Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax (2012)

Conservative bobble (hot) heads are denouncing the CGI animated 3-D version of Dr. Seuss’ “The Lorax” as the second-worst thing in the universe since “The Communist Manifesto,” or third, behind Obama’s birth certificate. The book: Quick subtle lesson of conservation over consumerism by the late Theodore Geisel. Its plot simple: A boy from a treeless, polluted town seeks a real, life tree. But none are to be found, according to the Once-Ler, a recluse who long ago killed all the trees in the land to make bizarre products from the flowery tree tops. The Once-Ler did not heed the warnings of the Lorax, a short hairy beast that looks like (no really) Wilfred Brimley, but oranger and shorter and much hairier, and the self-proclaimed voice of the voiceless trees.

The “Lorax” movie, directed by Chris Renauld and Kyle Bald, is not quick nor subtle. It’s a sermon. Jonathan Edwards Spider kind, but leftist, and with brighter colors. I am quite liberal, and I fast grew tired of the tree-hugger brimstone drum beat, which is finished off by a disturbing and loud Tom Petty/MTV dirge that will scare the hell out of toddlers. It’s “The Day After the Day After Tomorrow,” but the lessons are not remotely “indoctrinating,” as the Fox critics cry. It’s telling kids to be smart, watch your resources. (I know, responsibility crazy right? I mean, wasn’t there a sentence of three in the Bible where God said, “Take care of the Earth. It’s mine. Not Yours.” Commie Bastard out to get Job, err, jobs.) For 90 minutes, yeah... OK, too damn long.

I digress, sorry. See, all the Seussian word plays, innocence, and childlike wonder of the book, are washed in a sea of redneck jokes, spoofs on the bottled water business (bottled air!) and “Too Big To Fail” gags, and this relentless dizzying, loud, nonstop mad dash to deliver a dozen jokes per minute. (The similarly CGI’d “Horton Hears a Who” is far, far better, a true treat.) That’s not to say “Lorax” is a bad, the animation pops with bright cotton candy colors, and many of the jokes are funny – just more akin to current TV fare. The voice talent is ace, especially Danny DeVito for The Lorax. It’s a joke all its own, such a cuddly creature with that Joizee guy mutter, but still warm.

As for the 1971 book, Corporate America did not like it here or there, or anywhere. They made their own book, “Truax” I recall, a tale that included the lesson that, hey, if some forest animals die in the name of progress, tough luck. In God We Trust. Who says who’s brainwashing children? Maybe Murdoch and Gingrich will fund a pro-multi-national-corporation cartoon, about the fun of mountain top removal, as long as it ends with money being made, it’s all good. “I am the Newt , I speak for the dollars…” Not that “Lorax” is any more pure. B-

P.S. I saw this in 3D. Not necessary. A few scenes, maybe. But overall, save your money. Skip the plastic glasses. But, loving Momma Earth, you knew that, eh?

Bound for Glory (1976)

“Bound for Glory” is a movie the GOP might wish banned, a tribute to the American Union spirit that defied billy-club work-crew bosses during the long Great Depression. Men such as Woody Guthrie and thousands of fruit pickers – paid pennies per bushel for exhausting work – were the first to Take Our Country Back, and “Glory” tells this biopic story of the leftist singer in such wonderful detail, one might think this a documentary. Hal Ashby (“Harold and Maude”) directs with a keen eye and ear, and as the man who wrote “This Land is Your Land,” David Carradine is soulful and serene. It’s a must-watch as we head toward an election held fast by corporate-controlled puppets that have no regard for anyone but their rich peers. Yet, this is no leftist orgy. Guthrie is a womanizer, too selfish to recognize his family. It’s a sharp message from Ashby and Carradine, troubled men themselves. Ronny Cox (“Total Recall”) as a unionizer dazzled by fame is marvelous. The cinematography recalls Dorothea Lange. A-

Windtalkers (2002)

John Woo’s “Windtalkers” is sold as a never-before-told chronicle of Marine-trained Navajos who used a code based on their language to communicate military ops over radio during World War II. Naturally, this being a Hollywood drama, “Windtalkers” actually follows a white guy (Nicolas Cage) as he struggles with war wounds of body and soul, and relegates the persons of color (Adam Beach and Roger Willie) to supporting bits, and most shockingly their Navajo-spoken subtitled-in-English almost mute. Yes, battles are staged with absolute chaos and one can feel the heat of explosions and spent cannon shells, but war flick clichés abound, from campfire sessions to the devoted nurse to the nasty bigot who will have a change of heart. Beer bong alert: A serious drinking game can be made of Woo’s trademark slow-mo action shots. There’s a great story buried here, one that tackles the ironies of a people once hunted and killed by and subjected to white American rule, now fighting for that very nation with their lives. But this ain’t it. Not unless Cage -- playing a ridiculous Rambo killing machine with perfect aim -- is part Native American. C-