Perhaps predictably, that’s what you get when you combine titular things like Tom Hooper and Cats. The former is an Oscar winner plagued by an unhealthy obsession with Dutch angles and the latter is Andrew Lloyd Webber’s long-running Broadway musical smash about feisty felines trying to sing their way to what may or may not be their version of Heaven. So uh, yeah, try parsing those two together and you get, well, this.

The result, Cats, is essentially just the stage show on the big screen, except weirder, scarier, cockroachier, and starring a bunch of really recognizable famous people covered in fur that never obscures their famous faces. Just because Judi Dench (“Victoria and Abdul”) has a fur coat over top of her fur body and her ears are on top of her head doesn’t mean anyone will miss the fact that it is indeed Judi Dench up there on the screen, breaking the fourth wall in an uncomfortably long close-up.

The same goes for Jennifer Hudson (“Lullaby”), Ian McKellen (“The Good Liar”), Idris Elba (“Molly’s Game”), Rebel Wilson (“Jojo Rabbit”), James Corden (“Yesterday”), Taylor Swift (“The Lorax”), and Jason Derulo, all of whom have a musical number dedicated to their cat character, but thankfully only one of which emphasizes Corden clutching his groin in a gag involving over-sized trash cans.

Making sure to cover all his bases, Hooper tries to further please those in the audience for which that moment will be the movie’s highlight by including another scene where a cat character gets smacked in the crotch, this time by a heavy swinging chain. If you’re tempted to say “meowch!” at the thought of such a thing, then Cats is most certainly the movie for you.

If cats getting hit in their hidden genitals isn’t your thing, though, there are numerous cat puns uttered throughout, some of which don’t even attempt to be clever (“Cat got your tongue?” is asked by one cat of another during a prickly exchange, leaving the recipient of that clever burn understandably speechless). There are also numerous scenes illuminated by a neon glow, as the cat-people prowl around the streets of a human-sized city with bright signage everywhere. The movie may be a visual representation of Hooper coughing up a hairball, but at least it’s a very colorful hairball!

One might also appreciate that, despite adding a bit of dialogue to ease the plot progression of the generally sung-through musical, Hooper and co-writer Lee Hall never actually bother to spell things out for newbie viewers. There’s a lot of talk about Jellicle cats and the evilness of Elba’s magically teleporting feline villain Macavity and the desire of all the cats to get granted a one-way ticket to the Heavyside Layer, but good luck making any sense of it that you didn’t already make of the stage show you either did or didn’t see.

In some ways, that’s part of the charm to Cats, both for the stage version and the big screen iteration. It’s all so damn weird and you’re expected to just go with it, accept that these humanoid cats belting out tunes as though the very fate of their species depends on it are so earnest about their plight because their fate really does depend on it. Of course, cinema both expands the potential scope and demands a stricter adherence to realism, neither of which serve this specific material particularly well.

There are multiple locations in this version, from an old theater to a well-furnished house to a milk bar (yes, seriously) to a barge anchored on the Thames, but the changes in scenery aren’t likely enough to swing any viewer from derision to delight on their own. The decision to justify the big-screen-ification of the stage show by going the digital route with the cat characters, though, is definitely enough to ensure audiences won’t soon forget the sights and sounds on display here.

The allure of a large-scale production from a director whose last three movies have earned their actors Oscars (“The Danish Girl,” “Les Misérables” and “The King’s Speech”) means that Cats faces the unusual position of attracting a big-name cast to play characters that occupy the visual space between cats and human movie stars. Putting everyone in motion-capture suits so that they can be awkwardly animated while prancing around on over-sized sets that promise to cause headaches for anyone attempting to comprehend the validity of the proportioning is certainly one way to make your adaptation stand out.

Perhaps the static sets of the stage and the need to rely on mere makeup and the power of the audience’s imagination really is the key to making this nuttiness work. If that’s the case, then why didn’t anyone tell Tom Hooper this before he embarked on such a questionable quest? Now everyone has catnip-flavored egg on their face and James Corden took a trash can rim between the legs for nothing. The various people involved who thought this was their (one-way or return) ticket to prestige and glory are probably eager to start pointing fingers of blame now, but it might do them good to remember the old adage: To err is human, to forgive feline.

But unlike other recent remakes that pilfer from the studio’s cartoon catalog, such as the soft-hearted “Cinderella” and surprisingly charming “Aladdin,” The Lion King affords no room for generous praise. This is as simperingly safe as anything the studio has ever done. No exaggeration. This is the peak right here. No other theatrically released Disney movie is as creatively bankrupt and woefully worthless as this one.

Quite literally, the only attempt to add anything to the frustratingly familiar experience arrives in the form of a fart gag and another fart gag, followed by one more fart gag. Just try to wrap your head around that. The most powerful movie studio in the world just sold you a nearly shot-for-shot remake of a movie that could easily use a bit of narrative tinkering here and there, only to break wind in your face a few times.

Other than that, this is just the same sequences, same lines, same jokes, same images, same music cues, same emotional beats, only with the original’s occasional eccentricities excised in favor of bland blather. Musical numbers lack color (“Can’t Wait to Be King”), flavor (“Be Prepared”), or even the proper time of day (“Can You Feel the Love Tonight?”), but they’re all there and all inferior. The characters are mostly the same, except every performance serves only to highlight how much better the original cast was. Even returnee James Earl Jones is worse this time around!

Jeremy Irons’ velvety drawl is most missed whenever villain Scar appears on screen, but the absence of Nathan Lane, Ernie Sabella, Whoopi Goldberg, Cheech Marin, Jim Cummings, and Matthew Broderick leaves a cavernous hole. Jeff Nathanson’s corpse of a script seems to recognize the role each character played in the original movie, but it becomes hopelessly lost the moment it steps a mere inch outside the strict boundaries of the 1994 pic’s template.

So, the hungry hyenas that were such riotous comic relief in the original movie are still comic relief now, only they’re extremely unfunny and dull since the obsessively photorealistic approach to the characters so significantly cuts down on their potential for silliness. They’re meant to be more menacing instead, but as with everything and everyone else, this new take results in pure boredom.

Other attempts at humor fall short too. Robbed of his more theatrical showman personality, Timon (now voiced by Billy Eichner, “Most Likely to Murder”) is an irritant spouting the same lines that Lane made sing in the original. His sidekick, the wiry warthog named Pumbaa (voiced by Seth Rogen, “Long Shot”), is responsible for the aforementioned farting, so you can imagine how I feel about this new version. But the issue runs much deeper because there’s a jovial innocence to Sabella’s original voice recording that Rogen can’t capture and the difference is especially jarring when the character is so clearly supposed to flatulently follow in the footsteps of his animated ancestor.

This problem extends across the whole project. Everything contained within the movie’s frames is kept on such a short leash that there’s no opportunity to explore any new territory beyond a quick throwaway line or two, which clashes with the charmless casting. Insisting that the movie adhere so closely to the original, scene by scene, shot by shot, can only work if the new voice actors are up to the task.

Casting is usually director Jon Favreau’s strongest suit, but here he just painfully reaffirms how good the 1994 cast was and how little room they left for improvement. Photorealistic animated animals also have a lot less inherent personality than their more stylized counterparts, so there’s a gap in the fantasy that has a peculiarly deadening effect. Perhaps that explains the stifling stench stretching across this CGI savanna. And no, that’s not a fart joke.

It would seem like an updated, longer version of “The Lion King” could address how rushed the hero’s journey is in the original movie, wherein cub-turned-king Simba (Donald Glover, “Solo: A Star Wars Story,” in the new movie’s back half) is exiled from his pride, makes new friends in some jungle oasis, ages into an adult lion, and comes to terms with his tragic past all in a matter of mere minutes and mainly with the help of one montage-inspiring song. But when you’re crafting a carbon copy, you obviously bring the original’s flaws along for the ride.

Perhaps none of this matters. Disney already owns most of Hollywood by now and they’ll keep carving out the safest path to continue their dominance. “The Lion King” has long been one of the studio’s most popular titles, so the thought process is understandable from their perspective. Why mess with a good thing? Keep it all as Lion King-y as possible and the worst-case scenario is that fans don’t like it as much as the original. Big deal.

I offer a shrug of indifference then. We’re all just pawns in Disney’s bid for a media monopoly, sipping our sodas like morons as the ghost of Walt digs into our pockets for spare change. This is nothing new, of course. It’s something quite old, really. Disney has been very good at what they do for a long time and the past several years have been an especially towering high point for the studio.

Oftentimes, the House of the Mouse produces quality movies that are impressively cognizant of the company’s history and legacy. It is here that the roar of The Lion King is so empty, though. This is as straightforward and simplistic a plan to strike box office gold as any ever devised. It is never anything more than a glorified re-release fancily packaged to be freshly stuffed down audiences’ throats. It’s an invitation to waste two hours and get angry afterwards. Thanks a lot, Disney. In what could be a brilliant bit of cross-promotion, I can practically hear Dwayne Johnson’s delightful demi-god character from “Moana,” one of the company’s best movies this decade, calling out across the cinematic abyss: “You’re welcome!”

In their home, however, Todd suffered from severe separation anxiety and insisted on barking the entire day when left alone, much to the chagrin of their neighbors and eventually their landlord who gave them an eviction notice. Somehow they found an investor (no details given) and were able to fulfill their dream by purchasing 130 acres of land in Moorpark in Ventura County, California 50 miles north of Los Angeles. It was, however, a land ravaged by the worst drought in California in 1200 years.

In John Chester’s often moving documentary, The Biggest Little Farm, John and Molly transform the dry, drought-stricken patch of land into a viable organic and biologically diverse farm they named Apricot Lane Farms. Gorgeously photographed by Chester and four other cinematographers and supported by the music of Jeff Beal (“Blackfish”), the film shows how, with the guidance and spiritual assistance of consultant Alan York, an expert in biodiversity, the Chesters strengthened the health and vitality of farm soil and, over a period of eight years, planted 10,000 orchard trees, 200 crops, a variety of plants and animals, and 76 varieties of stone (pitted) fruits.

The family’s experience of living in the paradise of their dreams came to an abrupt halt two years later, however, when they awoke to the reality that they had unwanted visitors, commonly known as pests. Fruit was being eaten by birds causing the loss of 70% of their crop, snails were destroying the tree trunks, gophers were attacking the roots, and chickens were being killed by coyotes and workers had to use their time to pick snails off of trees, dispense with dead chickens, and, in spite of his ethical concerns, John was compelled to shoot a coyote. When their lows became very low, York was there to advise them to be patient, telling them that the ecosystem, like life, is cyclical and will eventually find its balance.

Unfortunately, York died in 2014 from a virulent form of cancer but John, mirroring York’s worldview, was able to get in touch with what he referred to as the “rhythm of things.” “Stuff that should have us running for the hills now? It’s just the rhythm,” he said. “Like, this is the year of the gophers, or this is the year of the tumbleweed, this is the year of morning glory. Some things you have to react to, but for many, you just have to stay really quiet, calm and watch.” After five years, by using insects, plants, and other animals to fight pests without having to resort to pesticides, the rhythm he waited for had arrived.

Bees eventually returned, owls tackled the infestation of gophers, guard dogs were brought in to keep coyotes away from the chickens, and John, through the help of the Internet, learned how to attend to sick animals. This especially came in handy when Emma, a pig they had nurtured over the years, developed a fever and refused to eat, becoming seriously ill after having given birth to 17 piglets. With the assistance of her litter of piglets, however, not to mention a rooster known as Mr. Greasy, John and Molly were able to bring Emma back from being close to death, enabling her to begin eating again.

While Apricot Lane Farms is not a small mom and pop operation but a multi-million dollar enterprise that currently employs sixty workers, it is clear that the Chesters (whose family has grown to include a little boy) are dedicated to the environment and the power of regenerative farming. “Farming, with its scale,” John said, “has detached people from how crazily magical this all is.” Though the issue of climate change is not openly discussed, references to raging forest fires point to the immediacy of the issue.

Beyond fossil fuels and greenhouse gases, however, The Biggest Little Farm raises fundamental questions about the nature of our relationship to the earth: Do we consider ourselves as separate from the natural world or an organic part of it? Is the earth important only for its utilitarian value, or does it have value in and of itself? Can we extend our compassion to include all living things? The future of our planet may depend on the answers to these questions.

The Lion King employs the voice talents of James Earl Jones, Seth Rogen, Donald Glover, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Keegan-Michael Key, Alfre Woodard, Billy Eichner, Beyoncé, Eric André and John Oliver

Official Synopsis:
The Lion King journeys to the African savanna where a future king is born. Simba idolizes his father, King Mufasa, and takes to heart his own royal destiny. But not everyone in the kingdom celebrates the new cub’s arrival. Scar, Mufasa’s brother—and former heir to the throne—has plans of his own. The battle for Pride Rock is ravaged with betrayal, tragedy and drama, ultimately resulting in Simba’s exile. With help from a curious pair of newfound friends, Simba will have to figure out how to grow up and take back what is rightfully his.

The Lion King protects the pride in US and UK theaters on July 19, 2019.

Based on a popular late 80’s vintage video game, Brad Peyton’s (re-teaming with his numbing natural disaster flick “San Adreas” leading man Johnson) heavy-handed and cartoonish movie adaptation aims to ignite the conventional “man vs. beast” theme in an empty-headed, formulaic sci-fi actioner that pits the bulky Johnson against a trio of mutated behemoths in a clumsy ode to the relentlessly cheesy, yet classically appreciated, creature features of yesteryear. Good ole cinema beasts such as King Kong and Godzilla (both of whom have enjoyed recent cinematic revivals) need not lose any sleep, however, because Rampage is simply not competent or captivating enough to stomp out their celebrated world destructing swagger. It is one thing to grab a joystick and mindlessly indulge in the fun of smashing buildings and bystanders as one of three giant creatures, but watching it play out via a razor-thin plot adorned with CGI overload just doesn’t pack as powerful an entertainment punch. But at least this disaster display does not mirror the sandy disaster of the insufferable “Baywatch” . . .

Withdrawn primatologist Davis Okoye (Johnson, “The Fate of the Furious”) is weary when it comes to his fellow human beings, but he certainly has a deep affinity for the animals he cares for and studies religiously. In fact, Davis’ “bromance” with an albino gorilla named George (whom he rescued as a baby from opportunistic poachers) cements that Davis has no real bonds with those around him and he and hairy pal George are tight and loyal to one another only.

Soon, the buff and bashful Davis and George will come to the crossroads in their friendship when something freakish happens that will end up affecting society as a whole. What happens, you ask? Well, the handful of screenwriters — Ryan Engle, Adam Sztykiel, Ryan Condal and Carlton Cuse — concoct a goofy plot that involves a mutated gene-virus-like specimen crashing to Earth from a super-secret space laboratory that ends up causing dangerous growth spurts to anything ingesting it while making those infected even more aggressive and confrontational.

And yes . . . you guessed it . . . poor George is one of the unfortunate targets subjected to this elaborate scientific foul-up.

Once his large amiable fur-ball friend, Davis must now tangle with a supremely super-sized and agitated George and figure out how to save his life. If only it were so easy — also joining George in the animal-induced rampaging are an equally enormous and angry lizard and wolf. The titan trio ruthlessly converge on the Windy City, knocking over skyscrapers and causing considerable chaos to the panicked people trapped in the monsters’ maelstrom of destruction. Cue Davis Oyoke — conveniently a former Special Services Army Officer — to save the city from these giant, violent animals (ones, if normal-sized, he would normally risk his life to protect) and figure out who or what is behind their affliction.

Aimless and cheaply roguish, Rampage sputters along in eye-rolling CGI excess and transparent action sets. Even as charismatic as Johnson is (an undeniable truth), he cannot quite overcome the labored follow-the-dots frenzy in this turgid teaser. The supporting characters feel like stock players along for the ride, solely there to add further fodder to Johnson’s character’s unconvincing angst. Recent Oscar nominee Naomie Harris (“Moonlight”), inexplicably trapped in this cornball creature caper, is thoroughly wasted as Johnson’s obligatory romantic interest Dr. Kate Caldwell. She is a woman trying to overcome her questionable testing tactics courtesy of her guilty association with the Wyden siblings, Claire (Malin Akerman, “The Final Girls”) and Brett (Jake Lacy, “How to Be Single”), two conniving capitalists who are pathetically posed as the genuine monsters of the movie. Plus, Jeffrey Dean Morgan (“Desierto”) slums as a one-dimensional CIA Agent Harvey Russell who wants desperately to be seen as cool.

In short, meant to sensationalize and capitalize on the giant monster film resurgence, Rampage instead plays out with the imaginative thud of a skyscraper brick crashing on a cement sidewalk.

The position of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service is to support “legal, well-regulated sport hunting.” For the hunter, killing an animal is a source of pride, a knowing that they are carrying on a tradition romanticized by Theodore Roosevelt and Ernest Hemingway. The goal for the hunter is killing as many of the “Big Five” — buffalo, elephant, leopard, lion, and rhino — as they can. The film shows, however, that there is no longer anything romantic about big game hunting. It has become a commercial enterprise where people pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for the right to kill the animal they buy at auction during yearly conventions. According to the film, the going rate for a 14-day, single elephant hunt is about $80,000.

One of the “good guys” in Trophy is John Hume, who runs the Buffalo Dream Ranch in South Africa as a sanctuary for rhinos. Home to 1,500 rhinos, Hume strives to breed two hundred new ones each year. Using a stun gun to tranquilize the animals and remove their horns without killing them, he claims that this action protects them from poachers who will kill them for their horns, which can bring in millions of dollars in some Asian markets. Unfortunately, however, he cannot legally sell the horns and complains bitterly about all the restrictions. Another of the film’s main subjects is sheep rancher Philip Glass (no relation to the composer). For him, hunting has always been a part of his life.

He talks about his love for the animals he kills, saying that the bible tells him that man shall have dominion over the animals, a passage he claims gives him a license to kill without feeling guilty. One can only wonder at the thought process that equates loving an animal with putting a bullet through its head. Chris Moore leads a campaign against poaching in Zimbabwe, trying to protect elephants, but we later find out that Moore works for hunters, earning fees that ostensibly support conservation efforts. The film maintains an “above the battle” approach, but occasionally reveals its point of view. One woman says that she does not mind killing crocodiles for handbags because they are so mean.

We see a different view of the menacing animals later in the film, however, when the camera zooms in the eye of a crocodile bound for transport that says all we need to know about the importance of handbags. If we learn one thing from Trophy, however, it is that wildlife hunting is a thorny and complex issue which does not lend itself to simple solutions. Even someone whose job it is to protect the wildlife knows that there are times when he has to kill an animal to protect the local people from predators or simply because there is a need for food. His feeling, unlike the exhilaration of the hunter, however, is one of sadness and remorse.

In one scene we see lions attack and kill a family’s livestock, an act that prompts the family to move its last cow into their home and also puts their own lives in danger. In spite of the moral ambiguity the film reveals, the fact is that wildlife populations in Africa are declining. Scientists believe that Africa may at one time have held as many as 20 million elephants; by 1979 only 1.3 million remained — and a recent survey found that, in the seven years between 2007 and 2014, the numbers plummeted by at least thirty percent.

Not only African elephants are threatened, but the population of rhinos and lions are steadily decreasing. The culprit is not any one group or way of life but a system that looks at animals as a commodity with a price tag, not as sentient beings whose life is sacred. In that regard, we can thank Schwarz and Clusiau for allowing us to look at the options that are available to preserving these species before they exist only in historical photos we will one day show our grandchildren.