Like most good children’s stories, Coraline starts with a disaffected youth – Coraline Jones (voiced expressively by Dakota Fanning), who has just moved to an unfamiliar neighborhood. Her parents mostly ignore her, and the closest thing she has to a friend is Wybie, a neighborhood boy who skulks around in a welding mask. It isn’t long before she starts exploring her new apartment, and stumbles upon another version of our world – one in which everyone and everything she knows seems to be perfect – or is it?

The story unfolds through stylish, colorful, stop-motion animation that may remind you of The Nightmare Before Christmas. One gets the sense that each of the charming characters and creatures was molded to fit its personality, from Coraline’s long-necked, bookish father, to the generously proportioned Miss Forcible, an old lady who reads omens in tea-leaves when she isn’t serving taffy made before the turn of the century. But it’s the director’s use of 3D that truly sets this film apart. Instead of going for the cheap thrills (creatures and people erupting from the screen), Selick uses 3D in a more subtle manner, adding depth to each scene, pulling our eyes further into Coraline’s world so that after a few minutes, you’d be convinced you were watching a stage production or a pop-up storybook come to life. I’d go as far as to say it’s the best 3D film I’ve ever seen – and a perfect guideline of what all movies that make you put on those funky glasses should try to achieve.

And it’s clear that everyone had fun making this movie – when the inhabitants of the other world are showing off their charms to Coraline, there are few scenes where you won’t laugh, cringe (in a good way!), or gasp at some animated sleight of hand. Unfortunately, the narrative suffers in the face of all the eye-candy – the second act dragged on longer than it should, and it felt a lot longer than its 1 hour and 40 minutes. Since it’s being marketed as a children’s film, I might also add that it has its share of very unsettling (though rarely crude or violent) moments that gave me the heebie jeebies. I happen to like the heebie jeebies, and don’t believe in coddling kids, but if your little ones are prone to nightmares, consider yourself warned.

So, if you’re a Tim Burton or Neil Gaiman fan, seeing this is a no-brainer. If you’re not, you will still enjoy the raw creativity and imagination bubbling in each frame. And if you’re making 3D movies – let this one show you how it’s done.

Who wouldn't want to spend a crazy night in NYC? (Copyright Columbia Pictures, obtained from Wikipedia)

So – after passing the above poster in the subways all of last September, and much protracted curiosity and anticipation, I finally got to see Michael Cera’s new film – Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, about a pair of quirky teenagers who connect by means of serendipity, the chaos of the Big Apple, and (most importantly) the power of music. Though it wasn’t everything I expected, it had enough surprises and charming moments to make it worth my 90 minutes and popcorn.

The movie opens with Michael Cera’s Nick leaving a delightfully awkward voicemail for Tris (Alexis Dziena), his “sort-of” ex – vaguely attempting to bring closure to their mismatched relationship, even as he finishes burning yet another CD dedicated to her. His bandmates (“The Jerk-Offs”, though other charming names are later explored), convince him to join them at a gig on the Lower East Side, where he meets Norah (Kat Dennings), who, seeking to make a point, asks him to be her boyfriend “for five minutes”. So begins the tale, which meanders from the Bowry Ballroom to Union Pool, the East Village, Midtown, and back in search of a love, an intoxicated friend, and a band called “Where’s Fluffy”.

If I had only one word to describe this movie, it would be “awkward”. If I had another, it might be “earnest”. The former is definitely not always a bad thing – a good chunk of adolescence is all about awkwardness – spotting adulthood on the horizon, exploring your new-found freedoms, and (dare I say it) finding yourself. And at the moment, there are few actors other than Cera who perform so…awkwardly well. He manages to infuse his character with an array of lovable insecurities, which make you alternate between wanting to embrace him and shake him to his senses. Dennings is also reasonably good as Norah, who exhibits a pitiable codependency when not wielding her acerbic tongue. The two have a chemistry which is probably best described as “cautiously magnetic” – part of the movie’s fun is watching them slowly each other, drawing closer as the night moves on.

As for earnestness – the film strives for candor, but I greatly appreciate the fact that it doesn’t try too hard. Though these teens are pretty precocious (not one “adult” character in sight), they neither speak in a contrived patois of “cool”, nor do they act like miniature thirty-somethings. Also admirable is the fact that the writers, for the most part, steer clear of those two ancient cliches of “teen movies” – booze and uninhibited sex, and allow the story to develop more organically.

The film is not without its problems, though. The pacing is terribly uneven – whereas films like American Graffiti had strong plotlines that kept the ensemble cast on its feet, some parts of the film drag, almost as if the filmmakers decided to drop the cast and crew in the middle of the Village to see what happens. The dialog, while lovably awkward, is a bit sparse, and sometimes falls flat completely. When this happens, the actors stare at each other intently, as if waiting for someone to pick up the pieces of the scene. Also, the film’s two biggest costars – the location (New York in its nocturnal glory), and the bands (Bishop Allen, the Nellie Olesons, among others), felt woefully underused – as if tacked-on to the movie to give it more credibility.

Still, the fresh screenplay and the charm of the young cast make this make this romp through New York worth the trip to theaters, or at least the next spot on your Netflix queue. It will be interesting to see if this role (the uneasy adolescent) characterizes the future of Michael Cera’s career.

The Verdict: ★★★½☆