Hop (2011)

There is a scene in Hop in which a teenage rabbit, having fled Easter Island to pursue a career in rock drumming, performs with the Blind Boys of Alabama. The gospel legends appear as themselves, play their instruments, and are never asked to explain or justify their presence. This is the entirety of the film's engagement with representation. Two minutes of unremarked musical collaboration. We accept it, we move on, and we return to the rabbit.

The film concerns E.B., voiced by Russell Brand, who would prefer percussion to succession. His father, the reigning Easter Bunny, disapproves. A slacker named Fred O'Hare, played by James Marsden with the desperate energy of a man who has read the script, hits the rabbit with his car and then houses him. A chick named Carlos stages a coup. There is a chocolate factory, a gummy candy trap, and David Hasselhoff hosting a talent program. At no point does the narrative pause to interrogate power structures, examine racial identity, question the industrial production of seasonal candy, or suggest that anyone should feel differently about their body. The Easter factory is a marvel of cheerful manufacturing, and the film regards it with the uncomplicated affection of a child at a diorama. No critique of capital intrudes upon the conveyor belts. The chicks who revolt are motivated by ambition, not by labor grievance.

What remains is a family comedy from 2011 about following your dreams and reconciling with your father, delivered with a shrug and a drum solo. It has no interest in instructing us on how to live. It would rather show us a rabbit playing the drums badly and a man eating through black licorice. We classify it accordingly, with a certain professional relief. Not every artifact requires our full apparatus. Some simply sit there, brightly colored and harmless, awaiting the next Easter.