What about Wal-mart, though?

I'm the single mother of a twelve-year-old boy, so I've seen my share of kid movies. Traditional Disney movies, of course, have been politically deconstructed by every liberal with a VCR, but even the "new" animated movies I've taken my son to over the years have caused me, as a liberal mom, to wince. Pixar, Disney's once-subsidiary, promoted misogyny (complete with body parts standing in for female characters) in Toy Story (its sequel, while better politically, failed as a movie); in A Bug's Life, the message seemed to be the intrinsic value of capitalism over less hierarchical political structures; worst of all, in The Incredibles, the traditionally-defined, white nuclear family saved the world from mercenary characters with stereotypically Jewish characteristics. Only Dreamworks's animated comedy Shrek provided welcome relief to Pixar's colorfully hidden conservatism. Now, with Over the Hedge, Dreamworks once again has managed to entertain kids without alienating lefty parents. Over the Hedge comments on sprawl, junk food, greed, and privilege. It critiques a world in which some take more than they need and are willing to sacrifice those with less power in order to keep what they have.

The story's arc is reminiscent of A Bug's Life: A stranger (in this case, RJ the raccoon) joins a band of creatures to exploit their abilities, comes to love them, reveals his duplicity, expresses his feelings, and is forgiven. But this movie also contains several nods to the Greens: For example, upon discovering an SUV, RJ explains that humans need SUVs because "[we] are slowly losing [our] ability to walk." Another creature asks, "It's so big! How many humans does it carry?" And RJ answers, "Usually, one!" When the animals eat tortilla chips modeled after Doritos, RJ lists the chemical ingredients and there's an atomic-scale explosion. The film also nods to those who take issue with Bush's unilateral foreign policy. The greediest suburban property owner, upon learning of the illegality of the vermin extermination system she desires, exclaims, "I don't care if it's against the Geneva Convention! I want it!" And, unlike The Incredibles, which touted the biologically created nuclear family above all else, Over the Hedge suggests that "family" is what you make it.

This smart film isn't politically perfect, of course. The unmarried American female is demonized as a life-hating opportunist, and the only woman of color who acts as a main character in the film (Wanda Sykes) portrays a skunk with lines such as, "I look like a nest and smell like a swamp" and, "I can clear a room... that I can do." Still, compared to the character Legs in Toy Story and the "invisible" Violet in The Incredibles, the women in Over the Hedge give liberals much less about which to complain. Most troublingly, however, this movie also shared its promotional advertising with Wal-mart, the company that contributes most to sprawl and the collapse of our labor and ecosystems. I've struggled to make sense of this seeming hypocrisy, just as I've struggled to make sense of my own: I am liberal, single mother who, nonetheless, has spent hundreds upon hundreds of dollars on politically objectionable kid movies and the merchandise they've inspired.

Just a touch of agoraphobia...

It's a little bit unsettling, and I wonder at its political significance. In this most recent year of W's presidency, I have felt more and more anxious about leaving my house. I wonder, sometimes, whether my anxiety might, in part, reflect the growing xenophobic zeitgeist that has manifested itself in W's disasterous foreign policy choices. Of course I understand that my private anxieties are, in fact, reflections of my own psychic issues. On the other hand, as shown excellently by Elaine Showalter and others, private anxieties/hysteria can sometimes stem from public discourse. When I drive to work-- from my home in a liberal urban enclave into the heart of Jesusland-- I notice an incremental growth of American flags in yards and, in decal form, on the backs of automibiles, and I wonder: When one's own flag signifies an ideology rather than a nation, what's to become of those who love our country but don't subcribe to its governing ideology? My own flag has begun to frighten me, and yet I consider myself a patriot. This disconnect, as Barthes would say, between form and content is amplified beyond what I felt during any other political regime of my lifetime. Where is the revolution? If god exists, why isn't he smiting those who act so egregiously in his name?