home
***
CD-ROM
|
disk
|
FTP
|
other
***
search
/
TIME: Almanac 1990
/
1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
/
time
/
091889
/
09188900.071
< prev
next >
Wrap
Text File
|
1990-09-17
|
6KB
|
108 lines
CINEMA, Page 93Saturday-Matinee MenagerieCats and dogs and elephants for the last few unjaded childrenBy Richard Corliss
One dictionary definition of culture is "the propagation of
bacteria and other microorganisms in artificial media." For
perplexed parents, that comes close to defining today's pop culture
-- creepy little things that can give their kids the fever and make
adults sick. Go figure: as scientists and sociologists toil to
prove that just about everything is harmful, pop culture stridently
insists that everything is O.K., as long as it's loud, rude or
brutal. This makes for a poignant dilemma, especially when a child
of four or eight or twelve wants to go to the movies. In the first
few minutes of the PG-rated Uncle Buck, a six-year-old blithely
discusses the propriety of a four-letter word whose use got a movie
banned in New York State in 1962. And this is the mildest of
provocations facing parents who want to be cautious without being
tyrants. Raise kids today? Naaah, cage 'em.
In the '50s, children hid their pop culture under the mattress.
Horror comics, B movies and rhythm and blues offered kids safe
passage to subversion, while parents dozed off to the official
kitsch of crooners and Bible epics. Today, though, mid-cult
gentility has been ghettoized in a terrain liberated by the Pied
Pipers of rock and schlock. Kid culture is the culture. Comic-book
films (Batman) and TV shows (ALF), heavy-metal music clangorous
enough to drive parents and dogs wild, all merit solemn
consideration in the critical and financial pages. Works that were
once intended for grownups and maybe children are now intended for
kids and the occasional hip adult. What used to be forbidden to the
young is now required watching, listening and reading for all ages.
And parents are left fretting that American mass art has become one
big piece of Boogers candy.
So if they have toddlers, parents retreat to their local cinema
day-care center for the trite and true: nature fables, comic
fantasies and Disneyesque cartoons. At the moment, a slew of such
pictures beckons to desperate moms and dads. Disney, Hollywood's
most reliable baby-sitter, has grossed more than $100 million this
summer with Honey, I Shrunk the Kids, a lame jape that blends the
old Flubber formula (Dad as a ditsy scientist) with the ageless
theme of children lost in a dark adventure world (in this case,
their backyard). Disney is also issuing a return ticket to Never
Land with its rerelease of the 1953 cartoon Peter Pan. This is a
trip that still soars like Darling dreams over the London skyline.
Another 20th century children's classic in cartoon form, Babar:
The Movie, sets the boy king of Elephantland on a journey to
protect his sweet Celeste. Though this Canadian cartoon borrows
some gentle wit from Jean de Brunhoff's tales, it lacks Disney's
full-bodied animation and narrative gusto. There are endangered
pachyderms, a child separated from her mother, comic supporting
animals -- all the makings of cartoon magic -- but unlike Dumbo,
Babar doesn't fly.
At the head of the kindergarten class is The Adventures of Milo
and Otis, a 1986 hit in Japan, concocted by author Masanori Hata
and director Kon Ichikawa (Tokyo Olympiad) and Westernized by
screenwriter Mark Saltzman. Filmed in a four-year period on Hata's
farm, this live-action feature tells of Milo, a barnyard kitten who
is forever getting into trouble -- tangling with ornery bears and
lobsters, losing his way in a stream or a swamp -- and, thanks to
his dogged puppy pal Otis, wriggling out of it.
Milo and Otis requires no Mr. Ed mouth movements, no aerobatic
special effects -- no human characters either -- to fill children
and adults with the giddy sense of discovering an innocent new
world. Though the beguilements threaten to fray toward the end,
the film is constantly buoyed by Dudley Moore, who narrates the
story and plays all the voices: a pompous frog, a friendly fox, a
Margaret Rutherfordian sea turtle. Without pushing, the film also
teaches lessons in sociability. "Otis thought of a word everyone
knew: `Please.' " To those responsible for Milo and Otis, a movie
fan with preschool children can only say, "Thank you."
But what is a parent to say to the people in charge of
entertaining kids in the years between Pampers and puberty? Perhaps
"Help!" These days children get zapped by the raucous vitality of
pop culture before they hit double digits. Too old for cuddly
kittens, too young for caped crusaders, elementary-schoolers find
few movies that offer the modern equivalent of a Hardy Boys or a
Nancy Drew book. Steven Spielberg tries hard, but young teens are
the more appropriate target for his Indiana Jones, Innerspace and
Goonies yarns.
So it's back to Disney, whose latest G-rated safari, Cheetah,
was produced by Walt's nephew Roy. Blending Born Free and 3 Men and
a Baby, the film sends teenage siblings Ted (Keith Coogan) and
Susan (Lucy Deakins) off to Kenya to befriend a tribal boy (Collin
Mothupi) and become surrogate parents of an orphan cub. It's all
pretty tame. When Ted declares his yen for jungle adventure, Susan
observes, "I think you've been watching too many PBS specials." So
has Cheetah's director, Jeff Blyth; he may offer his moviegoing
students a trip to the wildlife sanctuary, but it still feels like
school.
Like school, these films may be valuable in keeping kids off
the streets and away from threatening images, both cultural and
societal. But soon enough, parents realize that their children
cannot be isolated in the plastic bubble of G-rated entertainment.
Other, more hazardous wildlife awaits them. If fiendish Freddy or
pretty Poison doesn't get to them, the atrocities on the nightly
news will. It's an R-rated world out there. And the ultimate danger
is not that they will be driven by aggressive movies or music to
commit violent acts, but that they will turn emotionally jaded,
unable to react to a personal or national tragedy with anything but
studied irony. These days, virtually nothing seems sacred, or even
serious, to adults. Children can't help getting that message. And
Disney can't help them unlearn it.