Critics miss the point, and the charm, of Downey's "Dolittle"

Hey, critics, guess what? You aren’t my parents.

You weren’t there to take care of me when I got sick, and you weren’t there when my first girlfriend broke up with me. My parents taught me to think critically, but they also encouraged me to dream: They never told me my imaginary dragon friend wasn’t real or that I should put down The Hobbit and pick up War and Peace.

Which brings me to Robert Downey Jr.’s Dolittle, the latest adaptation of Hugh Lofting’s novels about a physician who can talk to animals.

The critics hate it. I mean they really hate it. As of this writing, critics have given it a 19% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. But here’s the thing. Audiences don’t hate it – not at all. So far, they’ve given it a 76% rating.

It isn’t unusual for audiences on RT to like movies more than the critics do. But the spread is usually more like 10 percentage points. So, what’s going on here?

Here’s my hypothesis: Critics have become so jaded and “grown-up,” they’ve forgotten how to think like kids. Jokes that kids enjoy are dismissed as “juvenile,” and themes that appeal to kids are either simplistic or ignored altogether.

The themes addressed in Dolittle include:

• Learning to work together and appreciate each other despite our differences (Yoshi the polar bear and Plimpton the ostrich).

• Overcoming fear to stand up for ourselves and our friends (Chee-Chee the gorilla).

• Looking for the hurt behind someone’s bitterness and anger (the constipated dragon).

Perhaps most telling is the film’s message about grief, and moving past the cynicism it can cause in order to help others.

No wonder critics don’t like this film: Most of them are cynical by nature.

I suspect most of them were prepared to dislike this movie for a couple of reasons. First of all, word leaked out that the movie had been delayed for extensive reshoots after the film did poorly with test audiences. So, critics were looking for inconsistencies from the get-go and wound up labeling the film jumbled and disjointed.

But it’s not either of those things. There’s nothing difficult to follow about it, the plot is clear, and it moves quickly from scene to scene without any of the bloated storytelling that sank the first Dolittle adaptation, the 1967 musical featuring Rex Harrison.

Second, it’s geared toward a family audience. Remember, we’re dealing with an industry that almost never uses the “G” rating anymore because it’s considered the kiss of death: Not “edgy” enough; too “childish.”

Mistaking child-friendly for childish is something critics seem predisposed to do, and that’s a huge mistake. When it comes down to it, the messages you’ll find in Dolittle are the kind of messages good parents teach their kids. They also serve as reminders to adults who can become exhausted and even lost as we navigate a challenging, difficult world.

They’re the kind of messages that go down best with a spoonful of sugary sweetness. That’s not a quality critics like. But in a world often defined by conflict, defensiveness and fatalism, it’s precisely what we need – whether we’re kids or adults.

Mild spoiler: There’s a scene in which Dolittle encounters a bitter old tiger named Barry who’s always been told he isn’t good enough. The Doctor’s treatment? Reflect a bit of sunlight on the floor and have Barry chase it around like a kitten. On the surface, it’s a simple device to distract the tiger from attacking our hero; but it’s also a metaphor for the lost innocence of childhood.

That’s one reason this is actually a good film: It encourages us, like Barry the Tiger, to put aside our bitterness and play at being a child again.

Critics either missed this or don’t care, but audiences get it.

An approval rating of 76 percent isn’t perfect, and neither is the movie. Robert Downey Jr.’s weird accent makes him sound like he’s hoarse or whispering half the time. And at one point, he states there’s no map to their destination – so it’s a surprise to see the characters consulting maps later on. The villain, played by Michael Sheen, appears to have been left behind on the open sea, but somehow arrives at the island ahead of Dolittle.

But these things are quibbles when measured against the movie’s overall tone, which is upbeat and hopeful: something we could use a lot more of these days. Downey plays Dolittle as a very quirky but very human character, striking a good balance between lighthearted fun and insight into the human condition.

It’s also worth noting that this Dolittle film, at least so far, has easily the best audience rating of any Dolittle film on Rotten Tomatoes. Its 76% rating compares to a 57% mark for the 1967 film, a 34% rating for Eddie Murphy’s 1998 remake, and a 26% showing for Murphy’s sequel three years later. Three further sequels in the Murphy movies (without Murphy), garnered scores of 45, 45 and 52%.

The takeaway: Downey’s version scores nearly 20 points better than any of the others among audiences.

But critics somehow think it’s the worst.

Can we say, “Out of touch”?

George Bernard Shaw wrote that “those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.” I’d add this: “Those who can’t do either one, criticize.” Teaching requires in-depth knowledge of a process that can be passed along to students; criticism requires just one thing: an opinion.

Well, to quote Dirty Harry Callahan: “Opinions are like assholes. Everybody has one.”

In this case, critics seem to have more than their share. I’ll take a constipated dragon over a constipated critic any day.

Samuel L. Jackson just made struggling artists feel like shit

I’m a fan of Samuel L. Jackson’s work, and that’s probably not going to change. I enjoy his acting. I’m also a critic of Donald J. Trump, and that certainly ain’t gonna change. I don’t enjoy his play-acting as president.

But what Jackson said in repudiating Trump stuck in my craw: “I know how many motherfuckers hate me. ‘I’m never going to see a Sam Jackson movie again.’ Fuck I care? If you never went to another movie I did in my life, I’m not going to lose any money. I already cashed that check.”

Emphasis mine.

Here’s the point: Jackson can afford not to care. Most actors, writers, visual artists and musicians can’t. Jackson doesn’t have to choose between his integrity and his bank account. Gee, that must be nice.

He goes on to say he does care about health care, but not because he wants the best for his loved ones. Because he wants to protect his bank account(!): “Some of this shit does affect me, because if we don’t have health care, and my relatives get sick, they’re going to call my rich ass.”

Ask me if I feel sorry for him.

Somehow, he’s got enough money not to care about pro-Trump haters, but not enough money to care more about whether his relatives get good health care than the prospect of having to for it.

Actually, I agree with Jackson on this issue, too. The prices for hospital stays and prescription drugs are obscene; the system is broken, and it’s causing people to lose their homes, their cars and their retirement savings. But let’s be clear here: That’s not going to happen to Jackson if one of his relatives gets sick.

Say, for example, one of them had to stay a month in the hospital. At $30,000 a day, that would be $900,000. Yeah, that’s a lot of money. Now say it cost another $900,000 for surgical procedures and meds. Let’s round up to the nearest million. That’s $2 million. Yes, that would break most people. But Jackson? His net worth, as of 2019, is 111 times that much: $220 million. It’s a drop in the bucket for the man who made the 2011 Guinness Book of World Records as the highest-grossing actor of all time.

Gimme mine

Maybe Jackson’s just trying to be funny. He has, in fact, donated money to more than two dozen charities, including $1 million for the Smithsonian’s new National Museum of African American History and Culture. But in spite of this, his latest comments come off as gloating. I’ve got my $220 million, and I’m gonna keep it.

And why shouldn’t he? He’s a good actor. He’s worked hard, and he deserves what he’s got. No argument there.

But there’s a flip side to his comments: A lot of people work just as hard and are just as good at what they do, but they struggle to get by. Vincent Van Gogh, famously, sold just one painting during his entire lifetime. He died a pauper. He killed himself. There are thousands of good – even great – artists, writers, actors and musicians you’ve never heard of who are in the same boat. Yet the notion persists that how much you have in your bank account defines your value as a person.

Bullshit, motherfucker.

Economic entitlement

In a world increasingly sensitive to attitudes of race- and gender-based entitlement, the concept of economic entitlement remains largely ignored. Health-care and education reforms are stymied. Sure, there’s talk about a $15 minimum wage, but that’s not even a living wage for most people. And indexing it to the cost of living? You might as well try planning a trip to Jupiter. Anyone who suggests leveling the playing field is accused of (gasp) socialism and de facto thievery.  

Because economic hardship isn’t always tied up in things like racial and gender identity, it’s assumed that those who don’t have money somehow deserve it. They’re a bunch of lazy good-for-nothings leeching off society because they’re allergic to hard work or don’t produce something of real value. Art? That’s dismissed as a “luxury.” But Jackson can’t very well say that, because he’s an artist too.

The work he produces is extremely valuable, but so was the work Van Gogh did. And he never complained about having to support a sick relative, because he never even had that option: His brother was the one supporting him.

This is why it’s so jarring to hear a rich actor issuing such a complaint, even if it’s to highlight the inequities of a broken health care system. Regardless of how talented he is or how many charities he’s supported, this is how it comes across: I’ve got my $220 million. You can’t have any of it.

Ironically, this is exactly how Trump thinks. He’s got his, and nothing else matters. Jackson is a Trump critic, yet he comes across as sharing the same attitude – unless he was just joking, in which case it’s not very funny. Because the joke is on creative folks who aren’t worth one one-ten thousandth of what he is.

I applaud Jackson for criticizing Trump. I share his views. But he doesn’t deserve any special pat on the back for voicing them when he has, by his own admission, no financial stake in the game. The people who do deserve props are the struggling artists who could lose a sale by speaking out – but do so anyway. The unknown Vincent Van Goghs of our time who might just, one day, change the world.