My parents grew up in the turbulent sixties, when tragedies such as the
deaths of John F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. seemed to occur
with alarming frequency, riveting a nation whenever they did. By the
time I came along in 1981, things had settled down somewhat, so there
are few single newsworthy events from the last two decades of the 20th
century that stand out in my memory. The death of Princess Diana is one
of those. I couldn't ever remember having seen so many people so
overwhelmed with anguish, and though I hadn't previously paid that much
attention to the affairs of the royals, I found myself very emotionally
involved. I suspect that was the case for many.
Now that a
decade has passed, a film about the extraordinary events of that week
can be viewed with some detachment, though I was flooded with memories
as I watched The Queen, the drama about how stodgy Queen Elizabeth II (Helen Mirren)
and freshly minted Prime Minister Tony Blair (Michael Sheen) dealt with
the unprecedented outpouring of grief over the terrible accident. The
movie utilizes clips of press coverage from the time but mostly focuses
on what was happening behind the scenes.
Mirren gives a
wonderfully understated performance as the queen who helped bring her
country through World War II and has remained a dignified and
intelligent figurehead all these decades later. Initially, she comes
across as unreasonably stiff, but she soon becomes a laudable figure
struggling to remain relevant in a rapidly changing world. And she's not
all starch and pomp, either; I was surprised to see her driving a
sporty vehicle and tromping around in the countryside with her dogs. In
the end, the portrait we get of the queen is a very sympathetic one,
despite her sometimes frustrating degree of restraint.
Tony
Blair comes off even better, and while Sheen doesn't look all that much
like him, he captures his energy and optimism. We watch him try to come
to terms with the monarchy's lack of interest in engaging with the
public during what he increasingly perceives as a national crisis.
Though he desperately wants the queen to acknowledge the mood of the
country, he is disgusted by the way the people have turned on their
monarch, slamming her in all of the papers. Even his wife (Helen
McCrory) rarely has a kind word for her, speaking of her much like Mrs.
Cratchit speaks of Ebenezer Scrooge. Indeed, of all the characters
featured in prominence, she came across as the least likable, always
sniping about something. It was not a flattering portrayal.
Prince Philip (James Cromwell), meanwhile, was presented as a
cantankerous old grump, but one can hardly blame him; if the queen feels
like an anachronism, poor Prince Philip must feel downright invisible
most of the time. While I merely found Cherie Blair obnoxious, the
prince was somehow endearing in the midst of all his grumbling, partly
because I've loved Cromwell ever since Babe, partly because it's obvious that he cares deeply about his family, even if he has a hard time openly displaying his emotions.
Prince Charles (Alex Jennings), deeply bereaved despite the dissolution
of his marriage to Diana a year earlier, seems like a lost little boy
attempting, in the midst of his own sorrow, to address the needs of his
people and to assert himself to his authoritarian mother, while the
queen's advisor, Robert Janvrin (Roger Allam), gradually comes to
understand that on this matter, the queen's instincts may not serve her
as well as they usually do. Meanwhile, the feisty Queen Mum (Sylvia
Sims) observes all the goings-on, and as she complains that no one ever
lets her know what's happening, she completes the family dynamic and
it's easy to see the Windsors are not so different from the rest of us
after all.
This is a beautiful film that offers an intimate look at a private family in the public eye. Long live The Queen!
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Legend of St. Nicholas Encourages a Spirit of Giving
In the claymation special Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Rankin
and Bass purport to give us the origins of Santa Claus, explaining that
he was an orphan raised by toymakers who started his yearly distribution
of toys as a young man. They have an explanation for everything, from
how he met Mrs. Claus to why he makes his deliveries on Christmas. Of
course, they made it all up.
The Legend of St. Nicholas, written by Dandi Daley Mackall and illustrated by Guy Porfirio, has fanciful elements, but its purpose is to introduce children to the real St. Nicholas, who was neither magical nor immortal but who, motivated by his deep Christian faith, devoted his life to random acts of generosity - a sort of third-century clandestine Percy Ross.
The legend is framed by the story of Nick, a modern boy who isn't too enthused about buying Christmas gifts for his brothers and even less inclined to donate his money to charity. As he browses the CD section on a last-minute shopping trip, hoping he can get cheap enough presents that he can afford to buy one for himself, Nick overhears the store's Santa telling a story about a young man long ago with the same name but a very different outlook.
The tale is pretty much as I've heard it before. Nicholas, the only child of wealthy parents, was orphaned at a young age and decided to use his parents' fortune to improve the welfare of various poor families. Each version of the story seems to involve him slipping money for dowries into a particular household, and he does so here, but Mackall makes his task more personal by introducing three distinct characters as his best friends and having him help them.
The story is perfectly well-written, but it's the illustrations that really stand out. Porfirio makes Nicholas a vibrant youth, probably still a teenager. While the rich paintings clearly give us a sense of the setting, Nicholas and his friends also feel contemporary, easy for modern children to relate to. One of my favorite pictures shows Nicholas as a boy, visiting Asia with his parents and casting a concerned glance at the poverty-stricken children on the periphery. Each of the illustrations is soft and detailed, very appealing to readers of any age.
The book is published by Zonderkidz, a division of Zondervan, which publishes Christian books. It would make a great inclusion in a church library. Not only does it introduce an interesting part of Christian history, it encourages children to embrace the spirit of giving and recognize that, as it says in James 1:17, included in the back of the book, "Every good and perfect gift is from above."
The Legend of St. Nicholas, written by Dandi Daley Mackall and illustrated by Guy Porfirio, has fanciful elements, but its purpose is to introduce children to the real St. Nicholas, who was neither magical nor immortal but who, motivated by his deep Christian faith, devoted his life to random acts of generosity - a sort of third-century clandestine Percy Ross.
The legend is framed by the story of Nick, a modern boy who isn't too enthused about buying Christmas gifts for his brothers and even less inclined to donate his money to charity. As he browses the CD section on a last-minute shopping trip, hoping he can get cheap enough presents that he can afford to buy one for himself, Nick overhears the store's Santa telling a story about a young man long ago with the same name but a very different outlook.
The tale is pretty much as I've heard it before. Nicholas, the only child of wealthy parents, was orphaned at a young age and decided to use his parents' fortune to improve the welfare of various poor families. Each version of the story seems to involve him slipping money for dowries into a particular household, and he does so here, but Mackall makes his task more personal by introducing three distinct characters as his best friends and having him help them.
The story is perfectly well-written, but it's the illustrations that really stand out. Porfirio makes Nicholas a vibrant youth, probably still a teenager. While the rich paintings clearly give us a sense of the setting, Nicholas and his friends also feel contemporary, easy for modern children to relate to. One of my favorite pictures shows Nicholas as a boy, visiting Asia with his parents and casting a concerned glance at the poverty-stricken children on the periphery. Each of the illustrations is soft and detailed, very appealing to readers of any age.
The book is published by Zonderkidz, a division of Zondervan, which publishes Christian books. It would make a great inclusion in a church library. Not only does it introduce an interesting part of Christian history, it encourages children to embrace the spirit of giving and recognize that, as it says in James 1:17, included in the back of the book, "Every good and perfect gift is from above."
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Pan's Labyrinth a Dark, Twisted and Beautiful Adventure
When Oscar time rolled around this year, as usual I found I'd seen few of the contenders, but I had a good feeling about Pan's Labyrinth,
which my brother and I had hoped to catch the previous weekend. It came
highly recommended by many, including his friend Ian, a film
aficionado, so neither of us was shocked to see it win so many awards.
It took me eight months, but I finally saw the mystical, horrifying, ultimately hopeful Pan’s Labyrinth. This Spanish film written and directed by Guillermo del Toro focuses upon one very special girl, the quiet, dark-haired, imaginative Ofelia (Ivana Baguero). Like a reverse Cinderella, she travels to an austere castle with her sickly, pregnant mother (Ariadna Gil) and soon falls under the iron fist of a wicked stepfather. His name is Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez), and he is one of the most truly villainous characters I’ve ever encountered. Usually I can muster up some sympathy for the bad guy, but this man is so despicable I just wanted him vanquished.
Captain Vidal, a cruel, self-important man who seems to get a charge out of slaughtering civilians who may or may not be involved in an uprising against officials like him, spares real tenderness for no one except perhaps his not-yet-born son, but his regard for his heir is so self-centered that I hardly consider it a laudable character trait. Presumably he felt at least some small degree of attraction to Ofelia’s mother, but he certainly doesn’t treat her with any respect now that she has made the long and dangerous journey to be with him at this late stage of the pregnancy. Meanwhile, he leers at Mercedes (Maribel Verdu), a servant who develops a close relationship with Ofelia, but he has no affection for her.
Mercedes straddles two worlds in this intriguing movie set in 1944. While she works diligently for the captain, she has rendez-vous with the resistance in secret. Among her co-conspirators is my favorite of the secondary characters, Dr. Ferreiro (Alex Angulo), a compassionate, sophisticated physician whose skills are sorely needed for the problem pregnancy.
While all the wartime whispers begin to build in volume, Ofelia strives to survive her appalling new circumstances. A delicate, insect-like being trails her and eventually leads her to meet Pan, an ancient and rather frightful-looking faun who informs Ofelia that she is the princess of a peculiar but magnificent underworld. In order to prove herself still worthy of her immortal birthright, she must successfully complete three difficult tasks.
The delicate Baguero is exceptional in her role, perfectly portraying a girl of legendary destiny trapped by societal constraints, primarily the harsh rule of her stepfather. Her performance reminds me very much of Keisha Castle-Hughes' in Whale Rider, which similarly entwines history and myth to remarkable effect. Ofelia also carries hints of Sarah in Labyrinth and Lucy in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, both beloved tales of fantasy and morality. This film is less fantasy than magical realism, a genre I discovered in college and found fascinating.
Although the protagonist is a young girl, Pan's Labyrinth really aims at an older audience. While I found that the disconnect between the Spanish dialogue and the English subtitles softened the impact of the profanity for me, the violence was every bit as lurid. Generally, whenever the captain's on screen, it's a safe bet that unpleasantness will follow. Ofelia faces some gruesome obstacles in her fantastical challenges as well, most especially in one very frustrating scene in which she flagrantly disregards Pan's instructions and makes her task considerably more arduous. Though her journey is often painful to watch, hers is a tale of growth and courage ideal for discussion with older children; because of its graphic nature, I wouldn't recommend it for most children under 13.
Pan's Labyrinth is a film that is beautiful and terrible, strange and thought-provoking. Beware the grim obstacles lurking in the corners, but don't hesitate to get lost in this labyrinth.
It took me eight months, but I finally saw the mystical, horrifying, ultimately hopeful Pan’s Labyrinth. This Spanish film written and directed by Guillermo del Toro focuses upon one very special girl, the quiet, dark-haired, imaginative Ofelia (Ivana Baguero). Like a reverse Cinderella, she travels to an austere castle with her sickly, pregnant mother (Ariadna Gil) and soon falls under the iron fist of a wicked stepfather. His name is Captain Vidal (Sergi Lopez), and he is one of the most truly villainous characters I’ve ever encountered. Usually I can muster up some sympathy for the bad guy, but this man is so despicable I just wanted him vanquished.
Captain Vidal, a cruel, self-important man who seems to get a charge out of slaughtering civilians who may or may not be involved in an uprising against officials like him, spares real tenderness for no one except perhaps his not-yet-born son, but his regard for his heir is so self-centered that I hardly consider it a laudable character trait. Presumably he felt at least some small degree of attraction to Ofelia’s mother, but he certainly doesn’t treat her with any respect now that she has made the long and dangerous journey to be with him at this late stage of the pregnancy. Meanwhile, he leers at Mercedes (Maribel Verdu), a servant who develops a close relationship with Ofelia, but he has no affection for her.
Mercedes straddles two worlds in this intriguing movie set in 1944. While she works diligently for the captain, she has rendez-vous with the resistance in secret. Among her co-conspirators is my favorite of the secondary characters, Dr. Ferreiro (Alex Angulo), a compassionate, sophisticated physician whose skills are sorely needed for the problem pregnancy.
While all the wartime whispers begin to build in volume, Ofelia strives to survive her appalling new circumstances. A delicate, insect-like being trails her and eventually leads her to meet Pan, an ancient and rather frightful-looking faun who informs Ofelia that she is the princess of a peculiar but magnificent underworld. In order to prove herself still worthy of her immortal birthright, she must successfully complete three difficult tasks.
The delicate Baguero is exceptional in her role, perfectly portraying a girl of legendary destiny trapped by societal constraints, primarily the harsh rule of her stepfather. Her performance reminds me very much of Keisha Castle-Hughes' in Whale Rider, which similarly entwines history and myth to remarkable effect. Ofelia also carries hints of Sarah in Labyrinth and Lucy in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, both beloved tales of fantasy and morality. This film is less fantasy than magical realism, a genre I discovered in college and found fascinating.
Although the protagonist is a young girl, Pan's Labyrinth really aims at an older audience. While I found that the disconnect between the Spanish dialogue and the English subtitles softened the impact of the profanity for me, the violence was every bit as lurid. Generally, whenever the captain's on screen, it's a safe bet that unpleasantness will follow. Ofelia faces some gruesome obstacles in her fantastical challenges as well, most especially in one very frustrating scene in which she flagrantly disregards Pan's instructions and makes her task considerably more arduous. Though her journey is often painful to watch, hers is a tale of growth and courage ideal for discussion with older children; because of its graphic nature, I wouldn't recommend it for most children under 13.
Pan's Labyrinth is a film that is beautiful and terrible, strange and thought-provoking. Beware the grim obstacles lurking in the corners, but don't hesitate to get lost in this labyrinth.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Christmas for Critter Means Fun For All
Mercer Mayer has been charming the world with his stories for decades,
most famously with his extensive series of books for young readers about
a lovable character of ambiguous species named Little Critter. This
young scamp has been through all sorts of adventures, mostly of the
everyday variety that a majority of young readers will have had
themselves. In Merry Christmas, Little Critter! we see how he
celebrates Christmas with his family, which includes his parents, his
sister and, later in the book, his grandparents.
While this book, like most in the series, is paperback, the pages are thicker than usual, feeling like cardstock rather than regular paper. The reason for this is that on each right page, there is a flap to open in order to reveal the "after" portion of a before-and-after scenario. Usually the scene that emerges is of the chaotic variety, such as Little Critter and his sister crashing their sled into a barn full of pigs or Little Critter hopelessly tangling the Christmas lights he's supposed to hang.
Usually I'm not a big fan of the present tense in picture books, but it works for this simply written story and helps emphasize the fact that these are things that Little Critter does every year. It would be interesting if Mayer had introduced a tradition unique to Critters, but it's fine to watch him enjoying all the typical components of an American kid's Christmas celebration, from mailing a letter to Santa to caroling around the neighborhood.
That caroling illustration is one of my favorites, particularly the detail of the caroling books, which promise 1000 carols but don't look more than a few pages long. "Wow!" reads the blurb on the back cover. "You'll just love to sing them!" Apparently the Critters do, anyway, and the lucky folks they visit love to hear them and accordingly invite them in for eggnog.
I also love illustration of Christmas morning, in which we see the gifts given to the Critter kids. These include a variety of boyish toys for Little Critter, most amusingly a Dracula jack-in-the-box, and some that are less exciting, including a Bill Cosby-style sweater that he eyes with the utmost distaste.
The funny, vibrant pictures are the reason to buy Merry Christmas, Little Critter! There's not much of a plot other than the general progression from anticipating Christmas to savoring the day, but Mayer's sense of humor and attention to detail make a merry Christmas for Critter happy reading for the rest of us.
While this book, like most in the series, is paperback, the pages are thicker than usual, feeling like cardstock rather than regular paper. The reason for this is that on each right page, there is a flap to open in order to reveal the "after" portion of a before-and-after scenario. Usually the scene that emerges is of the chaotic variety, such as Little Critter and his sister crashing their sled into a barn full of pigs or Little Critter hopelessly tangling the Christmas lights he's supposed to hang.
Usually I'm not a big fan of the present tense in picture books, but it works for this simply written story and helps emphasize the fact that these are things that Little Critter does every year. It would be interesting if Mayer had introduced a tradition unique to Critters, but it's fine to watch him enjoying all the typical components of an American kid's Christmas celebration, from mailing a letter to Santa to caroling around the neighborhood.
That caroling illustration is one of my favorites, particularly the detail of the caroling books, which promise 1000 carols but don't look more than a few pages long. "Wow!" reads the blurb on the back cover. "You'll just love to sing them!" Apparently the Critters do, anyway, and the lucky folks they visit love to hear them and accordingly invite them in for eggnog.
I also love illustration of Christmas morning, in which we see the gifts given to the Critter kids. These include a variety of boyish toys for Little Critter, most amusingly a Dracula jack-in-the-box, and some that are less exciting, including a Bill Cosby-style sweater that he eyes with the utmost distaste.
The funny, vibrant pictures are the reason to buy Merry Christmas, Little Critter! There's not much of a plot other than the general progression from anticipating Christmas to savoring the day, but Mayer's sense of humor and attention to detail make a merry Christmas for Critter happy reading for the rest of us.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Am I the Only Movie Buff Who Didn't Like Annie Hall?
I write this review with trepidation because I am about to confess that I was not impressed with Annie Hall.
I've heard the movie is iconic, and a post-viewing investigation
revealed that it has an average rating of five stars here and an
astonishing 98 percent on Rotten Tomatoes. So I know I'm in the minority
here. But I watched it with my parents the other night, and while I
laughed a few times, mostly I wondered what all the fuss was about.
Maybe I just don't like Woody Allen all that much. Maybe I find it annoying that Alvy, the neurotic, pessimistic, rambling nerd he portrays, is constantly addressing the audience directly. I didn't like it when David Spade did it in The Emperor's New Groove, and I don't like it here. Maybe I'm concerned that I see myself in the nervous little boy in the flashback who can't do his homework because he's worried about the universe imploding. I hate to give the guy a hard time since he already seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, but I sure hope I haven't grown up to be like him.
Maybe I just don't find the romance between him and Annie (Diane Keaton) particularly touching or hilarious. Maybe it strikes me as tedious that a majority of his conversations seem to be about sex. Maybe I don't like the way the film jumps around between flashbacks, real-time and imaginary scenarios, sometimes without any clear indication of what is happening. Maybe the whole thing feels dated. Maybe I feel stupid because I just don't get it. Maybe it's all of those things. Maybe it's more.
That's not to say that I didn't get any enjoyment out of the movie. I did laugh aloud sometimes at Alvy's dry observations, and I thought some of the film devices were clever, such as the brief interlude with him as a cartoon character interacting with the queen from Snow White and the scene in which he daydreams about conjuring up Marshall McLuhan to silence an obnoxious faux-intellectual fellow filmgoer.
And it's fun to pick out not-yet-famous folks in minor roles: Jeff Goldblum as a guest at a party, Sigourney Weaver as one of Alvy's dates, John Glover as one of Annie's former flames, Christopher Walken as her intense, probably psychotic brother. And of course, I was keeping my eyes peeled for Paul Simon. It took him a long time to show up, but he finally did, and it was a treat to see him exercise his acting chops, which I've previously seen him do on Saturday Night Live with hilarious results.
While the film doesn't feel terribly edgy considering the sort of stuff that shows up on prime time television every night, I was nonetheless a bit surprised that it was only rated PG. Of course, the significance of ratings seems to have shifted somewhat since then. When I see "PG," I automatically think "family movie". This isn't. It's inappropriate for kids, and frankly, I think most would be bored stiff. However, there's really not much profanity or nudity or any of the other criteria to push it up to the next level, since "PG-13" didn't exist back then.
I'm not sorry I rented Annie Hall, but I would never buy it and have no desire to watch it again. I suspect I'm missing the point. Maybe I don't care.
Maybe I just don't like Woody Allen all that much. Maybe I find it annoying that Alvy, the neurotic, pessimistic, rambling nerd he portrays, is constantly addressing the audience directly. I didn't like it when David Spade did it in The Emperor's New Groove, and I don't like it here. Maybe I'm concerned that I see myself in the nervous little boy in the flashback who can't do his homework because he's worried about the universe imploding. I hate to give the guy a hard time since he already seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, but I sure hope I haven't grown up to be like him.
Maybe I just don't find the romance between him and Annie (Diane Keaton) particularly touching or hilarious. Maybe it strikes me as tedious that a majority of his conversations seem to be about sex. Maybe I don't like the way the film jumps around between flashbacks, real-time and imaginary scenarios, sometimes without any clear indication of what is happening. Maybe the whole thing feels dated. Maybe I feel stupid because I just don't get it. Maybe it's all of those things. Maybe it's more.
That's not to say that I didn't get any enjoyment out of the movie. I did laugh aloud sometimes at Alvy's dry observations, and I thought some of the film devices were clever, such as the brief interlude with him as a cartoon character interacting with the queen from Snow White and the scene in which he daydreams about conjuring up Marshall McLuhan to silence an obnoxious faux-intellectual fellow filmgoer.
And it's fun to pick out not-yet-famous folks in minor roles: Jeff Goldblum as a guest at a party, Sigourney Weaver as one of Alvy's dates, John Glover as one of Annie's former flames, Christopher Walken as her intense, probably psychotic brother. And of course, I was keeping my eyes peeled for Paul Simon. It took him a long time to show up, but he finally did, and it was a treat to see him exercise his acting chops, which I've previously seen him do on Saturday Night Live with hilarious results.
While the film doesn't feel terribly edgy considering the sort of stuff that shows up on prime time television every night, I was nonetheless a bit surprised that it was only rated PG. Of course, the significance of ratings seems to have shifted somewhat since then. When I see "PG," I automatically think "family movie". This isn't. It's inappropriate for kids, and frankly, I think most would be bored stiff. However, there's really not much profanity or nudity or any of the other criteria to push it up to the next level, since "PG-13" didn't exist back then.
I'm not sorry I rented Annie Hall, but I would never buy it and have no desire to watch it again. I suspect I'm missing the point. Maybe I don't care.
Half the Hundred-Acre Gang Gathers for Christmas With Pooh
When we put out our Christmas decorations later this month,
Winnie-the-Pooh will be popping up all over our living room. I can't
help but love the tubby little cubby, and over the past ten or fifteen
years, he has exploded in popularity so that new tie-in products are
constantly arriving. I have enough Pooh ornaments to fill my own
Christmas tree, to say nothing of the wall decorations, plush figures
and various other Pooh-related items. Among those assorted other items
are books, of which I have several dozen. One that I just came across is
Christmas With Pooh, a teensy weensy shaped board book written by Frank Berrios and illustrated by the Disney Storybook artists.
It's the artists who have the lion's share of the work here, since most pages feature only one or two short sentences. There is rhyme in this book, but it's not very well done; most times there is no metric consistency among the lines, which doesn't make for a very smooth read. Berrios had so little to do here, it's a shame he didn't expend a bit of extra effort to make the rhyme work better. It's not as though the book really has any sort of plot; it's just a series of snapshots from the Hundred-Acre Wood Christmas celebration, and there aren't very many of them since the book is only 16 pages long.
The pictures, starting with the cover, which features Pooh in a Santa hat against a bright green background, are lively and richly colored. Only half of the woodland residents seem to be in on the festivities, which include decorating a scrawny Charlie Brown-ish tree, watching the snow fall, singing Christmas carols and exchanging gifts.
Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Eeyore and Roo are present, but there's no sign of Kanga, Gopher, Owl, Christopher Robin or, most surprisingly, Rabbit. I would've expected to see him before Roo, but maybe he's in one of his cranky moods and not inclined to participate in his friends' frivolities. At any rate, I don't mind that it focuses on only a few characters. Since this is aimed at very young pre-readers, it's easier to stick with five, and anyway, ten characters couldn't really fit on one of those tiny two-page spreads. Not that they all would need to be shown together, but since the book is concentrating on the friends' comradeship, it makes sense to show the ensemble as much as possible.
Christmas With Pooh is the perfect fit for a two-year-old's stocking, and those little hands will find it easy to grasp the thick pages. The book itself is sturdy even if the story is a little flimsy, and the eye-catching pictures of Pooh and pals make this a tiny yuletide delight.
It's the artists who have the lion's share of the work here, since most pages feature only one or two short sentences. There is rhyme in this book, but it's not very well done; most times there is no metric consistency among the lines, which doesn't make for a very smooth read. Berrios had so little to do here, it's a shame he didn't expend a bit of extra effort to make the rhyme work better. It's not as though the book really has any sort of plot; it's just a series of snapshots from the Hundred-Acre Wood Christmas celebration, and there aren't very many of them since the book is only 16 pages long.
The pictures, starting with the cover, which features Pooh in a Santa hat against a bright green background, are lively and richly colored. Only half of the woodland residents seem to be in on the festivities, which include decorating a scrawny Charlie Brown-ish tree, watching the snow fall, singing Christmas carols and exchanging gifts.
Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Eeyore and Roo are present, but there's no sign of Kanga, Gopher, Owl, Christopher Robin or, most surprisingly, Rabbit. I would've expected to see him before Roo, but maybe he's in one of his cranky moods and not inclined to participate in his friends' frivolities. At any rate, I don't mind that it focuses on only a few characters. Since this is aimed at very young pre-readers, it's easier to stick with five, and anyway, ten characters couldn't really fit on one of those tiny two-page spreads. Not that they all would need to be shown together, but since the book is concentrating on the friends' comradeship, it makes sense to show the ensemble as much as possible.
Christmas With Pooh is the perfect fit for a two-year-old's stocking, and those little hands will find it easy to grasp the thick pages. The book itself is sturdy even if the story is a little flimsy, and the eye-catching pictures of Pooh and pals make this a tiny yuletide delight.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Flushed Away is Splendidly Silly
Two years ago, I had the opportunity to savor Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit.
I loved it and was thrilled when I learned that Aardman Animations was
working on another movie, this time about a refined mouse who is flushed
down into London's sewer system by an uninvited houseguest. Today, I
finally saw Flushed Away, and while it's not my favorite of Aardman's film projects - that distinction must go to the phenomenal Chicken Run - it certainly is deserving of accolades.
While I'm used to the somewhat choppy appearance of lovable inventor Wallace, Flushed Away is a work of computer animation rather than claymation, and as such it has a much smoother look to it. Moreover, though I adore Wallace, generally I prefer the non-human Aardman characters to the human ones. They just look better, so I really don't miss the people in this movie. The frogs and toads, with their long, spindly legs and squat bodies, are rather strange-looking, but the mice, of which there are many, look fantastic, and I think the singing, shrieking slugs (none of which, the credits promise, were "a-salted" during the making of this film) are pretty cute.
The main character is Roddy St. James (Hugh Jackman), a well-to-do mouse who lives alone in a golden cage in Kensington. When coarse sewer rat Sid (Shane Richie) shows up during his owners' absence, Roddy's attempt to get rid of him goes horribly awry and he winds up taking a wild ride into London's underbelly, where he soon meets up with feisty barge mouse Rita (Kate Winslet), who is being pursued by the Machiavellian Toad (Ian McKellan) and his two flunkies, wisecracking Spike (Andy Serkis) and gentle Whitey (Bill Nighy). All Roddy wants is to get back home, but meanwhile he gets wind of a plot that could destroy the vibrant rodent civilization that has sprung up along the banks of the green river. Can the vile Toad and his sneaky French cousin, Le Frog (Jean Reno), be stopped?
With such an A-list voice cast, the characters spring to fantastic life. McKellan is deliciously over-the-top, Winslet is almost unrecognizably low-class, Jackman is suave and Richie obnoxious. My favorite cast member is Nighy, with his slow, rumbling speech that conveys the henchman's contemplative but slightly dim-witted nature. And every time those slugs shrieked in unison, I squealed in delight.
The action in the hour-and-a-half-long movie is fast-paced, with plenty of humor to spare. I especially like the nods at other films, such as the fact that when Roddy is going through the dollhouse wardrobe, one of the outfits is Wallace's green sweater-vest, white shirt and red tie or that as he is making his rickety way to the sewer, a little orange fish inquires, "Have you seen my dad?"
This is a very silly movie, with more laughs than the marvelous but dry Curse of the Were-Rabbit. If madcap British comedy is your thing and you don't mind the unsanitary setting, Flushed Away is fantastically fun.
While I'm used to the somewhat choppy appearance of lovable inventor Wallace, Flushed Away is a work of computer animation rather than claymation, and as such it has a much smoother look to it. Moreover, though I adore Wallace, generally I prefer the non-human Aardman characters to the human ones. They just look better, so I really don't miss the people in this movie. The frogs and toads, with their long, spindly legs and squat bodies, are rather strange-looking, but the mice, of which there are many, look fantastic, and I think the singing, shrieking slugs (none of which, the credits promise, were "a-salted" during the making of this film) are pretty cute.
The main character is Roddy St. James (Hugh Jackman), a well-to-do mouse who lives alone in a golden cage in Kensington. When coarse sewer rat Sid (Shane Richie) shows up during his owners' absence, Roddy's attempt to get rid of him goes horribly awry and he winds up taking a wild ride into London's underbelly, where he soon meets up with feisty barge mouse Rita (Kate Winslet), who is being pursued by the Machiavellian Toad (Ian McKellan) and his two flunkies, wisecracking Spike (Andy Serkis) and gentle Whitey (Bill Nighy). All Roddy wants is to get back home, but meanwhile he gets wind of a plot that could destroy the vibrant rodent civilization that has sprung up along the banks of the green river. Can the vile Toad and his sneaky French cousin, Le Frog (Jean Reno), be stopped?
With such an A-list voice cast, the characters spring to fantastic life. McKellan is deliciously over-the-top, Winslet is almost unrecognizably low-class, Jackman is suave and Richie obnoxious. My favorite cast member is Nighy, with his slow, rumbling speech that conveys the henchman's contemplative but slightly dim-witted nature. And every time those slugs shrieked in unison, I squealed in delight.
The action in the hour-and-a-half-long movie is fast-paced, with plenty of humor to spare. I especially like the nods at other films, such as the fact that when Roddy is going through the dollhouse wardrobe, one of the outfits is Wallace's green sweater-vest, white shirt and red tie or that as he is making his rickety way to the sewer, a little orange fish inquires, "Have you seen my dad?"
This is a very silly movie, with more laughs than the marvelous but dry Curse of the Were-Rabbit. If madcap British comedy is your thing and you don't mind the unsanitary setting, Flushed Away is fantastically fun.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Dora Wishes Kids Feliz Navidad
There are several shows for very young children that I find enormously entertaining. Sesame Street. Jakers! The Adventures of Piggley Winks. And, of course, The New Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh. But some of them, especially those whose aims are primarily educational, leave me a little cold. Dora the Explorer is one of those.
I think having Dora teach kids Spanish is a cool idea, don't get me wrong. And perhaps those in the intended viewing group don't find it jarring to be asked questions by a television character, who then pauses to allow the children to answer. Saturday Night Live recently spoofed the show with a cartoon about a girl named Maraka, and while it was occasionally in poor taste, I found her abrupt pauses to ask random questions pretty entertaining. The technique makes for interactive learning, and it's certainly not any more awkward than an investigation on Blues Clues. But I'll take Sesame Street, with Maria's counting song and Rosita's Spanish lessons, over Dora any day.
Still, I took a peek at Dora's Christmas Adventure, a sturdy Christmas tree-shaped board book by Christine Ricci and illustrated by Piero Piluso. Like Jingle Bell Christmas - featuring the Backyardigans, also staples on Nick Jr. - it incorporates foil, giving its pages a sparkly look, and flaps, which allows for a more interactive experience, beyond the fact that Dora, who narrates the story in simple prose form, encourages the reader to interact with the book.
Dora, who winds up on a journey to the North Pole with her motley crew of useful companions, asks children to engage with the plot by searching for hidden items, such as Santa's missing articles of clothing. I'm not sure if it's comforting or worrisome to find that Santa is so scatterbrained... At least he's on the ball enough to get Dora to the first stop on his list, which is the reader's house. That's a pretty nifty trick, considering that thousands of different kids will probably read this book; let's hope they don't compare notes. Even if two friends were reading the book together, this aspect of the story would stretch Santa's magic to an absurd level, but I guess if he can deliver toys to kids all around the world in one night, he must have figured out some way of being in two places at once.
There's not a big emphasis on the Spanish in this book. Only four phrases are in Spanish, and Feliz Navidad is probably the only one worth mentioning. If you happen to have a recording of that song, playing it after finishing the book might be a good way to extend the experience. Of the Nick Jr. Christmas books out this year, I think the Backyardigans' is the best, but Dora's isn't bad, especially if you don't mind inanimate objects taking Spanish instructions from little girls.
I think having Dora teach kids Spanish is a cool idea, don't get me wrong. And perhaps those in the intended viewing group don't find it jarring to be asked questions by a television character, who then pauses to allow the children to answer. Saturday Night Live recently spoofed the show with a cartoon about a girl named Maraka, and while it was occasionally in poor taste, I found her abrupt pauses to ask random questions pretty entertaining. The technique makes for interactive learning, and it's certainly not any more awkward than an investigation on Blues Clues. But I'll take Sesame Street, with Maria's counting song and Rosita's Spanish lessons, over Dora any day.
Still, I took a peek at Dora's Christmas Adventure, a sturdy Christmas tree-shaped board book by Christine Ricci and illustrated by Piero Piluso. Like Jingle Bell Christmas - featuring the Backyardigans, also staples on Nick Jr. - it incorporates foil, giving its pages a sparkly look, and flaps, which allows for a more interactive experience, beyond the fact that Dora, who narrates the story in simple prose form, encourages the reader to interact with the book.
Dora, who winds up on a journey to the North Pole with her motley crew of useful companions, asks children to engage with the plot by searching for hidden items, such as Santa's missing articles of clothing. I'm not sure if it's comforting or worrisome to find that Santa is so scatterbrained... At least he's on the ball enough to get Dora to the first stop on his list, which is the reader's house. That's a pretty nifty trick, considering that thousands of different kids will probably read this book; let's hope they don't compare notes. Even if two friends were reading the book together, this aspect of the story would stretch Santa's magic to an absurd level, but I guess if he can deliver toys to kids all around the world in one night, he must have figured out some way of being in two places at once.
There's not a big emphasis on the Spanish in this book. Only four phrases are in Spanish, and Feliz Navidad is probably the only one worth mentioning. If you happen to have a recording of that song, playing it after finishing the book might be a good way to extend the experience. Of the Nick Jr. Christmas books out this year, I think the Backyardigans' is the best, but Dora's isn't bad, especially if you don't mind inanimate objects taking Spanish instructions from little girls.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Sing Along With the Backyardigans This Christmas
We haven't gotten Nickelodeon at my house for years, so I haven't kept
up with its current crop of kids' shows, but one rainy morning last year
I was babysitting, and I was introduced to the charming quintet known
as the Backyardigans. These cheerful CGI creatures, voiced by children,
love to spend their days together. Though they never venture much beyond
their backyards, their imaginations are vivid enough that each day they
can embark on a fantastic journey.
The friends' upbeat personalities, animal forms and fondness for pretending and singing remind me of Muppet Babies, which I watched regularly when I was a youngster. The characters include Pablo, a blue penguin; Tyrone, an orange moose; Tasha, a yellow hippo; Austin, a purple kangaroo; and Uniqua, a pink something-or-other.
In Jingle Bell Christmas, a mid-sized board book, each of the characters has a two-page spread in which to sing, to the tune of Jingle Bells, about the fact that he or she is rushing off to meet the other Backyardigans with a hidden present in tow. On the final two-page spread, all the characters are together, and they sing in unison, or at least that's how I imagine it.
Of course, we're not actually hearing the singing; there isn't any included recording or a button to press so kids can hear the tune. But the fact that the text is written to go along with the kid-friendly Christmas carol makes it extra-fun, since children can sing the words rather than just reading them.
The book is written by Catharine Lukas and illustrated by The Artifact Group. It's very short, but there's still a story to it, as it involves each of the friends heading off to the pre-arranged meeting place, and it's fun to look at the pictures and see the differences in clothing and gift wrap and surrounding scenery. Making things even more fun is the fact that the pages are embellished with foil, making each illustration shiny and sparkly. Also included are a number of flaps on each page - 20 in all - so kids won't see all there is to see at one glance.
In the end, the happy friends exchange their presents, which all turn out to be hats of some variety, in front of a large Christmas tree. There's such a jubilant tone to this book, with all the bright colors and wide smiles and the spirit of generosity that permeates the stiff pages. "Oh, what fun it is to give a gift on Christmas Day!" goes the refrain. This jingly, joyful book great way to demonstrate to toddlers that it is better to give than to receive.
The friends' upbeat personalities, animal forms and fondness for pretending and singing remind me of Muppet Babies, which I watched regularly when I was a youngster. The characters include Pablo, a blue penguin; Tyrone, an orange moose; Tasha, a yellow hippo; Austin, a purple kangaroo; and Uniqua, a pink something-or-other.
In Jingle Bell Christmas, a mid-sized board book, each of the characters has a two-page spread in which to sing, to the tune of Jingle Bells, about the fact that he or she is rushing off to meet the other Backyardigans with a hidden present in tow. On the final two-page spread, all the characters are together, and they sing in unison, or at least that's how I imagine it.
Of course, we're not actually hearing the singing; there isn't any included recording or a button to press so kids can hear the tune. But the fact that the text is written to go along with the kid-friendly Christmas carol makes it extra-fun, since children can sing the words rather than just reading them.
The book is written by Catharine Lukas and illustrated by The Artifact Group. It's very short, but there's still a story to it, as it involves each of the friends heading off to the pre-arranged meeting place, and it's fun to look at the pictures and see the differences in clothing and gift wrap and surrounding scenery. Making things even more fun is the fact that the pages are embellished with foil, making each illustration shiny and sparkly. Also included are a number of flaps on each page - 20 in all - so kids won't see all there is to see at one glance.
In the end, the happy friends exchange their presents, which all turn out to be hats of some variety, in front of a large Christmas tree. There's such a jubilant tone to this book, with all the bright colors and wide smiles and the spirit of generosity that permeates the stiff pages. "Oh, what fun it is to give a gift on Christmas Day!" goes the refrain. This jingly, joyful book great way to demonstrate to toddlers that it is better to give than to receive.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Embrace the Warmth of Bear's First Christmas
Bears and Christmas books seem to go together especially well. Rarely have I seen such a harmonious pairing of the two as in Bear's First Christmas,
written by Robert Kinerk and illustrated by Jim LaMarche. Just a glance
at the cover, which shows the shaggy young bear catching snowflakes on
his tongue in the pink light of sunrise, gives a good indication of the
beauty to follow.
Kinerk weaves his tale in rhyme, set in the whimsical Aunt Mildred font. I don't usually pay much mind to the lettering in books, but this seems so perfect for the cozy story that I had to mention it. I've found many Christmas books that rhyme sloppily, with little attention to meter. That's not the case here. The fairy tale-like narration flows smoothly and artfully, never detracting from the wonder of the gloriously illustrated pages.
The story begins with the bear going to sleep for the winter. Just before he does, he notices a "brave little tree" outside his cave that "struggled to grow where no tree ought to be." He intends to sleep through the winter, but his slumber is interrupted by the sound of music, and in venturing out to investigate the source, he happens upon a hungry crow, a frustrated moose and a cold family of pheasants.
He sets aside his goal to help them, but the music continues, and eventually they find themselves gazing together through a picture window at a family singing carols in the hazy glow of Christmas tree lights. What a magnificent sight! But it's still a frosty night, and the bear and his friends need a warm place to stay...
The book took a slightly different turn than I expected. I thought it might be one of those stories like The Christmas Visitor, in which the protagonist expects a kingly visitor but instead opens his home to a series of paupers, only to discover that he has been playing host to his expected guest after all. The bear does put aside his own desires temporarily in order to come to the aid of his fellow creatures, but they remain with him, so that the story becomes one primarily of fellowship.
Bear's First Christmas is written with enough sophistication to appeal to older readers, while its poetic narration, comparable to that in A Visit From St. Nicholas, and glowing paintings, done in acrylic and colored pencil, make it a great read-aloud for younger children. Fans of the series of bear books by Karma Wilson and Jane Chapman should also delight in this warm and fuzzy woodland tale.
Kinerk weaves his tale in rhyme, set in the whimsical Aunt Mildred font. I don't usually pay much mind to the lettering in books, but this seems so perfect for the cozy story that I had to mention it. I've found many Christmas books that rhyme sloppily, with little attention to meter. That's not the case here. The fairy tale-like narration flows smoothly and artfully, never detracting from the wonder of the gloriously illustrated pages.
The story begins with the bear going to sleep for the winter. Just before he does, he notices a "brave little tree" outside his cave that "struggled to grow where no tree ought to be." He intends to sleep through the winter, but his slumber is interrupted by the sound of music, and in venturing out to investigate the source, he happens upon a hungry crow, a frustrated moose and a cold family of pheasants.
He sets aside his goal to help them, but the music continues, and eventually they find themselves gazing together through a picture window at a family singing carols in the hazy glow of Christmas tree lights. What a magnificent sight! But it's still a frosty night, and the bear and his friends need a warm place to stay...
The book took a slightly different turn than I expected. I thought it might be one of those stories like The Christmas Visitor, in which the protagonist expects a kingly visitor but instead opens his home to a series of paupers, only to discover that he has been playing host to his expected guest after all. The bear does put aside his own desires temporarily in order to come to the aid of his fellow creatures, but they remain with him, so that the story becomes one primarily of fellowship.
Bear's First Christmas is written with enough sophistication to appeal to older readers, while its poetic narration, comparable to that in A Visit From St. Nicholas, and glowing paintings, done in acrylic and colored pencil, make it a great read-aloud for younger children. Fans of the series of bear books by Karma Wilson and Jane Chapman should also delight in this warm and fuzzy woodland tale.
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