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Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel

Jason Lee, David Cross, Zachary Levi, Drew Barrymore

Hell is not fire and brimstone. That concept is a totally arbitrary one, conceived of by Middle Eastern people who lived in the desert. The worst thing they could think of is eternal heat. For the Scandinavian people everlasting torment was burning cold. Makes sense. Whatever hell is, if there is such a place, we cannot even conceive of it. In turn, all we can do is take the worst thing we can think of and increase it tenfold. Here are my ideas of hell.

Hell is a party that consists of over protective soccer parents and people who think that Sarah Palin would make a swell President.

Hell is an eternal car ride with my sister, mother, and ex-girlfriends all informing me why I am still single.

Hell is a Britney Spears essentials collection on an endless loop.

Hell is a perpetual Actors Studio with Ashton Kutcher.

Hell is a never-ending aerobics class trapped behind Rush Limbaugh on deep lunge day.

Hell is a ceaseless Scrabble game between Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson.

Hell is a world where Chuck Norris is a superstar with no sense of irony.

Hell is unending Playboy with it’s unphoto shopped centerfolds Kathy Bates and Rosie O’Donnell.

Hell is an interminable guide of how to get in touch with your emotions written by a Norwegian.

Hell is forever being introduced as George W. Bush or Sarah Palin’s former high school English teacher.

Hell is being the bikini wax boy on a very special episode of America’s Biggest Loser.

Hell is being a standup comedian on feminist night, at a comedy club.

Mainly, Hell is trying to think of something positive to say about Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel. Even the pun in the title is enough to make you grab a gun and put it in your mouth.

I find myself in the same boat as the old lady who always tried to say something affirming to her pastor. After one particularly bad sermon as she was shaking her pastor’s hand, could only remark, “Pastor, I really like the book you based your sermon on.”

I do like the origins of the Chipmunks. In the late 1950s, Ross Bagdasarian was a songwriter whose career was going nowhere. He had some minor success as a background actor, penned Rosemary Clooney’s 1951 hit “Come on-a My House” and a couple of forgettable novelty songs. Literally down to his last $10 after spending $190 on a variable speed tape recorder, with a family to feed, he was working on another novelty song called “Witch Doctor” when he noticed that increasing the playback speed made the voices sound squeaky, high-pitched and kind of funny. While kind of racist today, it told the story of a young man who consulted a witchdoctor about how to fix his love life. The witchdoctor responded with the words, “Oo-ee, oo-ah-ah, ting-tang, walla-walla, bing-bang,” which was also the chorus of the song. (The only two words that meant anything in the chorus was “walla-walla” which was the town in Washington where his favorite uncle lived.) Ross used the sped up voices for this part of the song. Using the stage name of David Seville, it was the monster hit of 1958. Kids particularly loved the song.

When you have a successful gimmick, you need to strike while the iron is hot, ride that horse until it drops, and then kick it in the butt a few times to get some more mileage out of it. Bagdasarian and his record company decided to put out something for Christmas for the kiddies a few months later that would have the same funny voices, but what kind of creatures sounded like that. They had to be something furry and loveable. Ross always thought the voice sounded like that of a squeaky chipmunk. Not only did the Eisenhower era, coonskin cap wearing crumble crunchers love “The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don’t Be Late)”, 4 million copies were sold, AND Ross won two Grammy Awards for the song. (The chipmunks were named after the three main executives at the record company: Alvin Bennett, Simon Waronker, and Theodore Keep. Remember children, butt kissing is an age old past time and a Martha Stewart good thing.)

Numerous songs and albums followed over the next half century. By 1961, Alvin and the Chipmunks had their own show on prime time television, The Alvin Show, one of the first animated shows on network television. Alvin and the boys sang The Beatles, did some Sid Vicious punk, and even surfed the new wave. Yet, Bagdasarian did not live to see most of this success. At just 52 years of age, in 1972, just three years after his last Chipmunks release, he died of a massive heart attack.

Yet, nostalgia is a hard thing to keep down. The children who had grown up with Alvin and the boys were having children of their own. Everyone romanticizes their childhoods and wants their children to share in that love. With Bagdasarian’s son, Ross Jr., at the helm, eleven years after those furry creatures had retired and gone into rehab they were back, the band was back together for the cash. CDs, cartoons, and direct to video releases followed. (I was hoping for the gangsta rap cd from the trio, but it has never come. I might actually pay money to hear Alvin, complete with pimp cup, tats, and grill, sing about his bitches and hoes, smoking blunts, and putting a cap in some pig.)

All of that stuff is fine and good. Much like Veggie Tales, Bible Man, Hannah Montana, and the purity ring wearing Jonas Brothers, I could ignore it, but then Hollywood discovered CGI. It became possible to bring all the mediocre cartoons from the studio executive’s childhood to life. First there was Scooby-Doo, then Garfield and Underdog, and next year, Marmaduke. NO MAS! NO MAS! I know that the first go around with the furry rats took in over $217 million at the box office. It was safe. Your kid was a moron. I get it. Please, for the love of God, we do not need a sequel unless it somehow involves Mary Kay testing her makeup by spraying it in Theodore’s eyes, Simon having a very special adventure with Richard Gere, and Alvin getting rabies.

I like Jason Lee. I really do. I thought he should have been the next Fletch. David Cross is one of my favorite standup comedians. Drew Barrymore is cute. Director Betty Thomas can do good work, not lately, but she can do good work. In turn, I would like to apologize to the ushers and staff of the movie theater where I previewed this, for screaming out, “Dear God, no, for the love of God, no” when the female version of the Chipmunks, the Chipettes, were introduced. Ian Hawke (Cross), after losing the muskrats to David Seville (Lee), searches the world to find a trio of animals who can sing and dance. Enter Brittany (Anna Faris), Eleanor (Amy Poehler), and Jeanette (Christina Applegate). Where is the Bubonic plague when you need it? Alvin (Justin Long), Theodore (Jesse McCartney), and Simon (Matthew Gray Gubler) are now going to school and having a hard time adjusting. So what do you do when you got two singing randy squirrel groups? A battle of the bands of course. With $25,000 on the line, the boys want to save their school’s music program. Now I know what you are thinking? “I saw this episode of the Brady Bunch.” Have the boys met their match?

I thought Paranormal Activity was the best horror film of the year, but this might… What?... This is not a horror film?... This must be hell.

Verdict: Enough Already