Ian Thomas Malone

Monthly Archive: January 2020

Sunday

26

January 2020

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Sundance Review: Wander Darkly

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Relationships are built on a sequence of events, moments that sometimes feel trivial, or others that subtly build upon each other. Romantic hardships are rarely singular occurrences, often smaller disputes that gather steam until the lid is blown off. Wander Darkly breaks down the timeline of a partnership, after a tragic accident changed everything.

Adrienne (Sienna Miller) and Matteo (Diego Luna) have been together a long time, with plenty of rough patches along the way. A date night car accident throws Adrienne into a disoriented trance of memories. Her life hanging in the balance, she finds a home in her own thoughts.

Wander Darkly blends reality and the dream, memory of an odyssey through the blurry realm of truth. The film is mostly made up of a loose timeline of Adrienne and Matteo’s relationship, revisiting their pivotal moments and others that possess an understated significance. Adrienne often doesn’t understand why she’s been brought to these memories, but the sequences play with elegance, a certain theological underscore.

The narrative feels like it’s playing out in purgatory, but Wander Darkly is a celebration of life, hardships and all. To have lost is to have had, a perspective easily taken for granted. Purgatory paints imagery of judgement, a higher power determining one’s eternal fate. The same kind of dynamic exists with relationships as well, moments where you can either forgive or go your separate ways.

Director Tara Miele has a keen sense for depicting anxiety. The camera angles often paint the picture, with the characters themselves lost in the moment. Miele’s pacing heightens the emotion resonance, never lingering too long in a scene. 

Miller and Luna carry the film through its esoteric voyage. They play eminently convincing partners, a difficult feat especially through the time-jumping structure of the narrative. Miller communicates Adrienne’s pain in a way that makes you want to reach out and comfort her. Matteo is the kind of boyfriend who’s probably not a good fit for a life partner, but the kind of person you stay with because of the way his smile makes you feel.

Wander Darkly is a difficult film at times, constantly forcing the audience to relocate its footing as the film jumps around. It’s far from a passive experience, and one that’s probably best suited to multiple viewings. Just as you think you’ve got a scene figured out, another twist is thrown in your face.

The film is a bit rough around the edges from a plot perspective. Wander Darkly is more about the experience than the story, but the story hits some turbulence when it’s time to start the landing. To a certain extent that’s supposed to be the point, as the characters are on a pretty rough journey. 

Wander Darkly is a wild ride. The acting is superb and the storytelling never stops throwing curveballs at the audience. There are more romantic films out there than anyone can count, but Miele’s film carves out a mind-blowing niche for itself.

Saturday

25

January 2020

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Sundance Review: Falling

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Far too many members of the LGBTQ community know what it’s like to have parents who won’t accept them for who they are. Falling is a film about long-frayed familial bonds, featuring a father suffering from dementia with many sins beyond simply being a homophobe. Pulling double duty as director and lead actor, Viggo Mortensen struggles to make a compelling case for why the audience should care about a dying hateful man. 

John (Mortensen) lives a pretty decent life. He has a loving husband Eric (Terry Chen), and a happy daughter Monica (Gabby Velis). His happy home is disrupted by the arrival of his father Willis (Lance Henriksen), whose illness forces him to abandon his beloved New York ranch in favor of California.

Mortensen blurs the lines between past and present, frequently changing timelines as he tells the story of this troubled family. In the present day, Willis is racist, sexist, homophobic, and a bully. In the past, he’s mostly just a bully, a terrible husband and father. After a while, you get the sense that the only thing stopping him from making slurs in the past is the lack of suitable object for his hate.

Falling might be the best performance of Henriksen’s career, but the film substitutes narrative for a relentless obsession with slurs. It’s not simply excessive, it’s the entire movie. The script is so fixated on making sure that Willis utters obscenities with every other sentence that it’s impossible to care about him as a character. Despite a runtime bordering on two hours, there isn’t much of a plot. The film is mostly just about a bigoted old man and the family who, for some reason, hasn’t left him to die on his own.

The film holds back on exploring Gwen (Hannah Gross), John’s mother and Willis’ first wife. Gwen suffered much humiliation from Willis, some of it public, but the film doesn’t bother exploring her as a character. Like John, she’s mostly there to be abused by Willis.

The acting is top-notch. Laura Linney puts forth a strong supporting effort at Sarah, John’s sister in a minor role. Sverrir Gudnason does a great job portraying the younger Willis. Mortensen doesn’t really try to dig deeper into his characters, showing snippets of Willis’ life bookended by his awful behavior.

The film doesn’t really try totie itself together until late in the third act. By then it’s too hard to care. You can kind of feel for John’s predicament, but it’s just an empty experience to watch. There’s little redemption to be found in any of the character’s interactions. This is John’s burden, but it’s unclear why the audience would want to follow along.

Falling is a well-crafted mess of a movie. Mortensen’s directorial debut shows promise, but there’s a gaping hole in the middle where a story should be. Blood might be thicker than water, but few people could be bothered to care about an awful, worthless bigot like Willis. Film has better stories to tell. 

Saturday

25

January 2020

1

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Slamdance Review: Thunderbolt In Mine Eye

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High school is a pivotal time for many American adolescents, a period when many experience their first whiffs of freedom outside their parents’ looming eyes. Young people’s initial tastes of sex, weed, and alcohol often leads to cringe-worthy memories, which some might say is an important part of growing up.

Thunderbolt in Mine Eye captures a first awkward first for two young high-school students. Harper (Anjini Taneja Azhar) is a freshman with a good group of friends and loving adoptive parents. She starts a relationship with her neighbor Tilly (Quinn Liebling), who’s also a close friend of her brother Adam (Alex Jarmon). The politics of teenage relationships naturally proves a bit troublesome for Harper, exacerbated by rumors that have a habit of finding their way through high school corridors.

The film does an excellent job of portraying a snippet of its character’s lives, representative of the era itself. Directors Sarah Sherman and Zachary Ray Sherman have a firm grasp of high school culture. One’s teenage years may be a formative time for many, but it’s by no means definitive. Young love rarely translates into lifelong love, nor does it need to.

What’s particularly impressive about the narrative is the realistic way it unfolds. The characters behave largely as you’d expect them to. As with any plot, some antagonists are required, mostly in the form of predictable nasty classmates, but the conflicts feel natural. If you neglect your friendships in favor of a significant other, you’re bound to get a bit of cold shoulder. That’s life.

The young stars are very talented. Azhar and Liebling have a natural sense of chemistry, highly believable in their puppy love. Both actors are quite gifted at drawing out quiet moments of brilliance in their scenes, comfortable in the awkward nature of many of the scenarios. The film recognizes that much of its audience has been in its characters’ shoes, not needing to oversell the emotion.

The film also deserves credit for keeping technology out of the narrative as much as possible. Phones are sadly a major component of high school life these days, a breeding ground for FOMO and its associated anxieties. The film includes a couple scenes of text messaging, but it stakes its ground in the humanity of its characters.

Thunderbolt in Mine Eye captures the spirit of teenage angst, a refreshing narrative that celebrates the subtleties of an awkward era. High school doesn’t have to define anyone, but in real time it often feels that way. The mature young cast are an absolute treat to watch. Sherman and Sherman have crafted quite an impressive film.

Saturday

25

January 2020

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Sundance Review: Summertime

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It’s rare to see a film unabashedly embrace the heart of Los Angeles, an often-maligned city rich with so many different cultures. Too often, films focus on the superficial or the star-crazed, a city seemingly as fake as the sound stages it houses. With Summertime, director Carlos López Estrada harnesses the power of 25 young poets speaking their truths in the city they call home.

Spoken word poetry drives the narrative, which possesses a loose continuity throughout the film. The individual scenes mostly function as vignettes, each containing a different poem from the large ensemble cast. The poets are breathtakingly raw in their deliveries, presenting their full emotions to the audience.

The characters comes from many different backgrounds, brought together largely by chance encounters. Summertime harnesses the sheer humanity in community, a powerful testament of simple interaction. The social media era provides glimpses into practically the whole world, sometimes at a cost to one’s awareness of reality around them.

Most of the plotlines are pretty heavy in nature, but there’s plenty of levity. Cheeseburgers play an important role in the narrative, a simple pleasure that can mean so much to people in times of struggle. Most of the characters are compassionate to each other despite being strangers, an optimistic tone in an era where too many find nothing but despair.

Estrada does a masterful job weaving the many strands of the narrative into a relatively cohesive story. Aside from one plotline’s time-jumping, the bulk of the film takes place over the course of a single day. The crossovers between characters do feel a bit arbitrary, but the emotion of each scene makes it easy to forgive some of the bumpier transitions.

Juggling twenty-five characters, Summertime doesn’t waste a single second of its runtime. Estrada tears at the heartstrings in every scene. It’s a tearjerker at times, but also quite hilarious in other moments. The film has an interesting grasp on realism, presenting intimate stories layered with a zanier delivery at times.

The film might struggle to win over skeptics of the spoken word emphasis. Estrada based the film off a high school showcase he attended, leading to its fairly singular presentation. Summertime works best for audiences that approach the film with open hearts, ready to take in Los Angeles from the poet’s souls.

Utilizing an exceptional young cast, Summertime crafts a beautifully raw love letter to Los Angeles. The loose structure allows it to reach a degree of authenticity that few films dare to try for. Estrada took more than two dozen moving pieces and made a tearjerker of a story.

Friday

24

January 2020

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Sundance Review: Miss Americana

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The big challenge for films like Miss Americana is to present its stars in a way that doesn’t feel like one big infomercial. Taylor Swift is one of the most famous people in the world. She doesn’t need to give access to anyone. Director Lana Wilson covers a wide range of Taylor’s life while building a narrative that strikes at the nature of her relentless drive.

From a timeline perspective, Miss Americana includes practically the entirety of Swift’s life, aided by footage numerous home videos. The film spends the bulk of its time on the past few years, namely the production of Reputation and Lover. Swift allows cameras in the studio for the first time in her career, capturing intimate moments where her music comes alive.

Swift has kept up an impressive workload for an artist who has little left to prove. Unsurprisingly in that regard, she often conducts herself as a person still trying to climb the mountain well after she’s reached the top. Success at an early age appears to have instilled a deep longing for the public’s approval, often to her own detriment.

Wilson wields Swift’s own words to tell a story that hints at the artist’s shortcomings without ever feeling like it’s being outwardly critical. Miss Americana breaks new ground while thoroughly remaining on Taylor’s side. It’s a singular kind of music documentary, one with the artist’s full participation that manages to be thought-provoking, even if it’s clear that punches are being pulled. Wilson doesn’t need to be Mike Wallace to dive deeper into her subject.

Sometimes she earns an eye roll for complaining about things that can be safely filed into first world problems, but that also reflects a person who has barely had any privacy for over a decade. Strangers break into her house to sleep in her bed. That’s not normal by any definition of the word.

Miss Americana works best when it focuses on Taylor’s rise in the resistance after a decade of silence on the political front. For a performer with roots in the country music world, the Dixie Chicks serve as a cautionary tale for what happens when you bash a Republican president. Taylor’s embrace of feminism and LGBTQ rights created an untenable situation for staying on the sidelines.

To her credit, she admits mistakes on this front. She has one of the most powerful microphones in the world. Though her management, including her father, protests, she wades into the 2018 senatorial race in Tenessee, knowing full well that attacks from the Tweeter-in-chief are bound to follow. Plenty of people and big corporations talk a big game on inclusion, but Swift feels genuine in her desire to grow as an ally. The sexual assault case that she recently won had a profound impact on her approach to activism. That kind of sincerity is sadly too often missing from this political climate.

The film does leave a couple strands of her career undeveloped. Early on, the film walks up to the idea that Reputation had made some mistakes, but never really follows through on this idea. The Taylor Swift that once sang about how “the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now” is nowhere to be found. That Taylor appears to not only be dead, but forgotten also.

For a film with a ninety-minute runtime, it’s understandable how stuff like her feud with Katy Perry wouldn’t make the cut. Taylor Swift has had a very long and storied career, all before the age of thirty. Also absent is Scooter Braun, though the ongoing nature of that dispute makes it difficult to include in a narrative like Miss Americana.

It is somewhat disappointing to not see the thought process behind songs like “Bad Blood” or “Look What You Made Me Do” explained, or even examined. Miss Americana frequently highlights the fact that Swift writes all her own songs, making it all the more jarring that Reputation’s lead track borrowed the melody from Right Side Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy,” a truly horrendous one-hit wonder.

Miss Americana succeeds at its primary objective, to take a global superstar and present her in a relatable fashion. She’s one of the most successful musicians in history, but also a human being. Society may not want those two versions of Taylor to co-exist, but people need growth to sustain themselves. Taylor Swift may have it all, but the film proves just how hungry she is for more.

Friday

24

January 2020

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Sundance Review: Cuties

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The desire to rebel is a natural instinct for many children. To be told what not to do tends to fuel an inherent urge to push back against authority. Set in France, Maïmouna Doucouré’s Cuties demonstrates the universality of these themes, transcending language and culture.

Amy (Fathia Youssouf) is a fairly rebellious eleven-year-old, discontent with the strict rules in her household. The circumstances make it hard to blame her. Her mother Miriam (Maïmouna Gueye) is a hard-working parent struggling to raise three children while her husband pursues a second marriage in Senegal. Miriam is a compassionate woman who played by the rules of tradition, with seemingly little to show for it.

A group of girls who dub themselves the “cuties” attract Amy’s interest with their elaborate dance routines. Eager to join their clique, Amy starts to deviate from the guidelines set before her. A stolen cellphone provides Amy with valuable cultural capital, as well as a glimpse of the broader world she’d been sheltered from.

Doucouré is quite skilled at conveying emotion, capturing the highs and lows of adolescence in a way that speaks to the universality of growing up. Cuties is often hilarious. The young talent are superb at drawing laughs from subtle moments that are easy to relate to.

Though many have not had to experience the idea of having a second wife move into one’s already-cramped apartment, Cuties touches on themes that are quite popular in American cinema. Amy’s father is not shown to be a great guy, and the adults in her life struggle to help Amy copes with this harsh reality. Earlier eras put up with that stuff in a way that simply isn’t appealing to a younger demographic that’s experienced a world outside the strict confines of religion.

Which isn’t to say that Amy is some misunderstood angel. Like many eleven-year-olds, she’s prone to behaving like a brat. Doucouré captures this trajectory in a powerful way largely through Amy’s relationship with her mother. American family sitcoms are filled with predictable teaching moments at the end of their episodes. Cuties follows similar arcs, but shakes things up in a refreshing manner, dealing with reality rather than a “mom knows best” outcome.

Cuties captures adolescence life in a deeply moving manner. The film is very well-crafted with a keen sense of pacing, packing quite a lot into a ninety-minute runtime. Doucouré fully understands what it’s like to be a kid and an adult, delivering a compassionate family narrative that respects both sides of the equation.

Tuesday

21

January 2020

0

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Sundance Review: Jumbo

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For years, the discussion around gay marriage included plenty of preposterous claims such as allowing gay people to wed would lead to individuals wanting to marry their pets or their cars. Similar outlandishness follows the fight for transgender rights, as “jokes” about people wanting to identify as attack helicopters or penguins are made on a daily basis even to this day. In her debut feature Jumbo, Belgian director Zoé Wittock pursues a similar line of thinking in a surrealistic take on the meaning of love.

Jeanne (Noémie Merlant) is a creative young woman who’s happiest in her thoughts. She works the graveyard shift at a local amusement park and builds elaborate models in her free time. Her mother Margarette (Emmanuelle Bercot), a bartender, is troubled by Jeanne’s lack of drive, particularly with regard to her romantic life. Margarette herself enjoys a healthy sex life, especially with a new partner Hubert (Sam Louwyck).

A new attraction at the park catches Jeanne’s interest, much to the chagrin of her boss Marc (Bastien Bouillon), who pursues her romantically. Unfortunately for Marc, Jeanne’s heart belongs to a Tilt-A-Whirl ride, with its bright lights and mechanical spinning prowess. Dubbed “Jumbo” by Jeanne, she pays special attention to the ride during her shifts, making sure his lights are in tip-top shape.

Jumbo is the kind of film that works best when it skirts the lines of reality. Wittiock includes many beautiful sequences where Jeanne quite literally loses herself in the grandeur of Jumbo. The cinematography is spectacular, using light and color to convey meaning in the absence of words. Wittock appeals to all the senses in her efforts to convey a very peculiar kind of love.

Merlant is spectacular as Jeanne, capturing the essences of emotions foreign to many. She fully sells Jeanne’s emotion, as absolutely ridiculous as that sounds. Her performance sets the terms for the audience’s engagement with the narrative, presenting Jeanne not as someone who should be pitied, but rather appreciated for the way she holds her ground in the face of relentless opposition.

The supporting cast is also superb. Louwyck in particular stands out as Hubert, taking what could easily have been a throwaway role and transforming the character into someone with remarkable depth. As Margarette, Bercot puts forth an authentic portrayal of what any mother might struggle with in such a position, with happiness and reality existing in stark contrast to each other.

Perhaps the only point of critique for Jumbo is the absence of a broader sense of rationale behind Jeanne’s behavior. For a film with such an intimate scope, it’s understandable that there wasn’t much backstory, but there’s a lot of questions that the audience is left with by the end of the narrative. Film cannot present a complete portrait of a person’s life, but there’s so much to Jeanne lingering beneath the surface that supplies much food for thought afterward.

Jumbo takes an absurd premise and fully commits to presenting a heartfelt story. It’s easy to laugh at the idea of a person falling in love with a machine. Rather than make a mockery of the subject, Wittock finds beauty in the unexplainable.

Tuesday

21

January 2020

0

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Sundance Review: Yalda, a Night for Forgiveness

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Films like Yalda, a Night for Forgiveness shine a light on the complexities of justice. The idea of an “eye for an eye” is frowned upon in most societies, even Iran, where the practice is allowed. To beg for forgiveness under those conditions is to strike at the heart of humanity, mercy and vengeance existing at polar opposites.

Maryam (Sadaf Asgari) has been sentenced to death for the accidental murder of her much older husband Nassar. Her fate lies in the hands of Nassar’s daughter Mona (Behnaz Jafari), herself old enough to be Maryam’s mother, who alone can choose to sentence her to death or spare her life. Further complicating matters is the fact that Maryam’s fate will be decided on live television.

The film takes place almost entirely on the set where the reality show is filmed, where millions of people are watching to see whether Maryam will live or die. The audience themselves can play a role, texting their own verdicts to the show, the results of which could determine if the program’s sponsors will pay the blood money owed to Nassar’s family. A young woman’s fate decided in a similar fashion as American Idol.

Yalda, a Night for Forgiveness is a powerful film, striking at the heart of humanity through a jaded modern lens. The idea of a reality show determining a woman’s fate feels sickening, yet the film depicts the show in a compassionate manner. The show’s producer Ayat (Babak Karimi) and host (Arman Darvish) aren’t bad people looking to exploit Maryam, but to play the system they inhabit in a way that satisfies all sides.

The film largely succeeds on the back of Asgari, who demonstrates her range as an actress time and time again throughout the narrative. Understandably, Maryam resists the idea of playing into this absurd premise of begging for her life on national television. That is, however, exactly what’s expected of her. Asgari’s grasp on emotion is gut-wrenching, casting a light on the horrors of her reality. She cuts right through any perceived glamor of show business.

Jafari also does a great job as Mona, a woman with understandably conflicted emotions toward the younger woman who killed her father. In the heat of passion, it’s easy to call for someone’s head. The film understands the fleeting nature of rage, leaving Mona alone and clear-headed with the stakes of her decision.

Though the film takes place over the course of a single night, director Massoud Bakhshi packs a lot of story into the narrative. The audience gets a pretty good grasp of the events that happened, largely through an on-air back and forth between Maryam and Mona. The show never lets you forget that it’s not actually a trial, but it often functions that way.

Watching Yalda, a Night for Forgiveness is often an unsettling experience. Showbusiness and justice are not typically thought to go hand in hand. Bakhshi is extremely effective at presenting the dichotomy between Iran’s traditional approach to punishment and the modern method of carrying out that practice on reality television.

Tuesday

21

January 2020

1

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Slamdance Review: Jasper Mall

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As films like Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Clueless demonstrate, shopping malls used to be a pillar of American culture, especially for teenagers. Mallrats succinctly captures this zeitgeist in its title. The world has changed quite a bit, with e-commerce wiping out plenty of shopping malls throughout the country. Jasper Mall is a documentary that showcases a year in the life of a mall on the brink of closure.

Directors Bradford Thomason and Brett Wittcomb have crafted a clever, quiet film about an institution in slow decay. Much of the narrative unfolds through the eyes of Mike, a former Australian zookeeper who serves as the security guard/caretaker for the mall in rural Alabama. The film does showcase some of the mall’s tenants, including a florist and jewelry repair shop, but this is mostly Mike’s story. He displays a genuine love for the mall and its tenants that’s easy to identify with.

The film does not spend much time trying to diagnose the root cause of the Jasper Mall’s decline. The word “Amazon” is never once uttered. In many ways, this makes perfect sense, as the audience is bound to understand the reality that brick-and-mortar stores face in the e-commerce age. The specific circumstances of the town of Jasper could have used a bit more exposition, though the film takes place entirely on the mall grounds.

The departure of two of the mall’s “anchor stores,” large retailers intended to draw traffic to the mall, has had an unfortunate trickle-down effect on the tenants. Without K-Mart or JCPenney, two retailers who are in severe decline nationwide, the food court and service-oriented stores don’t see enough customers to sustain themselves. Several stores close during the narrative.

The beauty of Jasper Mall is through its ability to retain an upbeat narrative while never losing sight of the inevitably bleak outcome. Mike constantly talks about various ways to draw traffic back to the mall. The film presents his voice without endorsing his words. There is almost certainly not going to be a great renaissance for the Jasper Mall.

The mall itself looks pretty terrible, the kind of place you might visit if you needed something specific but wouldn’t go to for window shopping. Thomason and Wittcomb are respectful of the fact that there are people, mostly older patrons, who have a sense of community in the mall. The death of retail is a slow process.

While Mike is the perfect lens to present the documentary, the frequent shots through the corridors do you leave you wondering about the many tenants that weren’t featured. This can be explained to a large extent by the presence of national brands such as GNC or AT&T, but the film only focuses on a couple stores out of the whole mall. For all of Mike’s charm, he does get a little repetitive after a while.

Jasper Mall is a moving narrative about perseverance in the absence of a future. Barring a total remodel that seems highly unlikely, the Jasper Mall doesn’t have much left in the tank. To many, that’s not sad, only indicative of the times. The documentary does an excellent job capturing the essence of those who rely on the dying establishment and what exactly they’re going to leave behind.

Tuesday

21

January 2020

0

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Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride

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Grab your motorcar and the deed to Toad Hall, we’re going a merrily journey to nowhere in particular. Join Ian & Tarabelle for an in-depth discussion of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, the most idiosyncratic and wonderful attraction in Disney Park history. While The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad served as a loose adaptation of The Wind and the Willows, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride largely abandons any connection to its source material.

 

From Toad Hall to Hell, Ian & Tarabelle cover the ride in all in iterations including the original 1955 version and both tracks at Disney World, where it lived in a certain silly old bear took over in 1998. We love Pooh, but it’s okay if you’re still a little angry about the whole situation.

 

For more Disneyland fun, check out our three part series ranking every ride at Disneyland, as well as our episode covering Galaxy’s Edge.

For more Mr. Toad, check out Ian’s Instagram, where she obnoxiously posts pictures with Mr. Toad for every single visit.