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Review: Unnecessary 'Mufasa' shows the Lion King franchise to be running out of lives

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Review: Unnecessary 'Mufasa' shows the Lion King franchise to be running out of lives

Barry Jenkins signing on to direct a spin-off to “The Lion King” sounds like a joke you’d crack after “Moonlight” won the Oscar for best picture, less at the filmmaker’s expense than at an industry that’s gotten cagey about funding his kind of heart-driven talent. In the ’90s, Hollywood might have handed him its checkbook. This decade, though, just getting a big movie green-lit takes a cat fight. “Mufasa: The Lion King,” from a script by Jeff Nathanson, has taken up a substantial amount of Jenkins’ bandwidth — it was first announced in 2020. You stalk the film trying to find him in it, but there’s not much more than an ethereal interlude in which three lions flirt in the grass.

This is a guaranteed blockbuster that nobody needed except studio accountants and parents. I’ll accept it on those terms because it’s a good thing when any kid-pleaser gets children in the habit of going to the movie theater. Yes, it’s easy and necessary to mock Disney for squeezing every last drop out of a franchise. Heck, Disney’s even learned that it can be lucrative to make fun of itself, which happens here when one animal groans, “Please don’t mention the play again.” And now, the company’s zeal for prequels has resulted in a movie about two kittens who we’ve all seen meet a grisly death. To my morbid delight, “Mufasa” starts off by killing one of them again.

The framing device is that Simba and Nala (Donald Glover and Beyoncé Knowles-Carter) have handed their daughter cub, Kiara (Blue Ivy Carter), to three familiar babysitters: Pumbaa the warthog (Seth Rogen), Timon the meerkat (Billy Eichner) and Rafiki the psychic mandrill (John Kani), who insists repeatedly that he is not a baboon. Rafiki recounts the origin story of Kiara’s grandfather while, at a cadence that ticks like a nervous executive’s pacemaker, Pumbaa and Timon interrupt for atonal comic relief: “Less childhood trauma, more meerkat!” Timon wails.

Mostly, we’re roaming Tanzania with an orphaned whelp named Mufasa (voiced in his youth by Braelyn and Brielle Rankins, and in his prime by Aaron Pierre) and his adopted brother Taka (Theo Somolu and later Kelvin Harrison Jr.), who hails from a royal lineage. My quibble with the original “Lion King” and its 2019 remake is that Simba is a one-note brat. Mufasa is even worse — he’s flat-out flawless — and the other characters can’t resist commenting on it. “You are the lion who can do everything,” purrs one female in heat (Tiffany Boone). That’s no exaggeration. Among his innate gifts, Mufasa proves to be an expert in elephant migration patterns and botany.

To further the hagiography, the script flubs its own plot points. Early on, there’s a fight where, apparently, Mufasa murders an unnamed lion. Except you wouldn’t know that happened from anything onscreen until a follow-up beat where the dead lion’s father, Kiros (Mads Mikkelsen), learns that his child died of his injuries at some point between scenes. Kiros’ quest for vengeance is a through-line of the film, and the kill is Mufasa’s first blood (though it won’t be his last). Yet the moral impact doesn’t seem to occur to our noble hero at all.

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The line readings are flat-footed. Mufasa and most of the other lions sound like theme-park animatronics with voices set to “Soothe.” Adding to the homogeneity, the core characters — and I’m referring to a half-dozen-plus beasts here — share the same backstory: They miss their families. The daddy/mommy/brother issues become so repetitive that it’s a relief when Zazu (Preston Nyman) the hornbill never mentions a long-lost egg.

Taka, the more cowardly lion, will eventually earn a name that isn’t going to surprise anybody. The bigger jaw-dropper is: Why wasn’t this movie pitched as “Scar”? This innately good-hearted princeling is the only compelling character. From his point of view, Taka can make a legitimate case that a golden god like Mufasa is exasperating to be around — this stray has literally destroyed his pride. Plus, Taka’s voice actors, Somolu and Harrison Jr., deliver dynamic performances with mercurial emotions and a delightful Cockney accent. During the song, “I Always Wanted a Brother,” the photorealistic lion croons about his “bruvaah” with the surreal gusto of Growltiger in “Cats.”

The subtlest animation looks the best, especially when sunlight dapples upon fur or felines flex their claws to assert power. (I write this while struggling to keep a 20-pound Maine Coon off my desk.) There are opportunities for dreamlike images: a flock of birds zooming like warplanes, a herd of antelope emerging from a horror-movie mist, and an unexpected amount of gorgeous and terrifying swimming sequences as these so-called kings of the jungle are continually bested by gravity and water. Occasionally, the look goes gonzo for viewers watching the movie in 3D. Think a slow-motion raindrop hurtling toward your face, or shots of the animals racing around like they’ve got a GoPro camera on their collar.

The ending feels similarly rushed, although there’s nothing in particular I’d rather spend more time with than the songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda. The cast belts them at a terrific, breathless, breakneck pace, scaling octaves as demanded. There are only a few numbers, but most of them are marvelous constructions with sinewy arrangements and overlapping harmonies that tangle around each other during duets. Good luck pulling them off at karaoke. But it’s hard to call any one song a showstopper. They aren’t built for bombast, and none are as in-the-moment ear-wormy as “Hakuna Matata,” although there’s a slithery villain’s ditty by Mads Mikkelson that became my favorite once I came around to the lyrics: “Cause I’m gonna be / the last thing you see / before you go / bye-bye.” I still think this prequel didn’t need to exist, but at least I left humming.

‘Mufasa: The Lion King’

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Rated: PG for action/violence, peril and some thematic elements.

Running time: 1 hour, 58 minutes

Playing: In wide release Friday, Dec. 20

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‘Hoppers’ movie review: Big ideas and smart emotional beats fuel a great adventure

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‘Hoppers’ movie review: Big ideas and smart emotional beats fuel a great adventure

In cinema logic, sharks, especially great whites, make excellent characters in animation. From Bruce in Finding Nemo to Mr Shark, the master of disguise in The Bad Guys, these apex predators turn their great gummy mouths with many pointy teeth into jolly good fellows.

In Hoppers, the 30th animation film from Pixar, there is a great white called Diane (Vanessa Bayer), who, despite being a scary assassin, has such sweet, shining eyes and a warm smile that one cannot help but grinning back.

Hoppers (English)

Director: Daniel Chong

Voice cast: Piper Curda, Bobby Moynihan, Jon Hamm, Kathy Najimy, Dave Franco

Storyline: A fierce animal lover uses a new technology to converse with animals and save their habitat from greedy, self-serving humans

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Runtime: 104 minutes

We first meet Mabel (Piper Curda) as a little girl trying to set all the animals in school free and being sent home for her pains (and also because she bites one of the teachers trying to stop her). Her busy mother drops Mabel with her grandmother (Karen Huie) who shows her the peace and quiet that can be hers if she only stops to listen.

The glade where grandmother Tanaka teaches her this valuable life lesson becomes a special place for Mabel. Years later, after her grandmother has passed, 19-year-old Mabel is a college student and still fighting for animal rights.

Matters come to a head when the mayor of Beaverton, Jerry Generazzo (Jon Hamm) plans to blow up the glade to build a freeway. Mabel tries to get signatures from the citizenry to stop the freeway plans, but that comes to naught as people quickly turn away from the zealous Mabel.

Frustrated, with no recourse in sight, Mabel chances upon a beaver making its way to her university’s biology lab. First worried that her biology professor Sam (Kathy Najimy) is doing some unspeakable animal experiments, Mabel is nonplussed to find that Sam, with her colleague Nisha (Aparna Nancherla) and graduate student Conner (Sam Richardson), have developed a revolutionary technology to transfer human consciousness to robot animal.

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Mabel uploads her consciousness into a robot beaver and sets off to thwart the mayor. Seeing the world from the animals’ perspective gives Mabel a unique point of view. Hoppers has jokes, chases, largeness of heart and solid science — not consciousness-switching with robot animals or flying shark assassins but the fact that beavers are the environmental engineers of the natural world.

The voice cast is wonderful, from Bobby Moynihan as the beaver king, George to Dave Franco as Titus, the prickly butterfly who becomes the insect king after Mabel accidentally kills his mum — the Insect Queen, played with terrifying grandeur by Meryl Streep.

The animals are delightfully delineated, from the spaced-out beaver, Loaf (Eduardo Franco) to Ellen (Melissa Villaseñor) the grumpy bear. The animation is lovely, with each of the animal and human characteristics clearly outlined. From the mayor’s grasping to Sam’s brilliance, Mabel’s fervour to Loaf’s stillness, and the different animal monarchs’ regality, it is all given marvellous life.

ALSO READ: ‘The Bride!’ movie review: Maggie Gyllenhaal’s glam-goth Frankenstein can’t hold its stitches

The “pond rules” ensure that the animals are not completely anthropomorphised — a sticky point in animation films where carnivores and herbivores hang together without even a sneaky licking of lips!

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Smart, funny, exciting, honest, and touching, Hoppers is the kind of film you can watch with the bachcha party and elders alike, with a happy grin. And then there is Diane of the red, red lips and sparkly white rotating teeth — yes, Hoppers boasts that level of detailing.

Hoppers is currently running in theatres

Published – March 06, 2026 07:08 pm IST

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Commentary: From late-night TV to viral memes, Kristi Noem was the gag that kept on giving. What now?

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Commentary: From late-night TV to viral memes, Kristi Noem was the gag that kept on giving. What now?

A moment of silence for all the comedians, late-night-show writers, political satirists, memers, animators and random influencers who just lost a wealth of inspiration.

Kristi Noem, Homeland Security secretary, was fired Thursday by President Trump, ending the 13-month tenure of a political figure whose bravado, cruelty, incompetence and commando cosplay inspired more wickedly funny material than Dick Cheney, Sarah Palin and Sean Spicer combined.

Social media’s so-called ICE Barbie, the first Cabinet secretary to leave the Trump administration during the president’s second term, was a font of material for “South Park,” “SNL,” late night and thousands more sketch artists, impersonators, musicians and everyday trash posters. She never disappointed, unless you were looking to her for feasible, humane immigration policy enforcement.

Former Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem.

(Julia Demaree Nikhinson / Associated Press)

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Drama and spectacle marked her brief career, from posing in front of a packed holding cell at El Salvador’s maximum security prison CECOT, where the DHS had shipped and detained deportees, to casting herself as an agent of action in multiple ICE raid videos. Donning a big gun and long, flowing locks of hair, she insinuated herself into operations, vamping for the camera in a bulletproof vest while masked agents rounded up fellow humans like cattle.

Grim, to be sure, but at least she contributed a shred of comic relief (unintended, of course) to our new, sad reality of federal agents invading American cities and abducting people off the streets, out of their cars and from their homes.

“South Park” skewered Noem in unprintable ways. “SNL” brought back Tina Fey to play Noem. Dressed in a lavender pantsuit, too much makeup and brandishing a massive firearm, she introduced herself as “the rarest type of person in Washington, D.C.: a brunette that Donald Trump listens to.”

The endless stream of memes across social media date back to 2024, when in her memoir Noem recalled shooting and killing her 14‑month‑old dog, a wirehaired pointer named Cricket, after deciding the dog was “untrainable.” Gov. Gavin Newsom later trolled the DHS and Noem with a meme captioned “Kristi Noem’s Dog Obedience School: She’ll Treat Them As Good As She Treats Brown People.” The mock ad featured a smiling woman holding a gun and kneeling beside a dog.

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If it seems cruel, consider that the DHS posted holiday-themed deportation memes around Christmas, proclaiming that federal agents were stepping up removals “for the holidays,” with a “holiday deal” offering a free flight and $1,000 to those who self-deport. One X post featured an AI-generated image of federal agents in Santa hats with the caption, “YOU’RE GOING HO HO HOME.”

Noem’s dismissal comes on the heels of two congressional hearings this week where she was questioned about her response to the ICE killings of U.S. citizens Renee Good and Alex Pretti in Minneapolis (she incorrectly called Good a domestic terrorist and claimed Pretti was involved in an act of domestic terrorism). She was grilled about the department spending $172 million for the purchase of two jets, the nature of her relationship with top DHS adviser Corey Lewandowski, and her $220-million DHS ad campaign starring none other than Kristi Noem. She testified in the hearings that Trump approved the ads. He said he knew nothing about them.

Her firing triggered an immediate rush of snarky content across social media, and a sharp a comment or two from prominent politicians. “Shouldn’t let the door hit her on the way out,” said Illinois Democratic Gov. JB Pritzker.

But all is not lost for those needing a laugh at Noem’s expense, or at the expense of the DHS, for that matter. The president said Thursday that Noem would take on a new, freshly invented role: Envoy for The Shield of the Americas. He described the position as one that will lead “our new Security Initiative in the Western Hemisphere.” The job title and description already sound like the basis for a villainous political satire, without even trying.

And for the new guy taking the post? He’s Sen. Markwayne Mullin (R-Okla.), a former MMA fighter. Let the memes begin …

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Is ‘Josie and the Pussycats’ (2001) Really Even A Rock N Roll Movie? (FILM REVIEW) – Glide Magazine

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Is ‘Josie and the Pussycats’ (2001) Really Even A Rock N Roll Movie? (FILM REVIEW) – Glide Magazine

The satirical romp Josie and the Pussycats (2001) is a fun movie. But is it a great rock ‘n’ roll movie?
Eh, not so fast on that second one. Welcome back to Glide’s quest for what makes a good rock ‘n’ roll movie. Last month, we looked at Almost Famous, a great launching pad because it gets so much right. And every first Friday, we’ll take another look at a rock ‘n’ movie and ask what it means in the larger pantheon. This month, the Glide’s screening room brings you Josie and the Pussycahttps://glidemagazine.com/322100/almost-perfect-why-almost-famous-sets-the-gold-standard-for-rock-movies/ts. The film is a live-action take on the classic comic-and-cartoon property of a sugary, all-girl rock trio that exists in the world of Riverdale, a.k.a. fictional home of the iconic Archie Andrews.

But this Josie has next to nothing to do with Riverdale and is instead a satire of consumerism and ’00s boy bands. A worthy target, and a topic that has stayed worthy in the quarter-century since Josie dropped. The film was not a hit, but it has become something of a cult classic (like many movies featured in this series).

The plot is fairly simple. Wyatt Frame, an evil corporate type, is making piles of money off boy band Du Jour. They start to wise up to his evil scheme and have to be… taken care of. Frame needs a new group to front his plot, which revolves around mind control to push consumer culture. Enter Josie and the Pussycats, who are about to have a whirlwind ride to the top. And along the way, foil a plot with tentacles so far-reaching they have ensnared… Carson Daly?

Josie is a fun, clever movie, but it doesn’t have a whole lot to say about real rock ‘n’ roll, unless you want to simply accept a perspective that it’s just another cynical consumer-driven product. Even that is an argument that can be made, as long as you’re willing to ignore underground and indie scenes and passionate artists making amazing music.

And it is true that this is a theme of Josie. The band triumphs at the end via their authentic music. But it somehow doesn’t feel authentic, which makes it something of a hollow victory. Let’s consider the criteria already established for a good rock ‘n’ roll movie, and how Josie delivers on that front. The first is in the characters department. The film dodges the previously established Buckethead Paradox, which states that “The real-life rock stars are so much larger than life that you can’t make up credible fictional versions. There is no way someone like Buckethead would come out of a writer’s room and make it to a screen.”

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For better or worse, Josie dodges the Paradox by essentially embracing it. The characters themselves are cartoons, and there’s no effort at realism. Given that intent is a huge part of art, it seems unfair to call these characters “cartoons” as a criticism, and it should probably be a compliment. At the same time, they aren’t particularly memorable, which is not a great quality.

And—as a bonus—Tara Reid is perfectly cast as drummer Melody Valentine. Josie was a few years after her turn in Around the Fire (1998), an unintentionally hilarious classic that plays like a jam band afterschool special from the producers of Reefer Madness (look for this amazing film in an upcoming piece).
The acting in general is good, with Rachel Leigh Cook as Josie McCoy and Rosario Dawson as bassist Valerie Brown rounding out the band. And Alan Cumming almost steals the show as sleazy corporate weasel Wyatt Frame.

The character of Wyatt is the film’s funniest riff on a rock ‘n’ roll archetype: the sleazy, corporate manager accompanied by assorted crooked accountants. From Colonel Tom Parker to Albert Grossman to The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle. It’s all about the benjamins. Which is where the music comes in. If the music is good, that’s what makes it worth it. And Josie’s music has aged particularly well. It’s well-recorded, produced and executed. The songs are particularly catchy. The vocals are by Kay Hanley of Letters to Cleo. Much of the soundtrack sounds like a lost album from The Muffs, and one wonders why Kim Shattuck wasn’t involved.

There’s an argument that power pop was never supposed to be dangerous, and that the Muffs aren’t dangerous either. Fair on the surface, but they played real punk clubs and came from a real scene. There’s not even a hint of that in Josie. So an argument that they play pop punk (which they kinda do) is really lacking the punk part.
And it was produced by Babyface, of all people. While that doesn’t seem like it should lead to great rock ‘n’ roll, sometimes preconceptions are wrong.

That said, this is a very commercial product and sound—as catchy as it is—so maybe it’s not a misconception. Maybe the right question to ask is whether it’s all too perfect? And that’s what gives this ostensibly rock ‘n’ film a smoothed-down edge? After all, the basic ingredients are there. But part of what makes good rock good is that it feels actually dangerous. Maybe there are some actual subversive messages, or a genuine counterculture scene. And Josie simply isn’t that film. The soundtrack is fondly remembered enough that Hanley appeared live and performed the songs at a screening in 2017. That appearance also included the film’s stars Cook, Dawson and Reid.

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It’s worth noting that while Cook and company obviously lip sync to the songs in the film, their performances are credible. They went through instrument boot camp, so they pull off the parts.

In the end, the film is primarily a satire of consumer culture. And even more strangely, is loaded with actual product placement. Clearly, the joke was intended to “hit harder” with real products, but having Target in the film constantly makes it feel like more of what it is parodying than a parody. Where’s the joke if the viewer actually pushes to shop at Target while watching the film? And if the filmmakers actually took money (which they almost certainly did)?

And perhaps that is the lesson for this month: a great rock ‘n’ roll movie needs to have something to say about the larger meaning or culture of the music. And while Josie may have a lot to say about culture in general, and it may say it in a fun and likeable way, it’s just not very rock ‘n’ roll. There’s no grit. Now, does it have some things to say about being in a band? Yes, though they are arguably true of most collaborations.

If someone in a hundred years wanted to understand early 21st century rock, Josie and the Pussycats is a bad choice. It doesn’t show the sweat of a performance or the smell of beer. But it’s a great choice for anyone looking for a light-hearted, fun watch with a great soundtrack. We could all use some sugar in our lives these days.
Join us again next month, when we’ll look at one of the inspirations for Josie, A Hard Day’s Night, the legendary first film from The Beatles

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