Hong Kong Phooey
Release Date:
TBA
2012
The practice of reviving television franchises as a feature films is an entertainment phenomenon not unlike that of the straight cinematic remake. There will always be fans of the original incarnation lined up against it, and they will generally be outnumbered by those who couldn’t care less about the issue. Regardless of which side you’re on, history suggests that while the failure rate for these types of projects is high, there are more than enough genuine successes to make it worth the risk. For every hit like The Brady Bunch Movie (1995) or The Addams Family (1991) there may well be two or three misses like Bewitched (2005) or Leave it to Beaver (1997). But contrary to what the cynic may say, the movie industry is not running out of ideas – hundreds of movies are made in Hollywood every year and while most of them are new material, even the most original concepts are derivative of something. It’s just that under the right conditions it happens to be as economical to recycle ideas as it is to recycle plastic.
There’s often sound economic logic in trying to revive, remake or "reboot" a franchise. Even "low budget" films usually have someone’s reputation on the line and the process of nurturing a project from development to opening day is a complex and money hungry beast that’s harder to feed than an English Mastiff. So anything that can minimize cost and maximize profit is a welcome proposition. For these reasons and more, something you’ve probably seen before is made anew every year, whether you are aware of it or not. Animation in particular is ripe for this sort of regurgitation. Projects aimed at children have the benefit of a less discriminating audience and if you can hit on an idea that a child and their parents might find interesting there’s the potential bonus of added bang for your investment buck. So when the net is cast, the fisherman knows that few, if any brands bear animation properties ripe for strip-mining than Hanna-Barbera Productions.
Technically defunct since 2001, Hanna-Barbera was the home of such well known animated franchises as Tom and Jerry, The Flinstones, Scooby-Doo and many more you could probably name without my help. Boasting an eclectic stable of creations spanning most of the last century, chances are there’s a Hanna-Barbera title that you, your parents and your children have come to love and would pay to see. Some of the studio’s more aspiring television projects attempted to capitalize on the zeitgeist of a particular time period. The Flinstones was an unapologetic mutation of The Honeymooners. The Jetsons was an attempt to refashion the same idea for the Space Age. Jonny Quest was indirectly inspired by the James Bond franchise. And in the 1970s, as America began a love affair with Bruce Lee and all things kung fu, Hanna-Barbera made a rather campy attempt to capitalize on this, and they called it Hong Kong Phooey.
A series of Saturday morning shorts originally airing in 1974, Phooey chronicled the exploits of Penrod Pooch, a bumbling police station janitor. In a typical episode Rosie, the precinct’s dispatch operator, would receive a call and Penrod would overhear. Always diving into a nearby filing cabinet, Penrod would undergo a somewhat amusing and improbable metamorphosis into Hong Kong Phooey, a masked canine hero wearing a red gi and a droll grin. With his trusty (and infinitely more capable) sidekick Spot – a striped cat – Phooey would rush to the scene of the crime in his "Phooeymobile," prepared to battle the forces of evil. Usually, Phooey’s crime fighting skills were hopelessly inept and faithful Spot would lend a hand, subtly guiding his master to victory. This was always to the delight of Rosie, and always to the eternal suspicion of her boss, the ever crusty Sergeant Flint.
Each full episode lasted 30 minutes; the plots were simple enough for a six-year-old to follow and harmless enough for an adult to ignore. I vaguely recall enjoying the reruns as a toddler, but as I aged I came to view the show as somewhat callow and obnoxious. Phooey’s epic incompetence was occasionally amusing, but over time the gag grew stale, even by the standards of someone who drinks from a sippy cup. What’s worse, Phooey’s ham-handed interpretations of kung fu along with his car – imagine a pagoda on wheels – walked a fine line between clumsy, well intentioned humor and outright cultural mockery.
With all that on the table, you can see how Hong Kong Phooey may not seem an obvious choice for a film adaptation. After all, the show lasted only one season, outlived by the martial arts craze that inspired it. But that’s one of the reasons I’m mildly curious to see how this gets handled. Plans call for Phooey to be a mix of live action and CGI, along the lines of 2007’s Underdog. While this approach can return mixed results it will probably help keep costs down. For a film that would seem to have somewhat limited appeal, this is probably a wise move. Besides, Phooey’s stylized animation was crude even by Nixon era standards, almost making this approach a requirement. Any attempt to pursue a straight update of Phooey’s original animation would probably come out looking something like The Jetsons Movie (1990), and I don’t think anybody wants that.
There are a pile of writers attached to this film. This could mean many things, but some will immediately perceive this as a warning sign. I do have my own thoughts on that but at such an early stage, it would be unfair to speculate. However the most prominent writer in said pile is David Goodman, best known for his work as an executive producer of Fox’s Family Guy series. While it is safe to assume that Phooey is intended for young children, when you consider the increasing trend toward scatological humor in kid’s films I’ll wager that some of the less savory aspects of the hit Fox show may work their way into this film. But Family Guy’s mélange of coarse wit and random cold war era pop culture references make it a surprisingly addictive guilty pleasure - and I have to admit that Goodman’s attachment to this project probably gives it a chance.
There are also a pile of producers attached to this film. And neatly tucked among them is someone named Brett Ratner. Yes that Brett Ratner, widely reviled by movie snobs the world over for his gawky, controversial style. I have come to take a more balanced view of Ratner than some of my contemporaries, and many of them consider me mad for having done so. While many immediately point to the Rush Hour franchise and X-Men 3 as evidence of his cinematic blasphemies, I happen to think that these are all relatively well directed films. To me, their primary flaws are more complex in nature and like it or not, when a film makes enough money to start a new country it is hard to say that it didn’t do something pretty well. Some may still grouse, but I would at least point to Red Dragon as evidence that Ratner’s eye is more developed than many give him credit for – the man is no Spielberg but he does know how to direct a film. But what’s more interesting to me is that for the duration of his career, Ratner has spent a great deal of time quietly putting together a lengthy list of production credits. Some are more significant than others, but I would risk speculating that despite his annoying fondness for possessory credits, he’s aware of his need to grow and has tapped into a variety of projects as a way to broaden his palette. And whether you like him or utterly despise him, one of Ratner’s strengths is that he simply has a knack for getting things done – and in the end that’s really a producer’s number one job.
But all of this is academic, isn’t it? Hong Kong Phooey will be a children’s film and as I mentioned earlier, children are far less picky than their parents – and if your kids ask you to take them to this movie you will probably do it. Besides, if you’re over 35 there’s a pretty good chance you’ll remember the television show and agree at least out of curiosity. Either way, I’ll wager that a modest box office take followed by an equally modest return in DVD rentals will make Hong Kong Phooey worthwhile for someone, whether that includes you and your child or not. (Bruce Hall/BOP)
