“People need a villain to believe in,” says the snarky two-toned haired Cruella (Emma Stone). Based on the Dalmatian thieving megalomaniac fashion designer that first cackled her way through a 1961 Disney animated film, “101 Dalmatians,” and the 1996 same-titled live-action feature, this iteration of the character is caught between villainous madcap swings and heroic revenge. In this 1970s-set adventure, she forms a tight-knit gang of thieves; gains employment with the most glamorous designer in London; and struts and frets for an interminable 134 minutes across the London stage, only for a time, to be heard no more. Yet she never provides a reason for why the world needs her now.
Bursting with copious, unnecessary needle drops, chic Alexander McQueen-inspired costumes, and one-liners that cut with the accuracy of well-sharpened shears—Craig Gillespie’s “Cruella” is a dull overwrought origin story without an audience.
“Cruella” opens to a young Estella (Tipper Seifert-Cleveland) living in 1964. A precocious self-proclaimed genius, she resides in the country with her kind, sweet-hearted mother Catherine (Emily Beecham). Estella hasn’t found a rule not worth breaking nor a boy not worth punching. Her maroon-colored school uniform is lined with commemorative buttons and pins, her jacket turns inside out revealing an edgier white design. A wild child, she makes fast friends with Anita Darling (Florisa Kamara) and adopts a puppy, Buddy. Her shenanigans, however, lead to expulsion from school, forcing her and Catherine to pick up sticks to London.
Before they arrive at the metropolis, however, Catherine has to make a stop: She pulls in the driveway of a lavish mansion populated by attendees dressed in 18th-century garb. Though her mother asks her to stay in the car, making her promise to be a good girl, Estella just can’t help herself. She and Buddy sneak into the luxe residence, discovering a beguiling fashion show only to be chased out by a trio of rabid Dalmatians. Estella unwittingly leads the dogs to Catherine, who’s talking with a mysterious woman on a lightning-soaked cliff. In her panic, the girl not only loses her mother’s precious ruby-set necklace, but she also becomes an orphan.
That sounds like an entire movie, but astoundingly, dispiritingly, it’s not even a third. Estella does find her way to London, where she meets two child pickpockets: The annoying Horace (Joseph MacDonald) and the perceptive Jasper (Ziggy Gardner). She becomes part of their gang, designing disguises for bigger and bigger heists. In fact, in their adulthood, they even become a pretty formidable team.
You’d be hard-pressed to find a more deliberate pacing than the repetition of these overly familiar origin story tropes: Do we really need to know where the name “Cruella” comes from? Slowing the proceedings to a tedious crawl is Stone’s redundant narration. If you want a poster child for how voiceover can, ironically, lead to inarticulate storytelling, look no further than Gillespie’s film.
It’s not obvious what movie the director wants “Cruella” to be. Or even who it’s for. That indefinability certainly takes root in the protagonist—like her natural black and white hair she’s caught in an unwinnable duality. But also Dana Fox and Tony McNamara’s overblown script deserves some finger-pointing too. Where once they navigate Dickensian themes, Estella becomes a designer for the cutting, egotistical, nine-minute power napping Baroness (Emma Thompson), they meld “The Devil Wears Prada” sensibilities with a later revenge plot. None of the mature subject matter is particularly conducive for a child audience, and it’s difficult to imagine adults sans kids seeking out this dark fairytale.
So much about “Cruella” feels desperate: Nicholas Britell, a Barry Jenkins collaborator and cinema’s most preeminent composer, scores the events. Yet at every turn, there’s a needle drop. For a movie trying to commodify proto-punk looks to capitalistic ends, the soundtrack is decidedly not punk: Rather ELO, The Ohio Players, and Rose Royce fills out the sonic 1970s landscape (as does the worst use of a Nina Simone song, maybe ever?). As with his previous film “I, Tonya” Gillespie wants these tracks to pump up the audience when the onscreen action cannot. He fails.
Similar desperation seeps into the introduction of Artie (Jon McCrea). Billed as Disney’s first openly gay character, he’s a fashionable thrift store owner with obvious David Bowie vibes who befriends Estella. His purpose, as opposed to the indispensable Horace (a cockney Paul Walter Hauser) and Jasper (the Thin Lizzy inspired Joel Fry), isn’t altogether apparent. Rather the role feels ornamental. As do Anita (Kirby Howell-Baptiste), now a fashion reporter for a gossip paper, and Roger (the Iranian-English actor, Kayvan Novak), the Baroness’ piano playing lawyer. A diverse cast only matters if you can represent them as more than narrative tropes: The fop or the Black best friend.
What works in “Cruella,” you might ask? Firstly, Emma Stone. In no way, should any of this succeed: There’s a real case that her character is mentally ill. Her split personality: she oscillates between the nice Estella and the power-hungry, vindictive Cruella—is meant to demonstrate the ways women are forced to negotiate their personalities while navigating the world. Along with the British accent, which is really Stone dropping her voice an octave, the throughline is difficult to maintain yet she does so with gusto.
She and Thompson, moreover, have incredible rapport, and their dynamic fuels the drama when the drab script cannot. The caustic Cruella and the brutal Baroness form a turf war: The former devilishly crashes the latter’s lavish events wearing striking gowns, complemented by a wink and a smile. Jenny Beavan and Tom Davies’ sleek black and red costumes remind of “Vox Lux,” Catwoman, and Alexander McQueen: The stunning pieces mix royal regalia with mysterious eyewear. The most memorable being a dress crafted with newspapers and muted, trashy linen that form a long wind-catching train that defies physics.
None of the pluses, however, can support a convoluted plot whereby our protagonist participates in three separate heists to recover her mother’s necklace, emotionally pushes Jasper and Horace away, becomes a big bully, steals a trio of Dalmatians, and employs two other dogs—a one-eyed Wink, and her old pal Buddy—as accomplices. This film also relegates Mark Strong to nothingness as a suspicious valet. And while everyone involved is clearly having fun in this origin story, especially the cane-wielding Stone, I surely did not.
After a formless two-plus hours and an embarrassing mid-credit scene, the overwritten slog that is “Cruella” never gives a reason for its existence. Seriously, who wanted this movie? And never gives us a reason to ever crave more of it in the near or distant future. [C-]
“Cruella” arrives in theaters and Disney+ Premier Access on May 28.
