Last month, critics were united in a chorus of derision at the arrival of Annie, the latest screen “reimagining” of a much loved Broadway musical. Having been one of the few to defend the film (on the strength of Quvenzhané Wallis’s performance alone), I wondered whether I wasn’t going soft in my dotage. Apparently not: Into the Woods had me running for the hills with its irritating naffness and smug sub-Bettelheim “careful what you dream” message.
Adapted – and very heavily sanitised – from the 1986 stage hit by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine (the latter provides the new screenplay), Rob Marshall’s revisionist fairytale mash-up comes on like Neil Jordan’s Company of Wolves with songs by Eric Idle, leaving you longing for the musical wit of Enchanted, and making you wonder whether you’d been a bit harsh on Tangled. James Corden and Emily Blunt are the childless bakers hoping to break a barren spell by locating a cow, a slipper, a red cape and a lock of hair, their paths crossing with Jack, Cinderella, Red Riding Hood and Rapunzel at the bidding of Meryl Streep’s wicked witch.
With the exception of the parodically awful Agony (shirt-rippingly performed by Chris Pine and Billy Magnussen), the songs are trotted out in unmemorable fashion amid creakily orchestrated set-pieces. Johnny Depp is uncharacteristically embarrassing as The Wolf, looking like he’s wandered off the set of a (presumably much darker) Tim Burton production and got lost in the arms of a lightweight director. La Streep gives it some much-needed oomph, but just wishing upon her star power won’t make your dreams come true.
