Dir: Pierre Coffin, Chris Renaud
Sincere Question: During this, Pixarâ€™s Golden Age of Animation, is it somehow ungrateful to wish for an occasional decent deviation from Masterpiece after Masterpiece, in the way that Bugs Bunny and Co. served as a hellzapoppinâ€™ corrective to Disneyâ€™s dignified heft? (Despite the repeated efforts of Dreamworks, the mere presence of pop culture references and â€™70s songs on the soundtrack just doesnâ€™t scratch the itch, somehow.) Call me Looney, but the more resonant and spectacular Pixarâ€™s output becomes, the greater the risk of reducing the surface pleasures of watching drawings (or renderings or whatever) do things that real people canâ€™t.
Despicable Me would likely be enjoyable on any terms, but in the wake of the heart-wrenching Toy Story 3, its emphasis on Rube Goldbergian pratfalls and spittakes seems almost heroic. Much like last yearâ€™s Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, it recognizes the virtues of letting a cartoon be, well, cartoony, no matter how newfangled the technology.