#also the cat in the hat live action movie is better than the original dr suess book no I will not take criticism on this either

[sciderman]

were talking movies? You know what I'm excited for? A live action movie of Brave. Truly believe it would be one of the best live actions.

i promise you that there’s never any context whatsoever in which the live action medium will improve an animated property by simple virtue of so, so much of the artistry being stripped from it by it not being animated. every frame of an animated film is literally a piece of art that’s been created bespoke. please stop discounting the animation medium. as an animator, it breaks my fucking heart. stop giving money to disney’s live action remakes I’m begging

[montyterrible]

At least 76% plastic

I’m a consummate defender of Ron Howard’s live-action Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000)—and, to a much lesser extent, Bo Welch’s 2003 Dr. Seuss’ The Cat in the Hat—not because I think the movie/either movie is particularly “good” but because they are at least not boring. They have an interesting chaotic and even gross energy. I guess there’s a case to be made for them having camp value since the ostensible intent was to mimic the iconic whimsy and color of a Seuss book, but the end-results are just trippy, uncanny, horny, racist, etc. Jim Carrey and Mike Myers are great as the Grinch and Cat, respectively, but I don’t think for the intended reasons.

Meanwhile, the 2012 Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax (another kids’ movie I skipped originally) is just boring and lacks even the off-putting (accidental?) artistry of the aforementioned two live-action movies. Watching it, I felt exactly what I’ve frequently seen other people decry about Howard’s Grinch: That it’s too long, for one thing, spoiling the pristine pacing of the Seuss original and the earlier animated adaptation, which is like a third to a fourth of this newer runtime. The difference is that I find stuff like the Whos throwing a key party delightful but think the many little moments of additional “whimsy” Illumination tries to cram into Lorax are unpalatable violations of the original work’s mood. The difference is almost purely subjective, of course, but I would still argue for The Grinch treatment being more interesting because it is such a wild, wide swing (and a miss). Meanwhile, the added stuff of The Lorax is very safe and sanitized and is just mostly comprised of goofiness that children would probably enjoy (trademark). It is, ironically, as texture-less and vapid as the corporate-controlled façade and endless profiteering the movie supposedly critiques.

One visual that I actually liked was the design of the very important Truffula Trees. Their colorful tufts looked so pleasant to touch (and maybe delicious). Their allure—to the animals, to the Once-ler for his “Thneed”-making, to the deprived people of the flimsy utopia of “Thneedville” as a symbol of hope—is perfectly, primally presented. And the movie kind of does justice to the aged Once-ler’s house, at least on its first appearance, when it’s meant to be ominous, though that feeling does not stick around for subsequent scenes or even for that entire initial visit once The Whimsy kicks in.

I have always been drawn to horror, and the Once-ler and his house as depicted in the Seuss book are early images in that vein that I still feel on a deep, subconscious level. I loved how the book reduces the Once-ler to just his long arms, keeping the body hidden. Of course, The Lorax movie as good as resents suggestion/implication and requires a maximalist telling to make the story fit the feature film outline. The child from the book’s frame narrative now has his own story that trades off with the Once-ler’s, and the two arcs muddy the waters greatly in terms of pathos. There’s a new, additional profiteering capitalist, Mr. O’Hare, to serve as an antagonist for the story, where the original book was more of a parable and less of a conventional narrative with such rote dramatic stakes. The way that it concluded so ambiguously by exhorting the frame narrative child (and, by extension, the reader) to be better than the Once-ler without ending on a conventionally “happy” note is part of what gives it so much force and staying power (and contributes to The Gloom that I enjoyed). I resent the movie’s de-fanging of the original narrative’s criticism by virtue of being too damn long and boring—Because the Once-ler’s story now ends before the movie does, he has to offer the exhortation/moral too early, so they also slap those words on-screen again when the movie finally does actually conclude, with the Once-ler and Lorax embracing as friends. The world gets better because Ted Wiggins cares a lot; you, the viewer, need not feel so terribly pressed to do anything.

Depicting the Once-ler at all is a mistake, and not just because his bland human design sucks all the mystery and fun out of the character. It also bungles his thematic purpose: He is the Once-ler, an embodiment of the mistakes of the past, passing his story and the hope for the future onto his audience. Who he was is unimportant (you could argue that he’s not one person so much as a whole generation and/or class of people), and what matters is strictly what he did (wrong). He and his name are allegorical and vague. We’re not meant to latch onto him and to instead find something familiar and relatable in the child as our proxy. By contrast, the movie now asks us to root for and empathize with the Once-ler as well, and now he’s a concrete personality who was for some reason named “Once-ler” by his parents, which is just extremely odd, even more so when you throw in the stereotypically redneck-esque brothers named “Chet” and “Brett.”

Giving the Once-ler’s audience a name and an arc further dilutes the thematic and atmospheric power of the book, as that nameless kid is now “Ted Wiggins” specifically and no longer all of us. Giving him a motivation for visiting the Once-ler is also bad. In the book, we don’t know all the details regarding why the child is seeking this man-person-thing out, but it works in a very emotionally graspable way: It’s the haunted house, the neighborhood hermit (Old Man Once-ler), a novelty, maybe a dare or rite of passage of sorts. It can, in its vagueness, work with so many different storytelling concepts or frameworks involving children and local spooky mysteries. Having this “Ted” go to the Once-ler because he needs a tree in order to Get With Taylor Swift just feels like sacrilege, on top of being more vibe-wrecking specificity.

What I will give this narrative thread is that I think Ted subtly forgets this motivation in the end in a way that I actually liked: When he finally gets to plant the seed of the last Truffula Tree in the center of Thneedville (after a sequence of animated Antics that includes a radical snowboarding granny!), he’s so lost in the moment that he’s surprised when Swift’s Audrey gives him a peck on the cheek. Shortly before that, he also borrows the Lorax’s language in trying to win over the town by “speak[ing] for the trees.” I wish there was perhaps more of a spotlight placed on this transformation—how Ted doesn’t really care about trees initially (they’re just a means to an end, like they were for the Once-ler)—but he ultimately realizes that the health of the planet matters more than some mammalian milestone. The arc’s there, but it could have been drawn out as a new explicit moral that could have worked with this slick, modern Lorax, as one for the Smartphone Age youth, as it were. I am ultimately saying that this adaptation needed to change even more to function properly as a successor to the original.

The very beginning of The Lorax lulled me into a false sense of hope regarding the overall package, as there’s a movie-original rhyming bit delivered by the Lorax to set the stage that I felt matched ok enough with the source material, but I wish there was more that felt so effortful about this re-telling. There’s some “clever” incorporation of Seuss’ original words at points, and there are also some musical numbers that did not impress me on the first viewing. I lowered the volume a few notches for each one of them, in fact.

I didn’t (and still don’t) think any of these songs needed to be here, though I’ve changed my mind about them feeling what I was going to describe as “perfunctory.” That “you feel every song in [the movie] as a song first and foremost.” The comparison I was going to make was to musical theater, where what you want from a musical number is for the sentiment it expresses or the way that it advances the plot or deepens the audience’s understanding of a character to feel seamless—When you forget that the characters are even singing because it’s such a natural extension of the storytelling that it sweeps you away. Some of the musical numbers in The Lorax are even staged a bit like musical musical numbers, funnily enough. That’s a certain stylization I can respect. And they’ve grown on me over time (and after a second viewing), which also parallels my experience with musicals like Into the Woods. There was a “hollow, like a dead tree” final pronouncement attached to this train of thought originally, but I’m going to amend that slightly: Like a stricken, dying, or dead tree, there are fleeting glimpses of beauty or old grandeur in The Lorax, but also those tell-tale dead branches and unsightly growths that tell you the thing is not totally healthy.

[a34trgv2]

Blue Sky Studios Was A Treasure

When it was announced that Blue Sky Studios would be closing its doors, not gonna lie, I was actually sad. I thought Spies In Disguise was great and was looking forward to their next film. While it is unfortunate that Blue Sky Studios is no longer in business, I think we should take the time to remember how they left their mark on the animation industry. Having rewatched all their films, I'm actually surprised how good, great even, they all are and even more surprised that they aren't talked about enough. So, let's fix that by going through them all in this post.

Starting off with a film I initially thought was good albeit a bit formulaic, Rio holds up much better than I originally gave it credit for. Blu and Jewel have great chemistry with one another and throughout the film I was rooting for them to actually be together. Nigel is also a great villain who just relishes in how dastardly he is and provides a genuine threat to our heroes. I also thought the songs were upbeat and catchy, particularly Hot Wings and Pretty Bird. Like I occasionally hum these songs to myself often and gladly sing along whenever they play onscreen. I also thought it was really funny, particularly Tulio who’s just so eccentric and over the top. What really sells this film is the way Rio de Janeiro is brought to life through Blue Sky’s amazing animation. Like dude! I actually want to take a trip to Rio because to this film alone.

Epic is an aptly titled film because it more than delivers on its concept. It tells a great story about the battle between the Leaf Men and the Boggans for dominance over the forest. It's full of intense action, well rounded and likable characters, sharp humor and really talented voice work. The action alone is worth seeing this film for as this film has some of the best action scenes I've seen in an animated feature film. It's fast paced, there's high stakes involved, and each punch feels powerful. I especially love every scene involving Queen Tara, so much so that I wish she was in the movie more.

Ferdinand is the only other film Blue Sky Studios was nominated for Best Animated Feature at the Oscars and for good reason. This is one of the best film about a gentle giant, in this case a 2000 lbs. bull who would rather smell the flowers than fight. This film is also really funny, has memorable characters and great voice acting, particularly from John Cena as the big bull himself. Cena makes Ferdinand sound like a caring big brother and really sells each line in the film. What truly makes this film worth seeing is the ending; no spoilers, but if you've read the original book or seen the Disney short, you know it's all sorts of satisfying.

If Charles Schultz had lived to see The Peanuts Movie, I'd like to think he would've been proud of the final result. All the characters from the classic comic strip and TV specials stay true to their core personalities and a given new life to the talented kids that played them. Charlie Brown is given a really good arc in this film in which he learns that the best way to make the Little Red Haired Girl like him is just be his honest, caring and unselfish self. Of course Snoopy is a show stealer and every scene he's in get's a good laugh out of me, but I particularly like his Red Barron story which is like a little film within the film.

Speaking of adaptations that probably would've made the original creator proud, I definitely agree with the general consensus that Horton Hears a Who is the best Dr. Seuss adaptation. Not that I think the other adaptations are bad (yes I have soft spots for How The Grinch Stole Christmas and The Cat And The Hat), I just think this film does an exceptionally great job adapting the source material in a funny and engaging way. Horton and Ned are both fully realized characters, with Ned trying to keep his sanity why Horton tries to keep the town of Whoville safe. I also really like how they made the Kangaroo the defacto leader of the jungle and basically make her a shrew who think she's right and Horton's wrong. This film also has some hilarious moments such as Horton holding his breath on the bridge and Vlad getting smacked in the beak.

Like I said before, I thought Spies in Disguise was great. It's premise may seem odd (a spy being turned into a pigeon as he tries to stop a bad guy is pretty out there) but the film itself is actually a great spy film with intense action, funny gags and well rounded characters. I especially love the dynamic between Walter Beckett and Lance Sterling because while they don't agree with each other's methods of stopping the bad guy, they do learn to compromise and work together as a team. I especially love this quote from Walter when he and Lance are on a yacht: "When we fight fire with fire, we all get burned. There's no good guys or bad guys, just people." I know people refer to the characters as the actors that portray them, but I honestly forgot Will Smith and Tom Holland were voicing these two as I was watching the film. You know an actor is doing a good job when you see the character before the actor.

I think Rio 2 is a good sequel to Rio. Yeah it would've been nice if it was told from Jewel's perspective instead of Blu's but the film we got is still good in it's own right. It's funny, the characters are well rounded, the songs are pretty catchy and Nigel returns to chew the scenery once again. This film also bring attention the deforestation of the Amazon and the climax is dedicated to our heroes stopping the deforesters. My personal favorite part of the film is Bruno Mars as Roberto, Jewel's old friend. Roberto feels like a genuine friend who's happy Jewel is happy and safe and rather than push Blu away he genuinely wants to help him fit in to the tribe. I also thought him freaking out before the climax was really funny and just goes to show that Bruno Mars has some good acting chops.

My personal favorite film from Blue Sky Studios is hands down Robots. It tells a really good story about pursuing your dreams even in the face of doubt and the film's main message resonates with me as a content creator: "See a need, fill a need." I also really like the characters, it's got plenty of hilarious moments and the voice acting was really on point. The true standout of the cast though is the late great Robin Williams as Fender. Every joke he made got a genuine laugh out of me and Fender is a fun and eccentric character that's also a good friend to Rodney. This film is worth seeing just for Robin Williams' performance alone.

I purposely saved the Ice Age series for last because this franchise is the studio’s legacy. No, seriously, for the past 20 years Blue Sky Studios has been known as the studio that created Ice Age. All 5 of the Ice Age movies made serious bank at the box office and yet most people just think the first one was the only good one while the sequels were either okay at best or tiresome at worst. Me though? I like all of them. Yeah, I think the first one and even the second one were really good, but I still really liked the other 3. I thought they were all funny, the characters were fun and the animation significantly improves with each passing installment. Of course my favorite part of all the movies was watching Scrat chase after that ever elusive acorn as they’re funny little sides to the main story.

👆Fanart by valentinefrench (https://www.deviantart.com/valentinfrench/art/Blue-Sky-Studios-RIP-870136771)

The big take away from this post is that Blue Sky Studios was an underrated animation studio that produced some great films during its 34 year run. Their films brought us into unique worlds, had well rounded likable characters, had tons of laughs and sent great messages to audiences. In closing, I would like to thank Chris Wedge, Carlos Saldanha, Jimmy Hayward, Steve Martino, Mike Thurmeier, Nick Bruno and Troy Quane as well as the 450+ employees for their contributions to these films. I look forward to all your future endeavors.

[dweemeister]

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953)

Theodore Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, remains best-known for his children’s books. The Cat in the Hat; Green Eggs and Ham; and Oh, the Places You’ll Go! are household names in English-language literature. Seuss’ bibliography overshadows his work in films, beginning with the adapted screenplay of his own book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins (1943) – directed by George Pal as part of the Puppetoons series. During WWII, Seuss was heavily involved in propaganda films and the Private Snafu (1943-1946) military training films. After the war’s end, Seuss returned to writing children’s books, but also continued to write for movies. The Academy Award-winning animated short film Gerald McBoing-Boing (1950) benefitted from Seuss’ story work, and Seuss’ success there inspired him to write a screenplay for a live-action fantasy film. That screenplay – the unwieldy rough draft coming in at over 1,200 pages – was The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. The eventual movie, produced by Stanley Kramer (1960’s Inherit the Wind, 1961’s Judgment at Nuremberg) and directed by Roy Rowland (1945’s Our Vines Have Tender Grapes, 1956’s Meet Me in Las Vegas) for Columbia Pictures, would be Seuss’ only involvement in a non-documentary feature film.

Like many who speak English as their first language, Dr. Seuss’ books graced my early childhood. So integral to numerous children’s youth is Seuss that his whimsy, wordplay, and authorial stamps are easily recognizable. In that spirit, the cinematic record of live-action Seuss adaptations consists of the scatological Jim Carrey in How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) and the visual nightmare that is Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat (2003). Compared to the original works, both films are ungainly, casually cruel, and overcomplicated. Not promising company for Dr. T. But even taking into account the three animated feature adaptations of Seuss – Horton Hears a Who! (2008), The Lorax (2012), and The Grinch (2018) – and the fact that Columbia forced wholesale deletions from the rough draft script of Dr. T to achieve a feasible runtime, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is arguably the most faithful feature adaptation to Dr. Seuss’ authorial intent and signature aesthetic.

In other words, this is one of the strangest films you may ever encounter. No synopsis I could write in one paragraph will ever capture the film’s bizarreries.

Little Bart Collins (Tommy Rettig) is asleep during piano practice and his teacher, Dr. Terwilliker (Hans Conried), is furious. His overworked, widowed mother Heloise (Mary Healey) intuits Terwilliker’s unrealistic expectations (Terwilliker wants to teach the next Paderewski) towards Bart’s piano skills and inability to concentrate. Heloise also appears to be quietly eyeing the plumber August Zabladowski (Peter Lind Hayes) and his wrench. With the lesson done for the day, Bart falls asleep again. This time, he dreams that Terwilliker is now the leader of the Terwilliker Institute, a pianist supremacy mini-state which is built upon five hundred young pianist slave boys (hence, 5,000 fingers) forcibly playing Terwilliker’s latest compositions. His mother is Terwilliker’s unwilling, hypnotized assistant and plumber August Zabladowski (Hayes is essentially playing the same character, but in a different world) is Bart’s only ally around. Together, Bart and Mr. Zabladowski must evade the Institute’s guards as they attempt to undermine Terwilliker’s plans for his next concert.

In its final form, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a muddled mess of a story. The analogues between Bart’s reality and his dreams are inconsistent, several would-be subplots never resolve (or at the very least develop beyond a basic idea), and the film’s initial lightness is subject to rapid mood swings that make this picture feel disjointed. Indeed, Seuss’ sprawling social commentary in his first draft – including allegories and themes of post-WWII totalitarianism, anti-communism, and atomic annihilation – is in tatters in this final product. The viewer will witness brief fragments of those ideas, remaining in this movie as the barest of hints of the contents of the original screenplay’s rough draft. Even now, Dr. T inspires psychiatric analyses and accusations that Bart’s relationship with his mother reveals signs of an Oedipal complex (to yours truly, the latter is too much of a reach). The grim nature of Terwilliker Institute renders Dr. T unsuitable for the youngest children. For older children and adults, try going into this movie without expectations of narrative logic and embrace the grotesque aspects that only Seuss could imagine.

If my attempts to describe this movie’s preposterousness through its narrative and screenwriting approach have failed, perhaps I can capture that for you by writing on its technical features.

For its sheer narrative inventiveness – inconsistencies, abrupt tonal shifts, nonsense, and Rowland’s uninspired direction aside – The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is nevertheless an ambitious film, and Columbia bequeathed a hefty budget to match that ambition. Much of that budget went to the film’s visuals. This is an extravagantly-staged motion picture, as nothing could do Dr. Seuss’ illustrations justice without fully committing to his geometric impossibilities: skyward ladders and improbable connections between rooms, an eschewal of right angles and straight lines, and architecture bound to raise the ire of physics teachers. One could compare this to German Expressionism, but Dr. T’s sets tend not to dictate the film’s mood nor are they subject to high-contrast lighting. Seuss went uncredited as the concept artist on Dr. T, and it was up to Clem Beauchamp (1935’s The Lives of a Bengal Lancer, 1952’s High Noon) and the uncredited matte artists to commit those visuals to the real world. Outside of animated film, Beauchamp and the matte artists succeed in creating twisted sets that seem to leap off the pages of Seuss’ most artistically interesting books. Some of the sets appear too stagebound, but the production design accomplishes its need to resemble a world borne from a fever dream (or, at least, a young pianist’s nightmare).

This movie’s outrageous costume design (other than Jean Louis’ gowns for Mary Healey, the costume designer/s for this film are uncredited) comprises absurd uniforms and two of the most ludicrous hats – the “happy fingers” cap (see photo at the top of this write-up) and whatever the hell Terwilliker dons in the film’s climax – one might ever see in a film. Most of the costumes are laughably impractical and ridiculous to even those without fashion sense. In what might be the tamest example, while working under Terwilliker, Bart’s mother wears a suit that is all business formal on the left-hand side and bare-shouldered, sleeveless, and nightclub-y on the right. The delineation of real life – which barely features in the film’s eighty-nine minutes – and this world of Bart’s dreams could not be any more unambiguous thanks to the combination of the production and costume design work.

The disappointing musical score by Fredrich Hollaender (1930’s The Blue Angel, 1948’s A Foreign Affair) and song lyrics by Seuss rarely connects to the larger narrative unfolding. Seven songs make the final print, with nine (yikes!) Hollaender-Seuss songs ending up on the cutting room floor. Seuss’ wordplay is evident, as are Hollaender’s melodic flourishes. Columbia, a studio not known for its musicals, assembled a 98-piece orchestra – the largest musical ensemble to work on a Columbia film at the time – for The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T alone. That lush sound is apparent throughout for the numerous nonsense songs that color the score in addition to the incidental score. It is unusual to listen to a collection of novelty songs orchestrated so fully. Listen to “Dressing Song: Do-Mi-Do Duds” and its complicated, seeming unsingable lines:

Come on and dress me, dress me, dress me In my peek-a-boo blouse With the lovely inner lining made of Chesapeake mouse! I want my polka-dotted dickie with the crinoline fringe For I'm going doe-me-doe-ing on a doe-me-doe binge!

The rich orchestration seems to hail from a more lavish film. But too many of these songs are scene-specific, and rarely does Hollaender utilize musical quotations from these songs into his score. “Get Together Weather” is delightful, but it seems so isolated from the rest of the film; elsewhere, “The Dungeon Song” exemplifies a macabre side to Seuss seldom appearing in his books. Nevertheless, Hollaender is able to demonstrate his playfulness across the entire film, none moreso during any scene with the bearded, roller-skating twins and the “Dungeon Ballet”, in which the music complements stunning choreography and fascinating props that recall the jingtinglers, floofloovers, tartookas, whohoopers, slooslunkas, and whowonkas from the Christmas television special How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (1966). Yet, Hollaender’s film score and the soundtrack with Seuss seems to demand something – anything – to tie the entire compositional effort together. Perhaps a song or some cue like that was cut from the film, which is ultimately to its detriment.

Hans Conried (who starred as Captain Hook in Disney’s Peter Pan several months prior to Dr. T’s release) stands out from a decidedly average Peter Lind Hayes and Mary Healey – Hayes and Healey, in a sort of in-joke, were married. Conried’s performance as the sadistic, torture- and imprisonment-happy music teacher can be considered camp, but this is anything but “bad” camp. He throws himself completely into this cartoonish role, sans shame, complete with mid-Atlantic accent, and topped off with exaggerated facial and physical acting that fits this fantasy. As Bart, child actor Tommy Rettig (best known as Jeff Miller on the CBS television series Lassie) seems more assured in his performance than most child performers his age during the 1950s. His fourth wall-breaking asides seem more appropriate in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but Rettig makes it work, and inhabits Bart’s flaws wonderfully.

Columbia demanded numerous reworkings of Seuss’ script, leading to several reshoots – most notably the opening scene (Seuss opposed the conceit of Bart’s dream framing the film) – and a ballooning budget. Upon its release in the summer of 1953, The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T bombed at the box office and was assailed by critics. A crestfallen Seuss, who could not stand the production difficulties that beset the film from the start of shooting, would never work in feature films again. He would dedicate himself almost entirely to writing and illustrating children’s books, with many of his most popular titles (including The Cat in the Hat, One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, and Green Eggs and Ham) published within a decade of Dr. T’s critical and commercial failure. His hesitance to participate in filmmaking informed his reluctance to allow Chuck Jones to adapt How the Grinch Stole Christmas! thirteen years later. Animation suited his books, Seuss thought, and he would never again pay any consideration to live-action filmmaking.

The reevaluation of The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T has seen a rehabilitation of the film’s image in recent decades. Home media releases and television showings have introduced the film to viewers not influenced by the hyperbolic negativity of the film critics working in 1953. This is not a sterling example of Old Hollywood fantasy filmmaking, due to a heavily gutted screenplay, scattershot thematic development, and incongruent musical score. Yet, the movie’s surrealistic charms and Seussian chaos know no peers, even in the present day.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

[fanbun]

Seuss Tales: From Page To Screen

Below the cut is an essay I wrote about Dr. Seuss adaptations after I was inspired by watching Green Eggs and Ham on Netflix. In the essay I examine the changes that adaptations have made to the original stories and how they have evolved over time. If you’re interested, please give it a read! :D

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The tone of a Dr. Seuss book has proven particularly difficult to reproduce in any lengthened retelling. It is much like attempting to expand a poem into a novel. Somewhere during development, the original form will fall away to fit the new medium. And while artifacts of the original may still be present in the final product, such as a line or two, it is likely that those artifacts will feel disconnected from the product as a whole. In terms of Seuss, this is usually classic rhymes from the original stories that the audience expects to be included in the adaptation. Even if an audience member has had little exposure to the source material, they can usually identify these moments when a character starts rhyming for no particular reason. Of course, it must be said that some adaptations mimic the original tone better than others, and in those cases the product feels much more cohesive.

Since it is so difficult to expand a short story, the safest decision when making an adaptation is simply to be faithful. In the past, Seuss adaptations stuck much closer to the source material. How The Grinch Stole Christmas (1966) set the standard for the many Seuss TV specials that came after it. These specials utilized a narrator that would read the book nearly word-for-word and had an animation style that stuck as close to the original illustrations as possible. Where padding was necessary to extend the run-time, it was usually done by including songs and extra animation sequences. This form of padding didn’t typically disrupt the flow of the story since the songs featured rhyming in them as well, and the added animations were used to bring Seuss’s world to life. Dr. Seuss himself even wrote the lyrics to many of the songs. Thus these first Seuss TV specials were as close to direct adaptations as the public was ever given.

So when did the trend change? Well Seuss died in 1991 and in the year 2000, a live action comedy film starring Jim Carrey was released based off of How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Ironically, the very same title that started the initial animated Seuss renaissance. It was not only the first feature length film based on a Dr. Seuss property, but it was also a major financial success as it offered a new take on the familiar story. After all, the original animated special was already so beloved. The producers had to try something new to entice people to go see it. So what was created was a movie about the character of the Grinch, that followed the general story of the Grinch, but was entirely divorced from the classic tone and presentation of a Dr. Seuss book. Additionally, it made alterations to the characters and plot in an attempt to add depth and expand upon the story. This live action Seuss trend didn’t last for long, however, and it came to an end after The Cat in The Hat (2003) left a poor taste in the public’s mouth.

Jim Carrey would later return to voice the quirky titular elephant of Blue Sky’s Horton Hears a Who in 2008. This time animation was back in the form of trendy CG. The humor was modern but not quite as edgy as in the live action movies, and the trailers promised a more authentic Seuss experience for the youth at the time. Though the age of CG animated movies was an attempt to return to form, they couldn’t escape the adaptational dilemma of trying to stretch short stories into full movies. Horton Hears a Who (2008) remained faithful to the book’s plot but was padded with plenty of gags that tended to outstay their welcome. In contrast, Illumination’s The Lorax (2012) padded its run-time by expanding on the Onceler’s character and introducing new characters, including an all new antagonist. This, although showing clear ambition, ended up being a controversial decision as many viewed it as obscuring the book’s intended message.

Interestingly, Netflix’s Green Eggs and Ham series (2019) is mostly padding. In fact, there is hardly anything in the show that resembles the original book aside from the two main characters, Sam-I-Am and “Guy”, and the aforementioned Sam’s affinity for green eggs and ham. And yet it manages to feel more like a Seuss story than many of the adaptations that have come before it. No doubt this is partly due to its traditional 2D animation style, though the inclusion of many Seussian creatures and contraptions should not be overlooked as an important factor. It is terrible as a direct adaptation, but as an expanded retelling it is brilliant. The writers were given a book so simplistic, with such a straightforward moral, that they only needed to follow it loosely to deliver on its message. They took a couple characters, a handful of words, and rewrote it almost entirely. And really, that was the only smart choice for a series that spans 6 1/2 hours in total.

One of the most drastic departures from the book was the decision to make the plot revolve around Guy and Sam smuggling an exotic animal (named Mr. Jenkins) in a briefcase to return it to the wild. This concept alone turns it into a completely different story. So much so that I’d argue the title of “Green Eggs and Ham” hardly fits as a descriptor. Still, the theme of animal protection is entirely in line with the types of morals found in Dr. Seuss books. This recurring message is made even more evident since the villains work for a serial animal abuser who keeps live animals on display as status symbols. I could have easily imagined that a separate Dr. Seuss story existed with this same plot.

But what is perhaps most interesting to me about the rewrite is that, along with convincingly portraying a story based on Dr. Seuss, it also adds its own modern sensibilities into the mix. Not merely by way of adding humor and references like some adaptations before it, but through the story’s structure itself. First of all, it is a multi-episode animated series with emphasis on continuity. Secondly, it fleshes out the personalities and backstories of the characters over time. And thirdly, it at once represents and transforms the source material in something of a metatextual exercise. The narrator’s tendency of breaking the fourth wall is a perfect example of this. He even acts as an audience stand-in at times, commenting that he wasn’t expecting to see the events that occur during the opening scene from a Seuss adaptation. Or at another point humorously asking “Was this in the book?” This brand of meta comedy made me take note of the more daring writing choices like the shocking reveals about Sam and the B.A.D.G.U.Y.S. toward the end of the season. Once again, the writers deliberately added complexity where there was originally very little.

Crucially for fans of the book, the rewrite doesn’t betray the original moral of Green Eggs and Ham. Rather it adds a layer of depth to that moral’s execution. In the book, the plate of green eggs and ham represents the characters’ willingness to try new things. It is the same in the series, however the unexpected journey the two leads embark on is what is given the most narrative focus. After leaving his comfort zone, Guy’s emotional attachment to Sam is what makes him finally try the green eggs and ham. It is a symbolic gesture of how far his character has come from the beginning of the show. He initially wanted nothing to do with Sam or Mr. Jenkins, but then he got to know them and discovered how much he cared.

So although it is risky to create an adaptation that changes much of the source material, it can absolutely be worth the risk. There is boundless creative potential to be found in transformative works, and that potential may be realized if given the right amount of passion and dedication. Sure, it might upset the purist in us, but the original already exists. Why not make something new out of it? Cut up pieces of the poem. Rearrange the words and add a new perspective. Some people will always consider doing so to be ruining a classic, but others might view it as a masterpiece all on its own. In the end it is up to personal opinion whether an adaptation is good or not, but nonetheless I think we should celebrate the cultural significance of these stories that leads us to recreate and retell them time and time again.

[upontheshelfreviews]

I expected this movie to have a few votes from those who remembered it as kids. I never expected it to win by a landslide. Lesson learned: never underestimate a nostalgic kids’ movie from the ’90s.

Once upon a time, David Kirschner, producer of An American Tail among other things, took his daughters to the New York Public Library. This visit inspired him to write a story about a fantastical adventure that would get kids excited about reading. The result was The Pagemaster, a 1994 box-office bomb that would go on to develop a cult following among children like me who grew up watching it. Animation historians tend to lump The Pagemaster in with the likes of Thumbelina or Quest For Camelot: 90s features that tried to coast off the success of Disney’s Renaissance films yet failed to match their caliber. But actually, trailers for The Pagemaster played in theaters and on home video a good four years before the movie was released…it was still in production for most of that time so the amount of influence Disney had on it is up for debate, but the point remains. I’m willing to bet what played a major part in its delay was the myriad of problems that cropped up during the filmmaking, from David Kirschner suing the Writers Guild of America for not receiving the sole story credit he felt was owed, to the plot being rewritten in the middle of the animation process, which is never a good thing. I’ve also heard stories about Macaulay Culkin being a diva on set, but knowing what we know now about his abusive father explains a lot so I’m not holding that against him.

And here’s another fun fact I dug up while doing my research: apparently Stephen King of all people wrote the treatment for The Pagemaster, which certainly explains the film’s more horrific elements. Does this means this movie is technically part of the King multiverse? I can see Richard hanging out with The Losers Club on weekends and trying to avoid killer clowns and langoliers in his spare time.

Though it was released under the 20th Century Fox banner, The Pagemaster was the first of only two animated films created by Turner Feature Animation, an off-shoot of Hanna-Barbera founded by media mogul Ted Turner. In hindsight, it’s not surprising that Turner had a hand in this children’s flick with an educational message. Let’s not forget the last animated project he invested himself in was all about teaching kids environmentalism in the cheesiest way possible.

But unlike Captain Planet, does The Pagemaster hold up after all these years? Will it get kids sucked into the magic of reading? And how long can I go without forcing in a Home Alone reference? Read on and find out.

The opening credits fade in over clouds swirling into foreshadowing images while the stirring main theme by James Horner plays. Say what you want about this movie, Horner’s score emerges smelling like a rose, easily the best thing to come from this film. Disney’s even used it for some of their trailers. Also, when you take the bulk of the cast into consideration, it’s astonishingly appropriate that the man who scored The Wrath of Kahn provided the soundtrack for this feature.

The ominous call-forward clouds are part of a nightmare that our protagonist, a typical 90s nerd named Richard Tyler (Macaulay Culkin) startles awake from. He crawls out of bed and overhears his parents (Ed Begley Jr. and Mel Harris) discussing their son’s neuroses. See, it’s not enough that Richard is a nerd; he’s also afraid of everything that casts a shadow. His room is plastered with safety precautions, he studies all manner of deathly statistics to the point where he can recite them at the drop of a hat and is considered a general buzzkill by all who know him, especially his father. This is where we come to our first bump in the road, and it’s not just that Richard acts in a way that no kid would, not even scaredy-cat kids like Chuckie Finster: it’s the moral they’re trying to set up.

The Pagemaster’s original screenplay was about a boy who didn’t like reading and learned to love it, but there were many rewrites during production that altered it so it’s about Richard learning to overcome his fears through the power of books. That makes the point rather redundant – why teach someone who’s already a bookworm to love books? I argue that it’s about snapping Richard out of his obsession over statistics and panic-inducing facts that are holding him back from living a fulfilling life, and finding courage and meaning from beloved stories instead. Not a terrible lesson, but one that could have been communicated better. In fact, such a moral would be much more suited for today; with the constant stream of news updates through the internet leading to anxiety over everything, turning away from devices for a while and finding solace through well-written fiction is a decent message. And I’m not saying that kids today shouldn’t be aware of big issues our planet faces – look at Greta Thunberg – but if you’re suffering from borderline pantophobia, then maybe seeking some escapism through print (and also finding a therapist) is a good place to start.

Mr. Tyler is building his son a treehouse in order to help him get over his fear of heights. Richard, of course, refuses to have anything to do with it and states some statistics about ladders and household accidents. He then unwittingly hits his dad in the head with a bucket which causes him to have an accident and fall out of the treehouse, thus proving his point. Honestly, I’d have more respect for Richard if he did it on purpose just to validate himself. What a grade-A troll he’d make.

Eager to get his son out of his hair, Mr. Tyler tasks him with picking up some nails from the hardware store. Richard takes his bike, both covered in so much superfluous safety gear that he looks like he’s ready to go policing in a sci-fi dystopia.

“I am THE LAW!”

And yes, you read that credit correctly. Joe Johnston, director of The Rocketeer and the first Captain America movie directed the live-action segments of The Pagemaster. From what I’ve gathered, he’s not too pleased to have his name attached to this project. I suppose he’s upset that he couldn’t have his credit changed to Alan Smithee.

On his way into town, Richard passes some kids riding their bikes off a construction ramp. They try to goad him into joining them and call him chicken when he doesn’t, just in case you didn’t catch what his character arc will be. Richard continues forward, and if you think Maurice’s trip to the fair went south in Beauty and the Beast, then you haven’t watched this movie. Lightning strikes the power lines, he’s forced through a tunnel where the lights explode in succession after him, and he gets lost in a dark, creepy park during a storm. I’m almost tempted to say the movie is trying to kill him.

Richard crashes his bike in front of the most ominous library outside of a Ghostbusters movie and seeks shelter there. The only person inside is eccentric old librarian Mr. Dewey, played by Christopher Lloyd. He constantly interrupts Richard to guess what kind of book he thinks he’s looking for all while getting very dramatic and dangerously close to the young boy. I laugh at it because of how over-the-top Lloyd’s acting is, but uncomfortably so. As a kid, I thought he was being very wise and passionate about the stories he looks after, but as an adult, it’s hard not to look at this scene and call stranger danger on it.

Mr. Dewey directs Richard to a phone where he can call his parents, gives him a library card if he feels like checking a book out, and casually points out the big green exit sign should he decide to leave. Richard wanders through the library until he comes across an awesome-looking mural in the rotunda depicting scenes from Moby Dick, Treasure Island, Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde…umm, Dragonslayer, I guess, and a wizard who bears more than a passing resemblance to Mr. Dewey.

This is why we need more funding in our public libraries, folks.

Richard slips on the wet floor and knocks himself out. When he comes to, paint from the mural gushes to the floor, turns into a dragon-like blob and chases him through the library, turning anything it touches turns into a painted background. The blending of computer and traditional animation for the dragon is surprisingly excellent. It’s plain to see that a lot of work went into this one creature. When I can’t tell where the hand-drawn animation begins or ends, that’s a good sign.

Ultimately the dragon catches Richard and transforms him into an animated character – no, not a character, an illustration, says someone from the shadows. That someone is the master of the animated literary realm Richard’s been transported to, keeper of the books and guardian of the written word, The Pagemaster (also voiced by Lloyd).

Do you think he trims his beard by cutting it or by stitching it up and binding it with leather and glue?

This animated version of the library is where all the stories ever written call home (though Horner’s score is what really sells the wonder of the moment). Here, books are, quite literally, transports to another world. Open a book and characters, creatures and objects from that story emerge from them. The Pagemaster demonstrates this by summoning a fairytale giant and the Argo from Jason and the Argonauts just for show. Richard’s more interested in finding his way home and the Pagemaster tells him that he must pass three tests in order to reach the Exit. He sends him off on his quest with a word of advice: when in doubt, look to the books.

Richard is swept up on a book cart and crashes into his first comic relief sidekick for the evening, Adventure, a cantankerous sentient book who acts like a pirate and is played by Sir Patrick Stewart. Stewart is one of the finest actors of the stage and screen and a damn good human being (seriously, look up his speeches about domestic violence) but I’ve noticed that when it comes to animated films, he tends to skew towards the…not so good ones. Not only did he turn down roles in Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, but for every Prince of Egypt, there’s a Chicken Little, Gnomeo and Juliet, Legends of Oz: Dorothy’s Return and Emoji Movie that proudly boasts his name. It’s mind-boggling and frustrating to hear such talent reduced to voicing shit.

Not hyperbole.

The best thing I can say about Adventure is that at least Stewart sounds like he’s having fun playing him. I should know, getting paid to talk like a pirate is the best job ever.

Adventure changes his tune when he sees Richard’s library card and offers to help the boy if he checks him out from the library. He tells Richard to go up a ladder to get their bearings, but Richard refuses on account of his acrophobia and prattles off some of those annoying statistics. Adventure tries to change his mind about climbing by opening 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and unleashing the giant squid, which is like helping someone overcome their fear of flying by shooting them out of a cannon.

The squid throws Richard in the air but he’s rescued by another living book, Fantasy (Whoopi Goldberg). Fantasy subverts the warm fairy godmother stereotype she’s modeled after with her frequent bouts of sarcasm and stubbornness; whereas Stewart is playing a role, Whoopi is pretty much playing herself. Under normal circumstances, Fantasy would use her magic to poof Richard to the Exit, but since she’s outside of her section her powers are considerably weakened. Regardless, she also promises to help Richard if he takes her home with him. Fantasy and Adventure butt heads over who’s going to be second banana to our protagonist. Adventure insists he’s the only one who knows where they’re headed and gets Richard to open up The Hound of Baskervilles, with predictable results.

The Hound chases the trio until they jump through a bookcase into the horror section, full of spooky graveyards and assorted Halloween detritus. The Exit Sign appears through the fog but leads them to a massive and obviously haunted mansion that they must pass through in order to proceed. Richard rings the bell, which knocks the final member of the team, Horror (Frank Welker), into his arms. Horror’s my favorite of the bunch, at least he would be if I had to pick one. For one thing, with all the fairly big names in the cast, it’s refreshing to hear a veteran voice actor playing one of the lead roles. Horror’s the least like the genre he represents, a sweet dimwit who just wants some friends. I don’t know, maybe I just have a soft spot for lonely ugly-cute marshmallow characters.

Speaking of, the designs for the books aren’t exactly appealing with large faces plastered right on their spines and little arms and legs sticking out of their lumbering square bodies. Horror’s look, however, comes the closest to working since he’s modeled after Quasimodo and isn’t supposed to be Mr. Universe if you catch my drift. He even gets some moments of good wild animation, especially when he’s “describing” what frightens him.

But one line, one solitary bit of dialogue has always stuck with me: “Horror always has sad endings”. It’s a shockingly deep statement that sums up the tragedy of his situation, and also why I’ve never been that big on the genre. The monster’s dead, everyone’s safe, you think it’s all ok, then BOOM. It pops up again, slaughters every character you’ve grown to care for and sets up a neverending chain of watered-down sequels and reboots.

Fantasy assures Horror her world is a place of happy endings, and Richard allows him to come along for the ride. The group ventures into the mansion, which looks perfect as far as haunted houses go. It’s caught somewhere between traditional Gothic and German Expressionism with its impossibly high ceilings, winding staircases, cobwebbed cracks in the walls and looming shadows. The team then meets the mansion’s owner, Dr. Henry Jekyll, played by…Leonard Nimoy?!

Fascinating.

It goes without saying that Nimoy is magnetic as both Jekyll and his wicked counterpart. He encapsulates the madness and depravity of the latter with a cackle and a single line, and he plays the former with a warm air of wisdom and sophistication (the fact that he serves his Hyde potion in a martini glass should clue you in on that trait). It makes me wish we got to see Nimoy play Jekyll and Hyde in a more straightforward adaptation before he passed away.

Though maybe he already did…

Adventure is ready to help himself to some of Jekyll’s cocktail but Horror knocks it out of his hands and the spill burns a hole through the floor.

So the Hyde formula’s secret ingredient is xenomorph blood. Who knew?

Richard and the gang are too late to stop Jekyll from drinking his concoction and he undergoes a harrowing transformation into his evil alter-ego, Edward Hyde. And hoo boy, did this scene reopen a can of worms. Imagine you’re a five-year-old enjoying this fun little animated escapade of talking books and magic and then this gets all up in your face.

“My name…is…”

“…Mister HYYYYYYYDE!!!!!”

All this to say even after all these years, Mr. Hyde still kind of puts me on edge. I remember my dad taught me how to use the fast-forward button on the VCR just so I could rush through this part. I even wished for and made up a kind of video player where you could skip entire scenes for the sole purpose of avoiding Hyde’s reveal.

I’m still waiting on my royalties.

Hyde attacks the group but Horror accidentally saves them by dropping a chandelier on him.

Hey, wrong story!

Horror gets tangled up in the chains and is about to be pulled through the floor along with Hyde. Fantasy begs Richard to save him but he’s too scared to. He doesn’t even try to weasel out of it by saying he has bone spurs or some other lame excuse, he just stands there and shrugs as one of his friends is about to die. Our hero, ladies and gentlemen. I know Richard’s supposed to learn courage over the course of the movie but not even attempting to try is pretty low. It’s not like there’s any danger in the situation or a possibility that Hyde will pop back up again; the freak’s too busy dragging Horror down, laughing maniacally in the dark as he anticipates pulling one helpless victim to their doom along with him.

Can’t sleep, Hyde will eat me…

Anyway, Fantasy has enough and rescues Horror herself. As for Hyde, he goes down the hole never to be seen again.

Now that I’m more familiar with the stories featured in this movie more so than when it was released, seeing them come and go rather quickly without diving into their essence is disappointing…but perhaps that was intentional. Maybe by leaving these sequences fairly open-ended and giving us the most basic of recaps, the movie is encouraging kids to check out the books themselves and come to their own conclusions about how and why these are timeless, fascinating tales.

Or at the very least, they could pick up an illustrated abridged version. Try getting a six-year-old to sit through the complete Moby Dick.

You’re a prodigy, Matilda! You don’t count!

After fleeing Hyde, Richard and the gang run into some possessed books – in other words, they’re haunted by ghost stories.

They evade the spirited tomes and had things worked out differently, they would have immediately had a perilous encounter with another famous literary horror character, Frankenstein’s monster. Poor Frankie M. made it to the poster and a few promotional picture books but not the final film. It’s not clear why he was cut; maybe the director felt the sequence was running long or he got worried the kids watching this would be too scared by this point. Frankly, anything that comes after Hyde pales in comparison. You could throw the worst of Lovecraft our way and it still wouldn’t be half as terrifying as he was.

The team makes it outside, but are trapped on a high vine-covered wall. Richard is too scared to climb down until the Pagemaster possesses a gargoyle to give some on-the-nose words of encouragement.

Careful, Richard. The last time I saw a gargoyle like that, it didn’t end well for the person grabbing it.

Richard Tarzans his ways to safety, and everyone celebrates their escape. The sun rises, clearing the way to the ever-elusive Exit Sign and Adventure’s home turf, a beach stretching into the open sea. Out on the ocean, they come across the crew of the Pequod. They’re searching for the white whale Moby Dick at the behest of Captain Ahab, voiced by George Hearn.

Hmm, George Hearn playing an overly dramatic psychopath hellbent on bloody vengeance? Can’t imagine where they got that casting idea from.

Ahab spies his quarry off the port bow and the color scheme dramatically shifts into a fiery red while the mad captain’s eyes glow and he turns into a Frank Miller drawing.

Lift your spearhead high, Ahab! Hear its singing edge!

I don’t know why they went with this abrupt change in hue, but frankly my dear I don’t give a damn. It’s a visual representation of Ahab’s unhinged thirst for violence teetering on demonic possession that just looks really cool. Also, like Nimoy before him, Hearn makes the most of his screen time, giving a stirring rendition of some of Ahab’s immortal lines.

…Then Moby Dick pounces on top of him and kills him and his crew instantly.

But Moby’s not done dicking around yet and he smashes Richard’s boat too. Richard and Adventure latch on to some driftwood, but it looks like Fantasy and Horror didn’t make it and there are sharks closing in.

The good news: they’re quickly rescued.

The bad news: they’re taken prisoner aboard the Hispaniola which is under the command of Long John Silver (Jim Cummings) and his crew of cutthroat pirates.

Well, calling them cutthroat is generous. The Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything are more threatening than these guys.

With catlike tread, upon our foe we steal!

Also, one of the pirates is voiced by Robert Picardo and…do you think David Kirschner just wanted to make one big Star Trek crossover movie but the execs shot it down so he turned it into this cute family flick starring cast members from almost every iteration of the franchise? Like, Picard and Guinan are banished to another dimension inspired by various Holodeck fantasies thanks to a resurrected omniscient Commander Kurge (just another one of Q’s little tests for humanity) and are tasked with protecting a young boy, the son of Henry Starling, who’s the key to defeating him as they find their way back home. They wind up in a desolate corner of the universe where they meet Spock, who’s been working on a top-secret formula that will supposedly make human urges easier to differentiate in important decision-making. But plot twist! It’s really Evil Spock the whole time, and his formula will purge all good from those who consume it! They escape, desperate to warn this dimension’s Federation of Evil Spock’s plan but run into an insane Dr. Berel and are later captured by The Doctor, who has rebelled from his programming and taken up piracy along with a renegade band of Romulans. I’m no Star Trek aficionado, but this is something I’d like to see!

Silver takes away Richard’s library card and forces him and Adventure to join his treasure hunt on (where else?) Treasure Island. But like in the story this is based on, the pirates are enraged to learn that the treasure has already been looted and they mutiny against Silver. Before things get ugly, Fantasy and Horror arrive to save their friends. It turns out they didn’t drown after all due to Horror discovering his hump is hollow and they floated to shore on it.

Then there’s a fight scene where Horror and Fantasy take out the pirates using goofy slapstick. It isn’t too bad, but it doesn’t touch Muppet Treasure Island in comedy. Richard also stands up to Silver and gets him to back off, which earns the old sea dog’s respect. This makes this sequence the most faithful of all the quick adaptations we’ve seen thus far, essentially turning Richard into a stand-in for Jim Hawkins and having him go through an abridged version of his arc. It would have resonated more, however, if we spent more time with the plot and characters of this story, so we’d really feel something when Richard asserts himself. The Pagemaster is a scant seventy-five minutes, but with all the possibilities for expanding upon these different novels in this format with the kind of story they’re trying to tell, this could be a ninety-minute film at the very least. The movie even teases this with some cleverly woven-in shoutouts to other famous works, like Edgar Allen Poe’s Raven appearing in the haunted house, or Richard staggering under an oversized copy of Atlas Shrugged. I wish we could see those tales as part of the plot proper, but they make this literature-based world feel more all-encompassing and less like they’re merely covering the basics, for which I’m grateful for.

Adventure, who got sidelined at the start of the fight and is miffed about missing the action, storms off on his own. This is where the movie sidelines the main plot for a substandard “jerk with a heart of gold learns not to be a jerk to others” subplot. Horror tries to cheer up Adventure and admits he idolizes him, but Adventure bullies and scares him away. Shortly after, Adventure finds Richard’s library card washed up on the beach and returns it, but Fantasy forces him to look for Horror and apologize before they hit the road. He finds him being tied down by the Lilliputians from Gulliver’s Travels. Now Gulliver’s Travels could technically be classified as an adventure story, but really it’s a witty satire in the guise of an adventure. I wonder what we could have gotten if the movie explored other stories that mashed up the genres featured here with ones like mystery or sci-fi or drama. I want to see how Sherlock Holmes, Tom Sawyer, Captain Nemo, and Lizzie Bennett would react to this kid from the future and his three sentient books running around their stories! Or what about ones where the elements of fantasy, horror, and adventure overlap each other? Think about it, A Christmas Carol is both horror and fantasy, The Princess Bride is fantasy and adventure, The Call of Cthulu, A Wrinkle in Time and anything by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett combine all three. I’m sorry I keep going off on these tangents, but the concepts this film presents deserve more exploration than what we’re given.

Adventure rescues Horror and the two reconcile. Fantasy’s wand lights up, indicating that they’re getting closer to her territory and the Exit. Just to be sure she’s got her magic back, she tests it out by turning Adventure into –

Your very confusing nightmares for the next month, ladies and gentlemen.

Everyone traipses through the jungle into the fantasy section, which goes a bit beyond your average picture book in terms of design. Though the movie’s backgrounds and colors are a bit murky, each world has a distinct visual style. The fantasy realm is like if Arthur Rackham tangoed with Eyvind Earle. It’s not Sleeping Beauty levels of gorgeousness, though it’s close.  But once again, the magic of this scene comes from the music. Instead of more instrumental backing, however, we get the movie’s main tune, “Whatever You Imagine”.

I unironically love this song. I’ve said before I’m a sucker for 90s pop ballads and this one is no exception. It’s all about using the power of imagination to follow your dreams and shape the world into a better place, and is complemented by the visuals: some fairies that are rotoscoped in a way that they look like living embodiments of the electricity balls you find at Spencer’s appear and dance on Richard’s palm. There’s a second decent pop song in a similar vein over the end credits, “Dream Away” sung by Lisa Stanfield and Babyface, but “Whatever You Imagine” is my favorite of the two.

Yet, nice as this part is, it’s difficult to overlook the shortcomings. You thought the horror and adventure parts of the movie were rushed? What little we see of the fantasy section is limited to a minute and a half of the song before hurtling into the climax. On top of that, the only representations of fantasy here apart from the fairies are nursery rhymes (with Mother Goose and Humpty Dumpty making five-second cameos), generic familiar fairy tales (most of which, including Rapunzel and Cinderella, also joined Frankenstein’s Monster on the cutting room floor), a faun that looks like it was kidnapped from Fantasia, and a yellow brick road as a shout-out to The Wizard of Oz. I get this was a few years before Harry Potter revolutionized the genre, but no love for Lord of the Rings? No Peter Pan? No Narnia? No Earthsea? No Discworld? Not even Dr. Seuss? And if it’s because they’re sticking with public domain works then they really dropped the ball. I’ve got five words for you: King Arthur, Lord Dunsany, ETA Hoffman, George MacDonald, and any culture’s ancient mythology.

Then again, perhaps it’s for the best that the more recognizable fantasies stay out of this feature. Look at our heroes and tell me they’d survive a minute in A Song of Ice and Fire.

Richard spies the Exit on top of a mountain, but Adventure wanders into a “cave” and accidentally awakens the final boss: a monstrous fire-breathing dragon.

“Now you shall deal with me, O Prints, and all the powers of Hell!”

Fantasy summons a magic carpet ripped from her own pages to save Richard and fly them all to the Exit. But the carpet gets singed and crashes on the mountainside, scattering our heroes and causing Fantasy to lose her wand. Richard makes it to the summit but he realizes that in his haste he’s left his book club behind. Adventure decides to face the dragon alone to give Horror and Fantasy time to escape, and this is where we get the culmination of what’s supposed to be Adventure and Fantasy’s belligerent romantic tension throughout the movie and the one truly funny line of dialogue.

Unsurprisingly, the dragon roasts Adventure but he just gets covered in ash and acts like he got bopped on the head instead of burning up like a real book would. This is the fantasy section and a kid’s cartoon on top of that, I’m not gonna argue about the logic. Richard finally finds the courage to go save his friends, but first, he takes a sword, shield, and helmet from the crumbling skeleton of a dead knight.

For his sake, he’d better wash his hands fifty times after this.

Wait, that red cross on the shield….oh my god, it’s the dragon and knight from The Faerie Queen!!

All right, let me explain what this means and why it’s a big deal. The Faerie Queen is one of the most revered examples of classic fantasy literature, a collection of six epic poems detailing the adventures of King Arthur expy Prince Arthur aiding knights representing the Twelve Private Virtues on his journey to rescue and marry the titular fairy queen Gloriana. The story of the Red Cross Knight is about Arthur helping said knight fight a dragon to save his lady love. More importantly, it’s about the knight learning to overcome his insecurities while being waylaid by outside forces symbolizing negative influences and slay the monster himself. It’s not hard to see the surface parallels in his adventure and Richard’s. So, point to the movie for subtly including a well-known tale and weaving it into the main plot. I take back what I said about it overlooking the obvious public domain fantasies.

Richard charges in ready to kick some reptilian butt. Unfortunately, he manages to do an even worse job confronting the dragon than Jon Snow and it eats him in one bite. But our hero merely gets the Jonas treatment and winds up trapped inside the dragon’s stomach, which conveniently holds a number of undigested fantasy books. I guess the dragon must be a voracious reader.

Recalling The Pagemaster’s advice, Richard searches through the books to find something that can help him escape. In a bit of on-the-fly ingenuity, he unleashes the titular plant from Jack and the Beanstalk. He rides the plant up and out of the dragon’s throat, grabs his buddies and carries them to the mountaintop where the gates of the Exit are now open. Once inside, they find a very familiar face.

“I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL SOUNDTRACK! PAY NO ATTENTION THAT COMPOSER BEHIND THE CURTAIN!”

No, of course not. Instead, the Pagemaster appears to greet them. It turns out he’s been guiding Richard through his perils the whole time. Richard is not unreasonably pissed that the seemingly wise and benevolent sage took the Glinda approach of leading him into danger just to teach him a lesson. The small tirade he goes on is honestly refreshing. You don’t see many heroes call out the mentor figure on their trickery.

But all implications aside, the Pagemaster brings up an important point: what would have changed for Richard if he was whisked home just like that? Without the chance to grow, he would have stayed the same cowardly, friendless boy. To back this up, the villains Richard faced appear in the cyclone and proudly remind him of his triumphs. He made the right choices in the face of evil. He looked danger in the eye and kept moving forward. He stood up to others without hesitating. Even the dragon returns to salute Richard in its own way. There’s something rather awe-inspiring about these great literary characters returning to congratulate him for facing their challenges. It might not seem like much at face value: what practical use would there be in overcoming fears of things you’d never come across in the real world like pirates or dragons?

The thing is, most literary characters aren’t just there to move the plot from Point A to Point B, but are also a conduit for symbolizing qualities both evil and benign that enhance their stories. In The Pagemaster, as well as in their own tales, Jekyll and Hyde, Ahab, and Silver represent varying levels of obsession and fear. The dragon is especially notable for the latter in this regard since it is the culmination of Richard’s fears and how he views the world as a terrifying, dangerous place beyond his control. It’s the last thing that appears in the opening credits before he wakes up from his nightmare, and is also the form the paint blob takes when chasing him. The dragon was even supposed to appear continuously throughout the film, following Richard and his friends causing trouble for them. That aspect was cut from the final feature, though it left some conspicuous plot holes, namely how Adventure apparently lost his sword somewhere offscreen then finds it in the dragon’s mouth before he wakes it. The most important thing to take away from this, however, is that Richard doesn’t slay the dragon but instead finds a way to overcome it by moving past it, showing how he’s accepted there are things he can’t always control or avoid and chooses instead to move past his fears. If I may borrow some words Neil Gaiman often attributed to G.K. Chesterton, we don’t read fairytales to learn that dragons exist, but to learn that dragons can be beaten.

Richard, having realized how much he’s grown from his adventures, is finally ready to return to the real world. The Pagemaster sends him back along with the books, who turn into ordinary volumes. Richard wakes up on the library floor with Mr. Dewey standing over him in a totally-not-awkward-at-all manner. He remembers his promise to check out the books, but Mr. Dewey takes back Horror and tells him he can only take two home.

Wait, two books?! Only two?? The last time I went to my local library, they let me check out ten! I’m sure the rules are different depending on each district, but I’d say any self-respecting library that would want to maintain a child’s interest in reading would let them borrow a minimum of three books at a time. This seems like a strange last-minute obstacle that serves no real purpose other than making Mr. Dewey look inexplicably pedantic.

Anyway, Mr. Dewey can tell Richard’s upset that he can’t keep his promise to Horror and allows him to take all the books with him just this once. Richard passes by the ramp from the start of the film and makes the jump on his own, proving that he really has changed. It would have been more cathartic if the bullies from before were there to see it, but I suppose the writers felt this had to be something Richard would do more for himself than for anyone else. And I like how once he sticks that landing and does a positive spin on his dour catchphrase, the street lamps knocked out from the storm all light up again, showing all’s right with the world. Later, Richard’s parents come home after searching for their son all night and find him asleep in the treehouse, no longer afraid of anything.

Well, he’s still scared of Old Man Marley, but he’s taking it one step at a time.

Mr. and Mrs. Tyler let him stay up there, and once they’re gone, Horror, Adventure and Fantasy come to life once again as animated shadows on the wall and revel in their happy ending.

And that was The Pagemaster. As a young kid, I adored it. Nowadays it’s a bit of a guilty pleasure for me. It’s technically not a good movie, but it’s brimming with creative ideas, a few moments of cleverness, some nice visuals, has a good voice cast, an excellent score, and it evokes plenty of nostalgia. I just can’t bring myself to hate it. I also saw a lot of my younger self in Richard, a lit nerd prone to anxiety who found comfort and friendship in the books we traversed through and fantasized about having similar adventures. That, I think, is what really drew me into The Pagemaster back in the day. Plus, as far as an animated children’s film about a geeky kid going into classic tales with a talking book goes, it could have been much, much worse.

No. Just…no.

In case you’re still wondering if I thought this film succeeded in its message, well, it did make me want to read more, but I already loved reading when I was a child so that might render the point moot. I admire the idea of not laying out everything that happens in each story so as to get kids invested, but that being said the segments could use some beefing up to maintain interest and flesh out the characters more. Frankly, I think the whole concept of The Pagemaster would work much better as an animated series than as a movie. Maybe that was what Turner Animation was going for; if the film was more successful, they could create a spinoff show where the characters explore a new story each week that ties into some kind problem Richard is facing. Think Reading Rainbow meets Tales From the Book of Virtue. Now that Disney technically owns this movie, I’d love to see them develop something like this. Their track record with animated television has been stellar since Gravity Falls. Put this project in the right hands and they’d have another hit.

You know what? Call me out on it all you want, but The Pagemaster gets a three out of five. Watch it if you’re curious or just feeling nostalgic, and be sure to pick up a good book afterward.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this review, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Patreon supporters receive great perks such as extra votes for movie reviews, requests, early sneak-peeks and more. Special thanks to Amelia Jones, Gordhan Rajani and Sam Minden for their contributions, especially at this time.

Considering the theme of this review and the timing of its release, I’d like to leave you with a bit of a positive endorsement: If you’re like me and you’re looking for something to do while in quarantine, especially since all the libraries are closed where I am, I recommend Project Gutenberg and LibriVox. Both offer ways to enjoy beloved pieces of great literature that are largely in the public domain and discover fascinating obscure ones too, and it is completely free. No accounts to sign up for, no monthly payments, just years of classic books online only a click away. I listen to many of them while working or if I need to relax. I hope it’ll help take your mind off of any fears or stress, and I’ll see you tomorrow when movie voting recommences.

Screengrabs courtesy of animationscreencaps.com

April Review: The Pagemaster (1994) I expected this movie to have a few votes from those who remembered it as kids. I never expected it to win by a landslide.