Working in a bookstore, I've seen several books in the children's
section featuring a whimsical pig named Olivia, but I never read of the
stories in Ian Falconer's series until I came across the latest, Olivia Helps With Christmas, in my ever-earlier pre-Christmas picture book perusal.
Although I have read many tales with porcine protagonists, the
fictional character of whom Olivia immediately reminded me was Ramona,
irrepressible young (human) star of several Beverly Cleary books. Olivia
is a mischievous little piggy who wants to be helpful but doesn't
always manage so well, especially as her creative outlook on life
sometimes causes her to make simple tasks more complicated.
Her primary preoccupation here is preparing for Christmas, along with
her younger brothers Ian and William, who share in her anticipation,
particularly Ian. William is a bit young to understand what's going on,
but that doesn't prevent him from getting caught up in the excitement.
The prose style is simple, with the charcoal and gouache illustrations
doing most of the talking. While most of each page is black and white,
certain elements are colorful, such as the green Christmas tree Olivia
helps to decorate and the red and green clothing she and Ian wear.
Additionally, scattered among the pages are views of the piglets gazing
out a window, and the scene through the window is in a much different
style than the rest of the illustration.
My favorite series of
pictures depicts Olivia in a quandary familiar to anyone who's ever
dealt with Christmas lights. In six small illustrations spread across
two pages, she become more and more tangled until she finally leaves it
to the experts, who probably aren't much more adept than her, as
Christmas lights are inherently frustrating. Another entertaining
illustration shows her on Christmas morning reacting differently to each
of her gifts.
Olivia Helps With Christmas is a fun
little book about a child's experience of Christmas and the days leading
up to it. Falconer dedicated it to the memory of his father, and it's
the sort of story parents and children can enjoy together, laughing at
Olivia's antics and enjoying the feeling of togetherness the book
espouses. Nothing terribly profound here, just sweet simplicity and
silliness. But that's enough to make this one worth the time to read it.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Monday, November 5, 2007
Christmas With George is More Fun Than a Barrel of Monkeys
Over the weekend, the mall where I work was swamped. One reason, no
doubt, is the simple fact that several busloads worth of shoppers had
landed, eager to hunt down some deals. Another is that with Halloween
out of the way, the mall has quickly switched into full-on Christmas
mode, and folks in my town seem to be taking the bait. But I think at
least a bit of the credit ought to go to a curious monkey by the name of
George, who stopped by for story time with a slew of appreciative kids.
The beloved primate continues to enchant young readers with new adventures despite the deaths of his creators in 1977 and 1996. In Merry Christmas, Curious George, released last year, George gets himself into a tricky situation when the Man in the Yellow Hat takes him to a nursery in search of a Christmas tree. Each one seems so fantastic, George happily swings from tree to tree, until the magnificent specimen in which he is resting is chopped down, strapped to a truck and carted away to a children's hospital.
Never one to let his fear get the better of his curiosity, George soon ventures from behind the needles and investigates the hospital, where he is greeted by excited children and an aggravated nurse. A monkey has no business in the hospital, especially when he takes it upon himself to decorate the tree that brought him there with pilfered items such as x-rays and get well balloons. Who will persevere in this battle of the wills?
The story was written by Cathy Hapka, who I assume is the same Cathy Hapka who wrote two LOST tie-in novels, one of which was considerably more satisfying than the other. Here, she only has two characters she has to worry about getting right, and that's George and his sunny human pal, who scarcely is involved in the story anyway. Hapka delivers an enjoyable story, and Mary O'Keefe Young illustrates it entertainingly, giving us many glimpses of George's well-meaning mischief.
As a nice, though not terribly practical, bonus, inside the cover is tucked a sheet of thick wrapping paper featuring an assortment of glass ornaments in which scenes involving George are reflected. After witnessing his generous spirit, perhaps the kids reading will be a little more eager to make use of it. In any case, this recent outing of Curious George is a fun tale to be treasured for years to come.
The beloved primate continues to enchant young readers with new adventures despite the deaths of his creators in 1977 and 1996. In Merry Christmas, Curious George, released last year, George gets himself into a tricky situation when the Man in the Yellow Hat takes him to a nursery in search of a Christmas tree. Each one seems so fantastic, George happily swings from tree to tree, until the magnificent specimen in which he is resting is chopped down, strapped to a truck and carted away to a children's hospital.
Never one to let his fear get the better of his curiosity, George soon ventures from behind the needles and investigates the hospital, where he is greeted by excited children and an aggravated nurse. A monkey has no business in the hospital, especially when he takes it upon himself to decorate the tree that brought him there with pilfered items such as x-rays and get well balloons. Who will persevere in this battle of the wills?
The story was written by Cathy Hapka, who I assume is the same Cathy Hapka who wrote two LOST tie-in novels, one of which was considerably more satisfying than the other. Here, she only has two characters she has to worry about getting right, and that's George and his sunny human pal, who scarcely is involved in the story anyway. Hapka delivers an enjoyable story, and Mary O'Keefe Young illustrates it entertainingly, giving us many glimpses of George's well-meaning mischief.
As a nice, though not terribly practical, bonus, inside the cover is tucked a sheet of thick wrapping paper featuring an assortment of glass ornaments in which scenes involving George are reflected. After witnessing his generous spirit, perhaps the kids reading will be a little more eager to make use of it. In any case, this recent outing of Curious George is a fun tale to be treasured for years to come.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
The Celestial Bodies Are Beautiful, But the Real Stars Here Are Mr. Putter and Tabby
The first hints of winter are in the air here in Erie, Pennsylvania. As
the weather grows chillier, I grow more inclined to hunker down under a
fleece blanket, bundled up in robes given to me by my grandparents, who,
like the titular characters in Mr. Putter and Tabby See the Stars,
appreciate the value of a good snooze. They also love to sit out and
stare up at the stars from around a crackling fire at the camp they
visit each summer, so I think of them as I read this latest tale in
Cynthia Rylant's charming series about an amiable, elderly bachelor and
his creaky, devoted cat, who spring to endearing life through the
squiggly illustrations of Arthur Howard.
While Mr. Putter and Tabby's lives are generally serene, they occasionally run into comical complications, often because of kindly Mrs. Teaberry, who lives next door with her dog Zeke. Like my grandma, she dotes on her dog and delights in preparing tasty treats for visitors. Most often, Mrs. Teaberry's visitors are Mr. Putter and Tabby, who enjoy the neighborly company and the delectable delicacies. But on this particular occasion, Mr. Putter lets his fondness for her pineapple jelly rolls get the better of him, leaving him with a nasty case of indigestion-induced insomnia. But rather than add his grumbling to that of his stomach, he takes the inconvenience as an invitation. It's a perfect night for a star-gazing stroll.
Like the other books in this series, Mr. Putter and Tabby See the Stars is divided into three sections. In this case, the first two sections, entitled Logs and Grumble, are extremely short in comparison with the third, Stars, in which most of the action is contained. They provide some basic background, but the duo's nocturnal perambulation doesn't occur until Stars. The only real conflict in the story is the upset stomach, which is a source of mild annoyance rather than anguish, so this is one of the most sedate installments in the series, but that just makes it especially ideal for bedtime reading, perhaps during a campout when stars are likely to be in full view.
As always, Howard's pictures are wonderfully whimsical, perfectly complementing Rylant's short but artful sentences, like these: "Mr. Putter plumped his pillow. Tabby squished hers. And then they slept like logs. But one night, one of the logs could not sleep." While I love the details in the characters' facial expressions, I think my favorite picture in this book is the one in which Mr. Putter and Tabby, their backs to the reader, gaze up at the Big Dipper from beneath a gently drooping tree. It's a lovely image, full of fanciful possibilities, to which the text alludes.
Whether or not they have previously encountered pudgy, pleasant Mr. Putter, with his overlarge glasses, bristly mustache and childlike expressions, and orange-and-white Tabby, with her twitchy tail and contented grin, children could scarcely wish on a star for a more quietly gentle tale.
While Mr. Putter and Tabby's lives are generally serene, they occasionally run into comical complications, often because of kindly Mrs. Teaberry, who lives next door with her dog Zeke. Like my grandma, she dotes on her dog and delights in preparing tasty treats for visitors. Most often, Mrs. Teaberry's visitors are Mr. Putter and Tabby, who enjoy the neighborly company and the delectable delicacies. But on this particular occasion, Mr. Putter lets his fondness for her pineapple jelly rolls get the better of him, leaving him with a nasty case of indigestion-induced insomnia. But rather than add his grumbling to that of his stomach, he takes the inconvenience as an invitation. It's a perfect night for a star-gazing stroll.
Like the other books in this series, Mr. Putter and Tabby See the Stars is divided into three sections. In this case, the first two sections, entitled Logs and Grumble, are extremely short in comparison with the third, Stars, in which most of the action is contained. They provide some basic background, but the duo's nocturnal perambulation doesn't occur until Stars. The only real conflict in the story is the upset stomach, which is a source of mild annoyance rather than anguish, so this is one of the most sedate installments in the series, but that just makes it especially ideal for bedtime reading, perhaps during a campout when stars are likely to be in full view.
As always, Howard's pictures are wonderfully whimsical, perfectly complementing Rylant's short but artful sentences, like these: "Mr. Putter plumped his pillow. Tabby squished hers. And then they slept like logs. But one night, one of the logs could not sleep." While I love the details in the characters' facial expressions, I think my favorite picture in this book is the one in which Mr. Putter and Tabby, their backs to the reader, gaze up at the Big Dipper from beneath a gently drooping tree. It's a lovely image, full of fanciful possibilities, to which the text alludes.
Whether or not they have previously encountered pudgy, pleasant Mr. Putter, with his overlarge glasses, bristly mustache and childlike expressions, and orange-and-white Tabby, with her twitchy tail and contented grin, children could scarcely wish on a star for a more quietly gentle tale.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
A Head-Spinning Sting Sawyer Couldn't Pull Off
For years, my dad has been telling me that I need to watch The Sting.
We finally corrected that situation last week. Now, though I'm not
quite sure I picked up on all the infinitesimal details of the film's
plot, I'm considerably more aware than I was before, when I couldn't
tell you much more about The Sting than the fact that it features one of my favorite pieces of music.
That piece is, of course, The Entertainer, the fantastic rag augmenting a piano-shaped music box that I have. When it comes to tickling the ivories, few songs are as satisfying, though my clunky fingers never quite managed to master it. The movie is full of bouncy ragtime numbers, but this most famous of Scott Joplin's compositions makes the biggest impression as it plays over the opening credits and helped fuel a resurgence in the popularity of this musical style. Ironically, the score that is such a part of the film's appeal is a bit anachronistic, as ragtime peaked in popularity considerably before the movie's late 1930s setting. But it just suits the energy and mood so well...
The Sting centers around Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford), a dashing young grifter who, motivated primarily by a lust for revenge and the thrill of the chase, enlists the aid of seasoned swindler Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman) to help him pull off a "big con" on Irish mob boss Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw). ("Long con!" I hissed every time the phrase came up; I was reminded of Sawyer, LOST's wheedling con man, at every turn, and it certainly seems likely that The Sting is a film familiar to Josh Holloway and the writers who developed his character.)
A nice haul of cash is decent motivation too, though Johnny plays fast and loose with his money; I was appalled to see him toss away thousands of dollars on a single spin of the roulette. I couldn't imagine making such a hefty wager today, let alone in 1937. But high stakes are what his life is all about. He spends half the movie running from people; Redford must have gotten a good workout during the filming! It's certainly a dangerous way to live, but it makes for pretty engaging viewing.
What I find especially incredible about the movie is how many people are in on the elaborate con Johnny and Henry concoct. It's hard enough when you only have to worry about yourself and perhaps one other person; here, any one of many could be the rusty gear in a well-oiled machine. It would take a miracle to pull everything off perfectly.
Throughout the movie, Lonnegan frequently issues instructions concluding with a curt "You folla?" Were he directing the question to me, I would in all honesty have to say no. I watched it with my dad, who explained what was going on at every stop along the way so I could figure out what was happening. The plot twists and intricacies of the deceptions are a little too complex for my fluff-filled head, at least on the first viewing. I can't always keep track of Sawyer's solo shenanigans; throw a couple dozen accomplices into the mix and I'm hopelessly confused. But it's such a pleasant perplexity...
Not everyone is lucky enough to have a personal tour guide through the movie, so a second viewing may be advised for full enjoyment, but as long as you're paying attention, The Sting is a film as entertaining as its theme music suggests.
That piece is, of course, The Entertainer, the fantastic rag augmenting a piano-shaped music box that I have. When it comes to tickling the ivories, few songs are as satisfying, though my clunky fingers never quite managed to master it. The movie is full of bouncy ragtime numbers, but this most famous of Scott Joplin's compositions makes the biggest impression as it plays over the opening credits and helped fuel a resurgence in the popularity of this musical style. Ironically, the score that is such a part of the film's appeal is a bit anachronistic, as ragtime peaked in popularity considerably before the movie's late 1930s setting. But it just suits the energy and mood so well...
The Sting centers around Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford), a dashing young grifter who, motivated primarily by a lust for revenge and the thrill of the chase, enlists the aid of seasoned swindler Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman) to help him pull off a "big con" on Irish mob boss Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw). ("Long con!" I hissed every time the phrase came up; I was reminded of Sawyer, LOST's wheedling con man, at every turn, and it certainly seems likely that The Sting is a film familiar to Josh Holloway and the writers who developed his character.)
A nice haul of cash is decent motivation too, though Johnny plays fast and loose with his money; I was appalled to see him toss away thousands of dollars on a single spin of the roulette. I couldn't imagine making such a hefty wager today, let alone in 1937. But high stakes are what his life is all about. He spends half the movie running from people; Redford must have gotten a good workout during the filming! It's certainly a dangerous way to live, but it makes for pretty engaging viewing.
What I find especially incredible about the movie is how many people are in on the elaborate con Johnny and Henry concoct. It's hard enough when you only have to worry about yourself and perhaps one other person; here, any one of many could be the rusty gear in a well-oiled machine. It would take a miracle to pull everything off perfectly.
Throughout the movie, Lonnegan frequently issues instructions concluding with a curt "You folla?" Were he directing the question to me, I would in all honesty have to say no. I watched it with my dad, who explained what was going on at every stop along the way so I could figure out what was happening. The plot twists and intricacies of the deceptions are a little too complex for my fluff-filled head, at least on the first viewing. I can't always keep track of Sawyer's solo shenanigans; throw a couple dozen accomplices into the mix and I'm hopelessly confused. But it's such a pleasant perplexity...
Not everyone is lucky enough to have a personal tour guide through the movie, so a second viewing may be advised for full enjoyment, but as long as you're paying attention, The Sting is a film as entertaining as its theme music suggests.
Friday, November 2, 2007
This Pachyderm Present is Perfectly Pleasant
Last year, when my favorite radio station decided to play nothing but
Christmas music for the month of December, I discovered a lovely little
novelty number entitled I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas. I've
always had a soft spot for hippos, so I could sympathize with the
girl's plight, and besides, the song was just so darn catchy. It was
sung by Gayla Peevey, who had a remarkably developed voice for a
ten-year-old. I at first assumed it was a grown woman trying to sound
little girl-ish, but she really was a little girl back in 1953, and
thanks to her enthusiastic performance of John Rox's jingle, the
Oklahoma City Zoo soon was able to buy its first hippopotamus, Matilda.
As an homage to my obsession with the song, I bought myself a hippo at Build-a-Bear when it had its grand opening here in Erie in September. Like Matilda, my hippo is female; I named her Minerva, after one of my favorite Hogwarts professors, and garbed her in a purple witch's outfit to match her fuzzy fur. Granted, hippos don't really have fur, and they're not really purple, either. But a massive purple hippo is just what I found on the front cover of I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, the picture book adaptation illustrated by Bruce Whatley.
The book, published in 2005, features a little girl in pink pajamas complete with footies; they remind me of Ralphie's get-up in A Christmas Story, sans the bunny accoutrements, and she seems much more content with her clothing than he did. She has a wide, gleaming grin and sparkling eyes, and her hair is a lustrous Ginny Weasley shade of red.
The hippo is huge, and his smile is even bigger. He seems absolutely thrilled to be in her living room on Christmas morning, apparently having decided that it was worth all the trouble of Santa shoving him through the door and wrapping him in striped paper just to see the delight on his new caretaker's face. It's hard to say which of them is more excited; in one illustration, the hippo is reflected in the joyful girl's indigo eyes, while another shows the ecstatic hippo's brown eyes reflecting the girl.
The illustrations are marvelous, depicting such amusements as her mopping his head in the garage to get him squeaky clean and riding with Santa in a hippo-drawn sleigh. My favorite picture, however, which made me laugh out loud when I saw it, is the first one in which we see the girl and the hippo together. She stares in open-mouthed ardor, while he stretches out his pudgy arms for a hearty hug. Meanwhile, Dad blinks up at the hippo in half-awake confusion while Mom claps a hand over her forehead in a gesture that indicates Santa may have a rather indignant letter headed his way.
The text of the book is basically the song lyrics, though for some reason the verses begin "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas, a hippopotamus is all I want," while in the song it's "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas, only a hippopotamus will do." I'm not sure why the change was made; maybe "only a hippopotamus will do" seemed too repetitive, since that is the way the line reads during the chorus. At any rate, a recording is, most unfortunately, not included - though sheet music is - so kids who haven't heard the song won't have Peevey's rendition as a basis for comparison.
Hippo lovers, or anyone who's ever craved an unusual gift come Christmas, will likely get kick out of this fun little book. If only Santa would bring me a hippo too!
As an homage to my obsession with the song, I bought myself a hippo at Build-a-Bear when it had its grand opening here in Erie in September. Like Matilda, my hippo is female; I named her Minerva, after one of my favorite Hogwarts professors, and garbed her in a purple witch's outfit to match her fuzzy fur. Granted, hippos don't really have fur, and they're not really purple, either. But a massive purple hippo is just what I found on the front cover of I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, the picture book adaptation illustrated by Bruce Whatley.
The book, published in 2005, features a little girl in pink pajamas complete with footies; they remind me of Ralphie's get-up in A Christmas Story, sans the bunny accoutrements, and she seems much more content with her clothing than he did. She has a wide, gleaming grin and sparkling eyes, and her hair is a lustrous Ginny Weasley shade of red.
The hippo is huge, and his smile is even bigger. He seems absolutely thrilled to be in her living room on Christmas morning, apparently having decided that it was worth all the trouble of Santa shoving him through the door and wrapping him in striped paper just to see the delight on his new caretaker's face. It's hard to say which of them is more excited; in one illustration, the hippo is reflected in the joyful girl's indigo eyes, while another shows the ecstatic hippo's brown eyes reflecting the girl.
The illustrations are marvelous, depicting such amusements as her mopping his head in the garage to get him squeaky clean and riding with Santa in a hippo-drawn sleigh. My favorite picture, however, which made me laugh out loud when I saw it, is the first one in which we see the girl and the hippo together. She stares in open-mouthed ardor, while he stretches out his pudgy arms for a hearty hug. Meanwhile, Dad blinks up at the hippo in half-awake confusion while Mom claps a hand over her forehead in a gesture that indicates Santa may have a rather indignant letter headed his way.
The text of the book is basically the song lyrics, though for some reason the verses begin "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas, a hippopotamus is all I want," while in the song it's "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas, only a hippopotamus will do." I'm not sure why the change was made; maybe "only a hippopotamus will do" seemed too repetitive, since that is the way the line reads during the chorus. At any rate, a recording is, most unfortunately, not included - though sheet music is - so kids who haven't heard the song won't have Peevey's rendition as a basis for comparison.
Hippo lovers, or anyone who's ever craved an unusual gift come Christmas, will likely get kick out of this fun little book. If only Santa would bring me a hippo too!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
The de Vil Wears Prada...
When I started watching Ugly Betty last year, it reminded me of The Devil Wears Prada,
a movie I'd heard a lot about but hadn't seen. I finally amended that
this weekend, and as I watched, nearly every scene reminded me of Ugly Betty.
The two explore very similar territory: smart but frumpy girl gets a
job as an assistant at a fashion magazine and overcomes obstacles to
distinguish herself. Plucky Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) is like Betty,
while catty Emily (Emily Blunt) and sycophantic Nigel (Stanley Tucci)
are somewhat similar to Amanda and Marc and devilish editor Miranda
Priestly (Meryl Streep) recalls the scheming Wilhemina. Ultimately, I
like Ugly Betty better, but the movie, adapted from Lauren Weisberger's popular novel, is still very enjoyable.
When Andy seeks a job with Runway, a premiere fashion magazine, she doesn't even know the name of the editor-in-chief, but she doesn't let her ignorance stop her from trying to make a strong impression. Though Miranda, a cool professional with Cruella De Vil looks and a deadly calm demeanor, initially rejects Andy with a curt "That's all," a line she repeats frequently as an assertion that her authority leaves no room for debate, Andy's impassioned plea wins her a shot at the job she's told a million girls would kill for. It's not long, however, before she begins to see it as the job that would kill a million girls...
Just attempting to fit in with this ultra-fashion-conscious group is hard enough, as Ugly Betty demonstrates. But when your boss is completely unreasonable, making demands at a mile a minute, many of them ludicrous tasks like getting a flight out of a city in a hurricane and tracking down copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows a year before its publication, one can't help but wonder whether the job is really worth all the trouble, even with the promise that it will open doors to valuable opportunities.
Streep is just as sensational as all the buzz led me to believe, and she's really what makes this movie so much fun. But Hathaway is winning, and Blunt does a great job as the demeaning but hard-working assistant who, unlike Andy, aspires to work in the fashion industry. Probably my favorite character is Nigel, who showers Andy with snark but also becomes her ticket to the inner track, using his expertise to perform an extreme makeover on her which, while not as dramatic as Hathaway's transformation in The Princess Diaries, is still pretty striking. I always enjoy Tucci, and he makes Nigel both entertaining and sympathetic.
The movie is a coming-of-age story about Andy finding her way in the fashion industry and trying not to lose herself in the process. As such, the romantic subplot feels like a side trip, especially since neither of her love interests - live-in boyfriend Nate (Adrian Grenier) and famous writer Christian Thompson (Simon Baker) - is very exciting. Christian comes across as too cocky and looks about twice Andy's age, while Nate just seems completely bland and disengaged.
But people don't watch The Devil Wears Prada because they want to see a touching love story. They watch it so they can see Streep pushing Hathaway around, and there's plenty of that, though Miranda does eventually display a modicum of humanity. Is the title really a fair assessment? I'll let you be the judge!
When Andy seeks a job with Runway, a premiere fashion magazine, she doesn't even know the name of the editor-in-chief, but she doesn't let her ignorance stop her from trying to make a strong impression. Though Miranda, a cool professional with Cruella De Vil looks and a deadly calm demeanor, initially rejects Andy with a curt "That's all," a line she repeats frequently as an assertion that her authority leaves no room for debate, Andy's impassioned plea wins her a shot at the job she's told a million girls would kill for. It's not long, however, before she begins to see it as the job that would kill a million girls...
Just attempting to fit in with this ultra-fashion-conscious group is hard enough, as Ugly Betty demonstrates. But when your boss is completely unreasonable, making demands at a mile a minute, many of them ludicrous tasks like getting a flight out of a city in a hurricane and tracking down copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows a year before its publication, one can't help but wonder whether the job is really worth all the trouble, even with the promise that it will open doors to valuable opportunities.
Streep is just as sensational as all the buzz led me to believe, and she's really what makes this movie so much fun. But Hathaway is winning, and Blunt does a great job as the demeaning but hard-working assistant who, unlike Andy, aspires to work in the fashion industry. Probably my favorite character is Nigel, who showers Andy with snark but also becomes her ticket to the inner track, using his expertise to perform an extreme makeover on her which, while not as dramatic as Hathaway's transformation in The Princess Diaries, is still pretty striking. I always enjoy Tucci, and he makes Nigel both entertaining and sympathetic.
The movie is a coming-of-age story about Andy finding her way in the fashion industry and trying not to lose herself in the process. As such, the romantic subplot feels like a side trip, especially since neither of her love interests - live-in boyfriend Nate (Adrian Grenier) and famous writer Christian Thompson (Simon Baker) - is very exciting. Christian comes across as too cocky and looks about twice Andy's age, while Nate just seems completely bland and disengaged.
But people don't watch The Devil Wears Prada because they want to see a touching love story. They watch it so they can see Streep pushing Hathaway around, and there's plenty of that, though Miranda does eventually display a modicum of humanity. Is the title really a fair assessment? I'll let you be the judge!
Frankenpooh Is Frankly Fantastic
Halloween has come and gone, and this year I never got to watch It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,
which is one of those specials I really ought to invest in on DVD.
Though nothing can quite match that hilarious, distressing, spiritually
challenging classic, I had to get my Halloween fix somehow, so I popped
in Frankenpooh, a collection of three Winnie-the-Pooh shorts packaged particularly with the most spookable holiday of all in mind.
The Monster Frankenpooh finds Piglet (John Fiedler) attempting to tell a tale to an audience that includes the disrespectful Tigger (Paul Winchell), who has a history on The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh of abducting the innocuous stories of others and molding them to his own devious purposes. One of my all-time favorite episodes involves him sabotaging Piglet's bland "poohetry" reading with improvised verse that takes his nervous friend on a terrifying adventure, and that's similar to what happens here.
Of course, Pooh-style scary is not actually very scary at all. The monster Tigger concocts is merely a giant-sized Pooh (Jim Cummings) who roams through the Hundred-Acre Wood in search of honey while the other residents, garbed in Victorian clothing, band together to confront Dr. Von Piglet about all the trouble he has caused. As a writer, I get an extra kick out of these storytelling episodes and admire Tigger's improvisational creativity, though if I were Piglet I might well be a bit peeved with him...
Things That Go Piglet in the Night begins with the gang of friends all swinging together on a giant swing dangling from a limb on an accommodating tree. One of the things I love about this show is its artful animation, and this episode offers a spectacular sunset and equally stunning sunrise. In between, three separate adventures ensue, eventually coming together.
When everyone else heads home for the night, Eeyore sticks around to do some swinging, since he didn't get a turn before, and a curious Tigger heads out to investigate the resulting noise, postulating, "Either the moon has termites, or it's one of them spookables!" Relieved to find that it's neither, he gives up a good night's sleep to personally coach Eeyore on the fine art of swinging. Meanwhile, the shadowy spectacle of the flying donkey spooks the others from their beds, and a pillow-case-wearing Piglet has several encounters with Pooh, Rabbit (Ken Ransom), Owl (Hal Smith) and Gopher (Michael Gough) in which each thinks the other party is a ghost. Delightful chaos ensues.
The confusion continues with Pooh Moon, in which Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Rabbit and Gopher decide to go on a camping trip, an exercise I'm frankly a bit surprised Piglet agreed to, what with all that pesky darkety-dark and the close proximity to any number of bone-chilling beasts. Tigger seems to invent a new monster in every mildly scary Pooh episode there is, and in this case, he gets his friends all worked up about the Grab Me Gotcha, especially Rabbit, though he claims not to believe in such nonsense.
This episode is reminiscent of Little Bear because Pooh, accompanied by Piglet, takes a tumble and, looking up to see no moon in the sky where it was a moment before, comes to the conclusion that he and Piglet have landed on the "honey moon," and that they now will have the opportunity to collect moon honey. They set off across the strange landscape, coming across a variety of creepy moon creatures. Meanwhile, the others awake to find Pooh and Piglet missing and go off in search of the Grab Me Gotcha in order to retrieve them, getting filthy and scared witless in the process. One of my favorite aspects of this episode, along with Pooh's imaginative wanderings, is the sleeping bags. Gopher's doesn't really stand out, but Tigger has a big orange stripedy bag, while Pooh's is orange and red, Piglet's is pink with thin stripes and Rabbit's looks exactly like a carrot. I also love the fact that they take actual ears of corn with them to pop over the campfire.
All three of these episodes are fine examples of the craftsmanship that consistently marked The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. Though none specifically reference Halloween, all are suitably spooky, especially with the suspenseful music that kicks in every now and then. My only complaint is that only three episodes were included, since many installments in this series involved creepy happenings, often playing up the contrast between Piglet and Tigger. One that comes to mind immediately involves Christopher Robin taking his friends on a rare field trip outside the forest to a movie theater, where they see a monster movie and subsequently try to film their own, and there are several along those lines.
The video is only half an hour long; would it have hurt to include a couple extra cartoons? I'm still waiting for the day when each of the seasons is released on DVD, but so many episodes have been scattered around piecemeal, three at a time, like this that I doubt that will ever happen, which is a shame, since this is one of the best shows ever to grace a hallowed Saturday morning time slot. Apparently a few people agree with me, since its first season won a Daytime Emmy. At Halloween or any other time, Frankenpooh delivers just a hint of a shiver for young children and for all us Piglets who never grew out of our night-time jitters.
The Monster Frankenpooh finds Piglet (John Fiedler) attempting to tell a tale to an audience that includes the disrespectful Tigger (Paul Winchell), who has a history on The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh of abducting the innocuous stories of others and molding them to his own devious purposes. One of my all-time favorite episodes involves him sabotaging Piglet's bland "poohetry" reading with improvised verse that takes his nervous friend on a terrifying adventure, and that's similar to what happens here.
Of course, Pooh-style scary is not actually very scary at all. The monster Tigger concocts is merely a giant-sized Pooh (Jim Cummings) who roams through the Hundred-Acre Wood in search of honey while the other residents, garbed in Victorian clothing, band together to confront Dr. Von Piglet about all the trouble he has caused. As a writer, I get an extra kick out of these storytelling episodes and admire Tigger's improvisational creativity, though if I were Piglet I might well be a bit peeved with him...
Things That Go Piglet in the Night begins with the gang of friends all swinging together on a giant swing dangling from a limb on an accommodating tree. One of the things I love about this show is its artful animation, and this episode offers a spectacular sunset and equally stunning sunrise. In between, three separate adventures ensue, eventually coming together.
When everyone else heads home for the night, Eeyore sticks around to do some swinging, since he didn't get a turn before, and a curious Tigger heads out to investigate the resulting noise, postulating, "Either the moon has termites, or it's one of them spookables!" Relieved to find that it's neither, he gives up a good night's sleep to personally coach Eeyore on the fine art of swinging. Meanwhile, the shadowy spectacle of the flying donkey spooks the others from their beds, and a pillow-case-wearing Piglet has several encounters with Pooh, Rabbit (Ken Ransom), Owl (Hal Smith) and Gopher (Michael Gough) in which each thinks the other party is a ghost. Delightful chaos ensues.
The confusion continues with Pooh Moon, in which Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Rabbit and Gopher decide to go on a camping trip, an exercise I'm frankly a bit surprised Piglet agreed to, what with all that pesky darkety-dark and the close proximity to any number of bone-chilling beasts. Tigger seems to invent a new monster in every mildly scary Pooh episode there is, and in this case, he gets his friends all worked up about the Grab Me Gotcha, especially Rabbit, though he claims not to believe in such nonsense.
This episode is reminiscent of Little Bear because Pooh, accompanied by Piglet, takes a tumble and, looking up to see no moon in the sky where it was a moment before, comes to the conclusion that he and Piglet have landed on the "honey moon," and that they now will have the opportunity to collect moon honey. They set off across the strange landscape, coming across a variety of creepy moon creatures. Meanwhile, the others awake to find Pooh and Piglet missing and go off in search of the Grab Me Gotcha in order to retrieve them, getting filthy and scared witless in the process. One of my favorite aspects of this episode, along with Pooh's imaginative wanderings, is the sleeping bags. Gopher's doesn't really stand out, but Tigger has a big orange stripedy bag, while Pooh's is orange and red, Piglet's is pink with thin stripes and Rabbit's looks exactly like a carrot. I also love the fact that they take actual ears of corn with them to pop over the campfire.
All three of these episodes are fine examples of the craftsmanship that consistently marked The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. Though none specifically reference Halloween, all are suitably spooky, especially with the suspenseful music that kicks in every now and then. My only complaint is that only three episodes were included, since many installments in this series involved creepy happenings, often playing up the contrast between Piglet and Tigger. One that comes to mind immediately involves Christopher Robin taking his friends on a rare field trip outside the forest to a movie theater, where they see a monster movie and subsequently try to film their own, and there are several along those lines.
The video is only half an hour long; would it have hurt to include a couple extra cartoons? I'm still waiting for the day when each of the seasons is released on DVD, but so many episodes have been scattered around piecemeal, three at a time, like this that I doubt that will ever happen, which is a shame, since this is one of the best shows ever to grace a hallowed Saturday morning time slot. Apparently a few people agree with me, since its first season won a Daytime Emmy. At Halloween or any other time, Frankenpooh delivers just a hint of a shiver for young children and for all us Piglets who never grew out of our night-time jitters.
Ferrera's Ana Pursues the American Dream in Real Women Have Curves
I first became aware of America Ferrera when I watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Her performance impressed me then, and once Ugly Betty hit the airwaves I became a huge fan, so I figured it was about time I saw her motion picture debut.
Real Women Have Curves is the story of Ana (Ferrera), a recent high school graduate whose dreams of college, nurtured by her supportive teacher, Mr. Guzman (George Lopez), seem distant when she is forced to work in her older sister Estela's (Ingrid Oliu) dress factory, which is essentially a sweatshop where they labor to make fashionable dresses for a meager eighteen dollars each. Ana is incensed that those dresses then go on to sell for hundreds of dollars in pricey shops, but her hard-headed mother Carmen (Lupe Ontiveros) warns her to keep her complaints to herself.
Not that Carmen is such a model of restraint. She constantly harps on her daughters for the way they have disappointed her and is especially hard on the revolutionary Ana, whose weight she criticizes constantly. Carmen's chief concerns are putting Ana to work and marrying her off, and she has no time for her daughter's scholarly ambitions. Her father (George Cervera Jr.) is more understanding of her dreams but doesn't find them financially feasible at the moment, while her doting grandfather (Felipe de Alba) just wants her to find her "gold", whatever that may be.
While Ana works through her frustration over her situation, she finds some solace in the arms of Jimmy (Brian Sites), a fellow graduate who takes an interest in her. Generally, I find their relationship sweet, with all the tenderness of a first romance, but when Jimmy leaves for school Ana moodily bids him farewell, telling him that he'll find other girls at college and won't think twice about the chubby, insufficiently educated girl he left behind, and that's the last we see of him, though he doesn't seem that shallow and Ana's dire predictions about her own life fail to come true.
Ferrera does a fine job, and Ontiveros is a commanding presence. Her character is often comical, but the cruelty with which she treats her daughter makes her scenes somewhat uncomfortable. I'm only familiar with Lopez as a comedic actor, so it was interesting to see him in this motivational role, where he exudes teacherly concern.
The film wants to convey the message that women can go to college even though they are poor, that they can be beautiful even though they are plus-sized. It succeeds fairly well in this, though the tone is a little too preachy for my liking, and the title goes too far in the other direction, implying that skinny women are somehow lacking. The point is that body type shouldn't determine the ability to achieve one's goals.
The movie, written by Josefina Lopez and George LaVoo and directed by Patricia Cardoso, seems to aim specifically at a Hispanic-American audience. Not only is Jimmy the only major Caucasian character, most of the characters go back and forth between English and Spanish frequently, which I found confusing, particularly before it occurred to me to switch on the subtitles, since none are offered automatically when Spanish is being spoken.
Real Women Have Curves is a worthwhile tale of empowerment and certainly a testament to the acting skills of Ferrera and Ontiveros. Just make sure you turn on those subtitles...
Real Women Have Curves is the story of Ana (Ferrera), a recent high school graduate whose dreams of college, nurtured by her supportive teacher, Mr. Guzman (George Lopez), seem distant when she is forced to work in her older sister Estela's (Ingrid Oliu) dress factory, which is essentially a sweatshop where they labor to make fashionable dresses for a meager eighteen dollars each. Ana is incensed that those dresses then go on to sell for hundreds of dollars in pricey shops, but her hard-headed mother Carmen (Lupe Ontiveros) warns her to keep her complaints to herself.
Not that Carmen is such a model of restraint. She constantly harps on her daughters for the way they have disappointed her and is especially hard on the revolutionary Ana, whose weight she criticizes constantly. Carmen's chief concerns are putting Ana to work and marrying her off, and she has no time for her daughter's scholarly ambitions. Her father (George Cervera Jr.) is more understanding of her dreams but doesn't find them financially feasible at the moment, while her doting grandfather (Felipe de Alba) just wants her to find her "gold", whatever that may be.
While Ana works through her frustration over her situation, she finds some solace in the arms of Jimmy (Brian Sites), a fellow graduate who takes an interest in her. Generally, I find their relationship sweet, with all the tenderness of a first romance, but when Jimmy leaves for school Ana moodily bids him farewell, telling him that he'll find other girls at college and won't think twice about the chubby, insufficiently educated girl he left behind, and that's the last we see of him, though he doesn't seem that shallow and Ana's dire predictions about her own life fail to come true.
Ferrera does a fine job, and Ontiveros is a commanding presence. Her character is often comical, but the cruelty with which she treats her daughter makes her scenes somewhat uncomfortable. I'm only familiar with Lopez as a comedic actor, so it was interesting to see him in this motivational role, where he exudes teacherly concern.
The film wants to convey the message that women can go to college even though they are poor, that they can be beautiful even though they are plus-sized. It succeeds fairly well in this, though the tone is a little too preachy for my liking, and the title goes too far in the other direction, implying that skinny women are somehow lacking. The point is that body type shouldn't determine the ability to achieve one's goals.
The movie, written by Josefina Lopez and George LaVoo and directed by Patricia Cardoso, seems to aim specifically at a Hispanic-American audience. Not only is Jimmy the only major Caucasian character, most of the characters go back and forth between English and Spanish frequently, which I found confusing, particularly before it occurred to me to switch on the subtitles, since none are offered automatically when Spanish is being spoken.
Real Women Have Curves is a worthwhile tale of empowerment and certainly a testament to the acting skills of Ferrera and Ontiveros. Just make sure you turn on those subtitles...
Enchantment Looms Large in Loch Ness
There are many movies I'm looking forward to as this year closes, most
of which I probably won't catch in the theater. But I'm determined to at
least venture out to the cineplex once for The Water Horse, a film about the Loch Ness Monster based on a book by Babe
author Dick King-Smith. I'm not sure if it's the fact that King-Smith
is one of my favorite authors or my fascination with legendary creatures
or my utter infatuation with all things Scottish that puts this one
firmly at the top of my to-see list, but there it sits, and in
anticipation of its release, I recently re-watched Loch Ness, another charming film about that fabled beastie of the deep.
I stumbled upon the movie accidentally about ten years ago during one of those happy periods in which we had a free cable trial. At first, I didn't think I'd like it; for whatever reason, I had a notion in my head that a movie about the Loch Ness monster was likely to be scary, even though I've never found Nessie frightening in the least and even though this was the Family channel. I'm glad I stuck with it.
The movie, written by John Fusco and directed by John Henderson, centers on Dr. Jonathan Dempsey (Ted Danson), a washed-up scientist who has become a laughingstock since his intensive yeti research yielded nothing. He's become a hardened skeptic, so he's disgusted when his boss, Dr. Mercer (Harris Yulin), assigns him the task of investigating the Loch Ness monster using state-of-the-art equipment.
When he arrives in Scotland, the replacement for the aged Dr. Abernathy (Philip O'Brien), who met with an unfortunate accident during the course of his research, he meets Adrian Foote (James Frain), his earnest young research assistant. Soon, he also makes the acquaintance of Laura McFetridge (Joely Richardson), the tart owner of a bed and breakfast, and her affectionate, intuitive young daughter Isabel (Kristy Graham).
While Laura doesn't exactly make him feel at home, at least not initially, Dr. Dempsey's greatest resistance comes from other sources. He must contend with Andy Maclean (Nick Brimble), the jealous, hotheaded owner of a boat he rents, and the crusty water bailiff (Ian Holm), who disapproves of Dr. Dempsey's interference with the loch he has cared for all his life.
Danson seems to have cantankerous cynicism down to a science, so his character here isn't really anything new, but it's fun to watch him grumble his way through the sleepy town on the edge of Loch Ness until a glimpse of the creature changes his outlook. He's really not a bad guy, as evidenced by the fast friendship he forms with Isabel. When he's with her, he is at his most endearing; the adorable child brings out the best in him. It was his relationship with her that stuck most firmly in my memory from the first time around, though I also recalled him developing a romance with Laura and eventually coming to share Adrian's bright-eyed enthusiasm for Nessie.
What startled me upon the second viewing was that I had completely forgotten the keeper of the lake. Though he does not show up quite as much as the McFetridges or Adrian, his role in the drama is certainly an important one, and no doubt I would have remembered him had I seen this movie anytime after Fellowship of the Ring. Since then, I've found that Holm's presence elevates any film, so he was a lovely surprise. But top honors really must go to Graham, who was eight years old at the time and perfectly projects a sense of ethereality. She does such a splendid job, I can't imagine why she hasn't appeared in a film since.
The beautiful scenery, the lilting score tinged with traditional Scottish tunes such as Wild Mountain Thyme and the magic of Jim Henson's Creature Shop are the icing on the cake in this enchanting family film that dares you to believe...
I stumbled upon the movie accidentally about ten years ago during one of those happy periods in which we had a free cable trial. At first, I didn't think I'd like it; for whatever reason, I had a notion in my head that a movie about the Loch Ness monster was likely to be scary, even though I've never found Nessie frightening in the least and even though this was the Family channel. I'm glad I stuck with it.
The movie, written by John Fusco and directed by John Henderson, centers on Dr. Jonathan Dempsey (Ted Danson), a washed-up scientist who has become a laughingstock since his intensive yeti research yielded nothing. He's become a hardened skeptic, so he's disgusted when his boss, Dr. Mercer (Harris Yulin), assigns him the task of investigating the Loch Ness monster using state-of-the-art equipment.
When he arrives in Scotland, the replacement for the aged Dr. Abernathy (Philip O'Brien), who met with an unfortunate accident during the course of his research, he meets Adrian Foote (James Frain), his earnest young research assistant. Soon, he also makes the acquaintance of Laura McFetridge (Joely Richardson), the tart owner of a bed and breakfast, and her affectionate, intuitive young daughter Isabel (Kristy Graham).
While Laura doesn't exactly make him feel at home, at least not initially, Dr. Dempsey's greatest resistance comes from other sources. He must contend with Andy Maclean (Nick Brimble), the jealous, hotheaded owner of a boat he rents, and the crusty water bailiff (Ian Holm), who disapproves of Dr. Dempsey's interference with the loch he has cared for all his life.
Danson seems to have cantankerous cynicism down to a science, so his character here isn't really anything new, but it's fun to watch him grumble his way through the sleepy town on the edge of Loch Ness until a glimpse of the creature changes his outlook. He's really not a bad guy, as evidenced by the fast friendship he forms with Isabel. When he's with her, he is at his most endearing; the adorable child brings out the best in him. It was his relationship with her that stuck most firmly in my memory from the first time around, though I also recalled him developing a romance with Laura and eventually coming to share Adrian's bright-eyed enthusiasm for Nessie.
What startled me upon the second viewing was that I had completely forgotten the keeper of the lake. Though he does not show up quite as much as the McFetridges or Adrian, his role in the drama is certainly an important one, and no doubt I would have remembered him had I seen this movie anytime after Fellowship of the Ring. Since then, I've found that Holm's presence elevates any film, so he was a lovely surprise. But top honors really must go to Graham, who was eight years old at the time and perfectly projects a sense of ethereality. She does such a splendid job, I can't imagine why she hasn't appeared in a film since.
The beautiful scenery, the lilting score tinged with traditional Scottish tunes such as Wild Mountain Thyme and the magic of Jim Henson's Creature Shop are the icing on the cake in this enchanting family film that dares you to believe...
Monday, October 29, 2007
Crispin Glover and His Furry Pals Crank Up the Creep Factor in Willard
I was hoping that this weekend I might finally catch Ratatouille
at the dollar theater. Alas, I never managed to fit it in, but my
brother Nathan came trotting home for the day with a most rat-tastic
movie in tow, and now that I've seen it, I think it might be a while
before I can embrace Remy and his fellow rodents with the proper amount
of enthusiasm.
Glen Morgan's Willard is a 2003 remake of the 1971 film of the same name. When they realized what we were watching, Mom remarked that the original had given her nightmares, while Dad had avoided it altogether. Nathan had assured me, however, that while this version was certainly creepy, the gore was minimal, so I decided to chance it. After all, I've always found rats to be unfairly maligned creatures. I expected that when they showed up, I would find them lovable rather than disgusting, and I was right. For a while...
The focal point of the film is Willard Stiles (Crispin Glover), an extraordinarily awkward man who lives with his mean-tempered elderly mother (Jackie Burroughs) and works for the tyrannical Frank Martin (R. Lee Ermey) at the company his father founded. He remains friendless until he is moved to rescue a white rat from the adhesive trap his mother demanded he put up in the basement. He names the rat Socrates, and he is giddy with the thrill of finally having some companionship.
If it ended with this bright-eyed, philosophic rat that seems genuinely fond of the eccentric misfit, this might evolve into a touching story. Sadly, Socrates does not fly solo. Willard feeds him and his family, and every day more and more rats turn out for chow time. Initially, they do whatever he tells them to, taking their orders from Socrates, who evidently understands Willard's instructions. But how long can he maintain control over the ever-growing horde?
Back when this movie hit theaters, I saw an interview with Glover, who I knew as the nerdy, gutless George McFly in Back to the Future. I've seen plenty of strange interviews in my time; this one would have to rank in the top five. The guy just came across as a total oddball, almost as off-kilter as the character he was portraying. Now and then, I'll see a really offbeat interview with somebody like Johnny Depp or Viggo Mortensen and think, "Wow. He's so strange. I'd love to spend an afternoon chatting with him sometime." With Glover, I thought, "Wow. He's so strange. I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."
Whether he consciously cultivates that image or he's genuinely that odd, Glover seems like the perfect choice to play the unhinged Willard, who swings between victim and villain, sympathetic and diabolical. His expressive face, which usually registers some combination of rage and fear or occasional maniacal glee, is almost ghostly pale. Every word spoken with his soft voice is impeccably pronounced. Watch for hyperventilation, beads of sweat and murderous gestures in response to the maddening behavior of his mom and boss.
Burroughs, heavily made up to look as grotesque as possible, is bone-chilling as Willard's mother, who hollers throatily at him from her room in the large house they share. Though she is dependent upon him for her well-being, she still calls the shots around the house, and she wants to be sure he knows it. She wins sympathy points for her medical condition and the loss of her husband, but her despicable treatment of Willard cancels out any automatic sense of goodwill we may have toward her. Ermey pours even more unpleasantness into his role; Mr. Martin seems about ready to have a coronary at any given moment, so eager is he to ream Willard out with an explosive temper tantrum. It's no wonder Rat Boy is so messed up when he's surrounded by people like this.
The only person who treats Willard with kindness is Cathryn (Laura Harring), the new girl at work who unknowingly displaces him when she arrives. Her first impression of him involves him getting berated by his boss, and she feels sorry for him, aghast that he is being treated so unfairly. She continues to extend her hand in friendship throughout the movie. But what will happen when she finds out about Willard's Pied Piper-like tendencies?
I like rats. And I found myself quite attached to Socrates, much as I did with Mr. Jingles, the mouse in The Green Mile. He's a terribly sweet little thing. But his friends are not, particularly when engaged in the mob mentality and when led by Ben, a defiant Rodent of Unusual Size. Not since Ratigan in The Great Mouse Detective have I come across such a vicious rat, and cinematographer Robert McLachlan does an impressive job of making him look distinctively ominous, while Shirley Walker's eerie score sends shivers in all the right places. As the crowd of a couple dozen rats swells to thousands and they stop obeying the restrictions Willard places upon them, the situation gets really hairy in more ways than one.
So while I found Nathan's assessment of the film pretty accurate - only two scenes are really grotesquely gory, while another two hint darkly at blood-curdling calamity - it wasn't exactly a comforting movie. It may be enough to leave me with the creepy crawlies all week, and if I catch myself jumping at small noises, especially from the general direction of the basement, I'll know why...
Glen Morgan's Willard is a 2003 remake of the 1971 film of the same name. When they realized what we were watching, Mom remarked that the original had given her nightmares, while Dad had avoided it altogether. Nathan had assured me, however, that while this version was certainly creepy, the gore was minimal, so I decided to chance it. After all, I've always found rats to be unfairly maligned creatures. I expected that when they showed up, I would find them lovable rather than disgusting, and I was right. For a while...
The focal point of the film is Willard Stiles (Crispin Glover), an extraordinarily awkward man who lives with his mean-tempered elderly mother (Jackie Burroughs) and works for the tyrannical Frank Martin (R. Lee Ermey) at the company his father founded. He remains friendless until he is moved to rescue a white rat from the adhesive trap his mother demanded he put up in the basement. He names the rat Socrates, and he is giddy with the thrill of finally having some companionship.
If it ended with this bright-eyed, philosophic rat that seems genuinely fond of the eccentric misfit, this might evolve into a touching story. Sadly, Socrates does not fly solo. Willard feeds him and his family, and every day more and more rats turn out for chow time. Initially, they do whatever he tells them to, taking their orders from Socrates, who evidently understands Willard's instructions. But how long can he maintain control over the ever-growing horde?
Back when this movie hit theaters, I saw an interview with Glover, who I knew as the nerdy, gutless George McFly in Back to the Future. I've seen plenty of strange interviews in my time; this one would have to rank in the top five. The guy just came across as a total oddball, almost as off-kilter as the character he was portraying. Now and then, I'll see a really offbeat interview with somebody like Johnny Depp or Viggo Mortensen and think, "Wow. He's so strange. I'd love to spend an afternoon chatting with him sometime." With Glover, I thought, "Wow. He's so strange. I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley."
Whether he consciously cultivates that image or he's genuinely that odd, Glover seems like the perfect choice to play the unhinged Willard, who swings between victim and villain, sympathetic and diabolical. His expressive face, which usually registers some combination of rage and fear or occasional maniacal glee, is almost ghostly pale. Every word spoken with his soft voice is impeccably pronounced. Watch for hyperventilation, beads of sweat and murderous gestures in response to the maddening behavior of his mom and boss.
Burroughs, heavily made up to look as grotesque as possible, is bone-chilling as Willard's mother, who hollers throatily at him from her room in the large house they share. Though she is dependent upon him for her well-being, she still calls the shots around the house, and she wants to be sure he knows it. She wins sympathy points for her medical condition and the loss of her husband, but her despicable treatment of Willard cancels out any automatic sense of goodwill we may have toward her. Ermey pours even more unpleasantness into his role; Mr. Martin seems about ready to have a coronary at any given moment, so eager is he to ream Willard out with an explosive temper tantrum. It's no wonder Rat Boy is so messed up when he's surrounded by people like this.
The only person who treats Willard with kindness is Cathryn (Laura Harring), the new girl at work who unknowingly displaces him when she arrives. Her first impression of him involves him getting berated by his boss, and she feels sorry for him, aghast that he is being treated so unfairly. She continues to extend her hand in friendship throughout the movie. But what will happen when she finds out about Willard's Pied Piper-like tendencies?
I like rats. And I found myself quite attached to Socrates, much as I did with Mr. Jingles, the mouse in The Green Mile. He's a terribly sweet little thing. But his friends are not, particularly when engaged in the mob mentality and when led by Ben, a defiant Rodent of Unusual Size. Not since Ratigan in The Great Mouse Detective have I come across such a vicious rat, and cinematographer Robert McLachlan does an impressive job of making him look distinctively ominous, while Shirley Walker's eerie score sends shivers in all the right places. As the crowd of a couple dozen rats swells to thousands and they stop obeying the restrictions Willard places upon them, the situation gets really hairy in more ways than one.
So while I found Nathan's assessment of the film pretty accurate - only two scenes are really grotesquely gory, while another two hint darkly at blood-curdling calamity - it wasn't exactly a comforting movie. It may be enough to leave me with the creepy crawlies all week, and if I catch myself jumping at small noises, especially from the general direction of the basement, I'll know why...
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