The Iron Giant (1999)
Directed by Brad Bird
Written by Tim McCanlies, Andy Brent Forrester, Brad Bird

It sucks. Let's start with the premise: a boy named Hogarth discovers and befriends an alien robot that has landed in his home town. He helps hide the Giant from a persistent FBI agent until the inevitable army showdown. That's it—that's the story.

Oh, there's a few other characters, like the boy's mother, a beatnik artist, and the FBI chief, but I swear to you, the film is as deep and substantial as grandma's lingerie drawer (I am of course referring to that frigid bitch Grandma Rose who wouldn't take me to the Star Wars convention in '82 because she had a "beauty appointment" … unlike Grandma Gertie, who cuts the crust off my sandwiches and knows what I like in the sack).

While watching it, my friends and I kept wondering aloud when something resembling anything would happen. But it never did. Boy discovers robot. Boy befriends robot. Army looks for robot. Confrontation. The end.

As a result, the characters are insanely ill-defined, to the point where you scratch your head and wonder how exactly did anyone agree to finance this film? I mean, there is literally no one to sympathize with … no one! The boy is a moron, the mother is stupid, the FBI agent is asinine, and the beatnik is idiot-nik.

Worse yet, although we learn what the Iron Giant is, we NEVER learn where he's from or why he's on Earth. Most films have at least some sense of urgency—The Iron Giant is like an obese cop on the Bayou in August, lounging in the backseat of his cruiser with the windows rolled up making slow love to a sleeping malamute.

Not even the army or the threat of a nuclear bomb could rouse the film into action. And this is supposed to be an animated film that courts the jaded teenage audience! Um, not quite.

Then there's the animation … oy vey! Taking its cue from older animated films, TIG attempts a sort of style but manages to look and feel utterly bland—even in what are supposed to be the most "exciting" sequences. The film also pays homage to the paranoid sci-fi films of the 1950s but completely avoids any of their nervous energy or entertaining silliness.

The saddest part, as with all failed films, is what could have been. For one shining moment, TIG shows some promise—an extremely brief but successful parody of the old "duck and cover" nuclear safety films. Now please someone, didn't anyone consider designing the entire movie as if it were an old safety film – didn't anyone look at the old EC comics—I mean, come on people, didn't anyone on this pile of shit EVER see another movie, EVER????????

What little remaining space and dignity I have left will be used to single- handedly bring down the careers of some of the voice "talent" associated with TIG by very cleverly twisting their name into childish aliases – there's Jennifer Anus-ton as "Hogarth's mother," Harry Can't-Act, Jr., as "the Beatnik," and worst of all, Pisstopher McDonald as "the FBI agent."

This Christopher McDonald person is responsible for some of the worst acting in recent history, and is now at the top of my Hollywood shit-list (he played Ward Cleaver in Leave It to Beaver, and the bad guy in both Flubber and Happy Gilmore … you know who he is and you hate him too). I swear, if I ever see him, I plan to give him a taste of my trademark Knuckle Tonic™.

The only recognizable voices are M. Emmett Walsh and John Mahoney, who remain high in my esteem despite their involvement here.

Review by Crimedog