Disney, the perennial peddler of nostalgia is back with another attempt to mine your childhood memory. In Christopher Robin, the studio shows once more how adept it is in the way it adapts and invokes the past that not only includes the sunshine days of your early life, but also the vault of the studio’s beloved films.
This time, the cuddle-worthy bunch of Winnie the Pooh and his friends are the targets. Since the behemoth of a studio has dazzling animators at their disposal, the characters of AA Milne and EH Shepard come to life with startlingly warm presence. The CGI rendered versions in the Hundred Acre Wood are stuffed toy versions who seem to have been at the receiving end of much hugging and loving.
The muted colours bear the stump of their English roots, and their unmistakable genteelness is another cue by the studio why you should buy the toys the next time you visit a store.
The story rides on one of the profound clichés of our times – how the adults must be in touch with their inner child. With a beginning that wants your wistful longing about the simple and illustrative genius of the books, we are ushered into a farewell party in which Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and the rest of the gang are saying goodbye to their young friend Christopher Robin (Orton O'Brien).
In quick succession, we are led through the montage of Christopher losing his parent, growing up, falling in love, fighting in World War, and finally coming back to London to wife and a daughter. Ewan McGregor is the adult Christopher who is deeply embedded in a taxing job at a high-end luggage manufacturing company. The sombre tone established from the very first frame tells us how he doesn’t have time for his wife Evelyn (Hayley Atwell) and daughter Madeline (Bronte Carmichael).
Winnie the Pooh wakes up on his bed, as he must have been all these years, and through the portal of the Hundred Acre Wood, he reunites with his friend Christopher. Incidentally, this is also the day Christopher is most mirthless, forced to work on the weekend while his wife and daughter spend the weekend in their country house in rural Sussex. Turns out, Pooh can’t find his gang, and Christopher must make a trip back home to solve the crisis.
It’s not difficult to imagine how the rest of it pans out – Pooh reunites with his friends, Christopher mends his ways with his family and friends, albeit after a few chases and intense clashes with Heffalumps and Woozles.
Marc Forster, the director of Finding Neverland collaborates with three fine writing talents to hone out the script of Christopher Robin. Indie writer-director Alex Ross Perry, Tom McCarthy (director and co-writer of Spotlight), and Allison Schroeder (writer of Hidden Figures) build the world of this film with a brush of melancholy while being faithful to Milne’s allure.
McGregor, wonderfully in sync with his inner child, brings perfect poise and enthusiasm to steer the film’s cloying misdirection into coherence. Along with him, the voice cast starts dismantling your scepticism. Jim Cummings projects Poo’s gentle wit with such effortlessly affable turns of his voice that your heart warms up. It’s a tricky walk that balances nonsense and philosophy, and all you want is to pluck that Pooh out of the screen, hug him tight and offer him a jar of honey. Of course, Cummings also does the bouncy voice of Tigger with an opposite but affecting enthusiasm. The rest of the gang work wonderfully too, Sophie Okonedo as Kanga, Peter Capaldi as Rabbit, Nick Mohammed as Piglet, and Toby Jones as Owl. But it is Brad Garrett voicing Eeyore who steals the scenes by offering grumpy quips of gloom and doom.
For a Disney summer offering, Christopher Robin is strangely restrained, and this emotive constraint slowly grows on you. It never goes for the thundering and threatening, instead aims for the homely vibe. But unlike Paddington’s (another series led by a cuddly bear) casual profundity, Pooh’s new adventure fails to maintain the unalloyed charm till the end, and in the final reel, it spills over to mawkish and schmaltzy.
Yes, Pooh in our era of self-help has turned into a device for finding therapy. Is it really his fault?
(The writer is a journalist, a screenwriter, and a content developer who believes in the insanity of words, in print or otherwise. He tweets @RanjibMazumder).
(At The Quint, we are answerable only to our audience. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member. Because the truth is worth it.)