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Give up? "So they could fly the coop." That's why.
Per this animated feature by writer-director-animators Peter Lord and Nick Park, learning to fly becomes a matter of life and death. For on a bleak chicken farm in Yorkshire, England, circa 1950s, where profits are the bottom line, push has come to shove. To illustrate this harsh reality early on in the doings, a hen that has not made her egg-laying quota is led to a dismal chamber where we see only a hatchet wedged in a log. The door is closed. We hear the thump. An eerie pall spreads across the farm's drab landscape. No one -- man, woman or chicken -- needs this Business #101 lesson further explained.
Now, the question is, what is the age cut-off for a child not to be haunted by this rather effective illustration?
Granted, though there is nary another scene as harsh as this one, young children will quickly digest that this cartoon plays by different rules. This isn't the indestructible Wily Coyote who springs back into shape after being run over by a steam-roller, or who issues a declaratory "meep, meep" to announce his amazing survival after just being blown to smithereens. We know, and little Johnny knows, that we're not going to see that chicken again. Therefore, if you figure it's time for Brittany to get that big splash in the face, this is it. But have a heart. At least wait until after Christmas before destroying the Santa Claus myth. Of course, if the offspring in question is over 10, there's no concern. By then they can school you in the hard knocks of life.
That noted, what follows is an exquisitely produced fable constructed of the same sort of "claymation" figures employed in Toy Story (actually, they're vinyl). Derivative of a genre that has traditionally spoken to a more sophisticated audience, the well-written tale is dappled with biting observation and astute political commentary.
The story of a group of hens who enlist Rocky The Flying Rooster (voiced by Mel Gibson) to help them escape their certain doom has the ironic faith of a Shalom Aleichem parable mixed with the moral tone of Charlotte's Web and the political prescience of Animal Farm. Adults will be happy that they can see a children's movie without checking their brains at the box office. But is it really a children's movie?
The buttoned down and often very British humour may be lost on the 5-year-old still gulping from the opening scene. And the aforementioned 10-year-old, who would probably rather be downloading nuclear secrets from the Pentagon, might think it corny. Though, in the name of familial bonding, he or she may deign to enjoy the film for your sake. So refined, so moral and so painstakingly crafted, of course it's the kind of movie parents would want their children to like. However, like the child who is bought the sturdier and more expensive shoes rather than the cheap but more stylish ones, Tyler may wonder why he couldn't see "The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle" instead. Maybe someday while at Harvard he'll even write an essay about it.
The plot is simple. Rocky, a wayward circus rooster, lands inside the perimeter of the gloomy farm run by domineering Mrs. Tweedy (voiced by Amanda Richardson) and her conspiracy-crazed husband. Paranoid Mr. Tweedy, who obsessively spies on the chickens, is consumed with the capitalist's nightmare. He is certain that they are organising. Entirely impatient with her ineffectual spouse whenever he verbalises these fears, Mrs. Tweedy angrily retorts: "They are chickens! They are not organising!" Of course the milksop is absolutely right. Head hen Ginger (Julia Sawalha) has been leading clandestine meetings. But little hope of escape exists until Rocky falls on their square.
Naturally, these two opposites are destined to attract. She's the pragmatist, the properly British moral anchor. He's the Yank, the philosophical gadabout, sort of a cross between Bing Crosby in A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court and Burt Lancaster in The Rainmaker. Their romantic symbiosis reminds of Bogart and Hepburn in The African Queen. He's got the ingenuity; she has the vision of Columbia. And the banter that ensues is as comically engaging as it is sociologically astute. In fact, most of the chickens know their way around a clever metaphor or two.
Numerous conventions of behaviour are held up and chided for their stuffy pretension; others are nobly regaled for their civilising virtues. So as Rocky and his enthusiastic students prepare for their aeronautical escape, the convolutions along the way are generally merry. Well, as merry as can be expected in what is ostensibly a concentration camp for chickens.
Unfortunately, things are going to get even direr. Tired of making what amounts to, if you'll excuse the expression, chicken feed, Mrs. Tweedy steps up her business plan when she buys a chicken pot pie-making machine. Just pop a chicken in one side, then wait for the pastry to come out the other end.
The ramifications of this capital investment are not lost on the chickens, thus necessitating a quicker game plan from our fine-feathered friends. But, ah, the best laid plans of mice and chickens. It's at precisely this crisis point in the story when Ginger learns that her fly boy just may not be all that he's been cock-a-doodle-dooing about.
There's no denying the level of quality that Messrs. Lord and Park achieve in this cartoon satire. And no doubt, their preoccupation with chickens hatches a humanistic and literate tale. But aside from the precocious children of college professors and certain adults who, for some reason or another, prefer their life lessons acted out by animated poultry, just who is Chicken Run for? Trying to figure that out has sure ruffled my feathers. However, I do admit a sudden appetite for chicken potpie.
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