I was up for the gig writing the screenplay for Where the Wild Things Are a million years ago, when the project was at Universal. I had mixed feelings about taking on the project, because the book is so slim, and so primal, so, well, "wild," that I knew no studio would spend $100 million doing it properly. Where the Wild Things Are should be weird, intense, edgy and deeply personal, the exact opposite of what i knew a studio wanted out of a four-quadrant hit.

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The whole family went recently to Legoland. Everyone had a wonderful time. Kit (6) discovered the thrill and terror of roller-coasters, a thrill and terror Sam (8) is not quite ready for, in spite of being 18 months older than Kit. Kit rode with me on The Dragon six times, and Coaster-Saurus once with her mother.

Last night, I read Roller Coaster by Marla Frazee to the kids, which they both enjoyed quite a bit, and the following conversation ensued.

KIT. I LOVE roller-coasters!

TODD. I know you do.

SAM. (a little fearful) Do I have to ever ride a roller-coaster?

TODD. No. You never have to ride a roller-coaster. There is only one power on Earth that can compel you to ride a roller-coaster, and that is: a pretty teen-age girl.

(KIT lights up at this idea. SAM, not so much.)

KIT. (excited) REALLY?

SAM. (fearful) Really? How?

TODD. (to SAM) One day, you'll be a teenage boy, and you'll be at an amusement park with a bunch of your friends, and a pretty teenage girl will say "Will you go on a roller-coaster with me?" and you will have no choice -- you will have to go.

SAM. Really?

TODD. Absolutely.

KIT. WOW! Will that happen to ME?

TODD. Well, for you it will be different. One day, you'll be a pretty teenage girl, and you'll be at an amusement park with a date, and you'll want him to feel all confident and strong, and you'll say "Will you please protect me from the big scary roller-coaster?" and inside you'll be thinking "Yeah!"
 

(This very much strikes Kit's fancy. She immediately tries it out.)

KIT. "Will you protect me from the big scary roller-coaster?" "Yeah!" (She falls down laughing.) Will that really happen to me?

TODD. Kit, I promise you, you are going to have more boyfriends than you can shake a stick at.

SAM. Then why don't you just take two sticks?

Sam (7) and I were watching the groundbreaking series Planet Earth the other day, the "Shallow Seas" episode. To give a little shape to its eye-popping array of fabulous images of animals doing things, "Shallow Seas" incorporates a little tiny "plot:" a mother humpback whale gives birth to a calf at the Equator, then hangs out with it for five months while it gets big, then swims with it to the North Pole, where the seas are rich with whatever humpback whales eat. In this arduous five-month period, the mother humpback eats nothing.

Anyway, Sam and I are watching "Shallow Seas," and they tell us about the mother humpback and her devotion to her calf, and then they tell us about coral reefs and sea-snakes and brittle stars and a whole bunch of other critters, and then they come back to the mother humpback and her calf and "check in" with them, as they're heading north on their long trek.

And Sam says: "Wait. Did they follow this humpback and her calf all the way from the Equator to the North Pole? Why would they do that? Wouldn't it make more sense to shoot one humpback and calf at the Equator, then go to the North Pole and find another humpback and calf that just kind of looks like the first one? I mean, it's not like anybody could tell the difference."

Already a producer.

(Sam, 7, has been keen on Jurassic Park ever since he saw a fleeting image from it in a video store at age 3. He has now seen all three movies several times and owns the soundtrack, the themes of which he can be heard to sing incessantly around the house. His interest in Indiana Jones is more recent -- he first saw Raiders of the Lost Ark less than a year ago -- but is no less strong. The first name in filmmaking he learned was George Lucas, but the second was Steven Spielberg, and it is Spielberg who has had the much greater impact, as we will see.)

SAM. Dad?
DAD. Yeah?
SAM. Is there going to be a Jurassic Park IV?
DAD. I don't know. They've been planning one for a long time, but I don't know if they'll ever make it.
SAM. What do you think it will be about?
DAD. Well, I actually know something about that.
SAM. Really?
DAD. Yeah. I've heard -- now mind you, this is only what I've heard -- that in Jurassic Park IV, a the government breeds raptors to carry out commando raids.
SAM. Really?
DAD. That's what I've heard.
SAM. Could they do that?
DAD. Um, sure, I guess. Velociraptors are pack hunters, they must be about as smart as dogs, you could probably train them if you started from birth.
SAM. What if -- oh! -- What if they train velociraptors to be commandos, and then send them back in time to fight the Nazis?
DAD. Well dude, that sounds like the greatest idea in the history of movies.
SAM. (really rolling now) And, how come there haven't been any water dinosaurs in the Jurassic Park movies?
DAD. I don't know, they should really --
SAM. Because, it could be like, the opening of the movie, there could be the island, right, and there's a T-Rex walking on the shore, and he's hunting somebody, right? And he's just about to strike and suddenly a Megalodon jumps out of the water and grabs the T-Rex off the beach and drags it into the water!
DAD. Wow!
SAM. A giant shark jumps out of the water, grabs the T-Rex, comes completely out of the water and then splashes back down into it!  How many times do you think people have seen that in a movie?
DAD. Most people? Probably never.
(pause)
SAM. Do you think it's too much to have the Megalodon and the Nazis in the same movie, or should we save one of them for Jurassic Park V?

I took my kids Sam (7) and Kit (5) to see The Clone Wars. I've been reading so much invective directed against this movie, I honestly didn't know what to expect. Online voices are torn: some people seem to hate it, some people seem to merely dislike it, some people feel it is a monstrous act of betrayal. My favorite, a hysterical non-review by "Moriarty" at Ain't-It-Cool-News, is so full of hurt and anger that it goes so far as to insist that the reviewer will never write about Star Wars ever again -- You hear him? Never!  Take that, George Lucas!  Moriarty shuts the Iron Door.

I went in fully braced for an atrocity, a soul-scorching, childish, grating, dead-end cinematic nightmare.

Sorry haters -- it's actually not bad. It's actually pretty good.

INT. SCREENING ROOM -- NIGHT

SAM (7) and DAD watch Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom for the fourth or fifth time together. In the movie, late in Act I, Indy and Bald Village Priest converse. BVP tells Indy that Shiva has sent him to recover the village's magic rock. Indy corrects him, saying that nobody "sent" him, his plane crashed.

Sam, alarmed, sits up.

Ceiling can taste freedom.

Booie, the littlest and, frankly, weediest of our latest mantis army, died quietly in the night a few days ago. In accordance with mantis tradition, his body was devoured by crickets.

In what's becoming an Alcott family tradition, the death of the weakest mantis is a signal that the others' days are numbered, and the survivors should be released into the wild, where they might mate and create another mantis army to menace the insects of tomorrow. The liberation ceremony for Ceiling and Snacks was held this morning on our front porch.

Dad took Sam (7) and Kit (5) to see Space Chimps. In terms of artistic achievement, Dad found the movie placed a little south of Kagemusha, but acknowledges that it is most likely not intended for an audience of cranky, middle-aged screenwriters. However, the movie did get one genuine laugh out of him, and if you were one of the handful of people in the movie theater with us, you might have witnessed this scene:

ONSCREEN:

Two chimps in a rocket ship. (all dialogue paraphrased)

CHIMP 1. Let's face it, I'm not a real astronaut.
CHIMP 2. Are you wearing an aluminum suit?
CHIMP 1. Yes, but...
CHIMP 2. Are you inside a space ship?
CHIMP 1. Well, yes...
CHIMP 2. Are you in space?
CHIMP 1. Yes, but I...
CHIMP 2. Are you David Bowie?
CHIMP 1. Nnnooo...
CHIMP 2. Then you're an astronaut!

IN THE AUDIENCE:

DAD. (laughs)
SAM. (noting Dad's laugh) What does that even mean?
DAD. (beat -- how to put?) David Bowie is a singer. He had a famous song about being an astronaut. So it's a joke about that.
SAM. (beat, then, trying it out) "Are you David Bowie?" (laugh)

(Dad did not go on to explain that the real reason for his laugh is that there is another, slightly funnier aspect to the line for him, which is that Chimp 2 is voiced by Patrick Warburton, who also voices the character Brock Samson on the TV series The Venture Bros, a show which also prominently features David Bowie as a character. One step at a time for teaching Sam showbiz in-jokes.)

While you're waiting for my exhaustive, multi-part, scene-by-scene analysis of Schindler's List, here is my daughter Kit (5)'s interpretation of the climax of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

At the top, of course, is the name of the protagonist. Directly below that is the row of "false grails" that Indy has ignored. Finally, at the bottom, we see Indy with the true grail. We know it's Indy because of his hat. Indy, as we can see, is very happy to have chosen the true grail. Perhaps drinking from the true grail will get him to re-grow his lower body.

Now that Hillary Clinton has reminded us that there's still time to assassinate Barack Obama before the convention, I feel it is incumbent upon me to present a corrective to ugliness and despair, Little Birdy, the newest volume by my daughter Kit (5). Take note, Caldecott committee.

Speed Racer update: Sam (7) and Kit (5) made a beeline for their Speed Racer toys this morning and argued over who would get to play with the "big" Mach 5 (we own two), so I know this movie is no flash-in-the-pan. (I doubt they could even identify their Spiderwick Chronicles toys at this point).

In my never-ending quest to provide Hollywood with reliable, first-hand, home-grown responses from real moviegoers, I quizzed both Sam and Kit on their response to the movie.

Faced with headlines like this, the world is ready, I believe, for a story about a unicorn, and a little girl, and a hat, and a circus.

Dad is not the only storyteller in the Alcott family. This is by Kit (5). As difficult as it is for me to wrap my mind around the idea that my daughter, when, given the chance, thinks up stories about unicorns, little girls, and hats, and circuses, I cannot argue with the sweep and punch of the results.



Hollywood studio executives will no doubt note Kit's grasp of the surprise twist ending. Not content with one, she here supplies us with two.  Or three.  Take that, M. Night Shyamalan!

UPDATE: Fox has just called regarding the rights to The Wonder Unicorn.  They're thinking of Queen Latifah as a streetwise, sassy unicorn and Evan Rachel Wood as the little girl.

 

My son Sam (6) is a natural-born movie buff, and that is a good thing. His younger sister, Kit (5), not so much. Sam wants to know how movies are made, how effects (both narrative and special) are achieved, how "they get it to look that way." Kit is attracted to characters.

I've tried to carefully manage my kids' exposure to movies, not so much to keep them ignorant of subversive material but to present a canon: Star Wars movies are good, Barbie movies are not. Justice League is good, The Wiggles is not. Pixar is exceptionally good, other studios require a more project-by-project assessment. The purposed end result of this cultural editing is that, when they become old enough to choose their own entertainment, they will be able to recognize quality over crap. I also want them to have an understanding of movie history and be able to appreciate older movies (like, you know, Raiders of the Lost Ark).

My apologies to my readers who wait with bated breath for my analysis of The Color Purple.  My son Sam (6) had a day off from school, and my daughter Kit (5) has a school that consists primarily of her being out of the house for four hours, so my wife and I decided to take them to Disneyland.

Sam (6) has discovered money, and the power of money, and the glory of money. Money, he has realized, can buy Star Wars toys, and a great deal of money can buy big Star Wars toys.

So Sam is willing to do just about anything at this point to get some money.

My wife, seizing upon this new capitalistic streak, has put him to work around the house, performing more-or-less useful tasks that pose no immediate threat to his health or to local property values.

Yesterday she puts him to work washing our patio doors (which, to be fair, need washing). For the performance of this task she offers him two dollars. The deal is accepted and he goes to work with a pail and sponge.

Enter Kit, kid sister (5). Kit sees Sam washing the windows and wonders how she ever felt fulfillment playing with Polly Pocket. She now wants to wash windows too -- not for the money, but to be included, and for the sheer giddy joy of it.

In another time, in another story, Tom Sawyer once put the whole neighborhood to work whitewashing a fence because he was lazy and canny, and he knew it would make a good plot-point in a deathless novel. But in the year 2007, kids and household tasks have changed. Kit approached Sam and asked if she could help and Sam became hysterical. Cries of rage and dishonor echoed around the block. Sam was furious, not because Kit might be cutting in on his window-washing fun, but because he was worried that if Kit was willing to wash windows for nothing, the job could be done without Sam and Sam would be out his two dollars.

Just another example of skilled workers struggling to keep their jobs against a tide of newcomers willing to do the job for less -- California economics in a nutshell. And the WGA strike too, I suppose.

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SAM (6): I was wearing my Fancy-Schmancy Ultra Limited Edition Secret Stash In-house Promo Venture Bros shirt today, which attracted Sam's interest.

SAM: Who's that?
DAD: This? This is -- [dramatic voice] -- The Monarch!

(no response)

DAD: He's a bad guy.
SAM: I can see that!

Meanwhile, KIT (4), has taken it upon herself to put together a new lineup of The Beatles:



To those who believe that Ringo is irreplaceable, here is your answer: Ringo is replaceable, if he is replaced with BATMAN FROM THE FUTURE and A SHARK ON A POSTAL DELIVERY TRUCK.

(The TV room, afternoon. Kit (4) is watching The Fairly Oddparents. A commercial is playing.)

KIT: Stupid remote! Stupid! Dad! Da--ad!

(Dad enters.)

DAD: What's up?
KIT: I can't get the remote to work!
DAD: Let me see it.

(He takes the remote. It works fine.)

DAD: It works fine.
KIT: I mean it won't work on this TV show! I can't get it to start over, or skip the commercials, or pause when I need the bathroom!
DAD: Oh, well that's because this is live TV. Here, see, when you press the "pause" button, the little box comes on in the corner that says "LIVE TV?" That's what that means, it means that this is being broadcast right now, it's not a recording, you can't pause it or make it go back.
KIT: Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I HATE LIVE TV!

DAD. Kit, I love your new drawing!
KIT (4). Thank you!
DAD.  What does the "TM" mean?
KIT.  That means nobody can steal it!

KIT (4): Waaaaaahh!  Mommy ruined my drawing!!  Waaaaaaahhhh!
SAM (5) (genuine concern): What happened, Kit?
KIT: Waaaaaaah!  I asked Mommy to draw a sweater on my girl and she drew long sleeves!  Waaaaaahhh!  She ruined my drawing!  She ruined my WHOLE DAY!  Waaaaahhhh!
SAM: It's okay Kit, we can scan it and fix it in Photoshop!

"My children find the windows in our apartment far more fascinating than the T.V." -- urbaniak

This will change, and sooner than you think.  When the change comes, you will want to move fast.

It is, of course, extremely important that your infants be able to identify and watch television programming at the earliest possible age.  Hopefully you exposed them to TCM while they were still in the womb, so that they will already have dim racial memories of George Saunders and Claudette Colbert.

When they are what Chuck Montgomery refers to as the "canned ham" stage of life, just about anything will do.  My son Sam was perfectly content to watch Kurosawa when he was three or four months old, and the two of us once whiled away an afternoon watching Rififi, which held the child spellbound through the 25-minute wordless heist sequence.

However, soon, say four months from now, your matched set of tykes will demand entertainment, and they won't have the patience for Twentieth Century or the world-weariness to appreciate Citizen Kane (my five-year-old son upon reaching the end of Jurassic Park: "Ah well, another happy ending").

(Honestly, the kid is a born comedian.  Last night, as he was going to sleep, one of our cats came in and did something crazy.  Sam, on the edge of sleep, sighed and said "Cats these days...")

Anyway, before Clockwork Orange, before Venture Bros., before Kim Possible, before Scooby-Doo, before even Teletubbies, there is Baby Einstein.

I cannot recommend this series highly enough.  They are utterly homemade, the early ones anyway, feature non-nauseating Honest-to-God classical music and, most importantly, do not feature a narrative.

I don't actually know how when kids start to "get" narrative, but a good indicator is that a two-year-old can watch War of the Worlds and not be particularly frightened, but a three-year-old will cower under the sofa at an episode of Winx Club.  It has to do with identification with the protagonist.  If the protagonist is frightened, about anything, the child with the dawning narrative skills will be frightened as well.  Before that point, it's all just input, honestly you could let them watch Reservoir Dogs (although that's probably too talky).

Anyway, Baby Einstein.  I recommend starting with Baby Mozart and Baby Bach.  Here's what you get: Some Guy playing Popular Classics on a synthesizer, and random shots of toys, colors, faces, clocks, more toys, puppets, etc.  Babies will find it fascinating.  And the nice thing about a lack of narrative is, you won't get tired of watching it either.  Because there is no content.  There's nothing to get hooked on.  And if you get that Mozart sonata stuck in your head for a day, well, that's better than the theme song to Magical Do Re Mi.

There are some later Baby Einstein videos that stretch the concept a little too thin, and the Baby Newton video features a rhythm-and-blues song about shapes that is a little too catchy (and involves a clown), but these well-worn tapes have saved more than one afternoon in my house.

Anything with animals.  There is one tape called something like Mozart Nature Symphony or something and it's just about perfect.  30 minutes of Mozart and gorgeous "how'd they get that shot" animal photography.  There are two Baby Doolittle animal tapes, which mix live animal footage, some quite good, with skits involving animal puppets which are reductive in the extreme.  Like, Beckett's Act Without Words II kind of reductive.

Oh.  And Koyannisqatsi.  One night when Sam couldn't sleep, this movie kept my hands from around his neck for over an hour.  I don't think he made it all the way through it, but who could these days?

But this brings me to the real point.  These videos claim to be "teaching" something to your infants.  Maybe so, maybe not, and I don't really care.  The benefit, as far as I'm concerned, is not education, or even entertainment, but survival.  It's that they allow Mom and Dad to have a 30-minute conversation.

I just realized, I showed Sam Jurassic Park but refuse to show him Bambi.  How 'bout that.