Producers: Dede Gardner, Jeremy Kleiner, Gabrielle Nadig, Nia DaCosta and Tessa Thompson   Director: Nia DaCosta   Screenplay: Nia DaCosta   Cast: Tessa Thompson, Nina Hoss, Imogen Poots, Tom Bateman, Nicholas Pinnock, Kathryn Hunter, Finbar Lynch, Mirren Mack, Jamael Westman and Saffron Hocking  Distributor: Orion Pictures/MGM Amazon Studios

Grade: B-

One glimpses the skeleton of Henrik Ibsen’s “Hedda Gabler” in Nia DaCosta’s “Hedda,” but it’s best to consider it an example of “inspired by” rather than “adapted from.”  Purists will blanch at what they’ll consider disrespect of a classic whose title role has come to represent an Everest-high challenge for actresses to take up; others will appreciate the rejection of the stilted style that fidelity to the original has too often entailed.  Though it has problems, DaCosta’s film certainly has flash and sizzle to spare.

That’s definitely true of Tessa Thompson’s vivid performance.  In DaCosta’s revamping, Hedda is, of course, newly wed to wimpy academic George Tesman (Tom Bateman), but they’re not living in 1891 Norway but 1950s England, where they’re hosting a grand party on the estate that George impulsively purchased when Hedda, on a date, expressed a desire to live there; the purchase was enabled by financial help from Judge Brack (Nicholas Pinnock), an old friend of Hedda’s late father, an impecunious general, but has put George seriously in debt, a problem that he expects will be resolved by a promotion he’s in line for.  That’s why it’s so important that Hedda cater to Professor Greenwood (Finbar Lynch), who controls the appointment and will be attending the bash along with his wife Tabitha (Mirren Mack), other academic colleagues, and a number of Hedda’s hedonistic friends.

Another attendee will be Eileen Lovborg (Nina Hoss), Hedda’s erstwhile lover, a recovering alcoholic and scholar in George’s field who’s written a book on sexual practices that’s become a best seller.  Before she arrives, however, her current partner, mousy Thea Clifton (Imogen Poots), shows up looking for her.  Feigning concern, Hedda dresses her appropriately for the party and insists she stay.  When Eileen appears, she’s carrying the manuscript of a new book on the future normalization of more permissive sexual mores that’s sure to outsell its predecessor.  She’s also become a candidate for the position George has based his hopes on. 

This is a recipe for a combustible evening, particularly when one adds to the brew Judge Brack’s obsession with the manipulative Hedda, and the party that results has vicious fun and games that might make you think it’s the precursor to those in Edward Albee’s “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?”  Backstabbing, betrayal, revelations and some gunshots are all part of the mix, with Hedda at the center of it all. 

And Thompson is at the center of the melodrama, embodying Hedda’s scheming with flair, and her inevitable downfall with intensity.  It doesn’t stand alone, however, being matched by the commanding performance of Hoss as the outwardly strong but actually fragile Lovburg; the change of gender from the play adds a new wrinkle to the mix, and Poots’s mousy exterior proves in the end no less deceptive than Hoss’s stern one. 

The men are less impressive, though Pinnock’s Brack holds his own even against Hedda with an equal penchant for stealth and strategy.  Bateman, however, is convincingly malleable as Hedda’s desperate husband and Lynch makes an insufferable academic prig—and cuckolded spouse. 

DaCosta suffuses the film with style—arguably too much, as she did her reboot of “Candyman.”  She exults in the dark interiors and lush, shadowy exteriors of the estate, courtesy of production designer Cara Brower, and in the luxurious period costumes of Lindsay Pugh. Even more notable is Sean Bobbit’s swooping cinematography, which swirls around the principals like a roving insect and indulges in tricks like Hedda’s glide toward Eileen as she enters the house; the effect works in tandem with Jacob Secher Schulsinger’s sharp but knowing editing.  Then there’s Hildur Guðnadóttir’s jazzy, percussive score, heavy on drums and xylophones with an occasional smattering of hushed voices, which acts at times like an assault on the senses.  

Purists will probably question, even deplore, what DaCosta has pulled off here.  But on its own terms “Hedda” is a gripping reimagining of Ibsen’s naturalistic classic.  Pity any student, however, who’s assigned to write an essay on the play and uses it as a pony.

Producers: Sonja Ewers and Mark Mertens   Director: Steve Hudson   Screenplay: Steve Hudson   Cast: Asa Butterfield, Joel Fry, Seth Usdenov, Rob Brydon, Tia Bannon, Jamali Maddix, Ryan Sampson, Fern Brady, Alison Steadman, Rasmus Hardikeer, Sway Clarke, Gemma Saunders, Paul Tylak, Steve Hudson and Ruth Gibson   Distributor: Briarcliff Entertainment

Grade: B-

The messages are familiar and the story beats derivative, but Steve Hudson’s animated film is antic enough to appeal to kids and engaging enough not to bore adults to death.  An adaptation of the 2011 children’s book by Guy Bass (with illustrations by Pete Williamson) that extended to six volumes, it has a tone that owes a lot to Tim Burton and the Aardman studio, with nods to Monty Python and even “Singin’ in the Rain” (the musical number “Make ‘Em Scream” is an obvious homage to “Make ‘Em Laugh”) and “2001” (an airborne tug-of-war scored to the Blue Danube Waltz, among other moments in Nick Urata’s score).

The plot is largely recycled too: it’s a pint-sized “Frankenstein” tale mashed together with “Pinocchio” and “Monsters, Inc.”  The movie is a co-production by a number of companies on both sides of the Channel, but its basic genetic code is decidedly British, most obviously in terms of the accents of the voice cast.

The title character is a shy little boy voiced with quiet, recessive meekness by Asa Butterfield.  He’s also technically a monster, the first successful experiment by the wild-eyed Professor (Rob Brydon) who lives in a castle the locals call Grotteskew (e.g., Grotesque) atop the tall mountain overshadowing the tiny town of Grubbers Nubbin. 

The Professor is manic about creating monsters, but shows little interest in them after they’re vivified.  Their care falls to Stitch Head, whose noggin, with the big right eye sewn on in a darker hue than the left and stitches across the crown, gives him his name.  He trains each new arrival from the laboratory to behave, introducing them all to what’s called “Almost Life” with a crudely animated movie warning that any untoward action on their part could rouse the humans below, ever fearful of them, to form an angry mob and attack the castle armed with torches and pitchforks.  Cowed by this, the monsters are all trained to be as docile as possible, ever aware that being conspicuous could doom them all to human assault.

But Stitch Head is no stern taskmaster.  He also comforts his charges, reading them calming bedtime stories while himself pining for some small recognition from the oblivious Professor, who’s obsessed with coming up with ever more outlandish design for his creations. 

Though Stitch Head seems resigned to his unfulfilling life, he’s wooed into the outside world below by Fulbert Freakfinder (Seth Usdenov), the rotund, greedy owner of a traveling circus whose collection of oddball sideshow performers no longer attracts many customers.  Learning from locals of their fascination with the critters in the castle, he approaches the place and offers Stitch Head an opportunity for fame and fortune.  And the boy seizes it, becoming the toast of the town: the residents all find the kid an absolute terror worth paying their shillings to see, despite the fact that he’s hardly a fearsome sort—all, that is, except for Arabella (Tia Brannon), a pig-tailed, lollipop-loving kid who finds little Stitch Head charming rather than terrifying, despite the fulminations of her monster-hating Nan (Alison Steadman). 

There’s a further complication in the arrival of Creature (Joel Fry), the Professor’s latest experiment, a lovably dim-witted fluffy lug who immediately latched onto Stitch Head as his “bestest friend.”  He volunteers to go down to Grubbers Nubbin and bring him back, though his disguise quickly proves useless and the boy is reluctant to leave his new celebrity life.  Fulbert meanwhile devises ever more spectacular tableaux to draw crowds, even as Arabella points out that Stitch Head is being treated more as a commodity than a person and Creature urges him to return to who he really is.

In the big finale the movie, which has for the most point modulated nicely between rambunctious and more heartfelt moments, becomes more manic, with the townspeople turned into that angry mob and the monsters encouraged to be themselves and reciprocate.  Of course that’s just prelude to a resolution that brings tranquility to Grubbers Nubin and the Professor’s recognition that he owes his creations more than Almost Life.

One can’t ignore the predictability and derivative character of “Stitch Head,” but that’s ameliorated in large measure by its geniality and warmheartedness.  The voice work is first-rate, with Butterfield the sweet innocent, Usdenov the maniacal manipulator and Fry the likable goofball; all the others are fine, down to those giving voice to the Professor’s bevy of nutty creations.  The computer-generated animation is overall excellent and sometimes quite evocative.  (David Nassar is listed as animation director.) Dieter Riepenhausen’s editing is nimble.  And the occasional songs, if not terribly memorable, at least don’t grate.  Even Stitch Head’s bit of rap is, as delivered by Butterfield, tolerable.

“Stitch Head” is no instant classic, like “The Nightmare Before Christmas,” but it will prove an amusingly spooky treat for families searching for some harmless in-theatre Halloween fun, complete with nice morals about friendship, tolerance, and being true to yourself.