6/10
This is Disney's fiftieth full length feature film (try saying that through a mouth full of popcorn), and while it is some way below the highest standards (Bambi, Pincocchio etc), it is - apart from the songs - perfectly watchable.
The film is loosely based on the fairy story about a princess called Rapunzel who is locked in a high tower, her long hair being the only entrance and exit into and out of the tower. I suspect an American audience would have found the use of her name too confusing, though I'm not sure that Tangled is any more catchy. Anyway, we have an evil witch who wants to remain eternally youthful, but can only do so through the magic of Rapunzel's hair when she sings, and she's got the long-haired blonde banged up in the tower for eternity. By the way, is it just me, or does Gothel (the witch), look, sound and sing very like Cher, whose facial youthfulness is well known? I only ask in case poor Cher might feel offended.
The boy half of the love match is Flynn Rider (he bears an intentional resemblance to Errol Flynn), a charming rogue who winds up in the tower, tied up by the 50 foot hairdo (although its length varies throughout the film). There's a pet chameleon called Pascal, a horse called Maximus who behaves like a bloodhound, and the well-named Slabbington Brothers, a couple of ugly lunks who used to work with Flynn.
It all goes on a bit too long, has a number of unnecessary songs (well, all songs in films are unnecessary), and ends up in precisely the place where you expect it to - BUT the journey to that predictable outcome is enjoyable enough, and will keep most undemanding kids happy. With a historical perspective of over 70 years, it's a long time since Disney made anything approaching a classic, and indeed it's only their acquisition of Pixar that has left them with any cred at all. This is a bit better than The Princess & The Frog, and continues their tradition of having a female lead (glamorous, though, of course). It has done well in the States and will probably do well in the UK.
