Note: As I'm getting
to Big Hero 6 rather late, and I assume most readers have had already had a
chance to see it, this review contains mild spoilers.
Big Hero 6 is a pretty wonderful exercise in turning narrative
familiarity into something genuinely special. On a story level, Big Hero 6 is hardly reinventing the
wheel, mixing a lot of basic family film tropes – an orphaned protagonist, Hiro
Hanada, experiences yet another loss in his life, and in the process of
grieving makes friends and finds a new passion – with a superhero movie 101
structure, where, like Spider-Man or Batman, Hiro is driven at first by
righteous fury, the search for justice against his brother Tadashi’s killer leading
him and his friends to find their higher, superheroic calling. On a basic
storytelling level, there is nothing fresh or challenging to be had here, and
while that has frustrated me in a lot of recent Disney projects – Frozen is as classical (and, frankly,
dull) as Hollywood animation comes, whatever lightweight nods to modernity it makes
(before swiftly abandoning) – a project like Big Hero 6 is an exciting reminder that when true creative passion
is involved, the way a story is told matters so much more than the story
itself. This is honest, imaginative filmmaking from top to bottom, filled to
burst with vibrant characters, unique artwork, and a gentle, goodhearted sense
of spectacle that is as refreshing as it is invigorating. Most importantly, Big Hero 6 is the rare family film to
have a genuine emotional core; its tale of moving on from loss may be nothing
new, but the film is so ripe with pathos, insight, and believable inner-turmoil
that it ultimately packs a pretty major wallop – and has a damn entertaining
time doing so.
Continue reading after the jump...
Indeed, Big Hero 6 manages to simultaneously be one of the most hilarious and affecting films of the year, the kind of combination that can only come from a strong character core. The film is simply filled with great characters, each corner of its story and world inhabited by fully fleshed-out, three-dimensional human beings. Whether a character is on screen for the entire film, like Hiro, or only in short bursts here and there, like his Aunt Cass, nearly every figure in the film registers as a vivid and compelling creation. The relationships between them is even more satisfying. An early exchange between Hiro and Tadashi, in which the older brother earnestly checks on the safety of the younger before berating Hiro for recklessness – which is then, in turn, mimicked by Aunt Cass when she arrives at the police station in the next scene – speaks to the kind of sharply observed character chemistry this film is built on, where the core of a person or a relationship is related economically through simple, meaningful actions.
This creative ethos matters most strongly in illustrating
all the core members of the eponymous team, for while characters like Fred,
GoGo, Wasabi, and Honey Lemon all conform to various familiar archetypes – the dim-witted
buffoon who is more loyal and perceptive than he appears, the angry quiet type
who actually cares deeply, etc. – they are all distinctly rendered, enormously
funny creations. They share extremely effective chemistry with one another, but
they each also possess a clear sense of individuality; their personality traits
fuel their differing scientific passions, those passions become their superhero
personas, and when they all work together towards a larger goal in the end, the
pay-off is exciting because it comes from a well-established foundation of
character.
Yet the great character creation here is undoubtedly the
puffy, lovable, instantly-iconic Baymax who, on the surface, is just another
stereotype of modern animation: the funny, adorable, immensely marketable
sidekick. He fulfills that role with aplomb, of course, but in this case, it
doesn’t feel like a case of reverse engineering from a concrete commercial goal
(which is how I feel about most of these character types these days, including,
much as others love them, the Minions from Despicable
Me). Baymax is his own character, first and foremost, a wonderfully economic
visual design – a pair of eyes with a line between them is his only facial
feature, and yet the character is positively joy-inducing every moment he’s on
screen – with a terrifically endearing, similarly simple vocal performance and
a clear set of personality traits – his unending desire to be friendly and help
others – that fuels his every action.
And that, honestly, is where Big Hero 6 soars most for me. In the early scenes between Hiro and
Tadashi, Baymax’s basic medicinal function is laid out quite clearly, and I
love that, after Tadashi’s death, the entire arc of the film becomes an
extension of Baymax’s programming. He wakes up in Hiro’s room, on a day when
Hiro is at a particularly low point of grieving, and after that initial moment
of recognition and empathy, every part of the story stems from Baymax’s mission
to make Hiro feel better. It’s plenty easy to throw together a story about
someone in mourning, where the ultimate answer to moving past grief lies in
finding something one is passionate about and sharing that passion with friends
and loved ones. On its own, without any deeper consideration about what that
message means, it’s nothing more than a platitude, one that has been sold in
plenty of family films before now. But because Baymax has this robotic instinct
to identify pain and do whatever he can, as compassionately as he can, to help
heal that pain, and because Baymax is the force that gives the plot its
structure – without drawing too much attention to it, the film is constantly
setting up that moment where Hiro will finally say “your service has been
satisfactory” – I found myself responding to this message in ways I often don’t.
While it certainly helps that Hiro is sharply characterized in his own right –
his emotions and instincts feel human at all times, neither oversimplified nor
overwrought – it’s Baymax, and the core foundation of simple compassion he
brings to the movie, that ties all the film’s themes about friendship and
empathy together, and that makes the film’s sentimental nature feel genuine. This
is, quite literally, a story about ‘healing,’ and the complex emotions that go
in to being there for another person, no matter the circumstances – note that
the entire climax is built around Hiro saving his nemesis’ daughter, even as he
cannot ‘fix’ his own loss – and I think there’s a certain brilliance to
literalizing this point so playfully and effectively through a character like
Baymax.
On a technical level, the film is an impressive
accomplishment. While I have some reservations about the physical texture of
the character designs – as is often the case in CGI animation, human figures
look like plastic, detracting from what are otherwise exemplary character
designs – the animation on the whole is beautiful, its unique and colorful
Japanese-esque setting looking a little unlike any other animated film in
recent memory. And when it wants to go for spectacle, this is a film that
delivers beautifully. The action set-pieces are exquisite, of course, smartly
taking a page from the playfully character-centric battles in the live-action
Marvel movies, but it’s the flying sequence with Hiro and Baymax that
enraptured me most. This is, again, an echo of scenes we’ve all seen in other
movies – I thought back most forcefully to How
to Train Your Dragon and the first flight between Hiccup and Toothless, but
the trope goes back further than that – and yet, because of the beauty of the artwork
(look at those sunsets!), and because of how meaningful the moment is in the
relationship between Hiro and Baymax – the flight provides release and catharsis
for Hiro, while also allowing Baymax to realize that this superhero craziness
is what Hiro needs to feel better – the sequence worked 100 percent for me. Awe
was, indeed, inspired.
In this way, Hiro and Baymax’s flight is the film in
microcosm. As familiar as it might seem on the surface, Big Hero 6 is truly inspired where it counts most. Special, even,
for Baymax if nothing else – and there is plenty else here to love. Perhaps
what excites me most about Big Hero 6, and
the huge level of success it has found with audiences, is that it has a true
passion for science – even if most of the ‘science’ we see is largely
fantastical – and encourages children to take an interest in invention and
discovery. It makes intelligence, education, and scientific ambition all look
cool, and that is something we are in desperate need of these days. This is not
only an entertaining film for children, but arguably an important one – and with
plenty to offer people of all other ages as well. Big Hero 6 is a real animated treasure.
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