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The Pevensies and the beavers are trudging across a vast frozen lake. There’s a nice transition from the white landscape to the white sky. Mr. Beaver, who is far ahead, calls behind him, “Come on, humans! While we’re still young.” Peter takes the weary Lucy on his back. “If he tells us to hurry one more time,” he says, “I’m going to turn him into a big fluffy hat!” William Moseley’s line reading indicates that he’s less annoyed with Mr. Beaver than trying to cheer up Lucy with humor. This is noteworthy in retrospect because in this movie’s sequel, Moseley’s performance would pass up on most of the opportunities it had to make Peter likeable. “Come on,” Mr. Beaver calls again. “He is getting a little bossy,” says Lucy. “No, behind you! It’s her!” cries Mrs. Beaver. The Pevensies turn around and see a sleigh in the distance. Lucy gets off of Peter and they race for their lives. Sharp-eyed viewers, unfamiliar with the book, will be able to guess that this a misdirect when we see that the sleigh is being drawn by reindeer but they’re gray rather than white like the White Witch’s deer. (In the book, they were brown. Maybe the filmmakers thought gray would be less obviously not white than brown would be.) Fans will already be able to guess what’s coming.

Our heroes hide in a ditch. They hear the sleigh stop and see a tall shadow pass over them.

Peter reluctantly volunteers to get out and check to see if its’ safe, but Mr. Beaver insists on being the one to do so, saying, “you’re worth nothing to Narnia dead.” There’s a nice they-really-do-love-each-other moment as Mrs. Beaver objects that her husband isn’t worth anything dead either. He appreciates the sentiment but sneaks out of hiding anyway. After a tense moment, his head pokes down over the culvert’s upper lip. “Come here! Come here,” he says, ” I hope you’ve all been good because there’s someone here to see you!” They climb up out of hiding to see a white-bearded man (James Cosmo) in red^[1]Actually, it’s more of a brown but whatever. standing in front of the sleigh. Lucy’s face lights up. “Merry Christmas, sir,” she says. “It certainly is, Lucy,” he replies, “since you have arrived.” Yes, this is Father Christmas.^[2]They never say his name aloud in the movie, presumably because American kids might not be familiar with it. Not saying the name allows them to assume it’s Santa Claus while English kids can … Continue reading

The inclusion of this character in the story of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe has always been controversial. Both the people to whom C. S. Lewis showed his draft felt he didn’t fit but Lewis stubbornly insisted on keeping him. Unsurprisingly, given that this adaptation has less of an emphasis on charming tea parties and more of an emphasis on military preparations, the filmmakers were tempted to cut Father Christmas and have Aslan give the children their gifts.^[3]The 1979 made-for-TV cartoon did the same thing though weirdly they still had another character refer to Father Christmas. Were they speaking literally or metaphorically? But whether it was the insistence of C. S. Lewis’s literary estate, fear of fan backlash or some storytelling instinct of their own, the character was included though their intentions were to portray him “not as a jolly old St. Nick with a bag of video games but as a wise old Norse warrior, returning home after years of battle, full of both hard-earned wisdom and love for the children.” I’d argue that was already how C. S. Lewis depicted him, minus being Norse or a warrior.^[4]And, hey, it’s not like Lewis specifically wrote that he wasn’t a Norse warrior.

Some of the pictures of Father Christmas in our world make him look only funny and jolly. But now that the children actually stood looking at him, they didn’t find it quite like that. He was so big, and so glad, and so real, that they all became quite still. They felt very glad, but also solemn.

I actually imagined Father Christmas in the book to be more serious than James Cosmo plays him as being in the movie. He doesn’t go “ho, ho, ho,” but he does chuckle quite a bit throughout the scene, and he shows more of a sense of humor than his literary counterpart, apologizing for scaring the characters but adding, “in my defense I have been driving one of these longer than the Witch.” He does get the glad part though and the music that plays during the scene matches the description of glad-but-solemn quite well. It’s one of my favorite parts of the soundtrack. “I’ve put up with a lot since I got here but this…” Susan whispers to Peter. That line likely reflects the screenwriters’ own reaction to encountering Father Christmas in the source material. If the movie had emphasized the line, I’d probably find the self-aware lampshade hanging annoying, but the director wisely keeps Susan’s incredulity in the background and for the most part, plays the joy of the moment straight. “I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia,” she says out loud. (Nobody’s actually mentioned that to her in this movie that we’ve heard but I suppose we can infer Lucy did so offscreen.) Father Christmas sadly affirms that this has been true for a long time but “the hope that you have brought, Your Majesties, is finally starting to weaken the Witch’s power.” That is probably the line in this adaptation most criticized by fans of the book which portrays Aslan as being responsible for the return of spring and Christmas to Narnia, not the prophesied kings and queens. I’m not as mad as some fans about this, mostly because the change didn’t surprise me. From comments I’d read from the director and just the way the movie itself had been setting up the story, I figured it would be Pevensies’ presence in Narnia that would break the Witch’s spell in this version. It’s considered bad storytelling nowadays to have side characters be the main ones to save the day rather than your heroes, so I had already resigned myself to this inevitable change, annoying as it is for fans of the character of Aslan.

Anyway, even with all the hope they’ve brought, Father Christmas says the Pevensies could probably use some help against the Witch, so he pulls out a sack and gives each of them some gifts. He hands them out in the reverse order that he does in the book. Perhaps this is because the movie wants Peter to be a bigger hero than he was in the book^[5]Well, actually he was just as big of a hero in the book, but the book wasn’t particularly interested in his heroism. and so also wants his gift to be the big climax of this scene. First, Father Christmas gives Lucy a bottle. “The juice of the fire flower,” he explains. “One drop will cure any injury.” He also gives her a fancy dagger-the props in this movie are beautifully designed-though he tells her he hopes she’ll never have to use it.

“I think I could be brave enough,” Lucy argues, a little uncertainly. “I’m sure you could,” says Father Christmas, “but battles are ugly affairs.” This is a change from his potentially controversial line from the book, “battles are ugly when women fight.” Personally, I think changing the line was the right idea since it would have seemed like a political commentary on women in the military and I prefer to keep political commentary out of my escapist fantasies.^[6]Of course, I understand why writers want to include commentary about issues that are important to them, and I don’t expect them to avoid writing about those issues just to please me. But I … Continue reading Honestly, even if I wanted this story to make a case against women in the military, Father Christmas’s original line doesn’t exactly do that very well. (Battles are ugly by definition.) Then again, you could argue the new version of this line isn’t unanswerable either since other characters are going to be sent into battle despite its ugliness. But to its credit, the movie is going to hang a lampshade on that, one that actually makes me laugh. I think there’s a value to keeping Lucy’s question about whether she should fight in the battle, despite the controversy it invites, since it differentiates her character from that of Susan who is quite happy to just have weapons for self-defense and permission to sit out any battle.^[7]In the later Narnia books, The Horse and his Boy and The Last Battle, C. S. Lewis would have his heroines, one of them an older Lucy, take part in battles albeit only as archers. This may not have … Continue readingSpeaking of Susan, Father Christmas gives her a bow and a quiver of arrows. In a fun, whimsical touch, the quiver has her initials (S. P.) on it. “Trust in this bow and it will not easily miss,” Father Christmas tells Susan. “What happened to ‘battles are ugly affairs?'” she objects. “And though you don’t seem to have a problem making yourself heard,” he chuckles, handing her an ivory horn shaped like a lion’s mouth, “blow on this and wherever you are, help will come.” Susan manages a smile and thanks him, though characteristically she still seems a little uncomfortable with these special gifts.

Then it’s Peter’s turn. Father Christmas gives him a sword and a silver shield with a red image of a lion on it. “The time to bear these may be near at hand,” he explains. “These are tools, not toys. Bear them well and wisely.” Peter gravely accepts his gifts and seems much more openminded about using them than Susan is about using hers, which doubtless disturbs her.

You know what annoys me about how this scene plays out in the movie? Unlike in the book, the beavers don’t get any presents. They’re the ones who have been denied Christmas for most of their lives, not the humans! C. S. Lewis had Father Christmas’s gift to Mr. Beaver be to repair his not quite finished house and his gift to Mrs. Beaver be a new and better sewing machine to replace the one she was worried about the White Witch ruining. (See why that should have been kept?) An earlier draft of the screenplay alluded to these gifts without specifying what they were but, alas, that bit didn’t survive the editing process.

“Now I must be off,” says Father Christmas, putting the sack back in his sleigh. “Winter is almost over and things do pile up when you’ve been gone a hundred years. Long live Aslan and merry Christmas!” As he drives off, everybody waves and calls, “merry Christmas,” after him. “Told you he was real,” Lucy says to Susan. I feel like eight is a bit old to still believe in Father Christmas but it’s a funny line. Despite my various nitpicks, I really am grateful this scene wasn’t scrapped from the movie for fear of being too cute. The joy of it makes a nice break from what is tense, dramatic part of the story.

Speaking of tension and drama…

“He said winter was almost over,” muses Peter. “You know what that means,” he says to his sisters, “no more ice.” We cut to the frozen river they’re supposed to cross, which is not looking so very frozen anymore.

I can resign myself to an adaptation adding an action scene to this part of the story. I don’t love the idea, but I don’t passionately despise it either. However, from when I first heard the specific idea for this action scene, I thought it didn’t make sense thematically since the melting of snow and ice is supposed to be a good thing in the story. The book at this point states that they couldn’t have kept to the river valley because it was flooded with melting snow, but that didn’t matter since the Witch could no longer pursue them in her sleigh and they could afford to take their time.^[8]The 1979 cartoon would also add an action scene at this point with the Witch’s sleigh almost catching up to the characters. But in that one, the coming of spring would save the day as it slowed … Continue reading Fortunately, when I saw the movie for the first time, I was so caught up in the action that I forgot to worry about thematic considerations. On subsequent viewings, knowing exactly what’s going to happen, I find my mind wandering more. Oh well.

“We need to cross now,” says Peter. Lucy suggests Mr. Beaver make a dam. “I’m not that fast, dear,” he says. I feel like that’s obvious, but I guess they had to point it out to all the little kids watching.

Peter: Come on!
Susan: Wait! Would you just think about this for a minute?
Peter: We don’t have a minute!
Susan: I’m just trying to be realistic.
Peter: No, you’re trying to be smart! As usual!

Yeah, this isn’t the most interestingly written scene in the film. The actors do the best they can with the generic dialogue though. Susan receives motivation to follow Peter when she hears wolves howling from not too far away. We briefly cut to the White Witch’s sleigh driving across the same landscape our heroes traversed in the last scene. Back at the river, Mr. Beaver volunteers to be the first one to cross, which doesn’t make much sense since, as a beaver, he presumably weighs less than the humans and wouldn’t be the best test subject but oh well. The ice cracks somewhat as he gingerly makes his way over it. “You’ve been sneaking second helpings, haven’t you,” his wife calls triumphantly. “Well, you never know which meals going to be your last,” he says, “especially with your cooking.” That line annoys me because the book implies that Mrs. Beaver is an excellent cook. I dislike seeing her reputation besmirched for the sake of a middling joke. With the frozen waterfall to their left and the flowing river to their right, the other characters gingerly start to follow Mr. Beaver. The ice cracks under their feet but initially no piece sinks or drifts away until they’re off it. In all fairness, this bit is effectively nerve-wracking. If I sound like I hate the action sequences in this movie, I don’t. It’s just that the scenes that aim for majesty or picturesqueness or childlike awe and wonder in general strike me as not only closer to the original book’s spirit but more memorable as cinema in their own right. This bit is just…fine. “If Mum knew what we were doing,” Susan murmurs. “Mum’s not here!” Peter snaps. The dialogue is again obvious, but I appreciate how it reinforces the theme of the kid characters being thrust into this situation where they have to suddenly be adults.

Icicles start to fall from the waterfall. Is it about to completely collapse? No, the wolves are running across it! They jump down and block their prey’s path. Even if running back across the crumbling ice were feasible, more wolves appear behind them. One of the ones in front, not Maugrim, grabs Mr. Beaver by the neck. Peter unsheathes his new sword and awkwardly points it at Maugrim who says, “put that down, boy. Someone could get hurt.” Do you see what I mean about this character being full of pulpy bad guy cliches? (I apologize for using “pulpy” as a descriptor so much lately. Suggest a better word and I’ll be happy to use it for variety.)

Mr. Beaver: Don’t worry about me! Run him through!
Maugrim: Leave now while you can, and your brother leaves with you.
Susan: Stop, Peter! Maybe we should listen to him.
Maugrim (chuckling): Smart girl.
Mr. Beaver: Don’t listen to him! Kill him! Kill him now!
Maugrim: Oh, come on! This isn’t your war. All my queen wants is for you to take your family and go.
Susan: Look, just because some man in a red coat hands you a sword, it doesn’t make you a hero! Just drop it!
Mr. Beaver: No, Peter! Narnia needs you! Gut him while you still have a chance!
Maugrim: What’s it going to be, son of Adam? I won’t wait forever. And neither will the river.

OK, there are a number of things this dialogue is doing or trying to do. One of them is to try to build enmity between Peter and Maugrim so that when the former later kills the latter, it will be a more satisfying moment. (In the book, that was the only chapter that really focused on Peter’s coming of age, which the movie wants to be, more or less, the emotional center of the story.) On that level, it works.

Another thing it wants to do is present Peter with a dilemma. Should he listen to the wolf and possibly save Edmund or not? That part of the scene is pretty dumb since, unlike the White Witch when she first met Edmund, Maugrim is transparently villainous and there’s no reason to believe he would just release Edmund and let all the Pevensies go if Peter were to put down his weapon. In fact, there’s a good argument to be made that it’s ridiculously out of character for the sensible Susan to fall for Maugrim’s obvious lies. I’d make the counterargument that while the character of Susan is supposed to be pragmatic, she’s also supposed to be a bit of a coward. (No offense meant. I’m a bit of one too.) I can buy that with all the stress she’s under that she’d panic and temporarily lose her normal good sense even though I don’t love how that plays out here.

Another thing this scene is doing or trying to do is to give voice to all the contradictory thoughts and impulses going through Peter’s mind without him actually saying anything. Susan and Maugrim are voicing his doubts and insecurities as well as the obligation he feels to his family while Mr. Beaver is voicing the other obligation he feels to fulfill the prophecy and save Narnia. That aspect of the scene strikes me as somewhat annoyingly heavy handed. But you could argue that’s the point. The viewer maybe feels overwhelmed by the lack of subtlety just as Peter feels overwhelmed by his high-pressure situation.

Water starts to spurt out of the waterfall. The long-frozen icicles tremble. But Peter gets an idea. “Hold on to me!” he cries to the girls. They do so as he plunges his sword, not into Maugrim, but into the ice directly in front of him. The ice above collapses and all the characters are engulfed by water.

I’ve got to say it was a shocking decision on the movie’s part to kill off Peter, Susan, Lucy and the beavers here. Definitely a change from the book and not what you’d expect from a children’s movie, but I think it works.

Just kidding! After a moment of silence, a chunk of ice surfaces on the river with Peter, Susan and Lucy clinging to Peter’s sword which still sticks out of it. How did he know the sword wouldn’t split the ice apart? Or that the chunk around it would be big enough to support them all? I don’t know. This is one of those scenes that rewards not thinking about it. Fortunately, if I like a movie and it needs me to not think about it, I’m willing to not think about it. But since I’m doing this lengthy in-depth analysis, I suppose I must. I guess you could say Peter was trapped in any case and this idea was worth a shot.

As the ice floats downstream, Lucy almost slips off, but Peter grabs her shoulder, almost losing hold of his sword in the process. The beavers, who naturally can swim in the cold water, reappear and push the ice toward the shore, allowing the Pevensies to climb off it. But then Peter realizes that he’s not clutching Lucy but only her coat. “What have you done?” screams Susan. We get a shot of the icy rushing river.

Oh, poor Lucy! She was so young, so innocent, so…no, it’s another fake out. Lucy is elsewhere on shore, looking for her coat. Peter just hands it to her, too overjoyed for words. “Don’t worry, dear, your brother’s got you well looked after,” says Mr. Beaver. “And I don’t think you’ll be needing those coats anymore,” says Mrs. Beaver. As the characters pass some frozen trees, we see the frost on them melt and buds start to blossom. Then we cut to later when the previously snowy wood is almost entirely green, more flowers are blossoming in fast motion and Peter, Susan and Lucy have abandoned their coats. Of course, those coats would have been useless even if it were still winter, considering that they’re now cold and wet. Why aren’t Peter, Susan or Lucy getting hypothermia from their dip in the icy river? Magic, I guess.

Meanwhile the White Witch stands…wait. That’s it? Returning spring to Narnia is one of the story’s main goals and a big part of its appeal to the emotions. This seems like the obvious time to have a montage of the landscape changing from white to brown to green. You can’t say it would have made the movie too slow as we just had a tense action scene. I feel like the film earned the right to stop and smell the roses and some its best scenes are when it does just that.

In 2006, an extended cut of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was released. It was a pretty obvious cash grab. The reinstated footage added up to a little more than six extra minutes, mostly consisting of awkward moments that were rightly cut from the theatrical version. But there are a couple of bits that genuinely improve the movie. One of them is the arrival of spring, which is a more drawn-out moment if only by a matter of seconds. They’re seconds well spent. The scenery is lovely, it’s refreshing to see the characters enjoy it, especially Susan the worrywart, and we actually see them passing the hill of the Stone Table. In the book, Aslan’s camp is originally right next to the sacred table, and he later moves it. That would be expensive and time consuming to show in a movie, so the camp is portrayed as removed from the table right from the start. But confusingly, the characters still refer to the camp as being at the Stone Table even though we don’t see it until a later scene somewhere else. This is still a bit confusing in the extended cut but nonetheless relatively easier to parse. Clear exposition sadly isn’t a strength of any of the Narnia movies but that’s less of a problem with this first one then it is with the 2008 Prince Caspian or the 2010 Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

Meanwhile the White Witch stands by the now clear waterfall with Edmund and Ginarrbrik. “It’s so warm out,” says the dwarf as he starts to remove his coat. The Witch gives him a look. While she retains her aloof attitude, she’s clearly furious inside. Ginarrbrik wisely excuses himself to check the sleigh. We see Edmund smile for the first time since he sat on the Witch’s throne. The wolves, who have survived the river, appear with the fox in one of their mouths. “We found the traitor,” one (in the voice of either editor Jim May or fellow editor Sim Evan-Jones; IMDB isn’t clear) says to the Witch, “He was rallying your enemies in the Shuddering Woods.” In the book, the fox or the fox’s dramatic equivalent was caught celebrating Christmas along with some other Narnians. The movie, as I’ve mentioned before, emphasizes military matters over feasting. (I don’t mean that as a criticism, but I don’t mean it as a compliment either.) Shuddering Wood is the name of a location in the Narnia books though so props for that. The wolf drops the fox on the ground. “Ah, nice of you to drop in,” says the Witch. Here is one of the things that makes Tilda Swinton’s performance in this film so great. Given an obvious villainous one-liner like that, she manages to make it sound menacing. “You were so helpful to my wolves last night,” she continues, “Perhaps you can help me now.” The fox hangs his head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he says. “Don’t waste my time with flattery,” says the Witch, sounding pleased, nonetheless. “Not to seem rude,” says the fox, “but I wasn’t actually talking to you.” It’s a great moment. The Witch’s head swerves to look at Edmund and she continues to stare at him in fury as she moves closer to the fox and points her wand at him.

“Where are the humans headed?” she demands. The fox doesn’t look like he’s going to answer. She raises her wand to strike but Edmund suddenly gets between her and her victim. “Wait! No, don’t,” he says, “The beaver said something about the Stone Table and that Aslan had an army there.” The fox shakes his head, but the Witch seems pacified. “Thank you, Edmund,” she says, “I am glad this creature got to see some honesty-before he died!” She touches the fox with her wand and to Edmund’s horror, he turns to stone. The book had mentioned this ability of the Witch’s in the second chapter and the movie had been gradually building up to it, but this moment is the first time in either version that we actually witness her turning someone into a statue and it’s still shocking. She then smacks Edmund’s face and tells him, “Think about whose side you’re on, Edmund, mine or theirs.” The book describes this as the first time in the story that Edmund felt sorry for someone other than himself. That isn’t the case in this movie as we’ve already seen him pity Tumnus, but he still gains more sympathy from the audience.

I’m not sure how Edmund could have had time to hear about Aslan’s army and its location, considering how quickly he got from the beavers’ house to the Witch’s. And I’m not even sure if there was a narrative purpose to him withholding the information from her before, only to spill it now. In the aforementioned earlier draft of the script, Edmund’s well-meaning confession comes before the melting waterfall scene and knowing which direction the other Pevensies are headed is how the wolves are able to catch up with them there. That would have made more storytelling sense, but I do prefer the pacing of the final version. “Gather the faithful,” the Witch instructs her police, “If it’s a war Aslan wants, it’s a war he shall get.” That’s another cliche line that Swinton makes chilling. She’s helped by the fact that as she says it, the Witch randomly zaps a passing butterfly, turning it into stone.

Next Week: We’ve Seen the Wardrobe. We’ve Seen the Witch. Now It’s Time for the Lion.

Bibliography

Lewis, C. S. (1950) The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. HarperCollins Publishers.

Moore, Perry. (2005) The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe: The Official Illustrated Move Companion. Disney Enterprises Inc.

As Edmund enters the White Witch’s courtyard, he looks up and sees what appears to be a giant man about to hit him with a club, but it turns out to be a stone statue. Fans of the book will recognize this as Rumblebuffin the giant, who becomes a major source of comic relief in the second-to-last chapter. In this movie, he’ll just be a cameo since giving a lot of characterization to minor characters who aren’t introduced until a story’s climax doesn’t seem to work as well in a movie as it does in a book. (That’s one of the reasons literature is the more interesting of the two mediums in my opinion but never mind about that now.)

Edmund cautiously makes his way across the courtyard, which is full of stone statues of Narnian creatures, all of whom look as if they’re either about to attack or are cringing in terror. Since this version of the story hasn’t established that the White Witch turns people to stone yet^[1]Though genre-savvy viewers probably guess she does at this point., this scene arguably doesn’t make the same impression as in the book but that doesn’t mean it makes a bad impression. Sheesh, you could argue it’s more interesting if we don’t know what the statues are right away. It’s a wonderfully eerie bit.

At one point, Edmund’s feet brush against a pile of charred logs on the ground. He picks one up and makes an ash moustache and glasses on the face of a stone lion. In the book, the reason Edmund does this is that he believes the stone lion^[2]Who also becomes a source of comic relief at the climax by the way. is Aslan, the sound of whose name has filled him with such dread. But in the movie, we haven’t been told Aslan’s species yet, so this moment feels a bit random and doesn’t really fit in with the scene’s creepy tone. Maybe it would have been better if, as in the book, the lion were the first statue Edmund encounters.^[3]This was so in an earlier draft on the screenplay.

In a great jump scare albeit one the book handed to the movie, Edmund tries to step over what appears to be a stone wolf, only for it to rear up, snarling, and pin him to the ground. “Be still, stranger, or you’ll never move again,” it says (in Michael Madsen’s voice), “Who are you?” Michael Madsen is the only voice actor in the movie whose casting I can’t decide if I like. He sounds suitably gruff and scary but something about his line readings bothers me just a tad. Maybe it’s because he’s the only Narnian in the film who sounds like he has an American accent. The others either speak with English accents of some sort or another or sound too generic to place.^[4]Another exception is Kiran Shah as Ginarrbrik with his Persian accent. Since this wolf is one of the White Witch’s followers though it arguably makes sense to give him a different accent from the followers of Aslan. But, given the historical backdrop the movie has established, wouldn’t it make more thematic sense for the bad guys to have German or Japanese accents?^[5]For the record, I don’t think either the movie or the book should be interpreted as a metaphor for World War II. That idea really falls apart if you think about it for any length of time. C. S. … Continue reading I guess that would have had its own drawbacks. Maybe it just bugs me that this wolf is written like a generic bad guy from a pulpy, even cheesy, action movie and has a voice to match. Of course, the character was always a generic bad guy but not a pulpy one. Anyway, Edmund hastily explains his identity and his relationship to the Witch. The wolf lets him up. “My apologies,” he says, “fortunate favorite of the Queen-or else not so fortunate.” That line is from the book. It’s kind of sad that that’s rare enough to be worth mentioning.

The wolf leads Edmund upstairs to an empty throne room and tells him to wait there. Once he’s alone, Edmund sits on the throne and grins, obviously imagining himself king. “Like it?” asks a cold voice. Edmund jumps up as the Witch enters, followed by Ginarrbrik. Since I just described the movie’s writing, for one character anyway, as being pulpy and even cheesy, I’m happy to say that the following exchange is one of the best written parts of the movie and even improves on the book by having the Witch toy with Edmund before unleashing her anger on him.

Witch: Tell me, Edmund, are your sisters deaf?
Edmund: No.
Witch: And you brother, is he…unintelligent?
Edmund: Well, I think so, but Mum says-

“Then how dare you come alone?!” shouts the Witch. Edmund feebly protests that it’s not his fault as the Witch continue to lay into him. “I did bring them halfway,” he says, “they’re at the little house at the dam with the beavers.” Ginarrbrik raises his eyebrows and the Witch, after pausing and twiddling her fingers a bit, resumes her former iciness. “Well, I suppose you’re not a total loss then, are you?” she says. Then she turns back to her throne, clearly having no more interest in Edmund. “I was wondering,” he says, “could I maybe have some more Turkish Delight now?” The Witch turns to Ginarrbrik. “Our guest is hungry,” she says coldly. (Sorry for all the corny winter-related puns in this post. And right after I called the movie’s dialogue cheesy! Those puns are just so irresistible.) Ginarrbrik starts to lead Edmund out of the room at knifepoint, saying, “This way for num-nums!” In the book, it’s actually a different dwarf who brings Edmund food and drink. I kind of wish that could have been kept to show that the Witch has many dwarf minions, not just one, but fantasy movies like this are expensive enough without unnecessary speaking parts. Edmund and Ginarrbrik pause as the Witch calls, “Maugrim,” which viewers may remember was the name of the captain of her secret police. The wolf steps forward. “You know what to do,” she says. Maugrim howls and more wolves appear out of various alcoves and entrances. As Edmund looks on in horror, they run out of the room and out the castle. The movie does a good job of making them look scary except for one ill-advised slow motion shot where they’re obviously regular wolves and not evil. Slow motion is usually a bad idea in my opinion. It looks silly way too easily.

“Hurry, mother, they’re after us!” cries Mr. Beaver as he bursts into his home with the non-treacherous Pevensies. “Right then,” says Mrs. Beaver and begins packing. “What is she doing?” Peter demands. Mr. Beaver just throws up a hand in exasperation. “You’ll be thanking me later,” explains Mrs. Beaver. “It’s a long journey and Beaver gets pretty cranky when he’s hungry,” to which Mr. Beaver says, “I’m cranky now!” As a fan of the book, I have mixed opinions about this scene. On the one hand, Mrs. Beaver calmly packing while everybody else freaks out about the coming secret police is one of the funniest parts of the book and I love that it’s included here. On the other hand, it feels like the comedy here is more at Mrs. Beaver’s expense than it is the book. There, when everyone else protests that they need to get away as soon as possible, she calmly explains that they have no hope of outrunning the Witch or her forces in any case and that their best bet is to “keep under cover and go by ways she won’t expect” and that it’d be foolish for them to leave without taking any food, all of which is true in the movie too but it doesn’t feel that way in the moment. The only ridiculously silly thing Mrs. Beaver says in the book’s version of this scene is “I suppose the sewing machine’s took heavy to bring?” Even that is somewhat understandable, given what the secret police did to Tumnus’s house. No sewing machine is mentioned in the movie. How do you write a version of Mrs. Beaver that leans into comedy and not include that hilarious line about the sewing machine? Pearls before swine, I tell you, pearls before swine!

The wolves arrive and start tearing through the walls of the house. (Don’t ask me why they don’t try breaking down the door.) But once inside, they find the place empty. One of them finds a cupboard opening to a secret underground tunnel, which sort of corresponds to the “old hiding place for beavers in bad times” in which our heroes took refuge for the night in the book. “Badger and me dug this. It comes out right near his place,” explains Mr. Beaver. “You told me it led to your mum’s!” says Mrs. Beaver accusingly. Do you see what I mean about the movie leaning into cliches about bickering married couples with these characters? Lucy trips on a root and when the others stop to help her, they hear that the wolves are now in the tunnel. In the book, our heroes leave well before the secret police arrive and are able to avoid them. While adding a chase scene is arguably part of making Mrs. Beaver’s preparations come across as sillier, I don’t necessarily mind since I love a good chase scene and while a chase scene is technically against the spirit of the book in that it’s not from the book, it doesn’t feel deeply antithetical to it or anything. Setting the source material aside, how does the ensuing chase scene work just as a chase scene? Well, it’s fine though I don’t think anyone would call it a highlight of the film.

For a moment, it looks like Mr. Beaver has accidentally led them to a dead end, but it turns out there’s a hole above. The group clambers out into another part of the woods and blocks the entrance with a nearby barrel. When they have time to catch their breaths and look around, they see that this little village is full of stone animals, including a stone badger. “I’m so sorry, dear,” says Mrs. Beaver to her husband. “He was my best mate,” he says sadly.

“What happened here?” asks Peter. “This is what becomes of those who cross the Witch,” says a new voice. It’s a fox (voiced by Rupert Everett.) This character will end up corresponding to a fox from the book but whereas that fox was a groveling victim of the White Witch, this one turns out to be a wily rebel against her. I like the character and Rupert Everett does a great job of voicing him^[6]Though I’m given to understand that Everett himself, while eager to be part of an adaptation of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, was unhappy with the result, feeling that talking animals … Continue reading but I’m not a fan of the way he’s written.

Mr. Beaver: Take one more step, traitor, and I’ll chew you to splinters!
Fox: Relax. I’m one of the good guys.
Mr. Beaver: Yeah? Well, you look an awful lot like one of the bad ones!
Fox: An unfortunate family resemblance but we can argue breeding later. Right now, we’ve got to move.
Peter: What did you have in mind?

The term, “good guys,” feels too American to me to sit right in a Narnia movie.^[7]“One of the goodies” might have been an improvement. Besides which, this whole exchange feels like something from a quippy action movie. Not that I don’t enjoy a fun quippy action movie now and then but it’s really not what I want from a Narnia adaptation. Basically, everything this fox says and a good deal of what the beavers say as well as anything out of Maugrim’s mouth feels like it belongs in a Star Wars-style action movie and not even a particularly distinguished one. Two of the screenwriters, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, who would stick with this film series to the end, later went on to write Marvel movies and I’ve got to say, yeah, that feels about right.^[8]I hasten to add that from what I’ve heard, some of their scripts for Marvel were really good with Avengers: Endgame even being put up for awards consideration. I hate myself for doing this but I’m going to have compare this movie negatively to the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie, which was released the same year and was also based on a popular English children’s fantasy novel. For all that that movie irritates me, both as an adaptation of its source material and as an overall viewing experience, and as much as I prefer The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005) on the whole, I must acknowledge that John Augst’s script for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory feels like it was written by a wordsmith with a specific style, not produced by some automatic Hollywood screenplay writing machine. The generic pulpiness of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe‘s script is particularly strong in this middle section so it’s a good thing it directly follows a really strong opening act, getting viewers invested in the characters, and is the most action filled part of the movie, making it easy to get caught up in the story and ignore the low quality of dialogue. For me, it doesn’t make the movie bad, but it keeps it from being as great as it could very well have been.

Back to the movie. We cut to the wolves bursting out the tunnel. They surround the fox, seemingly all alone, just as he’s finishing sweeping away the refugees’ footprints with his tail. (The movie doesn’t spell out that he’s doing that, but it can be inferred.)

Fox: Greetings, gents. Lost something, have we?
Maugrim: Don’t patronize me. I know where your allegiance lies. We’re looking for some humans.
Fox: Humans? Here in Narnia? Now that’s a valuable bit of information, don’t you think?

The voice actors do a good job of conveying that the idea of humans being something truly out of the ordinary in this world. As the fox speaks, we pan up to see that the Pevensies and the beavers are hiding in the branches of a tree. One of the wolves grabs the fox’s body with its jaws. Peter has to cover Lucy’s mouth to keep her from crying out and one of the beavers has to do the same for the other. I can’t tell which because apparently, I’m racist towards beavers.

“Your reward is life,” says Maugrim, “it’s not much but still…” The fox raises a paw and for a moment, it looks like he might betray the heroes but, no, he says they went north. “Smell them out,” commands Maugrim and the wolves toss the fox’s limp body aside and run off. (I don’t know why their noses can’t lead them to the tree. Just go with it.) Fortunately, the fox’s wounds don’t prove to be fatal. We cut to Mrs. Beaver tending to them as the characters gather around a campfire. The fox explains that the badger and the other stone animals were caught helping Tumnus. (Apparently, Tumnus wasn’t actually in his house when the wolves broke into it. They had to track him here.) “Are you alright?” a concerned Lucy asks the fox in response to his yipping. This is a neat bit of foreshadowing as Lucy will soon become something a doctor albeit because she’ll receive a magic potion, not because of any particular medical skill on her part.

“I wish I could say their bark was worse than their bite,” quips the fox. You see what I mean about this dialogue being really generic? That’s the most obvious and predictable joke you could make about doglike characters in this scenario! “Stop squirming! You’re worse than Beaver on bath day!” Mrs. Beaver tells the fox. “Worst day of the year,” Mr. Beaver confides to the Pevensies. I’m not proud that I laughed at that line when I first heard it, but I did, and it is refreshing to see Susan and Lucy smile at it after seeing them be betrayed by their own brother and chased by fearsome wolves.

“Thank you for your kindness but I’m afraid that’s all the cure I have time for,” says the fox, rising. “You’re leaving?” says Lucy, disappointed. The fox bows to her, saying, “it has been a pleasure, my queen, and an honor.” This is the first time in the movie someone addresses any of the Pevensies as royalty^[9]Unless you count Ginarrbrik calling Edmund “Sire.” and it’s something of a cool moment. “But time is short,” he continues, “and Aslan himself has asked me to gather more troops.” The beavers are impressed by this news. “You’ve seen Aslan?” Mr. Beaver asks incredulously. “What is he like?” Mrs. Beaver inquires. The fox smiles. “Like everything we’ve ever heard,” he says. If my memory of the filmmakers’ audio commentary is correct, this exchange was something of a late addition to the movie in response to test audiences feeling that the character of Aslan hadn’t been built up enough. A common criticism of this adaptation from book fans is that it doesn’t do enough to establish Aslan as the awe-inspiring figure C. S. Lewis intended. While this little moment doesn’t render that criticism untrue, it’s still a nice gesture.

The fox also tells the Pevensies they’ll be glad to have Aslan on their side in the battle against the Witch. Susan quickly disclaims any intention of them fighting. “But, surely, King Peter, the prophecy…” the fox protests. “We can’t go to war without you,” says Mr. Beaver. All Peter can do is exchange a sad glance with Susan and says, “we just want our brother back.”

Edmund meanwhile sits in the White Witch’s icy dungeon with his legs chained. He gnaws at a hunk of dried bread. When it makes him gag, he tries to drink water from a cup but it’s frozen. Props to the adapters. The water wasn’t frozen in the book, so they actually managed to make Edmund’s sufferings worse. A prisoner in the adjoining cell asks for the bread if Edmund doesn’t want it. It’s Mr. Tumnus! (This is something of a change from the book which implies that Tumnus has already been turned to stone around this point. That’s just an observation, not a complaint by the way.) “You’re Lucy Pevensie’s brother,” he says. “You have the same nose.” Do Skandar Keynes and Georgie Henley really have similar noses? I’ve never noticed. “Is your sister alright?” he asks. From outside comes the noise of wolves yapping. “I don’t know,” Edmund says miserably.

Tumnus and Edmund scoot away from each other as the Witch enters, followed by Ginarrbrik. In my last post, I criticized the decision to have the Witch’s fortress be made out of ice, calling it cliche for a winter-themed villain but the way the lighting in these scenes combines with her coloring really conveys that she’s in her element, making her extra intimidating, especially combined with the camera angles that emphasize her height. “My police tore that dam apart,” she tells Edmund, “Your little family are nowhere to be found.” The Witch grabs Edmund by the collar and lifts him into the air. (The character is noted for her strength in the books.) “Where did they go?” she demands. “I don’t know,” says Edmund. She drops him. “Then you are of no further use to me,” she says, raising her wand. Edmund is clearly seconds from being a lawn decoration. His mind races. “The beaver said something about Aslan,” he blurts out. Tumnus looks up and the Witch is rendered momentarily speechless. Another fan complaint about this adaptation is that it portrays the Witch as less frightened of Aslan than she is in the book, undermining the message that the powers of Goodness are stronger than those of Evil. Again, this critique has some weight behind it but, to be fair, the Witch’s reaction to the news of Aslan in this scene can easily be interpreted as fear and it’s a great dramatic moment.

“Aslan? Where?” she asks. Tumnus anxiously interjects that Edmund as a stranger to Narnia couldn’t possibly know that. Ginarrbrik hits him on the head with the butt of a weapon. (I’m sorry I don’t know that particular weapon is called.) The Witch turns back to Edmund. “I said where is Aslan?” In response to Tumnus’s desperation, Edmund backpedals, saying, “I don’t know. I left before they said anything. I wanted to see you,” he adds, trying to turn it into flattery. In the book, Edmund tells the Witch everything about Aslan and the Stone Table as soon as he meets her. The movie has him withhold information to increase suspense though it doesn’t really end up impacting the plot at all. After observing Edmund suspiciously, the Witch calls for a guard who I think is an ogre. This is another minor change from the book which doesn’t introduce us to the Witch’s non-dwarf, non-wolf followers until the story’s final third. The movie has them slowly start to trickle in, starting here though we won’t see them in great numbers, including the ugliest ones, until the same point as in the book.

The Witch orders the guard to release Tumnus. He smashes the faun’s chains while they’re still on his hooves(!) and drags him before her. “Do you know why you’re here?” she asks. “Because I believe in a free Narnia,” he says. Ugh! That has to be the clunkiest line in the movie and it depresses me that it was given to such a well-cast actor in the role of such an iconic character. The Witch points at Edmund. “You’re here because he turned you in,” she says, “for sweeties.” Then she has the guard take Tumnus away and orders Ginarrbrik to ready her sleigh. (“Edmund misses his family.”) As he’s dragged off, Tumnus looks reproachfully at Edmund who, once he’s alone, buries his face in his knees. This does demonstrate the White Witch’s sadism but as a way to make Ed feel guiltier, which I assume was the intent, it doesn’t really make sense. Technically, it was his siblings and the beavers he betrayed “for sweeties.” He just blurted out Tumnus’s secret without having any idea of the consequences. I guess you could argue that by joining with the White Witch he was betraying all of Narnia or something like that. I do understand why the screenwriters felt the need to do something to show that Edmund was feeling guilty since viewers of the movie don’t have the direct access to his thoughts that readers of the book do.^[10]You could argue that at this point in the book, Edmund wasn’t really feeling guilty so much as he was regretting his misdeeds for selfish reasons but that may be overanalyzing.

We transition to morning when the other Pevensies and the beavers stand atop a huge rock bridge, giving them the lay of the land. (This scene is kind of notorious among the fanbase for its poor greenscreen though, personally speaking, it doesn’t bug me much.)

Mr. Beaver: Now Aslan’s camp is near the Stone Table just across the frozen river.
Peter: River?
Mrs. Beaver: Oh, the river’s been frozen solid for a hundred years.
Peter: It’s so far!
Mrs. Beaver: It’s the world, dear. Did you expect it to be small?
Susan: Smaller.

That dialogue really doesn’t make sense. It’s true that in the Narnia books, the children who travel back and forth between worlds call going to the world of Narnia going to Narnia. But that’s just shorthand. Narnia is technically a country, not a world.

Meanwhile, Edmund exits the dungeon under the custody of Ginarrbrik and sees to his horror that the Witch has a new statue in her courtyard.

The Witch’s sleigh rockets out of the gates of her castle. Edmund is forced to sit at her feet. In the book, for purposes of stealth, she doesn’t use sleigh bells at this point. It sounds like she does in the movie, making her less smart but making it a better fake out for the viewers when…well, we’ll get to that in the next scene.

Next Week: The Spell Begins to Break

I might have been exaggerating for dramatic effect when I said we were leaving behind the most consistently great part of the movie with the last post in this series. The scene of the Pevensies discovering that Tumnus’s house has been broken into and vandalized some time ago is quite effective in its ominousness.

Edmund accidentally steps on the picture of Tumnus’s father and sees that it’s been slashed. I assume that by having Edmund desperately try to rescue a picture of his father earlier the screenwriters were giving him an extra reason to feel guilty here. That doesn’t really make sense though since there’s no way Ed could know the faun in the picture was Tumnus’s father, let alone that said father was a soldier like his who may very well have died on the battlefield. Oh well. Interesting idea anyway.

Peter finds a note written in a rather jagged, fearsome looking scrawl pinned to the wall and reads it aloud. The language is from the book though somewhat simplified for pacing purposes.

The Faun Tumnus is hereby charged with high reason against her Imperial Majesty, Jadis, Queen of Narnia, for comforting her enemies and fraternizing with humans. Signed: Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police. Long live the Queen.

Susan: Alright, now we really should go back.
Lucy: But what about Mr. Tumnus?
Susan: He was arrested just for being with a human! I don’t think there’s much we could do.
Lucy: You don’t understand, do you? I’m the human! She must have found out he helped me!
Peter: Maybe we could call the police.
Susan: These are the police.
Peter: Don’t worry, Lu. We’ll think of something.
Edmund: Why? I mean, he’s a criminal!

This is another strong dialogue scene that is true to the characters from the book.^[1]Well, except for Peter being a tad more flustered. I especially like the bit about the police, underlining how these kids are used to having adults help solve their problems and now have to solve them on their own, even be pitted against adults. In both the book and the movie, Tumnus’s trashed home and Maugrim’s letter mark a major turning point in the story. While the White Witch has been established as a threat to the characters already, her wickedness has been implied a lot more than shown and we get the impression the story is about to get a lot darker and more suspenseful. All that is well conveyed. Still, as a fan of the literary source material, I have a few nits to pick.

The bigger one is that it’s disappointing that all Edmund says is that Tumnus is a criminal. In the book, he actually makes a reasonable argument to Peter-or a reasonable sounding one anyway, pointing out that they’ve been dropped in a world about which they know nothing, that Tumnus could have been lying to Lucy and the White Witch could very well be a good person for all they know. He’s trying to delude himself, of course, since he wants her to have been the telling the truth to him about a crown and unlimited Turkish Delight. But readers can understand how he could delude himself and maybe even imagine themselves thinking along the same lines if they were in his situation. It’s regrettable that the movie cuts most of this in the interests of tighter pacing.

Another omission is that while Susan does immediately advocate going home after hearing Maugrim’s note in the book, she changes her tune shortly after though with reluctance.

“I’ve a horrid feeling that Lu is right,” said Susan. “I don’t want to go a step further and I wish we’d never come. But I think we must try to do something for Mr. Whatever-his-name is — I mean the Faun.”

This arguably makes her a more nuanced, interesting character than in the movie. Of course, the cinematic Susan will eventually come around to her literary counterpart’s perspective after she undergoes some development. In the book, while character development was implied for all the Pevensies, Edmund was the only one with a real arc and even with him much of it was offstage. The movie, as we’ll see, tries to give each of its leads a significant character arc except for Lucy and she has so many dramatic moments that it’s easy to forget she doesn’t technically have much character development. And to the film’s credit, I think Susan’s character arc is one of its best.

Anyway, the Pevensies hear a voice saying, “psst,” from outside. They glance out the door and see a robin, the first bird we’ve seen in Narnia, hopping up and down on a tree branch, chirping and seemingly beckoning to them. “Did that bird just psst us?” asks a bewildered Susan. They step outside and the robin flies away. In the book, the robin actually leads them quite some distance from the house before flying off, so distant in fact that they realize they’ve gotten lost. In the movie, it’s not even clear if the robin really was trying to communicate with them or if they just imagined it. Still, I’m glad the robin got a cameo in this adaptation since most leave it out and it’s very memorable in the book.

The Pevensies hear a twig cracking behind some rocks and the mysterious voice going, “psst,” again. Peter, Susan and Lucy draw closer together for protection, but Edmund doesn’t. This whole section of the movie does a great job visually portraying his isolation from his siblings. As with the reveal of Mr. Tumnus earlier, I feel like the music takes on a slightly over-the-top quality that gives away that this tense moment is building up to a comedic anticlimax.^[2]Well, it’s not an anticlimax in that what the characters are hearing is a big deal but it’s not something scary. What emerges from behind the rocks turns out to be a beaver. Peter bends down and extends his hand, going, “here, boy, here, boy.” The beaver stares at the hand before saying (in Ray Winstone’s voice), “Well, I ain’t going to smell it if that’s what you want!” I’m not a fan of this moment because in the Narnia books, C. S. Lewis states that talking animals^[3]He typically refers to them as talking beasts. can be told apart from dumb ones just by looking at their faces. Also, I’m not really sure if someone encountering a beaver in the wild would try call them like a dog or a cat. I mean, beavers aren’t as dangerous as wolverines or anything but they’re still wild animals. That being said, the contrast between the siblings’ different reactions to this reveal, with Edmund and Susan looking terror-stricken, Peter being embarrassed and Lucy just laughing, are pretty funny.

And it’s worth remembering this adaptation’s historical context and appreciating the animation of Mr. Beaver, as this character is called, and the story’s other talking animals. Previous adaptations could only have human actors in costume which didn’t really capture the Lewis’s depictions of them. While the CGI for the animal characters isn’t as convincing as that of Tumnus’s legs, I actually think they look more real than a lot of other CGI characters in modern family popcorn movies.^[4]I sometimes get the impression that modern moviemakers have just given up on making computer animated elements in their fantasies look real and solid. I’m so glad the first Narnia was made … Continue reading By the way, the book implies (and all but states) that the talking beavers are as big or bigger than the children. This is consistent with how talking beasts are portrayed throughout the Narnia books, but the movie was probably wise to have them be the size of regular beavers. They’d likely have looked terrifying otherwise.

Lucy stops laughing when the beaver calls her by name. He sadly hands her a familiar looking piece of cloth.

It’s the handkerchief she gave to Mr. Tumnus. “He got it to me just before they took him,” Mr. Beaver explains. “Is he all right?” asks Lucy. Mr. Beaver looks around warily. “Further in,” he says and hurries into the woods. Peter and Lucy automatically start to follow him. But Susan grabs them. “What are you doing?!” she asks in a muffled shriek.

Edmund: She’s right! How do we know we can trust him?
Peter: He said he knows the faun.
Susan: He’s a beaver! He shouldn’t be saying anything! Mr. Beaver: Everything all right?
Peter: Yes, we were just talking.
Mr. Beaver: That’s better left for safer quarters.
Lucy: He means the trees.

After exchanging helpless glances with Susan, Peter, along with Lucy, follows Mr. Beaver. The other two Pevensies reluctantly. As the sun sets, they arrive at Mr. Beaver’s house which sits atop a dam he’s built across a frozen river.

We’ve now come to a rare instance of the movie improving on the book’s writing. In response to the sight of smoke coming from his chimney, Mr. Beaver says, “Looks like the old girl’s got the kettle on, a nice cup of Rosie Lee,” which conveys more personality than just “it looks as if Mrs. Beaver is expecting us.” Then we get some dialogue similar to the book though not exactly the same. Lucy compliments Mr. Beaver on his home^[5]It’s Susan who does so in the book by the way. and he says, “Oh, it’s merely a trifle, you know. Still plenty to do, ain’t quite finished it yet. But it’ll look a business when it is done.”^[6]In the book, he just says, “Merely a trifle! Merely a trifle! And it isn’t really finished!” Mrs. Beaver (voiced by Dawn French) can be heard inside the house, saying, “Beaver, is that you? I’ve been worried sick! If I find you’ve been out with Badger again…” Her voice trails off as she comes outside and sees her human guests. “Oh,” she gasps, “those aren’t badgers. Oh, to think that I should live to see this day!” Then she turns on her husband. “Look at my fur! You couldn’t have given me ten minutes’ warning?” To which Mr. Beaver replies, “I’d have given you a week if I’d thought it would have helped.”

OK, let’s get this out of the way. I’m not a big fan of how the beavers are written in this movie. They’re the main comic relief, which is a bit of a stretch from their counterparts in the book, but I don’t hate the idea in the theory. After all, the literary Mrs. Beaver does have one hilarious line in the scene of her preparing to flee her home and a couple of fairly funny lines elsewhere. And what with the dramatic stakes having been upped and the characters about to be given their main goal, it does feel like the right time in the story to introduce new comedic supporting characters. I guess my problem is how cliche the comedy feels with the beavers being written like a stock old married couple. On reflection however, C. S. Lewis also wrote the beavers like a stock old married couple. (One of Mrs. Beaver’s humorous lines in the book is saying that Peter and her husband are acting “just like men” in letting the tea get old while discussing weaponry.) I guess my problem is that while the Narnia books do contain stock jokes about stereotypical married couples, etc., they also often display a more distinctive style of humor. (The wonderful character of Puddleglum in The Silver Chair with his weird combination of optimism and pessimism is the probably the greatest example of this.) This movie’s humor, on the other hand, even when it’s really, really funny, is basically all generic movie humor. And even when C. S. Lewis was making stock jokes in the Narnia books, they were still really funny. The bickering of the film’s beavers isn’t horribly unfunny or anything but neither does it bring the house down.^[7]From what I remember of the filmmakers’ audio commentary, part of the director’s reasoning behind playing the beavers so much for laughs was to get around viewers’ potential … Continue reading

Having said all that, I really do love the casting of their voice actors. I know that may sound strange in the case of Dawn French since she’s primarily a comic performer and I’ve just criticized the beavers’ comedy. But it’s arguably more important to have a hilarious performer when the writing for a humorous character isn’t all that hilarious and French. I also don’t feel like the quality of her line readings drops whenever Mrs. Beaver gets a serious moment, not noticeably so anyway.^[8]OK, French doesn’t give the most harrowing emotional performance ever or anything but it’s not like the movie was meant to be Schindler’s List with beavers.

The Pevensies find the beavers’ banter funnier than I do except for Edmund who remains sullen and suspicious as ever. Mrs. Beaver invites them inside for “some food and some civilized company,” the implication being she doesn’t consider her husband civilized. In a nice touch, Susan finds it easier to trust the practical, motherly Mrs. Beaver who is kind of her furry soul sister. She, Peter and Susan follow her into the house, but Edmund lingers outside. He’s noticed that the two hills the White Witch pointed out to him are within walking distance. “Enjoying the scenery, are we?” Mr. Beaver says, eyeing him suspiciously. Edmund doesn’t reply but silently goes into the house. This is a great moment original to the movie that establishes Mr. Beaver suspects Edmund’s treacherousness beforehand rather than just having him say he always suspected it after the fact as in the book.

Peter, Susan and Lucy are seated around the beavers’ dinner table while Edmund sits apart as usual. I’ve got to say the set design for this house is rather disappointing. It’s true that C. S. Lewis describes the pragmatic beavers’ abode as more practical than Tumnus’s, with no books or pictures, but his description also made it just as picturesque in its own way. You’d never guess that from this adaptation. Did the movie have to make everything inside the color brown? Maybe the problem isn’t so much the design as the pacing. This scene doesn’t really give us a good chance to look around the way we had with Tumnus’s cave.

“Isn’t there anything we can do to help Tumnus?” Peter asks. “They’ll have taken him to the Witch’s house,” explains Mr. Beaver, “and you know what they say. There’s few that go through them gates that come out again.” Mrs. Beaver, fearing that Lucy might be saddened by this news, rushes over with a plate of refreshment. “Fish and chips?” she says, proffering what appears to be fish garnished with woodchips. This may be a very brief moment, but it really irritates me. The book lovingly describes the meal of creamy milk, potatoes with “deep yellow butter,” freshwater fish and “a great and gloriously sticky marmalade roll” that the beavers give their human guests. The descriptions of food in the Narnia books are arguably a big part of their appeal and I resent this adaptation changing that for the sake of a pun and not even a particularly funny pun.

“There is hope, dear lots of hope,” Mrs. Beaver tells Lucy, referring to Tumnus’s fate, not the quality of the food. “Oy! We’ve got a right bit more than hope,” says Mr. Beaver. Then, leaning forward and lowering his voice, he says, “Aslan is on the move.” Now we come to one of the most memorable and lyrical bits of the book that is sadly kind of unfilmable.

None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don’t understand but in the dream, it feels as if it had some enormous meaning — either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare or else a lovely meaning too lovely to put into words, which makes the dream so beautiful that you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could get into that dream again. It was like that now. At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.^[9]This actually takes place before they go to the beaver’s house in the book and it’s implied to be part of why Peter, Susan and Lucy trust him while Edmund still does not.

The only way the movie could indicate emotions that specific would be to have each character say something like, “Wow! I don’t know why but when you said that name, I felt suddenly brave, etc.” And that could easily come across as clunky. Instead, the camera pans across each Pevensie’s face as music plays. Except for Edmund, each one instinctively smiles. I think that’s what they’re supposed to be doing anyway. But as much as I love William Moseley’s, Anna Popplewell’s and Georgie Henley’s performances in this film, their facial expressions just aren’t interesting in this moment. And while Skandar Keynes’s Edmund looks suitably wary at the mention of Aslan, that’s how he’s looked for several scenes now, so it doesn’t stand out much.

“Who’s Aslan?” he asks. Mr. Beaver laughs, assuming he’s joking, which doesn’t endear him to the boy. He’s astonished to realize the Pevensies really have never heard of Aslan. “He’s only the lord of the whole wood,” he says, “the top geezer, the real King of Narnia.” As a fan, I cringe at that “top geezer” line, given with what reverence the character of Aslan is described the beavers in the book. To the movie’s credit, I think the line may have been improvised by Ray Winstone. To the movie’s discredit, the improv could have easily been cut out and wasn’t. I do like the way Edmund frowns at hearing Aslan described as Narnia’s king since he’s after that title himself. “He’s been away for a long while,” says Mrs. Beaver. Remember what I wrote about Dawn French doing a good job with her character’s dramatic lines considering she’s mainly known as a comic performer? Well, that line is a good example. You really do get an impression from her voice that the citizens of Narnia have been regretting Aslan’s absence and yearning for his return for quite some time. “But he’s just got back,” Mr. Beaver explains excitedly, “and he’s waiting for you at the Stone Table!” Susan expresses surprise that someone important would be waiting for them specifically.

Mr. Beaver: You’re blooming joking! (to his wife) They don’t even know about the prophecy!
Mrs. Beaver: Well then?
Mr. Beaver: Look. Aslan’s return. Tumnus’s arrest. The Secret Police. It’s all happening because of you!
Susan: You’re blaming us?
Mrs. Beaver: No, not blaming! Thanking you!

If Mr. Beaver didn’t want that to sound like blame, maybe he shouldn’t have said it in such an angry voice. I’m kind of with Susan here. Anyway, Mr. Beaver explains that there’s a prophecy in Narnia.

When Adam’s flesh and Adam’s bone
Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,
The evil time will be over and done.

“You know, that doesn’t really rhyme,” says Susan. “Yeah, I know it doesn’t but you’re kind of missing the point,” protests Mr. Beaver. There are Narnia fans out there, many of them perhaps, who cringe at that “doesn’t really rhyme” line as much as I cringe at the “fish and chips” and the “top geezer” lines since it amounts to a joke at the original book’s expense. But I don’t cringe. Actually, it really makes me laugh. Maybe it’s because Anna Popplewell has great comedic timing. Maybe it’s because I hate eye rhymes. For me, it’s one of the movie’s best jokes.^[10]As a poet, I would describe C. S. Lewis as a marvelous prose writer. Returning to the scene, “It has long been foretold,” says Mrs. Beaver, “that two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve will defeat the White Witch and restore peace to Narnia.” In the book, there are actually two (sort of) rhyming prophecies, one about the children and another about Aslan.

Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.

And the one about Aslan is actually treated as more important with Mr. Beaver mentioning the one about the Pevensies and Castle Cair Paravel almost as an afterthought. (“The quickest way you can help (Mr. Tumnus) is by going to meet Aslan. Once he’s with us, then we can begin doing things. Not that we don’t need you too…”) This is problematic for Christian fans of the books as well as non-Christian who really like the character of Aslan since he, corresponding to God, is supposed to be the ultimate hero. For what it’s worth though, you could argue that the fact that Aslan is God makes it self-explanatory why his return to Narnia would be a big deal and if the movie had to cut one of the prophecies, it was more important to retain the one explaining why four random kids coming to Narnia would be a big deal. “And you think we’re the ones?” says Peter. “Well, you’d better be,” says Mr. Beaver, “because Aslan’s already fitted out your army!” The book actually doesn’t mention that Aslan has any army until we actually meet them. As we’ll see, the movie really expands on the military aspect of the story. I’m not overjoyed about this since movies about war don’t interest me much but, to be fair, it’s not like there was no military aspect in the original book at all and a few of the other Narnia books have an even greater one.

Susan reminds Peter that the whole reason they were sent away from London was to avoid war. (You’ve got to love that bit of irony.) “I think you’ve made a mistake. We’re not heroes,” Peter apologetically tells the beavers. “We’re from Finchley,” adds Susan as if that inherently disqualifies them. (I’m not saying that to poke fun at the movie. I think the movie itself is poking fun at Susan.) She thanks the beavers for their hospitality in what C. S. Lewis would have described as “her most annoying grownup voice” but insists that she and her siblings have to go now. “You can’t just leave,” protests Mr. Beaver. “He’s right,” says Lucy, “we have to help Mr. Tumnus.” This is probably the biggest change the movie makes to the book’s story. The literary Pevensies never really express any enthusiasm about being the ones to save Narnia, but they don’t really question why it should be them or try to back out of it either. Truth be told from here on in the book, Lewis treats Peter, Susan and Lucy like chess pieces and doesn’t give them much in the way of inner lives. That never bugs me when I read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe but I can theoretically understand the screenwriters feeling like it was a flaw. I wouldn’t say the fairly standard reluctant hero arc they gave the characters, mainly Peter, was necessarily the best or the only way to fix that though. Still, it’s not a bad standard reluctant hero arc either. Some of it is quite touching.^[11]And if the word, standard, sounds too judgmental, I’ll readily allow that there were plots and characters in the Narnia books that were also stock plots and characters. Those just aren’t … Continue reading Peter and Susan are a lot more likeable here than some reluctant heroes. They don’t act annoyed by the beavers or anything^[12]Well, maybe Susan does a little but that feels broadly true to the character from the book series as a whole. and since they don’t have any obvious superpowers, it makes perfect sense that they wouldn’t believe they could help save Narnia.

I also don’t feel like Peter’s feelings of fear and uncertainty in the movie are that much of a stretch from the book’s character. When he’s called upon to rescue one of his sisters in a later scene, Lewis writes that “Peter did not feel very brave; indeed, he felt he was going to be sick. But that made no difference to what he had to do.” Doing the brave and honorable thing despite fear is a minor theme in the book, as we saw earlier with the Pevensies deciding whether to try to help Tumnus or go back to their own world, one on which the movie expands, not something it pulls out of nowhere. It’s also worth noting that other good kings in the Narnia books express a sense of unworthiness when offered the role so this really doesn’t feel untrue to the books’ portrayal of leadership to me. And Lucy being the only sibling to instantly accept the Call to Adventure feels true to her role in the books too.

It’s possible, maybe even likely, that part of the motivation for this change on the part of the filmmakers is that they weren’t comfortable with the idea of the Pevensies deserving the roles of kings and queen just by virtue of being human and prophesied and especially with the idea of Peter deserving the role of high king just by virtue of being firstborn. Having the characters themselves question that was a way of making them more relatable from their point of view. You can definitely argue that C. S. Lewis was too enamored of the idea of natural hierarchies himself to convey their romantic appeal to anyone who didn’t already share his feelings.^[13]Though the Narnia books certainly don’t suffer from this anywhere near as much as That Hideous Strength does. You can also definitely argue that modern screenwriters are too skeptical about the idea of natural hierarchies and that their fantasies would be better if they just relax and accept them, if only for the sake of their stories. I can see both sides. There’s a school modern criticism that is skeptical of the whole idea of prophesied heroes, seeing them as lazy storytelling. I sympathize with this criticism, but I also think prophesied heroes have a poetic appeal into which both versions of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the movie and the book, tap.^[14]In The Horse and his Boy, Lewis uses the prophesied hero trope with the twist that neither the reader nor the hero himself learn about the prophecy until after it’s been fulfilled.

While I’ll defend this added character arc on the whole, I have to admit that it comes with some major downsides. Having Peter initially refuse to go to the Stone Table means cutting one of his most memorable lines of dialogue in the book, where he tells the beavers that he’s longing to see Aslan “even if I do feel frightened when it comes to the point.” The reason he might feel frightened is that in Mrs. Beaver’s words, “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.” In arguably the book’s most memorable line which is totally absent from the movie’s version of this scene, Mr. Beaver says that Aslan isn’t safe, but he is good. Thankfully, the movie will give us a version of that line towards the end, and it will be a nice moment though you could argue the movie won’t have Aslan scary enough for it to really make sense. Then again, you could say the same of the book. (Aslan’s scariness there is less about anything he does than it is the atmosphere his presence creates. More on this later.) Of course, there’s no reason the movie couldn’t have used the line both in this scene and towards the end. It’s not like the screenwriters are averse to callbacks. Another omission I consider unfortunate is not clarifying that Aslan is the one being (or possibly one of very few beings) that the White Witch can’t turn into stone. Without that established, it’s unclear why she doesn’t just do that and solve her main problem. Then again, this version of the story hasn’t established that she can turn anyone into stone yet.

Phew! Where we in the plot again? Oh yeah. Peter tells Lucy that there’s nothing they can do and that it’s time for them to go. He then turns around to see that Edmund has mysteriously disappeared.

“I’m going to kill him!” he grumbles. “You may not have to,” says Mr. Beaver ominously. “Has Edmund ever been to Narnia before?” We cut to Edmund making his way through the snow. As in the book, he’s left behind his coat but isn’t going back for it.

Mr. Beaver and the Pevensies are on his trail. They come to a stop when they see the White Witch’s house in the distance and Edmund about to enter it. I’m not a fan of the movie decision to have the Witch’s castle be made out of ice. It strikes me as obvious and cliche for this kind of villain. I’d have preferred a stone fortress like in the book. That would have been grimmer and fit in with her turning her enemies into stone statues. Stone also has certain grim connotations that ice doesn’t. After all, the latter melts and the former doesn’t. (I guess making her home out of ice is supposed to be a boast on the Witch’s part. “I don’t need to worry about it melting because my winter will never end!”) Even if the house had to be made of ice, I don’t love the design which looks more like a bunch of pointy ice shards stuck together than a building in which one could actually live. But, while it may lack grimness, the eerie light coming from the Witch’s house does allow the characters to get a good look at Edmund.

In the book, of course, the Pevensies don’t actually see him do this. Mr. Beaver just explains to them that he’s doing it. I actually love this change on the movie’s part. True, it’s questionable how the characters could run all the way to the Witch’s house, run back to the beavers’ house, pack and then flee before her police caught up with them,^[15]Actually, they don’t do that as we’ll see. but this way it feels a lot more credible that they would take Mr. Beaver’s word that their own brother could betray them and the visual of them watching Edmund, helpless to stop him, packs a real emotional punch. Lucy tries calling to him, but Mr. Beaver shushes her. Biting his lip, Peter starts to run after Ed, but Mr. Beaver stops him.

Susan: We can’t just let him go!
Lucy: He’s our brother!
Mr. Beaver: He’s the bait! The Witch wants all four of you!
Peter: Why?
Mr. Beaver: To stop the prophecy from coming true! To kill you!

They look back at the castle in time see the gates closing behind Edmund as he passes through them.

Susan lashes out at Peter. “This is all your fault!” she says. “None of this would have happened if you’d just listened to me in the first place!” I know there are some fans of the book’s characters who feel the movie sullies them by having them fight with each other too much. I guess this is an example of that, but I don’t really mind. After all, around this point in the book, Susan does say, “Oh, how I wish we’d never come,” which isn’t really an I-told-you-so line but, given her early suggestions that they leave, isn’t very far from it. And, given the characters’ terrible situation, it feels believable to me that they would panic and turn on each other this way. Peter and Susan look like they’re about to get into a really nasty tiff when Lucy interrupts them. “Stop it!” she says. “This isn’t going to help Edmund.” I love the irony of Lucy the youngest pointing this out rather than the older, more pragmatic and ostensibly more mature Susan. “She’s right. Only Aslan can help your brother now,” says Mr. Beaver. “Then take us to him,” says Peter before giving the Witch’s house one last look.

Next Week: Remember That Captain of the Secret Police Who Arrested Mr. Tumnus? We Meet Him.

Peter and Susan stop in their tracks as they find Lucy hugging the professor (Jim Broadbent) and sobbing into his stomach.

An angry Mrs. Macready appears. (“You children are one shenanigan shy of sleeping in the stable!”) The professor calms her down and sends Lucy with her to have some hot chocolate. Peter and Susan try to sneak away but he summons them to his office and not for hot chocolate.

Professor: You seem to have upset the delicate internal balance of my housekeeper.
Peter: We’re very sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.
Susan: It’s our sister, sir. Lucy.
Professor: The weeping girl.
Susan: She’s upset.
Professor: Hence the weeping.

Theoretically, as a fan of the book, I don’t really approve of making the character of the professor be this sarcastic, but Jim Broadbent’s dry deliver and comic timing are perfect, making this one of the funniest bits in the movie.^[1]The 1988 miniseries portrays the professor as a goofy, bumbling, childlike eccentric and from what I understand, so do many stage adaptations. That actually strikes me as further removed from the … Continue reading Also, as a fan of the book, I’m a little miffed that Peter tries to stop Susan from telling the professor about the Lucy situation, saying that they two of them can handle it themselves. In the text, Peter is actually the one who advocates getting an adult involved, saying, “it’s getting beyond us.” To be fair though, since Susan is generally portrayed as being less often right than Peter or Lucy, there’s something to be said for having her be the one who knows when to ask for help, making things more nuanced.^[2]You could also interpret Peter in the movie’s scene less as too proud to ask for help and more as not wanting his youngest sibling sent to an insane asylum.

The professor’s intrigued reaction to hearing that Lucy believes she’s found a magical forest inside the upstairs wardrobe clearly indicates the filmmakers had the entire Narnia book series in mind, not just The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Some fans might find the scene overly full of fanservice, but I think it’s fair to point out that C. S. Lewis hadn’t worked out the professor’s entire backstory when he wrote the first Narnia book and if he had done so, he might have this scene more like the screenwriters did. Speaking for myself, this particular fan enjoyed the service.^[3]In this context, “fanservice” means referring things that only fans will understand or remember, not anything to do with nudity.

Susan: She won’t stop going on about it.
Professor (awed): What was it like?
Susan: Like talking to a lunatic!

That line always makes me laugh. Anna Popplewell probably had the best comic timing of all the younger actors in this movie. Anyway, back to the conversation.

Professor: No, no, not her! The forest.
Peter: You’re not saying you believe her?
Professor: You don’t?
Susan: Well, of course not. I mean, logically it’s impossible.
Professor: What do they teach in schools these days?

That line was funnier in the book where it was something of a catchphrase for the character. (“I wonder what they do teach them at these schools.”) Peter points out that Edmund said he and Lucy were only pretending about Narnia. When the professor asks if Edmund is usually more truthful than Lucy though, Peter admits that it’s usually the other way around. “Well, if she’s not mad and she’s not lying, then logically we must assume she’s telling the truth,” Prof. Kirke says. This is his conclusion in the book too, but Peter and Susan brought up other objections to Lucy’s story there, mainly that there was nothing in the wardrobe when she showed it to them and that her alleged adventure took no time. I’m sympathetic to making movie adaptations faster paced than their literary source material but it’s unfortunate that it makes the character look less smart as they ignore obvious arguments to make. It’s also regrettable that the scene ends with the professor telling Peter and Susan they should believe Lucy on the grounds that “she’s your sister, isn’t she? You’re her family. You might just try acting like one.” In the book, it’s fun and surprising how the professor makes the case for believing Lucy with sheer reasoning and philosophical open-mindedness rather than appealing to sentiment. Plus, you know, Edmund is part of Peter and Susan’s family too and the professor isn’t advocating believing him. The book’s version of this exchange concludes rather unsentimentally with the professor telling them that a good way to deal with Lucy would be for everybody to try minding their own business. But I guess Hollywood can’t help itself from indulging in sappy speeches about love and family and good dental hygiene. Still, the movie’s version of the scene is still basically good in its way and, considering that it’s a dialogue driven scene, something that probably lends itself more to the page or the stage than screen, and one that isn’t strictly necessary to the plot, maybe Narnia fans should be grateful it was included at all.

We cut to the Pevensies playing cricket outside the next day or some days later. Edmund is preoccupied, doubtless by thinking about the White Witch and her succulent Turkish Delight, and gets hit with a cricket ball, something I’m sure we all enjoy seeing after what he did to Lucy. “Wake up, Dolly Daydream,” says Peter. Why the filmmakers thought expression from the book like “by Jove” and “Great Scott” were too corny to use but the modern audiences would accept “Dolly Daydream” is beyond me but oh well.^[4]I honestly do understand why the screenwriters didn’t use those expressions from the book since we now tend to associate them with comedic stereotypes of English people, not serious dramatic … Continue reading Edmund, probably trying to finagle a way to get back to Narnia, asks why they don’t play hide and seek again. Peter reminds him that he was the one that said it was a kids’ game. (Edmund didn’t actually say that that we heard but it’s easy to infer that he said it offscreen. The implication earlier was that Lucy was always trying to get her siblings to play hide and seek with her to their annoyance.) “Besides we could all use the fresh air,” says Susan. “It’s not like there isn’t air inside,” grumbles Edmund. That’s what I’d tell my mother when I was a kid and she pestered me to go out and get more fresh air.^[5]Though not those exact words. It didn’t work on her. As Susan says the fresh air line, she glances at Lucy who is apart from the rest of the Pevensies, seated under a tree and looking rather sad. This is a bit different from the book which states at this point in the story that Peter and Susan by avoiding the subject of the wardrobe had managed to reach an understanding with her. I can understand the movie feeling that this would have been too time consuming to show. It’s also possible they felt having the characters be estranged for longer would make for better drama.

Peter pitches the ball again and this time Edmund hits it, smashing one of the stained-glass windows of the professor’s house in the process. Lucy’s expression when she looks up suggests she’s happy to see him get in trouble.

The Pevensies go inside to the scene of the crime and find that the cricket ball has also knocked over a suit of armor. Before Peter and Edmund can argue about which of them is at fault here, Mrs. Macready-or the Macready as they refer to her-is heard coming and they make a run for it. In the book, the characters are trying to avoid her because she’s giving a tour of the old house and has instructed them to keep out of her way.^[6]A suit of armor does play a role in the book’s version of the scene albeit an inconsequential one. Edmund and Peter are looking at it “and wondering if they could take it to bits” … Continue reading I’ve read some fans opine that this change makes the characters sillier and considerably less mature than in the source material. (After all, it’s not like they can avoid facing up to the consequences for long, staying in the house as they are.) For whatever reason though, this doesn’t bug me. Maybe it would bug other viewers less if the movie made it clearer that we were supposed to laugh at the characters’ immaturity rather than playing exciting chase music on the soundtrack. I’ve got to say I love that music though. I also love the way no matter which direction the Pevensies run in this scene, they always seem to hear footsteps coming towards them, forcing them to change direction until they’re finally forced into the wardrobe room. This really captures the book’s equivalent scene which I mentioned in a previous post. (“Whether it was that they lost their heads or that Mrs. Macready was trying to catch them
or that some magic in the house had come to life and was chasing them into Narnia they seemed to find themselves being followed everywhere…”)

Edmund doesn’t stop running once they’re in the room but heads straight for the wardrobe flings open the door and impatiently urges the others to get inside. Doubtless, he’s thrilled by this unexpected opportunity to take his siblings to the Witch’s house and become king.^[7]Could he have deliberately broken that window to orchestrate this? Nah, that’d be crazy! This is actually a tad different from the book. There, once Peter and Susan start to notice that it’s strangely cold and wet in the back of the wardrobe, Edmund actually says, “Let’s get out. They’ve gone,” his reluctance to let his older brother and sister know of his dishonesty momentarily winning out of over his lust for power and Turkish Delight. I like that kind of complex characterization in a book, but I imagine it would have just been confusing in a movie where it’s harder to establish Edmund’s goals. Anyway, Susan expresses incredulity at the suggestion they hide in the wardrobe but ultimately that’s what they do when they hear footsteps outside the door. As the children squeeze in together, Peter and Susan fall backwards and land in Narnia. They rise and gape at the landscape in amazement. This may not be quite as magical as the scene of Lucy seeing Narnia for the first time^[8]It’d be weird if it was since we, the viewers, have now scene the place twice before. but that’s a high standard. It’s still a cool moment in its own right. In fact, this movie as a whole has a beautiful, childlike sense of awe and wonder.^[9]This is especially impressive considering that the director’s main claim to fame prior to this was codirecting the Shrek movies, much of the comedy of which was about deflating childlike awe … Continue reading “Impossible,” breathes Susan. (Remember that line for the climax.)

“Don’t worry,” says Lucy, “I’m sure it’s just your imagination.” That line makes her sound smugger and more vindictive than her character in the book. Some fans may object to that. What reconciles me to it is that both this movie and its two sequels will make Lucy the most idealized Pevensie, which she was in the books too but not quite to the same extent.^[10]In the cinematic Voyage of the Dawn Treader, her main flaw will be that she doesn’t realize her own awesomeness. Suffice to say her weakness in the literary version was related but somewhat … Continue reading It’s good to have reminders that she’s not completely perfect. “I don’t suppose saying we’re sorry would quite cover it,” says Peter. That line could have easily sounded glib, but I have to give credit to William Moseley (and maybe to director Andrew Adamson.) He actually makes it sound like a heartfelt apology.^[11]It may be significant that in both the book and the movie, Peter apologizes to Lucy, but Susan doesn’t. “No, it wouldn’t,” says Lucy before hitting him with a snowball, “but that might!” Peter and Susan laugh and start making snowballs of their own. It’s a nice, joyful moment. Edmund, looking sulky, refrains from joining the snowball fight and looks for the two hills the Witch pointed out to him. He’s interrupted by Susan throwing a snowball at him. “Stop it!” he cries, unwisely drawing attention to himself.

“You little liar!” says Peter. In the book, he and Susan don’t figure out that he lied about Narnia until he mentions that they should go near the lamppost, something Lucy never mentioned to any of them. I kind of enjoyed that since it’s fun to see Edmund accidentally give himself away after he’s been such a jerk. But I also understand the screenwriters feeling that Susan and Peter would naturally realize that he’d been lying once they saw Narnia for themselves. You could argue they tried to keep to the spirit of the book’s scene by having them only stop to realize Edmund’s duplicity after he draws their attention to himself. Peter insists Edmund apologize to Lucy. When he doesn’t, he moves toward him threateningly, Edmund quickly acquiesces. As you can guess, his apology doesn’t sound very sincere. “That’s alright,” says Lucy with a smirk. “Some little children just don’t know when to stop pretending.” Again, that makes her sound more vindictive than in the book though I doubt anyone watching isn’t on her side.

As in the book, Susan the peacekeeper tries to change the subject at this point. “Maybe we should go back,” she says. “Shouldn’t we at least take a look around?” asks Edmund, gesturing in the broad direction of the Witch’s house. “I think Lucy should decide,” says Peter, much to her gratitude. “I’d like you all to meet Mr. Tumnus,” she says. Susan objects to hiking in the snow in her summer clothing. “I’m sure the professor won’t mind us using these,” Peter says as he passes out fur coats. “Anyway, if you think about it logically, we’re not even taking them out of the wardrobe.” In the book, it’s Susan who makes that suggestion. It might have been nice to keep that since in both the books and this movie, Peter is portrayed as being right more often than Susan and this would have been an opportunity to make their relationship more nuanced and show a good side to her practicality. “But that’s a girl’s coat,” Edmund objects when Peter hands him the garment. “I know,” says Peter. The I’ll-Get-You-For-This look Edmund gives him is perfect.

We get a little montage of Lucy leading the others through the forest as the musical theme from the opening credits returns. It does a good job of showing that she and Peter are delighted with Narnia, Edmund is unhappy, and Susan is somewhere in between.

As they’re in sight of cave, Lucy is telling her siblings how great it’ll be at Tumnus’s. Her voice trails off as she sees that the door to his home has been torn off its hinges. She gasps and runs toward the cave.

I’m sorry to say we are now leaving behind the most consistently strong portion of this movie. That’s not to say that everything from here on is going to be weak. Some of it will be wonderful. But it will be a long time before we get as many scenes in a row that I consider great as we’ve covered in these first four posts.

Next Week: We Take a Break from Narnia for Valentine’s Day

Lucy bursts out of the wardrobe, not noticing in her haste that it’s still raining outside and Peter, whom you’ll remember was “it” in hide and seek, can be heard finishing counting to one hundred. “It’s all right!” she calls as she runs down the halls. “I’m back!” To her surprise, Edmund pokes his head out from behind a tapestry and hisses, “Shut up! He’s coming!” Peter does indeed come around the corner and see both of them. (This probably could have been staged a little better since it looks like Edmund had a good couple of seconds to pull his head back in first.)

Peter: You know, I don’t think you two have quite got the idea of this game.
Lucy: Weren’t you all wondering where I was?
Edmund: That’s the point! That was why he was seeking you!
Susan (emerging from her hiding place): Does this mean I win?
Peter: I don’t think Lucy wants to play anymore.
Lucy: I’ve been gone for hours.

You guessed it. No time has passed while she was in Narnia.^[1]I mean, you probably didn’t need to guess since this is a famous story. But let’s pretend it’s not.

After hearing her story (offscreen), they investigate the wardrobe but when they pull back the coats, there’s nothing but your average, everyday back of a wardrobe. Susan even knocks on it and so does Edmund from the other side. “Lucy, the only wood in here is the back of the wardrobe,” Susan says. “One game at a time, Lu,” says Peter affectionately, “we don’t all have your imagination.” Edmund just rolls his eyes in disgust. While the dialogue is different from that of the book, I love that the movie keeps each siblings having a different reaction to Lucy’s crazy story, Susan’s being more schoolmarmish, Peter’s more indulgent and Edmund’s simply rude. It’s a great way to demonstrate their individual personalities. They’re all about to walk out of the spare room when Lucy protests that she wasn’t imagining. “That’s enough,” says Susan sternly. Mature viewers can tell that her sternness comes from fear for her sister’s sanity, but Lucy thinks Susan is angry at her. “I wouldn’t lie about this,” she cries, aghast. “Well, I believe you,” says Edmund. “Didn’t I tell you about the football field in the bathroom cupboard?” Peter pulls him aside to tell him off.

Peter: Oh, would you just stop? You just have to make everything worse, don’t you?
Edmund: It was just a joke.
Peter: When are you going to learn to grow up?
Edmund: Shut up! You think you’re Dad but you’re not!

Edmund storms out of the room. “Well, that was nicely handled,” says Susan and stalks off herself. (I’m not really sure why she should be mad at Peter in this moment, but the movie wants the scene to be as sad as possible.) Peter turns to a rather small and pathetic looking Lucy. “But it really was there,” she says.^[2]And somewhere out there Candace Flynn nods and sighs in sympathy. “Susan’s right, Lucy,” says Peter, “that’s enough.” The scene is a great tearjerker.

In the book, Peter and Edmund don’t actually have a big fight until after Lucy’s second trip to Narnia. I feel like that made more emotional sense since Edmund’s misbehavior had been building for longer but there’s definitely something to be said for making him as mad at Peter as possible right before the following scene.

We see Lucy lying awake at night, wondering about what happened. Finally, she gets up, pushes aside a pair of bedroom slippers with her feet and takes out a pair of boots from under the bed, a great wordless way of telling us her plans. She makes her way down the hall with a candle. Edmund emerges from the bathroom in time to see her^[3]Trivia Time: Reports on early screenings made some fans worried that the audible toilet flush in this moment would be an example of bathroom humor but thankfully in context, it doesn’t come … Continue reading and, grinning, follows her on tiptoe. Because of the adaptation’s compressed timeframe, he hasn’t been mercilessly teasing Lucy about her story for as long as in the book and as a result doesn’t come across as unlikeable, especially since the movie starts off by giving him a sympathetic quality. (He misses his father.) Still, it’s not a completely whitewashed take on the character.

In the spare room, Lucy cautiously approaches the wardrobe and opens the door, scared she’ll find the same thing as last time. Suddenly, a gust of wind from within the wardrobe blows out her candle. The music rises ecstatically as Lucy’s face lights up and she clambers inside. This is fairly different from how the book portrays this scene, but I love it.

Edmund opens to the door to spare room just in time to see Lucy enter the wardrobe and close the door behind, leaving it open just a crack. He jumps inside, yelling “boo” but gets no response. “I hope you’re not afraid of the dark,” he taunts, closing the door all the way behind him. The book emphasizes the fact that Edmund closes the wardrobe door all the way, making it harder for him get out again, to show that he’s not as mentally superior to Lucy as he believes. Sure enough, he gets lost in all the fur coats and tumbles out on his keister into Narnia. “Lucy? I think I believe you now,” he calls as he wanders the woods. When I first saw the movie, I laughed at that line but also felt it made Edmund more of a caricature than he was in the book. On reflection though, I feel like it was necessary to convey that he dislikes admitting he’s wrong and only does so because he’s afraid of being alone in this strange place, something that might not have registered otherwise. And it is a really funny line.

Edmund wanders past the lamppost and hears the sound of sleighbells in the distance. Suddenly a sleigh drawn by white reindeer comes barreling out of the mist, nearly running him over. We can only see who’s seated inside for a brief second.

After the sleigh passes Edmund, it stops, and the driver gets out. It’s a dwarf (Kiran Shah) wearing a red cap with tassel but don’t get the idea he’s one of Santa’s elves. The first thing he does is chase after Edmund and pin him to the ground, presumably as punishment for getting in his way.

“What is it now, Ginarrbrik?” asks a beautiful but bored sounding voice from the sleigh. “Make him let me go!” cries Edmund. “I didn’t do anything wrong!” “How dare you address the queen of Narnia?” Ginarrbrik snarls. (This dwarf wasn’t given a name in the book by the way. When christening him for the movie, the filmmakers took inspiration from Nikabrik, the name of another evil dwarf from Prince Caspian.) “I didn’t know,” says Edmund. “You will know her better hereafter,” says Ginarrbrik, raising his knife. “Wait!” the voice suddenly cries urgently. The dwarf allows Edmund to sit up and see the inhumanly tall woman (Tilda Swinton) who has risen from the sleigh.

OK, I love most of the makeup work in this movie, but I’ve never loved the look of this White Witch. It doesn’t look as bad in this scene as in some others, but her skin doesn’t look so much white (“Not merely pale but white,” the book stresses, “like snow or paper or icing sugar”) as gray and the effect is less beautiful than grotesque. Her wig looks downright terrible and if they really couldn’t use the actress’s real hair, why not give her either dark hair to contrast with the white skin and polar bear fur coat or white hair to match them? Blonde hair just doesn’t go well with the rest of her color scheme. I can only assume they wanted her to have dreadlocks in the belief that they would suggest icicles. Her crown by the way is made of actual icicles.^[4]In-universe, I mean. I assume Tilda Swinton did not wear actual icicles when filming this. That wouldn’t have been practical. This differs from her golden crown in the book but I see the symbolic appeal of her crown melting as her spell on Narnia break and spring returns. Whatever problems I have with the Witch’s appearance, Tilda Swinton delivers in spades, bringing a very powerful screen presence to the role. She’s not exactly the White Witch from the book, being chillier^[5]Forgive me for the obvious and irresistible pun., more aloof and emotionally undemonstrative but she makes for a great villain in her own right. The Witch in the 1988 miniseries of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was performed in a very broad, pantomime villain way and in the 1979 cartoon, seemingly the only direction the voice actress received was to scream louder.^[6]I regret to say that since director Bill Melendez did a lot of great work for the Peanuts and Garfield franchises. I prefer Swinton’s White Witch to those though if I were directing my own adaptation, I’d aim for a happy medium between the two takes on the character as that’s the impression I get from the book.

Witch: What is your name, Son of Adam?
Edmund: Edmund
Witch: And how, Edmund, did you come to enter my dominion?
Edmund: I’m not sure. I was just following my sister.
Witch: Your sister? How many of you are there?
Edmund: Four. Lucy’s the only one that’s been here. She said she met some faun called Tumnus. Peter and Susan didn’t believe her. I didn’t either.
Witch: Edmund, you look so cold. Come and sit with me.

In the book, Edmund only tells the Witch all the information about his siblings and Tumnus after he’s grown comfortable with her. I feel like that makes more sense than the way he just blurts everything out right away here. Actually, this whole scene is staged quite differently from the book though some of the initial dialogue is similar. There it was the Witch who ordered the dwarf to stop the sleigh and angrily interrogated Edmund. The movie avoids having her come across as obviously evil right off the bat though I suspect the fact that she employs such a violent chauffeur tips off many viewers. (I suspect they also wanted to add more action to the story by having the dwarf chase down Edmund and almost kill him.) I hesitate to say this improves on the book since I never feel like the scene needs improvement when I read it. But I never wish the movie had stuck closer to the text when I watch this scene. (Well, not that part of it anyway.) The Witch initially looks and sounds quite neutral when she questions Edmund. Then when she invites him to sit with her for warmth, she sounds downright friendly. But when she turns her face away, we briefly see how frightened she really is by Edmund’s appearance in her realm and what he’s told her.

The Witch wraps a nervous Edmund in her mantle and offers him something warm to drink. She produces a little silver bottle and lets a drop of it fall on the ground, magically creating a goblet of refreshment. According to the book, “Edmund saw the drop for a second in mid-air, shining like a diamond. But the moment it touched the snow there was a hissing sound and there stood a jeweled cup full of something that steamed.” This obviously brings to mind a stage effect with the cup appearing in a puff of smoke, which is unusual for C. S. Lewis who typically used the medium of literature for things that would have been impossible (in his day anyway) for television, movies and the stage. The adaptation arguably improves on the description by having the goblet slowly materialize before our eyes and fill up with liquid.

Ginarrbrik hands it to Edmund with grudging respect. The Witch tells him she can make anything he’d like. “Can you make me taller?” asks Edmund. That’s a great line original to the movie as it reinforces the character’s resentment of his older siblings. The Witch clarifies that she can make anything he’d like to eat, and Edmund asks for Turkish Delight. She creates a box of it which the dwarf hands to Edmund. Ginarrbrik then throws away the cup (even though it looks like Edmund barely drank any.) It turns into snow as soon as it hits a tree. This could imply that anything the Witch creates is an illusion and not real refreshment just like her false kindness. Or, given the story’s Christian themes, in its original form anyway, it could imply that only God has the power to create, and the forces of evil can only imitate His creation. Or it could be the filmmakers just thought it looked cool.

The Witch tells Edmund she’d love to meet his family. “Why? They’re nothing special,” Edmund grouses with his mouth full. “Oh, I’m sure they’re not nearly as delightful as you are,” says the Witch. Hilariously, as she says this, she takes Ginarrbrik’s cap from him and uses it to wipe Edmund’s sticky face, much to the dwarf’s dismay.

Witch: But you see, Edmund, I have no children of my own and you are exactly the sort of boy who I can see becoming prince of Narnia. Maybe even king.
Edmund: Really?
Witch: Of course, you’d have to bring your family.
Edmund (disappointed): Oh. Do you mean Peter would be king too?
Witch: No! No, no. But a king needs servants.
Edmund: I guess I could bring them.

In the book, the Witch says she’ll make Edmund’s brother and sisters lesser nobles under him. The movie makes her playing on his pride less subtle with the whole servant thing but I actually think making a movie version less subtle than a book is fine sometimes, even necessary. I don’t think as much while I watch as I do while I read so there’s something to be said for clearly spelling out some things. To Edmund’s disappointment, the Witch takes the box of Turkish Delight from him and gives it to Ginarrbrik who happily finishes off its content. Some fans of the book have objected to this, feeling it contradicts what Lewis wrote about the enchanted Turkish Delight, “that anyone who had once tasted it would want more and more of it, and would even, if they were allowed, go on eating it till they killed themselves.” I don’t really see how it contradicts it though. Maybe enchanted snacks are also how the Witch keeps Ginarrbrik enslaved to her. While the movie, not having a narrator, never specifies that the Turkish Delight is enchanted/addictive, that still seems to be the implication because otherwise I’m really not sure what it’s purpose in the story could be. Later in the book, a character tells Peter, Susan and Lucy that Edmund has “the look of one who has been with the Witch and eaten her food.” If I were adapting the story and couldn’t use a narrator, I would likely include that line and then expand on it, having him explain just what that means. Interestingly, most other adaptations refrain from spelling out the Turkish Delight’s exact effect on eaters too, perhaps out of concern that it would give the impression that Edmund’s misdeeds were out of his control.

The Witch points out two hills to Edmund, telling him her house is between them. “You’d love it there,” she says as she gently pushes him out of the sleigh, “it has whole rooms simply stuffed with Turkish Delight.” In the book, she also tells him not to tell his siblings about her before he brings them to the house because “If your sister has met one of the Fauns, she may have heard strange stories about me — nasty stories that might make her afraid to come to me. Fauns will say anything, you know.” I wish this could have been kept as it makes the Witch smarter and, while it doesn’t exactly make Edmund smarter, it does show more how he’s able to delude himself into trusting her, helping us to-well, maybe not respect him but understand him. Edmund asks for some more Turkish Delight for the road. “No!” snaps the Witch before recovering her composure and telling him he doesn’t want to ruin his appetite. “Besides, you and I are going to be seeing each other again very soon, aren’t we?” she adds pointedly.^[7]This moment of the Witch losing her cool (sorry about making another obvious ice/snow pun) and then backpedaling is something of a tradition in adaptations of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe but … Continue reading “I hope so, Your Majesty,” says Edmund. “Until then, dear one,” says the Witch, “I’m going to miss you.” This whole scene is just as great in its own way as the scene with Lucy and Tumnus was in its. It does a brilliant job of making the Witch seem mysterious and ominous without making her too intimidating just yet. That’s going to come later.^[8]In the book, I’d say the Witch is supposed to be intimidating at this point, but I enjoy what the movie does here in its own right. The music is also perfect. It’s not the sort of thing you’re going to want to listen to outside the context of watching the film, but it really adds to eerie feeling that something is off without yelling at viewers to run away in fear.

The Witch rides away in her sleigh, leaving Edmund staring after it. He hears a familiar voice calling him from behind. It’s Lucy, who runs up and hugs him, delighted to have someone else who’ll back up her story now. Edmund pries her fingers off. “Where have you been?” he grumbles, wiping sugar off his mouth. “With Mr. Tumnus,” explains Lucy. “He’s fine. The White Witch hasn’t found out anything about him meeting me.” Edmund looks wary at this. “She calls herself the queen of Narnia,” Lucy says, “but she really isn’t.” We actually haven’t heard Tumnus mention that little fact about the Witch to Lucy in this movie, unlike in the book, so I guess we can just assume it just came up sometime during her second visit. Lucy also told Edmund a lot more about the Witch at this point in the text and got into more reasons why she was evil, which I think would have made more storytelling sense. I guess her tone though when she says the Witch isn’t really the queen is enough to convey the idea that she’s really bad. Edmund certainly seems to get the idea, judging by his facial expression.

“Are you all right? You do look awful,” says Lucy. “Well, what do you expect?” Edmund snaps. “I mean, it’s freezing! How do we get out of here?” Lucy leads him away. We then cut to her jumping on Peter in his bed in the middle of the night with Edmund and Susan right behind her. (I mean, they’re entering Peter’s bedroom behind her. They’re not following her lead with the jumping thing.)

Lucy: Peter, Peter, wake up! Peter, wake up, it’s there, it’s really there!
Peter: Lucy, what are you talking about?
Lucy: Narnia! It’s all in the wardrobe like I told you!
Susan: Oh, you’ve just been dreaming, Lucy.
Lucy: But I haven’t! I saw Mr. Tumnus again and this time Edmund went too!

At once, everyone’s eyes are on Ed. “You saw the faun?” asks Peter skeptically. Looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights, Edmund shakes his head. “Well, he didn’t actually go there with me,” begins Lucy, “He…” Her voice trails off. “What were you doing, Edmund?” In the book’s words, Edmund “decided all at once to do the meanest and most spiteful thing he could think of. He decided to let Lucy down.”

“I was just playing along,” Edmund says. “I’m sorry for Lucy. I shouldn’t have encouraged her but you know what little children are like these days. They just don’t know when to stop pretending.”

Betrayed, Lucy runs out of the room, crying. Susan and Peter run after her. As he passes Edmund, Peter roughly shoves him onto a bed, which I’m sure everyone watching enjoys.

Lucy runs down the hall and right into…the professor!

Next Week: Lucy Has a Surprising Ally but Can She Convince Peter and Susan of her Honesty?

When we last left our heroes, they were eagerly anticipating exploring the grounds of their temporary home the next day. We cut from that to Lucy staring out the window at the thickly falling rain. Ironic changes of scene aren’t a very original idea, but the book practically giftwrapped that one for the filmmakers. Meanwhile Susan is quizzing her brothers from a huge dictionary while Peter slumps in a chair, bored, and Edmund slumps under a chair, bored.

Susan: Gastrovascular. (Pause) Come on, Peter! Gastrovascular.
Peter: Is it Latin?
Edmund: Is it Latin for worst game ever invented?

In my last post, I described the movie in a somewhat finger-wagging tone as not using much of the book’s dialogue, so it’s only fair to say that I think that conversation works better than the one between Edmund and Susan at this point in the text as it allows the viewers to infer what’s happening for themselves (Edmund is bored and Susan is unsuccessfully trying to help him entertain himself) instead of just spelling it out for them.

Anyway, Susan slams the dictionary shut with a frustrated sigh. Lucy suggests they play hide and seek. Judging by everybody’s reactions, that’s a game that she likes but no one else in her family does. “But we’re already having so much fun,” says Peter sarcastically. “Come on, Peter! Please! Pretty please!” says Lucy, giving him the puppy dog eyes. I feel like William Mosley and Georgie Henley kind of overplay their lines in that exchange. Peter’s line in particular would benefit from a dryer, less elaborately sarcastic reading. Anna Popplewell and Skandar Keynes have better comic timing. Nevertheless, all four actors are great in this movie.^[1]And, incidentally, I have to praise the movie for getting right that some of the Pevensies have dark hair and some golden hair even though it’s supposed to be Lucy with the latter, not Peter.

Despite Lucy being in the minority, the kids play hide and seek with Peter being “It.” This is a change from the book where they explore the house at this point and play hide and seek later (with Susan being “It” by the way.) Part of me regrets that alteration as exploring a huge house like the professor’s was my dream as a kid, but I understand the reasoning behind it. Having Lucy search for a hiding place gives her a more understandable reason for going inside a wardrobe than if she was just exploring.^[2]Though you could also argue that it’s thematically significant that Lucy is the only one of her siblings who thinks it worth looking in something so seemingly plain and ordinary. And, hey, we still get a nice little montage of the house. The set design works great even if it doesn’t use many details from the book at this point.

Susan hides in a window box. Lucy races toward a curtain but Edmund pushes his way in front of her and then claims that he got there first, further establishing himself as a jerk and one who’s less mature than he claims to be. Lucy runs down a hallway and tries two doors unsuccessfully before finding one that opens. In a later scene in the book of circumstances forcing the children to take refuge in the fateful wardrobe, C. S. Lewis describes it as if “some magic in the house had come to life and was chasing them into Narnia.” The other doors being locked here and even Edmund hogging a hiding place have a similar effect though I’m a bit confused about the layout of the house.

This hide and seek montage is accompanied by “Oh, Johnnie,” a song from the 1940s by the Andrews Sisters,^[3]Longtime readers of this blog may have already heard of them. adding to the period feel. As Lucy enters the nearly empty spare room, the song fades away, appropriately as we are now leaving the “period” portion of the story and moving into the fantasy portion. The scene, which has been fast paced thus far, slows down as Lucy walks over to the object at the end of the room and removes the dustcloth, revealing a big wooden wardrobe. It’s obvious that something momentous is going to happen and you could argue that it would be better if the movie were a little more nonchalant about the whole thing and we related more to Lucy’s shock when something magical happens in a minute. But I won’t argue that. As someone who knows what’s going to happen and what a big deal it is, I love this scene as it is. The music is really spinetingling. Uncharacteristically but in keeping with the scene’s slow pace, the movie treats fans to a couple of minor details from the book they wouldn’t expect to be included. There’s a half dead bluebottle on the room’s windowsill and when Lucy opens the wardrobe door, a couple of mothballs roll out. Of course, the bluebottle was entirely dead in the book, and it was only two mothballs, not three, but who’s counting?

Less true to the book is the design of the wardrobe itself. C. S. Lewis described it as “the sort that has a looking glass in the door.” The movie’s wardrobe instead has ornate woodcarvings on the door. In another nod to the fandom, those woodcarvings are images from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe‘s prequel, The Magician’s Nephew. You could argue that having the wardrobe look plainer would be more thematically appropriate, giving the message that It’s What Inside That Counts. But, as a fan for whom The Magician’s Nephew is the best Narnia book^[4]Well, actually, it’s tied with The Horse and his Boy in my personal ranking., I adore this design. (And to be pedantic, Lewis wrote that the wardrobe was “the sort that has a looking glass in the door,” not that it did have one.)

Lucy steps into the wardrobe, which is full of fur coats, leaving the door open a crack.^[5]She also leaves the dustcloth outside, which means Peter could easily guess someone’s hiding in the wardrobe. Rookie mistake, Lu. She feels for the back of the wardrobe-only to prick her hand with a pine branch! She turns around and finds herself in a snowy forest. In the book, it’s also nighttime. I wish that could have been maintained since there are few things that look as magical to me as snow in the moonlight. But the movie’s version of the scene is quite a magical scene as it is.^[6]And it’ll turn out there’s a storytelling reason behind the time change. A lot of the credit for that goes to Georgie Henley.^[7]For this part, the director had her blindfolded on the set until the actual filming so that her character’s reaction to seeing everything for the first time would be as close to the real thing … Continue reading As Lucy, she has to carry many of the movie’s big emotional moments during the first third and at least a couple of big ones during the final third and she pulls them off wonderfully, especially considering how young she was at the time. Of course, credit for the scene’s beauty also belongs to the set design, the cinematography and the music. This is one of the best parts of the film’s soundtrack.

After looking back to make sure she can return to the wardrobe and the professor’s house, Lucy ventures into a clearing where she finds a flickering lamppost of all things. As she looks at it, the silence of the scene grows ominous. And then it’s not so silent as Lucy can hear strange footsteps coming. The scariness of the music gains a slightly over-the-top quality at this point though, which I think clues viewers in that this is the buildup to a funny moment.

Sure enough, around a corner comes a faun (James McAvoy) carrying some parcels and an umbrella.^[8]If you don’t know what a faun is, I’m afraid you’ll have to google it. These posts are slow paced enough without me defining every mythical creature. Both Lucy and the faun scream at the sight of each other and dive for cover. Then they cautiously emerge and approach each other. Well, Lucy does anyway. This faun is one of the most iconic characters, if not really one of the most developed, in Narnia and the movie’s depiction stays pretty true to the book’s description. Goat legs. Curly hair and short pointed beard. Horns on the forehead. Red woolen muffler. Umbrella. Brown paper parcels. The movie also has him carry a couple of bottles, possibly of some kind of ale, which isn’t from the book but fits very well with its description. It also gives the character goatlike ears which I find goofy but thankfully not too distracting. C. S. Lewis also gave his fauns long tails, something not characteristic of traditional depictions of them. The movie ignores this, going for the more typical goat tail. It’s also worth noting that the Narnia books describe fauns as having reddish skin and roughly the height of children. Few adaptations of them keep this and neither do the movies.^[9]The 1979 made-for-TV cartoon of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is the only one I can think of that tries to replicate that part of the books’ descriptions. Of course, it also gives the … Continue reading But none of those little nitpicks really bother me when I watch this adaptation, only when I really stop to think about it. On the whole, the movie’s version of this character looks and feels quintessentially Narnian. And the computer-generated faun legs are one of the special effects team’s greatest achievements in that it never occurs to me that they’re CG while I’m watching.

It helps that James McAvoy and Georgie Henley develop a nice friendly chemistry in the ensuing scene which is one of the most well written in the film, especially when it comes to humor.

Lucy: If you don’t mind my asking, what are you?
Faun: Well, I’m-I’m a faun. (defensively) And what are you? You must be some sort of beardless dwarf?
Lucy (indignantly): I’m not a dwarf! I’m a girl! And actually I’m the tallest in my class.
Faun: Do you mean to say that you are a daughter of Eve?
Lucy: My mum’s name is Helen.

Lucy’s failure to pick up on the faun’s awe and fear on learning her species/gender is great. After clarifying that she’s human, he breathlessly asks what she’s doing there. “Well, I was hiding in the wardrobe in the spare room,” Lucy begins. “Spare Oom?” interjects the faun. “Is that in Narnia?” I know I just praised this scene’s humor, but I’ve got to say that little misunderstanding was funnier in the book. (“If only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little Faun, I should no doubt know all about those strange countries.”) Lucy asks what Narnia is and the faun explains that it’s where the country where they’re standing, “everything from the lamppost all the way to the castle Cair Paravel on the eastern ocean.” Amusingly, as Lucy takes in the landscape, she murmurs, “this is an awfully big wardrobe.” (Lucy says a similar line in the book but that’s before she sees Narnia.)

The faun introduces himself as Tumnus. Lucy tells him her name and holds out her hand for him to shake but he doesn’t know what to do with it. When she tries to explain, she has to admit she really doesn’t understand the custom either and they both laugh. Your guess is as good as mine why Narnians would have so many things in common with English culture but not handshaking. This is still a cute moment. “Well, Lucy Pevensie from the shining city of War Drobe and the wondrous land of Spare Oom, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?” Lucy is charmed but hesitates, remembering her siblings back home who have no idea of her whereabouts. However, Tumnus-or Mr. Tumnus as Lucy politely calls him-convinces her with promises of toast and tea and sardines. “It’s not every day I get to make a new friend,” he says. That line is a bit overly cute for my taste but oh well.^[10]On reflection, given what we soon learn about the land of Narnia, it could be an indication of how sadly isolated it is from the rest of the world. As in the book, the two of them walk off together arm in arm, going from a woody area and to a more mountainous one and Tumnus leads Lucy to his door which is directly in a mountain. Once she’s inside, he looks around the area warily before going in himself and locking the door.

Props to production designer Roger Ford. Tumnus’s cave is charming and looks just like the book describes. When Lucy scans the bookshelf, I was pleased to even see some of the titles C. S. Lewis mentioned.

While Tumnus prepares the tea things, he notices Lucy looking at a painting of an old faun whom he explains was his father. “He looks a lot like you,” says Lucy. “I’m not very much like him at all really,” Tumnus says sadly. When Lucy mentions her father’s fighting in the war, he tells her his also went to war, a detail that’s not from the book but which fits in with what the book implies about Tumnus’s father. “That was a long, long time ago,” he says, “before this dreadful winter.” I like that in this version of the story Lucy counters that winter has its good points like ice-skating, snowball fighting and Christmas. Tumnus sadly tells her that for a century Narnia has been in a state of winter without Christmas, much like North Dakota in April. “But you would have loved Narnia in the summer,” he says as they sit down by the fire and he pours her refreshment. “We fauns danced with the dryads all night and, you know, we never got tired. And the music! Ah, such music! Would you like hear some now?” In the book, Tumnus’s stories about Narnia in the summer are implied to be a lot longer and more detailed than that but I can understand the pacing reasons they had to be trimmed for the film. Anyway, Tumnus takes out a panpipe and plays a lullaby.

According to C. S. Lewis, “the tune he played made Lucy want to cry and laugh and dance and go to sleep all at the same time.” It’s doubtful any music could live up to that specific description but what composer Harry Gregson-Williams does is pretty awesome in its own way. The tune Tumnus plays sounds soothing enough that you can easily understand it working as a lullaby, granting that Lucy probably wouldn’t realistically nod off as soon as she does if there weren’t magic involved, but it also a sinister undertone that intensifies as the scene proceeds and the viewers become more aware of Tumnus’s malign intent. The movie tries to compensate for cutting the faun’s more specific descriptions of Narnian life from the book by having him (apparently) conjure up images of them in the fire. I don’t think anyone who hasn’t read the source material will understand what they’re supposed to be but it’s still pretty cool.

As Lucy falls asleep, Tumnus glances at the flames and suddenly the whole fire takes the shape of a lion’s head that roars angrily at him. Then every fire and therefore every source of light within the cave is extinguished. The movie never gives any explanation for what just happened though we can make educated guesses once we actually meet a lion later in the story. It’s a great moment in any case.

Lucy wakes up to see that it’s dark outside the window. “Oh, I should go,” she says. “Too late for that now,” says a voice. Lucy turns, startled, to see Tumnus curled up in a ball. Apparently, he’s been weeping for some time. In the book, he cries for a comically long time “so that presently Lucy was standing in a damp patch.” I actually think what the movie does works better, feeling creepier and less ridiculous.

Tumnus: I’m such a terrible faun!
Lucy: Oh no, you’re the nicest faun I’ve ever met!
Tumnus: Then I’m afraid you’ve had a very poor sampling.
Lucy (handing him a handkerchief): You can’t have done anything that bad.
Tumnus: It’s not something I have done, Lucy Pevensie. It’s something I am doing.
Lucy (doesn’t like the sound of that): What are you doing?
Tumnus: I’m kidnapping you. It was the White Witch! She’s the one who makes it always winter, always cold. She gave orders if any of us find a human wandering in the woods, we’re supposed to turn it over to her.
Lucy: Mr. Tumnus, you wouldn’t.

Mr. Tumnus’s guilty silence says apparently he would.

“I thought you were my friend,” says Lucy. I feel like she’s a little too cute in that moment. Actually, if I have a criticism with this generally great part of the movie/adaptation, it’s that it feels more like we’re supposed to be looking down at Lucy and going, “aww, how cute,” whereas in the book, we see things from her perspective and regard her as an equal during this scene anyway. That may be an inevitable side effect of the visual medium. Since I’m an adult now and even when the movie was released, I was older than Lucy, there’s no way I’m not going to notice the age gap between us as I watch. In the book, it’s easier to forget about things like that while reading. It’s also probably because Georgie Henley was the only one of the actors playing the Pevensies who was around the same age as her character in the book, the others being all teenagers at the time, so her youth stands out more.

Anyway, Tumnus looks at Lucy, then looks down at her handkerchief, then makes a decision. He takes Lucy by the arm and runs with her back to the lamppost. “The woods are full of her spies,” he warns her, “even some of the trees are on her side!” They reach the lamppost. “Can you find your way back from here?” he asks. “I think so,” says Lucy, “will you be all right?” Tumnus bursts out crying again, and Lucy again tries to comfort him. This is a bit of a change from the book where he goes into some detail about how the White Witch will punish him if she finds out about his disobedience. The book explains all of the Witch’s most terrible powers as soon as she’s introduced^[11]Though not her role of executioner which will be very important towards the end of the story. whereas the movie chooses to slowly build them up. Embarrassed, Tumnus hands Lucy back her crumpled-up handkerchief. “Keep it,” she says, “you need it more than I do.” Tumnus assures Lucy that no matter what happens to him, he’s glad he met her, saying, “you’ve made me feel warmer than I’ve felt in a hundred years.” This clarifies something the book doesn’t, that Tumnus was actually alive before the White Witch’s winter. In the text, it’s possible that the stories he tells Lucy about Narnia before then were passed down through the generations but it’s also possible Tumnus, despite his apparently youthful appearance, was really over a hundred years old.^[12]C. S. Lewis didn’t actually specify that the winter lasted that long until the book’s sequel, Prince Caspian, so it’s possible he didn’t originally intend it when writing The … Continue reading After a final goodbye, Lucy runs off into the thicket from whence she came.

Next Week: Edmund Also Goes to Narnia and Receives Some Refreshment.

This is going to be my longest, most ambitious series on this blog yet. For the first time since I tackled the 2009 A Christmas Carol, I am going to be analyzing a particular movie adaptation scene by scene and in this case, it will be three movies and I’ll be going into much greater detail. I’m not doing this because I love The Chronicles of Narnia book series by C. S. Lewis, or three movies adapted from them by Walden Media in the 2000s more than other books and movies I’ve covered in less detail. I do love the books but not necessarily more than, say, many of Charles Dickens’s novels. But those novels are so long that even having read them multiple times, I can’t remember every little detail when comparing them with their adaptations. The Narnia books, on the other hand, are all fairly thin and tell simple stories but simultaneously have a mythology behind them and enough intriguing details and depth that I can write entire blog posts comparing ten minutes of footage from an adaptation to the relevant sections of the source material and make them interesting (he said hopefully.) The Narnia movie series also strikes me as having an interesting evolution despite only lasting for three installments. Suffice to say, it started out very promisingly and ended up…well, we’ll get to that in time.

I’m now going to do something I’m really not supposed to do at the beginning of a series: Give away my overall opinion on my subject, the 2005 film, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. If you don’t want it spoiled, just skip down to the image of the movie’s opening logo. The reason I’m throwing away any sense of suspense is that I’m scared if I didn’t, I’d give casual readers the wrong impression. Some of these posts are going to make the movie sound like one of my all-time favorites. In others, I will sound completely dismissive of it. That’s because this isn’t one of those adaptations that every fan of the original loves. Really, there are no adaptations like that but there are adaptations that the majority of their original’s fanbase loves. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005), on the other hand, captures some aspects of the book beautifully while not even attempting to capture others. Whether you, as a fan of the Narnia books, love it or hate it, is going to depend on which elements of them you regard as the most important, how tolerant you are of certain changes and whether you’re receptive to this style of filmmaking. Me, I love the movie-or at least I love large sections of it. But there are legitimate reasons some fans regard it as a poor adaptation and to accurately analyze it, I have to get into those too.

Let’s begin.

We open in a misty night sky as ominous music plays.

Then we get an even more ominous sight: German aircraft bombers circa 1940 cutting through the mist.

They drop bombs on the city of London below. We get our first look at one of our four main characters, a young boy called Edmund Pevensie (Skandar Keynes.)

His terrified mother (Judy McIntosh) pulls him away from the window and calls to her oldest child, Peter (William Moseley), that they all have to get to the bomb shelter outside their house. The youngest child, Lucy (George Henley), is hiding under her bed covers and crying for her mother. Susan (Anna Popplewell), the second oldest sibling, runs into the room, looking for essentials to save. When she notices Lucy, she angrily grabs her and drags her out.

Eventually these characters will be dubbed Susan the Gentle and Lucy the Valiant, so I like to imagine the director, Andrew Adamson, wanted to introduce them when they’re behaving, respectively, ungently and unvaliantly^[1]Not that I blame either girl under the circumstances. as a demonstration of how far they have to go. But maybe that’s reading too much into this. Anyway, the Pevensies race outside to the shelter as bombs rain down on their neighborhood. Suddenly, Edmund says, “wait! Dad!” and runs back into the house to his mother’s consternation. To her further consternation, Peter goes after him. You may think Edmund’s actions seem pretty reasonable if someone has been left behind in the house, but it turns out it’s not their actual father Edmund is going after but a photo of a man in an RAF uniform, possibly the only thing this family will have to left to remember their patriarch before long.

Peter pulls Edmund to the floor just in time to protect him from a bomb landing across the street.

The picture frame is shattered but Edmund is able to grab the picture itself before Peter drags him to the shelter, throws him on the floor and royally chews him out for his recklessness. We’ll soon see that Edmund is normally quite argumentative and snarky, but in this scene he’s too devastated to respond. “Why can’t you just do as your told?” Peter concludes before slamming the door and ending the scene.

I know that as a fan of the book, I’m supposed to dislike this opening since air raids are only mentioned in one sentence there, though they do set the plot in motion. It’s easy to be cynical and say the filmmakers only created this scene because they wanted there to be more action in the story and the first third or so of the book is particularly lacking in that. But when I actually watch the movie, I can’t care. It’s a gripping beginning that gets me invested in these characters right off the bat.

The next scene, which is much calmer, shows Paddington Station full of young evacuees about to be sent from London, bidding farewell to their parents. Among them, of course, are the four Pevensies.

Edmund resents having to leave and is sulking, even going so far as to tell his mother, “Dad wouldn’t make us go.”^[2]The 1988 miniseries of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe also portrayed Edmund as being annoyed over having to leave London and, in another similarity, also portrayed Lucy as reluctant to leave … Continue reading “You will listen to your brother, won’t you?” she says. Edmund doesn’t answer but his frown tells us everything we need to know. This establishes Edmund’s main flaw, his resistance to authority. He’s so resentful about this he even resists his poor mother’s attempt to kiss him goodbye.

She gives each of her children a last hug. When it’s Peter’s turn, she says to him, “promise me you’ll look after the others.” “I will, Mum,” he replies tearfully. I know as a fan of the book I should disapprove of all this. On paper, I find the scene pretentious, serving mainly to show off how much research the filmmakers did on the time period, and needlessly sappy. The circumstances of the children’s evacuation don’t really connect to the main plot, and we never learn in this movie what happens to their parents, so it doesn’t really go anywhere.^[3]By the way, it’s unlikely their father was a soldier in the book. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, which apparently takes place a matter of years after The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, … Continue reading But in practice, I love it. The musical score by Harry Gregson-Williams beautifully sells the emotion and all five actors give great performances. I especially love how Anna Popplewell’s Susan quickly hides her sadness behind a forced smile when her mother addresses her.

Judy McIntosh may only have two scenes in this movie, but does she ever make the most of them, helped no doubt by the makeup artists who make her look like she’s been crying regularly.

As the children get prepare to get on the train, Edmund again establishes his main flaw by angrily telling Susan (I think) that he doesn’t need her help and Peter comforts Lucy as she briefly breaks down crying, telling her, “We have to stick together now,” stating the theme of the adaptation. Clearly, subtlety is not going to be a major strength of this movie, but the unsubtlety works here. At the point when Peter is supposed to hand their tickets to the ticket taker, he is distracted by the sight of a young soldier, likely imagining what it must be like to be him. The more practical Susan has to snap him out of his reverie and grab the tickets from him. Interestingly, there was apparently no mention of the soldier in the screenplay where Peter simply fumbled with the papers like an incompetent and Susan rolled her eyes when she took them. Kudos to director Adamson for coming up with a way to make both characters more sympathetic than they were going to be.

As the train departs, children lean out the window to wave goodbye to their mothers, including our principals of course. At first, it looks like Edmund is the only one not doing so, further establishing him as the family’s black sheep. But then we see he actually is waving or at least looking back, but that he was tragically blocked from his mother’s view, indicating he’s not quite as bad as he might be and that the movie is capable of being subtle once in a while.

We then get a beautiful opening credits montage. The contrasts between the grays of the London station and the lush greens of the countryside through which the trains travels foreshadow the transformation from winter to spring that we will see the land of Narnia undergo.

This montage also establishes suspense as the Pevensies witness two other young evacuees get picked up at a trains station by a rather grim unfriendly looking woman.^[4]Cassie Cook who plays the girl is actually the daughter of Sophie Cook who played Susan in the aforementioned miniseries.

Our heroes are dropped off at a country station. (According to the book, the house where they’ll be staying is “ten miles from the nearest railway station and two miles from
the nearest post office.”) They hear an automobile coming and scramble to meet it but it honks its horn and drives past them. For a moment, they worry they’ve been sent to the wrong place but then a stern looking middle aged woman (Elizabeth Hawthorne) drives up in a horse and buggy. “Mrs. Macready?” asks Peter. “I’m afraid so,” she says.

Here’s something I love about the movie. Every actor is great or at least good in their role including the very minor ones. Elizabeth Hawthorne only has a handful of scenes as Mrs. Macready the housekeeper of the children’s host, maybe less, but she packs so much personality into her every line that she’s a joy to watch.

Another thing I love about is the movie’s production design by Roger Ford and its general art direction. The house of Prof. Kirke, which the book describes in some detail, looks exactly the way it should.

The few things we learn about Mrs. Macready from the book are that she wasn’t fond of children, she loved giving tours of this fancy house and when the Pevensies first arrived, she gave them a long list of instructions.^[5]The book also offhandedly mentions that there also three maids, Ivy, Margaret and Betty, working for the professor. As a fan, I would have loved to have seen them get cameos, but I understand why … Continue reading The movie doesn’t fit in the part about tours, but it does include the instructions. Her outraged response to Susan almost touching one of the professor’s “historical artifacts” is hilarious. It’s not quite hammy, which is good since it wouldn’t fit in with the rest of the acting in the film if it were, but it’s in that neighborhood.

Both the book and the movie build intrigue about the character of the professor at this point but in different ways. In the book, he greets the children and has supper with them, but this is not depicted in detail, and he’s described as “so odd looking that Lucy…was a little afraid of him and Edmund…wanted to laugh and had to keep on pretending he was blowing his nose to hide it.” In the movie, we don’t see the professor at all, and Mrs. Macready ominously instructs the Pevensies that “there will be no disturbing” of him, but Lucy hears his footsteps from behind a door and sees the shadows of his legs. She quickly hightails it out of there.

That night, Peter stares sadly out Lucy’s bedroom window while listening to a news report about air raids.^[6]The radio announcer, by the way, is voiced by Douglas Gresham, one of the film’s producers and the head of C. S. Lewis’s literary estate. Susan walks briskly over and turns off the radio. Then the two oldest siblings turn their attention to the Lucy who is clearly upset over what she’s heard, though she claims the only things bothering her are scratchy bedsheets.

Then we get this dialogue.

Susan: Wars don’t last forever, Lucy. We’ll be home soon.
Edmund: Yeah, if home’s still there.
Susan: Isn’t it time you were in bed?
Edmund: Yes, Mum.
Peter: Ed! (to Lucy) You saw outside. This place is huge! We can do whatever we want here. Tomorrow’s going to be great. I promise.

Now in the book, Peter and the others are genuinely excited about exploring the professor’s vast country estate.^[7]Though Lucy was portrayed as being creeped out by the big house and Edmund “was tired and pretending not to be tired and that always made him bad-tempered. Here they seem mainly scared about losing their home and their parents and unsure of themselves in a new environment. Presumably, the screenwriters, Ann Peacock, Christopher Marckus, Stephen McFeely and Andrew Adamson, felt this was more believable.^[8]For what its worth, Peter’s first line in the book is “we’ve fallen on our feet,” which implies the characters were worried about falling on their butts before they met the … Continue reading Since C. S. Lewis was actually alive during World War II and actually had young evacuees staying in his house during the air raids, I’m inclined to think he would know better, however unbelievable his depiction of the Pevensies may seem to modern adult readers. That being said, it’s true that C. S. Lewis was not actually a kid during World War II and it’s likely the kids boarding with him had things going on in their heads about which he had no idea.

There’s a larger point to be noted here since it’s at this point that movie catches up with the book, the conversation between the Pevensies on the night they arrive being the first fully described scene there. While it takes liberties with the details, the movie stays quite true to the overarching plot of the book^[9]It’s the only Narnia movie to retain its source’s structure. I kind of hate that that’s an accomplishment. and, for the most part, it stays true to the characters’ personalities too. However, it uses very little of the book’s dialogue.^[10]Though Susan telling Edmund to go to bed and him accusing her of playing mother is from the source material. The film was right to keep that since it establishes their characters very well. In this way, it makes for an interesting foil to the 2003 Peter Pan movie directed by P. J. Hogan, another family action movie from the 2000s adapted from a classic children’s fantasy by a British author.^[11]Though those who haven’t read either should know that there are also big differences between Peter Pan and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The former is much more morally ambiguous than … Continue reading That adaptation made far crazier changes to the plot and characters than this one and arguably put more of its own spin on the message.^[12]Well, you could argue the 2005 Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe highjacks to story to deliver its own message too to an extent, but it’s less noticeable. But it also included plenty of dialogue from the source material and even when it was doing its own thing, you could tell the screenwriters were trying to channel the spirit of J. M. Barrie. The screenwriters for the first Narnia movie seem to have really liked the original book’s story but had no particular respect for or interest in C. S. Lewis’s writing style.

This makes me hesitate to recommend the movie as an introduction to the book, but it doesn’t ruin it for me, mainly because there had been two radio dramas, a miniseries, and a made-for-television animated movie adapted from the material prior to this, and they all tried to use the original dialogue. By 2005, I was interested to see a different version. It made for an interesting experiment to see how the story held up without Lewis’s amazing writing. Actually, I have to rephrase that. While I love the writing in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the book, it’s more because of the descriptions than the dialogue, at least when it comes to the protagonists. (When I get to the characters of the beavers and Aslan, I’m going to take more issues with the script adaptation.) I’d still say the conversations in the literary version were better written than the ones in the cinematic one, but I don’t think changing them destroys the whole appeal of the original.

There’s something else I should admit here. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is not my favorite Narnia book. I love it just as I love all the Narnia books, but in a personal ranking, I’d rank it with Prince Caspian, which many people consider the weakest of the lot. I’m probably a little more openminded about aspects of this adaptation than someone for whom The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is the best or the only good Narnia book. Had the series gotten around to adapting my personal favorites, The Horse and his Boy and The Magician’s Nephew, I’d likely be a lot harder on them.

Next Week: Lucy Looks Into a Wardrobe