This is Disney’s America.
Norman Rockwell would have been proud.
It’s a beautiful place where everyone wears fashionable clothing and enjoys shopping at the mall. Children respect their elders and there’s no such thing as a homeless person.
Everyone’s clean, no one swears and sexism and the objectification of women is mildly tolerable.
Political correctness doesn’t quite extend as far as black people kissing white people, but they’re working on it (then they’ll tackle the gay community).
Most importantly, everything is sterile. The colours are bright and vibrant, the people pretty and devoid of blemishes and even the ragged dogs who live on the streets are lovable and won’t try to hump your guinea pigs.
Yes, this is Disney’s America. When Moms die they go to Heaven and shine down like stars upon those left behind. Fathers are saddened by the loss to the point they can’t see pretty co-workers making passes at them, nor can they see six-foot African goddesses as remotely sexy. Little girls turn to the black arts for solace when their Mommy dies and instead of bringing her heaving zombie corpse back from Hell or all points south, they turn manufactured toy fluff into a real woman.
That’s the schmaltz they’re peddling in this 85 minute Model T-v little chick’s film from 1999. A little girl’s Mom dies and in an experiment to bring her back, the little girl actually brings to life her Eve®™ doll instead. Naturally she infiltrates the little girl’s life to the point of landing a job with her father and helping Dad realise that life goes on and women are really sexy. All the while Eve®™ (accessories sold separately) reminds Dad that he must face his loss and start paying attention to his daughter again. To the little girl she gives renewed hope and a reminder to get some friends her own age and body size. To the lusty co-worker, she gives the gift of a slap in the face to remind him that being forward with a woman isn’t the right thing to do. And to the director, she gives the gift of a career-ending diabetes-inducing children’s film filled with values that were dated in the 1950s.
|"Zomba, tarka, ishtu, nebarim."|
Make no mistake; while this is a cheesy, schmaltzy, saccharine-soaked film of pristine cleanliness, there are no doubt going to be a scad of little girls (and some modern little boys) who will think it’s just like, super (insert: Squeal!). It’s not so bad a film, when considering the target market, but for anyone else it just gets painful. And the final minute or so is possibly the most cringe-inducing, gape-mouthed horrifying, ‘oh-no-please-don’t-let-them-be-doing-that’ moment I’ve yet witnessed in my reviewing career.
No joke. It’s horrible.
A spotless transfer from Buena Vista brings every bouncy colour and perfectly made-up face into pristine clarity for our delectation. Or nausea, depending on your age and sex.
The shadow detail being murky and blacks sitting a little flat were about the only real flaws I could find here, visually. The picture is obviously made for TV with frequent ad breaks and a minor nail-biter before each one. Otherwise the 4:3 picture looks practically perfect. This is Disney’s America.
Again everything is near perfect here regarding quality of sound. While delivered in the standard TV format of Dolby Digital stereo, this manages to be more than adequate for the proceedings within. The music has been scored by one Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and sounds effectively dark and menacing throughout. Okay, just seeing if you were keeping up. The score for this delightful romp was written by Eric Colvin and it does everything it’s supposed to. The theme song of the toy Eve®™ (now anatomically correct) is co-written by the director himself and he can’t wait to bring it out at every goddamn opportunity. Cheesus. It’s horrible. I don’t even want to buy a blow-up doll after hearing it… well, maybe just one more.
Whilst Tyra Banks is beyond hottie in anything she does, she has made films of far more cred than this horribly sweet to the point of nauseating film (nauseating like Christmas night when you are so full of sugar candy, alcohol and gravy-soaked wrapping paper that barfing seems more natural than breathing).
If you have a female pre-teen that likes ponies and dollies, this film is all you baby. If you have a 19 year-old video game addict who spends a lot of his time ‘working out’ in his bedroom with the door locked, this might appeal to him too. However, for the regular population there doesn’t seem to be a Disney’s Australia that this could appeal to. It’s fluff and nothing but.