Review: Freddie the Frog

A French frog prince leaps to the rescue of Her Majesty's Secret Service in a politically incorrect but toad-ally awesome animated adventure from Britain. (No doubt the French are as charmed by Freddie as the Brits would be by a toon fruit called Limey the Lime.) "Freddie as F.R.O.7.," with Ben Kingsley as the amphibious bon vivant, turns on a wonderfully preposterous notion, inspired perhaps by the new togetherness of the European Community: The French send their best covert agent to save Britian from a cabal seemingly bent on destroying tourism.

Freddie is a rakish boulevardier with an eye for zee ladies and an accent thicker than vichyssoise. The former Prince Frederic, son of the late Magician King, Freddie was turned into a frog by his wicked Aunt Messina (Billie Whitelaw), grew to frogmanhood in a felicitous bog, and later realizing that he was not just a frog, but a Croak Monsieur, Freddie signed up with the French CIA. Using his inherited magic powers, his thoughts and his easy charm, Freddie becomes the green James Bond.

The British, headed by a lot of whey-faced incompetents, summon Freddie when they are unable to halt the mysterious disappearance of their most revered monuments. The Tower of London, Nelson's Column, Buckingham Palace and Stonehenge have already vanished by the time F.R.O.7. takes up the chase with British agents Daffers (Jenny Agutter) and Scotty (John Sessions). With the help of an old chum, Nessie, a freckled red-haired sea creature from Scotland, Freddie and friends discover a fascistic organization bent on ruling the world.

Messina, now metamorphosed into a scary hooded cobra, is the brains behind the plot. Determined to continue the family feud, she attempts to crush her nephew in her coils, but foolishly underestimates Freddie, who is no longer just a polliwog.

A loopy cross between the works of A.A. Milne and Ian Fleming, the story was written by producer-director Jon Acevski, whose inspiration was his 4-year-old son's favorite stuffed animal. Still, there's a distinctly adult slant to some of the material. One comes away wondering if Freddie might not be, well, in the closet sexually. Not only does he flirt outrageously with the voluptuous martial artist Daffers, but he makes a really big deal over saving his buddy, Scotty, from drowning with "zee French kiss of life. Don't worry, ziss will be our little secret," he reassures the burly Scotsman.

What if anything the small fry will make of this is anyone's guess -- or more likely income for their therapists in years hence. In any case, they seemed to respond most of all to the jouncy songs, the vibrant colors and the epic fisticuffs of the finale of "Freddie as F.R.O.7." Of course, it all comes down to Ben Kingsley's contribution, a spoofy vocalization that proves positively ribit-ribit-ribit-ting.