‘Early Man’ Is a Very Funny Trip to the Past

My feelings about “Early Man” can be summed up as better late than never. I’m a little sorry that this utterly silly feature from Nick Park and Aardman Animations was not around when I was 7 or 8 years old, or when my children were wearing out the Wallace and Gromit videocassettes that someone had given them for Christmas. Not that anyone could outgrow this kind of movie, which manages to be fresh and delightful even as some of its jokes are so old — how old? So old that the last time I heard them, I fell off my dinosaur I was laughing so hard.

About that: In prehistoric times, according to Park and the screenwriters (Mark Burton and James Higginson), cave men and giant lizards shared the planet for a while. A bit later, descendants of those same cave-dwellers — a band of genial, not-too-bright hunter-gatherers in a verdant valley near what is now Manchester, England — coexisted uneasily with a more aggressive and arrogant breed of humans, who mastered metallurgy, stadium-building and sports commentary. “The age of stone is over. The age of bronze is here,” they proclaim as they drive the Stone Agers into the wasteland.

It would be pedantic in the extreme to fault this movie for its inaccurate rendering of the past. Did mammoths’ feet in ancient times walk upon England’s green and pleasant land? Does the fossil record contain evidence of a mallard the size of a 727? You might as well ask if there are La Brea Tar Pits in Scotland. As Bugs Bunny will tell you, there are no La Brea Tar Pits in Scotland.

But I would not go so far as to say that “Early Man” is entirely devoid of historical interest. Its structuring myth is the loss of Arcadia. A peaceful and authentic way of life is threatened with destruction by the forces of modernity, and the threat is resisted in a stirring and potentially tragic show of courage. The encounter between the simple, primitive folk and their more sophisticated would-be conquerors may remind you of Mel Gibson’s films. Park has essentially remade “Apocalypto” but with soccer instead of human sacrifice, “Braveheart” with a giant stop-motion duck.

Another way to look at this movie might be as an artisanal cartoon exploration of the story told by the Yale political scientist James Scott in his recent book “Against the Grain.” According to Scott (no relation to the present writer), the rise of states — of political authority, organized violence, accumulated wealth and everything else we associate with the advance of civilization — was a disaster for our species: a blow to our autonomy, our solidarity, our moral and physical health. Or, to put the argument in “Early Man” terms, we were happier when we were chasing rabbits instead of building monuments, fighting wars and paying taxes. The rabbits, all things considered, were probably happier, too.

The movie swears allegiance to that halcyon, carefree world, where humor is a matter of laughing with rather than at. The laws of gravity and the innate clumsiness of the human body are always good for a chuckle, and nobody really gets hurt. Dug (Eddie Redmayne), a friendly nincompoop with the usual Aardman features — a wide rubbery mouth holding a few blunt teeth; a narrow brow; wide, placid eyes — lives happily in an easygoing society with minimal hierarchy and ample leisure time. (The chief, voiced by Timothy Spall, is more camp counselor than warlord.) Dug and his pals are oblivious to the future and dimly aware of the past. Ancient drawings point to a vaguely recollected moment of origin, a creation story that the audience already knows (it’s the opening scene) and will eventually be rediscovered.

First, though, they must face the villainy of the Bronze Agers, soccer-mad imperialists led by a classic Aardman baddie named Lord Nooth (Tom Hiddleston). He has what sounds suspiciously like a French accent, though he answers — mostly via bird-enabled instant messaging — to a very British queen (Miriam Margolyes). His footballers are cosmopolitan superstars whose skills are as formidable as their egos. For reasons too ridiculous to summarize (and yet also absolutely persuasive), Dug and his mates must master the beautiful game and face off against Lord Nooth’s squad.

Does this ragtag band of misfits, coached by a renegade named Goona (Maisie Williams), stand a chance against a bunch of hot shots with flowing locks, fancy uniforms, and all the talent and training that Nooth’s lucre can buy? You tell me. The genius of “Early Man” is that it cannot possibly be spoiled. The animation is foolproof in its combination of ingenuity and obviousness, and the script obliterates the difference between a laugher and a groaner.

You might believe that you are too refined to giggle at even one not-too-naughty double-entendre about the fact that soccer is played with balls. You are so wrong. If you’re a Premier League fan, you might beat the script to a joke about “Early Man United” by a good hour and still laugh like an idiot when it arrives. I could write 500 more words explaining the semiotics of the big duck routine, and you would still be amazed by how brilliant and how dumb it is at the same time.

Just like us! Humanity, I mean, in our primal, primitive state, to which “Early Man” pays paradoxically sophisticated tribute. You remember how it was, before we got all snooty and fancy and mean: One of us fell down, the rest of us doubled over in mirth, and someone else made a picture so we could laugh at the thing all over again as many times as we wanted.

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Additional Information:

“Early Man”

Rated PG. Duck! Running time: 1 hour, 29 minutes.