The success of Disney’s family movies has long been attributed to the idea that what are commonly referred to as “kid movies” are actually very grown up movies in disguise. Typically, we mean that its story disguises mature and developed schools of thought and moralities in its colorful characters, clever humor and often catchy musical numbers.
But Christopher Robin feels like the first film the studio has produced in ages that actively jumps over its typical demographic of children ages 2-12 to tell a story specifically for and directly about an earlier generation who was raised on classic Disney films. More specifically, children will be attracted as ever to the residents of the Hundred Acre Wood, but Christopher Robin is all about their parents.
In truth, it is difficult to imagine most kids not being bored by a solid two-thirds of this movie. Ewan McGregor’s titular character serves as both central protagonist and audience surrogate for those who have grown up and left their memories of the Hundred Acre Wood behind. Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Eeyore, Rabbit, Owl, Kanga and Roo are all present, but the biggest focus is on McGregor as he navigates his adult responsibilities, a different person from the Christopher Robin that Pooh and co. remember him being. It is a story of both family and growing up and not falling so far into the obligations of the real world that you lose who you are.
Most notably, the tone and style of this film distinguishes it from any Winnie the Pooh film that has come before it. This is the same Pooh and co. audiences grew up with (voiced again by the spectacular Jim Cummings, as well as newly added vocal talent of Peter Capaldi, Toby Jones, Brad Garrett and Nick Mohammed), as innocent and carefree as ever. What’s changed is the world around them. The Hundred Acre Wood feels empty. The bright colors of their fur and fabric have faded to muted paleness as the years have gone by. But most of all, the Christopher Robin they know and love, the one they looked up to as a hero and the true soul of the Wood is gone. Despite being a Winnie the Pooh adventure, Christopher Robin is even melancholic than fun.
Of course, you will never catch them moping about, wishing things weren’t the way that they are. That is what separates Pooh from most children’s adventures: he has an unbreakable playful innocence and not a single jealous or angry stitch in his stuffing. So, when the years go by after Christopher Robin leaves the Wood for the last time, or when he is outright rude to Pooh after they are reunited, the impact feels even sadder because the neglect or anger being shown to him is an action or emotion he will never understand. “But I haven’t thought about you guys in years,” Christopher Robin exclaims. “But, we think about you every day,” Pooh responds, not to guilt him, but as a plain matter of fact.
The saccharine moments of heart and sorrow cut through me like butter, but it does unavoidably feel as though the movie pulls a few of its punches. At several moments, the film has the opportunity to be truly devastating, but seems to shy away at the last minute. The opening time lapse montage is perhaps the point with the most emotional impact as we are treated to a Winnie the Pooh take on the gut punch of Futurama‘s “Jurassic Bark.”
As much as we love exploring the reconnected relationship between Christopher Robin and Pooh, the real story lies in the former’s relationship to his family. He has thrown himself so far into his work for Mark Gatiss’s character that he both knowingly neglects his family and unknowingly makes his daughter, Madeline (Bronte Carmichael), miserable. This is not to say that Christopher Robin has become a heartless machine. He is not a stand-in for Ebenezer Scrooge, who must earn his redemption. The objective is to make him rediscover who he is outside his work, both the as the friend Pooh had and as the man his wife, Evelyn (Hayley Atwell), fell in love with. The old Christopher Robin is still in there, and it is a credit to McGregor’s performance how layered he makes this character feel as he struggles to bring him out.
The old Christopher is brought out by helping the Hundred Acre Wood gang and in turn their helping him. It is through both that Christopher Robin comes to understand the importance of childhood and patience, that applying an adult rationale to any given problem is not always the solution. That cause and effect-driven logic and reason are not the best solution to every problem. He learns the value in play and danger in knowledge, both with his animal friends and with his family. Watching McGregor’s performance as he sheds his distant, work-driven exterior to be the Christopher Robin they know is both gradual and delightful. And when John Brian and Geoff Zanelli’s score seamlessly recalls the melody for the Winnie the Pooh theme, the emotional connection rebuilt between Christopher Robin to the other characters, or from audience to the film, is instant.
It is that performance’s shoulders on which the entire movie rests. Christopher Robin, the character and the film, works because he is us. He is the child who spent countless hours getting caught up in Pooh’s adventures. He is the boy who could not stay in the Hundred Acre Wood forever and one day left it behind. He is the grown adult who has not even thought of any of the beloved characters in decades.
Where we differ from our protagonist is in our goals and empathies. We feel the white-hot guilt and shame for his behavior toward Pooh and his family that he does not, and it is the resolution of precisely that that makes Christopher Robin such a warm and satisfying experience. McGregor captures all of this with improbably sympathetic humanity and whimsical humor that reassures us even though he may not admit it, he will always have a soft spot for that silly, old bear.
The plot and morals of holding onto one’s youth and innocence in the overwhelming face of adult life is far from unique, and it is in that respect that Christopher Robin does take a turn for the formulaic. The story functions incredibly well, but when it refuses to take some of its beats and themes to their furthest extent, it leaves its audience satisfied but wondering if it could have been better. It may be too much to expect such above average screenwriting from a Disney family film, but I left the film feeling ever so slightly empty, as though a half-measure had been taken in crafting a wholesome, nostalgic experience rather than one that goes all-in.
But a handful of what-ifs and why-nots should not soil anyone’s enjoyment of such an unabashedly pure piece of family entertainment. Christopher Robin is the bookend to the many adventures of Winnie the Pooh that I never asked for but always needed. It makes no undue assumptions about itself or what it is or what it will mean to its audience. It may not appeal to the kids it attracts with Pooh and friends in its marketing, but parents will be more than satisfied as the film touches their inner sensibilities and challenges them to do the impossible: nothing.
Rating: 7/10
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