Honey aside, ‘Bee’ is simply empty calories

“According to all known laws of aviation,” says a voice at the beginning of “Bee Movie,” which bears the double distinction of being Jerry Seinfeld’s first foray into animation and DreamWorks’ first foray into Jerry Seinfeld, “there is no way a bee should be able to fly.” The voice explains that bees’ wings are too short and their bodies too round to make getting airborne very likely. Then it adds, “Bees, of course, fly anyway, because bees don’t care what humans think is impossible.”

If this sounds uncharacteristically rousing and inspirational considering the source -- there’s nobody on Earth who doesn’t know that “Bee Movie” was written and produced by Jerry Seinfeld, right? -- I should point out that this moment may be as rousing and inspirational as “Bee Movie” gets. Which isn’t to say it doesn’t have lots of funny moments, just that it prefers to keep things light, matter-of-fact and sitcom-y. The story is loopy and harebrained, but the telling of it is too cool and removed to qualify as inspired lunacy. “Bee Movie” doesn’t soar into the realm of the impossible, in other words, so much as it hovers in the vicinity of the doable -- issues of bee anthropomorphism aside, needless to say.

Seinfeld had been approached often in past years to voice animated characters and waited until he was able to work on a project that he could really get behind, or so the story goes. Not surprisingly, the script is suffused with his familiar tone, rhythm and preoccupations. “Bee Movie” is snappier, friendlier and infinitely more likable than the crass, addled “Shrek” franchise or the aggressively unpleasant “Shark’s Tale,” say.

What it’s not is particularly unfamiliar. Seinfeld’s brand of observational, referential, minutia-obsessed humor has gotten so pervasive as to have practically become the in-house tone of DreamWorks animation. For a big comeback project, “Bee Movie” feels as if it was cut from a mold made in the ‘90s.

A coming-of-age story about a kid from a conformist society whose individualism and nonconformity cause problems at first but eventually save the day, “Bee Movie” parrots the I-gotta-be-me standard without thinking it through.

Barry Benson (Seinfeld), is a young bee fresh out of college about to forcibly enter the workforce. Or as the orientation guide at the Honex plant puts it, “You’ve worked your whole lives so you can work your whole lives.” This might sound sinister or oppressive, but it’s not presented that way at all. The honey plant could double as an amusement park, just as the hive where Barry has lived all his life is a shiny, happy, retro-styled mixed-use commercial/industrial/residential development that tends to its citizens’ every need.

Nobody finds this the least bit troubling, except Barry -- whose objections seem to stem not from the fact that the hive is a corporate feudal state but from the idea of doing one job for the rest of his life. The only job that appeals to him is that of pollen jock -- they’re the pilots who leave the hive and go out into the world.

While flying over Central Park, Barry is separated from the rest of the squadron and lost. He winds up inside the apartment of Vanessa (Renee Zellweger), a florist, who saves Barry from her meathead boyfriend, Ken (Patrick Warburton), when Ken tries to swat him.

Grateful, Barry breaks the cardinal rule of bees and talks to Vanessa. Soon she and Barry become close friends, and Barry returns to the hive full of a newfound appreciation for the human way of life. (Cinnabon is high on his list of marvels.)

When he and Vanessa visit a supermarket, however, Barry discovers that humans have been stealing the fruit of bees’ work for profit and he sues humanity for -- I don’t know what. Copyright infringement? Piracy? Something the kids can really rally behind.

So, is it a good thing or a bad thing that “Bee Movie” goes to the trouble of inventing an entire fictional insect universe, with its own codes and problems, and then transposes onto it a longer-than-usual episode of “Seinfeld”? The jokes are the best thing about it (“I was already a bloodsucking parasite,” says a mosquito turned lawyer, played by Chris Rock. “All I needed was the briefcase.”) They’re also the worst thing about it. (“I just hope she’s bee-ish,” sighs Barry’s anxious mother, played by Kathy Bates, on learning that her son is interested in someone who may or may not be a wasp. Get it?)

Barry appears on Bee Larry King and says things like, “When I’m done with the humans, they’re not going to be able to say ‘honey’ without paying a royalty.”

And there’s a recurring gag involving Ray Liotta and his brand of honey that’s hilarious -- if you happen to have cultivated some wry opinions about Liotta’s acting style and a sardonic view of Paul Newman salad dressing-like products. What kid hasn’t? I’m all for double-encoding, but not when most of the humor seems aimed at people old enough to have enjoyed “Seinfeld” in its first run, before the film’s target audience was born.

This would be OK if “Bee Movie”-- a pun on B movie that goes no further than the title -- weren’t also content to remain in the shallow part of the pool, story-wise. The movie opens with the suggestion that one little bee is going to do the impossible -- and it turns out to be a lawsuit. Which leads to a work stoppage. Which leads to a plant-growth problem. Which is easily resolved.

Meanwhile, nothing about the movie resonates emotionally. The conformity of the hive is neither crushing nor soul-deadening. The fact that humans making money off the bees’ labor has no effect on the quality of life of the bees, who dwell in contented, well-fed insularity. There’s no real jeopardy. The stakes are low. It’s a bee movie about nothing.

carina.chocano@latimes.com

“Bee Movie.” MPAA rating: PG for mild suggestive humor. Running time: 1 hour, 40 minutes. In wide release.