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The Polar Express
(2004)
Dir: Robert Zemeckis
Well thank god someone knows what’s going on; because I’m one lost sonofbitch. My brother and I just watched the latest in the Zemeckis/Hanks-duo films, The Polar Express. They haven’t made a great number of movies together, but because of their successes, their names are becoming synonymous. What’s left to say about Forest Gump? Cast Away still holds the record for getting me to weep over a volleyball. And now, The Polar Express. This film confused with its tale of a young boy on his way to the north pole. It begins with a train that picks up children on Christmas eve and takes them to the north pole to witness the first gift being given. I quickly realized they were going to skip the part where they explain why certain children are on the train’s list, because there’s no criteria. One girl has given all her faith to Santa, the main character is loosing his faith, and a third only is puzzling over his devotion. While watching this film, my mind was stomping around inside my head, going through countless memories trying to figure out if I’d ever read this story or if its characters were at all familiar. By the end I realized, no, I haven’t, and I have a lot of junk stuck in there that will probably have to be lobotomized out someday. Sitting there dazed as the credits rolled, I couldn’t put it together. Why these children? What was the hobo/ghost doing on the train? And what’s with the sudden song and dance routine.
When the credits finished their scrolling and the lights came up I saw a familiar face sitting two rows in front of me. This face belonged to Jennifer, a frequent customer at the video store where I work. Seeing as only four people were in the giant theater, myself included, I felt it would be appropriate to start a conversation. This conversation was really an excuse to spout all the problems I found with the film, so I could go home feeling like a cool film snob--like I do at the video store all the time. I failed. This girl had me beat. She understood the movie. She loved the movie. She had all the answers because she knew about the book this film is based on. I was so embarrassed that I promptly retreated to my computer to write out my own theory, hoping to reclaim a little dignity after my defeat. My theory is this: if you’re adapting a book to screen, you have to explain the entire story. You can’t leave things out which will lead to someone like me cursing at the screen throughout the whole thing because I don’t understand it. Wouldn’t it suck if every film you saw, you had to read the book or research the storyline first? Like Shakespeare’s plays. No one understands him until some teacher comes along and explains why everyone is speaking like Yoda. Understand this movie, you didn’t. I don’t think people will understand The Polar Express unless they’ve read the book, and that’s an impractical way to make movies.
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