Producers: Jay Brown, Ty Ty Smith, Robyn Rihanna Fenty and Ryan Harris   Director: Chris Miller Screenplay: Pam Brady     Cast: Rihanna, James Corden, Nick Offerman, JP Karliak, Daniel Levy, Amy Sedaris, Natasha Lyonne, Sandra Oh, Jimmy Kimmel, Octavia Spencer, Nick Kroll, Hannah Waddingham, Alex Winter, Maya Erskine, Billie Lourd, Xolo Mariduena, Marshmello, Hugo Miller, Spencer X, Chris Prynoski, Johnny Manganello, Ryan Naylor, Kurt Russell and John Goodman   Distributor: Paramount Pictures

Grade: C-

The first two features (2011, 2013) based on Belgian artist Peyo’s irritatingly cute little blue figures were amiable but inconsequential live action-and-animation combinations in which Neil Patrick Harris played a human who helped out the little critters when they were threatened by the evil wizard Gargamel.  This reboot goes an almost full-animation route, except for a few sequences in which actual humans are briefly shown, though they play no significant role in the action. 

More importantly, as scripted by Pam Brady (who worked with Parker and Stone on the “South Park” movie back in 1999 and more recently was one of the scribes for 2023’s “Ruby Gilman, Teenage Kraken”) and directed by Chris Miller (“Shrek the Third,” “Puss n Boots”), it expands the Smurf backstory to explain that they’re the “Guardianeers of Good” throughout the universe—a pretty big responsibility to fall on such tiny shoulders (if Smurfs have shoulders).

Anyway, that’s relayed upfront by Jaunty (voiced by Amy Sedaris in an annoying Betty Boop whine), a talking book, one of four volumes the cabal of Evil Wizards need to rule the world and the only one free of their control—thanks to Papa Smurf (John Goodman), who has hidden it away and established Smurfville so he and his brood will remain beyond the prying eyes of the wizards too.

The movie then lapses into musical mode to introduce that brood in a big, insanely annoying production number, “Everything Goes With Blue” (compare with “It’s Not Easy Being Green”) led by Smurfette (Rihanna) and introducing a small army of individual Smurfs, each with his own “thing,” a special talent or quality from which he takes his name—thus there’s a Hefty Smurf (Alex Winter), a Baker Smurf (Johnny Manganello), a Grouchy Smurf (director Miller), and so on.  Most play peripheral parts in what follows, but much time is devoted to No Name Smurf (James Corden), a sad-sack sort who’s depressed over not having found his “thing” and so gets to sing a woe-is-me anthem (“Always On the Outside”).  Rihanna, of course, gets her own solo, the newly composed but stunningly familiar “Friend of Mine.”  No Name’s quest for a “thing” is a major plot element.

But it’s tied in with a kidnapping.  In the last movie, it was Smurfette who was snatched by her creator, the evil Gargamel, and the movie focused on her rescue.  This time, it’s Papa who’s taken by Gargamel’s brother Razamel (JP Karliak, who voices them both), and Smurfette leads a group of her fellow Smurfs, including No Name (and a droopy turtle voiced by Marshmello) to save him, and the world. 

If the last movie centered on daddy issues, this one hones in on brothers.  Razamel and Gargamel are at odds, the latter wanting a fraternal bond and the former solitary glory, and in the search for Papa the rescue team must seek out the aid of his previously unknown brother Ken (Nick Offerman)—apparently the “thing” business didn’t pertain in the older generation—who tells them of a third sibling, the courageous Ron (Kurt Russell), whose act of self-sacrifice will never be forgotten (and whose demise, of course, proves a temporary misfortune).  With Ken and his appropriately named daughter Moxie (Sandra Oh) added to the mix, the gang find their way through varied locales (be it Australia or a realm where Natasha Lyonne voices Mama Poot, the irascible leader of a tribe of fluffy critters called Snooterpoots) on their way to Razamel’s castle on the outskirts of Munich.  By this time No Name has found his “thing”—the ability to do Magic—and it will come in handy during the obligatory confrontation, which of course also has Smurfette proving once again where her loyalty lies.   

That confrontation includes a sequence, better in theory than actuality, when the dueling antagonists are rendered in a variety of styles (crayon drawing, old video-game form, etc.), including, oddly, a pseudo-anime pastiche complete with subtitles, which should really puzzle the toddlers in attendance.  It’s one of the scattered bits designed to give some solace to the adults accompanying the target kid audience, to which one might add a plea from Razamel’s brainy intern Joel (Daniel Levy) for a positive rating on LinkedIn.  But there’s also an extended thread that has Smurfette scarfing down the french fries in the parcel whose delivery they use to sneak into the castle.  Parents can expect their children to demand a stop at a fast-food franchise on the way home.

The playing-around-with-pictorial-styles is but one way in which “Smurfs” tries to look interesting—the blending of 3D characters with 2D backgrounds is another—but in the end the picture, with a production design by Max Boas, isn’t terribly interesting from a visual standpoint, winding up not much of an improvement on TV-level quality.  And while the voice list looks impressive, most of the starrier names must make do with just a few lines of dialogue (you’ll need to listen hard to catch Jimmy Kimmel’s tardigrade at the end).  Among the more prominent ones, Rihanna is bouncy enough as Smurfette, and while Goodman sounds a mite tired as Papa, Offerman and Russell are more vigorous as his brothers.  Corden does his best to make sappy No Name interesting.

Matt Landon has edited the movie well enough, though it feels much longer than its eighty-nine minutes, and Henry Jackman’s score does what you’d expect.  But in the end while parents may appreciate its messages about the importance of family, being yourself and working together in a good cause, “Smurfs” comes across as a mediocre addition to a franchise that was always more aggravating than engaging. Viewers of all ages are likely to get very fidgety before it’s over.                  

Producers: Tim Wu, James Howard Herron, James Harris, Leonora Darby, Mark Ward, Nicholas Lazo, Samuel Zimmerman and Emily Gotto   Director: Natasha Kermani   Screenplay: Natasha Kermani   Cast: Titus Welliver, Jocelin Donahue, Judah Mackey, Aurora Perrineau, Brady Hepner, Jonathan Howard, Fayna Sanchez, Corfeon Moore, Nick Epper and Larry Cedar    Distributor: RLJE Films/Shudder

Grade: C-

There’s a long history of attempts to continue, in some fashion, the story Bram Stoker told in his 1897 novel “Dracula.”  None has been particularly successful—the 2023 movie “Renfield” is a recent example of how bad things have gotten—and certainly none has achieved the original novel’s classic status, or that of the 1931 movie based on it.  Adapted from a short story by Joe Hill, Stephen King’s son, which first appeared in his 2005 anthology “20th Century Ghosts,” Natasha Kermani’s “Abraham’s Boys”—the Abraham being Abraham van Helsing, Stoker’s professorial vampire slayer—joins the unlucky pack. It’s a brooding bore about obsession and, believe it or not, poor parenting.

The story’s set at an isolated California farm in 1915.  Abraham (Titus Welliver) escaped there from Europe after the events of “Dracula,” accompanied by his wife Mina (Jocelin Donahue), the widow of Jonathan Harker who’d herself nearly become a victim of Dracula in the novel, and their sons Max (Brady Hepner) and Rudy (Judah Mackey), the older boy laconic but thoughtful, the latter more studious.  Both are sternly governed by their father, who spends most of his time in the study which no one else is allowed to enter.  Though the locale is a farm, little work on the land appears to be going on; Mina cooks and cleans, but Max seems to engage in almost perpetual log-splitting when he isn’t just roaming about gazing at the surroundings, and young Rudy mostly reads in solitude.

In Abraham’s view, the arrival of more people—a small town has sprung up nearby, and a railroad crew is busy mapping out the route for an extension that will invite further population growth—poses a danger.  Because of Mina’s previous link to the count, he’s certain that the vampire’s followers will use the lingering psychic connection to find them.  The thought becomes an obsession, and the abduction of a woman (Fayna Sanchez) walking along a road in the movie’s initial scene seems to suggest he’s right—or, in hindsight, that he’s perhaps taking matters into his own hands, right or wrong.  When one of the railway workers (Corfeon Moore) is injured and his sister (Aurora Perrineau) brings him in for treatment, Abraham patches the man up but with a feeling that a crisis is imminent.

The feeling becomes a certainty when Mina falls ill and even a blood transfusion from Max doesn’t help her.  Her death—and his sons’ increasing interest in his work—convince Abraham that he must instruct them in the gruesome work of killing vampires.  As they’ve discovered, he’s trapped one in a secret cellar, and she now serves as an unwilling specimen for them to practice on.  It’s unpleasant work, and though Max reluctantly complies with his father’s instruction, Rudy proves more squeamish. 

The final act sees Abraham growing increasingly demented, especially after a surprise visit from Arthur Holmwood, one of his old London vampire-hunting comrades, who begs assurance that Abraham’s beliefs about vampires are valid and their actions were justified; Van Helsing throws him out, exacerbating Max’s concerns about his father’s mental state.  When Abraham’s madness threatens Rudy and others as well, Max feels compelled to intervene.

Kermani and editor Gabriel de Urioste aim to create a mood of dark foreboding for this story of a father’s descent into madness, but the languid pacing succeeds only in generating a ponderous air, and while cinematographer Julia Swain offers some evocative shots of the California vistas even in the boxy 4:3 format the director has chosen (presumably as a nod to the 1931 film), the dank interiors of Steven Cirocco’s production design and Abbie Martin’s equally dark costumes offer little opportunity for anything but a tone of pervasive gloom.  Some ghostly apparitions of Dracula, in simple Nosferatu form, in the shadows do not elicit much alarm, and a couple of scenes with practical gore effects (like a decapitation) have the sort of absurd ghoulishness that marked fifties horror movies. Brittany Allen’s score, however, is effectively ominous.

The acting is part of the problem.  Welliver tries to strike a commanding presence, but he’s stiff, and Swain’s habit of focusing light on his unblinking eyes to give him a spooky look only succeeds in making him appear silly.  Donahue and Hepner mope around blankly, while Mackey is prone to overdo his big moments; and while Perrineau injects some energy into her scenes, they’re too infrequent and brief to make much of a difference.

The premise behind “Abraham’s Boys” has some promise, but the limp execution makes for a pretty dull drama.