Mark Reviews Movies: LYLE, LYLE, CROCODILE

Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, Sony Pictures Releasing

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | October 6, 2022

A crocodile that stands upright on its hind legs, can make comprehensible gestures with its body and other appendages, and displays emotions on its elongated visage is already pretty impressive. If you're told the reptile is going to sing, though, one would imagine its silence would be relatively disappointing. Such is the absurd logic of Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, a strange yet decidedly formulaic movie about a singing crocodile with a bad case of stage fright and the family that learns some lessons from the animal.

A movie with a premise like that probably should be much weirder than this one. It's odd, to be sure, but the filmmakers have decided to take it seriously as an upbeat musical and the inspirational story of living out one's dreams, while learning that family is a (very, very) flexible concept. It's the sort of movie that thinks its premise, some functioning visual effects, a lot of broad comedy, and a couple of snappy tunes are enough to keep kids engaged or, at least, occupied for a hundred minutes or so. That's a distinct possibility, but as for everyone else, they'll probably wonder why something this superficially wacky is so generic and occasionally maudlin.

We first meet the singing crocodile, well, singing in the back room of a shop selling exotic animals. It's discovered by Hector P. Valenti (Javier Bardem, who admirably plays his role in the register and at the over-the-top level that this material demands), a wannabe showman whose assorted acts haven't landed him any gigs. He's looking for something different and cute ("and affordable," he adds after a beat), and by chance, there's a singing crocodile, which Hector names Lyle.

The croc is voiced by singer Shawn Mendes, in a casting choice that intrinsically shows doubt in his acting ability, because Lyle never speaks a word and all the physical performance is the work of computer artists. Mendes surely can sing, but the odd thing is one might come away with more appreciation for the human cast's singing abilities than the professional musician who only exists as disembodied voice here.

Hector trains Lyle to sing and dance an elaborate number in a montage featuring lots of editing but not much energy. When the big night for the duo arrives, though, Lyle freezes and lets out only a off-key squeak, and since show business is a cruel business that doesn't care if a "singing" crocodile stands on two legs and looks terrified but doesn't sing, the act's a failure. Because Hector put up his New York City brownstone to rent the theater, he leaves Lyle in the attic and goes off to find some work.

A year and half later, the Primm family—father Joseph (Scoot McNairy), stepmother Katie (Constance Wu), and son Josh (Winslow Fegley)—move into said brownstone. The kid finds the croc, discovers it can sing, and tries and fails to keep the secret from his parents, who are surprisingly fine with the animal. Katie even has a duet in the kitchen with Lyle moments after her second and as-equally-terrified-as-the-first encounter with the crocodile, because such is the ridiculous and clichéd logic of a movie that cares primarily about getting some songs to fit between its comedic beats.

The story, of course, comes from the children's book by Bernard Waber. It's adapted by screenwriter Will Davies, who imbues it with a structure of random episodes (Hector returns and stays, thanks to a clause in the buyer's contract), and the directing team of Josh Gordon and Will Speck, whose tendency for fast cutting suggests some embarrassment with the material or skepticism about a young audience's attention span.

There are plenty of songs, either full numbers of forgettable original ones or snippets of Mendes' Lyle crooning more familiar tunes. There's a villain in the downstairs neighbor Mr. Grumps (Brett Gelman), who doesn't like all the noise, and after Wu and McNairy commendably play some complications in the background with the sincere severity of a loved one dying, we get both a chase through the city and a talent show for the climax. The latter is a reminder of the unflappable professionalism of gig musicians, who somehow don't miss a beat when a crocodile starts belting out a song that's being made up on the spot.

The easy criticism of Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile is that it's strange. That's true, but given the premise, that's more an expectation or observation. The real problem is that it's not nearly strange enough.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products

Buy the Soundtrack (Digital Download)