Pioneer Valley Days

We Have Ways of Making You Care

I know Nate usually writes his Media Corner entries, but I'm taking over the keyboard for this one, because I think his own review might be a little too ... um ... positive. This was his very first movie-theater experience, complete with popcorn and lemonade, and he had a terrific time. So did I, actually, despite the fact that we saw...

Care Bears: Oopsy Does It!
directed by Davis Doi

So ... the Care Bears live in the clouds -- in more ways than one, as we shall soon discover. As our story begins, five of them are building an amusement park called WooHoo World, but Oopsy, an accident-prone bear, keeps devastating the park with minor stumbles that quickly evolve into Rube Goldberg-style waves of destruction. I’ve seen carnivals set up in shopping mall parking lots -- staffed by nose-pierced 17-year-olds who smell like Otto’s jacket -- that seem more structurally sound than this outfit. The ferris wheel actually rolls off its base twice during the 71-minute adventure.

Anyway, the other four bears -- Cheer, Share, Funshine, and Grumpy -- who can work magic with their “belly badges” (a cloud, a sun, a rainbow, etc.), send the badgeless Oopsy (who draws pictures on his own belly with a dry-erase marker to illustrate his mood; the artistic quality’s more Yoji than Garver, but at least it’s not permanent) off to perform menial, non-hazardous tasks. Eventually, he meets up with Wingnut, the robotic pet of a thoroughly hard-hearted bear named Grizzle who lives high above the amusement park on a floating, stalactite-festooned rock that looks like the home of the Hawkmen in Flash Gordon, had Brian Blessed and his flock really let the place go to pot. There, outfitted in a giant suit of armor, Grizzle is putting the final touches on -- what a coincidence! -- a thrill ride, called the Caretaker, that steals belly badges from its riders and (in theory) transfers their power to Grizzle, so he can rule Carebearistan … I mean, Care-a-Lot. But the contraption won’t work until he first collects three badges from the Six Flags contractors working below, so he persuades Oopsy to grab his friends’ pelts and bring them back to the floating rock. Oo-wa-ha-ha!

Oopsy, suspecting nothing amiss, goes along with this plan. Later, Cheer shows up at Grizzle’s lair and gleefully test-rides the Caretaker, and gets tossed, suddenly badgeless, into a cell with Oopsy for her trouble. Still later, all the other Care Bears unwittingly trade their badges for a ride, too, despite the heavy odor of “something not quite right” in the air. The problem is, these Prozac-addled ursines are so blinded by all the pastel colors -- really, the animation is headache-inducing after a while -- and so preoccupied with being (as Grizzle puts it) “always helpful, always singing, always happy, always caring,” that they just don’t recognize actual evil in the world. Well, Grumpy Bear (the one with the cloud badge) sort of does, expressing some skepticism about Grizzle’s intentions, even as the rest of his kind stubbornly deny the very real threat before them. Grumpy is the Joe Lieberman of this film.

You can probably guess what happens next. The bears get their badges back, and Grizzle gets a one-way rollercoaster ride back to his lair -- but only after the Care Bears demonstrate that losing their belly badges doesn’t hinder their ability to care, and that the power of the badges is useless in the hands of someone who doesn’t care. “I don’t do caring,” Grizzle says at this point. Well, I don’t do Thai cooking, but if it meant world domination, I’d probably at least, you know, try.

So, let’s recap the elements of this tale. We have irrationally happy critters full of goodwill and cheer, and a bitter fellow who lives above them, looks down upon them, and is extremely irritated by said irrational cheer. He hatches a plan to steal their joy through theft. He enlists his reluctant, basically good-hearted sidekick/servant, who transports him down to the happy folks’ village. Although the nefarious plan succeeds, he discovers he cannot steal their joy; in fact, they remain happy and caring despite losing some precious possessions. The park, let’s note once again, is called WooHoo World. The villain’s name begins with G-r-i…

In the end, I didn’t find the movie all that interesting. But I’ll bet Audrey Geisel’s lawyers would.

Hello? Plot? Hello?

Click, Clack, Quackity-Quack
by Doreen Cronin and Betsy Lewin

OK, color me disappointed (although the color is my favorite, yellow -- or, as I call it, lellow). When Dad picked up this follow-up to Cronin's classic Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type, I was psyched for another hard-hitting tale of labor unions and blackmail. What I got was silly animals on a silly picnic trying to teach me the alphabet with a bunch of silly alliterative sounds. Thanks, Dad, but at bedtime, I want dark plots, thinly veiled threats, and ransom notes, not alphabetical frolicking and cavorting. I want to be thrilled, not educated. It's as if Ron Howard had made Ransom II, in which Mel Gibson frantically runs around yelling, "Give me back my son.........'s Speak and Spell!" And then he goes off on a tirade against the public school system. And Jews.

Evenings Are Looking Up

Bedtime Lullabies from Johnson's

Today on Nate's Media Corner, we'll discuss the most insidious musical trash aimed at children since the Ocean Wonders Aquarium. I'm speaking, of course, of Bedtime Lullabies from Johnson's, which -- hold on there, Dad. Don't you dare put that in the CD player. I'm going to cry tonight, for hours on end like I did last Friday, and you're not going to stop me. Yeah, that's right. Sit down and read Hop on Pop, and give me my sippy cup of extremely watered-down juice. I need all the energy I can muster for tonight's crying jag. Just forget about the CD, OK?

Anyway, the album kicks off with "Drift Away," which the extraordinarily evil Tanya Goodman has graced with lyrics like, "Drift away / Dream away / Drift away far / Slide down a rainbow / Swing on a star." The valium-addled singer sounds like she's falling asleep herself, which never helps as you're trying to stay awake. What's that, Dad? It's crib time? OK, but you're in big trouble, bub. That Fruit2O knockoff you gave me has given me just enough strength to stand up and cr-- Hey, don't turn the CD player on! Hey, is that the opening notes of "Drift Away"? It is, isn't it? Well, I don't care, because I'm going to-- Lie down, you say? OK.

Wow. Crib so comfy. Pooh so soft. Music so soothing. Slumber so welcome. Zzzzzzwait a second! I'm not lying down! I'm gonna fight! Oh, so now "The Rocking Horse Song" is on, is it? Bonnie Nichols thought she was being cute by penning thoughts such as "We'll ride a rocking horse / He'll jump right over the moon, of course." Well, that makes me want to stand up, look at my own rocking horse, and cry because I'm in my stupid crib and not riding it! How's that, Bonnie? I'll just stand here and stare at my horse and cry! OK, I'll sit down and think about my horse. OK, maybe I'll lie down here with my eyes wide open and ... OK, partly open, and ... dream ... about ... my horse. Nice horse. Good horzzzzzzz

Hey, who made me lie down? I should still be standing up and crying! Oh, no. The music's still on. Is it "May All Your Dreams Come True"? "Lullaby Wishes"? "Snuggle Up"? Heavens forbid, "Baby Love"? It doesn't matter. They all run together after awhile, while Loretta Ritalynn, or whatever the singer's name is, just keeps crooning and gazing blankly ahead. Mmm. Music softer now. So relaxed. Room shimmering. Dreams beginning. Pooh so soft. Drift away. Drift away. Drift awazzzzzzz

Yes, that's right. All the songs repeat, in instrumental versions. That is just malicious.

Egging the Readers On

Quack!
by Phyllis Root and Holly Meade

Today on Nate's Media Corner, we review Quack!, Phyllis Root's deceptively simple story about five ducklings and their attentive mother. If there's one thing you can say about Root's terse prose, it's that she dives right into the action on page 1. Mom and Dad have really taken to this book, because when I hand it to them at night, they take turns reciting the narrative with uncanny accuracy, even though they're sitting across the room from each other.

Mom: "Mama duck calls..."
Dad: "Quack quack quack!"
Mom: "Ducklings hatching..."
Dad: "Crack crack crack!"

Sometimes Dad delivers that last line with an authentic cracking sound in the back of his throat, but sometimes, when he's distracted (say, if Big Papi is batting), the line can come off as rote and unrealistic, more like a street-corner entrepreneur hawking his wares in Holyoke than an actual hatching egg. But that's OK.

Mom: "Baby ducklings, in a heap, tumble out..."
Dad: "Peep peep peep!"
Mom: "Ducklings waddle. Ducklings trip. Duckling wings go..."
Dad: "Flip flap flip!"

This is where Holly Meade's striking illustrations really shine. You can sense the sheer joy of flapping and flipping on the faces of the young chicks, even if the enthusiasm isn't evident in Dad's voice, seeing as Ortiz just laced a single between first and second despite the extreme defensive shift.

Mom: "Wherever Mama goes, they go..."
Dad: "Come on, Manny. Baby ducklings in a row."
Mom: "Baby ducklings nip and nibble. Duckling tails go..."
Dad: "Wobble wibble. What are you swinging at?"

Sure, I'm not always completely sold on the wobbling and wibbling, which, in Dad's rendition, can come off as somewhat monotonous -- a far cry from Meade's joyous drawings of the ducklings shaking their fluffy stuff. But I can overlook that, considering how exciting the ending of this masterwork is.

Mom: "Baby ducklings, in a dash, find a puddle..."
Dad: "Splish splosh how many baserunners are we going to strand tonight splash!"

Man, that part always gets to me. Anyway, I highly recommend Quack! It works on so many levels that you'll love it the 1,787th time you read it as much as the first. Take it from me.

What's Gonna Work? Teamwork!

The Wonder Pets

Last night, Mom and Dad stumbled across a show called The Wonder Pets, and I immediately knew it would have to be the next entry in Nate's Media Corner. But first, let's get one thing clear -- I didn't actually see much of this show, as I spent most of the half-hour moving about the living room and playing with my toys, pausing only occasionally to pick up Dad's jaw, which was on the floor.

The Wonder Pets are these three celery-addicted animals -- a guinea pig, a turtle, and a baby duck -- who live in a little schoolhouse and look a little too realistic to be cartoons, yet not quite realistic enough to be real animals. The overall effect is kind of creepy, but not creepy on the level of, say, Lazy Town, or Allie's "blood on the walls" moment on The Apprentice this week (I'm told). Just so we're clear.

Anyway, these three animals have a magic tin can, into which they gaze to locate animals who need their help. In the episode that aired last night, a panda gets stuck in a tree somewhere in China. So the Wonder Pets board this upside-down Frisbee called a "flyboat" and take off for China, a journey that turns out to be much shorter than you would expect. When they land, they see bamboo trees nearby, so they realize this must be the place, because apparently these are the only bamboo trees in China. That's China for you -- one child per family, one bamboo grove per country.

Anyway, they find the panda, and with much discussion and teamwork -- that word comes up a lot -- they eventually build a ladder out of bamboo shoots and rescue the panda, whose mother then ambles in, making you wonder what she was doing all this time. Probably unsuccessfully trying to mate with some male panda at the national zoo, I would guess. She is very appreciative, however, and the celery addicts return home, their task complete.

Of course, this description doesn't paint the whole picture. You really have to experience this show yourself, because what really exalts it into the bizarro stratosphere is that every word is sung in the style of an opera. Think Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd singing about their "spear and magic helmet" in What's Opera, Doc? and you might get some idea. Dad could not stop laughing, even though he missed a few lines, as I was hanging onto his legs and spinning him around in the Lazy Boy, like -- and these are Dad's words -- "a blind slave grinding corn."

Dad has now watched several segments of this show, including adventures where the Wonder Pets rescue a mouse who's stuck in a saxophone and a triceratops -- yes, a triceratops; I guess they stole enough plutonium from the Libyans to power the flux capacitor -- who was stuck between two rocks. In fact, the critters seem to specialize in getting other animals unstuck from tight places. I'd like to see them tackle emotional and relationship problems, but I guess that's why we have Dr. Phil.

Then again, Dr. Phil doesn't end every show by singing, "We're not too big, and we're not too tough, but when we work together, we've got the right stuff!" Also, Dr. Phil doesn't have a flying Frisbee.

Desser Is Dead. Long Live Desser.

Hi, Nathan here. Today, while crawling around the children's section of the local library, I decided to launch a new feature here at Pioneer Valley Days called Nate's Media Corner, detailing the various books, music, and video to which my parents are exposing me. And before I forget about it -- because we returned it to the library today -- I really must tell you about...

Desser the Best Ever Cat
by Maggie Smith

This book is truly remarkable, because it tells different stories every time you open it. Who knew books could be so high-tech? Get this: when Mom first read this to me, I learned that Desser is a cat whose real name is Dexter, but the kid in the book is too lazy to enunciate it properly. Sort of like how Laura Ingalls started calling Almonzo "Manly" instead of his real nickname, "Manny," so he let her continue to call him that. Dumb frontier Minnesotans. Anyway, despite her lack of command of the English language, the narrator of Desser develops a lovely friendship with the titular cat. The illustration of Desser sleeping on her bed touched my tiny heart. I was hooked.

Anyway, one day the cat gets sick, and the girl worries that Desser is well into his ninth life. The parents, who aren't exactly Bill Clinton when it comes to lying to loved ones, are all like, "Um, uh, yeah ... hey, what's on TV?" But even though they know Desser's on his last paws, they let him sleep with the girl one last time. It's actually very moving, and Mom was having some trouble getting through it. In the morning, when the girl wakes up, Desser is gone ... for good. It's really sad. Even when the girl gets another kitty, the book maintains a melancholy note that's tough to shake. I believed, in that moment, that Desser really was the best-ever cat.

You might think that's the end of my Desser experience. But then Dad began reading it out loud a few days later, and -- wonder of wonders -- the story changed! It was really wild! The first part of the book was the same, but this is how it ended:

"Then, one day Desser wasn't feeling very well. But the doctor gave him some medicine, and he felt much better, and we went out and played. The end."

I actually like the first version better. It has a raw emotional impact, while the second version just seems abrupt and unfinished. But it kind of worked out for the best, because Dad can't get through The Velveteen Rabbit and certain episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation without crying, so I don't think he would have done well with the first version of Desser. I don't know what mysteries the book would have held on a third reading, because, as I said, we returned it to the library. But someday, maybe I will rediscover the joy and wonder of that cute, dead -- or perhaps not-so-dead -- cat.