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When I was a kid discovering music, I would pinch my father's CDs that I liked the most. My father listened to a lot of jazz and classical music, so that was where I started. Henry Mancini made an impression on me. I loved "Baby Elephant Walk" and "Pink Panther". There was another song on the same album called "Main Title from The Great Mouse Detective".
Being a child, and therefore prone to come up with my own definitions for things, I thought it cool that a composer my father liked had written a piece of music about an imaginary mouse detective. I thought it was just an idea that had occurred to Mancini one day; "Suppose there was this detective, but he was a mouse... I think his life would sound like this..." After all, he'd written music about baby elephants and pink panthers, so for me it wasn't much of a stretch. I loved the piece of music and was satisfied with my explanation for it.
Years later, I discovered the film Basil, The Great Mouse Detective at the video store. It had animals in it, so of course I hired it. When the opening credits started and the theme played, I froze. I knew that music! I scrabbled through my CDs to confirm that I was right, and sure enough, there it was on the track listing. I'd been listening to it for years and never learned that it was the theme music for a Disney film before that day that I'd hired it on a whim.
After I'd watched the film, I pulled out my CD and listened carefully to the title music several times. I heard it so differently having seen the film. I could picture the characters and their world. The piece seemed more emotive to me, knowing what it was created for. This was a piece that was part of my discovery of music. It wasn't something that I was told was good, it was a piece that I decided myself that I liked. I had made that choice independent of outside influence. I had listened to that album so many times growing up, I knew every little nuance of every track. And then, out of the blue, completely unwittingly, I'd discovered a whole new meaning to a piece that I thought I knew so well. It was an amazing experience to listen to a piece of music that I knew intimately, and hear it as though I was listening to it for the first time. Because it gave me that feeling, this film will always be special to me.
Final Thought: Hooray for mice with Scottish accents.
Up Next: Batman Begins (2005)
When I was in primary school, my mother would take me to a local library on the way home from school. It was a modest library, but with beautiful grounds overlooking the water, soft manicured lawns for skipping around in bare feet, ponds, fish, dragonflies, weeping willows and a sundial that fascinated me due to its being placed in the shade and therefore completely lacking in functionality. The slope of the library's location meant that it spread over two levels. The upper level was the main, adult library, and the lower level, to my delight, was purely for kids and completely separate from the (what I then considered to be) boring, adult section.
So I would roam the children's library without complaint, choosing books to add to my regular rotation for reading. If a book became a favourite, it would be borrowed pretty much whenever I had the opportunity, and at times I would take it as a personal affront if someone else had the nerve to borrow it before me.
My criteria for being interested enough to read a book for the first time was pretty simple: if there was an animal on the cover, I was likely to be interested. That is how I found "The Sheep-Pig" by Dick King-Smith. I can still remember picking it up and reading the blurb on the back for the first time. I was particularly drawn to this one as it mentioned sheep dog trials, and it quickly became one of my regular reads.
Having grown up with the book, I was naturally intrigued but tentative when I heard a film was being made. I felt protective of the narrative, and the fact that they'd changed the title did not sit well with me. If they were going to change that, for no reason that I could tell, what else would they change? As it turned out, the sheep password, which I had memorised from the book (Just in case. I hoped one day to be able to talk to animals like Doctor Doolittle), was also completely wrong. Unfortunately I can no long remember what the original was, but I still maintain my outrage from my childhood over that one.
Despite my hesitancy, this film is a pleasure. James Cromwell is perfect. So absolutely perfect, it makes me joyful. I quickly forgave the changes mentioned above, and reveled in the other little touches throughout the film (Singing field mice!). It's a beautiful, simple film and it will never lose its charm.
Final Thought: Were the opportunity ever to arise, I would snap up a chance to work with the animal trainers for this movie. It's really quite amazing what they did. Hint hint, Universe.
Up Next: Back To The Future (1985)
