grow bored. Beyond concerns about violence and alcoholism, the only thing viewers might sniff at is—well, all the enormous noses. Every single character save Tintin has one. It's as though W.C. Fields had populated Belgium with his proboscis-blessed progeny.

The bottom line: See it for what it is. Enjoy the prospect of an adventure story told in a different format with a character largely unknown to U.S. audiences, and do your best to ignore the bulbous noses coming at you.