Oh bother, the #@£% bus is late again.
No matter what criticisms I can aim at Disney’s live-action take on beloved icon Winnie-the-Pooh, the enjoyment experienced by my young son—who knew nothing of Pooh and thought the movie was about Batman’s sidekick—provides the more paramount conclusion. Still, the children’s film awkwardly chooses to focus on a grown-up Christopher Robin (Ewan McGregor), who has lost all memory of the fun he had in the Hundred Acre Wood, when it could have allowed his daughter, Madeline (Bronte Carmichael), to traipse through the woods with Pooh and company.
Unwisely, the film opens with a wordy prologue most younger children will be unable to (and polite parents will refuse to) read. Ultimately, it is a children’s movie about a grown man made by grown men—the one demographic least likely to go see Christopher Robin, even with their children in tow. But those are the words of a Woozle or a Heffalump. The honey-like sweetness of the lessons learned in A.A. Milne’s original stories are timeless, even when his anthropomorphic animal friends are unleashed upon post-war London. Christopher Robin reveals a suitably autumnal chapter in the life of Winnie-the-Pooh that should please adult and child alike. Not bad for a silly old nonagenarian.