It is with rare exception that a book which is very dear to me is adapted to film, and even more exceptional when that film is good. There are other improbabilities to be considered too. First, The Mouse and his Child, written by Russell Hoban (1967) was never intended as a children's book, it simply got marketed as such. Secondly, as you might imagine, it is in all likelihood the strangest book (for adult or children) you may ever stumble upon (though Hoban would out-weird it later), something like Vonnegut collaborating with Philip K. Dick and Tove Jansson (who!?), directed by David Lynch. Thirdly, someone (Sanrio--of Hello Kitty fame) thought this would make a good children's flick. And for my fourth improbable happening--most improbable of all--they actually made good with it! The film is not Disneyfied, nor are there nauseating musical numbers. The main characters are even killed in the process of the story!
It must be that books which could easily be adapted to film do not intimidate movie-makers enough to keep them in line. Or perhaps, they insufficiently inspired them. But for whatever reason, either in awe or fear (or bewilderment?), Mouse and his Child actually sticks quite close to the book (with a few omissions). So at this point your probably asking: Why should I see this? Why are you writing this review? What? Your reviewing a movie you like? Aren't you angry all the time???
Well, the reason you should see Mouse and his Child if you aren't enamored with the book like me, or simply want to see a GOOD animated kids(?) flick that is a little off the beaten path, is because the film is in truth quite strange, a sort of modern day enigma that probably shouldn't exist anymore, and barely does (I dug this one up on e-bay, and the video is probably something like 16 years old, so it won't be easy to find). To add incentive, the owner of this page hailed it as 'strangest film of the month!'
So there you have it, both a film I really like, and an oddity that will leave your jaw hanging. It is precisely what I look for in cinema, and for this reason you will find this review differing from others here because I am hardly talking about a throw-away film. But this is also a trademark of Hoban: his books are loaded with surreal humor juxtaposed with deeply significant commentary. Because of this, I think almost everyone will find something enjoyable here unless they are looking for a normal film, which Mouse most certainly is not.
The first break from our own universe starts with the music, the opening track sounding as though it were sung by a little girl, and feeling altogether unsure of itself in a half folk-ballad half jazz stumble vein. The titles run and we are put face to face with our heroes: Two tin mice, one known as 'Mouse', and one as 'Child'. They are wind-up toys linked at the hands, and originally walk around in a circle before being broken. A tramp (played by John Carradine) observes them, then mimics their dance with his small dog.
Afterwards, the store closes and the toys come to life. You are no doubt thinking that this film will be god-awful. Who wants to watch a talking toy movie? Only little kids would watch that, and probably only really stupid ones. Fortunately, Mouse takes on a nearly ominous tone from the beginning.
The toy mouse and child learn quickly they are toys, and make friends with an elephant and seal who they want to start a family with (just take my word for it.) Then the clock informs them they can only do what they are wound to do, and a jack in the box tells them about how they will suffer in whatever home they are taken to. The mouse and child fall off the table and break on the floor. End of scene one.
Next we get several scenes of the toys being taken out to the dump, including a 'garbage-cam' shot, at which point the child asks, "Is this the world?" "I don't know." Responds his father. In time they reach the dump, where they encounter John Carradine again who repairs them, though now they walk only in a straight line. He sets them off on their journey saying only: "Be tramps."
With a beginning like this, you know you are in for a treat! Toys go off to find their destiny in the junk yard. What could be better fun for children? Someone reviewing the book once speculated that its' lack of popularity in America might be do to some sort of garbage-phobia. Perhaps, but it is still an odd setting, and not a terribly friendly one.
From the start, the toys fall into the clutches of the evil Manny Rat, a sort of rat boss who enslaves wind-up toys for slave labor. At the hint of dissension, toys are torn up and used for scrap, and in one nightmarish scene, after a toy is ripped apart, the other toys are forced to sing in unison 'we love you Manny.' I should add that Manny is so bad-ass he has his own Shaft-like theme music, and is perfectly voiced by Peter Ustinov.
But rats are not the only threat which stands in the way of our heroic toys (heroic in what sense I am not sure, since they cannot actually do anything short of talk). Mouse/Child escape from the rats, not by cunning, but because the rat escorting them (Ralphie) is eaten by a badger. There are also teams of killer shrews, and ferrets to eat the shrews, and owls to eat the ferrets. These and other dangers await the toys, but they are apparently pre-destined to survive.
Met by a fortune telling frog, they are informed of their future, one that spans the course of a year. All of this might be cheesy in some other flick, but already the film has become so surreal one can comfortably take it at face value.
Manny Rat confronts them again, this time in his own wind-up pimp mobile, but then loses them, and at last the film takes a turn toward the really really gone side of cinema (i.e. the part of Mouse and his Child I enjoy the most). Rescued by a parrot, the toys join the Caws art experimental theater group, where they perform in a play called 'The Last Visible Dog'.
This is only the first of several stopping points, each one successively more bizarre. Upset with their inability to do anything themselves, the toys begin on a quest to become 'self-winding', and here we also have the first of several parallels to Conan the Barbarian (don't ask me why.) In the film, self winding is a somewhat concrete thing, while in the book it is more mysterious and unobtainable. Still, one cannot help but expect to hear small furry animals discussing the riddle of steel with the voice of James Earl Jones.
The first encounter after their public performance is with the Muskrat, a deep thinker who spends his time doing pure research. The toys ask to be self-winding, but instead are tied to the end of an ax where they are forced to labor through all of winter and spring attempting to cut down a tree. All of this is accompanied by one of the movies only songs, a riotous chant of the muskrats theories while the mice toil and rust, sung by the all-male soviet choir. For those who can't catch the Conan parallel here, go back and watch your sweaty Schwarzploitation films.
In time, by events not worth explaining here, the toys are discarded into the pond, where the mouse observes they are to share a watery grave with the last visible dog (the reference is to the scattered dogfood tins which bare the logo of a dog holding a can of the same dogfood, and hence repeating infinitely.) At this time, Serpentina (in the book a snapping turtle, though he looks more like a sea turtle here) appears, and requests them to seek infinity among the dogs! 'Each must move by the propulsion of his own thoughts alone!' The turtle refutes their attempts to go anywhere, as one place is the same as another, and the only place is time.
Left to rot in the bottom of the pond, the toys hope that by traveling 'through the dogs, beyond the dots, and to the truth alone' (to quote the author), they will be helped by Serpentina, though no promises have been made, and ultimately the toys do so because they have nothing better to do. Again, I cannot help think of Conan:
"What do you see in the pool?" A priestess asks our muscle-laden hero.
"Infinity."
And elsewhere we have wonderful quotes from James Earl Jones: "Who here has achieved emptiness?"
Mouse and his Child goes farther then Conan though. Left to contemplate infinity (or in the book, the other side of infinity!) we actually get to travel through the dogs themselves. One after the next in a sequence that reminds me of nothing but the stargate footage in 2001. Unfortunately the film does not offer the books rather weighty message, "There is nothing on the other side of infinity but us." said after the can peels, and the toys can see themselves. In the film, the can peels also, but it very quickly turns into a happy resolve, and the mouse and child are pulled ashore by a kingfisher and the tin seal, their old friend from the toy shop.
But the last and best Conan parallel is left to come, as well as an outright disturbing scene (especially for children.) Manny Rat appears again, and by now he is nearly insane, having spent months chasing the toys which have dethroned him as king of the dump. The film does not go that far into it, but a wonderful monologue by the rat spells it out as briefly as it can (and this scene is particularly delicious and non-disneyish). Manny cries his outrage to the sky, wondering how fate can be so tortuous, as it is not a living thing which has so discredited him, but a bit of tin. He even earns a second Manny Rat theme here to go along with his previous Shaft theme. It's just too much, and when he smashes the Mouse and his Child into tiny pieces, he is so far gone that he flees in unexplained panic.
And this scene too must be mentioned. When Manny arrives he beats up Frog who has shown up to fulfill the prophesy he gave at the beginning of the film. Then he subsequently crushes Mouse and Child with a rock. Just as their innards are turned inside out though, they see that Manny has brought along the elephant, again from the beginning of the film. She has only one eye now, but Child calls affectionately out to her before the life is torn out of him.
Manny runs away with a look of terror on his face after thrusting his paw into the toys gears and shifting them about. The other animals regroup and collect the scattered bits of Mouse and Child, taking them to the muskrat where hopefully he can resurrect them (my final Conan similarity--think 'Tree of Woe' here.)
The muskrat, after much pleading, finally agrees to repair our heroes, though the others seem doubtful as to whether he can actually do the job. After a while he's just shoving gears into the shattered bodies of the toys, accompanied by his all-male soviet choir on soundtrack. At last he not only fixes them, but makes them self-winding. If it wasn't so disturbing it would be too happy, but it actually seems to place things on an even keel after a thirty minute block of weirdness.
The rest of the film is a rushed conclusion. The toys and befriended animals decide to free the elephant and take back the doll house (again from the toy shop), which the rats have claimed as their own party-pad. There is a lengthy scene of rats getting drunk and dressing up an apple core like a woman(!?) As to how the rats are evicted, I will leave that for you to discover, though there is little in it that really deserves commentary here. As I have implied, the wrap up is a little too quick.
Having beaten evil, the mouse and elephant are married in one of the trippiest sea-sick approaches to animation I have ever seen (hold on to your couch coz you might fall off!) Then, while the marriage is in progress, John Carradine arrives again, sticks his head in the doll house, and says, "Be happy." Then he walks away into the sunset, and the end credits role.
If you are watching this film unprepared, your probably expressing disbelieve in the most vulgar of terms. What happened? Why did it happen? What the fuck? It's the quickest introduction to Hoban I can think of. The author is a sort of mad genius. His characters are plagued by the head of Orpheus (or sometimes just the brain), Jog with Death (which apparently looks something like a gorilla), hunted by lions in modern day London, and regularly share long conversations with blank pieces of paper. But Hoban isn't weird just to be weird, his stories are laden with symbolism and insight that just doesn't quite translate to film, so if you are somewhat disoriented, don't feel left out. There just isn't enough space in the movie to bring out the nuances of the book, but on the other hand, this may be one of the best attempts I've seen.
Although there are plot elements I would have been happy to see included (for one, in the book, self-winding does not entirely work, to which the frog notes: "I don't suppose anyone is completely self-winding. That is what friends are for.") Mouse and his Child makes incredible use of it's hour and thirty minutes, and presents an uncompromised approach to animated films for kids. Film never captures every thought in a book, but for one of the most innovative authors of the last forty years to find such a close and daring adaptation to the screen is really remarkable and a unique treat. I think I've already given a dozen reasons why you need to see this film, and might list more if it wasn't cruelly out of print.
Good luck video hunting!
Chris
Thanks for the review Chris! If you have any comments, drop me a line at gleep9@hotmail.com . Now wind yourself up and head on back to either the movie or main page.
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