Travel to the Nearest Video Store to Get Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Working in a bookstore, I’m usually pretty up on what books are especially popular with each demographic. Within the young adult section, very few titles have done so well lately as Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and its sequels. I didn’t really know much about the book, however, until the movie came out. Around the same time, my friend read the book, and she heartily recommended it, and we decided it would be a great movie to go see together sometime. That “sometime” finally arrived a couple weeks ago, when the film hit video stores. At a mild PG, it’s a teen flick that celebrates friendship and family, making it an ideal pick for sleepovers or family film nights.

When I was in elementary school, I used to read a series of books entitled Friends 4-Ever. Each volume consisted largely of the correspondences of four friends to one another. Each of them picked out special stationery and wrote letters that they signed with clever phrases beginning with “Yours till the…” This film reminds me of that series with its focus on four lifelong friends who have been separated from one another but keep one another close through the mail. But their secret lies not just in writing to one another. When they find a pair of jeans that mysteriously fits each of them perfectly, they decide to share the pants, wearing them for a week before sending them off to the next lucky recipient. Whoever has the pants will have a little piece of her friends with her, and they will hopefully bring good fortune.

The girls in question are Carmen (America Ferrera), Bridget (Blake Lively), Lena (Alexis Bledel) and Tibby (Amber Tamblyn). The movie is almost four separate movies as it cuts from one girl to the next, developing four very different stories. The pants provide a common element, and each of the girls has at least one voice-over in the form of the letter accompanying the magical garment.

Carmen, who provides narration at the beginning of the film in which she introduces us to the group, is an aspiring writer of Puerto Rican descent. Her father (Bradley Whitford) left her and her mother six years earlier, and she has seen him only a few times since, so she is thrilled at the prospect of spending an entire summer with him in his home. The vacation quickly turns sour, however, when he surprises her with his new suburban life in a development – with a new family to go with it. Lydia (Nancy Travis) and her teenage children, Paul (Kyle Schmid) and Krista (Emily Tennant), strike Carmen as some sort of eerie Barbie-doll family, particularly the way-too-perky mother-daughter twosome. Paul, meanwhile, scarcely says a word throughout her visit. As plans for the upcoming wedding proceed, Carmen grows more and more uncomfortable, feeling as though she has been replaced and has no part in this new life her father has constructed for himself. Of the four stories, hers strikes me as the most depressing, and though the film leaves us with some resolution, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last.

Bridget is by far my least favorite of the four, and I wouldn’t have complained if her part of the film had been excised entirely. Her character never appealed to me at all until a moment toward the end in which she reminisces about a treasured moment with her mother, who committed suicide. (With Tamblyn in the film, I couldn’t help but draw lots of Joan of Arcadia connections, and I found it interesting that this character’s backstory was so similar to that of Adam Rove, Joan’s sometime boyfriend, though the two characters react to their mothers’ suicides in almost opposite ways.) It seems I should feel sorry for Bridget because of what she’s been through, but I don’t. I find her actions, particularly at soccer camp, obnoxious and overbearing, and her friends’ descriptions of her don’t really seem to match up with what I see on the screen. But she is loyal to her trio of buddies, and they stand by her when several weeks of flirtation with soccer coach Eric (Mike Vogel) lead to a gnawing emptiness that threatens to consume her upon her arrival back home.

Lena, in contrast to Bridget, is a shrinking violet. Sweet and quiet, she sees her vacation in sun-soaked Greece as an opportunity to spend quality time with her grandparents, gregarious Yia Yia (Maria Konstadarou) and taciturn Papou (George Touliatos), and draw idyllic locales. When hunky, free-spirited Kostos (Michael Rady) takes a shine to her, she isn’t sure what to make of his affections, particularly when she learns a Romeo and Juliet-style animosity exists between her family and his. I would say of the four stories, hers is the happiest, which was rather gratifying since she reminds me so much of myself. She also undergoes a significant change in her way of looking at the world that still leaves her integrity uncompromised.

Aside from a general interest in the story, what really drew me to Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants was Amber Tamblyn, particularly after I learned that my favorite show was axed by Les “Let’s Skew Younger” Moonves. Never mind that a majority of the major characters in Joan of Arcadia were teenagers… Anyway, she did a brilliant job on that show, so I was eager to see what she would be like in this film. Oddly enough, blue-haired, angsty-documentary-making Tibby’s a lot like Joan: sarcastic, pouty, but ultimately good-hearted and open to a life-changing encounter with another individual. While on the surface the friendship she unwittingly cultivates with an eccentric 12-year-old (Jenna Boyd) is reminiscent of Joan’s relationship with death-obsessed young Rocky, like God in all his various forms on the show, young Bailey helps the jaded Tibby to see the promising possibilities inherent in each individual. Ironically, though Tibby is the only one of the four to stay home all summer, it is she who undergoes change at the deepest level, and I found her story easily the most moving of the four, inspiring and heart-wrenching.

The film celebrates the power of friendship and its ability to endure, and even be strengthened by, distances. The girls are very different, and apart from one another they shine in ways they would not have as part of the group, much as Merry and Pippin come into their own when they are finally separated from one another for a time in Return of the King. But when they are reunited, the bond is more solid than ever. There is very little in this film that could be deemed offensive, and the only story line that strays ever so subtly into more PG-13 territory is Bridget’s. Much is left to the viewer’s imagination, however, so there’s nothing to be particularly concerned about. A fine film for friends, for mothers and daughters, for anyone looking for a wholesome, thoughtful movie, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is well worth a trip to the video store.

13 Going on 30 Isn't Big, But It Is a Big Success

I have been renting a lot of very good movies lately. Am I just in a really good mood, such that even From Justin to Kelly would look amazing to me were I watching it for the first time? Have I developed an especially keen eye for movies? Is it just that a lot of good ones have landed on the shelves within the last couple years? I don’t know what the answer is. I do know that as soon as I watched 13 Going on 30, I declared it one of the sweetest movies I’d ever seen, and I was more than happy to have a reprise viewing the next day with my brother. I liked it enough to draw favorable comparisons with several other excellent movies, whose titles I will mention later. It carried me away so fully that when my mom suggested I really ought to give the film a lower rating than Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, which we’d also rented, I balked. I expected I probably would find it mildly entertaining, with plenty of amusing moments, most of which hopefully would not earn the PG-13 rating. I did not expect to see a film of such incredible sweetness, and I’ve been savoring it all week.

The film begins in the 80s, where Jenna (Christa Allen) is quickly introduced as an awkward girl on the cusp of her teen years desperate to be embraced by the Six Chicks, a stereotypical group of blonde, pencil-thin, snotty clones. While Matty (Sean Marquette), her next-door neighbor and best friend, endeavors to make her birthday a truly special and memorable experience, Jenna is much more interested in having the Six Chicks – led by a first-class brat named Lucy (Alexandra Kyle) – and dreamy jock Chris (Alex Black) at her party. Already loaded with teen angst, she pores over Poise, her favorite magazine, longing to be "30 and flirty and thriving.” When a party gone predictably askew meets thoughtful Matty’s wishing dust, Jenna is off for the adventure of a lifetime and an incredible lesson in regret and appreciation for the things that are truly important.

When I first saw previews for this film, I thought, “Aha, a rip-off on Big.” Only difference is that it’s a girl this time. But in truth, while both films feature adults splendidly portraying children suddenly thrust into adult bodies and responsibilities, this film has far more in common ultimately with the long line of movies about unpopular people suddenly getting everything they always dreamed of, only to discover that what they had in the first place was far more fulfilling. Big was a coming-of-age story of sorts, or coming to realize that it is best to relish one’s current age rather than rushing on toward a supposedly grander time. 13 Going on 30 is much more about relationships and wrong turns.

Unlike Josh, Tom Hanks’ character in Big, Jenna is catapulted 17 years into the future, where she has more than half a life worth of history of which she has no knowledge. She’s living in a ritzy apartment, dating a hockey star (Samuel Ball) who's more than a little hot on himself, schmoozing with the husband (Ian Barford) of a co-worker, working as an editor at the magazine she loves so much. She’s a gorgeous woman on the outside, but from everything she gathers, she has been vile on the inside for quite some time. Lucy (Judy Greer) is now her “best friend,” if such a term can fairly be applied to anyone so self-absorbed and callous, and Matty (Mark Ruffalo) hasn’t spoken to her in years, once she made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Like the clueless caterpillars in Hope for the Flowers, she’s been willing to destroy anyone and everyone in her rise to the top, and most of her associates cower when she comes near, while her parents have long since ceased to expect her to take an interest in their affairs.

Jenna is shocked to discover the person she has become. Thrilled as she is by her chic frame, ultra-cool friend and dream job, she is lost and frightened in an unfamiliar world. She can’t even turn to her parents for help, as they are off on a cruise. Her only possible crutch is Matty, and she finds herself relying on him increasingly. Though he is perplexed by her sudden reappearance in his life, he is all too happy to spend a few precious days with his long lost friend before his upcoming marriage relocates him to Chicago with a woman whose affections seem increasingly unsatisfactory. Ultimately he is the heart of the film, the window through which Jenna realizes just how badly she went wrong, or will go wrong if she goes back to being 13 and continues on the path where she was heading.

There are several striking performances in this film. The standout, of course, is Jennifer Garner, who is so utterly vivacious and infectious as the geeky teen trapped in a gorgeous woman’s body that we forgive her all her faults committed while she still looked the part of an adolescent. Allen is far less affecting; she’s a little heavy-handed with her teen drama, and all I can think throughout the bulk of the film’s first scenes in, “You moron! What is the matter with you?” I’m blessed, I guess, to never have experienced the intense desire for popularity. I never much cared about fitting in with any crowd, glitzy or not. It’s angering for me to see all these girls in films treating their parents and their real friends like dirt while chasing after some unsubstantiated goal. Garner’s Jenna is sweet, expressive and sincere, and we wonder how such a wonderful person could evolve into such a jerk and fervently hope that this fate can be avoided when she inevitably returns to her rightful place in the world.

Matt stands out in both his incarnations. Though we don’t see a whole lot of him, it’s Marquette who really moves me, reminding me of both the loyal (and pudgy) Samwise Gamgee and sensitive, artsy Adam Rove from Joan of Arcadia. I later discovered there’s another reason for the latter; he’s the little brother of Christopher Marquette, who plays (or, rather, played) Joan’s eccentric boyfriend. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend, and while he acts casual, it’s clear that he adores Jenna and nothing would make him happier than to have her look at him the way she looks at Chris. Ruffalo takes on the adult role that occupies most of the film, and he too is beyond sweet. Now that they’re adults and Jenna begins to discover the chill of the world she’s chosen for herself, she clings to the warmth of the friend she never properly appreciated. My favorite quote from The Princess Diaries – “You saw me when I was invisible” – would be an extraordinarily appropriate thing for her to say to her once-rejected pal. Yet even as Jenna’s presence awakens in Matt feelings he has not experienced in years, like Edward Ferrars in Sense and Sensibility, he is too honorable to break off an engagement, even if the cost is his happiness.

Kyle’s physical similarity to Greer is remarkable. Both are most effective in portraying the despicable Lucy. Could her name be short for Lucifer? When we realize that this is what Jenna could have become, the impact is alarming. Though Matt’s fiance Wendy (Lynn Collins) seems like a nice enough person, her sweet facade barely conceals the fact that she feels incredibly threatened by Jenna’s reemergence. While she’s hardly as obnoxious as Mel, Niles’ witchy wife for a season or so of Frasier, I can’t help but make the comparison, and it makes me wonder how, even thinking that Jenna is forever out of reach, Matt could marry someone so entirely different, so devoid of the passion and compatibility distinguishing his most treasured relationship. Her iciness shines through on a few occasions, such as when she corrects Matt’s use of the word “anchorwoman” with “anchorperson” and, with a condescending laugh, responds to Jenna’s remark that she doesn’t know what she would have done without Matt with, “I’m sure you’ll be just fine!”

Of course, not all the women Jenna encounters in her new life are so unpleasant. After she’s begun to settle into her new life, though with limited success, she seeks solace in the arms of her mother (Kathy Baker), whose maternal instincts remain sharp as ever. All is forgiven when Jenna returns home; we’re even treated to scenes of Jenna crawling into bed next to her and eating smiley-face pancakes she has prepared. She finds a new friend in Becky (Renee Olstead), a 13-year-old who lives in the building. They can discuss teen things together, and she is far more comfortable with this good-natured, average girl than with Lucy. In the workplace, she has an ally in her assistant Arlene (Marcia DeBonis), who is cowed and harassed-looking at the beginning but loosens up and becomes increasingly joyous as she discovers that overnight, Jenna has changed fundamentally into a decent person. The gentle comic moments involving her enhance the workplace scenes considerably.

Oh, and I can’t forget Andy Serkis. One thing that drew me to this movie was the opportunity to see Serkis in a regular acting role, as an ordinary person, wearing a suit instead of a loincloth and carrying a briefcase instead of a fish. As Richard, Jenna’s boss, he is delightful, a flamboyant, frazzled, fatherly presence who calls to mind Fezziwig from A Christmas Carol. When he’s not busy having a nervous breakdown, he’s a very fun person to have around. Though his humor is dry, his heart is warm, and his voice is so deep it’s easy to put the raspy Gollum out of mind – that is, until you see the exact same expression of elation on his face that the former hobbit wore whenever he got near the Ring.

I like this movie. A lot. I like just about everything about it, and I really don’t care if there are several other movies in which the main character comes to his or her senses, discovering a misplaced sense of priorities and reawakening appreciation for true friends and simple pleasures. I rented 13 Going on 30 looking for a laugh. I found a lot more. Perhaps true love and fulfillment are still possible in this cynical day and age, and perhaps we needn’t pursue them so relentlessly. We need only remain true to our better natures and to those who truly care about us, and the rest will fall into place.

A Curious Correspondence and a Dashing Stranger

When, after great anticipation, I finally watched Finding Neverland, I was treated to a preview for a movie I’d never heard of. Entitled Dear Frankie, it was a Scottish film about a deaf boy who corresponds continually with his sailor father – or so he thinks. The letters are actually written by his mother, who is trying to protect him from the fact that his father is in reality an enraged jerk from whom she continues to flee, and eventually she decides to cement the illusion by hiring someone to portray the boy’s father for a day. The premise intrigued me, and the fact that it was Scottish did not hurt one bit. As I’ve said on so many other occasions, I could listen to a Scot talk all day.

Anyway, I thought it sounded like an interesting movie, but I didn’t hear any more about it until I went to the video store last week and saw it among the new releases. We were out in search of chick flicks, and though this didn’t look like it fit the description precisely, it seemed a good prospect. We watched The Prince and Me the first night and Dear Frankie the last night of our rental, and we wound up two for two. We should rent movies more often.

The look of the film is lovely, particularly in scenes when Frankie (Jack McElhone) goes out to look out over the bay and we’re treated to grand views of surrounding moors. Within the city, there is grittiness; Frankie’s family is poor, and while they’re not exactly in the slums, they’re certainly on the lower end of the middle class spectrum. Frankie is an intelligent and affectionate child doted on by his mother Lizzie (Emily Mortimer) and, to a lesser extent, his grandmother (Mary Riggans), who knows and disapproves of Lizzie’s trickery. It’s a bit like going to extraordinary lengths to convince your child to believe in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, and the longer the ruse continues, the more painful ultimate revelation will be. But beyond Lizzie’s desire to protect her son is an ulterior motive: because he does not speak, receiving Frankie’s letters is the only way she can hear her son’s voice.

Lizzie finds a confidante in Marie (Sharon Small), a sprightly woman who convinces her to come work with her at a nearby restaurant. Frankie has trouble adjusting to his class but finds a kindred spirit in Catriona (Jayd Johnson), a friendly girl who happens to know sign language. Less congenial is Ricky (Sean Brown), who antagonizes Frankie and makes a bet with him that his dad will not stop to see him when his boat docks in town for a few days. When Lizzie learns of the bet – and the boat, whose name she had adopted for the fictional boat from which Frankie’s dad writes – she is distraught and embarks on an intimidating search for a man who will agree to be Frankie’s father for a day. Complicating matters is the fact that Frankie’s real father has fallen terminally ill and is desperately searching for the family that fled him in order to make amends before the end.

In the end, it’s Marie to the rescue, furnishing out of thin air a man with, as Marie requests, “no past, no present and no future.” And yet strangely possessing all the qualities she wishes existed in Frankie’s real father. Gerard Butler, known to me as the Phantom from the recent film version of Lloyd Weber’s masterpiece, is the stranger, a quietly intuitive man who seems to know just what Frankie needs. The man and boy bond so quickly that it’s easy to forget they are not actually related, and you wonder at the marvelous luck that allowed Lizzie to find such an incredibly gentle and generous man to give her boy the thrill of a lifetime.

The truth of Frankie’s past is the darkest part of the film, and Butler is truly heartbreaking as his character reacts to Lizzie’s admission that Frankie’s father beat him into deafness as an infant. But in the present day, there is pervasive warmth and tenderness, and that is what remains at the conclusion of the film in spite of the realizations that precede it. Americans may have to pay extra close attention in order to comprehend the accents, but the dialogue is worth the extra effort, and the tones are melodious as always. There are a few profanities thrown about, but these are rare, and there’s really very little in the film to render it inappropriate for younger audiences. Dear Frankie is a fine family film with just a touch of fairy dust thrown in to make it fly.

Fairy Tale Meets Reality in The Prince and Me

I am a sucker for sappy movies. I’ll just say that up front. Thought-provoking is fine, but movies that tug at my heart strings are more likely to win me over completely. So when my mom and I went looking for a couple movies to rent recently, my eyes settled upon The Prince and Me, and when we finished watching it, I heaved the sort of happy sigh brought on by warm fuzzies. In other words, I approved.

I did a bit of searching after the movie was over and found it had been panned by critics and general audiences alike. I had to admit it was derivative, containing echoes of Coming to America, Son-In-Law and The Princess Diaries, among others. But that didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the film. In fact, I would say it was one of the sweetest movies of its genre that I have seen. With its PG rating, it manages to be almost entirely inoffensive. There were a few times when I feared it might be heading into PG-13 territory, but these scenes always were cut short before any real impropriety could occur.

The basic story is an old one. A privileged boy used to being fawned over goes incognito and falls for a girl who initially hates him. The animosity breeds passion that will eventually be refocused as they get to know one another better and discover that they actually enjoy spending time together. The boy in question is Prince Edvard (Luke Mably), whose early scenes indicate that he is a reckless, sophomoric playboy. His motivation for attending a university in the United States is a commercial he saw for a video featuring wild American college girls. He covers this up well in his explanation to his parents, but his laconic lackey Soren (Ben Miller) knows the truth and seems both amused and gratified by the fact that reserved, focused Paige Morgan (Julia Stiles) refuses to give Eddie the time of day.

The two are thrown into association with one another. They are lab partners and co-workers at the student eatery. Eddie is thrust into collegiate life, learning how it feels to be an ordinary student struggling to get by. He is humbled by the valuable life experience he gains, and his party boy demeanor dissipates surprisingly quickly. Meanwhile, he helps Paige to loosen up and have a little fun while also encouraging her to give her heart the attention she generally reserves for her mind. The seeds of romance are planted, and they begin to blossom as Eddie assists Paige in appreciating Shakespeare and Paige shows Eddie the joys of farm life back home. All the while, his true identity is hidden, but it must emerge at some point, and when it does, both of them have choices to make. It plays out in largely fairy tale fashion, but there’s enough reality in there to make us believe it could actually happen, enough chemistry between the leads that we actually want it to.

Stiles has impressed me wherever I’ve seen her, and this film is no exception. She starts out so hardened, unable to really embrace life, and slowly drops her defenses. In moments when Paige allows herself some vulnerability, Stiles is radiant. Mably is a newcomer who I expect we’ll be seeing more of. For a start, he’s in the sequel – though I’m a bit leery of that, since two of the major characters – one of them Paige – are played by different actors the second time around. At any rate, though, he starts out seeming a rogue and grows increasingly uncertain, and his charm increases spectacularly in these moments. Particularly sweet are his Shakespeare lessons, in which his courtly upbringing gives him an exquisitely old-fashioned air. He has grown up with the Bard and truly understands him – yet even as he reads passages with stirring eloquence, his emotional investment prevents him from coming across as though he is in a superior position.

Supporting cast do a fine job, particularly Ben Miller, whose Soren seems at first to loathe being forced to babysit a hopelessly immature prince. I was reminded of Hugh Laurie’s performance as Mr. Palmer in Sense and Sensibility; so few words, but such a powerful presence, and we always knew exactly how irritated he was by his bubbly, gossipy wife. Like Mr. Palmer, though, Soren is a very decent fellow, as people in sophisticated servile positions always seem to be in this type of film, and he is ultimately very likable. Paige brings out the best in him as well as the prince. Miranda Richardson turns in a mostly icy performance as Eddie’s extremely proper mother, though she thaws a bit before all’s said and done. James Fox is warm throughout as Eddie’s ailing father, and I was amused by Devin Ratray, who plays Eddie’s burnout, video game obsessed roomie Scotty.

All told, The Prince and Me is just a very sweet story simply told. There is some attempt at modernization. This is first and foremost Paige’s story, and the director was determined not to see the movie end with her giving up her dreams for the sake of a fairy tale romance. But such is the bond between these two characters that we are determined to see their relationship survive, even if a royal wedding doesn’t occur before the credits roll. I saw the alternate ending and must say I am very satisfied with the chosen finale upon comparison. Prince Edvard’s coronation speech fulfills the director’s wishes for female empowerment with abundant elegance and emotion but leaves the door open for a cathartic conclusion that contains just enough happily ever after to satisfy a sap like me.

VeggieTales Lord of the Rings Parody Amounts to More Than a Hill of Beans

When two things you love converge, it’s a beautiful thing. So when I first heard about Big Ideas’s Lord of the Beans back in April, I could scarcely contain my anticipation. VeggieTales meets Lord of the Rings? How great is that? And how could I wait until November to see it? Well, I got cut a little break in that regard. As a Big Idea ambassador, I get to screen a preview copy of the latest Veggie offering a month or so in advance and, in turn, show it to eager churchgoing kids. Are those kiddies in for a treat!

Lord of the Beans is touted as an epic, clocking in at 45 minutes (typical of recent Veggie videos), all of which is devoted to the main story (atypical). Actually, there are breaks for the traditional counter-top bookend scenes and the silly song slightly beyond the mid-point. I was a bit surprised to see the intro and conclusion intact; previews had led me to believe it might be like Esther, which lacked all the normal Veggie conventions (and was something of a disappointment). Certainly they didn’t take away from the story - though that could’ve gone for an hour and a half and I would’ve been thrilled! Larry’s antics with his “ukelele” that set the stage for the story are amusing, and poor Bob doesn’t show up in Center Earth at all, so it’s nice that he gets to be included somehow.

Because of the subject matter, I regarded this video a bit differently than most Veggie offerings; I focused primarily on the degree to which it parodies Lord of the Rings. The first thing that jumps out is the amount of detail in these visuals. Although the reason for choosing Veggies as the subject of their series was their lack of limbs, making them easy to animate, the creators are no longer restrained by limitations in animation technology. Ever since The Star of Christmas, VeggieTales has peppered its offerings with artfully complex set pieces and costumes. The landscapes here are impressive; I especially love the outside shot of Billboy’s cozy flobbit hole. The Shire (incidentally, the only location or character whose name remains unchanged) is lush and green - though the grass seems a bit shorter than expected. Perhaps they have lawnmowers? Anyway, every location is deeply detailed, the costumes are beautifully realized, and every inch of animation is richly textured - except for the expository flashbacks, which are rendered more as storybook pages.

Also impressive is the musical score. Usually this aspect doesn’t stand out all that much, though it did in Minnesota Cuke as well. In both cases, the source material has a distinctive score, and its Veggie counterpart alludes to that. I love the flutey tones of the Shire and the spooky chorus that strikes up whenever the Bean is seen. Clearly, Howard Shore’s take on the book was an influence. In terms of plot points, director Phil Vischer draws largely from Peter Jackson. The scene in which we first meet Toto Baggypants and Randalf is almost identical to the one in the film, though the Veggies milk more silliness out of it. Indeed, up until the point when Toto agrees to undertake the quest – at which point we very quickly jump ahead to the formation of the Fellowship – it is extremely similar to the opening Shire scenes in the film – though more abbreviated and a bit sillier, of course.

The quest begins, and it turns out to be considerably less fraught with peril than that of Frodo and company. This isn’t too surprising, since Vischer’s tale is not one of good vs evil but rather of discovering the proper use for the gifts we are given. Like Bilbo, Billboy used the Bean for his own purposes for many years, and though it initially made him successful and happy, it gradually began to lose its luster. Billboy is more willing to give up his prize, recognizing that his use of it has contributed to his general sense of malaise, and although this object is not inherently evil, Toto remains nervous about accepting it. Nonetheless, once the decision is made, he is determined to follow through with his quest to discover its purpose. He and his intrepid companions face the stinging blizzards of the Mountains of Much Snowia and the wrath of the humorless Elders of the Razzberry Forest before drawing near to the Land of Woe, where Toto must finish the journey alone – at least until he meets a most unusual companion.

Given the focus of the story and the time constraints, I’m not surprised that quite a few characters did not make the cut; still, it was sad to see that Sam was excised entirely. Then again, given Junior’s past history, the most likely companion for his Toto would be a flobbit played by Laura Carrot, and I’m not sure how I would feel about a female Sam. At any rate, the character wouldn’t really fit into the story as Vischer decided to tell it. We do get quite a few characters though. Stubble-sporting Ear-o-Corn is more Larry than Aragorn, but if he’s far sillier than that stern ranger would ever be, he’s just as valiant. Jimmy Gourd hams it up as pointy-eared Leg-o-Lamb, sneaking around trees and rocks with his bow - complete with plunger arrows - taut. Pa Grape’s axe-wielding Grumpy is mostly modeled after Gimli, but he pulls triple duty, constantly craving food like Pippin and seeking to undermine Toto like Boromir. Mr. Nezzer is in a leadership role as usual as the wizened Randalf, but for a change he is competent and scrupulous. Completing the fellowship is Leg-o-Lamb’s unnamed brother. The reasons for his inclusion don’t become apparent until the conclusion, when his contribution supports the theme of everyone having gifts and needing to use them in the best way possible.

The aforementioned Billboy is played by Archibald Asparagus, that sophisticated, monocled Brit. His speech is one of my favorite moments in the video. In addition to performing a stirring song, he speaks what are probably the two most amusing lines in the whole adventure. The villainous leek who still lacks a name plays Lord Scaryman, whose army of Sporks engages the Fellowship in battle when they infiltrate the Land of Woe seeking to rescue Toto. Mr. Lunt plays Ahem, a Gollum-like character who used the Bean to enable his life of ease before it fell out of his possession. Other characters include the Elders, ent-like creatures whose deep-voiced leader engages in a long-winded set of greetings with Randalf, and a very random yet useful unicycle-riding chap who clearly is a reference to poor maligned Tom Bombadil.

One character I could have done without was Akmetha. She’s almost certainly the most annoying character in the Veggie canon, having made her first appearance in Esther singing a dreadful rendition of a song about puppies. Silly Songs With Elves gives us the nod to Aragorn and Arwen’s romance that I thought might occur, but I expected the Elven beauty to be portrayed by Petunia, who has been Larry’s romantic interest in the past two videos. Instead we have Akmetha, looking batty as ever and especially irate, spewing some high-pitched, quick form of speech that sounds nothing like Elvish and which translates as broken English. I thought Elves were supposed to be superior beings! So she got on my nerves a bit, but I loved Larry’s part of the song, in which he croons about his love in the style of Elvis (with regalia to match), so I can live with her brief appearances. The other songs are well done. All those performed by individuals are a capella style except one, which features the jarring instrumentals of an accordion. Randalf’s explanation of the Beans of Power is deep and resonant with just a touch of Gospel flavor, while Junior’s is typically soft and sweet and sounds a bit like his Robin Hood song from Minnesota Cuke. The latter is reprised later with the ensemble, sounding joyful instead of querulous.

There are dozens of little references to Lord of the Rings, and when it comes out for real on November 1, this is one DVD whose special features I will be examining closely. There seem to be a few tiny discrepancies, though Vischer probably just stuck them in there to add to the silliness. For instance, Randalf tells Billboy there are many Beans of Power and that they should not be used lightly. Obviously this is almost exactly what Gandalf said to Bilbo, so it makes sense, but later Randalf seems to tell Toto that his is the only remaining Bean. Well, maybe if he’d said there were many Beans; perhaps the intimation is that there would be Many beans if the previous owners had used them properly. In most instances where I saw something askew, another character mentioned it just after I questioned it. Larry rides a unicycle, and Bob and I wonder how he can accomplish it without legs. Randalf reads a small inscription over a door (referencing both the entrance to Moria and Riddles in the Dark) that encompasses several lines of poetry, and Leg-o-Lamb and I both question how so few runes can translate to so many words. So I suppose these are less discrepancies than poking gentle fun at certain aspects of Tolkien’s world.

Veggietales often puts special effort into the credits, and here they are graced with artistic renderings of scenes, much like those found at the conclusion of Return of the King. There’s also a new song by Wynonna entitled It’s About Love, which my mom really liked, though I couldn’t get into it – maybe because I was hoping for something with more of a Celtic flavor to it. Nonetheless, it goes well with the idea that we are given gifts that will help us to help others. So Toto may not be eradicating evil, but he’s spreading love one good deed at a time, and we’re left with the impression that if we each do the same, our small contributions can make the world a considerably better place. Like the Bean, which by all appearances is ordinary and insignificant, we may have gifts that are not obvious, but that doesn't mean they aren't there. We just may have to do some searching. Though Lord of the Rings fans will find this video funnier than those who are unfamiliar with the source material, its message is equally accessible to everyone, and it’s one well worth hearing. So three cheers for hobbits and flobbits!

Muggles Muddle Magical Masterpiece in First Harry Potter Movie

Back in the fall of 2001, once I had recovered enough from 9/11 to think about other things again, my mind was occupied largely with one topic: the upcoming first installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, as filmed by Peter Jackson. I had to wait until December for it, and as it turned out the holiday season was so busy that I didn’t see it until early January. But something else came along to stave off my appetite for that long-awaited adaptation. That something was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

Of course, I’d only first met the bespectacled boy with the ordinary name and extraordinary fate a few years earlier; I didn’t have the history with him that I had with steadfast Sam Gamgee or industrious Bilbo Baggins. But the movie was still cause for excitement. Did it live up to its promises? I’m still trying to decide. I don’t have as much invested in Rowling as in Tolkien, but her vision is still more than worthy of being translated into high-quality cinema. The film was certainly a commercial success, but in comparison with Fellowship of the Ring, I would say that it falls considerably short.

The movie begins outside the home of the Dursleys, where a very special delivery is about to arrive. In the space of a few moments, we meet the infant Harry and three magical folk who will eventually play a large role in his life. For the time being, however, he is entrusted to the care of his thoroughly unpleasant relatives: overbearing Uncle Vernon (Richard Griffiths), sniveling Aunt Petunia (Fiona Shaw) and their spoiled son Dudley (Harry Melling). This is where we find Harry (Daneil Radcliffe) ten years later, cowering in a closet and waiting on his reluctant caregivers like a modern-day version of Cinderella. But in this case, it is not an invitation to a ball that has the mistreated youth in a tizzy. It’s an invitation to a school, an invitation to an entirely different way of life. But the Dursleys are even more unwilling to facilitate those dreams than that notorious stepmother. This introductory segment is handled well, though there’s an odd quality to the cinematography that I can’t pin down. I guess it reminds me of the Brit-coms I watch on PBS now and again; something about it just doesn’t seem quite movie-like. Still, we get just as much of the Dursleys as we need, including the beautifully done assault upon the house by a fleet of Hogwarts owls. Even better is the eventual appearance of Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), my favorite character. He makes a big impression at once, and he soon earns Harry’s trust and our affection. Harry’s scenes with Hagrid before he heads off for the Hogwarts Express are perhaps my favorite in the film.

The trouble is, from that point on, everything has a rushed, glossed-over quality to it. We meet Mrs. Weasley (Julie Walters) and her clan, but she only has a couple lines of dialogue in which to establish herself as a significant maternal presence in Harry’s life. Ginny (Bonnie Wright), meanwhile, seems supremely superfluous, standing shyly next to her mother and uttering a mere two words: "Good luck." If that’s all they were going to give her to do, why’d they bother casting her at all? Might as well have just waited until the next movie. Percy (Chris Rankin) gets to strut around campus looking superior and even bark out a couple orders, but Fred and George (James and Oliver Phelps) are tragically underused. They barely fare better than Ginny, which is a darn shame given their immense potential for comic relief. Ron (Rupert Grint) does get a lot of screen time in, of course, and he’s adorable but he’s also slightly pointless most of the time. His dialogue is the worst in the movie; he’s always making useless asides and exclamations as random and irritating as those uttered by Sunny in the film Series of Unfortunate Events. His character is not satisfactorily developed.

Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) at least serves a more practical purpose in the film. She’s a marvelous expository tool; if you ever want to explain something quickly, just have Hermione pipe up and say she’s read something about it. Even at this early stage of the game, there’s an interesting tension shaping up between her and Ron that will become amplified in later installments. Watson plays Hermione as a snotty know-it-all but softens up her performance by the end. She’s probably the character who undergoes the most noticeable change in personality. Several other students stand out in some way, among them disaster-prone Neville Longbottom (Matthew Lewis); Dean Thomas (Alfred Enoch), practically the only dark face among a sea of pasty Brits; loud-mouth Quidditch announcer Lee Jordan (Luke Youngblood); and Irish lad Seamus Finnegan (Devon Murray), whose marble-mouthed manner of speaking annoys me immensely. By far the most notable student, however, is Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton), a sneering, self-important purebred Slytherin who quickly establishes himself as Harry’s pint-sized nemesis. Felton certainly has that obnoxiousness down to a tea, also revealing Malfoy’s cowardice in the scene where they must venture out into the Forbidden Forest.

While many of the child actors have no prior acting experience, the bulk of the adult cast consists of screen legends from the British Isles. There’s so much talent amassed here that it’s a great pity the adults are not used more. Richard Harris puts in an appearance as quirky headmaster Albus Dumbledore, but the only indication of his wit that remains is his disappointing attempt at finding a satisfactory jelly bean. It seems to me that several of his funniest lines from the book could have made it into the film; as it is, he comes across as something between mournful and simply dull. What a shame that in two of his final movies, Harris was given so little to do. Maggie Smith’s Minerva McGonagall is only slightly less strict than her mother superior in Sister Act. She’s a professor to be feared, but she is a reasonable woman and a valuable ally to have. Incidentally, Smith has a distinct Scottish brogue here, which helps this character to stand out from other authoritarian roles she’s assumed. We see more of her and Hagrid than we do of Dumbledore, but it’s still less than I would like.

By far the most intriguing character is Severus Snape (Alan Rickman), who remains awash in ambiguity even five books later. This loathed teacher gives Harry a concrete enemy far more threatening than Malfoy, and though his presence is a bit of a red herring, we’re not entirely sure by the end of the film that Harry’s suspicions were misplaced. Rickman is one of my favorite actors, so I’m not surprised he managed to make the most of his moments on the screen. Snape is silkily sinister, the sort of teacher every student dreads, and Rickman gives him such a commanding presence that I spend most of the movie in anticipation of his scenes, much as I do with Agent Smith in The Matrix. The guy is good.

What isn’t good is the fact that the adaptation tries so hard to be faithful to the letter of the book that it winds up being unfaithful to the spirit. A whole lot of stuff happens, and it’s pretty close to the text, but we don’t really know why it’s going on, nor do we care as much as we should. The pivotal background information and context is glossed over, leaving those unfamiliar with the books confused. Moreover, all this action leaves little room for character development, so none of the characters are realized as fully as they should be. There’s room for that in the sequels, of course, but if I had come into the film unfamiliar with the characters I would feel little of the sense of closeness with them at the conclusion that I felt upon finishing the first book. I don’t agree with all the decisions Peter Jackson made in his adaptation of Tolkien’s masterpiece, but in order to translate a book of that magnitude to the screen, he rightly realized that significant alterations had to be made. Screenplay writer Steven Kloves should have had that degree of faith in himself rather than fearing the wrath of devoted fans for not sticking strictly to the book.

The look of the film is magnificent once we step out of the commonplace world of Muggles and into the wizarding community. The noble educational institution of Hogwarts is especially impressive with its gothic archways, shifting staircases and walls full of paintings whose subjects wander about and talk freely amongst themselves. Some of the effects, however, come across as silly rather than splendid. The whole encounter with the troll in the girls’ bathroom, for instance, is a bit phony-looking, and the gross-out conclusion of the skirmish is accentuated so as to delight younger audience members. I can’t complain about the score, provided by veteran composer John Williams of Star Wars fame. Word has it that Peter Jackson wanted Williams to do the music for Lord of the Rings but that the composer was already committed to this project. I suspect that was for the best on all accounts, as I can’t imagine a better LotR score than Howard Shore’s or a better Harry Potter score than Williams’. It strikes just the right balance between eerie and fanciful, capturing the wonder and terror inherent in Harry’s strange new world.

All in all, it’s a good start, but it needs work. I guess you can think of this film as a practice run for the Harry Potter adaptation team. The biggest problem is with the screenplay, and that’s the easiest area in which to make changes. So far, it seems the second and third films have done a better job with characterization, but there’s still plenty of room for improvement. Let’s hope Goblet of Fire is the best yet!

Whoopi Robes Up Again for a More than Satisfactory Sequel

Shortly before I went into sixth grade, my mom and I went school shopping. We made a day of it, with lunch at Chuck E. Cheese’s and then a movie. As I recall, our intention was to see Three Ninjas, but the showing was sold out, so we examined our options, and I suggested Sister Act. Mom was dubious; she didn’t know much about it, and she suspected I might find it boring. But we gave it a shot, and rarely have I found a movie so engaging and entertaining. Just a year later, a sequel arrived. There’s always something lost with a sequel; much of the power of surprise is gone. You basically know what to expect at this point. A first film may sweep you away, but a sequel rarely will. Sister Act 2 failed to enthrall me the way the first did, but as sequels go, it was incredibly well done in spite of the similarities in plot to its predecessor.

The beginning of this movie finds Delores van Cartier (Whoopi Goldberg) enjoying greater success as a lounge singer than ever before, thanks to her unlikely star-making stint as choir director for a fleet of cloistered nuns. Her habited buddies, Sisters Mary Robert (Wendy Makkena), Patrick (Kathy Najimy) and Lazarus (Mary Wickes), corner her after one of her shows and entreat her to return with them to their current residence, a parish in charge of St. Francis Academy, a school catering to inner city students. A now gentler Mother Superior (Maggie Smith) greets her upon her arrival and begs her to join the teaching staff as a music instructor, to which Delores reluctantly agrees. Once again she must go in cognito in order to deceive the school administrators, but this task isn’t so difficult now that most of her friends know who and what she really is.

The basic plotline is very similar to the first, though there’s far less at stake for Delores this time around, and the tensions between her and school principal Father Maurice (Barnard Hughes) and superintendent Mr. Crisp (James Cogburn) are nothing compared to the frosty relationship she enjoyed with Mother Superior in the first film. Delores has changed, so her motivations are different in this film, and her character doesn’t have much room to evolve. But once again she finds herself in a position to save a struggling organization by taking a ragtag group and turning them into a world-class choir.

Personally, I identify more with nuns than rowdy teens, so I preferred when the focus was on the Sisters. Delores had a difficult task in whipping them into shape, but they were ready and willing to participate. The complications arose much more from Mother Superior’s disapproval than the nuns themselves. Here, Delores’ first job is to command her students’ respect, and it’s not easy. Once she does, though, she still has her work cut out for her in teaching them how to work together and believe in themselves. Several students stand out: “Amahl,” (Ryan Toby) who is extremely passionate about his African heritage and who overcomes his timidity with an exhilarating solo much as Sister Mary Robert did in the first film; “Sketch,” (Ron Johnson) a gentle soul who is a talented artist but who always sleeps through class due to long hours working after school; and “Frankie,” (Devin Kamin) a wannabe rapper with his own theme song. Most prominent, however, is Rita (Lauryn Hill), who possesses an extraordinary voice but has a crummy attitude fostered by her mother (Sheryl Lee Ralph), who refuses to foster her daughter’s dreams of singing professionally. Her mother comes across as a bit too severe here, ordering her to quit the choir because “singing does not put food on the table;” after all, it doesn’t take food off the table, either. In fact, Rita seems to have been completely uninterested in school up to this point, but the choir provides her with motivation. I would think a mother would be more supportive of her daughter’s talent, but I guess she’s just seen how hard it is to bring such dreams to fruition and doesn’t want Rita getting hurt.

When Father Maurice announces that the school will be closing at the end of the year, the students rally under the nuns’ enthusiastic suggestion that they enter the singing contest that this academy has won in years past. Their efforts are complicated by Father Maurice’s caution and near-sabotage by dour Mr. Crisp, who stands to gain quite a bit from the destruction of the school. The last-minute efforts to thwart those plans are an amusing side-plot involving the monks who also teach at the school. They don’t have quite as much to do as the nuns, but these men add a lot to the film. I especially like curmudgeonly Latin teacher Brother Thomas (Brad Sullivan), Mary Lazarus’ counterpart, and gentle, gregarious math teacher Brother Ignatius (Michael Jeter), who combines the best qualities of Mary Patrick and Mary Robert.

The ending is fairly predictable, but the kids’ grand musical number is impressive nonetheless. I can’t help but recall The Sound of Music while watching the musical competition, and I’m happy to embrace any film that makes me think of that classic, which may qualify as my all-time favorite. Of course, it also reminds me of Sister Act. In the end, this sequel is not quite as funny, creative, or surprising as that was, but it comes awfully close.

Mary Martin and Company Fly Where Disney Falls

When I entered my sophomore year of high school, I quickly heard the news that a spring musical had already been chosen and that the musical in question was Peter Pan. Now, I wasn’t exactly an active member of the theater department. I’d desperately wanted to be in The Sound of Music, but alas! That didn’t happen. But I was sure I could correct whatever mistakes I made the first time around to prevent me from winning a part in my favorite musical. I would be in Peter Pan, and that would be almost as good. Most of the theater folks did not seem to share my enthusiasm. I heard comment after comment about what a lame show we were staging, and I wondered why these students were bothering to try out if they hated the play so much. But such is theater, I guess. You soldier on, no matter how little regard you have for the material itself. But I geared up.

I very much wanted to sing I’ve Gotta Crow, but I couldn’t find the accompaniment for the song anywhere. I wound up with Distant Melody, coupled with the monologue in which Tinkerbell drinks Peter’s medicine. The song went okay, but I’m sure I would’ve garnered more attention with the song I wanted. The monologue was decent, but they cut me off before the end, so I didn’t even get to crow there. I really had hoped to show off my rooster imitating skills. Nonetheless, it seemed a good sign when I was called into the other room for a dance audition. That hadn’t happened the year before. Unfortunately, a few minutes of trying to keep up with the hand-clapping in Ugg-a-Wugg convinced both me and the dance director that I did not possess sufficient coordination for such a venture, and thus ended my foray into musical theater. Sniff. So I can’t help but feel a tinge of regret when I watch the film version of the Broadway production starring Mary Martin and Cyril Ritchard. These days, the possibility of my being in a musical seems about as distant as the possibility of being able to fly (which, by the way, is the superpower I would choose above all others). Nonetheless, it remains one of my favorite musicals.

No doubt, there’s some weird stuff going on here, with Peter Pan played by a gal (a woman in her 40s, no less); Wendy played by the same actress who plays her daughter Jane, indicating that ultimately the two girls are the same to Peter; and Wendy’s uptight father played by the same actor who portrays Captain Hook. Ritchard stands as a sort of metaphor for adults and adulthood in general, the implication being that they are always on hand to attempt to ruin everyone’s fun, and there’s no escaping them even in Neverland. Mr. Darling reminds me of Mr. Banks in Mary Poppins. Both men try to keep a tight rein on their household, but in reality they have no control over their children at all, and a supernatural visitor is required in order for the father to attain a healthy relationship with his offspring. In this case, however, Wendy (Maureen Bailey) is the fussbudget and the one who eventually does the leaving, much to Peter’s dismay.

Mary Martin has a grand old time playing Peter, though it’s hard to forget entirely that she’s a woman. Her Peter is bright and energetic, and oh the joy whenever he takes flight! Wendy, by contrast, is far too concerned with adult matters, and we soon realize that she’s almost too old as it is to venture into Neverland. Her relationship with Peter is complicated by their differing perspectives. Peter has been a boy for years and years, and the only role he can imagine Wendy in is that of his mother. He is perplexed and even repulsed when realization dawns that she may be more interested in a romantic relationship. Wendy’s siblings, intellectual John (Joey Trent) and cuddly Michael (Kent Fletcher), quickly assimilate into the Lost Boys, but Wendy’s place in the group is unique – and threatened by the Indian princess Tiger Lily (Sondra Lee), who competes for Peter’s affections. A trace of that tension comes across in Ugg-a-Wugg, the complicated gesture of friendship between Tiger Lily’s tribe and Peter’s. This scene is pivotal in that Peter and Tiger Lily had been enemies up until this time, but now they’ve come to the realization that they must unite against a common foe: adulthood (Captain Hook, but also the unwanted advances of Wendy).

To my mind, the most entertaining character in the whole bunch is the slightly flamboyant, overdramatic Captain Hook, who insists upon striking up the band every time he makes an announcement, who embarrasses himself by developing a crush on a woman who turns out to be Peter in disguise (a woman playing a boy playing a woman!), who bonks his faithful servant Smee (Joe E. Marks) on the head whenever the mood hits him. His songs plotting the demise of Peter and his friends are deliciously devious, backed by the silly instrumentation provided by his devout band of pirates, while his flirtatious back-and-forth with Peter in Oh, My Mysterious Lady is priceless. That’s not to say that Peter doesn’t have delightful musical numbers all his own. In fact, most of the songs star him, from the delightfully cocky I Gotta Crow and the joyful I’m Flying to the boisterous Wendy and I Won’t Grow Up, which exemplifies the author’s driving point that childhood is far preferable to the drudgery of adult life.

Because this is about as direct an adaptation as you’re likely to see of a Broadway show, some of the elements come across as rather cheesy to an audience used to sophisticated special effects. The fly lines are often visible. The nonhuman residents of Neverland are people dressed in strange costumes; the dog responsible for babysitting Wendy and her brothers is also a person is a costume, which has to have been incredibly uncomfortable. Tinkerbell is indicated only by a flashlight and a bell, though I have to admit this is a pretty cool effect, and as she is my least favorite character I’m happy to see and hear as little of her as possible. My school shelled out the big bucks to get a laser image of Tinkerbell to project whenever she was supposed to be on stage, but in this case I think simplicity is better, and it would have saved the theater department a nice chunk of change to stick with the flashlight. The sets are fairly sparse, leaving much to the imagination, though perhaps not as much as in Cinderella. The score is delightful to listen to, if not to play; my friends who were in the band that year just about keeled over trying to make sense of the complicated orchestrations, worsened by the fact that the sheet music was riddled with hand-written notes to the actors involved in the original production.

My dad finds Peter Pan annoying and bizarre, and I can see his point – especially when I watch the Disney version. But my affection for the fairy world J. M. Barrie created remains, especially as manifested in this masterful adaptation of the Broadway production. If I can’t live it and I can’t be in it, I’m happy at least to be able to watch it.

Never Before Has Neverland Seemed So Within Our Grasp

Last year, I watched Two Brothers and fell in love with Freddie Highmore, the English answer to Haley Joel Osment. I soon learned he was set to star with Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a prospect that pleased me very much. But in the meantime, there was another film starring the two to watch out for: Finding Neverland. I already was convinced of the superiority of the cast, but glowing reviews from friends and critics and an NPR program in which an expert on accents applauded Depp’s work in the film made me even more eager to see it. As too often occurs, I missed it in the theater, but I was all too happy to finally watch it when it came out on video.

I’ve always been a fan of Peter Pan – the general story if not every version – but over the course of several years, particularly in college, my information led me to believe that author J. M. Barrie was at best deluded, at worst a pedophile, and probably both. When I first heard of this movie, I thought it might be rather gritty and cynical. As it turned out, it was just the opposite. I don’t know which account to believe, but I certainly like this one better, and the idealist in me embraces it.

Depp stars as Scotland native Barrie, and I must say that he was awfully easy on the ear. I don’t mask my prejudices. There are few things in this world more beautiful than a Scottish accent. It’s the reason I fell in love with Billy Boyd; it’s the reason I started watching Craig Ferguson after Letterman every night. So even though Depp naturally has just a plain old American accent, I forget that in an instant here. Flawless. But there’s more to this performance than admirable command of a dialect. Depp portrays Barrie as a man rather like Michael Jackson (ironic given the abundant comparisons his role as Willy Wonka produced) but with none of the creepy oddball associations. The people around him may make those accusations, but we see him simply as a gentle man intimately in touch with his inner child and unable to mold himself to the conventions of polite society. Like John Denver, his life’s work and his charitable causes are of greater concern to him than his personal life, which has deep ramifications for his relationship with his wife (Radha Mitchell).

In Barrie’s case, the “charitable cause” that consumes him and troubles his wife is the family of Sylvia Llewelyn Davies (Kate Winslet), a recently widowed woman with a brood of four boys, three of whom (Joe Prospero, Nick Roud, Luke Spill) are energetic and imaginative. The odd one out is Peter (Highmore), who is deeply scarred by his father’s death and has little use for the falderal Barrie happily trots out for the boys’ benefit. Nonetheless, the author perseveres, encouraging Peter to write his own stories. Meanwhile, he is so inspired by his afternoon romps with the children that he recovers from a writing slump, writing what is destined to be by far his most popular play, though his producer (Dustin Hoffman) is overcome with worry that this exceedingly strange piece of theater will be a colossal flop. Hoffman remains an understated comic presence, and I can only assume he was asked to assume the role as a nod to his performance as Hook in the film of the same name. At the same time, Sylvia’s stern mother (Julie Christie) shows increasing disapproval of the playwright’s involvement with her daughter and grandchildren, particularly once Sylvia begins to display signs of a serious illness.

The look of this film is magical, suffused with dappled sunlight that almost invariably overpowers the shadows that linger on the periphery. The visions of Neverland are especially bright, and for fans of the story it’s exhilarating to feel as though we are watching the genesis of these beloved characters and events. Perhaps my favorite such moment is when Barrie observes the Davies children jumping on the bed and imagines them continuing upwards instead of falling back upon the soft mattress, flying out of the open window into a land where they will never grow older and never change. As much as he tries to preserve their innocence, he cannot shield them from harsh reality, but he can give them a gift: the power of story, latent within each of them, to unlock the magic so many weary souls have left behind and never attempted to reclaim.

Top-notch acting, superior cinematography, a gentle story and tender score all come together to create a masterpiece of which all its participants can be proud. Peter flies high once again, and he’s never before looked so much like one of us.

The Wildlife Concert - John Denver

If you want a collection of most of John Denver's best songs, The Wildlife Concert beats any Greatest Hits album.