And of his legend they sang-o…

I’m gonna get this out of the way right now, so there’s no suspense. Rango. Loved it, and not just because the title character has great taste in shirts. Kinda wanna have its little gecko babies.

Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, not to mention scientifically impossible in a whole lot of ways… but there’s a lot of the impossible going on in this movie, and it washes over you with the frenetic energy of the best classic Warner Bros. cartoons while somehow still remaining grounded in the earthy sensibilities of the Western.

If that seems like a paradox, consider the trope of the vision quest and its place in the mythology of the American Southwest. The idea of wandering out in the desert to find yourself could be said to be old as Moses, but this is our modern incarnation, so powerful that it even draws the imaginations of those across the pond to wander among the Joshua Trees or write scenes of peyote-induced madness. If you have any doubts that Rango is going to be more than just a run-of-the-mill animated Spaghetti Western, they should be dust in the wind by the 5 minute mark, if not before. At least by the time the titular chameleon, shortly following an accident that leaves his city slicker self stranded on the desert highways, has a conversation about destiny with a partially tire-flattened armadillo channeling Don Quixote, you ought to figure there’s a bit of a head trip a-comin’. And I’m not even counting the brief Johnny-Depp-meets-Johnny-Depp moment prior to that. If you watch, you’ll understand.

Rango is at once intensely self-aware, and gleefully chaotic. The characters are fantastically realized from a cross-section of Old West stereotypes poured into dusty, craggy animal form, in some of the best anthropomorphic achievements I’ve had the pleasure to witness. When the black hat rattlesnake makes his way into town, and you notice in the midst of his literally venomous monologue that a discoloration above his mouth bespeaks a Lee Van Cleef style moustache? That ain’t an accident. If you think a plot about lack of water has certain resemblances to Chinatown, there are scenes that occur where the filmmakers tip their hats to you and cheerfully admit, “Yup”. And while you might not be surprised to hear the obligatory Clint Eastwood Man-With-No-Name makes an appearance, the details of how he does are at once mundane, sublime, and deeply bizarre.

Rango is funny, and exciting, and brilliantly animated, and has a great theme song, but what I love most about it is that it recognizes the mythic power behind the Western and the wide open spaces where it makes its home, a frontier not just of body but of mind and soul. The story might be a familiar one at its core, but the dedication to that story and the realization of it are to be praised.

And all of that done without feeling a need to release the movie in 3-D. Lord bless ya for coming along, Rango… you were a cool, trippy drink of agua for a thirsty soul.