The very first scene of Treasure Planet establishes its objective to break free of the traditional roots of Robert Louis Stevenson's adventure novel; the young Jim Hawkins' book does not contain words, but moving, flashing pictures which allow for complete and utter immersion. His gigantic head pops up in the midst of a great big cargo ship being pursued, not through the seas, but the spies above us. The film's take is modernised, and aligns with this objective; traditional animation still etches out most of the human characters, but there are additional three dimensional renders which are shown off to their fullest by the proud animators. The most stunning of these is the reveal of the living breathing port town on the moon; we don't simply jump right into the action, but zoom in from afar and swivel around via their Deep Canvas technique so that each facet of the environment and the digital render is on display.
The setting of the adventure story is a vague anachronistic future where civilisation has taken to the stars and galaxies above but still shoot through space in wooden ships with sails. Jim's mother owns an inn which serves weird patrons of all sizes and species with weirder foods. The society is also advanced enough to delegate its policing to robots, who rough up Jim and give him one last warning. Another robotic character that we meet later is B.E.N, who is voiced by a comedian and exists only to make the odd one-liner and dole out crucial plot details whenever necessary. It seems that every animated film must have one of these wacky, obnoxious sidekicks. B.E.N is rendered digitally in 3D so at least all his crazy antics are captured vividly.
The rest of the cast is established in varying amounts of detail but it lacks the charm and personality of Disney's earlier film, Atlantis, which produced stereotypes but also gave heart and agency to its motley crew. One of the crew is a pirate in disguise, John Silver (as if the name did not ring any bells), who develops a soft spot for Jim and slowly becomes a proxy father figure. A pleasant surprise sees their relationship built from the genuine reactions and experiences of the two characters; Silver is able to diagnose the source of Jim's feistyness and impulsiveness because perhaps he sees the same qualities in a younger version of himself, bouncing from pirate ship to ship. The theme of missing parenthood is a common one in many children's films, but it does not feel forced here, but rather a natural extension of their stories and actions.
Was Treasure Planet one of the coming signs of the death of traditional animation and the boom of digital? The film was a box office bomb, and in the coming years the shift was inevitable. Paradoxically, much of the digital elements now seem retrograde and dated; B.E.N could have done just as well drawn by hand, and although the sight of massive waves of individually rendered gold pieces and treasure is an impressive feat, it looks overly shiny and fake. But that aging comes with any technology. Treasure Planet cannot escape from the worst of these animation films; the pop song over spirited montage, the unavoidable blossoming romance, the crass flatulence humour. There is a better film hiding within its premised, and in the magical folds of Jim's storybook.
The setting of the adventure story is a vague anachronistic future where civilisation has taken to the stars and galaxies above but still shoot through space in wooden ships with sails. Jim's mother owns an inn which serves weird patrons of all sizes and species with weirder foods. The society is also advanced enough to delegate its policing to robots, who rough up Jim and give him one last warning. Another robotic character that we meet later is B.E.N, who is voiced by a comedian and exists only to make the odd one-liner and dole out crucial plot details whenever necessary. It seems that every animated film must have one of these wacky, obnoxious sidekicks. B.E.N is rendered digitally in 3D so at least all his crazy antics are captured vividly.
The rest of the cast is established in varying amounts of detail but it lacks the charm and personality of Disney's earlier film, Atlantis, which produced stereotypes but also gave heart and agency to its motley crew. One of the crew is a pirate in disguise, John Silver (as if the name did not ring any bells), who develops a soft spot for Jim and slowly becomes a proxy father figure. A pleasant surprise sees their relationship built from the genuine reactions and experiences of the two characters; Silver is able to diagnose the source of Jim's feistyness and impulsiveness because perhaps he sees the same qualities in a younger version of himself, bouncing from pirate ship to ship. The theme of missing parenthood is a common one in many children's films, but it does not feel forced here, but rather a natural extension of their stories and actions.
Was Treasure Planet one of the coming signs of the death of traditional animation and the boom of digital? The film was a box office bomb, and in the coming years the shift was inevitable. Paradoxically, much of the digital elements now seem retrograde and dated; B.E.N could have done just as well drawn by hand, and although the sight of massive waves of individually rendered gold pieces and treasure is an impressive feat, it looks overly shiny and fake. But that aging comes with any technology. Treasure Planet cannot escape from the worst of these animation films; the pop song over spirited montage, the unavoidable blossoming romance, the crass flatulence humour. There is a better film hiding within its premised, and in the magical folds of Jim's storybook.