Two Peter Pans That Fly Under the Radar

Posted on June 13, 2025 by stationmaster

Back when I did a series on Peter Pan movies, in this blog’s early days, I only wrote about the three theatrically released ones and the various TV versions of the musical by Mark Charlap and Carolyn Leigh. Now I’d like to do two less iconic TV movie adaptations. To call them “less iconic” isn’t to say that no one has ever seen them or liked them. They each won an Emmy after all. Still, compared to some other Peter Pans, I don’t hear many people talking about them. As you’ve doubtless guessed by now, I think they deserve a little more appreciation. Mind you, I think they deserve some criticism too.

Peter Pan (1976)

I initially assumed this television musical starring Mia Farrow as Peter and Danny Kaye as Mr. Darling/Captain Hook was made to compete with the 1960 Mary Martin version. To my (mild) surprise, both were actually made by NBC.[1]Actually, the 1976 movie was a British-American collaboration between ITV and NBC. This one definitely follows in the prior musical’s footsteps, especially when it comes to song ideas. There’s a bedtime prayer sung by Mrs. Darling (Virginia McKenna) and her children before she leaves for her party. Peter Pan sings a celebratory song once he gets his shadow reattached. He sings another song about flying as he teaches Wendy (Briony McRoberts), John (Ian Sharrock) and Michael (Adam Stafford) how to do so. There’s a song and dance done by Tiger Lily (Paul Kelly) and her tribe as our introduction to them. You get the idea.

Unlike the 1960 TV musical, this one only aired once and that’s kind of sad in my opinion. While neither movie is exactly to the tastes of modern audiences, I feel like the 1976 Peter Pan is superior to the 1960 one in most aspects. Not every aspect, mind you, but most. It begins, more or less, with footage of Kensington Gardens, Peter’s early stomping grounds according to J. M. Barrie[2]If these aren’t the real Kensington Gardens, they’re a pretty impressive recreation., and voiceover narration from an actor no less distinguished than John Gielgud.

I’m sorry these are the highest quality images I could get.

While the sets for the rest of the movie are obviously sets, they’re still much more elaborate and visually appealing than the ones from the 1960 Peter Pan.

I’d like to see a restoration of this old broadcast.

While the scripts for both musicals take most of their dialogue from Barrie, I think this one by Peter Pan/Barrie scholar Andrew Birkin[3]Interestingly, he wasn’t yet a scholar on those subjects when he wrote this script. He became one later when doing research for his 1978 biographical miniseries, The Lost Boys. makes better choices or at least more interesting ones.[4]Like the 1953 Disney movie, it has the Lost Boys ultimately decide to stay in Neverland. That’s the only way in which the 1960 musical is closer to the source material. For what it’s … Continue reading For example, it intercuts the Darlings’ joyful flight from their nursery with their loving parents returning to find them gone, leaving us with mixed feelings that are true to the spirit of the source material.

Also, while none of the character portrayals in this Peter Pan are my favorites, I enjoy all the acting more than that of the other musical.[5]Nicholas Lyndhurst, who plays one of the Lost Boys, would grow up to play Uriah Heep in my favorite David Copperfield adaptation! Some might suggest that’s because the acting in the 1976 musical is more realistic and less theatrical than in the 1960 one but I don’t think that’s entirely the reason. The performances in the 2000 restaging of the Mary Martin musical, which was actually filmed onstage before a big audience, are just as hammy and I love them.

There’s really only one thing about this Peter Pan musical that strikes me as inferior to the other one. Unfortunately, it’s something pretty big. The songs are by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse who also did the songs for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.[6]Bricusse’s other credits include Scrooge (1970) and Doctor Dolittle (1967.) I didn’t care much for that movie’s songs, but these are even less memorable.[7]OK, maybe the better ones are better than the worst song from Willy Wonka. I wasn’t a fan of the songs from the 1960 Peter Pan either, but I’ll admit most of them are probably more fun in their corny way than the similarly corny 1976 songs.[8]The Peter Pan musical with the best songs that I’ve found is the one by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe who contributed original songs to the stage adaptation of Mary Poppins. In particular, Flying is catchier than its counterpart here, When You Can Fly. Both musicals (though at different points) have Peter sing a wistful solo that doesn’t fit with his general character but If I Could Build a World of My Own makes even less sense than Distant Melody. Peter basically has built a world of his own in Neverland! His 1960 counterpart singing about a lullaby he vaguely remembers his mother singing to him sort of made sense. (The problem was arguably more that it didn’t fit in with the overall tone of the movie.) I wonder if the 1976 song was originally written for and cut from a totally different musical and the songwriters were so attached to it that they had to put it somewhere.

Still, the soundtrack isn’t dreadful or anything. The opening numbers gets points for being sung by Julie Andrews(!) and it might have a better tune than most of the others too. Capt. Hook’s songs do have some clever wordplay and one of them, They Don’t Make ‘Em Like Me Anymore, is catchy though the meter sometimes strikes me as awkward.

Of all the cutthroat pirate kings who plagued the seven seas,
Quite the most appalling one to be
Is me.
(You’re telling me!)
The only old Etonian who flies the skull and cross bones,
Davy Jones’s favorite crook,
Captain Hook.

While I can’t say that most of this Peter Pan‘s songs are better as songs than those from 1960, I will argue that some of them are more interesting, dramatically speaking. In one of the only ones that doesn’t have an obvious counterpart from the Mary Martin musical, the Lost Boys sing dismissively about all the annoying things about mothers before ultimately admitting that each of them wishes he had one. Later, when Hook and his crew plan to make Wendy their mother, they sing a reprise of this song. You could argue this is untrue to J. M. Barrie who wrote in the stage direction for his play that the Lost Boys are only casually interested in their mothers “who are now as important to them as a piece of string” and in his novelization of it that “they knew in what they called their hearts that one can get on quite well without a mother and it is only the mothers who think you can’t.” Still, this adaptation’s take on the characters’ feelings is intriguing and works on its own terms. Back in 1960, Peter sang a cheerfully defiant anthem about not growing up. In 1976, albeit at a different point in the story, he sings a bitter diatribe about the loss of youth. I can’t say the resulting song is better than I Won’t Grow Up as a song, but again I find it more interesting.

In my series on Peter Pan adaptations, I made it a rule to only do straightforward retellings, not modern twists on the material. But this post isn’t really part of that series and I’m going to write about one that comes close to being both a modern twist and a straightforward retelling. Confused? Keep reading.

Peter and Wendy (2015)[9]Not to be confused with the 2023 Disney+ movie Peter Pan and Wendy.

“Of Peter himself you must make what you will. Perhaps he was a little boy who died young, and this is how the author conceived his subsequent adventures.”-J. M. Barrie

This ITV film was written by Adrian Hodges who also wrote my favorite David Copperfield adaptation and directed by Diarmuid Lawrence who was also one of the directors of my favorite Little Dorrit adaptation (although there’s not as much competition for that honor.)[10]Lawrence also directed an adaptation of Emma that’s decidedly not my favorite, but let’s not hold that against him. It tells the story of Lucy Rose (Hazel Doupe), a modern young teen with a critical heart condition. To undergo a risky surgery, she is admitted to the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children to which J. M. Barrie left the rights to Peter Pan. A twinkly eyed old man (Bjarne Henrikson) gives her a first edition copy of the novel to read. She initially dismisses it (not angrily) as being for little kids, but she ends up reading it aloud to younger patients at the hospital and gets sucked into the story. “It’s funny,” she explains, “and a bit sadder than I remember.”

As Lucy and the other kids bring the tale to life in their imaginations, Lucy’s mother (undervalued actress Laura Fraser) becomes Mrs. Darling, Dr. Wylie (Stanley Tucci) and his team, who are to perform Lucy’s operation, become Capt. Hook and his crew[11]Coincidentally or not, Wylie is also the last name of the heroine of J. M. Barrie’s play, What Every Woman Knows. and pop singer Paloma Faith, of whom Lucy is a fan, becomes Tinker Bell. I love the contrast in this adaptation between the tinkly, bell-like sound of the fairy language and the somewhat vulgar content of Tink’s subtitles.

The boys at the hospital become John (Maurice Cole), Michael (Patrick Williams) and the Lost Boys. Lucy herself becomes Wendy and the movie cuts back and forth between her in critical condition and Wendy and other characters in danger. As the movie proceeds, we start to wonder if everything with Peter Pan is really in her imagination. A throwaway line from the book, which this film cites, is that according to in-universe stories, “when children died, (Peter) went part of the way with them so that they should not be frightened.” Is that what he’s doing to Lucy?!

Intentionally or not, this movie resembles the 2003 Peter Pan in many ways. Both of them portray Wendy as more of an action heroine and both even have her tell a version of Cinderella that makes her the same. Both embrace the tragic aspect of Peter (Zak Sutcliffe) and Wendy’s doomed relationship. Both have John and Michael briefly encounter the ticking crocodile when they’re separated from Peter and Wendy.[12]By the way, while John is traditionally portrayed as wearing glasses, this is the only version I’ve seen where both he and Michael are bespectacled. And both have children all over the world (or the English-speaking parts of it anyway) express their belief in fairies to save Tinker Bell, as in the novelization, rather than rely on viewer participation as in the stage play. I sometimes think I might like Peter and Wendy’s version of that scene better than the earlier adaptation’s since it’s less self-indulgent though I really do like the music from the 2003 scene.

What’s not so like Peter Pan (2003) is Capt. Hook. Whereas Jason Issacs’s pirate captain was creepy with only an undertone of camp, Stanley Tucci’s is a completely comic figure. Even when this Hook is killing one of his crew (Asim Chaudhry) for accidentally spitting on his boots, he fails to be even as intimidating as Hans Conried’s technically more bumbling Hook from the 1953 movie. I might have preferred a more menacing, though still funny, take on the character but I can’t complain. You see, while the pirates have more original dialogue than any of the other characters, they’re hilarious. “Educational standards were higher in my day, Mr. Smee,” Hook laments at one point. “Back then, being a pirate was all about hard work! It was blood, sweat and tears. Mainly blood.” Smee (Rasmus Hardiker) says that he got an F on his entrance exam. “They said it stood for fantastic,” he adds proudly. Later, two other pirates (Gershwyn Eustache Jr. and Ricky Champ) praise Hook for never having them lashed without a good reason “even if he won’t tell you what the reason is.” I’d better stop before I spoil all these characters’ great lines.

Unfortunately, the mention of Hook brings me back to some things I don’t think work as well about this movie. For the most part, I think the connection between the fantastical scenes and the realistic scenes is great. For example, the interior of the Darlings’ nursery looks like, well, a nursery but when the children take flight out the window, it becomes a window in the Great Ormond Street Hospital, and they soar over a modern-day London. The implication seems to be this is what the patients wish they could do.

And Marooners’ Rock, a place of refuge for weary swimmers but a death trap with the changing of the tide, is made up of hospital beds and operating tables.

But there doesn’t seem to be much of a reason why Dr. Wylie should be Capt. Hook. He’s a tad prickly, mind you, but a benevolent character who has a good relationship with Lucy. Maybe the idea is that she subconsciously resents him because of she resents being at the hospital in general or she’s worried about the surgery he’s going to perform. Or is it because Mr. Darling and Hook are traditionally portrayed by the same actor and Lucy’s divorced mother is attracted to Wylie? It’s not clear what the double casting is supposed to mean in the play or movies that use it, if it’s supposed to mean anything at all, and I don’t really have a problem with that there. But it feels like it should mean something specific in this film, given the style. It might make sense if Lucy didn’t want her mom to date again. In that case, Wendy returning to her father could symbolize Lucy accepting it. But as it is, she encourages her mother right from the beginning. Maybe it’s a subconscious thing? When she and her mother have a brief argument about her father in an early scene, Mum says, “you always defend him.” If I’d been writing the movie, I might have made Lucy be estranged from her father herself and had him be Hook. As it is, I guess this particular double role can be argued into coherence.

My least favorite thing about the film is regrettably Zak Sutcliffe as Peter Pan himself. I get that the movie wants to delve into the darker aspects of the source material but even when he’s smiling, this Peter seems oddly subdued and lacking in gaiety. I prefer Jeremy Sumpter’s Peter who was angstier than some Pans but still playful. For that matter, so was Mia Farrow’s. Even Cathy Rigby’s ultra exuberant Peter Pan had some well-done sad moments. Actors and adaptations don’t need to choose one or the other.

If you’re wondering to whom Peter corresponds in Lucy’s regular life, in a rare scene at her home, we get a look at a photo of her and a boy who is played by the same actor. The implication seems to be that he was a friend or boyfriend of Lucy’s who died, tying into her being told that J. M. Barrie based Peter on his brother who died young and therefore never grew up.[13]I’m not sure if that’s actually true or just speculation on the part of biographers by the way. It might be true though. “Not a bad way to remember someone you loved,” another character says.[14]Going by this interpretation, Wendy regretfully leaving Peter and Neverland to grow up signifies that while part of Lucy wishes to join her friend or boyfriend in the afterlife, a larger part of her … Continue reading It all makes sense, but I wish the movie could have been a trifle more explicit. I’m not saying I want everything spoon fed to me, but it didn’t actually occur to me that the boy in the photo might be supposed to be deceased until someone online suggested it. A single line of dialogue to imply it wouldn’t have had to be too heavy handed.

Ending spoilers in this paragraph. In addition to being a tribute to Peter Pan, this movie is also a tribute to the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children. I like that it shows us one child whom the doctors are able to save and one whom they aren’t, acknowledging that not all stories about hospitals have happy endings but some do.

I’ve written before that Barrie was a naturally ambiguous writer. While on the surface, Peter Pan seems like it’s saying that growing up is a necessary evil at best, it’s so upfront about the bad things about kids that the thoughtful reader can’t help but suspect it’s being ironic. On the other hand, to unequivocally describe the parts that celebrate or seem to celebrate childhood as ironic is also an oversimplification. It used to be that Peter Pan movies would take the position that being a kid is better than being an adult. (cf. Peter Pan (1953), Peter Pan (1960), Return to Neverland (2002.)) [15]Then again, the 1953 movie does end with Wendy telling her father she’s ready to grow up and the 1960 ends with the Lost Boys cheerfully singing that they will grow up after all. Still, in … Continue reading More recent takes have gone the opposite route, proclaiming that growing up is something to be embraced. (cf. Peter Pan (2003), Wendy (2020), Peter Pan and Wendy (2023.)) [16]I think the last Peter Pan-related movie to be anti-growing up was Finding Neverland (2004.) If I recall correctly, Hook (1991) spends most of its runtime being pro-childhood and anti-adulthood but … Continue reading This film is the only one to really capture the neutrality of the source material. Of course, much of that is due to it focusing less on the theme of youth vs maturity and more on the less obvious theme of mortality. But that brings me to something else I enjoy about Peter and Wendy.

Sometime ago I wrote about how some adaptations function as commentaries on the original work, more so than adaptations always do, using Peter Pan (2003) and Little Women (2019) as examples. I argued that such adaptations can be fun and interesting and can draw viewers’ attention to things about the source material they might not have noticed otherwise but they run the risk of misrepresenting the original authors’ intentions and can make reading their original work anticlimactic. The nice thing about Peter and Wendy is that, unlike the 2003 Peter Pan or, for that matter, the 2019 Little Women, it doesn’t pretend that it’s anything other than the subjective imaginings of modern readers. Those movies started out as, more or less, straightforward adaptations and by the end, for better and for worse, the specific interpretations of the adapters had taken over. Peter and Wendy, on the other hand, puts the fact that what we’re seeing is what someone is imagining based on the book front and center. Thus, we get things like Indian princess Tiger Lily (Natifa Mai) being Hindi rather than American and Capt. Hook being described as “worse than Capt. Jack Sparrow” rather than being compared to Flint and Barbecue AKA John Silver. There’s not much danger of anyone watching this movie and assuming it’s exactly what J. M. Barrie intended. Peter and Wendy gives us the specific pleasures of a commentary-type adaptation while minimizing the drawbacks.

And now I think I’ve got the Peter Pan bug out of my system.

References

References
↑1 Actually, the 1976 movie was a British-American collaboration between ITV and NBC.
↑2 If these aren’t the real Kensington Gardens, they’re a pretty impressive recreation.
↑3 Interestingly, he wasn’t yet a scholar on those subjects when he wrote this script. He became one later when doing research for his 1978 biographical miniseries, The Lost Boys.
↑4 Like the 1953 Disney movie, it has the Lost Boys ultimately decide to stay in Neverland. That’s the only way in which the 1960 musical is closer to the source material. For what it’s worth, I understand why the decision was made since showing all the Boys being adopted by the Darlings is complicated.
↑5 Nicholas Lyndhurst, who plays one of the Lost Boys, would grow up to play Uriah Heep in my favorite David Copperfield adaptation!
↑6 Bricusse’s other credits include Scrooge (1970) and Doctor Dolittle (1967.
↑7 OK, maybe the better ones are better than the worst song from Willy Wonka.
↑8 The Peter Pan musical with the best songs that I’ve found is the one by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe who contributed original songs to the stage adaptation of Mary Poppins.
↑9 Not to be confused with the 2023 Disney+ movie Peter Pan and Wendy.
↑10 Lawrence also directed an adaptation of Emma that’s decidedly not my favorite, but let’s not hold that against him.
↑11 Coincidentally or not, Wylie is also the last name of the heroine of J. M. Barrie’s play, What Every Woman Knows.
↑12 By the way, while John is traditionally portrayed as wearing glasses, this is the only version I’ve seen where both he and Michael are bespectacled.
↑13 I’m not sure if that’s actually true or just speculation on the part of biographers by the way. It might be true though.
↑14 Going by this interpretation, Wendy regretfully leaving Peter and Neverland to grow up signifies that while part of Lucy wishes to join her friend or boyfriend in the afterlife, a larger part of her wants to live.
↑15 Then again, the 1953 movie does end with Wendy telling her father she’s ready to grow up and the 1960 ends with the Lost Boys cheerfully singing that they will grow up after all. Still, in 1953, Wendy’s father tells her there’s plenty of time for that and the last line of spoken dialogue in the 1960 musical is Peter telling her she’s now too old to go back to Neverland.
↑16 I think the last Peter Pan-related movie to be anti-growing up was Finding Neverland (2004.) If I recall correctly, Hook (1991) spends most of its runtime being pro-childhood and anti-adulthood but ultimately subverts it.
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Return to Neverland Is Better Before It Actually Returns to Neverland

Posted on June 6, 2025 by stationmaster

That Mother’s Day post got me in the mood to blog about Peter Pan adaptations, ones I haven’t really covered here in detail before. Technically, the movie I’ll be discussing in this post is a sequel to Peter Pan (1953), but it does take a number of things from the original source material by J. M. Barrie so it kind of counts as an adaptation.

Return to Neverland was released in 2002 by DisneyToon, Disney’s subsidiary studio that mostly made spinoffs and sequels to their main animation studio’s films. Return to Neverland was one of their few projects to get a theatrical release as opposed to going straight to television or video.[1]Most of the others to receive that honor were Winnie the Pooh movies. Was it because the company thought it was so good or that its visuals were so impressive that they had to be seen on the big screen? Or did they just think it might make more money that way for some reason?[2]The credits include the names of Kevin Lima and Roger Allers, both of whom worked on some of Disney’s A-list animated movies. That might indicate the company wanted this one to be special. The movie’s opening is pretty cool. Tinker Bell flies through the night sky over London illuminating the shapes of characters and objects from the 1953 Peter Pan in the clouds, giving us a recap of sorts. I love how the musical theme for each character or item is heard on the soundtrack when it appears.

As I mentioned, the filmmakers clearly read the original book for inspiration. The sequel’s premise is that, as in Barrie, the adult Wendy (voiced by Kath Soucie)[3]Kathryn Beaumont, the original voice of Wendy was originally going to reprise her role and even recorded all her dialogue but for whatever reasons, none of her performance was used, which is a really … Continue reading has a little girl named Jane (Harriet Owen) who also goes to Neverland and has adventures with Peter Pan (Blayne Weaver, probably the voice actor who sounds the least like the 1953 character.) The twist is that this Jane is no Pan fangirl. She used to love listening to her mother’s stories about him, just as her little brother Danny (Andrew McDonough) still does, but by the time the sequel’s story really gets underway, she’s come to consider them “childish nonsense.” Becoming a responsible adult has become Jane’s main goal in life, understandably so since both her parents and possibly her brother or herself could die at any moment. Her beloved father (Richard Rees who starred in the Royal Shakespeare Company’s epic production of Nicholas Nickleby!) is off fighting in World War II, London is being bombed, and she and Danny are about to be evacuated, leaving their mother behind. The movie’s beginning is a lot darker and more dramatic than anything in the 1953 film and, honestly, I’m down for it.

The night before Jane and Danny are set to leave, Wendy begs her daughter to tell Peter Pan stories to her little brother since they comfort him or, at least, distract him from his bad situation. But Jane angrily refuses and even shouts at Danny that Peter Pan isn’t real. The ensuing scene of Jane by herself in her room, the same room Wendy slept in as a child, is pretty great. You may recall that the young Wendy asked her mother to keep the nursery window open at night for Peter Pan. Not only is that same window now shut but it has taped X’s on it to protect it from shock waves, a nice visual symbol for lost innocence. I love how Jane smiles nostalgically up at the famous second star to the right through that window and then that smile fades as her gaze travels down to the smoked-out city below. I don’t love the pop song, I’ll Try, that accompanies this scene, but I appreciate how its lyrics emphasize that Jane really wishes she could believe what her mother and brother do but feels like she can’t. I can see how, say, a young adult struggling to believe in the religion their parents taught them as children would really relate to this scene. It’s pretty powerful stuff.

After Jane cries herself to sleep, a flying pirate ship appears over her house. Captain Hook (Corey Burton, the voice actor who sounds the most like his 1953 counterpart) and his crew descend, stuff Jane in a sack, mistaking her for Wendy, and fly with her across London and back to Neverland.[4]How did they get their ship back after Peter and the Lost Boys took it over at the end of the original movie? And would the pixie dust that made it fly really still be effective after all these … Continue reading This scene is probably the main reason this movie got a theatrical release. Unfortunately, the CGI hasn’t aged well.

Fortunately, I find the scene great anyway. It’s probably the highlight of Return to Neverland.

Strangely though, once the movie actually does return to Neverland, it gradually but steadily goes downhill.

Hook uses Jane as bait in a trap for Peter, threatening to feed her to a giant octopus. Peter, however, rescues her and gives Hook a taste of his own medicine-and the octopus a taste of Hook. This is the movie’s other big twist on the original. Instead of Hook being pursued by a crocodile who, thanks to Peter, is obsessed with getting another bite of him, he now has this new nemesis who is so similar that the squelching noise he makes even sounds like a ticking clock. I guess the filmmakers felt that more of the crocodile would just be repetitive but that a sequel without him would feel weird.[5]Jane and Danny’s nursemaid is a dog like their mother and uncles’ by the way. Nana wasn’t replaced by a walrus or anything. It’s not like the crocodile died or anything at the end of Peter Pan.

Jane initially enjoys getting to see the place she’s only heard about in her mother’s stories, but she’s horrified to learn from Peter that the only way for her to get back home is to fly. Due to her lack of faith and trust, Tinker Bell’s pixie dust won’t stick to her. Peter guesses that Jane’s notebook, in which she writes down important things she needs to remember, is what is weighing her down with all its grownup concerns. He and the Lost Boys play a game of keep away with it which ends with the plump Lost Boy (Spencer Breslin) accidentally ingesting it. In a way, I applaud the movie for making Peter and the Lost Boys such immature jerks since J. M. Barrie’s thesis in Peter Pan was that “children are gay and innocent and heartless.” It’s nice that this spinoff doesn’t shy away from that last part. But it works against this movie’s own thesis which is unambiguously that Jane needs to be more like Peter and the Lost Boys. It’s hard to see why [6]To be fair, Peter does sympathize with Jane when she explains just why she’s so desperate to get home. And it doesn’t help that the slapstick comedy of the Boys isn’t nearly as funny as the original movie’s slapstick. (That’s not to say Return to Neverland boasts no good comedy. It just doesn’t typically involve these characters.)

Actually, this relates to the movie’s biggest problem for thoughtful viewers. On the one hand, I think it’s great that they gave Jane sympathetic reasons for wanting to grow up so fast. It’s much more interesting than having her just be an arrogant killjoy. But I feel like they made her reasons too sympathetic. Her bedside manner could certainly use some work but is Jane really wrong for saying that she and her brother need to be responsible and mature? Under their grave circumstances, it’s pretty much true. I think the movie is trying to say that the themes of good conquering evil in Wendy’s stories can help people of any age. But I feel like Peter Pan is simultaneously too fluffy[7]The Disney version anyway. and too amoral a fantasy to support that message.[8]In an interesting coincidence, it wouldn’t be many years later that Disney would release another movie that was (partially) about a young girl being evacuated from London during the Blitz who … Continue reading

The next three paragraphs are full of spoilers. Skip to the conclusion if you’re interested in seeing the movie. Getting back to that scene of Jane’s notebook being destroyed, she lashes out in anger, saying, “I don’t believe in any of this! And I especially don’t believe in fairies!” This causes Tinker Bell to fall dangerously ill. Peter and the Lost Boys’ goal for the rest of the movie is to save her by getting Jane to believe in fairies.[9]By the way, in the 1953 movie, Tinker Bell was only referred to as a pixie, not a fairy, for some reason. I like that this sequel is harkening back to a memorable plot point from the original book and stage play but they don’t get it quite right. It’s true that in Peter Pan, “every time a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead,” But it wasn’t just any random child saying so that made them die.[10]To be fair, the 2003 Peter Pan makes this mistake too. Each fairy was born when a child laughed for the first time and perished when that child stopped believing in them.[11]Barrie wrote that Tinker Bell died long before Jane was born, presumably since her corresponding child lost faith but no adaptation I can remember has had the heart to keep that detail. Moreover, it’s pretty obvious that Jane just says she doesn’t believe out of spite. Earlier, she told herself that this was all a dream but by this scene, she clearly doesn’t believe that anymore since she’s desperate to find a way home. This makes the whole plotline with Tinker Bell kind of dumb since Jane doesn’t seem cruel enough to deliberately kill her. Realistically, all Peter needs to do is explain the situation to her and, of course, he doesn’t do that until the movie is almost over.

Lost Boy Slightly (Quinn Beswick) having a thermometer is another allusion to the source material.

Shortly after Jane’s statement of disbelief, Capt. Hook approaches her with a proposition much like the one he made to Tinker Ball in the 1953 film. He’ll take her back to London in his ship if she helps him find the chest of treasure Peter stole from him long ago.[12]In the book, Peter and the Lost Boys also had a pirate treasure though it wasn’t stolen from Hook. He promises not to harm a hair on Peter’s head and gives Jane a whistle, telling her to signal him with it when she finds the treasure. When the crucial moment comes, however, she throws the whistle away. But then one of the Lost Boys finds it and innocently blows on it, summoning the treacherous Hook who captures them and credits Jane. I guess the filmmakers realized it would be pretty stupid for Jane to trust Hook after growing up listening to stories of his villainy, especially when, you know, he recently kidnapped her.[13]Credit where credit is due, the scene of him faking remorse is the funniest in the movie, especially the picture of his mother that he shows Jane. But they couldn’t think of another direction to take the story. The result is that Jane feels guilty and has to redeem herself when it doesn’t really feel like she needs to do so.[14]I suppose she should have just not accepted the whistle in the first place.

Of course, all ends happily (except for Hook and his crew) and we even get a scene of the adult Wendy reuniting with Peter Pan that’s a lot less depressing than the scene J. M. Barrie wrote. (That’s not necessarily a complaint by the way. I found the movie’s scene quite touching.)

Ordinarily, I’d avoid writing about a movie like Return to Neverland since it’s ultimately neither particularly good nor particularly bad, just kind of meh, and pieces of entertainment like that usually aren’t very interesting. But, as I said, I’m in a Peter Pan mood and I do find it interesting how the best things about Return to Neverland, like the character of Jane, also tend to lead to its biggest dramatic problems.

Next Week: I Cover Two Lesser-Known Peter Pan Adaptations

References

References
↑1 Most of the others to receive that honor were Winnie the Pooh movies.
↑2 The credits include the names of Kevin Lima and Roger Allers, both of whom worked on some of Disney’s A-list animated movies. That might indicate the company wanted this one to be special.
↑3 Kathryn Beaumont, the original voice of Wendy was originally going to reprise her role and even recorded all her dialogue but for whatever reasons, none of her performance was used, which is a really frustrating piece of trivia. Beaumont may have sounded too old at the time, but I’d still have loved to hear her as Wendy again. Actually, if you do the math with the time periods, Wendy really should be older than she appears here.
↑4 How did they get their ship back after Peter and the Lost Boys took it over at the end of the original movie? And would the pixie dust that made it fly really still be effective after all these years? Your guess is good as mine.
↑5 Jane and Danny’s nursemaid is a dog like their mother and uncles’ by the way. Nana wasn’t replaced by a walrus or anything.
↑6 To be fair, Peter does sympathize with Jane when she explains just why she’s so desperate to get home.
↑7 The Disney version anyway.
↑8 In an interesting coincidence, it wouldn’t be many years later that Disney would release another movie that was (partially) about a young girl being evacuated from London during the Blitz who favors pseudo adult practicality over childlike faith. Like Jane, the girl has a much more playful and intuitive younger siblings to whom she feels protective and, also like Jane, she gets stuck in a magical world. I recommend that movie much more than I do Return to Neverland.
↑9 By the way, in the 1953 movie, Tinker Bell was only referred to as a pixie, not a fairy, for some reason.
↑10 To be fair, the 2003 Peter Pan makes this mistake too.
↑11 Barrie wrote that Tinker Bell died long before Jane was born, presumably since her corresponding child lost faith but no adaptation I can remember has had the heart to keep that detail.
↑12 In the book, Peter and the Lost Boys also had a pirate treasure though it wasn’t stolen from Hook.
↑13 Credit where credit is due, the scene of him faking remorse is the funniest in the movie, especially the picture of his mother that he shows Jane.
↑14 I suppose she should have just not accepted the whistle in the first place.
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An Adaptation Station Mother’s Day

Posted on May 10, 2025 by stationmaster

In honor of Mother’s Day this year, I’m doing a post looking back on some of my favorite mom characters from adaptations this blog has covered. It shouldn’t be a surprise that parents pop up in so many stories, even more so than romance, since, after all, everybody has parents. Still, considering how conventional it is for the mothers of protagonists to die in childbirth[1]Even back in the 1700s, Jane Austen joked about it in her book Northanger Abbey., I was surprised, looking back over this blog, to see how many of the stories it’s discussed have mothers as prominent characters. I decided to only write about four of them in this post, limiting myself to a certain kind of “Mom” archetype. No evil mothers (Sorry, Lady Susan) or even just dysfunctional ones (so no Mrs. Bennet.)[2]Although, in fairness, the only Pride and Prejudice adaptation I’ve reviewed in depth makes her a tad more of a sympathetic character than the book does. I’m also sticking to biological mothers, not adopted ones like Betsey Trotwood, though I did allow ones who were also mother figures to characters besides their children. To qualify for this list, a mother has to not only love her child or children but be actively raising them, disqualifying Fantine and Lady Dedlock. While the four winners didn’t have to be perfect, they had to be at least good mothers. I didn’t plan for this but they each ended up being from a story (originally) for young people though not necessarily the same age.

After all that whittling things down, who made the cut? Well…

Mary Darling (Olivia Williams) from Peter Pan (2003)

Mother of Wendy (Rachel Hurd-Wood), John (Harry Newell) and Michael (Freddie Popplewell)
Adopted Mother (eventually) to Nibs (Harry Eden), Slightly (Theodore Chester), Curly (George MacKay), Tootles (Rupert Simonian) and the Twins (Patrick and Lachlan Gooch.)
Married to George (Jason Issacs)

I should say that the 2000 Peter Pan is a more consistently great adaptation, in my opinion, but the character of Mrs. Darling isn’t developed as much in it and while Barbara McCulloh is well cast, Olivia Williams does a better job of embodying the character if you ask me.

Mrs. Darling represents a specific maternal archetype: warm, loving, beautiful, sweet, patient and soothing. Unlike her husband, a decidedly flawed fatherly archetype, she’s seemingly perfect.[3]Mr. Darling’s personality is pretty different in the 2003 movie from what it is in the book, with his prouder, more commanding characteristics being given to the new character of Aunt Millicent … Continue reading Or is she? According to Peter Pan‘s creator, J. M. Barrie, she’s a bit too sweet for her own good. When her children thoughtlessly fly the coop, abandoning her, she doesn’t get angry or even consider punishing them should she get the chance. She, not being able to follow them to Neverland, just tearfully waits for their return, always leaving the nursery window open for them. Part of the original book’s thesis was that children will always take advantage of this kind of unconditional love. Thus, to be a mother (and, arguably, to be an adult) is to leave oneself open to abuse. In the penultimate chapter of Peter Pan, Barrie wrote that he despised Mrs. Darling for her weakness but then after describing her sorrow, he turned right around and wrote, “I find I won’t be able to say nasty things about her after all. If she was too fond of her rubbishy children, she couldn’t help it…Some like Peter best and some like Wendy best but I like her best.” How much of this was Barrie being playful with his authorial voice and how much of it was sincerely meant is anyone’s guess, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Darling really was his favorite of the characters. Her motherly virtues and her motherly plight certainly are part of Peter Pan‘s appeal.

Of course, the movie doesn’t have Barrie’s narration[4]Well, it does have recurring voiceover narration (read by Saffron Burrows) which often draws from Barrie but that’s not the same thing. and you don’t really get this double sense of Mrs. Darling as both heroic and pathetic from it. This blog post is supposed to be about adaptations of these maternal characters, but I find I’ve written an entire paragraph that’s all about the original. Not a promising start. I’d better course correct. The biggest thing that the 2003 adaptation brings to the character of Mrs. Darling is a speech she gives to her children about their mild banker father who “has never brandished a sword nor fired a pistol, thank heavens, but he has made many sacrifices for his family and put away many dreams.” Using Barrie-esque language, she describes him as putting those dreams in a drawer and occasionally taking them out at night to admire them. “It gets harder and harder to close the drawer. He does. And that is why he is brave.” The movie suggests that unglamorous but self-sacrificing Mr. Darling may be the real hero rather than the dashing Peter Pan (Jeremy Sumpter) whose eternal childhood comes with perpetual selfishness.[5]Well, that’s a bit of an oversimplification. In the original story anyway, Peter does have moments of unselfishness, most notably when he and Wendy are stranded on Marooners’ Rock, he … Continue reading But now we’re drifting from the subject of mothers to fathers, so I’d better get back on topic.

Ellen Andrews (Barbara Harris/Jodie Foster) from Freaky Friday (1976)

Mother of Annabel (Jodie Foster/Barbara Harris) and Ben (Sparky Marcus)
Married to Bill (John Astin)

I know most people prefer the 2003 Freaky Friday and I’ll grant that Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan give better performances as that movie’s equivalent of this mother than Harris and Foster gave. (If you don’t know the premise of Freaky Friday, it’s about a mother and daughter who switch bodies for a day hence my crediting two actresses as one character.) But I prefer this adaptation since it’s closer to the original book by Mary Rodgers and its characters. That’s not to say Mrs. Andrew is exactly the same though.

Like Mrs. Darling, Ellen Andrews is good looking, gracious, maternal and conventionally ladylike but, unlike Mrs. Darling, we see her yelling at and arguing with her daughter. Not that I blame her since Annabel is something of a slovenly, irresponsible, opinionated rebel. The story reinforces her mother’s words, “When you’re grown up, people don’t tell you what to do. You have to tell yourself which is sometimes more difficult.” Mom is even more justified in the source material. There Mrs. Andrews isn’t a protagonist on equal footing with Annabel but a mentor figure who inexplicably has the ability to swap bodies with her daughter. She does so for the better part of a day to teach her a lesson and succeeds in this perfectly. Not only does half the film follow Mrs. Andrews, but it also makes her a more flawed character who has her own lesson to learn.[6]For what it’s worth, Mary Rodgers wrote both the book and the screenplay. At the beginning, she glibly tells Annabel that “childhood is the best time of a person’s life.” Then when they switch places through means mysterious to both of them, she finds she’s expected to have all kinds of skills she never learned as a kid. She has to develop film for a still photography class, use an electric typewriter, keep time in a marching band, play field hockey and waterski. She also gains a new respect for the complex social dynamics of school. Ellen easily wows her daughter’s history teacher (Barbara Walden) with her knowledge but when she does so, her daughter’s peers resent her for making them look bad, branding her a nerd, a showoff and a teacher’s pet. “How do you win?” she wonders. “One bunch thumps you if you don’t do well, the other bunch snubs you if you do!”

In spite of her having more to learn in this adaptation, I’d still call Ellen a good mother.[7]And I wouldn’t say the mother in the book was meant to be totally perfect by the way. The story backs up her daughter’s criticism of her smoking addiction. (It affected her sense of … Continue reading When she’s bruised and exasperated from playing field hockey in Annabel’s place, she considers calling it quits. Then members of the other team taunt her or, rather, her daughter, calling her “yellow.” “Annabel yellow?” thinks Mrs. Andrews. “Sloppy, yes. Yellow, never!” And with that, she’s back in the game and even manages to score a goal-though not for the right team. Whatever her criticisms of her daughter, she won’t let anyone besmirch her honor. (Indeed, that’s probably why she’s so tough on her.) And for all their differences, both Ellen and Annabel have the same determined spirit. It turns out they also share a capacity to admit their flaws. After having to do laundry, iron shirts, pay a mechanic (Jack Sheldon), attend a parent-teacher conference and cook a buffet for her father’s employers at the last minute, Annabel tells her mother she’s a lot dumber than she thought she was.[8]The daughter in the 2003 movie isn’t humbled nearly as much. That’s one of the reasons I chose this version. Smiling, Ellen hugs her and says, “Oh, my darling, aren’t we all?”

“Marmee” March (Laura Dern) from Little Women (2019)

Mother of Meg (Emma Watson), Jo (Saoirse Ronan), Beth (Eliza Scanlen) and Amy (Florence Pugh)
Honorary mother to Theodore Laurence (Timothee Chalamet)
Married to “Father” March (Bob Odenkirk)[9]I don’t believe either parent is named in the original book or this particular adaptation.

I’m more of a fan of Susan Sarandon’s performance as this character in the 1994 Little Women but I believe this movie’s script does a far better job of developing her as a character and it’s not like Laura Dern is bad in the role. (The Little Women film that resonates with me the most, personally, is actually the 2018 one but the Marmee in it is fairly underwhelming.)

This character represents a motherly archetype even more idealized than Mrs. Darling’s. She combines that fictional mom’s loving attitude and warmth with some of Mrs. Andrews’s toughness and emphasis on discipline-without needing to learn to empathize with her children’s feelings. When her youngest daughter gets caned at school for drawing a caricature of her teacher (Bill Mootos), she immediately takes her out of the class, but she also makes sure Amy knows she “did wrong and there will be consequences.” She supports her children’s various artistic ambitions, no matter how impractical, and while the movie doesn’t show this as the book does, it’s implied she discourages them from marrying for money. But she also doesn’t hesitate to contradict their wishes by asking them to give their Christmas feast to their destitute neighbors, chiding Meg for wearing too small shoes for the sake of fashion and urging Jo and Amy not to be angry with each other. She models hard work and selflessness by helping out at a Soldier’s Aid Society. I don’t blame anyone for considering Mrs. March insufferably preachy and too good to be true, not in theory anyway, but I always admire her when I read the book by Louisa May Alcott or partake of an adaptation of it. Maybe it’s the strength the character shows in the face of the harsh circumstances she faces with her husband at war, a daughter with Scarlet Fever and not much money.

Is Marmee really perfect? Not necessarily. In one scene, Jo is terrified that she’ll never be able to control her fierce temper. Surprisingly, the saintly Marmee says she reminds her of herself. “I’m angry nearly every day of my life,” she admits. “I am not patient by nature but with nearly forty years of effort, I’m learning to not let it get the better of me.” This confession gives Jo hope for herself. Of all the Little Women movies, this is the only one to include this moment from the book[10]The 2017 miniseries includes it too, but I found that one underwhelming and have never blogged about it. I haven’t watched other miniseries adaptations. and it’s a big reason why I chose to praise this particular version of the March matriarch. This mother’s standards may be high but she’s willing to admit she doesn’t always live up to them herself. That scene isn’t the only moment of vulnerability from Marmee that this adaptation retains from the source material. When Beth dies[11]In the book, this was right before she dies whereas in the movie, it’s right afterwards., she, who has been a rock of Gibraltar for her daughters throughout the story, breaks down crying and turns to one of them for comfort.[12]The 1933 movie also includes this.

Grace Bradley (Judy Greer) from The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (2024)

Mother of Beth (Molly Belle Wright) and Charlie (Sebastian Billingsley-Rodriguez)
Honorary mother to Ralph (Mason Nelligan), Imogene (Beatrice Schneider), Leroy (Ethan Matthys-Wood), Claude (Matthew Lamb), Ollie (Essek Moore) and Gladys Herdman (Kynlee Heiman)
Married to Bob (Pete Holmes)

Unlike with Peter Pan, Freaky Friday or Little Women, I’ve only blogged about one adaptation of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever in anything like detail. But while I enjoyed Loretta Swit’s portrayal of this character in the 1983 movie, I think I’d pick Judy Greer’s version even if I had more candidates from which to choose.

The fact that this character is a mother was somewhat irrelevant in the original book by Barbara Robinson. The first-person narrator being her young daughter allowed her to give the readers a behind-the-scenes look at her directing her church’s annual Christmas pageant one year. The 2024 movie, being a tad more sentimental, makes motherhood a bigger theme and the relationship between Grace and Beth[13]Neither of them had names in the literary Best Christmas Pageant Ever by the way but those ones do come from Barbara Robinson. Grace was named by the stage adaptation written by the author and Beth … Continue reading more important. It also has Mrs. Bradley become something of a surrogate mother, or a mentor figure anyway, to the Herdmans, “the worst kids in the history of the world,” who muscle their way into the main roles of the Christmas pageant. While she isn’t put on a pedestal as much as Marmee or Mrs. Darling, like the former, this is a mom who keeps it together in a terrible situation. OK, maybe directing a Christmas pageant starring the diabolical Herdmans isn’t as stressful as the prospect of a husband or a child dying or having all your kids disappear or suddenly exchanging bodies with your daughter but it’s up there. I say she isn’t put on a pedestal since her motivation for giving them a chance starts out as pride more than a desire to show them Christian charity but that comes to change. “The whole point of the story is that Jesus was born for the Herdmans as much as He was for us,” she tells her daughter. “We’d be missing the point of all of it if I turned them away.”

Grace chides her stars for things like taking the Lord’s name in vain, hitting each other and hypothetically snatching a baby from a stroller outside the supermarket to use as Baby Jesus in the pageant but she also compliments them on asking good questions about the Christmas story. She defends them to an understandably hostile public on the rare occasions when they’re wrongly accused. (“The Herdman children don’t talk about underwear during rehearsals. That was another boy.”) And when they want the pageant to end with Mary and Joseph brutally killing Herod, she points out that “they picked the right villain.” As Beth says looking back on the whole thing as an adult (when she’s played by Lauren Graham), “Maybe my mom didn’t lead committees or run a business or wear a power dress while shopping, but she did the right thing when no one else would.” I described the literary version of Mrs. Bradley as less sentimentalized, but that description applies to her too.

I wanted to end with this particular mother because she’s the one that reminds me the most of mine. I grew up seeing my mom direct our church’s Christmas program every year.[14]Technically, that makes her more like the character of Mrs. Armstrong (Mariam Bernstein) but never mind. Those rehearsals could be quite a hassle but while I can recall her worrying about how the programs would turn out, I never recall her losing her cool with the cast. My mother also works as a schoolteacher and regularly deals with kids as troubled as the Herdmans or worse. I don’t know how she keeps at it day after day, but she does. She’s always fair to me and my brother, giving credit and blame when they’re due and to whom they’re due.[15]Or if she doesn’t, she apologizes before too long. She inspires me just like Grace Bradley inspires Beth.

Love you, Mom!

References

References
↑1 Even back in the 1700s, Jane Austen joked about it in her book Northanger Abbey.
↑2 Although, in fairness, the only Pride and Prejudice adaptation I’ve reviewed in depth makes her a tad more of a sympathetic character than the book does.
↑3 Mr. Darling’s personality is pretty different in the 2003 movie from what it is in the book, with his prouder, more commanding characteristics being given to the new character of Aunt Millicent (Lynn Redgrave), but he’s basically a likeable bumbler in both.
↑4 Well, it does have recurring voiceover narration (read by Saffron Burrows) which often draws from Barrie but that’s not the same thing.
↑5 Well, that’s a bit of an oversimplification. In the original story anyway, Peter does have moments of unselfishness, most notably when he and Wendy are stranded on Marooners’ Rock, he lets her have the one means of escape and later he lets her return home to her parents though he wishes for her to stay with him.
↑6 For what it’s worth, Mary Rodgers wrote both the book and the screenplay.
↑7 And I wouldn’t say the mother in the book was meant to be totally perfect by the way. The story backs up her daughter’s criticism of her smoking addiction. (It affected her sense of smell, keeping her from sniffing out that her maid (Patsy Kelly in the movie) was stealing her gin.) And when recounting her Friday in the last chapter of the book, she mentions being annoyed by the condescension she received from adults when she was in her daughter’s body, suggesting Annabel may not have been the only one to learn empathy after all.
↑8 The daughter in the 2003 movie isn’t humbled nearly as much. That’s one of the reasons I chose this version.
↑9 I don’t believe either parent is named in the original book or this particular adaptation.
↑10 The 2017 miniseries includes it too, but I found that one underwhelming and have never blogged about it. I haven’t watched other miniseries adaptations.
↑11 In the book, this was right before she dies whereas in the movie, it’s right afterwards.
↑12 The 1933 movie also includes this.
↑13 Neither of them had names in the literary Best Christmas Pageant Ever by the way but those ones do come from Barbara Robinson. Grace was named by the stage adaptation written by the author and Beth was named by her sequel, The Best School Year Ever.
↑14 Technically, that makes her more like the character of Mrs. Armstrong (Mariam Bernstein) but never mind.
↑15 Or if she doesn’t, she apologizes before too long.
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Animation Station: What Makes Lady and the Tramp Special

Posted on May 2, 2025 by stationmaster

Didn’t I just say I regretted that most posts in my Animation Station feature were about Disney stuff when there are so many other animation studios out there? Yes, I did. Yet here I am doing one about Lady and the Tramp (1955), not only an animated Disney movie but quite a mainstream classic. I usually prefer to write about more obscure animated movies even when they’re from famous studios like Disney or Dreamworks. It’s not that I think those obscure movies are always better than famous ones. There are plenty of famous Disney movies I love. It’s just that I typically feel that critics or other bloggers have already written about them better than I could. What is it about this class-crossing canine romance that inspired me to devote an entire blog post to it?

I’ll get to that in a bit. First, I’ll describe some of its more obvious qualities.

Lady and the Tramp isn’t the most consistently funny Disney movie. Nor is it the most exciting or the most artistically ambitious.[1]There’s an argument to be made it’s the most romantic but I’ll get there eventually. And, honestly, the fact that it’s not any of those things is part of its appeal. This is the Disney animated movie that’s best if you want something relaxing and pleasant to watch as you curl up on the couch with a cup of hot cider or hot chocolate and preferably a Christmas tree in the room. The voice acting is all great. The songs by Sonny Burke and Peggy Lee are all great. The postcard-like backgrounds are all lovely.

The animation of the animal characters is a great blend of realistically observed animal behavior and human emotion. I also love the way the camera typically stays close to the ground so that we barely see the human characters’ faces, reflecting how this is a story from the point of view of dogs, and I enjoy the movie’s worldbuilding, the way it creates a culture for dogs-or rather two cultures: the culture of pet dogs who believe their duty is to their human owners and that of the strays for whom humans are enemies or beings to be exploited.[2]Babe (1995), another great talking-animals-movie does something similar.

Lady and the Tramp is one of the very few Disney classics that has gained another dimension for me with adult knowledge of sex.[3]I mean, it has the word, tramp, right there in the title. Note: The following paragraph (and possibly the one after that) might ruin the movie for some. You might want to skip to the sentence that begins with “Let’s move on…” As a kid, when I saw Lady (voiced by Barbara Luddy who would go on to voice other iconic Disney characters) being chased by some vicious strays, far bigger than her, I vaguely assumed they wanted to eat her or something. Having observed animals in heat since, my mind goes to other possibilities. And, as a kid, my fears for her were calmed once the Tramp (Larry Roberts)[4]This movie is one of his two IMDB credits, not counting an appearance on a TV talent contest, though apparently, he had a good career on the stage. That is something of a shame since his vocal … Continue reading fought off her attackers. As an adult, there was a brief moment of lingering tension afterwards as I wondered if this was a to-the-victor-belong-the-spoils situation.

This is probably the only Disney animated movie to have a song (He’s a Tramp) celebrating a character’s promiscuity. And certainly, the scene of Lady’s pet friends, Jock (Bill Thompson) and Trusty (Bill Baucom), offering to let her move in with either of them after she’s put in the doghouse is meant to evoke the male friends of a woman who has gotten pregnant out of wedlock offering to marry her to save her reputation.

My expression rewatching this as an adult

Let’s move on from sex to gender. Normally, I wouldn’t make that a focus, not because the topic is uninteresting but because one of my literature professors in college seemed to want to teach literature mainly as an excuse for talking about gender and this rather soured me on it. But I find it interesting to contrast this movie with two other opposites-attract love stories from Disney animated films, both from the 90s. In Beauty and the Beast (1991), the male romantic lead is initially presented as dangerously violent, angry and, well, bestial. The role of Belle, the female lead, is to tame him. Her success in this is not just signified by him becoming kinder, gentler and more self-controlled but by his wearing more clothing, using silverware (or at least attempting to do so) and engaging in such civilized pastimes as reading and ballroom dancing. In fact, the movie’s final image is of Belle and the Beast, now human, dancing while in formal wear, a very civilized image. In Tarzan (1999), civilization is again associated with femininity and uncivilization with masculinity. But in that film, uncivilization is also associated with joy, strength and freedom. The role of the male lead is to free the leading lady from the stuffy confines of civilization (and clothing.) Like Belle with the Beast, Jane is initially frightened by Tarzan’s wildness but, in her case, she’s the one who needs to change, not him.[5]At the climax of both movies, the male lead has a chance to kill the male villain but he declines, reflecting his character development. In Beauty and the Beast, however, this demonstrates that the … Continue reading The movie toys with the idea of Tarzan rejoining the human world for Jane’s sake but in the end, the opposite happens. The ending sees them swinging together through the branches of the trees.[6]I confess I’m oversimplifying both movies a bit to make my point. The Beast’s fearsomeness comes in handy for Belle when he rescues her from wild animals halfway through the film, a plot … Continue reading

Lady and the Tramp has the outline of a Beauty and the Beast plot. In the end, Tramp, who previously boasted that he had many families without any of them having him, is adopted by Lady’s owners (Lee Millar and aforementioned songwriter Peggy Lee) and acquires a collar. Monogamy is affirmed over promiscuity. But on the other hand, the climax is about Lady’s upper crust friends realizing they misjudged Tramp rather than vice versa. And, watching the movie, one doesn’t feel much of a pressing need for either lover to become more like the other. Lady’s archetypally genteel femininity and Tramp’s archetypally rugged masculinity are each presented as appealing in their own right. I don’t want to dismiss the poetic appeal of either the woman-as-a-civilizing-influence-on-man plot or the man-reconnects-woman-with-nature plot. They can make for great stories[7]If I had to choose which movie to save from a burning building, I’d probably pick Beauty and the Beast over Lady and the Tramp. I’d probably pick Lady and the Tramp over Tarzan though. I … Continue reading and there are probably thinkers out there who’d argue one or both of them tell us something profound about relationships between the sexes. But if I had to choose a model for successful romance in real life, I’d go with the dynamic between Lady and Tramp.[8]Well, that’s if the opposites attract idea is workable in real life at all, which is questionable.

While Tramp’s “bad boy” nature attracts Lady in a way with which her more respectable male friends can’t compete, Jock and Trusty are still positive characters who play a vital part in bringing about the story’s happy ending. And while Lady’s “good girl” nature holds Tramp in a way his less respectable female companions, like Peg (Peggy Lee again), can’t, Peg is a positive character too, one who defends and comforts Lady during her stay in the pound. Again, the movie’s overall spirit is one of tolerance, summed up by the dedication “to all dogs, be they ladies or tramps.”

Of course, “tolerant” may sound like a strange way to describe a movie which relies so heavily on ethnic humor. The aforementioned Jock[9]Heather Lad O’ Glencairn to strangers and Trusty represent a stereotypical scotch gentleman and a stereotypical American southern gentleman respectively. There’s also an English bulldog (Bill Thompson again) who says “blimey,” a Russian wolfhound called Boris (Alan Reed)[10]Fred Flintstone! who cites Gorky and calls dogcatchers “Cossacks,” and a chihuahua named Pedro (Dallas McKennon of Talking Christmas Tree fame) who says his sister is named Rosita Chiquita Juanita. That’s not even mentioning the blustery Irish patrolman (Bill Thompson again.) Even the offscreen characters of the various restaurateurs Tramp describes as giving him table scraps are ethnic stereotypes! The list of the movie’s characters that aren’t would be shorter.[11]And even they tend to be stereotypes, just not ethnic ones.

When this blog covered Disney’s Peter Pan as part of a series on adaptations of that story, I wrote that I couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to show it to their kids because of the cartoony stereotypes of Indigenous Americans in it. I don’t feel that way about Lady and the Tramp. Maybe that’s just nostalgia talking[12]I watched this far more often growing up than I did Peter Pan. and certainly no concerned parent should see me as the best of judge of what is appropriate for their child. But I think it comes down to how affectionately all the characters are portrayed. The stereotypical Italian restaurateurs (George Givot and Bill Thompson yet again) are responsible for the movie’s most famous scene: the spaghetti kiss.

The only really negative ethnic stereotypes are the devious Siamese cats (Peggy Lee yet again)[13]Remember this movie was made after World War II. Americans tended to view Asians with hostility. and, honestly, I don’t care who finds them offensive, I adore those cats! They sing the movie’s catchiest song[14]To be fair, most of the songs aren’t trying to be catchy per se. and provide its funniest physical comedy. My biggest complaint with the film is that they only appear for one scene. That’s not something I would say of the Indians in Disney’s Peter Pan.

Aunt Sarah (Disney veteran Verna Felton) is a more prominent antagonist but even she’s not a diabolically hissable villain, just a well-meaning old lady who’s unfortunately prejudiced against dogs. Even the dogcatchers in Lady and the Tramp (Lee Millar) come across as likeable.[15]Fans of Eastern animation might find this movie comparable to Whisper of the Heart or Kiki’s Delivery Service with their similarly relaxed pacing and emphasis on loveable characters.

Back to the love story. In most fictional romances, either the lovers fall in love at first sight, or they start out hating each other. But I don’t know many real-life couples whose relationships started that way.[16]Of the ones I’ve known, some were closer to love at first sight, but it wasn’t usually that intense. And neither do Lady and the Tramp. The first time they meet doesn’t feel particularly momentous[17]Or to the extent it does, it’s because of the doubt Tramp casts on the affection Lady’s owners have for her. and even their second meeting, while it involves Tramp rescuing Lady, doesn’t necessarily scream, “romantic.” In this way, Lady and the Tramp just might be the most down-to-earth and relatable love story Disney has ever told.

References

References
↑1 There’s an argument to be made it’s the most romantic but I’ll get there eventually.
↑2 Babe (1995), another great talking-animals-movie does something similar.
↑3 I mean, it has the word, tramp, right there in the title.
↑4 This movie is one of his two IMDB credits, not counting an appearance on a TV talent contest, though apparently, he had a good career on the stage. That is something of a shame since his vocal performance in Lady and the Tramp is wonderful.
↑5 At the climax of both movies, the male lead has a chance to kill the male villain but he declines, reflecting his character development. In Beauty and the Beast, however, this demonstrates that the hero has become civilized while in Tarzan, it represents a rejection of civilization. I feel like the Beauty and the Beast one makes more thematic sense. Mercy isn’t really typical of wild animals.
↑6 I confess I’m oversimplifying both movies a bit to make my point. The Beast’s fearsomeness comes in handy for Belle when he rescues her from wild animals halfway through the film, a plot beat that has a counterpart in Lady and the Tramp and Tarzan. And Jane introducing Tarzan to the wonders of civilization is arguably portrayed as a good thing. The “arguably” part comes from Tarzan’s animal friends being hurt when he hangs out with the humans instead of them, but can you blame Tarz for finding human civilization more interesting than the apes who just seem to wander around, eat leaves and pick bugs off each other all day?
↑7 If I had to choose which movie to save from a burning building, I’d probably pick Beauty and the Beast over Lady and the Tramp. I’d probably pick Lady and the Tramp over Tarzan though. I guess my prejudices are always going to be in favor of civilization.
↑8 Well, that’s if the opposites attract idea is workable in real life at all, which is questionable.
↑9 Heather Lad O’ Glencairn to strangers
↑10 Fred Flintstone!
↑11 And even they tend to be stereotypes, just not ethnic ones.
↑12 I watched this far more often growing up than I did Peter Pan.
↑13 Remember this movie was made after World War II. Americans tended to view Asians with hostility.
↑14 To be fair, most of the songs aren’t trying to be catchy per se.
↑15 Fans of Eastern animation might find this movie comparable to Whisper of the Heart or Kiki’s Delivery Service with their similarly relaxed pacing and emphasis on loveable characters.
↑16 Of the ones I’ve known, some were closer to love at first sight, but it wasn’t usually that intense.
↑17 Or to the extent it does, it’s because of the doubt Tramp casts on the affection Lady’s owners have for her.
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Animation Station: Rise of the Guardians Is Saved by Its Ending.

Posted on April 18, 2025 by stationmaster

I feel a bit guilty that so many of my Animation Station blog posts have been about Disney and so few have been about Dreamworks, especially since I’m planning on doing another one about a Disney movie soon as well as an Adaptation Station post that just happens to be about an animated Disney film. The only Dreamworks animated movie I really feel like writing about though is Rise of the Guardians (2012.) That’s not to say I consider it the best one or, for that matter, the worst. My favorite is Kung Fu Panda if it isn’t one of their collaborations with Aardman or one of the movies I’ve already covered here. But I don’t feel like I have anything to write about those movies that others haven’t already expressed better or will express better in the future. But I do have things to write about Rise of the Guardians. This movie wasn’t a critical or a commercial hit upon its release but has since gained a following. I can understand both of those things.

Rise of the Guardians is based, somewhat loosely, on the book series The Guardians of Childhood by William Joyce, a children’s author who has had a surprisingly big impact on American animated films. The premise is that Santa Claus (voiced by Alec Baldwin), the Easter Bunny (Hugh Jackman), the Tooth Fairy (Isla Fisher) and the Sandman (voiceless) are powerful immortal beings tasked with keeping childhood a magical, rewarding time of life. But their ancient foe, long thought defeated, has reemerged. Pitch Black the Boogeyman (Jude Law) seeks to destroy children’s belief in the Guardians and fill their lives with fear. To combat this threat, the mysterious Man in the Moon chooses rootless winter spirit Jack Frost (Chris Pine) to be a new Guardian.

Now there are a lot of holes I could pick in all this. It’s presented as a terrible thing for kids to lose faith in the Easter Bunny, but I don’t know how many actually care about him in real life. Easter just doesn’t have that much of an interesting secular mythology compared to Christmas. The movie even jokes about the Bunny not being as big a deal as Santa early on but then turns right around and presents him as a huge deal. I’m pretty sure even as kids, we all knew the Tooth Fairy was a joke, and the Sandman is considered just an expression like Jack Frost. The only one of these characters in whom a lot of kids believe is Santa Claus and I’m not even sure how true that is nowadays. The reason people can see the four Guardians and not Jack is that they believe in them but since all those Guardians are supposed to do their jobs unseen, isn’t that a rather counterproductive system? If it’s so important for children to believe in them, why don’t the Guardians make a public appearance as soon as they hear of Pitch’s threat?[1]The idea that what they need is for kids to believe in them without proof is appealing but the story ends up contradicting it. And if the Guardians lose their powers if everyone stops believing in them, wouldn’t Jack be more of an asset if he didn’t become a Guardian and therefore didn’t share their weakness?

OK, enough nitpicking. On to more serious critique.

When you go into a Dreamworks movie featuring Santa Claus as a muscular, hard bitten, saber wielding warrior with a thick Russian accent and the Easter Bunny as a muscular, hard bitten, boomerang wielding warrior with a thick Australian accent, you go in with certain expectations, mainly the expectation that this will be a comedy.[2]Not necessarily a good comedy, mind you, but a comedy. But Rise of the Guardians weirdly plays its goofy premise as a straight fantasy adventure. The prologue, in which Jack Frost comes to life with no memory of his origins or identity and finds he’s invisible to everyone, could have come from a drama and when we finally do learn about Jack’s origins, they’re shockingly dark and come with the implication that the other Guardians had dark origin stories too. The movie does display a sense of humor more frequently than the books by William Joyce which also had this strange disconnect between premise and tone, but no more frequently than your average drama with comic relief. Honestly, I’m not even sure at what audience this film is aimed. I feel like kids young enough to really believe in Santa Claus, etc., aren’t ready for this kind of action-adventure and kids old enough for it wouldn’t be caught dead going to see a movie about Santa Claus, etc. Rise of the Guardians feels like a kids’ movie but the theme of protecting childhood innocence seems like something that would only resonate with adults.[3]That’s probably why the movie is titled Rise of the Guardians even though The Guardians of Childhood would have fit the content better. Yet in the end, the movie actually achieves the mythic power for which Joyce strove in his book series and which, in my opinion, he largely failed to attain.[4]I really only read the whole thing because I wanted to be able to compare it to the movie on this blog.

The film’s premise may be wacky, but its narrative is formulaic. (This paragraph is naturally going to spoil much of it, but I feel like you can predict most of this.) An antihero gets asked to join a group of heroes. The antihero refuses. Then the villain does something terrible, establishing himself as a serious threat and giving the antihero a selfish motivation to help the heroes. The antihero bonds with the heroes and becomes more genuinely heroic. But the antihero messes up[5]Remember that selfish motivation I mentioned? with major consequences and the heroes decide they Never Should Have Trusted Him. The villain approaches the antihero and offers to let him join him, saying They’re Not So Different. The antihero refuses. Then the antihero has a big revelation and saves the day. To be fair, that’s not a bad structure for a story. I don’t feel that Rise of the Guardians does anything too interesting with it until the last act though.

The movie’s visuals are basically fine. Dreamworks, at this point, had enough money and was lavish enough when it came to throwing it around that this was never going to look that bad. It doesn’t look as beautiful as might be wished though. The various domains of each Guardian just aren’t as magical or appealing as they should be.

Santa’s workshop
The Tooth Fairy’s palace
The Easter Bunny’s warren

And the character designs all fall somewhere between bland and vaguely ugly.

The most fun part of the movie visually is the character of the Sandman who communicates entirely through images made of floating sand that hover above his head.

Alec Baldwin and Hugh Jackman make little impression as the voices of Santa Claus[6]He’s mostly just called North which made more sense in the books. and the Easter Bunny. In all fairness though, the script by playwright David Lindsay-Abaire doesn’t give them much interesting with which to work. Isla Fisher is a bit more fun as the Tooth Fairy but that may be just because she gets most of the movie’s better jokes. Chris Pine’s performance as Jack is a mixed bag. Sometimes he’s great, especially towards the end. At other times, he just sounds bored and mumbly. He also sounds far too old for this youthful character.[7]I feel the same way about Jay Baruchel as the voice of the lead in the original How to Train Your Dragon. The best vocal performance is that of Jude Law as Pitch Black who makes for a good cartoon villain. If the movie were just a little better at creating a creepy atmosphere, he’d be a great one. His character design being vaguely ugly even makes sense for the character.

There are some clever touches like Jack Frost having an antagonistic relationship with the Easter Bunny, a figure associated with springtime, but despite holding the world record for being on the naughty list, having a good relationship with Santa, another winter-related character. I also like that the movie has Jack apologize for insulting the Bunny as part of his character development when I probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t. And the surprising decision to make the Man in the Moon an invisible, Godlike presence rather than characterizing him like the other mythical figures works well.

So far, I’ve made the movie sound middling. Why did I feel like writing about it after all these years then? What makes it interesting besides the oddly serious execution of a goofy premise? Well, as I’ve indicated above, I feel the conclusion really elevates what came before, tying together the movie’s themes of finding one’s purpose in life, facing childhood fears and the importance of childlike faith in an emotionally resonant way. But to explain all that, I’d have to spoil the whole thing for those who haven’t watched the movie. On the other hand, if I don’t explain it, I risk overhyping it. People might very well read this blog post[8]OK, not super likely., become curious, go watch the movie and then wonder what on earth I meant. The following paragraph is my attempt at a compromise, both getting into some specifics and keeping the description broad. If you’d really like to see the movie unspoiled, just skip it.

Pitch’s goal throughout the story is to get children everywhere to believe in and therefore fear him. An unspoken question is what are the Guardians supposed to do about that? Should they try to make kids believe Pitch doesn’t exist when he obviously does? It turns out that the way to defeat the Boogeyman isn’t so much to disbelieve in him as it is to not fear him. That’s where Jack comes into the picture. Another question in the movie, this one spoken, is how is he supposed to be one of the Guardians when they reward the nice and punish the naughty whereas he shuts down schools and encourages kids to throw snowballs at each other? It turns out mischief is useful for helping children overcome fear. I am reminded of The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis. The book’s narrator confides that, as a demon, it’s his job to tempt humans with fun but he doesn’t really like it, saying, “(fun) has wholly undesirable tendencies. It promotes charity, courage, contentment and many other evils.” I lied when I called Jude Law’s vocal performance the best in the movie. That honor really goes to Dakota Goyo as the young boy with whom Jack bonds in the film’s last act.[9]This footnote is really going to give away something specific, especially if you’ve been paying attention but I feel compelled to include it anyway. I especially like that when Jack finally … Continue reading

All that plays out beautifully and it’s why I’m fond of Rise of the Guardians. Great conclusions don’t always save so-so works of art in my experience, especially not when they don’t connect much to do with what precedes them. But the climax and ending of Rise of the Guardians, again, satisfyingly ties together themes the story has already established, elevating what came before in retrospect. And honestly, while I’ve ragged on this aspect of the movie, there’s something endearingly quixotic about its insistence that belief in the Easter Bunny is vital to a child’s mental well-being.

References

References
↑1 The idea that what they need is for kids to believe in them without proof is appealing but the story ends up contradicting it.
↑2 Not necessarily a good comedy, mind you, but a comedy.
↑3 That’s probably why the movie is titled Rise of the Guardians even though The Guardians of Childhood would have fit the content better.
↑4 I really only read the whole thing because I wanted to be able to compare it to the movie on this blog.
↑5 Remember that selfish motivation I mentioned?
↑6 He’s mostly just called North which made more sense in the books.
↑7 I feel the same way about Jay Baruchel as the voice of the lead in the original How to Train Your Dragon.
↑8 OK, not super likely.
↑9 This footnote is really going to give away something specific, especially if you’ve been paying attention but I feel compelled to include it anyway. I especially like that when Jack finally gets someone to believe in him, he’s not trying to do so. Instead, he’s trying to help another Guardian and his least favorite one at that.
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The Second Adaptees Awards Ceremony

Posted on April 16, 2025 by stationmaster

Remember when I did that anniversary post that was like an awards ceremony for characterizations in all the movies/miniseries/plays the blog had covered thus far? Wasn’t that fun? Well, I thought it was fun, and since I probably won’t do the blog that much longer, I wanted to do it again. Let’s go over some rules.

This is just for things the blog has covered since the first ceremony. Otherwise, a number of winners would be the same and that’d be boring. Also, this is only for actors/characters from things that have been the main subjects of blog posts, not ones I just mentioned in passing. For example, I’ve mentioned that I love Fiddler on the Roof (1971) and Sleeping Beauty (1959), but I haven’t done any posts specifically analyzing either of them. That’s why neither is represented here.

I’m excluding any actors/characters from the Faerie Tale Theatre episodes I’ve reviewed for the same reason I excluded any from The Storyteller last time. However, since I’ve now reviewed feature-length Peanuts cartoons, characters from them are finally eligible.

This was harder than the first Adaptees because there were more characters who fit into multiple categories. For example, Cyrano de Bergerac could easily have won in the antihero category and in the woobie category.[1]I ultimately put him in neither. I decided that each fictional figure could only win in one category even if it’s an oversimplification of them. There is one exception I made which I’ll explain in a footnote when I get to it.

I deregistered the best female woobie category since I just haven’t blogged about many such characters since the last Adaptees[2]The only ones I could come up with were Amanda Ryan’s Agnes Wickfield and Michelle Stacy’s Penny. and I came close to doing the same for tragic (male) villains for the same reason.[3]Willoughby from Sense and Sensibility is a pretty great character but the only adaptation this blog has covered in depth fumbled his characterization. On the other hand, I’ve also added a new category solely so that I could include more great character portrayals, and I’ve expanded the possible number of runners up from two to three for the same reason.

With no further ado…

Best Purely Heroic Heroes: Vincent Martella’s Phineas Flynn and Thomas Brodie-Sangster’s Ferb Fletcher[4]I know it’s cheating to give the award to both, but neither character would work as well without the other and it’s in their characters to want to share it.

“Thank you, thank you, everyone! I just have to say I’m a lucky guy!” “Actually, what I’d love to do is direct.”

Runners Up: Dee Bradley Baker’s Perry the Platypus, Ben Barnes’s Caspian X[5]You could argue this character isn’t quite pure enough for the role, but I did give the award to a version of Nicholas Nickleby last time in spite of his faults. Of course, there’s a good … Continue reading

Best Antihero: Anthony Calf’s Pip

“For God’s sake, don’t be so good to me!”

Runners Up: Jeremy Irvine’s Pip, Will Poulter’s Eustace Scrubb

Best Hero That’s Hard to Classify: Peter Dinklage’s Cyrano de Bergerac

“Live for other people’s opinions of me? No, thank you. I prefer a different life. My own.”

Runners Up: Dev Patel’s David Copperfield, Skandar Keynes’s Edmund Pevensie[6]In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, he was an antihero but in Prince Caspian, he’s more purely heroic, so I thought this was the best category for him. I freely admit the writing and … Continue reading

Best Purely Heroic Heroine: Susan Franklyn’s Biddy[7]I know, I know, she’s more of a supporting character but I prefer the character so much to any of the candidates who really are the heroines that I had to give her the award.

“You’d get on very well (without me), I’m sure.”

Runners Up: Rosalind Eleazer’s Agnes Wickfield, Georgie Henley’s Lucy Pevensie[8]See my comments about Caspian arguably not being pure enough for this category and about Edmund not being as great in the third Narnia movie as in the first two.

Best Antiheroine: Kim Thomson’s Estella

“I must be taken as I have been made.”

Runner Up: Ashley Tisdale’s Candace Flynn, Beatrice Schneider’s Imogene Herdman

Best Heroine That’s Hard to Classify: Anna Popplewell’s Susan Pevensie

“Thanks.”

Runners Up: Joanna Page’s Dora Spenlow[9]I’m more of a fan of the literary character of Dora than I am of the literary character of Susan. But in the miniseries, Dora isn’t quite as rounded as in the book, I wanted someone from … Continue reading, Judy Greer’s Grace Bradley

Best Villain You Love to Hate: Nicholas Lyndhurst’s Uriah Heep[10]Roland Young’s Uriah Heep is more what I imagine reading the book and Ben Whishaw’s has a nice layer of tragedy. But this Uriah gives me the most creeps.

“Oh no… ambition ain’t for me. A person like myself had better not aspire.”

Runners Up: Trevor Eve’s Edward Murdstone, Sergio Castellitto’s Miraz, Damian Alcazar’s Sopespian

Best Tragic Villain: Oliver Milburn’s James Steerforth

“You see right through me…”

Runners Up: Chris Pine’s Prince, Dan Povenmire’s Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz[11]OK, I know he’s far too ridiculous to count as a tragic villain and, anyway, he gets a happy ending eventually. But he really is kind of tragic in his farcical way.

Best Villainess You Love to Hate: Bernadette Peters’s Stepmother[12]By which I mean Cinderella’s stepmother as portrayed by Bernadette Peters.

“Our family has always been known for its fascinating women.”

Runners Up: Zoe Wanamaker’s Jane Murdstone, Tilda Swinton’s White Witch, Jean Marsh’s Mombi

Best Tragic Villainess: Jean Simmons’s Miss Havisham

“Can you believe that there’s anything human in my heart?”

Runners Up: Helena Bonham Carter’s Miss Havisham, Cherie Lunghi’s Mrs. Steerforth, Clare Holman’s Rosa Dartle

Best Woobie (Male or Female): Pete Robbins’s Charlie Brown

“This whole thing makes me feel like I’m being drafted!”

Runners Up: Daniel Radcliffe’s David Copperfield[13]Here’s that exception. I’m placing a version of the character as a child in the woobie category because his character basically exists for us to feel sorry for him and a version of him as … Continue reading Noah Schnapp’s Charlie Brown

Best Mentor Figure (Male or Female): Maggie Smith’s Betsey Trotwood

“Never be mean in anything. Never be false. Never be cruel…It’s just a little dust in my eye. It’s nothing, it’s nothing!”

Runners Up: Annette Crosbie’s Fairy Godmother[14]By which I mean Cinderella’s fairy godmother as portrayed…oh, you know., Edie Adams’s Fairy Godmother

Best Comedic Supporting Character (Male): Bill Melendez’s Snoopy

“Hey!”

Runners Up: Bob Hoskins’s Wilkins Micawber, Glenn Gilger’s Linus Van Pelt, Hugh Laurie’s Mr. Dick

Best Comedic Supporting Character (Female): Imelda Staunton’s Emma Micawber

“I never will desert Mr. Micawber!”

Runners Up: Dawn French’s Mrs. Crupp[15]Part of me wants to give her the award since she’s funnier than Mrs. Micawber but Mrs. Micawber is more developed and interesting as a character., Carole Shelley’s Lady Kluck

Best Heroic Supporting Character (Male or Female): John Rhys-Davies’s Joe Gargery

“Astonishing! This is very liberal of you, Pip, old chap, and such is received in grateful welcome though never looked for!”

Runners Up: James Thorton’s Ham Peggotty, Alun Armstrong’s Daniel Peggotty, Ken Stott’s Trufflehunter

Well, in the immortal words of Porky Pig, “That’s all, folks!” Hope you enjoyed the ceremony. Sorry you’ll have to throw your own afterparty.

References

References
↑1 I ultimately put him in neither.
↑2 The only ones I could come up with were Amanda Ryan’s Agnes Wickfield and Michelle Stacy’s Penny.
↑3 Willoughby from Sense and Sensibility is a pretty great character but the only adaptation this blog has covered in depth fumbled his characterization.
↑4 I know it’s cheating to give the award to both, but neither character would work as well without the other and it’s in their characters to want to share it.
↑5 You could argue this character isn’t quite pure enough for the role, but I did give the award to a version of Nicholas Nickleby last time in spite of his faults. Of course, there’s a good argument to be made that Caspian’s dark side is presented as a serious issue in the way Nicholas’s is not but I really wanted to include him and it’s my blog.
↑6 In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, he was an antihero but in Prince Caspian, he’s more purely heroic, so I thought this was the best category for him. I freely admit the writing and Keynes’s performance weren’t nearly as great in the third Narnia movie. But they were great enough in the first two that I had to give Edmund a mention.
↑7 I know, I know, she’s more of a supporting character but I prefer the character so much to any of the candidates who really are the heroines that I had to give her the award.
↑8 See my comments about Caspian arguably not being pure enough for this category and about Edmund not being as great in the third Narnia movie as in the first two.
↑9 I’m more of a fan of the literary character of Dora than I am of the literary character of Susan. But in the miniseries, Dora isn’t quite as rounded as in the book, I wanted someone from the Narnia movies to win something, and Susan is arguably one of the most consistently well written characters in them. Also, I was attracted to Anna Popplewell as a kid.
↑10 Roland Young’s Uriah Heep is more what I imagine reading the book and Ben Whishaw’s has a nice layer of tragedy. But this Uriah gives me the most creeps.
↑11 OK, I know he’s far too ridiculous to count as a tragic villain and, anyway, he gets a happy ending eventually. But he really is kind of tragic in his farcical way.
↑12 By which I mean Cinderella’s stepmother as portrayed by Bernadette Peters.
↑13 Here’s that exception. I’m placing a version of the character as a child in the woobie category because his character basically exists for us to feel sorry for him and a version of him as an adult in another category since he’s more complex.
↑14 By which I mean Cinderella’s fairy godmother as portrayed…oh, you know.
↑15 Part of me wants to give her the award since she’s funnier than Mrs. Micawber but Mrs. Micawber is more developed and interesting as a character.
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Protected: My Thoughts on the Controversy Around Netflix’s Upcoming Narnia Movie

Posted on April 9, 2025 by stationmaster

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Sense and Adaptability

Posted on March 14, 2025 by stationmaster

Was I overly harsh when I called screenwriter Andrew Davies’s 2008 miniseries adaptation of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility “so-so?”

I admit it. I gave into the allure of alliteration, and I was trying to contrast it with his 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries, which is one of the best adapted Jane Austen adaptations out there. It’s not a huge favorite of mine since Pride and Prejudice isn’t my favorite Austen book and even if it were, Austen isn’t really my favorite author. But the writing really does a great job of replicating her style while still feeling like a TV series. The writing for Davies’s Sense and Sensibility doesn’t capture its source material anywhere near as well. In fact, I wouldn’t even say it does as good a job on that score as his Emma adaptation.[1]Though I should stress I feel Sense and Sensibility (2008) works much better as piece of entertainment. I doubt I’d ever have guessed they were written by the same person. But there’s a difference between not being as well written and faithful as the 1995 Pride and Prejudice and not being well written or faithful at all.

Sense and Sensibility is about the Dashwood sisters, Elinor and Marianne.[2]There’s also a third sister, Margaret (played by Lucy Boynton in the 2008 miniseries), but she’s not important. While the story is unquestionably romance-driven, it focuses on the relationship between those two gentlewomen to an unusual extent for Austen.[3]That’s not to say Jane Austen never wrote about relationships between women. Far from it. She just usually focused more on relationships between men and women. While the sisters are loyal and devoted to each other, they also frequently rag on each other’s different sensibilities. Swoony Marianne believes people should be ruled by emotion whereas practical Elinor believes emotions should be ruled by reason and morality. And the book champions Elinor’s philosophy over Marianne’s. That was not a universally accepted position back when it was first written[4]Austen lived during the Romantic era and the emotionalism of Victorian culture was on the horizon. and it’s become even less popular nowadays. Marianne begins the story believing that “to aim at the restraint of sentiments” to be “not merely an unnecessary effort but a disgraceful subjection of reason to commonplace and mistaken notions.” Modern therapy culture, which has been on the rise in the 2020s, goes even further, considering the suppression of emotions to be downright unhealthy. The average Disney or Pixar movie (cf. Frozen, Inside Out, Encanto, Turning Red) all but states that telling children to hide their feelings for the sake of the family-the very thing for which Sense and Sensibility heroizes Elinor and condemns Marianne for failing to do-as the worst thing a parent can do.[5]In fairness, most, if not all of those movies, also show unrestrained emotions, such as anger, having negative consequences. But few, if any of them, really seem to want viewers to notice that. It may sound strange, even silly, to cite children’s movies in this context. Wouldn’t it make more sense to contrast Sense and Sensibility with the latest romance novel? But I feel like citing children’s media shows just how early people these days are ingesting the suppressing-feelings-is-bad message. These are very earnest children’s movies. It’s not like telling kids to believe in Santa Claus.

Commentators are quick to assure us that Elinor and Marianne are really portrayed as having individual strengths and weaknesses and that what Austen is really advocating is a happy medium between sense and sensibility.[6]In her culture “sensibility” meant something like sensitivity. It’s a good thing she wasn’t writing today because Sense and Sensitivity would be a horrible title. There’s some truth in this[7]As the book nears its conclusion, we get more moments where Elinor visibly betrays her emotions, and they aren’t moments where we’re meant to dislike her. but it’s very different from the impression one gets from actually reading the book. The clear, overall message is “don’t be a Marianne; be an Elinor” and while it’s not always the main theme, this is also the overarching philosophy of Jane Austen’s oeuvre.[8]Persuasion, her last completed novel and probably her “girliest,” is something of an exception. The heroine’s biggest regret at the beginning is that she didn’t take a … Continue reading Honestly, that’s why I think it’s important in this age of self-expression for us to read Sense and Sensibility. It’s telling us something we don’t want or expect to hear. Another recurring theme in Austen is that the people who tell us those things are the one who helps us grow the most.[9]The book A Jane Austen Education: How Six Novels Taught Me About Love, Friendship and the Things That Really Matter by William Deresiewicz comes highly recommended in this context. It recently occurred to me that Neil Postman’s comments on George Orwell vs. Aldous Huxley apply to Charles Dickens vs. Jane Austen. To use his phrasing, Dickens feared that what we fear will ruin us whereas Austen feared that what we desire will ruin us. I’m a much more enthusiastic fan of Dickens than I am of Austen, but I feel like her message is more what the modern world needs right now.

Of course, I’m one to talk! While I might admire Elinor in theory, in practice, I’m a Marianne. Anyway, let’s get going.

Ironically, just as the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie had to compete with Davies’s acclaimed miniseries adaptation for the minds and hearts of fans, his Sense and Sensibility had to compete with the acclaimed 1995 movie adaptation. I actually read Emma Thompson’s academy award winning screenplay online before I either saw the film or read the book. I adored it, only to be rather disappointed by my first viewing of the movie itself. I don’t know if it was a problem with the sound mixing or the actors’ performances, but I found I had to constantly strain my ears to hear the dialogue and when you have to strain to hear jokes, they aren’t very funny-which is a real shame because they’re great on paper. Take this exchange between Marianne, her mother and Elinor over the dashing young man they’ve just met.

Marianne: He expressed himself well, did he not?
Mrs. Dashwood: With great decorum and honor.
Marianne: And spirit and wit and feeling.
Elinor: And economy-ten words at most.

But you’d never know from watching it that the movie is supposed to be a comedy. The quiet line deliveries of the main actors combined with the lack of music for much of the movie’s first half make it a struggle for me to follow or get invested in the story.[10]Of course, you could argue that keeping music to a minimum fits the message of “be less emotional.” I probably sound like Marianne with these criticisms. I know Ang Lee is a highly acclaimed director, and the movie is beloved. I wish I loved it too and I’ve tried to do so more than once. But I always find it a tastefully shot boor.

While the writing for the 2008 miniseries isn’t nearly as quotable, at least I don’t have to turn the volume up to the maximum level to understand it. And while film snobs doubtless find John Alexander’s directing inferior to Ang Lee’s, I find it much more engaging to watch. And while there are few actresses whom I consider more charismatic than Emma Thompson, who besides writing the 1995 screenplay also played Elinor, Hattie Morahan looks far closer to the heroine’s age, making her emotional maturity more impressive. Charity Wakefield is likewise a good Marianne.

Dan Stevens and David Morrisey are appealing as the heroines’ respective love interests

and Mark Gatiss, Claire Skinner and Anna Madeley shine as the hissable villains. Sense and Sensibility boasts some of the best of those character types that Austen ever created.[11]The most interesting of them is the Dashwood sisters’ greedy half-brother, John, since he’s the only one who regularly shows glimmers of a conscience.

There’s only one actor here who’s really miscast but I’ll get to him later since he’s the biggest problem with this miniseries.

As I mentioned, this adaptation doesn’t do the best job of making its original dialogue blend with Austen’s. In the first episode, Elinor’s love interest, Edward Ferrars, describes himself as “a ship without an anchor” after his father’s death, which sounds too poetic for an Austen character. (I also suspect the literary Marianne would condemn it for being “a commonplace phrase.”) Weirder is a line in the third episode comparing Marianne to a wild horse who needs to be tamed by her true love, Col. Brandon. Not only does that not sound like something Jane Austen would have written, isn’t it rather offensive to modern sensibilities? To its credit, the series takes plenty of its dialogue from the book though it doesn’t choose the funniest lines. This is probably the least funny of Andrew Davies’s Jane Austen adaptations.[12]His Emma just manages to be funnier in my opinion. That’s disappointing considering how hilarious the book’s biting sarcasm was. In particular, the various annoying social butterflies that plague the Dashwoods with their friendliness, such as Sir John Middleton (Mark Williams), Mrs. Jennings (Linda Bassett) and Mrs. Palmer (Tabitha Wady), aren’t nearly as entertaining as they are in the book or the 1995 movie. This is especially disappointing to me since as an introvert, I appreciate Austen’s skewering of annoyingly friendly people.

Lest that sound too contemptuous, one of the heartwarming things about the literary Sense and Sensibility was how the annoyingly friendly characters genuinely cared about the Dashwoods and rallied around them during the crises of the climax.[13]As did the bitterly caustic Mr. Palmer (Tim McMullan in the miniseries.) Except for Mrs. Jennings, we sadly don’t see any of that in this adaptation and even with her, we don’t see it much. I wish the miniseries had spent less of its time on montages of the main characters’ daily lives and more time developing the supporting cast. As it is, I’m ready for the series to be done well before the last episode is over. To be fair though, I also feel that the original book could have stood to be shorter, so I guess that’s just accurate adaptation. Still, I’d say the series could have made better use of its runtime than it does.

On the plus side, this adaptation includes the memorable characters of Edward Ferrars’s tyrannical mother (Jean Marsh) and the ditzy Anne Steele (entertaining Daisy Haggard), both of whom were cut from the 1995 film.[14]Technically, Mrs. Ferrars still existed but we never saw her onscreen.

There’s some beautiful scenery in this miniseries once the Dashwoods move to the seaside.

It also does a good job of making Marianne’s eyebrow raising actions, which don’t seem all that scandalous to us nowadays, like letting her suitor have a lock of her hair or being alone with him in his house, come across as sexy.[15]Well, the hair thing might still seem sexy to us if anyone ever did it anymore.

This brings us to that big casting blunder to which I darkly alluded earlier. Dominic Cooper is simply not appealing as Marianne’s romantic false lead, Mr. Willoughby. He doesn’t come across as a charming hero who turns out to be a villain. He comes across as, well, a villain. Mind you, it’s not super hard to guess his role in the original book which is why I’m not apologizing for spoiling it here. Nearly every Jane Austen book has a male character who seems like the perfect match for the heroine but who ends up being an antagonist to some extent.[16]A few of her books also have female characters like this. By contrast, another man, like Col. Brandon, will initially seem like a bad match for her but prove to be the real love interest in the end. Even ignoring that, Willoughby seems just too good to be true at the beginning of the story. He seems so perfect for the high maintenance Marianne and is introduced so early that the very structure of the story leads us to wait for the other shoe to drop. Still, even if we can easily guess he’ll be a villain, we should still be able to understand the other characters-even Elinor to an extent-being charmed by him.

Is this the face of a man who can be trusted?

This isn’t just a problem with the actor. The writing also spends too much time telegraphing that Willoughby is no good. The very first scene of the miniseries, before the opening credits, shows him seducing a vulnerable young woman (Caroline Hayes) as ominous music plays.[17]A snarky fan on the internet once described the opening thus. “SEX!!! And now a Jane Austen novel.” Since we never see his face in the scene, it’s likely we’re not supposed to guess his identity but it’s also likely that we do anyway. (We do hear his voice.) Ominous music also plays when Col. Brandon, whom we’ve already established as a sympathetic character, meets Willoughby at the end of the first episode. The colonel abruptly leaves. “How extraordinary,” says the girls’ mother (Janet McTeer.) “He’s an extraordinary man,” says Willoughby, a little too casually. This is the episode’s cliffhanger, so the series clearly expects us to find it dramatic. It’s also clear from the music that we’re not just supposed to pity Brandon, who now has a rival for Marianne and didn’t have much hope even before that, but to be suspicious of Willoughby. Towards the beginning of the next episode, Brandon takes him aside and asks him about his intentions towards Marianne. Willoughby responds by taunting him. It’s true that Willoughby mocked Brandon in the book, as did Marianne under his influence, and this was a bad sign. But there they mocked him behind his back and their mockery was witty, not just petty or childish. While the scene that is Willoughby’s final bid for sympathy in the last episode takes much of its dialogue from the book, Elinor is never tempted, as she is there and as Austen herself may have been tempted, to pity him despite her better judgement. It’s true that he probably doesn’t deserve pity but if nobody is even tempted to give it to him, what’s the point of including the scene?

Notwithstanding that major problem, this retelling of Sense and Sensibility works albeit not brilliantly. I was probably wrong to call it so-so. It’s more like…OK-ish. While this is hardly the best written of Andrew Davies’s adaptations of classic literature, it’s hardly the worst either.[18]Or if it is, that reflects well on him. I like Marianne’s insight in the final episode that Willoughby deceived not only her and her family but even himself. And while her summary of the story’s seemingly antiromantic message may have undertones of being embarrassed by it and wanting to explain it away, it’s also an accurate summary and I like it too.

It is not what we say or feel that makes us what we are. It is what we do. Or fail to do.

References

References
↑1 Though I should stress I feel Sense and Sensibility (2008) works much better as piece of entertainment.
↑2 There’s also a third sister, Margaret (played by Lucy Boynton in the 2008 miniseries), but she’s not important.
↑3 That’s not to say Jane Austen never wrote about relationships between women. Far from it. She just usually focused more on relationships between men and women.
↑4 Austen lived during the Romantic era and the emotionalism of Victorian culture was on the horizon.
↑5 In fairness, most, if not all of those movies, also show unrestrained emotions, such as anger, having negative consequences. But few, if any of them, really seem to want viewers to notice that.
↑6 In her culture “sensibility” meant something like sensitivity. It’s a good thing she wasn’t writing today because Sense and Sensitivity would be a horrible title.
↑7 As the book nears its conclusion, we get more moments where Elinor visibly betrays her emotions, and they aren’t moments where we’re meant to dislike her.
↑8 Persuasion, her last completed novel and probably her “girliest,” is something of an exception. The heroine’s biggest regret at the beginning is that she didn’t take a romantic risk in her youth and a sign that the romantic false lead is a phony is that he never shows “any burst of feeling and warmth of indignation or delight at the good or evil of others.” Even in Persuasion though, Austen gives the heroine a foil whose impetuosity and risk taking gets her in trouble. And while the book concludes with the “bad morality” that “When any two young people take it into their heads to marry, they are pretty sure by perseverance to carry their point, be they ever so poor or ever so imprudent or ever so little likely to be necessary to each other’s comfort,” it stresses that with its romantic leads, that was far from the case.
↑9 The book A Jane Austen Education: How Six Novels Taught Me About Love, Friendship and the Things That Really Matter by William Deresiewicz comes highly recommended in this context.
↑10 Of course, you could argue that keeping music to a minimum fits the message of “be less emotional.” I probably sound like Marianne with these criticisms.
↑11 The most interesting of them is the Dashwood sisters’ greedy half-brother, John, since he’s the only one who regularly shows glimmers of a conscience.
↑12 His Emma just manages to be funnier in my opinion.
↑13 As did the bitterly caustic Mr. Palmer (Tim McMullan in the miniseries.)
↑14 Technically, Mrs. Ferrars still existed but we never saw her onscreen.
↑15 Well, the hair thing might still seem sexy to us if anyone ever did it anymore.
↑16 A few of her books also have female characters like this.
↑17 A snarky fan on the internet once described the opening thus. “SEX!!! And now a Jane Austen novel.”
↑18 Or if it is, that reflects well on him.
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This Special Is a Mixed Bag, Charlie Brown

Posted on March 8, 2025 by stationmaster

The 2011 animated special Happiness Is a Warm Blanket, Charlie Brown came at a strange crossroads in the history of the Peanuts franchise. It was made neither by Mendelson/Melendez productions nor by Apple TV but by Warner Bros television. Despite the lengths to which it goes to recreate the feel of classic Peanuts, there’s nothing quite like it.

There’s also a lot to love about the thing, starting with the premise. Linus Van Pelt’s blanket-hating grandmother will be visiting his family in a week and if he hasn’t given up his beloved “security blanket” by then, she’s threatened to make him give it up. This allows directors Andy Beall and Frank Molieri and writers Stephan Pastis (Pearls Before Swine) and Craig Schulz (The Peanuts Movie) to adapt some of the most memorable storylines from the comic strip about Linus either trying to kick his blanket habit or someone else forcibly taking it from him. I’m delighted by this since Linus’s relationship with his blanket has long been one of my favorite running gags in Peanuts, but it had never been the main subject of a special before this.[1]I’d be remiss though not to mention that two of the storylines here were previously adapted in a segment of the episodic 1983 special It’s an Adventure, Charlie Brown. While that was very … Continue reading I am disappointed that Linus agreeing to give up his blanket if Grandma gave up smoking isn’t included here but I can see it wouldn’t have fit in with this special’s story.

Happiness Is a Warm Blanket was clearly made by ardent Peanuts fans. At one point, it even recreates the very first comic as part of a flashback montage. In another scene, Charlie Brown can be seen eating snicker snacks, his favorite cereal at one point in the comic’s history. Now that’s something hardly anyone would know!

Mark Mothersbaugh’s music does a great job of evoking Vince Guaraldi’s compositions for the classic Peanuts specials while still doing its own thing on occasion to good effect. The character designs are unusual in that they specifically evoke the look of the strip in the later 50s and early 60s. (The choices of which characters to use reflects this as well.) You see, the visual style of Peanuts evolved over time. Back when the comic strip was still running, the characters in the movies and specials would always be designed to look the way they currently did in the newspapers. After Peanuts creator Charles Schulz’s death, they would either look the way they did in the 90s or like the most recognizable versions of themselves. The specifically 50s-vibe of Happiness Is a Warm Blanket stands out and not in a bad way.

Unfortunately, the creators’ goal of having the child voice actors sound like the ones from the oldest Peanuts specials doesn’t work as well. The monotone line readings that sounded charmingly amateurish when coming from, well, amateurs just sound flat when they’re being imitated by actors who would probably have done better if they’d been allowed to make the characters their own. Trenton Rogers, who voices both Charlie Brown and Schroeder, particularly feels like a soulless carbon copy of their original voices. And it’s unfortunate that Grace Rolek is one of the least memorable Lucies, given that the character has a major role as antagonist in this special. The best vocal performance is easily that of Austin Lux as Linus, which is fortunate since he’s the protagonist and has a lot of dramatic lines to deliver. The second-best vocal performance is Amanda Pace’s adorable turn as Sally.

Despite its pains to evoke the oldest Peanuts specials, Happiness Is a Warm Blanket regularly employs camera angles that wouldn’t have been used in them. I don’t have a problem with this in theory. I’ve enjoyed seeing Peanuts animation be visually ambitious in the past. But what with the aggressively retro approach of every other aspect of this special, I find it odd and distracting.

While nearly all of the special’s jokes come from the comic strip, it often fiddles with them and expands on them, usually so that it can include more characters. Sometimes this works well, as in the aforementioned flashback montage, but other times it just ruins the comic timing. The worst example of this is how it adapts the hilarious comic where Charlie Brown manages to keep a kite in the air without it crashing or getting tangled up in anything, only for it to explode as if the laws of physics refused to let him fly a kite. In Happiness Is a Warm Blanket, Charlie Brown flying the kite is in the background during a conversation between Linus and Lucy rather than being the focus of the scene. This makes the punchline more confusing than funny.

This is going to sound odd coming from me since I’ve praised the slow pacing of old Peanuts movies in the past but this special feels a bit too slow. There are a lot of scenes with the supporting Peanuts characters that-on a first viewing-don’t seem to connect to the story of Linus and his blanket at all and-on a first viewing-come across as padding. Presumably, Stephan Pastis knew this was the only Peanuts special he was going to make and wanted to include his favorite characters but the choice of comics to adapt isn’t the best. Some of them like Lucy destroying Schroeder’s bust of Beethoven only for him to reveal he has a whole closetful of them, are ones that have appeared in previous Peanuts specials.

I will say this special does it with a flair that’s never been done before.

But that’s on the first viewing. In the end, all the seemingly irrelevant comedic business pays off as Linus gives a big speech defending his blanket addiction in one of the best dramatic moments in the history of Peanuts animation. Its greatness is especially notable in that it’s one of the few moments in this special that is entirely original and not just taking what Charles Schulz wrote/drew and giving it a little twist. Yet it feels as if it could have been written by him. That’s what I appreciate about Happiness Is a Warm Blanket now more than when it was first released. For all its flaws, you can tell the creators are trying to capture the spirit of Peanuts even as they do a bit of their own thing. By contrast, the modern Peanuts specials produced by Apple TV may have their gentle charms, but they seldom feel like Peanuts.[2]To understand what I mean, compare the classic special It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown to the recent It’s the Small Things, Charlie Brown, which has a very similar premise but is infinitely … Continue reading

(My spoiler-averse readers should probably bail out now.) In the end, this special even finds a way to have Lucy come to terms with Linus’s blanket without flying in the face of her character. There’s no way to actually write dialogue for her saying she accepts the blanket, which is what Apple TV or The Peanuts Movie would do, without sounding wrong.[3]Even in the heartwarming A Charlie Brown Christmas, the nicest thing she says is “Charlie Brown is a blockhead but he did get a nice tree.” Happiness Is a Blanket has her show her support with the slightest of facial expressions. It’s an understated moment but a beautiful one in context.

References

References
↑1 I’d be remiss though not to mention that two of the storylines here were previously adapted in a segment of the episodic 1983 special It’s an Adventure, Charlie Brown. While that was very far from being the greatest piece of Peanuts animation, it did add a gloss to how Linus’s blanket is returned to him after one separation which was a great stand-up-and-cheer moment.
↑2 To understand what I mean, compare the classic special It’s Arbor Day, Charlie Brown to the recent It’s the Small Things, Charlie Brown, which has a very similar premise but is infinitely more touchy-feely and less funny.
↑3 Even in the heartwarming A Charlie Brown Christmas, the nicest thing she says is “Charlie Brown is a blockhead but he did get a nice tree.”
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Ranting About Cyrano (2021)

Posted on February 14, 2025 by stationmaster

Cyrano (2021) is a movie adaptation of a 2018 stage musical which was itself based on Edmond Rostand’s 1897 tragic comedy-or comic tragedy-Cyrano de Bergerac. I’d better state upfront that this is going to be one of those blog posts where I can’t explain my opinions about the adaptation without giving away practically the entire plot of the original story, so anyone unfamiliar with Rostand’s masterpiece should really stop reading right now and go experience it first. I recommend the 1950 English-language movie starring Jose Ferrer, which was my introduction to the play.[1]Actually, my introduction was an episode of Wishbone, but I’d forgotten about that by the time I saw the 1950 movie. If you’d prefer to experience it in the original language, there’s the 1990 film starring Gerard Depardieu. Or you could always just read Edmond Rostand’s script itself. If, like me, you don’t speak French, the best English translation I’ve found is the one by Brian Hooker. Mind you, I can’t say if it’s the most accurate but if it’s not, it must have improved upon what it was translating.

You’ll notice I haven’t recommended watching Cyrano (2021) itself as an introduction to this story.

Yep. This is going to be one of those posts.

Cyrano starts by annoying me right off the bat. The scene is Paris circa 1640. The beautiful Roxanne (Haley Bennet) is getting ready to attend the theater with the villainous Duke de Guiche (Ben Mendelsohn.) Her servant/chaperone, Marie (Monica Dolan), urges her to marry him but she protests that she doesn’t even like him, let alone love him. Marie reminds her that she’s running out of money. “A clever marriage is your only option,” she says. Argh! Does every period piece have to include a version of this scene? I’m not saying none of them should do so. Both the 1995 Sense and Sensibility and the 2019 Little Women have the female characters lament that marriage is the only way they can get financial security in their culture and those are both wonderfully written adaptations.[2]As I’ve written before, I don’t find the movies themselves that fun to watch but their screenplays (by Emma Thompson and Greta Gerwig respectively) are great. One of my favorite movies/musicals, Fiddler on the Roof, has a whole song (Matchmaker) on the topic. But with each of those movies, the topic actually relates to the classic story being retold. By contrast, Roxanne’s financial status is never an issue throughout the rest of Cyrano.[3]To be fair, it was developed a bit more in the screenplay as written as was the character of Marie. But that was cut from the final film. The opening conversation serves no purpose but to make the movie needlessly cliche. Sure, feminists may appreciate the movie acknowledging the historical hardship faced by women, but you know what feminists might also appreciate, possibly more so? A period piece where the heroine is a powerful figure who can marry whatever man she chooses.[4]The 1950 movie made a better attempt to make the material more feminist by having Roxanne explain to Cyrano why she demands her lover be both handsome and eloquent thus: “You men own the world … Continue reading

At the theater, we meet our hero, master poet/swordsman Cyrano de Bergerac (Peter Dinklage, husband of Erica Schmidt, who wrote the movie and the stage musical.) The musical’s biggest twist on the original play is that instead of having a ridiculously big nose, Cyrano’s big physical defect is that he’s a little person. I’m sorry but I fail to see the appeal of this. It changes the tone of the story since dwarfism is a real reason a man would feel like a conventionally attractive woman could never love him. Nothing wrong with stories about serious real-world problems, of course, but what was wrong with the story being “a heroic comedy” as Rostand intended? Was it just so Dinklage could play the character? That’s not the worst reason since he’s the movie’s biggest asset. But why not have Cyrano be both a little person and have his traditional deformity?[5]Well, one reason might be that it’s arguably important that the thing keeping Cyrano from being handsome or at least not unhandsome is technically small. It’s his vanity more than his … Continue reading Is Dinklage just too big an actor to wear a gag nose?

Maybe I could respect the choice if this Cyrano really felt like it was trying to be a grittier, more realistic and grounded version of the story. But with its modern sounding dialogue[6]The mindsets of the characters are also, more or less, modern compared to those in the original play., the caricatured performances of most of the supporting cast and the cheesy musical numbers, this movie doesn’t really feel like it’s avoiding goofiness.

How can I complain about the musical numbers in this movie when I love the ones in Les Misérables (2012), another modern movie adaptation of a stage musical based on a classic work of French literature, especially since it’s one that’s darker and grittier than Cyrano de Bergerac? Shouldn’t they be more of a hindrance to taking that story seriously? Likely, it’s an innate advantage of a sung-through musical over a non-sung-through musical. Since (almost) every scene in Les Misérables is a song[7]This is not as true of the movie version as of the stage musical but it’s close to the truth., it’s easier to get used to it and accept that this is a world where people sing all the time instead of talking. With the characters in Cyrano and other such musicals alternating between singing and speaking, it’s more jarring.[8]I know this isn’t a universally held opinion and there are viewers who feel Les Misérables didn’t need to consist entirely of songs. What can I say? Those viewers aren’t writing … Continue reading I think it also might be because there’s lots of singing in Les Misérables but barely any dancing, so it doesn’t try to make bakers baking bread a metaphor for sexual desire or have a training session for a garrison of soldiers turn into a ballet or show characters rubbing love letters against their skin like they’re making out with them.

But I suspect the main reason is that Les Misérables‘s songs are just much better than the ones lyricists Matt Berninger and Carin Besser and composers Aaron and Bryce Dessner wrote for Cyrano. Maybe I was overly harsh to call them cheesy, but I can’t give any of them a more positive description than “pleasant.” The one that comes closest to being memorable is Heaven Is Wherever I Fall, in which various soldiers about die reminisce about their loved ones. It’s a problem when the most moving song in your musical is all about background characters.

The movie may not entirely dispense with the original play’s often whimsical tone, but it frequently bungles what made its comedy work-or its drama work for that matter. (This is the part of the blog post that will really spoil a first viewing experience, so if anyone newcomers haven’t bailed out yet, now is the time.) Early in Rostand’s version, Roxanne confides in Cyrano, her cousin,[9]The 2021 has them be old friends to reduce any squickiness. Remember what I mentioned about the characters being modernized. that she and a handsome new recruit in his regiment, Christian de Neuvillette (Kelvin Harrison Jr in this movie) are in love though they have never spoken. She asks him to protect the man, not realizing that Cyrano is secretly in love with her himself. Later, to impress the other cadets who are hazing him, Christian insults the infamously touchy Cyrano’s nose. Cyrano is about to literally kill him when he’s told his name and immediately restrains himself for Roxanne’s sake. But, as Cyrano is recounting a story, Christian keeps making nose puns. Finally, Cyrano explodes and orders everyone else out of the room. The audience and most of the characters expect the worst but once Cyrano is alone with Christian, he embraces him and says he’s glad the man Roxanne loves is so brave. The musical simplifies this scenario to the point that it’s only a fifth as funny and not a tenth as suspenseful. Later, while it keeps Cyrano being told to stall the predatory De Guiche until Christian and Roxanne have wed, the movie completely removes the sequence of him posing as a lunatic who claims to have been to the moon.[10]An allusion to the actual writing of the historical Cyrano. Why?!

In the original play, not only did Roxanne sneak past enemy lines to be with Christian on the battlefield and possibly die with him but she smuggled in a feast for the starving French troops. Like Anthony Burgess’s 1970 English translation, this movie dispenses with all that, presumably because it’s not realistic.[11]In his defense, Burgess did later revise his translation to be closer to the text. Again, with the realism thing? This story isn’t supposed to be realistic. It’s supposed to be fun. And when so many modern adaptations strain themselves trying to make the heroines more proactive, it’s bizarre to see this one make her less so, especially since it sometimes seems like it’s trying to offer a female perspective on the material. (When De Guiche admiringly says that only a woman could suggest a plan of revenge such as the one she, for secret purposes of her own, has given him, she retorts that “only a man could think so.”) Instead of having Roxanne being physically present to tell Christian she now loves him for his “soul,” not his looks, the musical has her tell him this in a letter. Since Cyrano has been the one ghostwriting all of Christian’s love letters and feeding him all his romantic lines, Christian realizes this means it’s truly Cyrano Roxanne loves, and he’s already realized Cyrano loves her. He insists Cyrano tell her the truth and that their unconsummated marriage be annulled if she wishes it. In Rostand’s version, this leads to Cyrano questioning Roxanne as to whether she’d really love Christian if he were ugly, hardly daring to believe this. When she insists it’s true, his hopes rise and he’s about to confess, when he’s informed that Christian is dying. Unwilling to let him die unmourned by Roxanne, he resolves to keep up the deception. Of course, in the movie, there is no Roxanne present so there are none of the rising and falling hopes that make the scene so dramatic. No sooner has Christian insisted that Roxanne be told the truth than he is killed. What’s more, Cyrano’s decision not to tell Roxanne, which was already hard to understand in the original, becomes completely baffling here. Since Christian’s last wishes were that Roxanne know all, not telling her seems disrespectful to him as well as brutally unfair to her. The whole ending becomes boring in its bleakness rather than satisfyingly tragic.[12]This excellent LiveJournal post about the Anthony Burgess translation makes many of the same points I am making.

Having said all that, I’m going to give this movie a mild recommendation. Why?

Well, the dialogue may not be Rostand, but it is generally fun and engaging and it retains enough of his ideas to be interesting. Director Joe Wright (Anna Karenina, Pride and Prejudice) makes the movie look good even if he doesn’t have the best taste in scripts. I love the staging of Christian’s one attempt to woo Roxanne with his own words with the two of them staring down from a great height in keeping with his feelings of panic. Bennet and Harrison are appealing in their roles. But it’s Dinklage who really saves the film. His tough, scrappy Cyrano vividly conveys having had to fight for people’s respect his entire life. Yet when he speaks with Roxanne-or even just speaks of her-the vulnerability in his eyes can break your heart.

Even burdened with a boring song, he shines in the classic scene of Cyrano impersonating Christian in the dark, expressing his real feelings for Roxanne for once.

I like the painted ceiling behind Roxanne, symbolizing how Cyrano and Christian equate her with Heaven.

I’ve claimed that the changes this adaptation makes to the climax ruin the ending, but Dinklage and company still manage to make the last scene a powerful tearjerker.

I’d still recommend any of the versions of this story I mentioned in this post’s first paragraph over this one. But if, after partaking of them, you become a fan, it wouldn’t hurt to check this Cyrano out too.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody!

References

References
↑1 Actually, my introduction was an episode of Wishbone, but I’d forgotten about that by the time I saw the 1950 movie.
↑2 As I’ve written before, I don’t find the movies themselves that fun to watch but their screenplays (by Emma Thompson and Greta Gerwig respectively) are great.
↑3 To be fair, it was developed a bit more in the screenplay as written as was the character of Marie. But that was cut from the final film.
↑4 The 1950 movie made a better attempt to make the material more feminist by having Roxanne explain to Cyrano why she demands her lover be both handsome and eloquent thus: “You men own the world and all that is in it. Woman is at best a prize, a property valued much the same as a horse or a dog…If I must be chattel, then the terms shall be mine and the price according to my own values.”
↑5 Well, one reason might be that it’s arguably important that the thing keeping Cyrano from being handsome or at least not unhandsome is technically small. It’s his vanity more than his actual appearance that hurts him.
↑6 The mindsets of the characters are also, more or less, modern compared to those in the original play.
↑7 This is not as true of the movie version as of the stage musical but it’s close to the truth.
↑8 I know this isn’t a universally held opinion and there are viewers who feel Les Misérables didn’t need to consist entirely of songs. What can I say? Those viewers aren’t writing this blog.
↑9 The 2021 has them be old friends to reduce any squickiness. Remember what I mentioned about the characters being modernized.
↑10 An allusion to the actual writing of the historical Cyrano.
↑11 In his defense, Burgess did later revise his translation to be closer to the text.
↑12 This excellent LiveJournal post about the Anthony Burgess translation makes many of the same points I am making.
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