So proclaims Constance Wu about midway throughThe House on East 88th Street
by Bernard Waber, and so goes the all-encompassing probing of the film at large.
It’s a similar trajectory to the one taken by the source material, though padded out to turn a 48-page picture book into a 100-plus-minute feature. The broad strokes are the same: Lyle is an anthropomorphic croc living in a Victorian brownstone when the Primm family moves in. Despite the initial terror , Lyle soon grows close to them, particularly the slightly precocious and neurotic young boy Josh , within whom he finds a true friend.
For a film that is sold on the image and idea of a big, singing, dancing crocodile – who is otherwise mute when not belting out his tunes – there seems to be a real disinterest in any notable sight gags or physicality to Lyle as a character. He doesn’t look half bad; he’s animated well and looks natural within the various environments he’s situated in throughout.
This extends to the singing sequences themselves. This is supposed to be a musical, after all, and you’d expect at least some attempt at interesting choreography. Instead, all I can remember are scenes of characters mostly just standing around while singing or delivering lines. More than that, there’s not a memorable song in the bunch.
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