Well.
Not only am I posting very late today, but I have absolutely nothing to say about asthma, children’s health, or air quality, all because I went to see Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who! this morning. See, the awesome thing about working from home is that I’m available for field trips.
And the difficult thing about working from home is that I’m available for field trips.
Not that I don’t adore spending time with my daughters, of course, and if there’s a sillier, more goofy way to start your week than a Dr. Seuss movie with a theater full of kindergarteners, I can’t imagine it. But occasionally—only occasionally, mind you—juggling a freelance workload with my role as the daytime go-to parent is a little wearying.
Here’s something else that wearies me. You know those movies with minor nagging plot details that drive you to major distraction?
Yeah, this one was of those. Other Horton reviews say this movie mostly gets it right with a return to animation after the last two horrible live-action Seuss movies, and I agree. The visuals in the Who portions especially pop, pulled right off the book’s pages with their crazy-angle dimensions and carnival colors. Plus, animation means we can hear Jim Carrey without actually having to watch him. Jim Carrey is one of those polarizing figures in the movies, and while I’m just not a fan of his particular brand of physical comedy, his voicework for Horton went over okay.
But.
Remember Jo-Jo in the original story? The lazy character at the end of the book who finally spoke up and swelled the Whos’ cries of “We are here! We are here!” to a level loud enough for the skeptics in Horton’s jungle to hear? This movie beefs up that character and turns him into the Mayor’s son. The only son in a family with 96 daughters.
And Jo-Jo is an angsty teenage kid with issues. Namely, his father doesn’t understand him and the two don’t communicate well. Which is pretty much status-quo at some point in every child/parent relationship, but in this movie, the father wants to groom Jo-Jo to be Mayor himself one day, and Jo-Jo obviously has other plans for himself. It’s a familiar conflict that’s sweetly resolved at the end, and clearly the Mayor worries about the relationship with his son at the same time that he fears the fate of Who-ville, riding a speck of dust through Horton’s world. But, hello?
The man has 96 other children.
I’m trying—and failing, utterly—to imagine this writing decision, to focus on whether the only son would follow on his father’s career path while ignoring the fact that any of the many, many daughters could become Mayor instead.
Really? Really?
In 2008?
Honestly, I know I’m making a huge issue out of a tiny plot point in an otherwise charming movie, but come on. Almost 100 children and one–one–is singled out for his father’s profession by virtue of his gender?
When I got home, I read some reviews and checked my favorite feminist sites because I thought, *Surely I’m not crazy. Someone else must have written about this.* But no, actually, and finding nothing made me pause and consider whether the Jo-Jo/Mayor dynamic is a molehill and this post is the mountain.
Only for about 3 seconds, though, because you know what?
Movies mean something to kids. Pop culture means something to society. That’s why it’s called culture. When movies and television and radio send out messages that relegate girls to the background or render them one-dimensional or powerless next to the male characters, that tells my daughters something about expectations for girls. Even if my six year-old doesn’t notice these messages yet, she will someday.
If you want to read what people other than me think of the movie, check these out:
Rotten Tomatoes listing for Horton Hears a Who!
Richard Corliss’ review
A.O. Scott’s review
Amy, Amy Amy, I love you!! Jo Jo was singled out for being the oldest child, he just happened, well maybe not JUST happened, to be male. Now, you know when I saw the movie this weekend and the Jo Jo plot began I was thinking like you, but after the walk through history with plenty of female mayors and I think a voice over from Charles explaning that jo jo was the OLDEST child, I moved past it and ended up loving the movie. Although there were like 5 crying babies whose mothers did NOT feel the need to remove them from the theatre, I hate that. I totally agree with you about the Jim Carey thing!
Well, but why the need for 96 daughters and only one son in the first place? Why not 97 SONS, and then the oldest child argument works better. Or half sons and half daughters? Sorry, but with only one boy out of 97 kids, I think the subtext is still there. Even in the very beginning, in the kid assembly line/timer scene, the ONLY child the Mayor has extra time for is—guess who? The son.
I don’t mean to imply some sneaky secret agenda here–I’m just saying the gender issue could have been handled a little more thoughtfully.
Don’t get me wrong–I really enjoyed the movie, and I think that’s why this part bugged me so much. Such a worthy message–”A person’s a person, no matter how small”—was not nearly as effective to me in the movie as in the book b/c of it.
(And I had no crying babies around me, but was seated next to the kid in the class with quite possibly the loudest *Inside Voice* I have ever heard.)
Amy, I couldn’t agree with you more. I, too, did searches to see who else out there was appalled by this bad writing choice. I’m a screenwriter myself, and I see absolutely no justification for the 96 daughters conceit. It’s not even that funny. “Oh, girls are so silly and useless. And the smart ones are so ugly.” Yeah. Ha ha.
I doubt the writers thought much about it at all; in other words, I think this is an insidious message, but probably unplanned. And unchallenged by any one of the talented and intelligent people involved, which is wholly depressing.
I’ll give the movie this: it was fun to look at, the writers kept the inappropriate innuendo to a minimum, and the actors were natural. Especially Carol Burnett. My favorite scene was the one with her and Vlad (not the bunny). That was really well crafted and funny.
Thank you for being the lone voice out there who wrote EXACTLY what I was thinking. This is the first time I’ve ever commented on a blog. With two young boys, and work, and writing, it’s not easy to find the time, but after I read your piece I felt compelled.
Again, thanks.
Hi Isadora, and thanks so much for your comment.
And also for providing some screenwriting insight. You touched on another part of the problem I didn’t mention b/c of space—-those 96 daughters are lumped altogether in one big silly group, frivolous and—as you say—-useless.
That water scene at bedtime, in particular. That one really irked me, right down to the portrayal of the daughters’ bedroom as some kind of human anthill or beehive.
And yeah, why didn’t anyone stop and say, “Uh, wait a minute, guys. Let’s look at how we’re portraying girls here. Maybe we should tweak this a little bit.”
It’s a shame because they really did get so much else right.
Dr. Seuss is classic, i forgot how much that guy packed into such simple storylines… they didn’t add much to the original story either except for the usual Jim Carreyisms.