[i]Puss N' Boots[/i] is a magically delicious descent into madness. Executed in the twilight of the 1980's inimitable indiscretion, this rendition of the classic tale is irreverent to the point of insanity. Check your credulity at the opening credits, because from that point on, you will be strapped into a roller coaster ride of daft dialog and stultifying special effects. Christopher Walken steals the show as the titular character, and is introduced in a sequence of scenes which are so visually heavy handed in their attempt to convey that the cat is in fact Walken that your retinas will feel bruised. The homoerotic vibe which Walken emanates while portraying a cat-made-man is palpable and utterly disturbing. The other characters in the cast include the infamous Ogre who shapeshifts into lions, tigers and bears within the first 30 seconds of the film, a whimpering millers son played by Sean Connery's son, a princess who is an impetuous tart, and of course the King, who is narcoleptic, impulsive and appears to have a serious blood pressure condition.
The story of [i]Puss N' Boots [/i]does not diverge from the classical tale in any truly significant ways, and yet this film was utterly astounding in it's audacity. Characters inexplicably fall in line with the antics of Puss as he orchestrates his master's rise to wealth and power from poverty and obscurity, with virtually no resistance other than a brief scene in which the ogre lumbers after Puss. The song ?Stick Our Your Neck? seems an anthem advocating the reckless endangerment of yourself and others to sustain elaborate lies and selfish personal gain. The audience is constantly perplexed as to why the characters acquiesce to the machinations of Puss, despite the sound reasoning of his master, dim witted though he may be. In other adaptations, faith in Puss as a clever trickster invokes the requisite enthusiasm to brush aside the pleading of his master, but this particular version misses the mark in that department, leaving in this void the ass-shaking, hip-swiveling tomfoolery of a seemingly strung out Christopher Walken.
There is a romantic sub-plot involving the daughter of the king, but her blunt mannerism and blatant disregard for decorum lack any subtlety. The behavior of the princess appears reckless and vapid instead of charmingly common. Any tension which would have been gleaned from the millers son's romantic infatuation with the princess is nullified by both of them immediately disregarding all pretenses of being anything other than what they are; impulsive, randy teenagers. The love songs induce wincing, and the romantic dialog is truly painful to endure.
The end of the movie, as with the tale, sees our hero with everything he ever dreamed of: wealth untold, his myriad lies undiscovered, his poor family forgotten and living in squalor half a kingdom away, the ogre dead in the belly of his shapeshifter cat, and the indiscreet tart of a princess on his arm. In a bold move showing complete disregard for continuity, the king and his entire court end the film by giving a toast to Puss N' Boots, despite the fact that not a soul other than the millers son knew his name or his role in the events which transpired. I personally could only recommend this movie to those who are already taking a considerable quantity of mind-altering substances, or the most zealous of Christopher Walken fans. In either case, all viewers should brace themselves for a truly surreal cinematic experience of epic proportions.