Barnyard
I never know quite what to expect from Steve Oedekerk, the mind behind such films as the Ace Ventura series, Patch Adams, The Nutty Professor, and Bruce Almighty. His movies tend to range anywhere from high-concept comedy to low drama—so it’s no surprise, I suppose, that Barnyard is a mixed bag.
Oedekerk is very up front in admitting that the concept behind his latest film is of the highest variety: the idea that, when humans aren’t looking, barnyard animals “spring up on two legs, walk, talk, watch TV, and orchestrate outrageous practical jokes.” And that concept, long familiar from the Far Side comic strip, forms the backbone of one half of this movie.
The other half is a domestic coming-of-age dramedy about a young cow named Otis who’s more interested in gently sowing oats than he is in minding the farm. The latter activity is precisely what his father Ben is most concerned with. The old cow finds his adopted son’s irresponsibility both disrespectful and dangerous. When tragedy befalls the barnyard, it’s up to Otis to fills his pop’s shoes and save the other animals from ravenous coyotes.
Two obstacles may prevent audiences from enjoying this film. The first is that the high-concept comedic aspect of the film, while providing the bulk of the sight gags and laughs, really has virtually nothing to do with the resolution of Otis’ custodial crisis. The intersection of Oedekerk’s animal and human worlds is mere window dressing, a slight conceit that reveals the actual plot (and characters) for the shallow inventions they are—weak props for a story that might prove wildly forgettable.
The second obstacle is simply that Otis and his father are both cows—not bulls, but cows. With udders. Just like Otis’ girlfriend Daisy. Yup.
Still, audiences may still be attracted to the film’s animation, which seems pleasingly modeled on old stop-motion claymation. Audiences may also find Oedekerk’s gentle humor appealing.
They may also respond to the central message of the film: that selfless sacrifice is noble and worthy. “A strong man stands up for himself,” Ben tells Otis, “but a stronger man stands up for others.” And that’s certainly true.
But why not take that concept a step further? Why stop at drawing the boundary at the barnyard fence?
Borders always provide the definition of who’s on the inside and who’s on the outside. And while it is indeed noble to stand up for your family, your team, or your country—those on the inside— who’s standing up for those on the outside? As Jesus observed in the Sermon on the Mount, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” That is, when the chips are down, most of us are capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with those who are like ourselves. And that’s all well and good. But Jesus, on the other hand, said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
In Barnyard, it’s pleasing to see that, though Ben and Otis don’t quite go so far as loving their enemies, there’s still room on the farm for mercy. Oh, if that only seemed to be the case in the real world...
Oedekerk is very up front in admitting that the concept behind his latest film is of the highest variety: the idea that, when humans aren’t looking, barnyard animals “spring up on two legs, walk, talk, watch TV, and orchestrate outrageous practical jokes.” And that concept, long familiar from the Far Side comic strip, forms the backbone of one half of this movie.
The other half is a domestic coming-of-age dramedy about a young cow named Otis who’s more interested in gently sowing oats than he is in minding the farm. The latter activity is precisely what his father Ben is most concerned with. The old cow finds his adopted son’s irresponsibility both disrespectful and dangerous. When tragedy befalls the barnyard, it’s up to Otis to fills his pop’s shoes and save the other animals from ravenous coyotes.
Two obstacles may prevent audiences from enjoying this film. The first is that the high-concept comedic aspect of the film, while providing the bulk of the sight gags and laughs, really has virtually nothing to do with the resolution of Otis’ custodial crisis. The intersection of Oedekerk’s animal and human worlds is mere window dressing, a slight conceit that reveals the actual plot (and characters) for the shallow inventions they are—weak props for a story that might prove wildly forgettable.
The second obstacle is simply that Otis and his father are both cows—not bulls, but cows. With udders. Just like Otis’ girlfriend Daisy. Yup.
Still, audiences may still be attracted to the film’s animation, which seems pleasingly modeled on old stop-motion claymation. Audiences may also find Oedekerk’s gentle humor appealing.
They may also respond to the central message of the film: that selfless sacrifice is noble and worthy. “A strong man stands up for himself,” Ben tells Otis, “but a stronger man stands up for others.” And that’s certainly true.
But why not take that concept a step further? Why stop at drawing the boundary at the barnyard fence?
Borders always provide the definition of who’s on the inside and who’s on the outside. And while it is indeed noble to stand up for your family, your team, or your country—those on the inside— who’s standing up for those on the outside? As Jesus observed in the Sermon on the Mount, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” That is, when the chips are down, most of us are capable of standing shoulder to shoulder with those who are like ourselves. And that’s all well and good. But Jesus, on the other hand, said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”
In Barnyard, it’s pleasing to see that, though Ben and Otis don’t quite go so far as loving their enemies, there’s still room on the farm for mercy. Oh, if that only seemed to be the case in the real world...
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