One trap that many movie critics can- and do- fall in to with all too much ease is judging everything they see the same way. Typically, this means that every film that receives a positive review must be written in such a manner that it is ingenious, multi-layered, complex, morally ambiguous, and (in the best cases, so they see it) utterly alienating to the average audience member. Something that is brave, bold, uncompromising, has a serious message, and doesn't rely on silly gags and cutesy moments. In short, most critics would consider a good movie to be a movie that is absolutely nothing like Despicable Me. This may explain why most critics are bitter, unpopular old men with inexplicably large numbers of readers. That is not to say Despicable Me is a masterpiece, much less that it's in any position to challenge the works of Pixar. But even if it doesn't necessarily deserve mountains of praise, if there's one thing it doesn't deserve, it's criticism.
This is somewhat ironic, because Despicable often seems to be begging for criticism: it subscribes to more cliches than a trench coated lone ranger ignoring the explosion he's walking away from; it occasionally resorts to cheap gags, though most of these featured heavily in the trailers, leaving the good bits to surprise viewers; and perhaps most deviously, it shamelessly takes advantage of human empathy. Aside from the comically cliched villainous protagonist Gru, the film's lead characters are a trio of undeniably adorable orphans. It's like an evil mastermind's equation for cuteness: spunky girl + bossy girl + youngest/most adorable girl x wacky situation - overly heavy drama = irresistable. See what I'm getting at? Critics are supposed to criticize that: it's formulaic, it's predicatable, it's stupid... right?
Thing is, none of that matters. What matters is that it works. Despicable subscribes to formulas, embraces them, and pulls them off better than any movie that pretends to be above them. Story wise things are kept similarly simple: Super villain Gru wants to steal the moon, he needs a shrink ray to do it, a rival villain steals the ray and the only way he can steal it back is with the help of three adorable orphans. He inititially sees the girls as little more than loud, hyperactive tools, but naturally falls in love with them in due course which naturally complicates his villain work. The film seems utterly unashamed of how basic this set up is, and instead places the focus on the characters: Gru's mommy-issues, the girls' adorable-ness, his henchmen's hilarity, and so on. This means that the actual story feels quite light by comparison, but that's ok; a story that's light and fluffy can work as long as we still care, and really, you'd have to be the most cynical person on earth to not care. Watching Gru play with (and mock) a finger puppet story book for his surrogate daughters is the sort of thing that would make you go "Aww," without restraint in real life, so why not in an animated movie?
Despicable Me is full of those moments; moments that don't beg for judgemental losers like me to love it, but for you to love it- you the audience member. Will you love it forever? Probably not, but like a grilled cheese sandwhich, the simple processed joy far outweighs the negative aspects, provided that's not all your intake. I wouldn't say this belongs in the DVD collection of anyone who isn't a babysitter, but anyone with kids or a fully developed heart should go out and see it as soon as they can. It's devilishly corporate, but (much like the little girls who seem unperturbed about their "dad's" evil occupation) genuinely doesn't care, and neither should you.
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