Ray Gunn - Review
LFF Special
Brad Bird’s retrofuturistic animated sci-fi fails to make the impact the 30 year development period deserves, delivering a predictable plot and unimaginative visuals.
Directed by Brad Bird, Running Time 119 mins, Distributed by Netflix
Review by Mitch Bailey
When Brad Bird announced in 2021 that his long time passion project Ray Gunn was finally moving forward, many fans were delighted at the fact that the beloved director could finally put his vision into their hands. Then, when you combine the addition of John Lasseter, (controversial) former head at Pixar, and Michael Giacchino, Bird’s long time collaborator and genius composer, there’s an expectation that surely this can’t fail, surely this has to be a return to the golden age of animated features, right?
At least, that’s what I thought - the trio that together made the triumphs Ratatouille and The Incredibles, films now deemed the pinnacle of animated cinema, a director in Bird that hadn’t made a film in 8 years prior to this - expectations were set to appropriately deemed levels considering the elements at play. And so as I sat at the world premiere, childlike anticipation coursing through my caffeinated veins, my disappointment with the film slowly started setting in around the 30 minute mark. On paper, there’s nothing exceptionally wrong; Giacchino’s score carries the film sonically, Bird’s charm and whimsy on show as usual, animation of the highest fidelity. But therein lies the problem: there’s nothing new or exciting here. Brad Bird isn’t reinventing the wheel with Ray Gunn, a film that essentially is ‘baby’s first noir’. Nearly every character, serviceable, inoffensive. Sam Rockwell as Raymond Gunn, effectively playing Humphrey Bogart with a flying car, doesn’t do anything particularly egregious, but compared to the director’s previous lead characters - Remy, Bob Parr and Helen Parr - there’s a distinct lack of personality from the titular character and the performance. I think this is a byproduct of the final screenplay; somewhere along the way, Bird had a film that was dark, gritty, original, and a lead character with a chip on his shoulder and a burning purpose. The Ray Gunn we got? A film that is a metaphorical crime scene, evidence all over that suggests tampering by executives in suits, stripping away anything that could potentially reduce viewership or impact Netflix’s quarterly turnover.
And then there’s the plot. Raymond is a fiscally struggling private eye who alongside his partner Eyera will take on any job for the right price. When a job involving the superstar pop icon Venus Nova (Scarlett Johansson) goes sideways, Ray and Eyera get wrapped up in a case that takes them deeper and deeper into dangerous territory. Any great murder mystery excels when the audience are given a number of suspects to whittle down, a sense of pride and achievement earned if you deduce using the evidence provided. Ray Gunn proves to be a frustrating experience in this regard due to the lack of viable suspects dotted along the narrative. Every plot beat predictable, every twist seen coming a mile off.
Let’s talk positives - the film is set within a diverse, cruel world full of deceit and transgressions, enabling conversations regarding classism and racism to be introduced and explored within the narrative. Scarlett Johansson is the strongest performer in the film - she’s given the most variety and emotional range to work with and she utilises this creative freedom to her best ability. Her character is the centre of the story and Johansson understands the gravitas of this role. Matt Berry, who plays the brilliant crime lord of the alien underworld “Slugsy”, another standout. His vocal performance is booming and powerful, and the character, although sporadic in screen time, is one of the best the film has to offer.
Ray Gunn had the potential to be the ‘beloved Brad Bird film’ for a new generation. Whilst for some that may end up being the case, I struggle to see this being culturally significant like the director’s previous works, and that is a real shame.
