Sometimes it’s good to be first, and sometimes it’s better to be second, learning from the errors of the pioneers.  The Adventures of Tin Tin isn’t the first (or even the second) feature film made that utilises motion-capture technology throughout (as opposed to employing it for certain sequences or to give life to a particular character), but it’s technically and aesthetically (and overall) a considerable improvement over its predecessors such as The Polar Express.  Yes, these are still all essentially animated films, even computer-animated films like Toy Story 3.  It’s merely a matter of degree and technology, but everything we see is artificially created, whether it was drawn by hand, ginned up in a computer, the result of manipulating little clay models, or was concocted by attaching little sensors to actors’ bodies and downloading their movements digitally.  ”Motion capture” itself is not so much more than a sophisticated form of rotoscoping, a process first used in the 1910s.

However, each method of animation has its own peculiar aesthetic strengths and weaknesses, though what these are and which technology is best-suited for a particular type of story are beyond the scope of this brief review.  But briefly, motion-capture arguably provides a greater illusion of reality—The Adventures of Tintin is essentially a classic action-adventure movie and its stunts, locations, and sets are more or less “realistic”—while at the same time allowing for action, scope, settings and effects which would be impossible (or at least prohibitively expensive) to accomplish in live-action.  

But there’s another reason The Adventures of Tintin is well-suited for animation and that is its roots in the comic strip medium.  Previous film and television versions of the long-running series were made, both live-action and animated, but Spielberg’s film has the best of both worlds: the budgetary and technical limitations of live-action have been overcome, and yet the “dimensionally” realistic visuals elevate it to the level of a “real movie” that can appeal to all ages, rather than a flat “cartoon” which might be classed as purely juvenile entertainment (this is not definitive—The Illusionist is drawn-animation and yet it is “realistic” and quite emotionally affecting—but in general terms, drawn animation is a more artificial medium). This is ironic, because the original Tintin by Hergé was drawn in a semi-cartoony manner, halfway between the “bigfoot” humour style and realistic comic art.  The Adventures of Tintin does retain the familiar character designs though, which should please purists, another advantage of animation over live-action.

But what of The Adventures of Tintin as a film?  The result is aesthetically pleasing but perhaps not as special and memorable as one might hope, for several reasons.  First, there are far too many sequences which appear to be striving to awe rather than entertain the audience.  I’ve said it before, there’s apparently a strict rule in the world of film that all 3-D movies must contain at least one flying sequence to showcase the illusion of depth, and Tintin meets the requirement, in spades.  Fine, these are exciting enough but not really thrilling in an emotional way.  Far too much swooping and diving and soaring—this is a film, not a flight simulator.  Other sequences are guilty of excessive pictorialism, i.e., the self-indulgent presentation of images largely (if not solely) for the sake of their visual impact.  Not a problem, unless there are too many of them (and there are) and they last too long (and some do).  Finally, The Adventures of Tintin has a thin plot which serves chiefly as a vehicle for the aforementioned action sequences and gorgeous images. This makes it less a fully-realised film than a cinematic version of a theme-park ride.  If you don’t see this in 3-D (and I didn’t—the film doesn’t open theatrically in the USA until the third week in December, although it’s already in European cinemas), the threadbare nature of the script will be especially noticeable.

Perhaps that’s a little harsh.  The Adventures of Tintin isn’t dull (far from it) and it’s not silly, and it doesn’t pander or condescend to the audience (no songs, thank goodness, except one that’s integral to the plot). There are amusing aspects and the “performances” are often engaging.  I suppose we are going to have to create a new lexicon and methodology for the evaluation of “acting” in such films, ranging from strictly vocal performances (in CGI movies such as Toy Story 3) to motion-capture of bodily movement plus the voice (the nuances of facial expression may or may not be “capturable,” but in The Adventures of Tintin this is almost a moot point, given the semi-realistic characters—with the exception of Sakharine, whose visage is much more life-like than Tintin, Captain Haddock, Thompson and Thomson, etc.).   There’s not much stunt-casting here: although the cast includes semi-“names” such as Daniel Craig, Andy “King of Mo-Cap” Sirkis, and Simon Pegg, they all play distinct characters rather than thinly-veiled versions of themselves. Captain Haddock is the most complex character—Tintin is spunky but bland, Sakharine is unremittingly villainous, Thompson and Thomson are befuddled comic relief—but everyone acquits themselves admirably, suggesting motion-capture “acting” is somewhat more than simply turning a human being into a rubbery caricature.  [Mention should also be made of Tintin’s dog Snowy, who treads a middle ground between realism and anthropomorphism (and presumably wasn’t “acted” by a real dog for motion capture…or was he?).]  These characters (the major ones) become as “real” to us as live-action characters can be…except that the script doesn’t spend any significant time on character development or growth (again, with the exception of Captain Haddock), and that hurts the film.

The plot, as noted above, is skimpy.  Youthful journalist Tintin purchases a model ship on a whim, moments before the supercilious Sakharine arrives to make an offer.  The model is one of three, each containing a clue to the location of the pirate treasure of Sir Francis Haddock.  Sakharine and his henchmen want to obtain all three clues, but Tintan, Snowy, and Captain Haddock—boozy descendant of Sir Francis—are also on the trail of the treasure.  Set in a non-specific time in the past (the 1950s?), The Adventures of Tintin is an old-school adventure film that races from one location to the next, plunging its protagonists into one perilous situation after another.  It’s pleasant enough, with lashings of humour (some effective, some clumsy and overblown), lots of action but relatively little bloodshed, exotic locations, John Williams music…all very “Indiana Jones”-ish.  Of course, the visceral impact of this is diluted by the unreal nature of animation: we might still care about the characters and the action is still exciting, but we empathise more with live-action, because we’re watching real people.  

I can’t predict if The Adventures of Tintin will become a beloved classic or even a blockbuster hit in the USA—the “Tintin” comic is all but unknown here, so that particular well of nostalgia can’t be tapped, although as with the Indiana Jones films, there’s a definite “classic Hollywood” atmosphere, and given the Spielberg rep, it’ll certainly take in plenty of money (in real-world terms, though the overall profitability will probably rest on the picture’s international gross)—but it’s generally entertaining as a film and will probably be even better as a big-screen 3-D “experience” in cinemas.