The New Yorker made a bad layout decision, and this is how I read their review of The Princess and the Frog:

Disney's first classically animated African-American heroine (voiced by Anika Noni Rose) gets short shrift in this new twist on an old tale, in which a young girl in Louisiana bayou country kisses a frog that was once a prince, and turns into a frog herself. The nineteen-twenties jazz-age setting in the film, we watch Viggo Mortensen, as the Man, and Kodi Smit-McPhee , as the boy, walk though a dichromatic gray-brown post-apocalyptic landscape, peopled only by a few survivors (some of them cannibals feasting on human captives). The grimly punitive monotony of hte leafless, colorless, humorless production may fool some people into thinking it's art. With the golden Chralize Theron, as the Man's wife (seen in flashback to better days), and Robert Duvall, as a bitter old coot waiting to die. Shot in a wrecked industrial landscape near Pittsburgh.

As I was reading this, I was thinking, "wow, this movie is not at all what I expected." Apparently my reading of the review got jumbled with a neighboring review for The Road, an adaptation of a Cormac McCarthy novel.

I'm almost disappointed that this was a mistake. It sounded kind of cool! Maybe I'll start intentionally mashing up NYer reviews.