Deborah Ross

Fresh and wild | 14 April 2016

Deborah Ross welcomes this dark remake of the animated classic, especially its lack of icky messages about belonging

This Jungle Book is Disney’s remake of its animated classic of 1967, as beloved by all generations thereafter. Warner Bros also has a remake in the pipeline, directed by Andy Serkis, and due for release in 2018, so it looks as though we’ve reached peak Jungle Book remake, although I personally won’t be happy until Quentin Tarantino has a shot: ‘I’ve reached the top, but had to stop and that’s what’s bothering me …mother fucker!’

Many are scornful of these ‘reimaginings’, as they’re called, saying it indicates that Hollywood lacks original ideas. There may be some truth in this, but if we only ever held out for original ideas, we’d never have had Billy Wilder’s Some Like It Hot (a remake of the French film Fanfares of Love) or The Maltese Falcon, which had been adapted twice before, and which no one has ever understood, but is considered a classic all the same. Also, the history of cinema is the history of technology. Sound. Colour. CGI. 3D. So as technology evolves you can, I think, legitimately make the same film, but differently. And there’s no reason why different versions can’t happily coexist. Everyone spiralizes their vegetables now, but it doesn’t mean the carrot as a carrot has ceased to be. This is a roundabout way of saying don’t give me gyp about this Jungle Book, which, as it happens, is immersive and engaging and a success in its own particular way.

This is a live-action/CGI reboot, directed by Jon Favreau (Swingers, Elf, Iron Man Elf!), and even though the 3D glasses pinch, as they always do, it is stunning to look at, and you will marvel. It is wondrously detailed — breathtakingly detailed. You can see every leaf on every tree, every hair on every beast, every pore on every snout, every feather on every bird.

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