3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.3.18
I’ve long regarded title credits as a strong indication of quality; a director who cares enough to insist upon clever, stylish or (in some manner) unusual credits, generally can be counted upon to give his film the same attention to detail.
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| Desperate to prevent passersby from realizing that Pooh is a stuffed bear who nonetheless walks and talks, Christopher (Ewan McGregor) begs his childhood friend to "play taking a nap." |
In that respect, then, director Marc Forster’s Christopher Robin begins auspiciously. An extended prolog is lovingly and warmly animated from the E.H. Shepard illustrations in A.A. Milne’s original Winnie the Pooh books; the sequence also incorporates flipped pages laden with the correct type font. In all respects, it’s like we viewers jump into the book itself and become part of what follows, much in the manner of Jasper Fforde’s delightful Thursday Next novels.
This lengthy, period-appropriate introduction also establishes the firm bond between young Christopher Robin (Orton O’Brien) and his half-dozen plush animal friends, all seemingly hand-stitched, as if by some doting parent. They’ve organized a party in the Hundred Acre Wood, but the occasion is somber: Christopher Robin is heading off to boarding school. The mood is pure “Puff, the Magic Dragon.”
These sweetly animated characters are voiced sublimely, their note-perfect dialog — here, and throughout the entire film — impeccably crafted to match Milne’s blend of innocence and gentle playfulness (with numerous quotes lifted directly from the page). We can’t help being both charmed and saddened; the sweet sorrow of this impending parting is almost more than can be withstood.
Then the movie proper kicks in, and the mood is ... well, badly compromised, if not completely shattered.
The script — credited, with eyebrow-raising concern, to five different hands — is a patchwork mess stitched together with far less care than that given to its animated stars. The plot is a clumsy mash-up of Steven Spielberg’s Hook and Disney’s Mary Poppins — both centering around an adult who has lost track of his childhood sense of wonder — blended with numerous un-subtle nods to the three Disney Winnie the Pooh cartoon shorts produced between 1966 and ’74.
To make matters even worse, this film’s (mostly) soothing tone often is marred by the destructive slapstick sequences that infected so many of Disney’s insufferably stupid late 1960s and early ’70s live-action comedies. The sudden shift in tone can cause whiplash.
In a nutshell, these characters — human and otherwise — are far better than the derivative, wafer-thin and disappointing story into which they’ve been dumped.
As the narrative begins, the London-based Christopher (now Ewan McGregor) has become a disenchanted adult employed as an “efficiency manager” at ailing Winslow Luggage. The owner’s condescending prig of a son — Mark Gatiss, oozing loathsome smarm — has mandated deep cuts, lest the company be dissolved entirely. Christopher has been left to do the dirty work, over a weekend he was supposed to spend with his family, at the bucolic country home where he grew up.
His doting wife Evelyn (Hayley Atwell) despairs; he’s simply never around any more, forever wrapped up in “work” (that very word employed by Christopher as a defensive catch-all). Their daughter Madeline (Bronte Carmichael) quietly accepts this news as another in a long line of similarly broken promises, disappointment etched in her downcast gaze.
Ah, but the weekend is destined to become quite unusual, thanks to a bit of unexpected magic wrought by a spilled jar of honey. (Hey, as a portent of enchantment, it’s not the strangest plot device I’ve encountered.) Christopher’s childhood companions have resided safely — if not entirely happily — in the parallel realm we know as the Hundred Acre Wood, and we sense that Pooh has long awaited this sort of summons.
He obligingly waddles, stumbles and falls through a portal in a nearby tree, and winds up in the small garden park outside Christopher’s mid-century London flat. Where, naturally, they bump into each other. Everybody can see Pooh; Christopher’s subsequent frantic efforts to conceal a sentient, chatty stuffed teddy bear are indeed quite droll.
Less amusing is the contrived shambles that Pooh makes of Christopher’s kitchen and dining room.
Christopher’s determination to return Pooh to the Hundred Acre Wood naturally interferes with the weekend’s planned slog over ledgers and cost analyses; worse yet, it involves a trip to his childhood home, where being spotted by Evelyn and Madeline would involve answering extremely awkward questions.
They ultimately arise anyway, because this script attempts to eat its fantasy cake and have it, too; the result, particularly during a pell-mell climax, is hard to swallow.
McGregor tries his best with a truly difficult role, and Forster definitely should have been the right guy for the job; his 2004 charmer, Finding Neverland, has precisely the tone this film should have emulated. But McGregor never fully sells Christopher’s gradual awakening to Life’s Truly Important Things; his behavior and dialog too often feel forced and (at best) half-hearted.
Little sidebar details are puzzling or downright weird. A London neighbor eager to play gin rummy is an odd bystander who simply vanishes after the first act; Christopher’s near-drowning plunge into a heffalump pit, once back in the Hundred Acre Wood, seems equally pointless. (And I find it difficult to believe that such a deep-water bath wouldn’t have ruined the precious “work papers” carried in his ubiquitous briefcase.)
At the same time, we can’t help being charmed by Pooh and his equally endearing friends. Jim Cummings voices both the “bear of little brain” and the spring-y, impetuous Tigger, emulating (respectively) Sterling Holloway and Paul Winchell, who did those characters in the aforementioned cartoon shorts. Brad Garrett is hilarious as the gloomy, deep-voiced, eternally morose Eeyore, who could give Douglas Adams’ Marvin (the paranoid android) a run for his melancholy money.
Former Doctor Who Peter Capaldi is amusing as the excitable Rabbit; Toby Jones is appropriately judicious as the wise Owl. Nick Mohammed is so effective as the timid, fearful Piglet, that we can’t help wanting to scoop him up into a protective embrace. Sophie Okonedo and Sara Sheen, finally, inject calm sensibility as the observant Kanga and inquisitive Roo.
Atwell is sadly underused, relegated to Evelyn’s standard-issue sighs of regret and obligatory lamentations over her husband’s poor choices. Young Carmichael, happily, does far better with a more carefully sculpted character. Madeline becomes the child that Christopher has forgotten how to be; her transformation — as she embraces the concept of “play,” instead of mimicking her father’s workaholic ways — is completely credible.
Once given the opportunity, she also interacts far more convincingly with Pooh and the others.
Jon Brion and Geoff Zanelli’s mostly quiet underscore frequently is interrupted by brief orchestral references to the Richard M. Sherman/Robert B. Sherman songs written for the cartoon shorts. This will prompt a smile from older viewers, when an otherwise fresh theme slides into a few bars from “Winnie the Pooh.”
On the other hand, the film grinds to a halt when Tigger launches into a full rendition of his theme song (“The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers”). This quick sequence is undeniably cute, but — like so many other moments in this film — seems oddly out of place, as if left over from some earlier attempt to make a musical.
Much like poor Christopher, this film doesn’t know what it wants to become, when it grows up. A sentimental fable? A cautionary tale? A contrived comedy? A heartwarming reminder to honor one’s true nature? Goodness, Disney can’t even settle on a target audience; despite the adorable animated characters and a marketing campaign clearly aimed at families, this film is much too deep for small children, many of whom clearly were bored during Tuesday evening’s preview screening.
Ironically, this version of Pooh is laden with far more wisdom than was demonstrated while making this project. He should have been put in charge.
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