Disney’s success has come the old-fashioned way-they’ve earned it. “Aladdin,” a comic-musical Arabian Nights adventure, is a high-flying carpet ride that has all the painstaking craftsmanship we’ve come to expect from Disney plus an anarchic comic sensibility that’s brash and new. The name of Disney’s secret weapon is Robin Williams. Providing the voice of the Genie (who helps the teenage street urchin Aladdin win the hand of beautiful Princess Jasmine), Williams erupts with one of his volcanic, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink improvisations. The animators were left to play visual catch-up, finding a face for every vocal metamorphosis Williams spun out. The result is a big blue Genie who transforms himself into William F. Buckley, Jack Nicholson, a bee, Arsenio Hall, Rodney Dangerfield, a row of cheerleaders, Ed Sullivan, a Frenchman, a prissy tailor, Robert De Niro, Pinocchio-and more.
Half the cultural allusions may go whizzing over the heads of the tots, but there are plenty of other goodies whizzing through these azure skies, particularly the magic carpet itself, an eloquent character with tassels and folds as expressive as a handwoven Olivier. For fright, there’s the evil Jafar, the treacherous adviser to the bumbling Sultan; perched on Jafar’s bony shoulders is his grouchy parrot Iago (voice of Gilbert Gottfried), a bird with the shtik of a Catskills stand-up. Next to these scene stealers, leading man Aladdin may seem a little Valley Boy bland, but his heart’s desire, Princess Jasmine, is a feminist firebrand eager for freedom from the stultifying court.
Heaps of praise go to directors John Musker and Ron Clements (“The Little Mermaid”), to supervising animator Eric Goldberg, who masterminded the Genie, to Randy Cartwright (responsible for the carpet) and to legions of Disney’s semi-anonymous artists. Two quibbles. In general, the Broadway-style musical numbers are not as memorable as those in “Beauty and the Beast.” Only the strutting “Prince Ali” and the Genie’s clever “Friend Like Me”-both written by Alan Menken and the late Howard Ashman-raise the roof. And “Aladdin” takes a while to get into full gear: adults must keep the faith until Williams’s blissfully funny Genie finally emerges from his lamp. That’s when the real fun begins.
As for young Mr. Culkin’s latest opus: it made me laugh, just as the first “Home Alone” did. And for good reason-it’s exactly the same movie. OK, this time the now 10-year-old Kevin gets on the wrong plane and ends up alone in New York City at Christmas, while his family flies off to Florida. And whom should he run into but his old foes, Harry (Joe Pesci) and Marv (Daniel Stern), just escaped from prison and ready for more slapstick abuse. Instead of Roberts Blossom as the sinister/sentimental next-door neighbor, we have Brenda Fricker as an s/s homeless pigeon lady in Central Park. The movie even repeats the gag where Kevin scares off intruders with the soundtrack of an old gangster movie-although this time his victims are the snooty staff at the Plaza Hotel, where he’s ensconced himself in pig heaven.
For accuracy’s sake, writer-producer John Hughes and director Chris Columbus should have called this “Home Alone 1 1/2.” Will kids mind such brazen self-cannibalization? Are you nuts? Familiarity breeds content. Nor will little ones mind the violence Kevin inflicts on the bad guys; what may seem needlessly sadistic to grown-ups will no doubt be taken in its intended Tom and Jerry spirit. Let’s face it: Culkin’s self-reliant suburban warrior has entered a whole generations pop mythology. He’s their Knight in Shining Parka, safely beyond criticism. Safe, at least, until the inevitable arrival of puberty, or “Home Alone 3”-whichever strikes first.
