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Led by pint-size jarhead Maj. Chip Hazard (the voice of Tommy Lee Jones), the computer-animated villains are a series of all-American action figures, marketed under the name Commando Elite. Like Hasbro's military doll, the camo-clad Elite are fully posable muscle men with articulated limbs and extruded-plastic hands frozen into permanent pistol grips. Unlike Joe's rugged farm-boy features, however, these warriors' faces are Cro-Magnon masks of leering hostility, their bulging bodies cast in the swollen mold of a 9-inch Schwarzenegger.
When overzealous toy designer Larry Benson (Jay Mohr) installs a weapons-grade microchip into their computer circuitry, the Commando Elite quite literally fly off the toy store shelves, preprogrammed to search and destroy.
The object of their single-minded fury is another line of toys called the Gorgonites. Designed by Larry's wimpy colleague Irwin Wayfair (David Cross), the Gorgonites are a scary-looking but peaceful band of mutants who have been programmed to do only one thing well: hide. According to their cat-faced leader Archer (Frank Langella), whenever they fight, they inevitably lose.
The underdogs are taken under the wings of misunderstood teen Alan Abernathy (Gregory Smith) and his Smalltown, USA, neighbor Christy Fimple (Kristen Dunst), on whom he has a bit of a crush. Allying themselves with what Maj. Hazard calls the "Gorgonite scum," the humans are quickly targeted for destruction by a miniature army equipped with weapons jury-rigged from household appliances, tools and spare parts.
It's a formula that will look suspiciously familiar from Dante's two earlier "Gremlins" movies, an allusion he himself invites by assigning Irwin the computer password of "Gizmo." There is less wry social commentary this go-round in the script by Gavin Scott, Adam Rifkin, Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio, but Dante does manage to get a few nice digs in at modern life. However, his victims-the Spice Girls and the over-commercialization of toys, for example-are not exactly difficult targets.
The computer graphic effects are well-done and fairly seamless, although there are too many times when the film cuts from a close-up of a moving soldier to a wide shot of what is clearly an inanimate object. Unlike "Toy Story," to which the inevitable comparisons will be made, the toys here move stiffly, or more realistically, if you will, their jaws moving up and down in the choppy fashion of a puppet.
Ironically though, the toys often seem more lifelike than some of the human actors, particularly Kevin Dunn and Ann Magnuson as Alan's mechanical parents. Surprising pathos is evoked by Archer's noble leonine visage, enriched by Langella's expressive vocalization.
In fact, for a film that relies so heavily on special visual effects, "Small Soldiers" deserves kudos for the exceptional use of voices in fleshing out character: Spinal Tappers Christopher Guest, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer define the motley band of Gorgonites; famous tough guys such as Ernest Borgnine, Jim Brown and George Kennedy breath life into the Commandos; and Sarah Michelle Gellar and the ubiquitous Christina Ricci portray a collection of Barbie-like "Gwendy" dolls, recruited as ditzy reinforcements by Hazard's men.
The late, great Phil Hartman-recycling his Troy McClure character from "The Simpsons" as the Abernathys' self-absorbed neighbor, Phil Fimple-has all too small a part here. But, as any 11-year-old will tell you, the people in "Small Soldiers" are merely set dressing. The real stars are its polypropylene protagonists, who should give its target audience of pre- and early-teens sufficient nightmares to last through the end of the summer.
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