FILM REVIEWS . . .

For the twin offenses of being French and not starring Tom Cruise, District B13—a fanboy mash-up of John Carpenter's greatest hits, brought to you by the Luc Besson laboratories—is getting exiled to the art house ghetto. Spread the word: This delirious import is the most (maybe the only) fun action movie of the summer—swift, funny, filled with actual stunts instead of digitized mayhem, and primed at a moment's notice for megaton ass-kicking. Set in 2010 Paris, it fuses Escape From New York's futuristic city-as-prison concept with Assault on Precinct 13's bristling political subtext, as an undercover cop (Cyril Raffaelli) and a convict (David Belle) battle their way through a walled-in underclass banlieue searching for a massive "clean bomb." The plot is mostly straight-to-video silliness, except for a final kicker that feeds off the real-life unrest seething in Paris's strife-torn suburbs. But Belle—a master of parkour, the French extreme sport/martial art devoted to the casual hurdling of physical obstacles—brings an exhilarating athleticism to the many chases and fights. I'd trade all of M:i:III's 126 minutes for one 1.7-second shot of Belle hurtling himself in a single motion through a locked door's transom.

Copyright 2006 Village Voice

Amazing Action

Luc Besson is single-handedly reinventing the action genre, with several audience-pleasing, larger-than-life productions under his belt (including The Transporter and Kiss of the Dragon). This is despite the fact that Besson hasn't helmed a film since 1999's The Messenger, although the filmmaker seems to have an inordinate knack for picking suitable directors to helm his projects. This time around it's Pierre Morel, a man who's no stranger to the genre - having served as cinematographer on such films as Unleashed and The Transporter. Banlieue 13 tells the futuristic story of two men - a good-hearted criminal (David Belle) and a streetwise cop (Cyril Raffaelli) - who must infiltrate a walled city before a nuclear bomb goes off. Comparisons to Escape from New York are inevitable, although the similarities end with the basic premise. Banlieue 13 eschews Escape from New York's gritty, unsympathetic vibe in favor of a more sleek and fast-paced sensibility (no surprise there, given Morel's background). Morel gets things moving almost right away with an amazing foot chase in which Belle leaps from building to building with shocking ease, and the film barely pauses for brief instances of exposition during the remainder of its appropriately short running time. As effective as Morel's direction is, much of the film's success must be attributed to the often jaw-dropping physical ability of both Belle and Raffaelli. The two display some seriously impressive feats of agility, and though they may not be master thespians, there's no denying that these guys have what it takes to carry a contemporary action flick.

Copyright 2006 Slant Magazine

Awesome

By Ed Gonzalez

The week's most exciting piece of trash is Pierre Morel's District B13, which begins with an awesome spinmastered credit sequence that syncs the crunching stop-go beats of a techno song with slick and stretchy snapshots of a ghetto walled off from the rest of Paris. Some might call this a spectacle of empty MTV flash, but there's real excitement to the way image and sound flow here. The structure of the film is that of a multi-staged videogame littered with mini-bosses and capped with an explosive finale, albeit a moral one: Leito (David Belle), an ex-thug from District 13, spoils a drug lord's stash of H; on the outside, Damien (Cyril Raffaelli), an undercover police officer, apprehends a mob lord in miraculous fashion; and, together, the men orchestrate the retrieval of Leito's sister (a strong creature who, at one point, shoves her panties into the mouth of the thug who grabbed her in the ass) and a "clean bomb" that appears to have its nuclear eye pointed at Paris. Morel's images stimulate the senses like a drug, their virtuosity justified by the equally pulse-raising ecstasy of Belle and Raffaelli's fight-the-power bodymoving (recently appropriated by Madonna). The film doesn't compare favorably with two other pop touchstones: Tom Tykwer's Run Lola Run and The Chemical Brother's La Haine-inspired "Galvanize" clip. In the former, Franka Potente's sprinting is roused by love; in the latter, the young crumpers who bust into a predominantly white club are motivated to action by a feeling of social exclusion. B13's lead characters aren't as deeply moved as those postmodern resistance fighters but their allegiance has a political edge, as does the image-sound synergy of the film, encompassing a feeling of boiling social tension. Leito-Damien attempt to fiercely refurbish the veracity of the French motto "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity" in the same way Morel-Besson try to restore the integrity of the action film.

By Randy Myers Contra Costa Times

To really enjoy round three of "Mission:Impossible," you've gotta let go of the past. The easy part is to forget the first two installments, both of which self-destructed like a taped message for Ethan Hunt.

What's tougher is choking back your distaste for TomKat, sofa freakouts and Brooke Shields-bashing. Trust me, it's worth it.

With "M:i:III," Tom Cruise and company put their best action foot forward, and gloriously accomplish what has been one hard-fought and elusive endeavor -- coming up with the right approach for this franchise.

This limber and confident blockbuster pops wheelies over its predecessors and will be a tough act to follow for ensuing summer movies.

What makes this nail-biting roller-coaster ride succeed is that it capitalizes on the best qualities of its predecessors, while wisely avoiding the wobbly excesses.

Fans of either "Mission:Impossible" will be overjoyed with this third movie inspired by the popular TV series. It's a hip action cocktail with a whole lot of kick.

Those hankering for the serpentine plot twists of director Brian De Palma's first film will find their brains twisted a bit here, but not overly taxed. Worshippers of director John Woo's stunt spectaculars in the second outing might miss their slow-mo, but this action is less outrageous and much more satisfying.

Nearly every element clicks firmly into place this time. Cruise, one of the film's producers, deserves kudos, since every job has its perfect match, including a hot-shot director (J.J. Abrams of TV's "Lost" and "Alias"), a talented cast (specifically Philip Seymour Hoffman as a villainous arms dealer who is wickedly deadpan) and a trio of screenwriters (Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci and Abrams) who realize the importance of mixing it up with laughs and thrills.

Unlike the previous films, this "Mission" shifts between the personal and professional life of secret agent Ethan Hunt (Cruise). That move gets us more emotionally involved, since we really like the heroes and really hate the villain.

Abrams tosses us into the action from the start, with a battered and bleeding Hunt strapped to a chair and being tormented by arms dealer Owen Davian (Hoffman), who's pointing a gun to the head of his bound-and-gagged lover, Julia (Michelle Monaghan of "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang").

The sociopathic Davian cooly, then explosively, counts down from 10, demanding Hunt tell him the location of a "rabbit foot" (code words for something else). Time expires, the gun goes off, and director Abrams jolts us back to the engagement party of Julia and Ethan.

Yes, the shuffling time-frame device has been overused, but it works well to increase the tension. A semi-retired Hunt is interrupted at the party by a phone call, and soon he's back on the job, this time rescuing a lovely operative (a tough and believable Keri Russell of TV's "Felicity") whom he mentored. She appears to have snooped around in the right places, has been kidnapped by Davian's cronies, and is being held in a Berlin warehouse.

Hunt joins up with team members, including his ever-cool comrade Luther (Ving Rhames) and two attractive agents, played by Jonathan Rhys Meyers ("Match Point") and model Maggie Q.

The storming of the warehouse and ensuing chopper air fight through windmills are dynamite action pieces, pumped-up to the gills.

The mission, of course, leads to the "rabbit foot," Owen and other intense showdowns. One of the best involves Cruise assuming the identity of a priest in Vatican City. Other pulse-pounding scenes find Ethan scaling and swinging from buildings in Shanghai and fighting off an unexpected air attack on a bridge.

Even though the final moments go dangerously over-the-top, we don't mind ... that much. By then, we've been so energetically entertained that we can ride out a few bumps, secure in the knowledge that this particular mission has been accomplished with such gusto.

Copyright 2006 Contra Costa Times

A perfect 3, almost

BY JOHN ANDERSON

Third time's a charm, as Tom Cruise makes the world safe for ... something. Great action, great pacing, and a dream supporting cast.

Any number of distracted moviegoers will see "Mission: Impossible III" - which premiers at the Tribeca Film Festival tomorrow - as just another sideshow in the long-running Tom Cruise circus, and that's unfortunate. The film, directed by the all-but-unheralded J.J. Abrams ("Lost," "Alias") is the perfect summer movie - fast-paced, action-packed, emotionally engaging (without demanding too much investment), and pure, unadulterated eye candy. Whattya want for 10 bucks? A quarter tank of gas?

The third in the Cruise-controlled series based on the '60s-era Martin Landau-Peter Graves TV show, the film is at a distinct disadvantage regarding its progenitor, which at least had the Cold War to kick around. "M:I 3"? Seldom has a movie dwelled so luxuriously in the realm of world politics without being the least bit political. It may skip about the globe, from L.A. to the Vatican to Shanghai, but never will it share a point of view. This is, of course, strategic - why alienate anyone when all you want is their Jacksons? But it's also a kind of twisted accomplishment. How do you sidestep any and all matters topical when your plotline is about global terror, arms dealing, secret governments, the violation of gun laws and immigration regulations, the flouting of national sovereignties and total defiance of the rules of physics and physiology? It can't have been easy.

But Abrams makes it look that way. The director was given free rein by co-producer Cruise, the only way imaginable to make a decent movie here. Abrams' opening gambit is to drop us smack into the vortex of violence and disorienting intrigue: The initial scene finds M:I operative Evan Hunt (Cruise) handcuffed to one chair, his bride Julia (Michelle Monaghan) in another and the malevolently pudgy Owen Davian (Philip Seymour Hoffman) threatening to kill them both, in order to retrieve something called the "rabbit's foot." It requires a flashback of about two hours to find out what any of this is about.

But the hook is set and Abrams gets to play us like fish, plying us with dollops of comedy and allowing the supporting cast to twirl around Cruise like dancers at a maypole. Somewhere, it is explained that the rabbit's foot is related to an annihilating virus dubbed the "anti-God," which is appropriate because Hoffman is the anti-Cruise. Although given insufficient screen time to steal the movie, Hoffman uses his relatively small role to establish Davian as a cold-blooded sociopath, devoid of any humanizing quality. It's rare in any movie to have a villain of quite such hatefulness - why alienate the villain's family? Villainous families buy tickets, too. But Davian isn't supplied with enough backstory to elicit a soupcon of sympathy, and Hoffman makes sure he doesn't deserve any.

Much of the discussion about "M:I 3" will focus, rightly, on the Shanghai sequence and the magnificent stunt atop the city's skyline - Evan Hunt plummeting from one rooftop, swinging to another and tumbling down an incline to what seems like certain death. That Abrams is able to get the viewer to so firmly suspend reality - the reality that this is a Tom Cruise movie, something Tom Cruise generally survives - is a testament to his craft and the visceral qualities of "M:I 3," a movie worth driving to.

Coyright 2006 Newsday

A gratifyingly clever, booby-trapped thriller

By Owen Glieberman

The summer movie season always has an official beginning, even if it gets nudged back a little earlier each year (by 2016, we'll probably be watching The Mighty Thor IV on President's Day). What it no longer has is any real end. The blossom-of-gasoline explosions, the crushed metal, the zippy seamless mutability of a world gone CGI, the heroes who, if not Superman, are always super men — what it all adds up to is Hollywood's endless summer, the ride that never stops.

And yet, once again, it begins. In Mission: Impossible III, Tom Cruise, as the no-fear, no-sweat IMF agent Ethan Hunt, scurries across a freeway bridge that's been blasted to smithereens and, using nothing but a machine gun, faces down a rogue fighter jet as it launches missiles right at him. He swings from one skyscraper to the next, skittering off the face of a glass pyramid and shooting a guard in mid-slide, landing at the roof's edge with a perfectly understated and in-control ''Okay!'' He sprints through the streets of Shanghai in a black T-shirt that makes him look like the fittest movie star ever and, more arrestingly, strolls quietly into empty rooms, gathering the film's tension around the wary, coiled urgency of his stare.

But wait. It's impossible to watch M:I-3 without asking: Do we still, you know, like Tom Cruise? Last year, the actor's tone-deaf offscreen antics appeared to break up his 20-year love affair with the media, and maybe the public, too. Yet his Great Gossip World Stumble wasn't really a violation of his star quality; it was that very quality taken to extremes. His big mistake on Oprah, for example, was using his springy energy and cocksure grin, his ''spontaneous'' jock-in-front-of-the-bedroom-mirror gestures, his whole spirit of jet-propelled certainty to proclaim romantic devotion — a feeling that by nature is quiet and reflective. Forgetting the lesson of Jerry Maguire (''You complete me''), Cruise acted like a guy who completes himself. It's not that he gave a bad performance but that he gave the wrong performance at the wrong time.

M:I-3, a gratifyingly clever, booby-trapped thriller that has enough fun and imagination and dash to more than justify its existence, seems purposely designed to counteract that gaffe. This time, Agent Hunt is a bit of a softie — or, at least, a guy driven by devotion to the woman in his life. The film opens, rather startlingly, with our hero handcuffed to a chair, as the villain, played with casual slovenly menace by Philip Seymour Hoffman, points a gun at Hunt's bound-and-gagged wife (Michelle Monaghan) and promises to blow her brains out unless Hunt coughs up the Rabbit's Foot, the MacGuffin of a secret weapon that everyone is after. That creepy flash-forward sets the film's stakes — this time, in other words, it's personal — and Cruise, shaking off the karma of his Oprah victory dance, plays Hunt with a keen and watchful intensity, as a knight of espionage doing what he does for love.

I'm happy to report that he also still likes to put on a rubber face. After an overly long exposition in which Hunt tries to rescue a kidnapped agent (Keri Russell) with a time-released micro-bomb implanted in her head, the real amusement begins, as Hunt and his team infiltrate Vatican City, where they're out to capture Owen Davian (Hoffman), an arms dealer who, for the right price, will sell any toxic weapon to any jihad. Ving Rhames' Luther is back, trading barbs about marriage with Hunt, and this time the crew includes surly Jonathan Rhys Meyers and slinky Maggie Q, who has a high-maintenance hauteur. Billy Crudup, as the point man back at headquarters, comes off like Cruise's pasty-faced academic doppelgänger.

The director, J.J. Abrams, is the co-creator and executive producer of Lost and Alias, with their ropy narrative games, and for a good stretch he does a craftier job than Brian De Palma or John Woo did in the first two Mission: Impossibles of reviving the cornball clockwork pleasures of an ingenious trip-wire deception. As Hunt, on a computerized pulley, enters the Vatican, then poses as a priest, then puts on a latex mask to impersonate Davian, only to be forced at the last moment to fake a restroom coughing fit before his Davian voice is electronically activated, M:I-3 stoked my fondest memories of the original TV show's daisy-chain-of-technology suspense.

There's nothing old-fashioned, however, about Philip Seymour Hoffman's performance. Most great actors, when handed the role of a blockbuster villain, will ham it up with style, but Hoffman makes Davian a grubby banal monster. When he warns Hunt that he'll find his wife or girlfriend and hurt her, really hurt her, he shakes his head in mock shame, as if making a sorrowful confession at his weekly meeting of Sadists Anonymous. I wish the second half of M:I-3 were as playfully tricky as the first half; the movie builds to some standard, if breathlessly timed, rescue heroics. Yet its central duel lingers: Hoffman the sullen misanthrope, itching to kill, and Cruise the agent-protector, saving the one he loves with aerobic earnestness.

Reviewed by Staci Layne Wilson

Directors of remakes have pretty thankless jobs. If they make to-the-letter reproductions of beloved fright films (ala Gus Van Sant's Psycho), they are blasted for having no imagination. If they veer totally off the page and do their own thing (like Jaume Collet-Serra's House of Wax), they're taken to task for being irreverent hacks.

I've said it before and I'm saying it again: The Omen (1976) didn't need to be remade. It's a solid movie with nothing missing. It's not dated. The story is still relevant. Damien is an indelible character. But the reality is these "old" movies, according to the studios that own the rights, all need dollars-and-cents resuscitation. You can give a little mouth-to-mouth with an anniversary re-release like they did with The Exorcist, but that barely registers a pulse. The thing that really gets studio suits' hearts racing are remakes. Better yet, reimaginings!

So if it's inevitable, then at least director John Moore should get a pat on the back for walking the fine line between faithfulness to the source material and a nod to the new guard of horror fans who demand a little extra in their Rated-R entertainment.

The Omen, which follows the original screenplay by David Seltzer (and indeed credits him), takes us through the early childhood of Damien Thorn (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick), who was switched at birth in Rome with the murdered infant of an esteemed American diplomat. Robert Thorn (Liev Schreiber), believing his baby died of natural causes, decides to conceal the truth from his wife, Kathy (Julia Stiles), letting her believe that Damien is her own flesh and blood. They move to England, and look forward to a life of privilege.

The tide turns when, during Damien's ostentatious fifth birthday, his nanny (Amy Huck), commits suicide in plain view of all the party guests. This opens the floodgates for evil, and the revelation that Damien, who was born on June 6, at 6 a.m., is the Antichrist.

Needless to say, Robert doesn't believe it at first — he never tells Kathy, even though she is haunted by the strange little boy without knowing why — when he finally does, it is too late. When Kathy dies after an unfortunate accident, Robert finally takes matters into his own hands and resolves to kill Damien before the boy can destroy the world.

Robert is goaded into his crusade by Father Brennan (Pete Postlethwaite) and a local photojournalist, Keith Jennings (David Thewlis); while they give him important guidance, the truth is that Robert must act alone. Standing in his way are all the forces of evil — and Mrs. Baylock (Mia Farrow), Damien's demonic new nanny.

With the exception of Postlethwaite and Thewlis who play them true, the remake cast completely reinterprets their roles. Kathy is a more involved mom, and her inner-conflict is given visual life in the form of sinister dream-sequences. Robert is still upstanding, stiff and dignified, but the 30-something Schreiber makes the action sequences more believable. Mrs. Baylock is not as frosty and impertinent as she was in the first Omen movie, but Farrow adds a sickly sweetness to the role that makes it her own. The ferocious Rottweilers — one who stays with Damien, and others who act as minions to thwart Robert's efforts — serve the same purposes.

I had no problem with any of the casting, except for Damien… I hope I'm not giving a budding child actor a complex here, but Davey-Fitzpatrick looks and acts too malevolent much of the time. Damien's cutesy, chubby-cheeked, sweet-faced façade in the first movie is what made him so damn scary… no one would ever suspect him of being the Antichrist. The new black-haired, angular Damien is often insolent, brooding or scowling. Still, technically as an actor, Davey-Fitzpatrick is good.

Fans of Jerry Goldsmith's Oscar-wining score are likely to be disappointed. Although Italian composer Marco Beltrami has a lot of genre experience and he does a competent job, it's not a scary score… there are no Latin phrases or choral singers, for instance. It's a slicker, more modern score in the "thriller" vein.

People who are familiar with director Moore's previous movies needn't worry too much about his trademark "shaky-cam, just-because-I-can" intruding on the somber feel of the film. There is one incongruous quake-like scene, but it's thankfully short-lived. The movie employs some quick cuts, but it's nothing like the ocular assault that was Behind Enemy Lines. (By the way, I liked Moore's remake of Flight of the Phoenix, but I think The Omen is a much better effort.)

The Omen is a close recreation but in general, there's more set up and suspense to the scenarios — for example: when Robert and Jennings pay a visit to the priest who arranged Damien's adoption, they don't just show up there by car. They are ferried across a lake that brings to mind a glassy River Styx; they're rowed in the canoe by a somber, hooded monk in white robes that compliment the falling snow; an aerial shot leads to the remote seminary where the mute, badly-burned priest awaits them. It's a lusher, prettier, artier looking pic than the original. Some purists might take exception to the embellishments, but I liked them.

The new The Omen is not scarier or even more memorable, but in many ways it is more shocking and suspenseful than the original. The death scenes are more intricate and macabre; and while not necessarily bloody, they are pretty appalling. I'm usually rock-solid during any movie, but I did jump twice in this one — to physically move me is a mean feat for any filmmaker!

All in all, it's a classy remake.

By Kirk Honeycutt

DreamWorks' animated film, "Over the Hedge," is a backyard ecological comedy outfitted with some fine, silly slapstick and clever animal characters. This one is aimed more at a younger audience than, say, "Shrek" but has plenty of entertainment value for older family members to ensure substantial boxoffice returns in both domestic and foreign markets.

One gets the sense though that the DreamWorks/PDI 3-D animation team isn't pushing the edges of their computers the way the Pixar gang does. DreamWorks is playing it safe here with a PC comedy that delivers an ecological message while pitching family values to the point that one wants to shout, "Enough already!" The CG animation is routine, but the writers (working from the popular comic strip) and character animators under the supervision of directors Tim Johnson and Karey Kirkpatrick do a crackerjack job of filling the screen with lively, ingratiating creatures. The humans are crudely drawn, but the two prominently featured have distinctly evil personalities that make up for their rudimentary design.

Because the family in question here consists of porcupines, possums, a squirrel, skunk and chipmunk, all led by a tortoise, DreamWorks has amusingly messed up the animal kingdom on a par with Walt Disney's old Mickey Mouse shorts. Our family awakens from a winter hibernation to discover their forest is gone. In its place is a housing development that has destroyed their food source. A huge hedge separates them from the enemy.

While pondering their dilemma, a "savior" emerges in the form of RJ (voiced by Bruce Willis), a rascally raccoon. He labors under an urgent deadline, imposed by a large and angry grizzly (Nick Nolte), to restock the food larder the bear caught RJ stealing. The raccoon offers the family an apparent solution: Humans throw all sorts of food away in shiny outdoor metal cans. By combining the family's foraging skills with RJ's strategic talents, they can fill next winter's larder in no time.

The family's leader, a turtle named Verne (Garry Shandling), is dubious. He is as wary of humans as he is of the junk they eat. But tree bark can't compete with donuts and pizzas. So the family makes it over the hedge -- well, actually they tunnel through it -- where they pilfer food at will, led by Hammy, a squirrel (Steve Carell) who is overcaffeinated even before eating junk food. So much so that a shrill homeowners association lady (Allison Janney) calls pest control in the hulking form of Dwayne the Verminator (Thomas Haden Church).

This story sets in motion more than enough comic action sequences to fill the movie's 84 minutes. The final caper mimics and rivals the "Mission: Impossible" films' derring-do to hilarious results.

Character animators beautifully marry their creatures to the voice actors' individual eccentricities. Especially noteworthy are Wanda Sykes' slinky skunk, Carell's hyperactive Hammy, Omid Djalili's Persian housecat, Shandling's thoughtful tortoise and Willis' conniving raccoon with a touch of wistful loneliness coming through his bandit exterior.

Production designer Kathy Altieri's witty suburban landscape and Rupert Gregson-Williams' bouncy music keep things light and playful.

Copyright 2006 Hollywood Reporter

A rollicking good time

A film review by Steve Rhodes

RATING (0 TO ****): ***

Looking in the window at a family of humans saying grace before dinner, a bunch of the cute critters in OVER THE HEDGE decide they know what is going on. The movie's central character, an adorable huckster of a raccoon named RJ (voiced by Bruce Willis) explains, "That is the altar where they worship the food."

This latest DreamWorks production features realistic looking CGI for the animals but purposely makes the humans appear more like animated department store mannequins. It's a blend that serves the comedy and the story well. As co-directed by Tim Johnson, the director of ANTZ, and Karey Kirkpatrick, the writer of CHICKEN RUN, the movie is a delightful rollercoaster of laughs. Constantly frantic and funny, the characters rarely take time to catch their breaths. Although there are only a few big laughs, with the extremely well done and surprising ending having the best of them, the movie provides more than enough chuckles to recommend it to all ages, even those without kids in tow. Our packed audience of all ages demonstrated that the film does play well to young and old alike. It wasn't just the little ones who were giggling, which happens so often these days with the many subpar family films.

The plot involves a bunch of sweet little animals from skunks to squirrels, who fall under RJ's spell. They used to be led by the cautious and steady Verne (voiced by Garry Shandling), a tortoise who keeps losing his shell. But, when RJ shows up in their neck of the woods promising treats ranging from corn chips to donuts, the animals abandon Verne and his nutritious and fiber-filled diet of bark, bark and more bark. Steve Carell (THE 40 YEAR OLD VIRGIN) plays Hammy, a scene stealer of a little squirrel who is like parents' worst nightmare of a kid with a massive sugar overload. To say Hammy bounces off walls would be a major understatement.

The story has RJ manipulating the animals to do his dirty work. After being caught stealing and losing the junk food horde of a big bear (voiced gruffly by Nick Nolte), RJ uses his new animal friends to gather replacement supplies. RJ, however, tricks them into thinking that their battle of wits with the suburban dwellers is in order to stock up on snack food for the animals themselves and not to pay off his debt. Of course, there will be a message in the end, but the film is never preachy and is a million miles away from being saccharine. It's always sweet, but it's naturally sweet.

OVER THE HEDGE is one of those films that will leave you with a smile on your face and a reflection that you did indeed have a rollicking good time.

OVER THE HEDGE runs a fast 1:26. It is rated PG for "some rude humor and mild comic action" and would be acceptable for all ages.