![]() The film has been angled to Lion King zealots: it’s a lavish excuse to experience it again, if not, alas, afresh. Not even ace cinematographer Caleb Deschanel, working with tools that empower him to navigate and light a virtual set as if it were a location, can provide Favreau’s production and Jeff Nathanson’s script with the ingredient they so desperately need: a novel, vital concept. Unfortunately, from mandrill Rafiki introducing Baby Simba (JD McCrary) to the gathered herds and flocks, to Rafiki and Adult Simba (Donald Glover) presenting his infant son to the same animal kingdom, there’s a been-there, sung-that feeling to the would-be bedazzlement. ![]() This prosaic wizardry might still be impressive if there were conviction or originality behind the scene-making. It supposedly enabled them to inhabit characters from claws to mane, so the digital attendants could meld their human demeanor to the correct mammal postures, but in effect they come off as zoo specimens with intermittent flickers of anthropomorphic personality. As we’ve learned from advance publicity (and the kind of press that might as well be publicity), Favreau directed his voice actors as real performers on a black-box-theater soundstage rather than as speakers at a music stand. Even as a cub, Simba speaks effortlessly, with each facial muscle making its own micro-adjustment to every attempt at humor or poignancy. Lip motion may be the main thing we remember about Jon Favreau’s dutiful remake of The Lion King. When we think of George Miller’s glorious Babe diptych, do we immediately recall how the hero’s mouth moved? No, that’s the last thing we think about because our memories are awash in the director’s robust comic vision of an empathetic young pig bringing city and country together via his Lancelot-like courage and purity of heart. Images from The Lion King (Jon Favreau, 2019)
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