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1996, the best year in movie history, pt. 14: Fly away home

Carroll Ballard has directed three fine movies about comunion between beasts and humans. The best, which everyone should see, is Never Cry Wolf (1983), in which a biologist, closely observing wolves, rediscovers his sense of childlike wonderment. The other two movies have children as protagonists. In The Black Stallion (1979), a boy and a horse are shipwrecked together on a tropical island; after they’re rescued, the boy becomes the horse’s racing jockey. And in Fly Away Home (1996), a girl (Anna Paquin) becomes a foster mother to some young geese.

This girl, a New Zealander, has just lost her mother and been brought to live with her father in his cluttered Ontario farmhouse. She isn’t very enthused about her father or her new school, but she enjoys the woods and fields. Her explorations give the camera a reason to linger over rural beauty.

Her father (Jeff Daniels) is a live-action version of a Hayao Miyazaki cartoon character. That is to say, he is an eccentric inventor, sculptor, and aeronaut. Flight is the theme of his creations. They include a gigantic metal dragon, a full-scale replica of the lunar landing module, and various leg-powered or motorized flying contraptions that he tests himself. He flies them well enough, but his landings are painful.

The inventor and his friends are full of sympathy for the girl, who is obviously lonely and frustrated (she wears her dead mother’s clothes around the house). But they are unable to earn her trust until another tragedy brings them under a common cause.

Some developers bulldoze a nearby woodland. Exploring the wreckage, the girl finds some abandoned goose eggs. She sneaks the eggs into a barn, incubates them, and watches the goslings hatch. Since she is the first creature they see, they regard her as their mother. They eat and bathe with her and follow her through the weeds and creeks and forests.

Only a broad-minded man would agree to have his house taken over by geese. The girl’s father doesn’t hesitate. By allowing his daughter to care for the geese, he helps her to come to terms with her mother’s death.

Eventually, however, it becomes clear that the geese must travel southward. It’s their instict; also, there are bureaucrats who’d destroy their habitat or even clip their wings. But without a mother to guide them, they’d never be able to find their way home.

And so the girl and her father decide to ride their aircraft to the south, over lakes and fields and skyscrapers, directing the geese in their migration.


Though all of this is fairly predictable, the movie isn’t on autopilot. Individual scenes play out in interesting ways, and certain passages evoke this biblical verse:
How think you? if a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, does he not leave the ninety and nine, and go into the mountains, and seek that which is gone astray?
(Substitute “geese” for “sheep.”)

There’s poignancy, also, in the father’s love for his daughter, and in the daughter’s engagement with the memory of her mother through her mothering of the geese. Best of all, though, is the lovely nature photography. The movie often feels like a nature documentary. It’s a bonus that an interesting human drama is happening in the background.

A feast

Quite a few of Karin’s relatives had birthdays this week. We celebrated two of them yesterday during a family gathering. We ate an enormous lunch of pork chops, fruity gelatinous salad, broccoli salad, pickles, and mushroom-sauced venison with boiled carrots and potatoes. For dessert, we ate “Hoosier” pie and a German chocolate cake that Karin had been paid $20 to prepare. Each slice of cake had about 900 calories. We ate so much that Karin & I slept all afternoon and then didn’t bother to eat supper.

In the evening, Karin fainted and fell on the bathroom floor. She seems OK, though.

Tonight, we ate leftover pork chops and potatoes.

Remembering the murder of James Byrd Jr.

Of all the murders that have occurred during my lifetime, the most sickening may have been that of James Byrd Jr. in Jasper, Texas, in 1998.

This crime has resurfaced in my consciousness because one of the murderers was executed today.

Small world

A lot of articles about South Bend’s mayor, Pete Buttigieg, have been appearing in my Facebook feed – especially now that he’s running for U.S. President.

One Facebook friend recently shared an article from The Daily Caller, a conservative news site founded by Tucker Carlson of Fox. What caught my eye was the reporter’s name. I did a little investigating. Sure enough: she’d been my “Introduction to Ethics” student at Cornell.

This is the second student of mine I’ve come across, in one way or another, in the national news.

The first has been serving as the mayor of Ithaca since January 1, 2012 – the same day Mayor Pete assumed office in South Bend.

Sjöwall & Wahlöö

In spare moments, I’ve been reading The Terrorists (1975), the last book of Sjöwall & Wahlöö’s crime series.

It begins with a scene of grotesquely comical political violence in South America.

My favorite policeman in the series, Gunvald Larsson, is on hand for the occasion. A fastidious dresser, he’s delighted to find that the banana republic he’s visiting has excellent tailors. (Apparently, tailoring is no longer practiced as a skilled craft in Sweden.) He commissions a new suit to be made for him.

This suit is, of course, ruined during the political upheaval.

A little later, in Stockholm, a young woman is brought to trial for robbing a bank. It’s proven that the “robbery” was a misunderstanding. All the young woman had done was to ask for money and to place a bag on the teller’s counter for the money to be put in. The teller had interpreted these actions as extremely threatening.

These facts are drawn out through the testimony of two other recurring characters, the bumbling patrolmen Kristiansson and Kvastmo.

Next, a famous pornographer is fatally coshed in his mistress’s house. The now very high-ranking detective Martin Beck is assigned to the case. He and a junior detective, Benny Skacke, spend a morning watching one of the pornographer’s movies, Love in the Midnight Sun.

At first, the junior detective winces uncomfortably at all the nudity. Then he yawns. The movie is very boring and unerotic.

This is clearly a lampooning of those Swedish “masterpieces” of the late 1960s, I Am Curious (Yellow) and I Am Curious (Blue), which are now in the Criterion Collection. (No, I haven’t watched them.)

As I’ve read through its ten books, Sjöwall & Wahlöö’s series has reminded me of something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Something with lots of recurring, cartoon-like characters and scenes of wry screwball comedy.

Now I know what it is.

It’s Tintin.