[7.5/10] It is striking, if not exactly surprising, how much this entree into the world of Disenchantment feels like Futurama. That’s not a bad thing either. With New New York alums in the writer’s room and on the voice cast, it’s no shock that there’s a similar irreverence, a similar cynicism, and a similar application of those twin engines of T.V. comedy into a series of fantastical gags and jabs.
Part of that just comes from the set up. Like Fry and Leela and Bender, Bean and Elfo and Luci are all bucking up against certain expectations. Bean’s are to become the dutiful princess her father expects her to be, and give up her loutish, guff-filled ways for the good of the realm. Elfo’s are to be happy all the time, to love his work, and stay forever in his protective elf kingdom. And Luci’s are to, well, cause trouble.
Alright, so not all of this new trio hate what they have to do. Still, even Luci gets walloped and whomped for his troubles, and is nicely poised to balance out this little triumvirate. Bean works as a main character, aligning with Homer and Fry as the lazier, dismissive, sauce-loving protagonist of the piece. Elfo works as a slightly rough around the edges, but much more naive and oblivious little sprite (not unlike Will Ferrell’s interpretation of his jolly brethren). And Luci seems set up to be the Bender of the group, the trouble-making foul up who leads the rest of the group down the path of his bad ideas.
It’s the kind of mix that served Futurama well for seven stop-and-start seasons. And like its predecessor, Disenchantment also populates its world with tons of amusing and enjoyable little side characters who help build out its world. Elfo’s vaguely Smurf-like group of compatriots were already a nice source of comedy with their one-job names and incessant chipperness. The members of the King’s court, from his political marriage adoptive family, to the straight man advisor, to his long-suffering servants all have promise as amusing bit players. And Bean’s runner up suitor has a Brannigan-esque overconfidence about him. In just one episode, the series gives you a sense of a wider world of personalities it can construct jokes with.
The pilot also gives viewers the sense of a wider world. Some of that is just visual. Disenchantment deploys the same cel-shaded mix of 3D graphics and 2D animation that Futurama did, expands it to create a whole miniature, storybook kingdom in which to set its fairytales. While the character designs are in the familiar Groening style, the golden hues of the landscapes, the thump and rumble of a gnome vs. ogre war, and the texture and detail in countrysides and enchanted forests make this Groening and company’s most aesthetically ambitious project yet.
Amid that visual splendor are enough minor but promising mystery boxes to keep the audience invested. Who are the mysterious hooded figures who sent Luci to torment Bean (and need to learn that fire is hot)? What happened to Bean’s mother? Why did her father remarry into a semi-aquatic family? Why haven’t elves or other true magic been seen for so long? And what made the elves hole up in their little walled community in the first place?
None of these mysteries are vital to the episode or the show, but they’re the kind of small but meaningful details, like Leela’s parentage and Nibbler’s origins, that helped make Futurama more than just a collection of knee-slapping gags. The sense that there’s machinations afoot, corners of this world that we don’t know or really understand yet, adds a sense of wonder to this universe even when some of the tropes, however subverted they may be, are pretty familiar.
To be sure, Disenchantment is playing with a grab bag of stock fairytale tropes and swords and sorcery references. As I mentioned, Elfo’s companions feel like a cross between the Smurfs and Disney’s Seven Dwarves. The neighboring royal family that Bean is supposed to marry into is headed by a lawfully wedded brother and sister, in a likely nod to Game of Thrones. And late in the cumbersomely-titled opening episode, Bean and company run into a Groeningized, cobblestone street-walking incarnation of Tinkerbelle.
But true to the show’s creative roots, it finds amusing ways to take the stuffing out of all these classic tales. While some of Bean’s rebelliousness comes off a little stock and forced, her medieval blended family has none of the joy or pure evil of the fairytales of old. The blend between sacharrinhe elves and Elfo’s whining “naughtiness” make for a nice equal and opposite setting to the sad sack Kingdom from which Bean hails. And even realizing the usual demon of temptation from fairytales of old as the fantastical equivalent of “that friend who always gives you bad life advice” is a canny way to flip the old setting on its head.
It also gives Disenchantment a clear throughline. Bean doesn't want to get married as the basis for a political alliance, rather than for true love, so she runs away. That will, no doubt, lead her to run afoul of both her kingly father, and the self-satisfied suitor chasing her, as she goes on a slanted version of a Disney princess’s “find yourself” quest. Elfo will almost certainly have to contend with the asymmetry between his desire to see the world beyond the elf den’s walls, and his utter unpreparedness to deal with the dangers that lurk out in the wider world, including his ill-fated crush on Bean. And Luci has some bigger agenda at play, but for now just needs to keep Luci making impulsive, semi-destructive choices that inadvertently get her closer to what she really wants.
That’s more than enough to spur a show for a first season, and give it places to grow for a second (and a third and a fourth, if corporate contracts are any indication). In its very first episode, Disenchantment takes a page from its futuristic forebear’s playbook, giving us a trio of characters throwing off the shackles of expectation, a world of mysteries and fractured takes on cultural archetypes, and if the humble, praise-addled peasants are any indication, enough laughs to keep the whole thing spinning like a waterwheel. Our first glimpse at the titular princess, elf, and demon isn’t perfect, but it’s a good start.
Review by Andrew BloomVIP 9BlockedParentSpoilers2019-08-16T20:59:53Z
[7.5/10] It is striking, if not exactly surprising, how much this entree into the world of Disenchantment feels like Futurama. That’s not a bad thing either. With New New York alums in the writer’s room and on the voice cast, it’s no shock that there’s a similar irreverence, a similar cynicism, and a similar application of those twin engines of T.V. comedy into a series of fantastical gags and jabs.
Part of that just comes from the set up. Like Fry and Leela and Bender, Bean and Elfo and Luci are all bucking up against certain expectations. Bean’s are to become the dutiful princess her father expects her to be, and give up her loutish, guff-filled ways for the good of the realm. Elfo’s are to be happy all the time, to love his work, and stay forever in his protective elf kingdom. And Luci’s are to, well, cause trouble.
Alright, so not all of this new trio hate what they have to do. Still, even Luci gets walloped and whomped for his troubles, and is nicely poised to balance out this little triumvirate. Bean works as a main character, aligning with Homer and Fry as the lazier, dismissive, sauce-loving protagonist of the piece. Elfo works as a slightly rough around the edges, but much more naive and oblivious little sprite (not unlike Will Ferrell’s interpretation of his jolly brethren). And Luci seems set up to be the Bender of the group, the trouble-making foul up who leads the rest of the group down the path of his bad ideas.
It’s the kind of mix that served Futurama well for seven stop-and-start seasons. And like its predecessor, Disenchantment also populates its world with tons of amusing and enjoyable little side characters who help build out its world. Elfo’s vaguely Smurf-like group of compatriots were already a nice source of comedy with their one-job names and incessant chipperness. The members of the King’s court, from his political marriage adoptive family, to the straight man advisor, to his long-suffering servants all have promise as amusing bit players. And Bean’s runner up suitor has a Brannigan-esque overconfidence about him. In just one episode, the series gives you a sense of a wider world of personalities it can construct jokes with.
The pilot also gives viewers the sense of a wider world. Some of that is just visual. Disenchantment deploys the same cel-shaded mix of 3D graphics and 2D animation that Futurama did, expands it to create a whole miniature, storybook kingdom in which to set its fairytales. While the character designs are in the familiar Groening style, the golden hues of the landscapes, the thump and rumble of a gnome vs. ogre war, and the texture and detail in countrysides and enchanted forests make this Groening and company’s most aesthetically ambitious project yet.
Amid that visual splendor are enough minor but promising mystery boxes to keep the audience invested. Who are the mysterious hooded figures who sent Luci to torment Bean (and need to learn that fire is hot)? What happened to Bean’s mother? Why did her father remarry into a semi-aquatic family? Why haven’t elves or other true magic been seen for so long? And what made the elves hole up in their little walled community in the first place?
None of these mysteries are vital to the episode or the show, but they’re the kind of small but meaningful details, like Leela’s parentage and Nibbler’s origins, that helped make Futurama more than just a collection of knee-slapping gags. The sense that there’s machinations afoot, corners of this world that we don’t know or really understand yet, adds a sense of wonder to this universe even when some of the tropes, however subverted they may be, are pretty familiar.
To be sure, Disenchantment is playing with a grab bag of stock fairytale tropes and swords and sorcery references. As I mentioned, Elfo’s companions feel like a cross between the Smurfs and Disney’s Seven Dwarves. The neighboring royal family that Bean is supposed to marry into is headed by a lawfully wedded brother and sister, in a likely nod to Game of Thrones. And late in the cumbersomely-titled opening episode, Bean and company run into a Groeningized, cobblestone street-walking incarnation of Tinkerbelle.
But true to the show’s creative roots, it finds amusing ways to take the stuffing out of all these classic tales. While some of Bean’s rebelliousness comes off a little stock and forced, her medieval blended family has none of the joy or pure evil of the fairytales of old. The blend between sacharrinhe elves and Elfo’s whining “naughtiness” make for a nice equal and opposite setting to the sad sack Kingdom from which Bean hails. And even realizing the usual demon of temptation from fairytales of old as the fantastical equivalent of “that friend who always gives you bad life advice” is a canny way to flip the old setting on its head.
It also gives Disenchantment a clear throughline. Bean doesn't want to get married as the basis for a political alliance, rather than for true love, so she runs away. That will, no doubt, lead her to run afoul of both her kingly father, and the self-satisfied suitor chasing her, as she goes on a slanted version of a Disney princess’s “find yourself” quest. Elfo will almost certainly have to contend with the asymmetry between his desire to see the world beyond the elf den’s walls, and his utter unpreparedness to deal with the dangers that lurk out in the wider world, including his ill-fated crush on Bean. And Luci has some bigger agenda at play, but for now just needs to keep Luci making impulsive, semi-destructive choices that inadvertently get her closer to what she really wants.
That’s more than enough to spur a show for a first season, and give it places to grow for a second (and a third and a fourth, if corporate contracts are any indication). In its very first episode, Disenchantment takes a page from its futuristic forebear’s playbook, giving us a trio of characters throwing off the shackles of expectation, a world of mysteries and fractured takes on cultural archetypes, and if the humble, praise-addled peasants are any indication, enough laughs to keep the whole thing spinning like a waterwheel. Our first glimpse at the titular princess, elf, and demon isn’t perfect, but it’s a good start.