It’s not often that animated films make it to Gladiators, but Rango gave me reason to pause. It’s not genius, and it’s not really unique: the overall theme centers on the quest for an identity, something that is often a dime-a-dozen in animated and live-action features alike. The computer animation is flawless, and the voice talents are quite solid, though the lines vacillate from mordantly clever (“I think the metaphor broke my spleen,” or “Stay in school, eat your veggies, burn any books that aren’t Shakespeare”) to pandering for a laugh from the adolescents in the audience (“I’m going to slice your face off and use it to wipe my unmentionables!”).
So, what is it about Rango that kept me highly entertained despite its often predictable moments? In truth, it might just be the predictable moments, and not because I’ve seen them rehashed in a dozen ways, but because the predictable moments are a conglomeration of scenes lifted from classic films about finding one’s self. In Rango, writer John Logan and director Gore Verbinski provide us with an anonymous thespian chamelion who, from the opening scene, struggles within his terrarium to give his character depth. More apt to criticize the tiny wooden palm tree, the mechanical goldfish, or the one-limbed, headless Barbie-doll-like co-star, Rango routinely dons different personas to avoid the glaring absence of his own. In a way, this character could come off as a symbolic slight to actors and actresses across Hollywood, but there seems to be less malice toward the industry and more of a general exploration of self happening here, regardless of whether we are separated from others by television and movie screens, or we have isolated ourselves in a metaphorical terrarium.
Luckily for Rango, he is freed from captivity and thrown into combat with his fate when God enters the machine and sets an armadillo in front of the car in which he and his terrarium are being transported. As the drivers swerve – unsuccessfully – Rango and his habitation break through the back window, and he is sent on his way to finding water and himself.
And thus begins Rango’s quest for himself and a journey through a number of homages to classic films, including but not limited to Raising Arizona, placing Rango in the shoes of H.I. McDunnough as he flees from the police officers; Apocalypse Now to the tune of Wagner’s Ride of the Valkeries, replete with machine gun fire and Robert Duval-like cowboy hats; the emergence of dozens of moles beckoned by a single leader in a reference to the original The Hills Have Eyes; the fellowship’s journey underground to find the source of the depleting water is very reminiscent of The Lord of the Rings; the wind-whipped ride of the posse in The Magnificent Seven; there are subtle references in style, dress – and one obvious tongue in check reference — to the Man with No Name from A Fistful of Dollars; and most notably, the major plot point in the film is lifted directly from Chinatown.
In the end, one could say this Rango is simply plagiarizing classic cinema and setting using it to give context to burgeoning animation. Perhaps they’d be correct, but the film is aware of its references, and, in a sense, offers an answer to the life / art imitating life / art debate by suggesting that there is no answer. Perhaps there once was, but the argument now is a circular one. These filmic moments, classic scenes, and our association of music and memorable lines to the world of cinema is no longer a subsect of counterculture or generational pop culture. Rather, these elements constitute a large portion of our culture, for better or worse. And, I only throw in the last part because we still don’t ever learn Rango’s true name. Rather, he dons himself with a moniker that he chooses impetuously out of fear. And, despite the fact that his illusory identity is shattered three-quarters of the way through, he retains possession of his name until the film ends.
