Plot Holes in Stephen Spielberg's Hook, Explicated by the Original Novel by JM Barrie

Title: Hook
Copyright: Amblin Entertainment, Lucasfilm, Columbia/TriStar Pictures
Starring: Robin Williams, Dustin Hoffman, Bob Hoskins, Julia Roberts, Maggie Smith
Running Time: 144 minutes
Score: 8.5/10
Buy?: Buy at Amazon for $8.49 or less. You can also view it on their On Demand channel, for rent, for $2.99.

Peter Pan is a staple of children's fantasy today. The Disney version created much of the common knowledge American audiences have about the canon -- a lot of which is inaccurate. But still, the original novel, published in 1911 (turning 100 years old this October), despite being an adaptation, itself, is one of the best written portrayals of childlike wonder in the world. It's simple, yet sophisticated, whimsical, yet surprisingly dark.

The original novel practically invented the notion of a parallel universe AND the entire "creepy kid" genre in fiction. Silent Hill, Rule of Rose, Interview with the Vampire, Lord of the Flies, and every. creepy. kid. book. or. movie. or. game. owes thanks to J.M. Barrie's Peter and Wendy for kickstarting the fad, and most people who love the original story don't even pick up on this.

To die would be an awfully big adventure.

Its views of childlike innocence are complex, spanning a range of themes from the importance of growing up, the dichotomy between children and adults, the morality of innocence (or lack thereof), and even the differing roles of women.

The story is world-renowned, though we in the US are generally more able to identify tropes from the Disney animated feature than any other version of the story. Don't believe me? Here are a few things most people think are part of the Peter Pan mythos that only exist in the Disney version:

1. "Second star to the right and straight on till morning."
2. Tinker Bell existing at any point after the main story is over.
3. Peter Pan featured as a teenager.
4. Wendy being "forced" by her parents to grow up.

Do all of these look familiar? That's because most media released based on Peter Pan anymore tends to refer more to the Disney version than the book. Bear these points in mind, because they come into play in my review.

The Movie: Today's movie, Hook, released in 1991, was built from a screenplay by J.V. Hart, who as far as writers in the fandom go, is the one author I've come across that knows his book canon and understands the spirit of the original novel, and a lot of this shows through in his handling of the characters.

Hook is a "what if" story, telling what would have occurred had Peter decided not to go back to Never Never Land. The answer is that he grew up and became exactly the sort of father and husband he always playacted in the book -- obsessed with work, unnecessarily hard on his children, and with no inner child whatsoever. He became the sort of person that children fear becoming when they do not wish to grow up. Now Peter Banning, he is a lawyer with his gargantuan cellular phone permanently attached to his ear.

He has two children with Moira, the granddaughter of his beloved Wendy, whom he now regards more as a benefactor like many other orphans she has rescued. Maggie is a sweet little girl, more exuberant than Wendy as a child, and still small enough to believe in the story of Peter Pan. She vies for her father's attention playfully and always seems to try not to take it personally when he rather bluntly contradicts her childish fancies, as though she simply expects fathers to do this. She asks him if Granny Wendy is the "really real" Wendy from the story, to which he sternly replies "no", and his wife tells him where he can shove it – and it plays off as though this is probably a regular occurrence in their household. Jack, her older brother, was recently disappointed (probably not for the first time) when Peter promised to come to a baseball game, only for him to get tied up in work, as usual, and miss it entirely. He's grown jaded by Peter's constant broken promises, and it's causing him to act out. Unfortunately, important business matters are keeping Peter on the phone even while on vacation, and he's so stressed that attempts made by both children to coax him into playing with them only end in random fits of rage.

No one is surprised at this point that Peter Pan didn't want to grow up. Kid at least knew he'd be a dick.

What's more important is that Peter is so busy being the worst father ever that he completely ignores Maggie's early warnings that since their arrival in London there's been a man coming to their window at night, claiming to be a window washer. This should be alarming enough as the bedroom window in question is three stories off the ground. Jack also complains of some of his possessions going missing. Perhaps he put these off as simple "monster under the bed" daydreaming and childish misplacement, but if I'm in a strange place and my kid claims that some creeper has been climbing up and looking into the window (much less taking things, which this one has), I'd look into it. I certainly wouldn't leave them alone to go to a party. Considering Jack even says that they have bars on their windows at home, it's not like Peter Banning is an idiot when it comes to safety anyway.

But this is what happens. Peter, Moira, and Wendy go to a gala being held in Wendy's honor, as her efforts have led to the successful adoption of many orphans whom she took in and fostered herself, including Peter, and this is the sort of thing that leads hospital boards to dedicate an entire new wing to you. The party goes over well, and meanwhile, back at home, Toodles (Wendy's first orphan, now elderly and regressed to a childlike state), senses the approach of something sinister, (back at the party Wendy likewise briefly senses a great disturbance in the Force,) and the children are stolen from their beds in the night.

Peter, Moira, and Wendy return home to find that someone has broken into the house. The maid, Liza, is in hysterics, and the nursery is empty, but for a letter left on the door, addressed to Peter, requesting his presence on behalf of his children, signed "Jas. Hook, Captain".

The police are baffled and assume it’s some sort of prank, given the unique history of the house and its inhabitants – which are apparently chalked up to nothing more than urban legend surrounding the famous children’s book. Wendy has a different view, and in the privacy of her bedroom she confesses to Peter that he is Peter Pan from the book and play, and that his children have been taken by Captain Hook as revenge. It’s a notion that he, being understandably frightened, tries to put off as a sign that Granny Wendy might be going a little senile.

He should have realized something was wrong when she claimed she could turn into a cat.

Hoping perhaps to numb the pain of both losing his children in a foreign country and the medical costs he’s likely going to incur paying for a nurse for both Tootles and now Wendy, Peter adjourns to the nursery to sulk and get hammered. Given his present location and the intention behind his drinking, he should not have been surprised to see a fairy played by Julia Roberts fly into his window. We’ve all been there. In fact, after in the initial shock, he comes to his senses and reaches the same conclusion this writer would have: that he’s been drinking and it’s been a long, traumatic night, so he must be hallucinating. This satisfies him until the fairy, claiming to be Tinkerbell, kicks his ass and kidnaps him. The police will probably assume this was a prank, too, even when he shows them the pictures of Barbie-sized fist marks and footprints left on his face and the CAT scans showing his concussion.

He awakens in Neverland where the pirates, having been docked for so long with literally nothing to do, have built an entire village around the long-anchored Jolly Roger. There is now an entire colony of adults – both men and women – going about their lives in a very old-timey Pirates of the Caribbean-style. The ride, though. Not the movie. So there was less racism, ninja women, and Orlando Bloom (for which we are all grateful) – and more drinking and singing songs.

Only downside: Less Geoffrey Rush.

Here we discover that Hook has killed and stuffed the crocodile that stalked him for the entirety of the original novel, and that he has kidnapped Peter Pan’s children to lure him back there for a final battle. After killing a crewmember (presumably…probably) for betting that he wouldn’t find the children, he brings Jack and Maggie out to show them off, and discovers then that Peter Pan has already arrived. After much discussion and learning that Peter is a complete and utter douchenozzle, Hook concedes bitterly that his worthy opponent has forgotten everything about him – which honestly shouldn’t surprise him, but I’ll get to that later. He gives Peter one last chance to save his children and prove he’s the Peter he’s looking for, if he’ll fly up to his children (suspended in a net), and touch their hands. Naturally, Peter Banning can’t fly, and instead he climbs the mast and attempts to reach them before gravity reaches him. He freezes up in the riggings and can’t even throw himself onto the net with them. Hook is displeased to learn that not only has Peter forgotten him, but he is completely unmatched to him in every way. He’s out of shape, useless, and too craven for even his desperation to overpower his shortcomings. The disillusioned Captain is prepared to kill both him and his children and be done with it, when Tinkerbell intervenes and convinces him that she can whip Peter into shape in three days. Hook, being the King of unrealistic expectations, agrees to let her try and keeps the children.

The rest of the film features Peter rediscovering his childhood with the Lost Boys, overcoming his fears and proving that he is, in fact, Peter Pan – a notion angrily denied by the Lost Boys’ new leader, Rufio, who 20 years after the release of this movie is about as badass as an MC Hammer video – which is still more badass than Peter Banning. He has to learn to use his imagination and to defend himself, on top of just remembering that he used to do all this stuff without even thinking about it. It takes seeing Hook treat Jack like his own son to give him the determination, at least, to be willing to endure physical pain in order to save his children. Seeing him throw himself repeatedly from increasing heights in the hopes that each time he’ll fly (when he still doesn’t believe that he can) looks silly, but remember that back on Hook’s ship he wouldn’t even do that much, and Jack and Maggie were right there. Finally, he’s stricken with an epiphany, literally, and his memories, along with most of his Peter Pan powers, return to him. Once they come back fully, he very nearly forgets his wife and children, but Tinkerbell, of all persons, is the one who convinces him not to be selfish and keeps him on the straight and narrow.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island (after a botched suicide attempt), Hook decides he doesn’t just wish to fight Pan, but break his spirit, and begins attempting in earnest to brainwash the children. It doesn’t take with Maggie because she has fewer fears and angers to prey upon, but Jack, who was especially hurt by what seemed like Peter’s utter unwillingness to help him (on top of previous disappointments), is perfectly ready to place the blame and over the course of the next few days slowly begins to forget his family, even Maggie once the two are separated. Despite saying some utterly cruel things to Maggie within earshot of him, Jack responds immediately to Hook’s willingness to be friends with him because it’s the most positive attention he’s ever gotten from an adult male in his life. When the final battle comes days later, Peter will have to not only wrestle with his old demons, but also with the fact that his son only remembers Hook as his father now, and is completely happy with this.

Peter is honestly lucky. Imagine the psychological damage there would have been if the worst intentions Hook had for Jack didn’t just involve making him wear matching femmy getup.

Swords are drawn, pirates are battled, and justice is served – as you just about expect. Hooray.

6 Plot Holes or Questions:

Here’s where I’m taking a different turn on the usual format of my reviews. Typically, this is where I go into detail on the bad points in the movie. Other reviewers have done this admirably, so I feel no need to repeat what they’ve said here. I will however, talk about questions and proposed plot holes that I’ve found on the internet, because the original J.M. Barrie novel actually addresses (if not answers) a lot of them.

1. During the Final Battle, Maggie is being kept locked up with a group of random children we never see nor hear from again. Who were they? Did Hook capture any Lost Boys?

This is the only one that is not answered by the book. It just surprises me that no one ever talks about this, so I’m bringing it up here. No, these are not Lost Boys. Dialogue throughout the movie suggests that when Hook set out to find and capture Peter’s children, he honestly had no idea what the Hell he was doing. It’s kind of lucky on his part that he actually managed to do it at all, because he’d literally been stealing children from London for God knows how long – the police even mention multiple disappearances. Hook was only fortunate enough to finally come to the right window at a time when Peter and family just happened to be visiting London. It boggles the mind that he has the nerve to be surprised that because of his methods, some of his crewmembers – particularly those played by Glenn Close – were taking bets that he would eventually just give up and stop trying. …Because a sane person would have, and he’s regrettably the smartest adult on the island. Those children are the other children he kidnapped. You never see them again, which probably means that nobody ever took them home, and they’re still in Never Never Land not-remembering the parents back at home who are probably crying themselves to sleep every night.

2. Why does Maggie's singing entrance the pirates?

Because Neverland is a dick.

…No, not entirely. (This will be a common theme throughout this Q & A, though.) Something that is often debated among the characters in the original novel is the subject of mothers. Peter thinks mothers suck, because he has abandonment issues, and he forbids the very subject of them until he brings Wendy to Neverland, who is only cool because she’s also a child and therefore acceptable. ‘Mother’ seems to be the only acceptable role for girls in Neverland because Peters whims define reality (more on this in question 6), and he doesn’t really understand “sister” or “romantic interest” or “wife” as terms. It frustrates every poor stupid girl that develops a crush on him (and why they do when he’s still physically and mentally young enough to still have all his baby teeth is beyond me). The Pirates, especially Captain Hook, are quite reverent of mothers – Hook, himself was raised by his doting aunt, who believed he could do no wrong (and reportedly thought this “Pan” boy sounded like a trouble-maker). Mothers represent a calm and gentle authority, who have answers for everything, and who nurture and protect (in their own way), when the Neverland itself is not interested in doing any of those things (because it’s a dick). The pirates and the Lost Boys both seem interested in Wendy as a mother figure because she tells stories, and that is an act they associate with good mothers that both comforts and soothes them. Likewise, one can infer that singing lullabies probably fills a similar niche. So when Maggie is off by herself singing a song her mother sang to her, even though she’s really only doing it to comfort herself because she’s in a scary place and trying very hard not to forget home, it comforts everyone listening to it, too. Even Hook is affected by this.

3. Why does Peter age when he goes to Neverland for the first time, as a child? Why are half the Lost Boys teenagers?

Remember me saying that the whole “Wendy being forced to grow up” thing wasn’t in the book? It wasn’t. Not only was it not in the book, but ‘you’ll never grow up’ was not even really a selling point in getting Wendy and her brothers to come visit.

Why?

Because children do age in Neverland, except for Peter, unless he uses his control over reality to basically tailor them back down to an acceptable size. The book even not-so-subtly infers that when Lost Boys grow too much, Peter kills them. (He also ran the risk of killing them if he wanted to play “Pirates versus the Incredible Me!” and there were no pirates around. Peter Pan is a dick.) Yes, he has a way of making sure that doesn’t happen, but he also has the memory of a brain-damaged goldfish, and his priorities are kind of mixed up.

A better question to ask about the Lost Boys in Hook is why they aren’t fully grown. It’s very likely that they just learned to do the tailoring down, themselves, because Rufio is just as happy to kill adults as Peter was and a lot less “special” about it. Rufio is dangerous in a completely different way from Peter because he’s nearly an adult, himself, knows the difference between right and wrong and just plain doesn’t care so long as he gets to be in charge and continue playing Neverland like it’s a giant turf war.

So Peter stopped aging because he chose to stop aging and may have even gone backwards a little. The Lost Boys probably figured out how to do the same thing once he was gone.

4. Why does Peter, as a baby, know what death is?

I’m not going to say this is answered by the book, but it brings up points that probably compliment it. When Hook finds the Lost Boys’ hideaway and goes in to try and kill Peter while he sleeps, there’s a brief moment while watching him that he hesitates because he’s not such a little shit when he’s unconscious Peter is in the throes of full-on night terrors. The book even suggests that this happens to Peter literally every time he falls asleep. He is always happy when he is awake because he forgets absolutely anything that could make him unhappy. This includes familiar people dying, or killing people – which the book openly admits that he does pretty much on a regular basis – like, comes home covered in blood, there’s a body outside, and he can’t remember what he was doing before. This is a thing that happens. It is supposed that all these unremembered things come back when he sleeps, that he's dreaming about the dark origins of his being, etc.

Cheery, isn't it?

It’s very possible that Peter in the movie is just misremembering when it was that he understood what death was (because he doesn’t ever seem to fully grasp just what it is in the book, or care), or he just hadn’t forgotten enough of his adult self that he was able to let it in, and was using it as a good reason why it would suck to grow up.

Also, somebody should really call CPS on this lady. Who the Hell lets their kid blow away?

Another theory is that there may have been something psychologically off with this child to begin with.

Another one still is tied in with the previous question. Peter and Neverland seem to coexist, and it may be that the first time he did or witnessed horrible, traumatizing, and very grown up things, it made him forget (and continues to) so that he can go on being happy. And it just does the same thing to everyone else in differing degrees. (See Question 6 for more on this.)

5. Why doesn't Jack recognize Peter when he comes to rescue him?

Shortest and easiest answer ever! Because Neverland is a dick.

This time I’m actually quite serious. Not only is Jack in a place that just doesn’t like it when children experience separation anxiety from their parents, but he’s also the son of Peter Pan, the boy-King of dealing with your issues by forgetting they exist. His father made him sad, so it was very easy for Hook to slip in and completely reshape his view of the world. You’ll notice that during the baseball scene that it’s very likely he was beginning to forget his mother and Maggie, too, and it was only referencing (albeit accidentally) something that Maggie said that got through to him.

Because Neverland is a dick.

6. Why is Hook suicidal? Why isn't Smee nice and dapper like he is in the book/EVERY VERSION OF PETER PAN EVER?/Why is Neverland a dick?

Longest answer: The first two questions are shoved in together because I’m pretty sure they’re both for the same reason: Neverland drives grownups crazy.

The book describes two different Neverlands – the one that exists in the mind of every child (and adult – though they’re too old to “land there” any longer), and the one that Peter Pan calls home, which is pretty much a living dimension that shapes itself around his completely random and pointless whims. If he wants it to snow, it snows. The sun goes down when he decides it’s bedtime – and everything goes completely dark and sucks whenever ADD hits him and he leaves the island. There are no directions to Neverland that aren’t just made up. (In the book, he says his address is “Second to the right and straight on till morning”, and he only makes it up on the spot because he wants Wendy to be impressed.) You don’t find Neverland. Neverland takes you when it decides it wants to take you, and if you leave it’ll let you back in if and when it feels like it. Neverland is a dick. However, because reality there is completely dependent upon a child’s view of it, and that particular child thought that all grownups should die, it’s not a very kind reality for people who’ve passed the age of, like, thirteen. If you watch Nick Jr, though, it’s paradise!

Because, y’know, dimensions where reality shapes itself around the psychological issues of a single person at the center are never crappy places to live.

I’m not going to stop referencing this until someone agrees with me, damnit.

Neverland makes older people regress mentally, and Hook, in particular, seems to shift violently between being a cartoony, child-like vision of what a villain is supposed to be, and a grown man who appears to be painfully aware of what this place is doing to him. He is also the only adult who picks up on this, and laments that no one there understands him, least of all his men.

This relationship he has with the crew is kind of where Smee steps in. If you watch the movie, you can see that Hook has pretty much completely segregated himself from the rest of the crew – probably because when he does spend any amount of time with them, someone is getting shoved in boxes or shot. He really doesn’t care for them and doesn’t believe for a second that they give a damn about him. They were stupid to begin with and Neverland has just made them even more stupid and childish in the process. They’re actually a little better in Hook than they are in the book, but then without Peter there, everything, including the Lost Boys, seems to be a little more grown up. Smee, in the movie, serves as the smooth-talking press secretary for the Captain and the rest of the crew. He understands Hook’s higher diction and is able to translate it to the others and keep them interested. It’s not that he’s necessarily become more crude because Neverland has degenerated him; it was likely just the film’s interpretation of a part of his character in the novel. Hook secretly dislikes Smee because he has “perfect form” – meaning he’s just awesome without even trying to be. The children actually like Smee and want to hang around him and let him play with them; this pisses off the Hook because “no little children love him.” He even considers killing Smee over it, but Smee is also pretty much the only crew member that goes out of his way to look after him. He is much cleaner and nicer in the book – the sort of pirate that would stab you in the stomach and rather than clean his sword might polish his glasses in a worried manner mumbling “Oh dear me, what a mess.” The effortless awesome probably just translated into him being more of a charismatic go-between/everyone’s good chum, but the nicer and cleaner aspects of him are gone. There is one thing that definitely did change – and that’s that he spends the entire movie leeching off of Hook when he thinks he’s either not looking or too depressed to care, and this is something that years ago he never would have done.

Hook is suicidal in the film. But for the theatricality he throws into the last battle, he has every intention of either killing Peter or dying, himself. In the book, he does die, when after spending so much time angry that Peter has good form for no reason (just like Smee), he finally gets Peter to be the dick he knows he is and kick him while he’s down. Peter just…happens to kick him right into the crocodile’s mouth. But because of this he dies happy. It’s finished, he doesn’t have to worry about being there anymore because he’s dead, and everybody gets what they want. Obviously, in the what if scenario that Hook presents, he survived (which makes perfect sense – he had a vial of deadly poison on his person when the crocodile swallowed him). However, he survived, and since Peter decided to leave Neverland, he has literally nothing to do, and his one reason for staying on the Island is gone. Not only has Pan up and left him, but he had the audacity to forget about him before he finished the job, so Hook gets to stay in Neverland and stew while Peter gets to have a life. If he was going to leave, he should have killed him, plain and simple, and he’s spent at least 30 years mulling over this, and if you spent 30 years being completely useless, unchallenged, and unhappy you would want to kill yourself, too.

Smee, meanwhile, is the only person that lifts a finger to stop Hook whenever he tries to end it all. He says “Oh not again” when Hook attempts it in the film – which means he’s done this before, enough times that it’s gotten annoying, and Hook seems genuinely interested to see if Smee will actually stop him because he wants him to live or because it’s expected of him. It becomes very clear that it’s only the latter, but sadly, if this war thing with Peter doesn’t work out the way he wants it to, then Smee is still the closest thing to a friend he has – a friend who steals his expensive belongings when the chips are down and who steals food out of his very mouth when he thinks he’s too sad to complain. Seriously, watch Smee “serve up a plate” of food for him and sneak bites of everything on there. Both of these characters are getting something out of the other in a parasitic sort of way, and in any normal setting this would be viewed as an unhealthy relationship. Here, it just shows how crazy Neverland has made them both.

IN CONCLUSION: Other reviews will tell you that Hook is a flawed, if enjoyable movie, and they’re right. J.V. Hart is also one of very few people that adapted from the original source that seemed to genuinely know what he was talking about. Clearly, some things were changed to make the ratings more appropriate (like the slapstick final battle, when in the book the kids were completely fine with killing pirates and vice versa). Some things were even changed to hearken more closely to the Disney version, like Tinkerbell still being alive (she is dead and Peter has completely forgotten her and replaced her by the end of the book). But looking at the original material makes this movie a much more interesting experience – partly because Hart had to hide some of the darker things. Some of them are even placed in plain sight but not really noticed for what they are. To experience the movie fully, you need to have read the book. It’s practically subtly trying to get you to do that if you haven’t already.

So give the book a read – you can find it in full text pretty much everywhere online because the novel is public domain (the play, however, is not). Then watch the movie again. See what you notice, and have fun.

3 Plot Holes in Famous Movies that the DVD Fairy Needs Hollywood to Answer

Preferably with something other than "We were lazy". I'm willing to wait. The following three films have nothing in common, save that there are small parts in them that follow threads of logic so astoundingly stupid that it impresses me that the stories were permitted to carry on afterward. They were things I never noticed as a kid, but now as an adult with way too much free time on her hands, these are the three things that will stop me in the middle of a movie, causing me to miss several minutes of dialogue because I'm still asking about what was really going on.

Plenty of other films and TV shows were runners up for this list -- but honestly did not produce enough material to take up a third or even a fourth of an article.

...Honorable mention goes especially to the 80s sitcom, Full House, because the DVD Fairy wants to know why the Hell there was never an earthquake in that show, despite taking place in San Francisco.

And why the Hell isn't Bob Saget funny?

So without further ado, here are three plot holes in famous movies that you may or may not have given second thought to.


NUMBER THREE - STAR WARS (ANY OF THEM) AND ITS STUPID SPACE BLOCKADES

In every Star Wars movie ever, there is a scene where our group of intrepid heroes -- whoever they happen to be at the time -- must leave a planet via spaceship. Inevitably, they must sneak past a blockade of Imperial Star Destroyers, the Trade Federation, the Death Star, or the Westboro Baptist Church.

What's pictured WILL follow you into an asteroid field, Han Solo

They're these huge blockades, tens if not hundreds of these enormous ships that are large enough to be their own ecosystems. All lined up and ready to take out any rebels or fugitives or bad child actors that try to pass them.

So What's the Problem? These blockades do not surround the entire planet. They never do. They don't even make a full ring around the planet, much less cover the whole sky. So why -- WHY, I ask you -- do the heroes never just...oh, I don't know: Fly to the other side of the planet? Or to the North or South pole? And just leave from there -- y'know, where there are obviously no enemy ships parked?

Is it more fuel efficient? Your ship can take you from one end of the galaxy and back without needing a refuel -- literally millions, if not billions of miles of fuel, but you can't be bothered to spare another few ten to a hundred thousand miles. This is a meager enemy force, taking up perhaps one percent of the entire planet's sky, and apparently to get anywhere else in space you just have to pass through them. Clearly this makes so much sense that it just seems stupid.

Outer space. There's a lot of it.

This is the sci-fi movie equivalent of refusing to take a back road when a ten car pileup has caused a traffic jam on the main highway. On a day when conditions were perfect, it'd take you five minutes longer to take this other route, that's five minutes you don't feel like sparing, so YOU'RE GOING TO WADE IN, DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES. It's just a million times more stupid because instead of having one back road that will get you where you're going, there are literally thousands of other routes.

To be fair, this isn't the fault of just Star Wars. There are few sci fi films that do not make this mistake. But you've been called on it now, Hollywood, so try something else.


NUMBER TWO - SLEEPING BEAUTY AND THE CHILD THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE SURVIVED

Disney's 1959 animated film is one of my favorite Disneys of all time. Several of its plot points were holdovers from the original Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs -- mainly plot points involving Prince Phillip, because men were too difficult to draw without rotoscoping back in the 30s. Animation was too new, and animators were too undertrained. It's also one of the only animated feature films by Disney that contains absolutely no original music. The score and the musical numbers were adapted from Tchaikovsky's ballet of the same name. It was the first animated movie to be shot in Technirama widescreen, and a million other random factoids taken straight from its Wikipedia page. It also features one of the company's most enduring and menacing villains ever brought to screen (and she didn't even need her own song).

Suck it, Scar.

It's also one of the few Disney Princess movies where the Princess actually spends less time on the screen than the side characters do.

A large part of the plot surrounds three good fairies (Flora, Fauna, and Merriweather) and their promise to raise the Princess Aurora to adulthood away from her parents. This comes after the villain of the film, Maleficent, prophesies that she will prick her finger and die on her sixteenth birthday, and steps are taken to prevent this from coming to pass. They believe that if they keep her hidden and raise her as a peasant, away from the prying eyes of the evil fairy, that she will not be able to anticipate Aurora's return to her parents and will not be able to carry out her plan. The way they intend to keep her hidden is to disguise themselves as humans, remove their wings, and hide their wands away, to live as mortals. They swear an oath to not use magic until after the sixteen years have passed. If Maleficent cannot find them, then she cannot find the baby she's looking for.

So it's a good plan, right? Anyway, they make her a dress and a cake on her sixteenth birthday (after caving and using magic on the last day), and return her to the castle in secret, only for Aurora to wind up falling under Maleficent's spell right before sunset anyway.

So What's the Problem? Now, I'm not going to do the obvious question that everyone asks, which is "Why didn't they just take Aurora back to her parents AFTER she turned sixteen?" That's too easy.

No, the glaring hole in the plot that I see, every time I watch this movie, is that somehow, these three fairies have survived at all for sixteen years, starting with a newborn baby. They've made their own clothes. They've fed themselves and the child. They've kept the place relatively clean. And yet, on the day they are meant to take the Princess back to her family, they show they do not know how to cook, sew, or clean the house. Eventually they mess up their projects so badly that they have to just cave, go dig out their wands, and magic everything to how they want it to be.

How the Hell are these crazy old bats still alive? And how did they raise a child to adulthood?

Pictured: The most useless old biddies in the universe.

The easy answer would be that they've been cheating from the beginning, but there is too much evidence given in the film, itself, to suggest the exact opposite. The minute they get their wands out, Maleficent finds them. If they had used them at any other time, we would have been spared the whole scene before this showing the villain ranting about how incredible it is that they've managed to hide for sixteen years. (Leave alone how they managed to get thread and make clothing AT ALL considering all the spinning wheels in the Kingdom were destroyed.) But you go right on, little movie. Go. Dazzle the hearts of children that know nothing of textiles and how they're made.


NUMBER ONE - WILLY WONKA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY (AND THE UNDISCOVERED CHOCOLATE ROOM TRAP)

This is the movie that taught children a valuable lesson -- namely that some adults are much smarter than other adults, and if you're a rotten little brat, then those same intelligent adults are going to punish you for everything your parents ever let you get away with. They might also give you candy. If you're lucky. (Or unlucky.)

Whichever one of you kids behaves the most gets the antidote! C:

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory is considered by and large to be a cult classic, a standard held that filmmakers like Tim Burton covet most greedily. It didn't do well in theatres but it's hard to find a single person in the TV-watching world that hasn't seen it. As often as it's noted for its music, it's wonderful scenery (from the bleak and brown-spattered streets of Somewhereburg, Germany to the colorful, playful interiors of Willy Wonka's factory), and the sheer likeability of the title character and the film's hero, Charlie Bucket, this movie is also often remembered for sporting some of the creepiest moments in cinema history. In spite of special effects that are laughable by today's standards, the moments of wonder and terror in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory are impossible to replicate.

The thing with Willy Wonka in this movie is that he's subtly dangerous. Outside he is perfectly amiable. He is polite, charismatic, and brimming with intelligence. When he takes offense he playfully brushes it off with a retort often too sophisticated for his opponants to really detect. It's obvious he's a man of wonders, and in his search for an heir, it's clear why he won't choose another adult. It's not about smarts -- it's about cleverness, and it seems to be a trait he quite accurately thinks other adults simply grow out of. And so he seeks a successor among the child golden ticket holders -- testing them with temptations in each part of his factory, laying out traps to play on their much-televised weaknesses -- all save for Charlie Bucket, who has not had the time for the paparazzi to set stars in his eyes and get him too jaded to win the day at the end. Rather than have the dialogue cheaply point out that each trap was an obvious setup ("Did that seem rehearsed at all?" asks a child after the first contestant has been sung to his doom by the Oompa Loompas. "No, they were improvising!" beams Johnny Depp as Michael Jackson Wonka), the only indication that you get within the original movie that Wonka intended to lose the dead weight is that each time they move to a new section of the factory floor, there is only enough room for the people that are left. The boat that takes the contestants from the Chocolate Room to what Rifftrax dubbed a "wide awake nightmare" does not have enough seats for Augustus Gloop and his mother, so it's probably a good thing he fell in the river, right? It's a shame they lost Violet and Veruca when they board the Wonka Mobile, but all the same, there was only space enough for five people anyway. It chills you the first time you realize it.

Not Pictured: Subtlety.

So What's the Problem? We never got to see one of the traps.

Willy Wonka has a pretty standard reaction to children misbehaving in his factory. He told them at the door not to touch anything unless he said otherwise. He made them sign a contract promising they had heard him say this and would obey him. An entire scene was devoted to this. And yet, every time a child backtalks him, steals something right out of his hand, or ignores his last warning, his voice drops to a monotone, nonchalant drawl. While chaos breaks out all around him, you can barely hear him uttering "wait stop come back here". And when the inevitable finally happens, he is patiently waiting for the horror to end, allowing the rest of his guests to scream, sob, and salivate while he maintains a bored, exasperated composure. He is not wasting any more energy than he has to on these disobedient little twerps. They signed a pain waiver. Everything that happens after they break the rules, he is completely covered for. He is the picture of calm, the adult that is not mad, just disappointed --

All save in one instance: When Augustus Gloop decided to forego chowing down on the meadow of sweets that was the Chocolate Room and, ignoring Wonka's rather earnest demands that he keep his fat fingers out of his chocolate river, fell ass over teakettle into the vat. And thus America and audiences round the world were introduced to their very first Gene Wilder Freakout:

GIVE ME MY BLUE BLANKET MY GRANDFATHER'S RESEARCH WAS DOODOO STELLAAAAAAAAAA

This is not the face of a man with a plan. Ignore the original novel and just look at the performance. This was clearly not the trap Willy Wonka had set. When Charlie Bucket stole Fizzy Lifting Drink, Wonka reamed him over the costs incurred just because he touched the walls, which now had to be cleaned. Now imagine the cost of emptying a supply of melted chocolate that flows through the entire factory because it's been contaminated with fat deaf German kid (and you KNOW that kid was scared enough to void his bowels at some point), then the cost to clean all the channels, then the cost to refill the whole system with melted chocolate again. Think about the sheer amount of resources. This kid, in refusing to just eat the giant gummy bears like everyone else, has just jacked up the cost of your most affordable chocolate (made entirely of sawdust) to thirty dollars an ounce.

Willy Wonka can not have intended for that to happen.

So this leaves the question: What other death trap is there in the Chocolate Room, undiscovered? What confectionary masterpiece in that candy paradise did Wonka think was so much more tantalizing to a diabetic chocoholic than a river made of chocolate? And what is going to happen when he transfers some poor Oompa Loompa from another division of the factory into the Chocolate Room and the poor thing just haplessly comes upon it someday? Where in the room is it?

Oh. There it is!