Running time: 100 minutes
Starring: Glenn Close, Gerard Depardieu, Ioan Gruffudd, Alice Evans, Tim McInnerny
Rating 5 out of 10
Set three years after the first film, the sequel opens with Cruella languishing in prison for the attempted abduction of Pongo and Perdita's 99 offspring.
The former fur fancier is a changed woman thanks to months of intensive psychiatric treatment, which has conditioned her to feel nothing but affection for our four-legged friends.
Eminent physician Dr Pavlov (David Horovitch) is delighted with Cruella's progress and recommends her release back into society, but parole officer Chloe (Alice Evans) - a dalmatian owner herself - isn't fully convinced. Can a wily and devious dog-napper like Cruella really change her spots?
Chloe's fears are temporarily allayed when Cruella throws her financial muscle behind the underfunded Second Chance shelter for homeless dogs, run by kind-hearted animal lover Kevin (Ioan Gruffudd).
However, a bizarre incident involving Big Ben reverts Cruella to her old, conniving self and she enlists the services of deranged fashion designer Jean Pierre Le Pelt (Gerard Depardieu) to help her create the latest in hound couture. Only this time, she needs 102 of the little darlings, so she will have enough fur for a hood for her spotty coat.
Once Chloe and Kevin learn of Cruella's nefarious plans, they naturally vow to stop her, aided by their own canine charges - including spotless Oddball who desperately wants to be like all the other dalmatian pups - and a talking parrot (voiced by Eric Idle) who thinks it is a dog.
Retreading the same paw-prints as its affecting predecessor, 102 Dalmatians pushes the cute mutts and cartoon japes to the fore, adding a generous dash of pantomime villainy in the svelte form of Close's larger-than-life villainess.
Being cruel to be kind, Disney's spotty dog tale ought to have put down beforeit ever went before the cameras. Narrative logic is tramped under the foot of Anthony Powell's stunning costumes and Assheton Gordon's lustrous production design, which ensure 102 Dalmatians has plenty of eye candy to keep the little 'uns amused.
The dogs couldn't be cuter, especially all-white pup Oddball, and Close richochets about the screen chewing scenery as if she hasn't eaten for a week.
Unfortunately, the original film did it all so much better, and could at least boast an attractive romantic duo: Gruffudd and Evans are just so bland and uncharismatic. Like the party guests from hell, within five minutes of meeting them, you want to escape their company.
Depardieu tries his best to upstage Close with a performance so bad, you literally squirm with embarrassment whenever he waddles into shot. He begs for laughs by over-accentuating his French accent, so that the word puppy sounds like poopy. Someone throw him a bone before he hurts himself.
The former fur fancier is a changed woman thanks to months of intensive psychiatric treatment, which has conditioned her to feel nothing but affection for our four-legged friends.
Eminent physician Dr Pavlov (David Horovitch) is delighted with Cruella's progress and recommends her release back into society, but parole officer Chloe (Alice Evans) - a dalmatian owner herself - isn't fully convinced. Can a wily and devious dog-napper like Cruella really change her spots?
Chloe's fears are temporarily allayed when Cruella throws her financial muscle behind the underfunded Second Chance shelter for homeless dogs, run by kind-hearted animal lover Kevin (Ioan Gruffudd).
However, a bizarre incident involving Big Ben reverts Cruella to her old, conniving self and she enlists the services of deranged fashion designer Jean Pierre Le Pelt (Gerard Depardieu) to help her create the latest in hound couture. Only this time, she needs 102 of the little darlings, so she will have enough fur for a hood for her spotty coat.
Once Chloe and Kevin learn of Cruella's nefarious plans, they naturally vow to stop her, aided by their own canine charges - including spotless Oddball who desperately wants to be like all the other dalmatian pups - and a talking parrot (voiced by Eric Idle) who thinks it is a dog.
Retreading the same paw-prints as its affecting predecessor, 102 Dalmatians pushes the cute mutts and cartoon japes to the fore, adding a generous dash of pantomime villainy in the svelte form of Close's larger-than-life villainess.
Being cruel to be kind, Disney's spotty dog tale ought to have put down beforeit ever went before the cameras. Narrative logic is tramped under the foot of Anthony Powell's stunning costumes and Assheton Gordon's lustrous production design, which ensure 102 Dalmatians has plenty of eye candy to keep the little 'uns amused.
The dogs couldn't be cuter, especially all-white pup Oddball, and Close richochets about the screen chewing scenery as if she hasn't eaten for a week.
Unfortunately, the original film did it all so much better, and could at least boast an attractive romantic duo: Gruffudd and Evans are just so bland and uncharismatic. Like the party guests from hell, within five minutes of meeting them, you want to escape their company.
Depardieu tries his best to upstage Close with a performance so bad, you literally squirm with embarrassment whenever he waddles into shot. He begs for laughs by over-accentuating his French accent, so that the word puppy sounds like poopy. Someone throw him a bone before he hurts himself.
