Who would have guessed that the sequel
to an adorable, perfect family film would become not only an existential classic, but a
triumph of design, characterization, surrealism, and one of the best films of 1998?
Babe
: Pig in the City is fantastic. It may not make the younger kids as
happy as the first one did, but there's plenty
there to keep them entertained and engaged while at the same time
causing parents' eyes to widen at the
ambitious social and spiritual subtext. This is a story about the simple
shaming the wise, about love humbling the proud and the complicated.
It's one of those films where the big-city types scorn the boy from the
country and say, "You may think you know what
life's about, but you're in the big city now,"
and then they go on to see just how fragile is
the foundation that they're standing on.
When the Farmer Hoggett
(James Cromwell) is injured through a
mishap caused by his clumsy but kind-hearted pig, it's Mrs. Hoggett who is on her feet and
able to try and save the farm from those nasty suits that want to buy it. She's off
to the big city to try to score the fortune that will save them.
But upon arrival in
the big city, she abruptly loses the pig, spends the rest of the film staggering from one
catastrophe to another, while Babe ends up wandering dark streets surviving narrow escapes
from the more dangerous elements of this downtown zoo (and I mean "zoo"
literally.) Babe learns quickly that the animal folk of the city are generally
heartless, selfish, and they stand back and watch while the innocent are victimized by the
criminal element.
But
the stout-hearted courage that won
Babe fame and fortune on the farm re-surfaces in a place where love and bravery are a new
concept. And the animals are
soon lining up before him like pilgrims before Christ,
or parishioners before their priest. There's even a
scene that suggests a communion ceremony, a pardoning of sins, as Babe turns a jar of
jellybeans into a feast for the hungry.
In the first film, Babe had something to prove to
himself; he had to solve an identity crisis and do what he only he could do, a lesson that
bears telling in a hundred thousand stories. Here, he has a tougher task. With
the courage of his convictions, he must put his own life on the line, offering it up for
the lives of his friends, of the poor lost souls in the mad mad city, whether they
understand and appreciate it or not. The symbolism of Babe's Christ-likeness is so
solemn and effective, it's awe-inspiring.
And the masses to whom he ministers are
not just a bunch of losers; they're distinct characters,
including
- the
pit bull whose heart is transformed by mercy;
- the tempermental goldfish who may not even comprehend the grace
extended to him;
-
and the old, melancholy orangutan.
This philosophical monkey who lives in the attic
and stares out through a stained-glass window searching for enlightenment stands as a
sort of King Solomon, crying "Vanity, all is vanity."
He's the film's most
powerful, memorable presence.
In the final act, Miller makes this near-surrealism
all the stranger by re-staging a parody of his own Mad Max:Beyond Thunderdome, stringing
up the sizeable Mrs. Hoggett in a sort of "American Gladiators" combat with gourmet chefs as
she disrupts an upper-class event while trying to recover her lost pig. Three-layer cakes
come crashing down, balloons bombard the ballroom, people soar on strings, baby
chimpanzees dangle from the chandeliers... but somehow it all makes some sort of crazy
sense. If he can be faulted for anything, Miller has a little too much fun in the
chaos of the finale.
But he recovers nicely, wrapping up the story with
just the right note of victory and loss. Not every character walks away into a happy
ending, but this is not your normal kiddy fare. This is the stuff of Dickens, told
on the scale of Blade Runner and Brazil,
with the madcap spirit of The Great Muppet
Caper. Built to last.
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