2.5 stars. Rated PG, for fleeting but graphic war images
By Derrick Bang
Brief portions of this
biographical drama are endearing: precisely what fans may have imagined, when
wondering how Winnie the Pooh was created.
 |
| To the complete surprise of his parents (Domhnall Gleeson and Margot Robbie), their son Christopher (Will Tilston) is furious when confronted with a toy shop's massive cache of stuffed bears in the likeness of his bear. The notion that the public soon will be able to own such faux copies is more than the boy can stand. |
Alas, the rest feels like
character assassination, akin to the hatchet job done on Walt Disney and P.L.
Travers, in 2013’s Saving Mr. Banks.
One must be wary of film
biographies that are “inspired” by actual events, since this often is code for
exaggeration and “made-up stuff.” Scripters Frank Cottrell Boyce and Simon
Vaughan have succumbed to this temptation, in one case rather egregiously
(apparently in service of “dramatic tension”).
Such embellishment can be excused
when little is known about the subject(s) in question, but Boyce and Vaughan
had much from which to draw: Alan Alexander Milne’s numerous essays, along with
Ann Thwaite’s sterling biography; and — most particularly — Christopher Robin
Milne’s own memoirs, The Enchanted Places,
The Path Through the Trees and Hollow on the Hill.
Director Simon Curtis’ film certainly
looks and feels authentic. Production designer David Roger has done a masterful
job of recreating the sparkle and sophistication of 1920s London, along with
the rustic, cozy and sun-dappled East Sussex countryside that A.A. Milne found
so comforting.
Curtis even used actual
locations, most crucially “Pooh Bridge” and Ashdown Forest, the wilderness
adjacent to Cotchford Farm, where Milne’s son — Christopher Robin, who went by
the nickname “Billy Moon” — spent his childhood. (The actual Cotchford Farm
still stands, but was unsuitable for filming; a similar property nearby was
used for exterior shooting.)
The problem is that this film’s
tone is relentlessly dreary, even mean-spirited. Milne’s wife Daphne is
portrayed as a cold-hearted, mercilessly self-centered monster: an
interpretation that Margot Robbie nails all too well. We hate her on sight, and
our opinion only lowers with time. Daphne lacks even a whiff of motherly
instinct, having apparently lost interest in her child when he turned out to be
a boy, rather than the girl she wanted.
Nor did she abandon that hope
gracefully, insisting that her son be garbed in smocks and dresses throughout
his childhood.
