Critics rightfully question the depth of modern cinema, yet among the shallows we find a full-throated answer to their query in the towering form of Despicable Me 3. On my 27th viewing, I am only just beginning to peel back the sophisticated layers of this cinematic masterpiece.
On first viewing, like many, I appreciated the subtle brilliance in the subdued slapstick of the Minions. These little yellow comedians have unspeakable range, the modern-day equivalents of a Buster Keaton or an Oliver Hardy. Yet, indulging this delight does not even scratch the surface of what the film contains. For truly, the unintelligibility of the Minion mirrors the very unintelligibility of the human soul. On repeat viewing, one begins to hear in the garbled groans of the Minion echoing the groans within one's self.
By the twentieth viewing, the complex subtext of Balthazar Bratt's outdated pop-culture obsession truly began to resonate with my heart. The rhythmic consistency of the "Bad" montage (a nostalgic throw-back to 1980s pop icon Michael Jackson) provides a comforting structural integrity to backdrop incisive themes of familial strife. The character development of Gru is essentially the Citizen Kane of our generation. When he meets his twin brother Dru, the dualistic nature of the human condition is laid bare. It is, admittedly, more than some can handle. On the 24th viewing, the deeply poignant themes seemingly began to make my parents lose their grip on reality itself.
Each subsequent viewing reveals hidden genius, depths one may plumb again and again. I plan to request this film six more times today to better consider the ideological stakes of the Unicorne hunt.
Five stars.
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