The Weekly Gravy #136

The Jungle Book (1967) – ***

I’ve been slacking on my rewatches of the Disney animated classics; the last one I watched, The Sword in the Stone, was way back in September. I didn’t much care for it, either; it had some good moments, but there wasn’t much to the story, the characters, or the animation. To a degree, you could say the same of The Jungle Book, which often plays on the level of animated sitcom; the serious moments aren’t that serious, the scary moments aren’t that scary, and the film flows cheerfully from episode to episode, ending with a reprise of “The Bare Necessities,” that ode to the lazy life which makes “Hakuna Matata” sound like “Sandstorm.” It’s one of the gentlest and most laid-back of Disney’s animated features.

The story is pretty slender. After finding the orphaned infant Mowgli in the jungle, the panther Bagheera (Sebastian Cabot) takes pity on him and enables his adoption by a local wolf pack. Some years pass and Mowgli (Bruce Reitherman) must leave the wolf pack, as the tiger Shere Khan (George Sanders) has returned to this particular part of the jungle and will certainly kill Mowgli rather than let him grow up and become a threat to the literally misanthropic Khan. Bagheera determines to lead the reluctant Mowgli to the nearest human settlement.

Complications arise in the form of the hypnotically manipulative cobra Kaa (Sterling Holloway), the cheerfully lazy bear Baloo (Phil Harris), the ambitious orangutan King Louie (Louis Prima), the elephant brigade led by the pompous Col. Hathi (J. Pat O’Malley), and a group of vultures who are clearly patterned after (and were originally intended to be voiced by) the Beatles. But it’s finally the sight of another human being – a girl his age (Darleen Carr) singing as she gathers water – who finally draws Mowgli back into the human world, leaving Baloo and Bagheera to reprise “The Bare Necessities” as they dance into the distance.

I haven’t seen Jon Favreau’s 2016 remake since it was in theaters, but childhood nostalgia notwithstanding, it might actually be the better film. No, it doesn’t have all the songs – and those it retains don’t work quite as well – but it does have an excellent voice cast, a solid performance by Neel Sethi as Mowgli, and it’s a more effective piece of storytelling whose moments of excitement and emotion carry greater weight than they do here.

Indeed, going back to it I’m a bit surprised just how slight this Book is. Although the time frame is fairly tight – most of the action takes place in two or three days at the most – and although there’s a clear through-line from the decision to send Mowgli back to humanity to his final return, the film’s tone and pacing make it feel loose and episodic, which makes for a pleasant experience, but not a very exciting one.

It makes the moments of action, like Mowgli being kidnapped by Louie’s agents and the climactic battle with Shere Khan, feel somewhat half-hearted, and it makes the ostensibly emotional moments – especially when Baloo is believed dead – feel like the fake-outs they are. And it makes elements like Col. Hathi and his regiment, who get a great deal of screentime but ultimately have no impact on the plot, feel like filler.

Other choices don’t work that well either. Despite Mowgli having apparently lived in the jungle for a number of years (“ten times the rains had come and gone,” says Bagheera), he apparently hasn’t met Baloo until the events of the film, yet they become devoted friends almost immediately, while the wolves who raised him are never so much as mentioned again! And Shere Khan, despite being played up as a fearsome force (though I’m curious how in all the time Mowgli was growing up, he never so much as heard about him), proves to be something of a, ahem, paper tiger when he actually appears.

At least he has charisma to spare; Mowgli is a fairly dull and unlikable protagonist, determined to remain in the jungle for vague reasons and ready to turn on his supposed friends in a heartbeat. I get that he’s a kid, but as kids go, he’s a brat. Bruce Reitherman’s vocal performance is adequate, but even allowing for the better writing, Sethi does a stronger job.

To be fair, as much as I’ve criticized it, this Book still has a fair amount going for it. The vocal performances are especially strong, with Cabot making Bagheera a fountain of weary common sense and dry wit, Harris giving Baloo plenty of oafish charm, and Sanders’ courtly chill nearly justifying the fear Shere Khan strikes into the hearts of those around him. Prima’s boisterous Louie and O’Malley’s veddy-British Hathi are quite fun as well.

And of course, there are the songs. “The Bare Necessities” is the established classic, and it’s very good indeed, but I actually prefer the jazzy, absurdly catchy “I Wan’na Be Like You” (ooh be doo) and the satirically martial “Col. Hathi’s March.” And that’s not to slight “Trust in Me,” “My Own Home,” or even the vulture’s barbershop piece “That’s What Friends Are For.” Something I didn’t know, by the way: while the Sherman Brothers wrote most of the songs, the most famous of them, “The Bare Necessities,” was actually written by Terry Gilkyson, who’d written a number of songs for the film, but Disney (Walt himself, that is) rejected the others for being “too dark.”

That desire to keep things light and amusing is felt throughout the film, for better or worse. It didn’t stop the film from being one of the biggest hits Disney ever had, or Gregory Peck, then president of the Academy, from urging them to nominate it for Best Picture (would’ve held up better than Doctor Dolittle, at least). But for me, it makes for a film that breezes by pleasantly but leaves less of an impression than I’d like.

Score: 74

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. (2023) – ***½

I read some Judy Blume in my youth, but I never read Margaret; I was instead drawn to Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing and its sequels (how did Fudge manage to swallow an entire turtle?) As such, I’m not sure just how closely the film follows the book, or what was added – although I suspect the role of Margaret’s mother Barbara (Rachel McAdams) was expanded, for reasons I’ll delve into presently. I also suspect the film tried to fit in as many of the novel’s story beats as the running time allowed – which is the main reason I don’t rate it at ****.

But first, the story, for those who don’t know. In 1970, Margaret Simon (Abby Ryder Fortson) is 11 and living in New York with her raised-Christian mother and her raised-Jewish father Herb (Benny Safdie); although she’s close to her father’s mother, Sylvia (Kathy Bates), Barbara’s parents have been out of the picture since before Margaret’s birth, as they disapproved of her marrying Herb. Coming home from summer camp, Margaret is dismayed to learn that she and her parents will be moving to suburban New Jersey, but shortly after they arrive, she makes a friend in Nancy Wheeler (Elle Graham).

Nancy recruits Margaret into the sixth-grade club she’s founded, along with Gretchen (Katherine Kupferer) and Janie (Amari Price), in which they discuss boys, bras, and getting their first periods; Margaret is deeply self-conscious about her lack of mammary and menstural development. She also, at the suggestion of her teacher Mr. Benedict (Echo Kellum), begins researching religion, attending the services of various faiths to try and decide which suits her best – much to her parents’ consternation, though Sylvia is delighted to take her to the synagogue.

Barbara, meanwhile, has left her art-teaching job behind to focus on being a homemaker and mother, and gets involved with the PTA (to the point of over-commitment) while trying to properly furnish their new home and develop her decidedly lacking skills in the kitchen. She also reaches out to her parents, leading to a surprise visit where the matter of Margaret’s religious affiliation comes to head.

This, along with the profound shame she feels after insulting a gossiped-about classmate, leaves Margaret feeling very low indeed, and she stops speaking to God (her frequent addresses to the Almighty give the story its title), but as summer arrives, time heals those wounds, and right before leaving for camp, she finally gets her period – and thanks God for it.

The film covers a good nine months and encompasses a large cast of supporting characters, including quite a few of Margaret’s classmates and Nancy’s social-butterfly mother (Kate MacCluggage). That’s a decent amount of territory for a 105-minute film to cover, and I often felt the film flitted from scene to scene too quickly, giving the scenes and many of the characters (really, everyone besides Margaret, Barbara, and Sylvia) too little room to breathe. It’s far from a fatal flaw, but it makes the film feel more like a condensation of the novel than an adaptation.

It’s the more frustrating because the performances are so strong and many of the scenes have at least moments of power and resonance. Fortson and McAdams are especially strong, and their performances really do work together, as we see just how similar their efforts to fit in, while also trying to be themselves in a world of conformity, really are. Bates is delightful as the loving, yet overbearing Sylvia (she reminds me so much of a family friend who would’ve loved this movie), while Graham balances Nancy’s tendency to be the queen bee with a human vulnerability that can’t be denied.

Add in Safdie as the dorkishly sweet Herb, Kellum as the kind and supportive Mr. Benedict, and all the other cast members who fit their roles very well indeed, and you’ve got a fine ensemble – but some of the credit must go to writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig, whose sure hand, especially with the younger actors, makes so much of the film ring so true.

Obviously, some of the credit must go to Blume’s novel, but Craig finds the humor and poignancy in scenes as seemingly mundane as Margaret and Janie buying sanitary napkins, Nancy getting her first period out of the blue, and a lavish birthday party for an unpopular classmate (which everyone nonetheless attends and goes to great lengths to get ready for), while nailing the heavier moments, in particular the excruciating argument which inevitably develops over the question of Margaret’s affiliation. The Edge of Seventeen showed Craig’s affinity for stories about female adolescence, and Margaret, its shortcomings aside, represents a step forward. I’m interested to see what she does next.

On a technical level, it’s quite smoothly done, with period details that ring true and a nice, low-key score by Hans Zimmer. While it’ll probably work just a bit better for those who know and love the source material, Margaret is a worthy entertainment for those who want to know – or remember – what it’s like to be a young girl who can’t wait – or thinks she can’t wait – to be a woman.

Score: 84