His purchase of a model ship revealing the cryptic clue to a 400-years-hidden treasure’s fate, Tintin finds himself menaced by snarling aristocrat Sakharine (Daniel Craig), then kidnapped with lionhearted fox terrier Snowy for the villain’s booty hunt on the open sea. That initial spirit of boulevard-meets-burlesque comedy, enhanced by Tintin’s haughtily inept detective pals Thompson and Thomson (Simon Pegg and Nick Frost), is a mere palate cleanser, of course.
(Even most purists will stifle objections, given the anecdote of Hergé’s endorsement of the director for this project upon seeing Raiders of the Lost Ark.) So we’re served notice that, while the script (by three Brit hands from Shaun of the Dead and the last few seasons of Doctor Who) affectionately mashes up three of the paneled 1940s tales, this is not precisely your daddy’s Tintin with his army of digital alchemists producing breathless chases by air and road, a fiery 16th-century battle with pirates, and chain-reaction slapstick, all within a world where the cartoonish denizens have some humanoid heft, Spielberg has clarified the quiff-topped hero’s identity as a careering European cousin of Indiana Jones. Starting (after a blissful globetrotting credit sequence) with a peak-era Blake Edwards vibe of Anglicized continental farce, this adaptation quickly finds the intrepid boy reporter (Jamie Bell) presented with a caricaturist’s portrait in his creator Hergé’s classic “flat” style. Fast on its feet, using 3D and motion-capture animation to kick its comedy-adventure into a superhuman gear, Steven Spielberg’s The Adventures of Tintin is a wittily kineticized adaptation of the internationally loved comic books.
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