I never understood why so many women thought George Clooney was this awesome fuckpuppy. He coiffed and arranged himself so that you missed his inclination towards pudginess and the blandness of his face. As Mr. Fox in the Wes Anderson film, though, Clooney gets the makeover of his life. Wearing a double-breasted corduroy jacket, sporting legs as thin as stalks of celery, Clooney looks positively dapper, light on his feet, and ready for anything — a fuckfox.
A few critics have complimented The Fantastic Mr. Fox for proving how Anderson’s talent lies in making real cartoons instead Crayola 64-colored live-action ones, but I won’t go that far. With an unevenly paced story and arbitrary character appearances and disappearance, this won’t convince anyone he can compete with the best Pixar films. What TFMF does at its best is merge the strain of cruelty in the Roald Dahl book with the collective inoffensiveness of Clooney, Meryl Streep, Bill Murray, et al’s vocal contributions; the result is an animated version of Ghostbusters, Ocean’s Eleven, or a Hope-Crosby picture, a bunch of fun actors using the nonsensical plot to tell a bunch of jokes and enjoy each other’s company. My favorite actor: Eric Anderson, the director’s brother, as Mr. Fox’s nephew Kristofferson, who plays a gay Owen Wilson with the voice of Topher Grace.