The Road To El Dorado review

Nowadays almost every major studio is turning out family-friendly animated movies and depressingly, the majority follow the same simple recipe - chisel-jawed hero, waif-like love interest with more attitude than waistline, sadistic British (or at the very least European) villain, one or more comical animals and a good half dozen songs by Phil Collins or Elton John and the like.

DreamWorks' The Road To El Dorado dutifully checks off each basic ingredient, and throws in a spot of human sacrifice, a dash of mystical hocus pocus and a hasty reworking of 16th century history.

Tulio (voiced by Kevin Kline) and Miguel (Kenneth Branagh) are a pair of con men taking 1519 Spain by storm. Thanks to a pair of loaded dice, they manage to obtain a map pointing the way to the legendary City of Gold, El Dorado.

Landing in South America, the pair follow the map and eventually stumble upon the fabled city where mightily robust chief Tannabok (Edward James Olmos) and conniving high priest Tzekel-Kan (Armand Assante) mistake them for gods.

Pretty soon, the duo are living the high life in the city's golden temple, gorging themselves on succulent fruit and wine. Luck and the gift of the gab are on their side, along with one of the village girls Chel (Rosie Perez) who sees straight through their deception and offers to help them in exchange for a cut of the profits and a ticket back to Spain. Both men gladly agree.

Meanwhile, El Dorado's chief and high priest are caught up in a vicious struggle for power, and both try hard to impress their new gods. When Tzekel-Kan discovers that the outsiders are mere mortals, his rage boils over, and he summons a terrible monster to kill the impostors and clear a path to the throne.

For a film aimed at a family audience, The Road To El Dorado is stitched together with rather a lot of adult elements. Flirtations between Tulio and Chel are laced with decidedly fruity innuendo and our two heroes flash their buttocks in a skinny-dipping scene.

The threat of human sacrifice hangs heavy in the air, as does an infrequent mild expletive. Perhaps Tulio and Miguel are gods after all - how else do you account for the U certificate? Elton John and Tim Rice's six songs are much of a muchness, dripping with twee sentimentality (not that you'll remember any of them), and slow the film down badly.

The animation is fluid and detailed, and gorgeously colourful, and the three central characters all bear obvious similarities with the vocal talents behind them. Kline and Branagh deadpan and quip their way through Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio's screenplay with plenty of gusto, bouncing off each other to great effect, and Perez savours her feminist babe's moments in the spotlight, wrapping the men around her tanned little finger with her alluring sexuality.

All good fun, just nothing new.