DAD'S LIFE:There's such pleasure in watching the old films with a fresh eye
ONE OF THE least fatigue-inducing aspects of parenting is getting to revisit kids' movies. Even before mine came along I had the privilege of bringing my niece to the cinema for the first time. Shrek. Katie was four.
I’ve always loved the cinema: the velour seats, all-encomp- assing darkness, Dolby, munchies, the unfolding story.
I saw The Doorsmovie the afternoon it opened in a quarter-full Savoy. 1 left and bought most of their back catalogue. For a good week I was Jim.
My mates and I burst from the same cinema following the opening night of In The Name Of The Father, roaring we were innocent men and we were leaving by the front door. I stayed in the building when Pulp Fictionended and snuck back to my seat to watch it over again. Movies bring you elsewhere, just for a little while.
But the dross piles up. After one Time Traveller's Wifetoo many, we're going to scream for those wasted hours back. We're going to look at Keanu in The Day The Earth Stood Stilland rise up to reclaim our money. Exit, never to return.
That day Katie watched Shrekin astonishment. Her hand moved between bag of jellies and mouth throughout, pausing often as her eyebrows raised, shrieking, giggling, chirruping. I watched the film and I watched her. Here she was, for the first time, brought to this cave and told to sit, unknowing. The curtains part and a wall of images and a wave of sound rush at her. She revels in it, beaming. She brought me with her, back to when it was special.
In my excitement to witness the same reaction in my own kids, I took them too early. The elder, only two, slept on my shoulder for the duration. The movie’s name escapes me.
The same for the younger’s maiden voyage. She was terrified of the dark and kicked up a fit when the sweets ended. But since then there have been good times, both at the cinema and at home.
We catch the big ones when they come out and we’ve revisited the kiddie cannon at home. All the Disney classics, Pixar’s best. We’ve sat, piled on the couch and got to know Woodie, Buzz, Cinders and Nemo as we munch and munch.
We've hit a wall now though. They are advancing to non-animated features. Goodbye Wall-E, hello Hotel For Dogs, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, Space Buddies.
In fact, hello anything with talking animals, usually voiced by someone whose name is on the tip of your tongue, so you spend the entire 90 minutes thinking: “Oh my god, I’m being driven demented by that guy, the fella from, y’know that series . . . Aaaarrgh.” This is not good, for you or them.
Kids automatically know cartoons are fake. You can all share in their audacity. But with the talking animal variety they're testing the film world for reality. You don't want them taking cues from a Julia Roberts-voiced, spoilt chihuahua. You don't want anything to do with that. You'd rather inflict Keanu's wooden head from The Day The World Stood Stillon them. All those cosy winter afternoons together in front of the box fade as you note the child approach with a box-set of Beethoven(the mutt, not the composer) in her paw.
Now is the time to pull out the heavy artillery. Enter Spielberg.
I bought ETfor the kids, but wound up watching it for myself. There's Drew, all blonde and squeaky, before drugs and rehab and ultimate emancipation. The big brother, gawky and bumbling. Elliot, lost and angry. This time round I notice the mom, sad, struggling with having been left. But most of all, I notice she was rather hot.
ETdoesn't pander to kids. It's tough enough. They shout at each other, the parents aren't present much, the big boys pick on little boys. It's a film about a lost alien and yet it's more real than Hannah Montana will ever be.
I watched it with fresh eyes and saw my kids soak it up, much as Katie had Shrek.
My two are becoming a sophisticated audience. It's awful to hear a knowing chuckle from a child evinced from dialogue designed to draw knowing, world-weary chuckles from under-10s. Pre-teen dramas suck for that reason. Whereas ETrules.
Hooked from the first sight of a gnarly, pool-cue length finger, they belly-laughed throughout. They crawled on our laps for the sad bits. They cheered in victory at the end. It’s a great movie, not just because it’s a skilfully told tale. It’s great because it treats kids like real people.