Nandor Fodor and the Talking Mongoose

Sometimes, you’re just in the mood for something goofy. I’m in “year end catch-up” mode, and while most of the movies on my list are dark and/or heavy (or as yet unreleased), this seemed like the perfect respite. Starring some great comedic actors, with an odd and fantastical premise, I sensed the potential for some great fun. And wouldn’t you know it, the opening titles informed me Neil Gaiman was also part of the cast! Man, this keeps getting better.

In the 1930s, Nandor Fodor (Simon Pegg) is a known skeptic, a paranormal researcher who nonetheless dismisses the existence of mediums. The story of a talking mongoose named Gef (voiced by Neil Gaiman) makes its way to Nandor by way of his friend Harry Price (Christopher Lloyd). It seems Gef lives in a barn on the Isle of Man belonging to the Irving family. Price has actually been there, and while he never saw the bugger, he did hear him speak. Which is enough to entice Fodor to check out the situation for himself. His visit reveals a bunch of convenient facts which lead to his doubt: their daughter Voirrey (Jessica Balmer) is a gifted ventriloquist, none of the townspeople have seen the mongoose, and he often disappears for long periods of time, especially when visitors come around. But if everyone believes in him despite the scant evidence, what will it take to show them the truth?

One of the most surprising things to me as the movie began is how serious and intense it is. Sure, it’s got some jokes, as well as making use of wry juxtapositions and general weirdness to make you chuckle. But where I was expecting a Wes Anderson twee-ness, or at least Sherlock’s quick witted style woven around some drama, it was mostly a down to earth story seemingly taking itself quite seriously, as emphasized by the score and the lighting. The vibes were much more A Haunting in Venice than Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Even more so when Gef spoke, as his proclamations seem to comes from a vengeful, bitter spirit, not a rodent-like creature who lives in a burrow.

As such, you spend the first chunk trying to get your footing, as you wonder just exactly what the movie is driving at. It will cause you to ponder the existence of a few choice scenes in a way which will reveal the movie’s true meaning fairly quickly. For example, we open with Nandor explaining the impact perception has on the definition of “real”, using the example of his ability to see ghosts and how that means to him they’re real, even as he knows they’re not real to others. Or when Nandor’s assistant Anne (Minnie Driver) encounters islander Maurice (Paul Kaye), to whom Gef recited a Yates poem on the occasion of his wife’s death, causing him to break down in tears.

It all adds up to the importance of belief (and storytelling, more generally) as something which provides comfort and release when we most need it. Every story we hear about Gef, and every interaction we see, involve some element of a character who’s in a rough spot being given a gentle push to allow themselves to feel something. Whether or not Gef exists is completely beside the point: he serves a vital role to the people of Dalby.

Unfortunately, we pick up on this long, long before the characters do, and so it feels like much of the movie is us being beaten over the head with this relatively simple idea. While Anne has a couple freaky experiences which bring her around fairly quickly despite her initial reluctance, Nandor is particularly resistant to the idea, so we spend most of our time waiting for him to catch up. As such, his quest to uncover what’s going on rings hollow and boring, as the movie has already instructed us to not be too concerned with it. The movie’s substance drains away, and we’re left with a fairly uninteresting and shallow character in a drab and low-energy setting.

One of the oddest things about all that? The movie actually spells out a message at the end. I won’t spoil it, of course. But I had two reactions. One, I’m not a huge fan of a movie telling me explicitly what it was supposed to mean. Absolutely give me hints, point me in the direction, teach me how to read you, etc. However, the beauty of art is that it can be read differently by different people, so trying to tell us what we should take away is quite presumptuous. The other thing is that it differs from the deeper themes discussed above. It doesn’t come out of nowhere: its building blocks are right there in the text. They just seem to be confined to a smaller section of the story, and so end up less satisfying.

Not helping anything are the performances. It’s not that they’re bad, per se. But those accents! What in the world…

From the moment it began, Simon Pegg’s voice sounded familiar. But it wasn’t until about 20 or 30 minutes in it struck me: he was doing his best Christoph Waltz impression. It wasn’t bad, to be honest. But it was certainly distracting. Llyod’s is more subtle, similar to his natural voice, but with some little twinge sneaking in every now and then. My favorite, however, has to be Erroll (Gary Beadle), the Irving’s farmhand. I don’t know what in the world he’s doing, just that it differs greatly from his every day speaking voice as we hear it in a strange bit during the end credits (don’t worry about it, it’s not important).

This experience is an excellent example of the danger of expectation. I like to think I’m good at taking a movie on its own terms, but it definitely took me a little bit to align with this one. Thing is, even once I did, I kept grasping at straws, as this movie doesn’t have as much going on as it thinks it does. It’s slight, its humor is barely there, and it’s not much to look at. It’s not incompetent by any means. It just commits a sin which you could fairly describe as worse: it’s boring.

Except the voices. The voices are bananas.