Aladdin (the series) 20th anniversary: introduction

As I associate the Aladdin animated TV series with the waning of my childhood and the advent of high school and my teenage years – I was starting seventh grade when its original run on The Disney Afternoon and CBS began – it’s a bit unnerving to consider that this year marks its 20^th anniversary. In contrast, DuckTales premiered when I was VERY young (five years old), so having had it turn 20 while I was in my 20’s seemed natural. Aladdin, on the other hand, came into my life at a time when I was, 1), already involved in fandom (WTFB, represent!), 2), learning pre-algebra and how to write a history paper with a bibliography and citations, and, 3), not only knew what sex was, but was thinking about it a (a LOT). I've long accepted that even my undergrad years are long past, but 20 years feels like it's only been 10.

Serendipity saw fit to align Aladdin’s (and simultaneously, Gargoyles’ – not counting Goliath Chronicles) two-season run with my last two years of “middle school” (5th-8th grade) so that my childhood would go out with a bang. Yet, it wasn't just that I'd outgrown cartoons (or thought that I was supposed to ... obviously, that didn't stick) -- after that point, Walt Disney Television Animation would never again produce the kind of show that I'd liked since kindergarten, and still like today! Within a couple of years, adventure series with comedic elements were completely abandoned in favor of teen sitcom-oriented, Nicktoons-influenced approach. That considered, I'm going to make a controversial claim:  Aladdin was the last true, proper Disney Afternoon series. Unfortunately, for innate reasons, it's barely remembered as a Disney Afternoon series at all. Let me put it this way: once the Darkwing Duck comic book revival was a hit, amid the clamor of cries for TaleSpin and Rescue Rangers, I never made out one for an Aladdin comic.

The series was born cursed, the very idea of it alienating two important demographics: 1. As a direct spin-off from the movie, it would always be seen by the general public and fans -- whether they be old-school "traditionalist" animation snobs or little girls -- who preferred Disney's animated fairy tale feature films as a tacky cash grab and of inferior quality. 2. All of the “classic” Disney Afternoon series starred “funny animal” character, not the strapping, athletic young adult human leads in the Aladdin feature film, of the type typical of the Disney "Princess" features (as they were later retroactively branded). DuckTales, Rescue Rangers, TaleSpin, and Darkwing Duck. Thus, Aladdin looked and, on the surface, felt nothing like its furry and feathered predecessors. From my experience, the generation that grow up with the aforementioned series doesn't associate Aladdin with them. I will concede, though surely the perception of Aladdin first and foremost as a movie with a song sung by Robin Williams is a factor, that this rift is in part due to Aladdin having tailed the last of those four series, Darkwing, by two years; I wasn't the only one getting older.

Since I haven’t been derisive enough toward the little girl demographic and those of the parents-with-bad-taste-in-comedy persuasion (wink), I’ll take this opportunity to state that I belong to neither. And knowing who my readers are knowing that they know me, I don’t need to establish the fact that I’m a Disney Afternoon “traditionalist”.  Some of you know that I’ve long resented how the Disney Afternoon series (and the duck and mouse comics) are regarded by Disney, the corporation, as belonging to the lowest possible social class. So, yo might think that it stuck in my craw when one of the hoity-toity, “celebrated” animated feature film musicals first encroached on “our” territory. You might even think that I held something of a grudge over it to this day.

It’d follow, then, that you’d be surprised (in fact, I’m kinda surprised, now that I’m thinking about it) that throughout its run, the series hit just the rights notes for me on a very consistent basis. In fact, I welcomed the very idea of the series in late `93, when I first read announcements in trade magazines like Comics Scene of it being in production. I actually thought, “Hey, that’s a great idea, I bet it’s gonna be really good, and I’m excited about it!” In the run-up to its debut, I never lost faith in what I considered its promise.  In some ways, it more than lived up to my expectations, and I’ve maintained a soft spot for it to this very day.

Aladdin, the series, is the rare – if not the only – instance in which a spinoff or reboot, or whatever, of an existing property was done exactly the way that I would want it done and that I’d envisioned when I first heard news of it. (Sadly, I don’t think that the recently-announced Rescue Rangers CGI theatrical reboot will buck the trend any.) I consider it not a byproduct of the original movie that is remembered only as a blight on the legacy of the latter and of the Disney animated feature film in general, but a proper Disney Afternoon  comedy-adventure series just as good as any of its predecessors. With this series of episode reviews, inspired by Chris Barat’s ongoing DuckTales 25^th anniversary project, I hope to do the series justice and give a perspective largely absent from the Internet.

-- Ryan

What I've been watching: Richard Williams' Raggedy Ann and Andy: A Musical Adventure

I couldn't be considered an animation fan to any degree if I didn't know of Richard Williams' The Thief and the Cobbler, which he spent decades trying to get produced, persisting in the face of endless setbacks, but, sadly, he passed away before he could see it to completion.

However, until last year, when I was talking about Dell's Raggedy Ann and Andy issues of Four Color, I'd had no idea that a full-length animated Raggedy feature film had been produced in the `70's, nor that Williams had directed it. Intrigued, I tracked down a used VHS copy, as it has never been released on DVD.

Coincidentally, I finally got around to watching it the other weekend ... the same weekend in which I finally got around to watching Wizards. Coincidentally, they were both released during 1977, which I hadn't realized when pulling them from the shelf.

A children's film about toys that come to life is the farthest thing from a post-apocalyptic anti-fascist saga starring an elderly burnt out hippie a and his near-naked, overly curvaceous tart, right? You'd be surprised! (...or not, as I'm sure most of us realize that even cartoons that appear to be for children aren't necessarily strictly so). In the piggish Captain Contagious' abduction of the prissy French doll Babette, the Captain's lust is explicit. When he manages to capture her and take her away on his ship, one doesn't get the idea that it's to lock her in a tower where she'll wait for her knight in shining armor. 

The animation is absolutely exquisite, as you would expect of a master and perfectionist like Williams. Either heavy rotoscoping or heavy frame-by-frame "still-lifing" of live-action reels of performers executing the characters action. The effect is Fleischer-esque (which should be a no-brainer, as the Fleischers invented the rotoscope technique). (Interestingly, the Fleischers actually produced three Raggedy Ann and Andy shorts in the early `40's, which I also hadn't realized.) Most inventive and unorthodox of all is the stuffed Camel, who appears to have been modeled by two people under a sheet (and possibly with the front person operating a puppet for the camel's head) creating a frequent, very humorous lack of coordination between the Camel's back and front legs. I kept thinking, "When are they gonna take off the suit?!", and then would have to remind myself that in the world of the movie, no one's supposed to be under the suit -- that's juts how the Camel is! Similarly mesmerizing to the eyes, and I imagine was complicated in execution, is the constantly churning, convulsing, morphing in shape Greedy, a gelatinous, amorphous blob-like monster cursed with endless hunger. 

Those who are especially attentive to detail have noticed that I compared both this film and Wizards' animation to that of the Fleischers. As both appear to have been rotoscoped or modeled, I believe the comparison is valid. Raggedy is consistently as fully animated as anything ever done, while Bakshi's work is only fully animated in certain parts. Compared to the Disney features of the `90's, these `70's films will appear less sophisticated to the layman's eye, due to the excessive gloss and digital faux-three-dimensional effects that were the norm for the former. But such elements were just that: effects, and not really an inherent part of the animation itself.

Also like Wizards, the middle of Raggedy has little to do with the overarching plot. And in both cases, the heroes are tangled up in an isolated world with odd customs. The Looney Land and aforementioned Greedy episodes are delightfully, both visually and in terms of the canny, uncooperative, taunting Lewis Carroll-like humor. (Poor rag dolls, being the object of such games.) 

The live-action framing sequences, featuring the little girl to whom the toys belong (who I believe is played by Williams' daughter or perhaps niece, given the shared last name) are modest and appropriately limited, allowing nearly the entirety of the film to take place in the animated world/the toys' world, as it should be.

Here's to a DVD release, so that this somewhat forgotten film may earn new exposure and appreciation.

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ALERT!!! Coming soon to this blog: Something NEW!!! Something BIG!!!

-- Ryan

What I've been watching: Ralph Bakshi's Wizards

As a (pleasant) result of my decision to go without Internet service in my new apartment [see previous post], I've been able to catch up on some VHS tapes that I've bought used (and in some cases, very cheap) during the past few years, only to gather dust.

Though Wizards could be seen as Bakshi's test run for Lord of the Rings, being Bakshi's own creation, it has a more unbridled, inspired flair to it. It's uneven -- a lot of momentum is lost in the middle of the film, which is absorbed by a subplot involving fairies that doesn't seem to bear much relation to the overarching plot. The war-versus-peace, tyranny-versus-freedom, love-versus-hate theme isn't explored with much depth, and the use of (via live-action archival footage) of Nazi imagery is a lazy, obvious way of representing fascism. Nazism WAS fascism, of course; it's just not a very imaginative reference. I think that the idea was to shock the senses with some unexpected harsh reality and cause the audience to reflect on the horrors of modern history. But when the movie is ALREADY depicting a tyrannical force, the live-action footage seems extraneous and inappropriate.

Still, the integration of said live-action footage is technically innovative, even if the "dream machine" conceit is meant to excite drug-addled burnt-out hippies. The, er, buxom Elinore being scantily clad for the entirety of the film is pure Bakshi degeneracy, of the lineage of his "adult" films of the early `70's. Avatar's cigar-chomping, gruff smoker's voice, and lewd sleaziness may seem incongruent for a post-apocalyptic sword-and-sorcery palette, but unlike Elinore, he's not without his charms.

The animation is generally very fluid, with some spotty moments; though many a random isolated cel could be mistaken for an animated TV series like Thundarr the Barbarian or He-Man. This isn't a criticism so much as it an observation that the line between "full" theatrical animation and "limited" TV animation of decades past isn't as distinct as the animation community once acted as though it was. The sketchy, stylized backgrounds are appropriate for the wasteland settings. The character designs range from realistic human figures to cartoonish characters that are somewhere between Fleischer and Dr. Seuss (much like Bakshi's later Christmas for Tattertown). The still artwork used with the voiceover narration that introduces the film and recurs in interspersed "bridging" sequences are some of the most impressive, resplendent visuals in the film, blending both lush illustrations and especially careful, full renderings of the Fleischer/Seuss-esque characters.

-- Ryan

Transmission from Internet exile...

...well, partial Internet exile. Two weeks ago, I moved to a new apartment ... and I had Internet and cable service installation with Charter scheduled ... but I ended up cancelling the appointment, because, believe it or not, I realized that I was less distracted and more productive!

This hasty, overdue update is being posted at work. My plan is to update my blog(s) from the library right down the street from my apartment. I might be able to write and post a (relatively) proper post as early as tonight. *fingers crossed*

-- Ryan

Farewell, Egon -- R.I.P., Harold Ramis

Harold Ramis has passed away -- I heard the new this afternoon from Alex Jones, and was stirred.
Although until now never brought into this blog, as a child, I was crazy about The Real Ghostbusters, concurrent with being crazy about DuckTales and when I was first discovering Gladstone's duck comics. I liked the two live-action films, too -- the original was one of the first live-action films I ever watched in full, in fact. (I'm not entirely sure if it or Back to the Future came first for me.) My parents took my sister and I on a family outing to see Ghostbusters II in the theater, and I was so terrified by Vigo the Carpathian, I couldn't sleep for two weeks afterwards, with scenes from the movie replaying in my head all night. Looking back, the fact that it had that strong an effect on me is the reason I'm one of the rare individuals who prefers the sequel to the original.

I've always favored introverted, focused-on-singular-pursuit types, so it's a natural that Egon has long stood as my favorite Ghostbuster -- a role that Ramis defined, while Maurice LaMarche picked up the torch, holding it high for the duration of the animated series. (Ever notice how close his Egon is to his Brain?)

And let's not forget, Ramis didn't just perform in the two GB movies. He and Dan Ackroyd co-wrote the original, creating the entire franchise, and resumed their writing partnership for the sequel. A third movie has been in and out of Development Hell for nearly 25 years -- a few years ago now, it actually looked like there was some traction. Ramis in particular publicly expressed earnestness and enthusiasm at the prospect -- after all, the property was his and Ackroyd's baby. It is too bad that he never got to see it realized, as he was clearly looking forward to it.

I came across this on Facebook (not sure who created it), and found it poignant:

Of course, he was Harold Ramis, not Egon Spengler. He had a  long, full career that included many other projects, both as an actor and as a creator. I regret that I'm not familiar with most of them, and I don't mean to slight the rest of his life and work. But I certainly don't think that he'd NOT want to be remembered for GB -- after all, he was very fond of that particular one of his creations.

-- Ryan

Pulled from storage: Uncle Scrooge #315-316 (Nov.-Dec., 1998)

As anyone interested in reading anything regarding Disney duck comics most likely already knows, Gladstone II ended its run having reduced the line to just two titles, Uncle Scrooge and Walt Disney's Comics and Stories, but compensating by having converted both titles to the "prestige format". (WDC&S in Dec. `95, when the rest of the line still existed; US in Jan. `98, the month that began the era of the two-title line.) Gemstone would continue using this format for both titles for the duration of its run, so with all of Gladstone II's faults, this means of presentation was a legitimate innovation on their part.

When I think of Gladstone II, I, for one, think of constant reprints in WDC&S of the very same versions of Gottfredson stories that had appeared in Gladstone I's albums and in Mickey Mouse in Color and Donald and Mickey being loaded with those Goofy history stories form the Disney Studios. In truth, the "prestige era" saw marked improvement. That upswing is more apparent to me now, as I revisit them. At the time, a pall was cast over Gladstone II's final leg by the aforementioned disappointments, and by the scaling back to two titles and limiting distribution only to the direct market. There was a prevailing air of sadness to this era, at least in how I then sensed it. Gladstone was dying.

Romano Scarpa's "The Flying Scot" (1957) was separated into two installments between Uncle Scrooge #315 and 316, after which there were only to be two more Gladstone issues. When Scarpa stories had appeared a couple of years earlier in Uncle Scrooge Adventures, the 32-page format necessitated serialization. You'd think that the upgrade to 68 pages would be taken advantage of and we'd be able to read the 49-page story in its entirety between the covers of one book. They couldn't really expect the old "if they want to read the ending, they'll have to buy the next issue" trick would be necessary for the few loyal core readership that was left at that point ... could they? Still, I'm not going to complain about a long-form European story having made it to the U.S., especially with quality dialogue and coloring work. Even with Gemstone's digests, for my appetite, not enough of that has ever happened.

Like Scarpa's later "The Pelican Thief" (the only Scarpa story published by BOOM!, in Uncle Scrooge #308, with spiffy dialogue by Joe Torcivia and David Gerstein), aquatic birds -- in "The Flying Scot"'s case, just one -- are integral to the plot. Perhaps this apparent inclination can be attributed to the fact that Scarpa grew up in Venice. According to Wikipedia -- in both cases, citing very reputable-sounding books -- the only continent on which you won't find any pelicans nor sandpipers would be Antarctica. Thus, considering that he lived in a coastal city, it's not impossible that in a coastal city like Venice, sighting such birds was commonplace. Such a background may also account for the maritime settings and nautical trappings of this story ... Scarpa certainly isn't the only duck artist -- he most certainly shares Barks' company in this respect -- to work on such a stage, but familiarity with a locale similar to some of the settings in "Scotman" couldn't have hurt.

"Scotman" comes off as two separate ideas that Scarpa figured out how to fit together as one story. The first is the unexplained mass, worldwide (apparent) disappearance of sardines, which makes Scrooge's attempts to feed his adamantly picky  new pet "mop-topped sandpiper" VERY complicated, setting him and his nephews on a quest to solve the mystery and get some gort-dranged sardines, already. Why does Scrooge go to such lengths for this winged prima donna? Scarpa never makes that clear. The story begins with Scrooge recognizing that he's "been doggoned lonely these days", and in the same breath deciding that the solution is a pet. That's the entirety of what's disclosed here as to Scrooge's character motivation ... "take it or leave it!" Judging by the artwork, translator and dialogue scribe David Gerstein didn't omit anything in translation here. Why has Scrooge never felt this loneliness before? Why the sudden interest in a pets? Is he going soft? When he becomes aware of the massive obstacle to fulfilling the bird's dietary requirements, Scrooge is hell-bent on overcoming it, and never questions himself in doggedly going to whatever length it takes. This, I can accept -- once Scrooge commits to something, he comes through. WHY he committed to taking this spoiled member of the Scolopacidae family under his charge in the first place is what I'm vague on.

Believe it or not, there's an entire other component of this story (the second of the two disparate ideas I spoke of before) concerning a flying ship, the captain of which has been fated with a 300-year mission that, as he relates to Scrooge and co., is up in a few years. (Shades of El Capitan, except Danblane McDuck is not driven to remain alive for centuries not by greed, but repentance.) Huh? Where does this come in? It turns out that the tasks performed in deference to his mission -- with which, it's inferred, he was ordained by the will of an unidentified higher power -- are the cause of the displaced sardines. The explanation given is more logical and less contrived than you would think, given the blunt interjection of a fantastical, supernatural element into a mystery narrative that others -- Barks, for one -- would've resolved with perhaps an outlandish but firmly scientific explanation. Investigating rumors of a magically airborne and very elusive Renaissance-era pirate ship, discovering the ship, and learning of the captain's plight is a perfectly tailored premise that merits its own story.

In fact ... sounds familiar, doesn't it? "Flying Scot" predates Barks' "The Flying Dutchman" by two years, so no accusations of "ripoff" are justified here (in either direction ... I don't believe Barks was aware of the Italian comics at this point). Danblane McDuck certainly resembles seafaring McDuck ancestors seen in flashbacks that were part of two earlier Barks stories: Captain Seafoam McDuck in "The Horseradish Story" (1953), and Matey McDuck and Bo'sn Pintail (the latter being Donald's counterpart) in "Back to Long Ago" (1956). Though in terms of initial publication, "Long Ago" predated "Scotman" by nearly a full year, "Long Ago" didn't appear in Topolino until 1959, so unless Scarpa had an overseas subscription to Dell's Uncle Scrooge, he probably hadn't read "Long Ago" when he wrote and drew "Scotman". Now, if you and someone else, unbeknownst to each other, take Donald (or Scrooge without his whiskers and spectacles, which gives you the same thing as Donald) in pirate in the garb of a 1700's sea captain, odds are, the results will bear a resemblance to each other. Still, Danblane being modeled after Seafoam can't be ruled out completely.

At two different junctures of the story, a giant-sized panel (each occupying two-thirds of its respective page) heralding an entrance and reveal of the Flying Scot: 1. When first appears before the ducks; the second. 2. When the air balloon-borne ducks, now in pursuit of the Scot, discover it as they surmount the cloud that'd been hiding it follows. Despite Scarpa's dynamic, eye-pleasing renderings, these occasions come off as more silly than climactic. Maybe it's just me, but the preoccupation with sardines up until this point failed to build up much of a sense of intrigue. That state of affairs speaks directly to how using Danblane and his ship is a waste of their potential. For such a fantastical, otherworldly vessel and persona, it seems undignified to be steeped in something as ... dinky ... as sardines.

Not only that, but after a quick sequence in which Danblane captures the ducks and orders Scrooge to walk the plank -- which actually DOES play out a little nerve-wrackingly -- the story resolves in a completely anti-climactic way. Realizing they're related, the ducks and Danblane make nice, and he sails them back to Duckburg. The only saving grace is that Scrooge is actually even more excited -- having figured out where the sardines are -- about the sardine factory he'd bought at the beginning of the story, only to discover that it was doomed by the shortage (should've seen that coming, shouldn't he have?) now being set to turn a massive profit than he is about now being able to satisfy the sandpiper's palate. Donald and the nephews reacting with chagrin sweetens the deal -- it's the very same dysfunctional family that we know and love.

________________

Each of these issues contains a prime mid-50's Barks 10-pager -- "The Sagmore Springs Hotel" and "The Runaway Train -- each of white is plotted, paced, characterized, and drawn perfectly. His art is possibly at its most fluid and electrified here. The two half-page panels in "Runaway Train" are especially explosive. I also note that Sue Daigle's coloring for both is some of the richest, most subtle work of hers that I've seen. 

________________

It's getting late, so I'm just going to copy and paste the notes I made for the several European stories that fill out the rest of these two issues, possibly to be revised later:

#315:

“The Bungee Jumpers” (1993, Denmark) – Pat McGreal and Vicar. Not something you’d expect to see Scrooge doing, and an odd subject for a Duck story – certainly not in a Barks story, as bungee jumping originated in 1979. Vicar’s art is very much based on Barks’ and appears to be the very same world with little no updating, so bungee jumping really is an anachronism. Donald particularly deceitful and cruel (endangering Scrooge by making him think he has bad vision – that could really screw up the bungee jumping), but we have seen Donald stoop to such a low when greed or jealousy get in his way, in Barks’ stories. To see Scrooge embrace and excel at the bungee jumping is nice to see – true to form of the adventurous, industrious McDuck.

“Rain Dance Reversal” (Denmark, August 1998 – published very soon after by Gladstone in September `98) -- David and Larry Gerstein, Alfarez. Poor Donald? Poor Gyro! Gyro’s oversights and ultimate failure in “blowing away” the rain aren’t really out-of-character – Barks’ characterized as brilliant, but aloof and absent-minded, too. And though Gyro succeeds TOO MUCH at making the rain go away, things still work out for him in the end … unlike for Donald. Is neighbor in Barks’ stories? I know Barks had neighbor character, but same name? Very much in the Danish style art-wise – reminds me of Vicar. 

Figured out one of Gerstein's references: this song. (Makes sense, knowing he likes music from that era. And a wholly pleasant song it is!) The Internet makes this too easy.

#316:

“Celluloid Saps” (Denmark, 1994) – written by John Kane and Charlie Martin, American dialogue by David and Susan Daigle-Leach. Art by José Colomer Fonts– can’t believe that Scrooge is this gullible, and this taken by flashiness and spectacle. But good art, and story gets into full swing, once Scrooge is onto things and in pursuit of the bad guys, with the help of the “Viking” movie cast. Good use of the theme, with them “charging” the bank and such. Fine art – again, the Denmark house style. Kind of a hybrid of Vicar and Branca – flexible and slightly exaggerated like Branca, but renderings a bit closer to Vicar.

“The Curious Cure” (Denmark, 1995 – apparently, original title translates to “Home by the Sea”, which doesn’t translate well. It’s a rest home, but it just makes one think of a regular everyday house) – script by Russell and Brian Claxton, art by by Tino Santanach, American dialogue by Susan Daigle-Leach. Glomgold’s inclusion doesn’t go anywhere – I thought he was going to end up working with Scrooge and Donald in the escape. Donald is sharp-witted, focused, and ambitious – unusual, but nice to see. A good idea, and well-executed. Like the action sequences, especially the swinging from a higher tower window to a lower one.

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Were those coherent? As I said, revisions might be called for! ;) 'night!

-- Ryan

Rescue Rangers movie announced ... and it decidedly won't be a "MovieToon" ...

About 25 years ago, it was reported in an issue of Animato! -- and perhaps elsewhere, but that's the only place I remember in which this claim was made -- that the first "Disney MovieToon", DuckTales: The Movie, would be followed by a Rescue Rangers movie. This was appropriate, as DT was Disney's first weekday syndicated animated TV series, and RR was appropriate. However, Scrooge and Co. didn't farewell at the box office, and so Gadget, Monty, and Zipper were never to grace the big screen.

...until now. Learned the surprising news yesterday  from an DCF thread started by a member going by Jarred. His source is a firstshowing.net article. There's also a Variety article reporting the same info.

It has always seemed to me obvious how to due a Rescue Rangers movie: 1. Traditional cel animation, just like the series. 2. A straightforward action-adventure story with comic relief sprinkled throughout, just like the series. 3. A continuation/part of the series, with all of the same character designs, "set" and "prop" designs (Ranger Headquarters, the Rangerplane, etc.), and voices. 

If the MovieToon had happened, the movie I just described most likely would've been exactly what was made. After all, that was the approach taken with the DuckTales film. At any point from the mid-`90's on, however, if a Rescue Rangers movie were announced -- say during the era Recess and Pepper Ann -- it most likely be overseen by execs and creative personnel who wouldn't have had a thing to do with the original series, and was view it as an outdated, worthless anachronism. Thus, I'd be worried. Into the 2000's, as traditional cel animation became more and more outdated, such an announcement would have me even more worried.

Now, that announcement has actually been made ... and, I'm worried. 

It's going to be CGI with live-action -- so, most likely, the Rangers and other animal characters would CGI, and the settings and human characters would be live-action. From the sounds of things, it's being handled as a revival of an old franchise, playing to the nostalgia of children of the late `80's and aiming to introduce the children of the mid-2010's to it with something that will suit their sensibilities. From the comments on the articles linked above and at DCF, I'm not alone in dreading a movie in the mode of the Smurfs and Alvin and the Chipmunks atrocities of recent years. 

However, there's some hope. As far as it being a continuation of the series, we can safely assume that's out the window, picked up by the sidewalk cleaners, and in a landfill somewhere. Fortunately, the original series' entire premise -- a realistic world in which the animals have their own sub-world that the humans are completely oblivious to -- actually lends itself to an animation-crossed-with-live-action approach, provided that the filmmakers know where to draw the lines between the two worlds. CGI-rendered animal characters can be cartoonish enough but still realistic-and-three-dimensional looking where suspension of disbelief would work when it comes to accepting them as part of a live-action world. A Rescue Rangers movie juxtaposing cel animation with live-action wouldn't work, because there's too much of a disparity. It works for, say, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, because the Toons were supposed to be Toons. 

For this movie to be anywhere remotely good, but allowing for the CGI-live-action hybrid, this movie will only be remotely decent, provided:  1. The creative team doesn't go the Alvin and the Chipmunks route and trying to make the title characters look way too much like actual chipmunks, resulting in putrid, outright disturbing character designs. (I seriously do not have a clue what made those movies so popular.) 2. As mentioned before, competent world-building on the part of the creative team, with an intelligent, complete understanding how to balance the human world and the animals' sub-world. 3. a straightforward action-adventure movie with comic relief sprinkled throughout. Not a musical self-parody polluted with a bunch of pop culture references. If we get to the point where there's trailers and it were obvious that that's what the movie would be, I wouldn't even go see it. If it weren't apparent until I was actually in the theater, I'd get up and walk out.

Here's some visual aides. There should be action, adventure, and danger:

...adventure meaning that the Rangers travel to places that are so far away, it's really cold and they need to bundle up:

...and there should be enough personal drama between the Rangers to keep the hardcore fans happy. Like when Chip and Dale are really mad at each other (if the 'shippers have their way, because they're vying for Gadget's affection... which Chip would be the one to ultimately win, of course...):

Keeping my fingers crossed (kind of in hopes that this won't even happen...)

-- Ryan