Movie Review--Everyone's Hero

I'm posting this movie review from CT at the Movies for three reasons:

1. Mark took Emily and Samantha to it and said it was good.

2. The end of the review reminded me of the story Kev read Sunday.

3. I couldn't think of anything else to blog about.

Everyone's Hero
Rated G

Can you, for the sake of a warm-hearted animated kids' movie, accept a talking baseball? Before you answer you should know that, besides the audience, only the protagonist (ten-year-old Yankee Irving) can hear the ball (or see the eyes and mouth that suddenly appear on his … er, face). You should also know that the ball's name is "Screwie," and that he's voiced with vaudevillian gusto by Rob Reiner. I should probably also mention that the ball's eyes roll as much as he does, and he frequently bickers with Darlin', a talking baseball bat (naturally).
Superfan Yankee Irving (Jake T. Austin) and his new pals Darlin' (Whoopi Goldberg) and Screwie (Rob Reiner)

Sound a little corny? It is. But, judging from the reactions of the children in the theater, Screwie is a homerun with the under-ten set. If there are some kids in your life, Everyone's Hero may make tolerating a little cornball (sorry) humor worth your while.

The film is set in Depression-era New York. Times are tough, but Babe Ruth and the Yankees give the locals something to cheer about as they head into the 1932 World Series against the Chicago Cubs. No one loves the home team more than Yankee Irving (voiced by Jake T. Austin, from TV's Go, Diego! Go!). Yankee's dad Stanley (Mandy Pantinkin) is a custodian at Yankee Stadium; he shares his son's passion for the sport and even lets the boy have a look at the Babe's famed bat, Darlin'. Unfortunately, when the bat is stolen shortly thereafter, Yankee is blamed and his dad is fired.

Yankee sets off on a quest to find the bat and take it (by rail and bus) from New York to Chicago in time for the final game of the World Series. For much of his long journey his only company is Screwie (the aforementioned talking baseball), whom he's recently discovered in the neighborhood sandlot. Eventually they're joined by the Bambino's diva-esque bat, Darlin' (voiced with a southern accent as thick as molasses by Whoopi Goldberg). Along the way the unlikely trio gets some help from Marti Brewster (Raven-Symone), the spunky daughter of Negro League star player Lonnie Brewster (Forest Whitaker). The Brewsters both help Irving get closer to Chicago and, more importantly, improve his batter's stance.

Yankee's nemesis is Lefty Maginnis (voiced by the always wonderful William H. Macy), a Cubs pitcher ordered by the club's underhanded owner (an uncredited but unmistakably manic Robin Williams) to steal Darlin' in a successful effort to squelch the Bambino's home run streak. Lefty is as hapless as he is duplicitous, and his numerous collisions with various trains and related objects constitute the sort of comic violence I was never allowed to watch as a kid. (This is why I know nothing about the Road Runner or Bugs Bunny. But I digress.) Judging by the hysterical laughter at the screening I attended, such slapstick animation is very, very funny. Especially if you're eight years old.

Cartoon contusions aside, Everyone's Hero is remarkably wholesome. Its original director and champion was Christopher Reeve, who loved the story for its emphasis on perseverance and family. After Reeve's death in 2004, his wife Dana stepped in as an executive producer, and also voiced the character of Yankee's mother. Even after Dana's death in 2005, the production team and cast remained committed to the project, and reportedly worked hard to retain the Reeves' original vision for the film. "No matter where life takes you, always keep swinging" is the movie's tagline (taken from dialogue between Yankee and his dad)—and a good summary of the commitment that brought the movie to fruition.

A friend took one look at the poster for Everyone's Hero and called the computer-generated graphics "cute," and that's a pretty fair summary of the film's style. Though the animation is as slick and smooth as any modern CGI film, the look of it is vaguely reminiscent of old Christmas specials. (Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing depends on how much you liked the way the humans looked in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer or Frosty.)

I've been trying to figure out why I had so much trouble with that talking bat and ball. If toys can talk in Toy Story, and cups and saucers can sing and dance in Beauty and the Beast, why do Screwie and Darlin' seem so cheesy? Maybe it's because balls and bats are so resolutely un-anthropomorphic. Or perhaps it's because the sudden animation of inanimate objects—and why only Yankee can perceive it—is never explained. Most likely it's because Everyone's Hero goes about its business without the slightest hint of the kind of irony that helps grown-ups swallow the fantastical in a Shrek or a Toy Story. Everyone's Hero has a truly childlike innocence and purity, and, though I find it oddly jarring, upon reflection it does some rather appropriate for a children's movie.

The period piece aspect of Everyone's Hero is a refreshing departure from what's been proffered in animation of late. The film is most successful when it succeeds in capturing 1930s America—in scenes, for example, when Yankee encounters some benevolent hobos or when he meets the Babe in a swank Chicago hotel. Unfortunately, some sloppy writing in other scenes undermines the film's full potential (Darlin' asks for a mochaccino, various characters use some decidedly un-depression-era slang). And the somewhat stock soundtrack would have been way cooler if it had committed itself more completely to the period.

Five days after screening Everyone's Hero, I'm still cringing a little, in my grown-up, jaded way, at the cute, corny, earnestness of the film. My 8-year-old co-screener, Ben, is still grinning in his uncynical way, at the memory of Yankee, Darlin', Screwie and their great adventure. I've got to admit, even though I didn't have that much fun watching a talking baseball, I sure enjoyed watching my son watching a talking baseball. And afterward, when he thanked me for taking him to the "best movie ever," I felt like a bit of a hero myself.