David O'ConnellDiary of a Wimpy Kid
September 8th 2010 03:42
You’ve got to love Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Well, part of you does. Even the title allures: could it be my own life story? As a kid puttering through endless, anonymous years of underwhelming scholasticity, I was a wimp of some conviction. I had a diary too. And valuable things to say. I also watched The Brady Bunch on a semi-regular basis, bought Village People cassettes, voraciously consumed Coco Pops after school every day, and once dreamed of having vegemite injected into my veins, so in lust was I from birth with its salty magnificance. But the truth is that you eventually strike a bargain with maturity and reason, for to peer backwards is to do so with acute embarrassment: times change, sugar kills and for the love of God, The Village People were gay!
Back to the future then: here at last is a movie in which the aforementioned wimpy kid, Greg Heffley (Zachary Gordon), is only marginally obnoxious - compared to your average American movie moppet - and even then in an almost endearing way. He’s a bit of a smart-arse but poses no threat to the jocks in terms of physicality or strike-force babe-magnetism. He’s Mr. Anonymous, a hard-to-take-seriously pipsqueak about to start Middle School, and his best friend is a fat kid. With red hair. And thus clearly a buffoon ripe for unrelenting ridicule. That’s what the American High School rulebook says anyway. It’s like the Law of the Jungle – except for people who can read.
Greg’s family include the usual caricatures: the older brother, Rodrick (Devon Bostick) who beats on him when not proffering dire warnings about the helplessness of resisting the inevitable torture of Middle School; then there’s the parental figures (Rachael Harris and Steve Zahn) a couple of dorky and conveniently non-existent role models in their own right.
Greg and best mate Rowley (Robert Capron) are outsiders from the get-go; they’re invisible and redundant, attracting only special-needs dweebs and Asian minorities as potential friends. They constantly get picked on and left behind, though a cool chick from the school newspaper, Angie (Hit-Girl herself, Chloe Moretz), saunters in irregularly to offer sage advice to the dim-witted duo.
Then an unlikely sequence of events sees Rowley becoming popular overnight via a broken arm and an absurdly successful entry in a school writing competition. Poor Greg is left in the lurch, resorting to the ignominy of posing with those on the lowest rung on the evolutionary ladder for nerds to make Rowley jealous.
There’s a silly running gag about a huge piece of cheese long left untouched in the playground with a legend attached to it. Whoever touches the cheese directly acquires the “cheese touch”, a condition that can be passed on through physical contact alone. Instant pariah status is assured but it’s now been festering and mutating through the passing of incalculable seasons. It’s destined to play a role in the film’s finale however – that much is certain.
Greg (Zachary Gordon) flanked by Rowley (Robert Capron) and Angie (Chloe Moretz)
The film is directed with a light and breezy touch by Thor Freudenthal, hot off his stirring tribute to canines with special needs, Hotel for Dogs (2009). It doesn’t thrill precisely but it has a heartbeat at least and a pair of schoolyard anti-heroes you can root for - and might even catch glimpses of yourself in. The insertion of illustrative sketches that come to life - and presumably capture the tone of Jeff Kinney’s series of books - are a clever touch that aren’t overdone to the point of annoyance.
What does it all boil down to? Well, there’s a familiar ring to the main themes: the fickle nature of friendship, peer group pressure and remaining true to a moral centre. All admirably wholesome topics and potentially useful for the curious teen, though probably not those of the 21st century. Today’s seething, defacing, emo-infected minions would rather seek the assurance of far more relevant contemporary life lessons: never lend out your X-Box, books are for four-eyed wieners, and narcissism is the new morality.
Theodore Shapiro’s sprightly score is a typically classy accompaniment – just what we’ve come to expect from a composer too often heard languishing in the realm of comedy. Will somebody give this brilliant classically trained musician another drama to score?
Diary of a Wimpy Kid (2010) is a simple-minded comedy that flirts with mediocrity whilst rising up to strike an inspired blow every once in a while. Its ingenuous nature and easy pratfalls provide a surefire recipe for mild entertainment if nothing else. You’ll most likely forget it all in a heartbeat but I assure you, 90 minutes blocks of your life have been lost to far less worthy causes.
Diary of a Wimpy Kid is released in Australian cinemas on September 23.
| 121 |
| Vote |
subscribe to this blog
Comment by Deni
Abstract Magick
Cinema Herald
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
Comment by ShaunK
Screen Adventure
P.S. I can practically see the tumbleweeds rolling along the deserted Orble planes these days.
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
With the sequel on the way you wouldn't want to fall behind the times mate, I think you should drag yourself off to see this.