I can’t speak for everyone out there but I think that most of you will be able to feel better about your family life after seeing this film. Featuring almost every potential parental conundrum of the 1980s, Parenthood is an interesting pill to swallow. Director Ron Howard delivers a kind of flipside to the John Hughes 80s teen coming-of-age flick with a look at the parents of the 80s- those poor souls who grew up in the idyllic 60s and 70s that must now deal with their Hughesian archetypal children and the insanity of the 80s.
What happens to Baby Boomers who grow up hating their parents, determined to never turn out like them? Why, they become just like them of course! This is the dilemma facing Gil Buckman (Steve Martin), a sales executive who is slowly coming to terms with the fact that he is every bit as distant and detached from his son as his own father was from him. But Gil’s not the only member of the Buckman clan with issues. His sister Helen (Dianne West) is single mother of two forced to deal with her daughter’s pregnancy and her son’s emotional issues. His other sister, Susan (Harley Kozak) is married to a control freak (Rick Moranis) who’s trying to force prodigious ability from their young daughter. Then there is Larry (Tom Hulce), the black sheep of the family who only comes back home when he needs help paying back gambling debts and business deals gone wrong.
Talk about your family reunions from hell, right? To be fair, there is at least one rational-minded member of the Buckman family. Susan is perfectly normal; she just married a guy with issues. Unfortunately, she gets very little of the focus in this film. Her contributions do help balance things out as a sort of voice of reason, but the rest of the film whips you around from one face-palming scenario to another. Maybe some families out there are really like this. I know my fair share of eccentric clans but this one hits a few too many crisis points for me to fully swallow it.
Maybe all the drama pumped into this film was over the top when it hit theaters. Maybe my skepticism is a byproduct of growing up in a post-Hughes film world. Whatever the cause, I, and I’m sure others, doubt the likelihood of so many issues plaguing one family. Kudos to the writers for doing their best to maintain a sense of balance amidst all of the characters in this film. Major props also go their way for keeping each character consistent throughout the film but also finding room for (almost) everyone to grow.
There is also some very solid acting in this film. Keanu Reeves plays the same kind of character he portrays in all his films up until The Matrix, but just about everyone else does a good job of coming off as authentic as possible. Savvy viewers will note a young Joaquin Phoenix in the mix, doing a fine job as a troubled child of divorce. The adults and children alike are all on top of their game. The only trouble is that Parenthood is fine when broken down into individual performance but, as a sum of its parts, it feels overloaded.
Steve Martin fans might come away feeling underwhelmed by this film. It ranks among his blandest offerings in the 80s. He still puts on a little pop and sizzle where it counts though, generating the most non-situational humor Parenthood has to offer. This is a film that does its best to cover everything at once while trying to be as inoffensive as possible. None other than Ron Howard could have pulled off that feat.
The MPAA rating for this film pretty much says it all- PG. PG? A Disney animated film? Really? Watching this film, the rating makes perfect sense but you have to wonder what the Disney crew was thinking. The fantasy genre has always been kind to the House of Mouse but for all its light, fluffy components, The Black Cauldron gets so dark at times that it is no longer recognizable as a Disney film.
Taran is a young assistant pig-keeper in a faraway land. His life changes dramatically one day when the sorcerer Dallban orders him to protect a magical pig. The Horned King seeks the pig because its powers as an oracle will lead him to the legendary Black Cauldron. If the Horned King succeeds in acquiring the cauldron, he will raise an army of undead warriors to destroy all those who oppose his ruthless will. When Taran fails to keep the pig from the Horned King’s minions, he sets out to reclaim the pig and defeat the Horned King if necessary. His path is beset by danger on all sides but a cast of colorful characters help him along his quest.
This is a very strange blend of ridiculously cheesy and dark fantasy. The film is adapted from the first two books in a fantasy series that I’ve never even heard of before. While the source material may have won a few awards back in the 1960s, whatever magic the pages held didn’t make the transfer to film. Maybe if I knew more about Welsh mythology the names wouldn’t all seem so outlandish and silly.
Taran is a fairly milquetoast fantasy lead and his only special quality is his determination. His success is largely due to the people and things around him. This kind of overly lucky hero archetype never sits well with me. Then of course there is Princess Eilonwy, whose appearance looks like an amalgamation of the costumes and features of the best Disney Princesses. The Horned King is menacing and frightening to look at, but his motivation in finding the Black Cauldron is pretty thin and recycled. Maybe it’s the current era’s effect on me, but I need my villains to be more complex than simply trying to take over the world.
The saving grace of this film is the animation. It’s complex, rich in detail and even stunning at times. For such a strange world, the animating staff really creates some immersive work here. That makes it all the more of a shame that this film get dark to the point of being un-Disney. I can appreciate the animation but after 24 films, Disney has crafted a very specific ‘type’ for its products and The Black Cauldron does not fit that type.
Fantasy fans and anglophiles may be more into this film than I am; I don’t know if it was marketed towards any specific demographic. What I do know is that this film could easily stain the reputation of Disney in the minds of unsuspecting parents. There is a reason why this, Disney’s first PG-rated film has been all but forgotten about. Despite my displeasure with some of the 1940s package films, the dark nature of this film makes it the least enjoyable Disney film as of its release in 1985.
Capturing both the physical beauty and social ugliness that makes up the African continent, Blood Diamond is a traditional heavyweight drama. Its goal is not to entertain but to captivate and illuminate. Exposing the dark corners of the diamond trade that most people are ignorant to or choose not to acknowledge, this film ties big business, organized crime and human drama all into one.
When his village is destroyed by rebels, Solomon Vandy (Djimon Hounsou) is torn apart from his wife an children and forced to work in a rebel-owned diamond mine. When the Sierra Leonean Army attacks the rebels, Vandy escapes knowing the whereabouts of a massive pink diamond. Vandy crosses paths with Danny Archer (Leonardo DiCaprio), a Zimbabwean diamond smuggler with powerful connections. Their relationship is shaky at best and, with the help of an American journalist (Jennifer Connelly), they set out to retrieve the diamond before anyone else can as well as Vandy’s son, who has been forced to join the rebel army.
The above paragraph is actually a pretty poor description of the entire plot of this film. The three central characters are operating on a grander scale than I can put into one paragraph. Colonialism, capitalism, barbarism, and humanitarianism all interplay in Blood Diamond. With all that’s going on, the film can’t help but get bogged down in the intricate weaving of plot details. While the diamond is the focus from 30,000 feet, this film is more like a collection of smaller conflicts, internal and external.
While DiCaprio is the star of the film, Connelly is its conscience and Hounsou is its heart. The combination of DiCaprio’s hard-nosed determination, Connelly’s lectures about the evils of the diamond trade, and Hounsou’s intense emotional roller coaster, this film will leave you feeling mentally and physically exhausted. Is it rewarding though? Pre-credit text encourages audiences with the fact that a super-minority of diamonds come from such entities since conferences between the diamond powerhouses in the 1990s. That either leaves you feeling a little warmer inside or it enables you to distance yourself from the events of the film.
The one thing that bugs me throughout the film is DiCaprio’s accent. It’s bad enough that his youthful looks make it hard to believe him as a seasoned smuggler, but his never-consistent accent is distracting as all get-out. They needed someone of DiCaprio’s pedigree and popularity to anchor the film and secure audiences but, just as I have issues with Americans playing British roles, there’s just something off about having him play an African white man.
While it may be a little too much to take in at one time, Blood Diamond is a very good film. The locations look sharp and Hounsou’s performance is wonderful. One might think this film was intended as Oscar bait but I disagree. This was a film made by people who appreciate the true dramas of old. It won’t likely become one of your favorites, and you may not even feel the urge to watch it a second time, but one viewing is certainly worthwhile.
I always feel awkward when reviewing Christian-themed films. As a believer, I like seeing films with good morals and lessons. These elements are found throughout secular cinema but not in a faith-driven way. Sadly, most Hollywood films oversimplify religious characters either as naïve goody-goodies or hypocrites full of fire and brimstone. A rare find is the thinking-man’s Christian film. Letters to God is most definitely not that film and, frankly, works against any progress Christian studios have made in recent years.
Eight year old Tyler Doherty (Tanner Maguire) struggles to fight off cancer and writes letters to God as a coping mechanism. These letters fall into the hands of an alcoholic mailman named Brady (Jeffrey Johnson). At first, he is amused by the devotion of ‘the sick kid on his route’ but as he reads Tyler’s letters, he begins to care for the boy and helps out the family when he can. Tyler’s mom (Robyn Lively), brother (Michael Bolten), and his best friend (Bailey Madison) help keep Tyler’s spirit bright while Bradey comes to grips with his own life and spirituality.
My biggest gripe about Christian cinema is that it is almost always presents Christian life in an unrealistic manner that is eagerly spoon-fed to those already fervent in their beliefs. True to form, Letters to God provides little or no approach vector for someone who is not an overzealous evangelical or willing to suspend their disbelief even further just because it’s a Christian film. There’s also the ‘based on a true story’ setup to amplify things even though research reveals (as it does a majority of the time) that this film is very loosely based on a true story.
Two things are propping this film up. First, the filmmakers know who their audience is and they accordingly milk it for all its worth. For this very specific minority of the population, Letters to God is a home run. Second, I like the concept of this film. Child with cancer helps everyone around him find the bigger meaning of it all? That’s pretty cool. If only the technical aspects of the film didn’t suck.
The writing is cheesy and horribly awkward at times. Shots linger on for longer than necessary. There are countless Christian movie clichés crammed into the reels. None of the actors except Maguire make their characters feel organic and believable. Elements of the story are preposterous (all the interconnectedness of nearly every major and supporting character in the film), creepy (who lets the mailman play with their kids?), or far too convenient.
Christian filmmakers continue to complain that they are not taken seriously. It’s true, but if they’re not willing to do anything about it, then Christian films will always be low-budget affairs reminiscent of bad Hallmark Channel movies. I almost want to call this film polarizing but that’s not the right word for it. Even if you dislike Letters to God, it’s not bad enough to hate. Or, if you’re like me, you’ll find yourself rooting for this film to be better than you know it’s going to turn out to be.
The specter of Don Bluth is still evident in some of the tone and atmospherics but this is clearly a step in the right direction for Disney. At least that’s what I call The Fox and the Hound. Some will consider it a step back toward the artistic stylings of an era long gone. In a way, it is, but in doing so, Disney manages to inject a little of the old Disney magic back into the veins.
After a gunshot makes a baby fox an orphan, several woodland creatures search for a suitable home. Left on the doorstep of Widow Tweed, the baby fox is adopted and given a name- Tod. Meanwhile her scruffy neighbor brings home a young puppy to be trained into a hunting dog. So begins the tale of Tod (the fox- voiced by Mickey Rooney) and Topper (the hound- voiced by Kurt Russell), two natural-born enemies that become the unlikeliest of friends. The bonds of friendship are tested though, by instinct, time, and the expectations placed on them by their owners.
Yes, I’m going to rave a little bit more about the animation. It really looks sharp. Not just good, but some of the best full-detail animation since The Jungle Book. It looks like they finally managed to get rid of those pesky guide- and sketch lines that drove me crazy through two decades of Disney product. There’s crispness in the colors and depth to the scenery that really make you feel deep in the heart of the woods.
In something of a bold move, The Fox and the Hound does not include songs. While this flies against the archetypal (I refuse to apply the term ‘stereotype’ here) Disney format, it works because the story doesn’t really demand musical numbers. Disney had been hit or miss with the inclusion and exclusion of song and lyrics for the best part of 20 years. Some films could have used less (or more work on the numbers) while other films leave you feeling very aware of the absence of music. This film works though because the sounds of the forest are its soundtrack. Plus, as it grows darker and more serious, sing-songy bits would feel out of place.
One absolute point of contention is the flimsiness of the story. The characters are likeable more for the fact that they are cute animals than for anything they do, say, or learn. There also exists a fairly brazen anti-hunting message being delivered. It may never get preachy about the subject matter but there is no doubt that the hunter is a villain according to the Disney crew. That’s a slightly subjective position to take but I believe the observation is as objective as can be.
Plenty of good things are in play in this film. It’s a trim 83 minutes long, so it doesn’t overstay its welcome. It hearkens back to the glory days of Disney, when he animation was vibrant, lush, and legitimized Walt Disney’s goal of getting animation to be taken seriously as an art form. Too simple a story is the downfall here but even that doesn’t hurt it too badly. Parents and children can all watch this film and enjoy it as a solid second-tier Disney flick.
Nowadays, the ‘when worlds collide’ comedy setup has all but lost its luster. It’s been played out in just about every possible permutation across just about every demographic group. While this now-tired film convention has made many a moviegoer cynical and detached from the antic within the reels, there’s a magic present in its early incarnations that still manages to bring a smile to faces everywhere. Such is the case with You Can’t Take It with You.
Alice Sycamore (Jean Arthur) is madly in love with her employer’s son, Tony Kirby (James Stewart). Tony reciprocates her feelings and their world is hunky dory. The only snag is that they come from two very different families. The rest of the Sycamore clan, and their live-in friends, are nothing less than eccentric. Tony’s family is a bunch of stiff, well-to-do elitists who don’t believe in marrying below their privileged station in life. Sparks fly and hilarity ensues when the Sycamore’s and the Kirby’s finally meet.
I don’t think I’ve been disappointed yet by a Jimmy Stewart film. He and Jean Arthur are simply adorable in this film. They share the kind of chemistry that Hollywood classics are made of. Arthur’s relationship with her bizarro family is equally seamless. The film could probably use a little more interaction between the easy-going Tony and his highbrow parents. Is he as whimsical around his folks as he is around Alice? If so, the shock value of the Sycamore’s wouldn’t be as exaggerated as it is, though it would certainly raise the eyebrows of just about any parent.
As enjoyable as this film may be, the word ‘adorable’ keeps popping into my mind. It applies easily to many aspects of the film: Alice’s Grandpa (Lionel Barrymore) and his simplistic worldview, the optimism of the Sycamore clan, the love between Tony and Alice, the trajectory of the film itself even works in adorable ways. That creates a problem for me. Great films go beyond adorable.
I can’t tell if it’s the jadedness that comes from being exposed to these polar opposites coming together kinds of tales or if it’s the lack of much technical whizbangery that holds this film back for me. I’d like to say the latter but the former is always a possibility. In many ways, my generation is blessed and cursed with the period of films we grew up on. We’re blessed by ever-increasing technical advancements but we’re cursed because everything we’ve grown up watching is in some way derivative of films no one really watches anymore.
Fortunately, quaint films like You Can’t Take It with You remind us that the Hollywood hits of today have a solid foundation underneath them. I won’t make any promises as to how much you may laugh at this classic comedy (let’s face it, some of you out there are so cynical it’s scary!) but I can say with some confidence that this film will, at the very least, make you smile. Even if you try to thwart me by remaining as stern as possible throughout it, I think the charm and magic of this film will finds a way to win you over.
At one time, I’m sure that grade school history books mentioned the name Emile Zola, if not then certainly the Dreyfus Affair. But with two world wars amidst a century of Western and American development, the subject matter of this early Oscar winner no longer exists in the recesses of audience’s minds. While it may have been fresh and riveting back in the day, The Life of Emile Zola feels more like the stiff, performance-focused biopics of today that are offered up as Oscar bait more so than for box office returns.
In his early days, Émile Zola (Paul Muni) ekes out a bohemian lifestyle in the heart of Paris with his friend and artist Paul Cézanne (Vladimir Sokoloff). Upon meeting a prostitute evading the police, the aspiring writer makes her his muse and writes a salacious and popular novel. As Zola becomes the voice of the people, he loses his desire to ‘fight the good fight’ and grows complacent as a wealthy and respected writer. Many years later, a chance encounter with his old friend emboldens Zola to take on the task of fighting the injustice of the Dreyfus Affair, in which a French soldier (played by Joseph Schildkraut) is falsely accused of being a spy only because he is Jewish.
I can see how the content of this film won favor with the Academy and Hollywood in general. What’s not to like about fighting injustice, especially when it involves corrupt government officials and antisemitism? The true-story aspect of it is just icing on the cake. The trouble is that, in the decades since this film’s release (and the century since Zola made his stand), America has seen enough rights fights and political shenanigans that 19th century European scandals have lost their appeal.
In theory, this fact shouldn’t take anything away from The Life of Émile Zola. Taken for the piece of cinema that it is, Zola shows signs of creakiness in its structure. The film makes the fatal error of many modern biopics and puts too much focus on the titular character. Paul Muni does a very good job, particularly in his four-and-a-half minute long extended take monologue before the French courts. Schildkraut won a Supporting Actor Oscar for little more than looking exhausted, which surprised me. The only other supporting player to make a dent in my memory is Gale Sondergaard as Dreyfus’s wife. Her passion and desperate pleas for help clearing her husband’s name are powerful, though a smidge overdone.
Herein lies the problem, for all the social justice elements fueling the drama (though the film never directly tackles the issue of French antisemitism), The Life of Émile Zola is a one-man show. The cynic in me thinks it served as little more than a star-vehicle for Muni to get a little more attention. He had already been making waves for his supporting and lead performances and was fresh off an Oscar win for The Story of Louis Pasteur. Might the studio have been looking to make him the first two-time and first back-to-back winner for Best Actor? I t wouldn’t surprise me in the least.
Unlike many of the older films I have watched, Zola actually does play in to the generalization that older films have a sluggish pace. The film drags in many places, making its runtime feel quite a bit longer than two hours. If you’re big on European history or social justice, this might be worth your while. Otherwise you can freely pass up on this winner from yesteryear because its polish has been lost with age.
In just eight years, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ top prize has gone to just about every major film genre of the era. With the crowning of The Great Ziegfeld as the ninth ever official winner for Best Picture, the Academy ushered into its ranks what has come to be a time-honored tradition of awards season- the biopic. Cynics may argue that this film is a sappy example of Hollywood’s self-loving of all things showbiz. Hindsight isn’t always 20/20 though, because, while the story may not be riveting by modern standards, this little gem holds plenty of acting, writing, and technical prowess to be worthy of its place in Oscar history.
As a young man, Florenz (Flo) Ziegfeld (William Powell) sets out to make it in show business, much to the chagrin of his music professor father. Over the years, Flo finds himself in constant competition with fellow promoter Jack Billings (Frank Morgan). From carnival attractions to singers to Broadway musicals, Flo always finds his way on top. Determined to be a game-changer in entertainment, Flo’s lifelong quest to be an American original has many ups and downs both personally and professionally.
At first this seems like quite a daunting film to take in. At over three hours long (including the overture and entr'acte), this is still one of the ten longest Oscar winners of all time. Your time will be rewarded though, and how! There is something for aficionados of every branch of filmmaking to appreciate here and even general audiences who don’t normally care to spot the little details will have a good time. Does it drag a little bit? Yes, particularly in the second act, when we see more of Flo’s personal troubles. That might make some people squirm a little bit but if you are wise enough to take a break between acts, you should have little trouble managing it.
Many of the sets are glorious in detail and (at times) impressive in scope. Choreography and blocking prove to be stunning feats if you take time to consider the logistics of the large-cast sequences. And what film about an early titan of Broadway would be complete without including the songs that took him to prominence? A few new numbers are added as well, all of which are delightful. For me though, the icing on the cake is the use of extended takes. Several of them exist but the granddaddy of them all occurs just before the entr'acte. It’s actually two extended takes edited together so seamlessly that you’d swear it was one ridiculously intricate 5-minute sequence. This scene single-handedly bounced this film up a notch into my ‘great’ range.
Tying the film together are the writing and performances. Anytime a film includes crisp one-liners and charm, it’s natural to credit the actors first. William Powell has a Clark Gable-esque presence as Flo Ziegfeld. He’s charismatic but authentic, a far cry from the morally ambiguous aura currently demanded from the biopic genre. Behind all the wit and charm lies some powerful writing. If you consider the length of The Great Ziegfeld, it’s all the more impressive that a writer can sustain all those magical qualities. Granted, it’s up to the actors to infuse those words with all the necessary pizazz to make the film watchable, but without a firm foundation, performances are nothing.
As much as I appreciate this film, I understand that it will not be everyone’s cup of tea. It’s not a musical in the way musical fans will expect. If you’re looking for an early Singin’ in the Rain, you’ll be out of luck. The musical numbers are all within the context of Ziegfeld shows. Old but not creaky, dated but still aging well, The Great Ziegfeld is a joyous blend of romance, drama, style and substance. If you find yourself in a position to take in this all but forgotten about Oscar winner, I recommend you do so.
Maybe it’s because it won Best Picture at the Oscars. Maybe it’s because it was so darn difficult to track down a copy. Whatever the reason, I think I came into this film expecting too much. Instead of a rousing through-the-years drama, Cavalcade turns out to be more like Cimarron for stuffy, upper-class Brits.
Beginning on New Year’s Eve of 1899, the Marryot family is living high on the hog. They’ve got a team of servants, two strapping young boys, and a very nice position among upper class London. The 20h Century offers more than they could have ever expected, as the family finds themselves intimately connected to several key historical events. The Second Boer War, the death of the Queen, the sinking of the Titanic, World War I, and beyond- yes the Marryot family sees it all as the cavalcade of years passes them by.
My initial reaction to this film is that many of the scenes feel very stagey. Sure enough, Cavalcade is based on a popular Noël Coward play from earlier in the decade. That explains the rigidity and plethora of static shots. I would assume that plays were being converted into films quite regularly in this time period to capitalize on popularity and mass appeal. The detail in the sets and costumes is certainly commendable.
The trouble lies in that these details don’t need to be quite so painfully exacting to build up the illusion in a film. Interesting characters and a good story are what drive film. The main characters haven’t aged well for modern audiences, so it’s up to the supporting cast to spice things up. As far as the story goes, it lacks any central conflict or purpose. It’s simply a series of vignettes progressing in chronological order. The only thing tying it all together is the Marryot family. At least with Cimarron there was the subtle plot of taming the wilderness of the American frontier hiding in the background.
I can see why this film won Best Picture (though I haven’t seen any of its competition yet). In 1933, some of the events covered in this film were still somewhat fresh in the minds of the industry bigwigs making up the Academy. This, on top of the popular stage play, probably gave it enough populist appeal to make it a no-brainer pick for the Oscar.
Unfortunately for Cavalcade, it has not aged as well as some of the other early Oscar winners. Static shots and a barely-existent plot make for a boring film by today’s standards. The sets are quite good and there are a few scenes that are large in scope but a few sprinkles can’t mask its decidedly vanilla flavor. Appreciable as it may be for what it is, I would steer you away from this film unless you are making a point, like me, to watch every single Oscar winner for Best Picture.
I remember loving to listen to the story of The Rescuers as a child on one of those Disney read-along books with the cassette tape that jingled when it was time to turn the page. I also recall adoring the sequel to this film, The Rescuers Down Under. You can imagine my surprise when, after taking this film in for the first time in ages, I found I did not like this film very much. Sure, it passes the Disney litmus test of likeable characters, a good story, and plenty of morals and lessons, but I find fault with its underwhelming animation.
In the heart of Devil’s Bayou, a little orphan named Penny sends for help via message in a bottle. This message reaches the Rescue Aid Society, an international assembly of mice determined to make a difference in the world. The lovely Miss Bianca (voiced by Eva Gabor) and her awestruck new partner Bernard (voiced by Bob Newhart) set out on a mission to save the poor girl from the clutches of the vile Madame Medusa and her nefarious cohorts.
The story is fine, though it rockets by quite quickly (even for a Disney film). The problem here is the animation. I hate to sound like a broken record but Disney botched most of its animated films through the 60s and 70s with lower-quality animation techniques. Thankfully, the xerographic technique seems to be improving because there aren’t anywhere near as many sketch lines running through the characters this time. Unfortunately, the animation here is some of the flattest in Disney history. Instead of detailed backgrounds that move with the characters like a real environment, many times The Rescuers involves static (but well drawn) storybook-like backdrops over which very two-dimensional characters moved. I find the lack of depth disconcerting. Rather than moving through space, characters simply move across the screen.
From researching the history of Walt Disney and the studio’s successes and struggles after his passing, I know that animator Don Bluth had once worked for Disney before defecting to make his own studio (and taking a number of young Disney animators with him). Within the first minute of this film, Don Bluth’s influence is felt heavily- the darker tones, a more ethereal and blended color palette, and minimal lines separating elements and characters on the screen. It all looks interesting, and works quite well with Don Bluth’s independently-made films, but it just doesn’t resemble a Disney film.
Maybe I’m biased because I grew up during the Disney Renaissance. Those films and the early films are the best stuff Disney Studios ever made. I can see how this totally different art direction seemed like a good shot to the arm at the time but I don’t think Disney could have sustained such moody atmospherics in films geared towards children. Breaking away from the formula can be a good thing (they certainly seemed stuck in something of a stylistic rut for a while) but The Rescuers diverges away from the “Disney formula” so much that it feels un-Disney.
Am I becoming some kind of obsessive Disney purist? Gosh, I hope not. I just can’t help but feel that this film is a tad too violent (yet corny at times as well- go figure!) and stylistically different from everything else I know to be a Disney product. I love the characters of Bernard and Bianca and their budding romance is cute to watch. Aside from this occasional cuteness, the film leaves me feeling on edge. Fortunately, Don Bluth and Disney would only share their awkward relationship partway into their next film.
I can’t speak for everyone out there but I think that most of you will be able to feel better about your family life after seeing this film. Featuring almost every potential parental conundrum of the 1980s, Parenthood is an interesting pill to swallow. Director Ron Howard delivers a kind of flipside to the John Hughes 80s teen coming-of-age flick with a look at the parents of the 80s- those poor souls who grew up in the idyllic 60s and 70s that must now deal with their Hughesian archetypal children and the insanity of the 80s.
