Assorted Cheesiness

Just a couple of brief items to note, broadly related to cheese.

This week, I received a Zingerman's Catalog in the mail. For those of you who don't know, Zingerman's is a foodie's dream destination, a small-ish but always-busy deli and store in Ann Arbor, Michigan. They're the people behind Zingerman's Guide to Good Eating, a book I find myself frequently referring to when I shop. I find myself obsessing over their bread club membership, because one of the things I miss in my provincial life is artisan bread. But even more than their bread, I find myself thinking about their wide selection of cheeses.

Now, I may giggle at Kraft singles, tolerate the cubes of cheddar masquerading as appetizers at office parties, and shudder at the mere thought of Velvetta. But I adore a good cheese. I find Stilton deeply satisfying, as does my friend WannaBeMom. Gruyere takes me back to my childhood family holidays; I thought it a greater delicacy than any dessert at the table (a feeling I still hold to be true). And, much like my beloved Wallace of Wallace and Gromit fame, I love Gorgonzola. And so I find myself looking at the Zingerman's catalog with something akin to lust, my private pornographic reading material. I'm not sure how I can control my urges before I ask Zingerman's to send me a little something-something in a plain brown wrapper.

Speaking of Wallace and Gromit, I did see their latest film, Curse of the Were-Rabbit. As I predicted, it is a very strong film. One of the most satisfying things about the film, rated G, was hearing the audience--which consisted of more adults than children--laugh at clean and often groan-inducing humor. (I must note, though, the the film does have subtle touches of blue humor in its double-entendres complemented by visual gags, a first for these characters.) The film has all the hallmarks of the Wallace and Gromit shorts: the wacky inventions; Gromit's patient but unsentimental caregiving; Wallace's eternal optimism; and the thumbprints on the plasticine characters that remind everyone of the intensive labor of stop-motion animation.

But, like Corpse Bride, Curse of the Were-Rabbit is weakened by its attempt to adhere to a tight narrative structure. Corpse Bride feels constricted by its attempt to convey characterization; as a love story, in any of the possible configurations, the film's narrative is flimsily developed and the resolution painfully so. Really, the narrative is just an excuse to introduce a culture clash between the living and the dead. Romeo and Juliet, it ain't. As much as I enjoyed the Bonejangles sequence, which I'm practically frothy about, I'm much less enamored by the film's need to justify its length by padding the narrative. It would have been much better as a short.

The same should be said of Curse of the Were-Rabbit. It feels equally hampered by the commercial need to be a full-length film. In fact, one of the first things MPiC said upon leaving the theater was, "I enjoyed it, but I wonder if the time [spent producing one full-length Wallace and Gromit film] would have been better spent making three shorts." Like Corpse Bride, Curse uses a romance, its anarchic spoof of classic horror films alternating with a focus on Wallace's lady-love interest. Admittedly, the character of Lady Campanula Tottington is approriate to the world of Wallace and Gromit, and Helena Bonham Carter proves herself to be a fine voice actor for the role. Still Wallace's & Tottington's relationship feels overdetermined and unoriginal. (A subplot involving Gromit's interest is much more cleverly done and is in the spirit of the shorts.)

So even though I enjoyed them, both Corpse Bride and Curse of the Were-Rabbit have me lamenting the commercial imperative to make full-length films. Both films would have been much stronger if cut in half, perhaps even as short films shown before a full-length movie. I miss the double-bill. And I miss the frenetic pacing, disjointed narratives, and wacky associative humor (even the cheesy stuff which pays homage to vaudeville) that marks the short cartoons of Hollywood's golden age. The demise of the 7-minute cartoon as a commercially viable form for movie theaters--which occured for numerous reasons--has transformed animated films, but not always for the better.