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TIME: Almanac 1995
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1994-04-08
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<text id=93TT1383>
<title>
Apr. 05, 1993: Reviews:Cinema
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
Apr. 05, 1993 The Generation That Forgot God
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 60
CINEMA
The Art of Childhood
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By RICHARD CORLISS
</p>
<qt>
<l>WHAT: Five Movies About Kids</l>
<l>WHERE: From The U.S., Europe And The Great French North</l>
</qt>
<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: Hollywood can still spin a cute kids'
fable, but a film from Quebec gets the magic and fear right.
</p>
<p> America is the land of the perpetual teen. We want to stay
young forever, to build longer-lasting bodies and minds
nourished on fantasy. Let somebody else play grownup; we're all
too busy being Aladdin, pledging for Animal House, romping in
the backyard with a dog named Beethoven, living in Wayne's
World.
</p>
<p> In Europe kids grow up different--earlier and tougher.
Parents still wield authority; Papa could be Yahweh with a
toothache, and Mama could sell her daughter into child
prostitution. And because Death hangs around the house like a
spinster aunt, the kids must ever be packed off to relatives for
whom child care is just the latest of life's dirty tricks.
Sometimes the kids run away and never come back. No wonder
children in European films often look like stunted adults. Since
birth they've been in a dress rehearsal for distress.
</p>
<p> The proof of these dour bromides is found in five new
movies about kids. Two are from abroad: Gianni Amelio's Italian
drama Il Ladro di Bambini (Stolen Children) and Jean-Claude
Lauzon's Leolo, from Quebec. Three are from Disney: Duwayne
Dunham's Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey, Mikael
Salomon's A Far Off Place and Stephen Sommers' The Adventures
of Huck Finn.
</p>
<p> Blame it all on Mark Twain. His novels about Tom Sawyer
and Huckleberry Finn established not only the quest theme for
20th century American literature but also the matter and manner
of kids' movies. Sommers' brisk, pretty version of Huck's
wayward youth gets most of Twain's words right, even if the
music sounds like a TV jingle. Huck (plucky Elijah Wood) eludes
his troglodyte father (Ron Perlman, doing an uncanny Tom Waits
impression) for an eventful honeymoon on a raft with Nigger Jim
(just plain Jim here, in a nicely balanced performance by
Courtney B. Vance). Huck's runaway mouth gets them in trouble,
and his wit gets them out.
</p>
<p> The other two Disney films have similar plots. Indeed, add
a female character and the two pictures have identical plots. In
A Far Off Place, three kids in their early teens--a New York
City boy (Ethan Randall), a white girl raised in Africa (Reese
Witherspoon) and a Bushman (Sarel Bok)--find that poachers
have massacred the white children's parents, so they resolve to
cross 1,300 miles of the Kalahari Desert to alert the law. The
cutesy Homeward Bound is the same story, with three variations:
the family is missing, not dead; the hostile terrain is the
Western U.S.; and the intrepid youngsters are two dogs and a cat
(voiced by Michael J. Fox, Sally Field and Don Ameche). Only the
species have been changed to protect the copyright.
</p>
<p> These and other American films about children are like a
progressive preschool. In them, youngsters learn social skills
through fantasy war games. Most of the favorite American kids'
films, from The Wizard of Oz to E.T. and Home Alone, are rites
of self-reliance. Children face adult obstacles (or rather,
superhero torture tests) and in surmounting them become adults
(or rather, Hollywood's ideal of adults, as kids with weapons).
Real parents are redundant in fables for latchkey kids; all
authority figures are oafish, evil or, mostly, absent. The lost
child finds his own way home.
</p>
<p> The downside of independence is isolation, and it's in
this psychological Kalahari that non-American kid movies dare
to dwell. Some of 1992's most provocative and poignant European
films--Toto le Heros, Olivier Olivier and The Long Day
Closes, to be released in the U.S. in May--are about children
whom cruelty or circumstance forces to create a world of their
own. Il Ladro di Bambini has this theme. The state has removed
two children (Valentina Scalici and Giuseppe Ieracitano) from
their mother's care, since for two years she has forced the
girl, 11, to be a child prostitute. A naive policeman (Enrico
Lo Verso) is directed to take them to an orphanage, where
Rosetta is refused. Thus begins a road movie in which the cop
becomes a playmate, then a father to the street-battered kids,
and the children learn to trust people a little. A little too
much.
</p>
<p> This much lauded movie has some of young Scalici's
sullenly vixenish charm. But Stolen Children is also a little
too pat in its direction and characterizations and in its
dramatic arc from bondage to liberation to mute acceptance of
fate's bureaucratic whims. For a movie that worms inside a
child's hopes and fears, that understands how kids can be both
shaped by their family and in righteous rebellion against it,
you should see--immediately--Leolo.
</p>
<p> Leo Lozeau (Maxime Collin) lives in a Montreal hovel with
his surpassingly strange family. Father (Roland Blouin) is a
brute laborer; "wrinkles line his face and reveal nothing but
the age that dug them." Mother (Ginette Reno) loves the boy,
but she is obsessed with bowel movements as nature's
prophylactic--"Push, my love," she whispers urgently to the
infant Leo, a captive princeling enthroned on a potty. His near
mute sisters Nanette and Rita shuttle dully from fantasy to
insanity, from home to the local asylum. His brother,
musclebound Fernand (Yves Montmarquette), is so frail of spirit
that he is prey for the scrawniest bully. His gross grandfather
(Julien Guiomar) has tried to drown Leo, who can't wait to
return the favor.
</p>
<p> The rest of the family gets along well enough--"at
times," Leo says, "their lunacies harmonized"--but he is an
outsider, an orphan. These people think he is theirs. Leo knows
better: "Because I dream, I'm not." He is half Italian: Leolo
Lozone, conceived during his mother's fruitful collision with
a sperm-soaked Sicilian tomato. A bright, lonely boy could not
be the spawn of this horrid clan. Surely he is not destined to
replicate their mean lives and dead-end careers or the madness
to which they are all heir. And so, in this slum of bruised
humanity that never seems quite human to him, where "the birds
endlessly bitch about winter," Leo will scribble his thoughts
about his family. He will erect a castle of words on the fertile
ground of his imagination, on the fetid soil of his craving for
love, revenge and escape.
</p>
<p> Mostly love--or lust, since Leo is 12 and increasingly
preoccupied with "the tail that swelled between my legs." The
two scents, sweet and acrid, mingle whenever he sees his dream
girl, Bianca (Giuditta Del Vecchio), a dark-haired waif who
lives nearby. He has visions of Bianca standing in a Sicilian
glade, singing Italian love songs in her thin, pure voice.
Through the bathroom keyhole he has other views of Bianca. He
watches her adjust her underclothes, then sees she is not alone.
Grandfather is in the tub, naked, handing her money. "Sex," Leo
writes, "I discovered between ignorance and horror."
</p>
<p> Can any child, isolated inside his best instincts, survive
for long, when family, school, class, the whole sordid world
conspire to crush him? Leo can't. But Leolo can; his
autobiography is saved by the one stranger who might have helped
him. Certainly Lauzon, who testifies that this grotesque family
portrait is based on fact, survived and thrived--to make a
beautiful film. His story, in this boldly voluptuous telling,
reminds us of two truths: no remembered childhood is so bizarre
that it cannot have occurred; and the surest way to purge demons
is to impale them on the page or screen--to turn ignorance
into understanding and horror into art.
</p>
<p> Leolo finally declares, "And I shall rest my head between
two worlds, in the Valley of the Vanquished." That is where we
all live, suspended between childhood and its haunting
afterimage. Hollywood wants us to think of youth as a ripping
yarn, where every adventure has a happy ending. Leolo sees
childhood as the acid test for maturity.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>