In the latest installment of "What to Watch", IMDb's TV Editor Melanie McFarland chats with "Mad Men" stars Jon Hamm, January Jones, John Slattery, and series creator Matthew Weiner about the drama's extraordinary legacy, as AMC prepares to air its final seven episodes.
Lady Tremaine gets her hands on the Fairy Godmother's wand, then turns back time to the day Cinderella tried on the glass slipper. She enlarges the slipper to fit one of the stepsisters, ... See full summary »
Christopher Daniel Barnes,
The kingdom of Atlantica where music is forbidden, the youngest daughter of King Triton, named Ariel, discovers her love to an underground music club and sets off to a daring adventure to bring restoration of music back to Atlantica.
Samuel E. Wright,
Including having this piece of garbage in the house. I thought I'd seen the worst of Disney crap with the Beauty and the Beast sequel, but I was wrong. This is much worse. The dialogue is unbelievable - would anyone in the 17th century have talked about "respecting my culture" the way this thoroughly PC Pocahontas does? The cartooning is dreadful - James I is portrayed as a ninny, who makes the old Bugs Bunny parody of Charles Laughton as Nero look like a Holbein portrait. There's some silly "My Fair Lady" plot tossed in, complete with historically nowhere costuming. But the worst thing is the music. It's smeared on everything, like a layer of cheap paint, and it is all completely pointless. This movie gives rise to the question, fatal for any musical, "What is this music here FOR?" In a good musical, the music and songs are supposed to add layers of meaning that mere spoken dialogue can't do - sort of like reaching for another medium to convey more than you can do with words. But in this, the music is just stuck on there because - well, because this is a Disney film, and that's what Disney films DO. It goes on and on - half the time I think they put in songs because a song will take up 3 or 4 minutes, and will use up more time than a spoken line. The dialogue seemed to be tiny little bridges between one ghastly song after another. And everything was a cliche - the chorus was always shouting, the English were always singing some jiggity-jiggity-jig song and Pocahontas was forever warbling long, flowing ballads. The whole thing is a mess.
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