In one scene in the musical comedy movie Lyle, Lyle Crocodile, the titular character was handed an inflatable croc he could use for his first-ever trip to the beach.
I howled with laughter in the almost-empty cinema. It was my only reaction in the entire lackluster flick, which I was forced to watch in the company of my seven-year-old niece.
Lyle, Lyle Crocodile — based on a pair of children’s books by Bernard Waber — is a cross between E.T. and Edward Scissorhands, and a bit of Paddington Bear.
Lyle (Shawn Mendes) is a magical, singing croc, raised and trained by Hector, a penniless magician (Javier Bardem), in the attic of a cobblestone New York apartment. Lyle never talks. He breaks out into a song-and-dance only when he wants to express himself.
When Hector — a kinder version of Colonel Tom Parker in Elvis — realizes that Lyle has paralyzing stage fright and he could not make a penny out of him, he abandons his reptilian talent.
One day, the croc finds himself befriending a young and depressed family, the Primms, which recently moved into the same Manhattan apartment. The mom (Constance Wu) is an unfulfilled cookbook author, the dad (Scott McNairy) a wimpy Math teacher, and the young son (Winslow Fegley), a school outcast.
With a singing voice provided by Mendes and a penchant for food scraps, Lyle dramatically lifts the Primms out of their depressive state.
Not once did I get emotionally attached to the mute Lyle, who looks nothing more than a wind-up toy or a sports mascot with a limited facial expression. He has zero personality, and we never find out if he ever wanted to be a performer. The singing reptile does not even have chemistry with either Hector or the Primms.
I didn’t care about the Primms either, whose forlornness is not explored enough for me to appreciate Lyle’s saving grace.
Then there’s the movie’s villain, a kind of mentally unstable neighbor (Brett Gelman) who harasses the Primms. His neurosis is not funny — and too complex to be understood by young audiences.
From the directing tandem of Will Speck and Josh Gordon (Blades of Glory), a screenplay by Bernard Waber and William Davies, Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile ends up as a tone-deaf musical, whose message is it only takes sweets and fatty foods from the trash bin to cure one’s woes, and the ultimate success is a showbiz career.
My niece, by the way, who was silent during the entire movie, reported later on that she did not have “feelings” while watching. Bardem playing against type is the only bright light in this dim, unstructured mess.
1 out of 5 stars
Still showing in select cinemas