Winner of several imaginary literary and filmmaking awards.Happy Feet Two is bright, zany, rollicking, and not at all engaging. In fact, so focused is this spectacle of a sequel from Aussie director George Miller on inundating the audience with an incessant barrage of pointless madcap humor and sunny renditions of pop songs performed by tap-dancing penguins that it becomes quite alienating. I kept wanting the movie to give me more personal space.
The film's Oscar-winning predecessor, 2006's Happy Feet, followed the same uncomfortable model, preening shamelessly with its bubblegum pop music covers blended with well-intended but heavy-handed messages about environmental responsibility and 'let's-all-get-along' harmony among all people. It was undeniably weird but ambitious enough to attract a wide swath of supporters. But only the most ardent fan of toe-tapping penguins will likely go along with Happy Feet Two, which offers more of the same without narrative clarity or tonal focus.
While the first film told the story of Mumble (voiced by Elijah Wood), whose unique dancing ability set him apart from the rest of his penguin race, the sequel focuses on the grown-up Mumble's son, Erik (voiced by Ava Acres), who hasn't inherited the Happy Feet gene. He is stuck in a bit of an early-life crisis, living in the shadow of his quick-stepping daddy and unsure if he has a unique gift of his own. His is just one of several bouts with male insecurity that are wrestled with in the film. Mumble himself is questioning his strengths as a father, while spicy sidekick Ramone (voiced by Robin Williams) searches desperately for female companionship, a dazzling "flying penguin" dubbed The Mighty Sven (voiced by Hank Azaria) grapples both with a fear of being eaten and a secret he keeps hidden from the masses, and tiny Will the Krill (voiced by Brad Pitt) yearns to break free from his pack of miniscule crustaceans and live life on a higher rung of the food chain.
That's a lot of disparate story segments for such an ostensibly simple dancing penguin picture, so much that each individual piece distracts from all the others rather than 'working in harmony,' as the movie's moralizing so clearly advocates. The film unfolds like a series of animated shorts about vaguely-connected characters, each episode capped with a cloying dance number. If there is one central "plot," I suppose it involves a glacial shift that segments a large portion of the penguin population, isolating them from both food and their loved ones. But even that often just seems like one in a series of B-stories fighting for attention in a movie afflicted with a case of cinematic ADHD.
Special mention should be made of the film's visual prowess, which is considerable. Miller, working with the teams at Animal Logic and Dr. D Studios, crafts a stunning digital world where the gleam of the snow and fluff of the fur feel startlingly real. The film is bright and beautiful to look at, expressive in every corner of the frame.
That expressiveness extends into the film's high-energy set pieces, which are at least ambitious in terms of scale and choreography. But those dance numbers feel like cheeky music videos, loosely strung together by thin mini-stories about one-dimensional characters. The lack of depth makes the bright and happy dancing feel like empty audience-pandering, and by the end I was more than happy to shuffle my feet straight to the exit.
