Subtitle Yogi Bear
"The Yogi Bear Show: The Complete Series" (Warner, 1960-62, not rated, $44.98, four discs). This is all the episodes of the first series to star Yogi Bear (he's "Smarter than the average bear"), as he and sidekick Boo Boo make trouble for the Jellystone Park ranger and steal picnic baskets galore. "Snagglepuss" and "Yakky Doodle" segments round out each episode.
subtitle Yogi Bear
Extras: Full frame, 17 episodes, audio commentaries (by producers on three episodes), deleted/extended scenes, making-of featurettes, bloopers, music video, subtitle options (English, French, Spanish), chapters; DVD-Rom applications.
Languages Available in: The download links above has Yogi Bearsubtitles in Arabic, Brazillian Portuguese, Danish, Dutch, English, Farsi Persian, French, Indonesian, Korean, Malay, Norwegian, Portuguese, Romanian, Spanish, Swedish, Thai, Turkish, Vietnamese Languages.
Having collaborated for nearly fifty years and partnered on television animation for thirty, William Hanna and Joseph Barbera were still in high demand in 1987, when they came up with Hanna-Barbera Superstars 10, a series of ten television movies featuring some of their accomplished studio's most beloved properties. While Hanna and Barbera got their start in cartoon shorts and became legends in half-hour episodes, the two were not strangers to feature-length storytelling, having cashed in on hot TV series back in the 1960s with the theatrical films Hey There, It's Yogi Bear and The Man Called Flintstone. Still running in one form or another in the 1980s, Yogi and the Flintstones would star in the first two Superstars productions. First up came Yogi's Great Escape.On the first day of spring, Yogi Bear and his short best friend Boo Boo wake up from their winter hibernation hungry for food. The first picnic basket they encounter holds none of the many treats they're craving, but three young bear cubs with an anonymous note asking Yogi to take care of them. The orphan cubs, who share Yogi's sweet tooth, start addressing Yogi and Boo Boo as their uncles. Surprisingly, they're not the mischievous handful you might expect.
'Yogi Bear' is of course the tale of that talking, picnic basket-snatching bear Yogi (Dan Aykroyd), who happens to be smarter than the average, well, you know. Yogi lives in Jellystone National Park with his companion and sidekick Boo Boo (Justin Timberlake). Together, their sole mission is to steal as many picnic baskets as possible from the campers of Jellystone. Watching over the park is ranger Smith (Tom Cavanagh) and his assistant park ranger, ranger Jones (T.J. Miller). The rangers are in a constant battle with Yogi, trying to keep him from disturbing the guests of the park. The story centers on the quest of Mayor Brown (Andrew Daly) to rezone Jellystone and sell land to corporations so the town can climb out of deep financial debt. Ranger Smith has until the end of the month to raise $20,000 and keep Jellystone alive. To do this, he'll need the help of Yogi, Boo Boo, ranger Jones, and documentary filmmaker Rachel (Anna Faris).
First off, it's worth stating up front that this film is clearly intended for a younger audience, adults looking to watch this one without children around will probably have a difficult time stomaching 80 minutes of a talking brown bear. I can see how this would appeal to children though. 'Yogi Bear' is filled to the brim with slapstick humor that kids should enjoy, from numerous bear puns to people getting hurt in cartoonish ways. I would also say the voice casting of Aykroyd and Timberlake was a pretty good move for a children's movie. Aykroyd actually does a pretty nice job delivering the lines, and while Timberlake may sound like a congested, whiney kid, that actually embodies Boo Boo fairly accurately from the original cartoon. This film clearly aims to get some laughs out of the kids and don't get me wrong, that isn't a bad thing, I'm sure there are far worse productions for kids to watch than 'Yogi Bear.'
As with the video presentation, the audio also delivers a great effort. Warner's provides 'Yogi Bear' with an engaging 5.1 DTS-HD Master Audio track. Dialogue is clear and centered throughout, never losing consistency from high to low registers. Kids will have no problem listening to Yogi and Boo Boo cook up plans to steal picnic baskets. 'Yogi Bear' also provides several sequences that will take full advantage of your surround system and shake your floor at times. Overall, this is a loud and fun mix that Children will enjoy, it's filled with slapstick bear humor and few immersing effects that will keep the kids engaged.
The annual Friends of the Library Book Sale begins at noon on Friday of next week. Soon I will be busy helping transform the new library's Community Room into a well-stocked used book shop with a wide-ranging array of hard covers and paperbacks gleaned from the many thousands of books that area residents have donated in the past year. Jan Karon's A Continual Feast (Viking $24.95) is a facsimile of a journal kept by Father Tim Kavanagh, the central character in the novels comprising Karon's Mitford series. I'm using it for this week's review largely because of the way its wide-ranging array of quotes from from Shakespeare and the Bible to Yogi Berra and Groucho Marx relates to scale and character of next week's "here-today, gone-tomorrow" book sale. Written in what is meant to represent Father Tim's own hand, the journal also contains enough personal trivia to reveal something about the character of the person jotting it all down. One of the quotes, from novelist and longtime New York Times book reviewer Anatole Broyard, sums up my sense of the book sale as a reflection of a community of donors similar to Ik-Joong Kang's mixed-media wall mosaic outside the Community Room that I wrote about in last week's art review: "The contents of someone's bookcase are part of his history, like an ancestral portrait." Book donations, especially substantial ones from a single library, bear out both Broyard's observation and Samuel Taylor Coleridge's concept of a library as "a living world." Father Tim's selections in A Continual Feast are worthy of the title and justify the subtitle's promise of "words of comfort and celebration." Like the hints of personal history that show up in the donated books I see every week, there are also glimpses of the journal keeper's everyday life in the form of recipes, grocery lists, reminders ("change oil, rotate tires"), gardening notes and favorite flowers, and puzzled notations about familiar computer messages ("Yr server has unexpectedly terminated the connection? server cannot be found?"). Jan Karon uses the last of the seemingly trivial list of "snow dates" that ends the journal to express the spirit of her Mitford books: "3/14 Alleluia! Narcissus pushing up through fresh snow."The unguarded spontaneity expressed in that entry reminds me of the odds and ends of personal history that turn up when you're sifting through donations of books that in one way or another suggest the taste, temperament, and idiosyncrasies of the owners. Odds and ends? Here are some I could put in my version of the library mural: birth certificates; packs of playing cards and antique tarot cards; a bag of runes; a Depression-era condom still in its cardboard package (found between the pages of Tom Jones); costume jewelry; dog bones; plastic Jesuses and Buddhas; a flute in its case; jigsaw puzzles; not to mention sea shells, love letters, Dear John letters, birthday cards, report cards, and post cards from all over the world. You also often find airline boarding passes (lots of these, used as bookmarks in paperbacks); ticket stubs from long-ago Broadway plays (and more than one collection of long-ago Playbills); exotic bookmarks (some made of elegant fabric, others from bookstores dating back to the 1920s); and bookplates. Sometimes you even see original artwork, sketchbooks of European scenes, and elegant little watercolors on cards no larger than the tiles in the "Happy World" mural. Imagine opening a musty old atlas to find a pastel portrait of the 90-year-old donor as a beautiful young woman. Imagine countless photos, snapshots of babies, dogs, cats, homes, back yards, family scenes, friends, parties, the whole happy-sad human comedy, and no names, no captions. That's only an off-the-top-of-my-head sampling. The list could go on for pages.After 15 years of wading through this tide of personal effects, you realize books are magnets and receptacles, whether someone grabs something to use as a book mark or something they don't know what else to do with except to hide or randomly stash it between the pages of a book. Certain between-the-covers stowaways present some issues. You find yourself in the role of protecting some anonymous donor's privacy. The issue is not a matter of personal honesty, as in the hypothetical case where a donor has unknowingly given the library a book worth thousands of dollars (something that has never happened, by the way). It's when a volume turns up glowingly and lovingly inscribed to one person from another, presumably both still in the community, still patrons of the library. "To my beloved so-and-so who changed my life forever, here is the book that literally saved my soul. Treasure it always." Half a year after the date on the inscription, the beloved recipient has donated the treasure to the library, perhaps because that seemed a kinder, gentler option than selling it. But you have to wonder what if the inscriber sees it for sale or, worse, what if the donor doesn't even realize that the fulsomely inscribed volume got mixed in with the donations? All too often books are donated in haste, when people are moving or downsizing and simply want to get them out of the house.Whose Notebook is This?One thing that made me select A Continual Feast as a starting point was seeing Father Tim's name and address written in the upper right corner of the endpaper, just as it would be if it were really someone's journal ("If found, please return to Timothy Kavanagh, 107 Wisteria Lane, Mitford"). For a second I thought it was the real thing. In fact, the real thing showed up the other day and in a way it is the true subject of this review because of the quality of the writing it contains, because it is anonymous, and because its appearance suggests the whole mysterious, random, harmoniously chaotic process endemic to the phenomenon of book donations. This object, which landed in the library's donation bin a little less than two weeks ago, is a small softbound black Gap notebook containing around 150 lined pages filled with the owner's thoughts and observations but no owner's name. Reading around in it, I don't feel as guilty as I would if these were a lot of callow or pretentious or painfully personal ramblings. But this is someone with a poet's sensibility, an eye for nature, and real talent. What troubles me is the clear possibility that this is not a donation but an accident, and that the person who kept this journal is missing it and needing it and wondering what happened to it. Knowing how I would feel if I misplaced something like this, I'm hoping that if I mention it here someone may come forward to claim it. 041b061a72