“THE CAT IN THE HAT,” REDUX

“THE CAT IN THE HAT” is Dakota Fanning’s worst movie. Given my proclivity for negativity, I am frequently accused of hating all of Dakota’s movies. This is simply not true. I represent the pragmatic critic; I have every respect for Dakota and her movies. It is simply that Dakota succeeds in surrounding herself with idiots. Sometimes I think the poor girl doesn’t know that she is in the process of producing schlock. “THE CAT IN THE HAT” (2003) directed by Bo Welch, produced by Brian Grazer, is unequivocally Dakota Fanning’s worst movie. TCITH holds the unhallowed distinction in the pantheon of all Dakota Fanning movies as the only movie I actually dislike. It was the movie she made directly after “UPTOWN GIRLS” and was her last movie with baby teeth intact *sigh*. That notwithstanding, the movie is awful, simply awful and fails on so many levels, almost nothing of which has to do with Miss Fanning herself. Fanning does in fact turn in a fine performance in this limited shallow role. Dak has little to do but act adorable and react to the conundrum of stupidity all around her. Sally is a fastidious, well-ordered child who thrives on structure, while to outward appearances she is sweet as apple-pie, lurking beneath the surface is a personality flaw, consisting of a repress ability to play and be a normal child, and a first class tattletale and control freak. Sally represents the complete antithesis of her gregarious devil-may-care brother Conrad (Spencer Breslin). I’m sure screenwriter Alec Berg thought this juxtaposition of the two children’s personalities hilarious. Unfortunately, none of these personality traits is drawn from Seuss’ original story. The intrinsic problem is that this movie is loud, boisterous, gross and lewd. It has absolutely nothing to do with Dr. Seuss. Take for example the jumping on the couch. That seems like fun . . . if you’re a ten-year-old actress and the director tells you to jump on the couch you do your best. Insofar as jumping on the couch goes. Dakota does a fine job. The problem is not the jumping on the couch scene; the problem is the rest of the movie is crap. Mike Meirs’ labors under the misapprehension that he is funny; his performance resembles a cross between Linda Richards’ Coffee Talk meets the Cowardly Lion.

The movie ultimately fails because none of the principles involved seemed to have ever actually read Dr. Seuss’ little book. The book, (p. 1957) is a feat of skill, since it simultaneously maintains a strict triple meter, (“The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house All that cold, cold, wet day . . .”) and keeps to a slim 236-word vocabulary. The movie has absolutely none of the whimsy and charm of the book, neither does it possess Seuss’ unconventional art and rhyme . . . in fact there is precious little “Seuss” or rhyming in this movie. Instead, the writer and director substituted smutty little potty jokes, e.g. “Dirty Hoe,” or more infamously, the Cat’s “Hat erection” at the sight of the children’s mother. If you want to see Seuss done right, watch Chuck Jones’ “HOW THE GRNICH STOLE CHRISTMAS.” (1966) narrated by Boris Karloff. Jones expanded upon Seuss, he extrapolated on Seuss, but he never disrespected his source material.