Christopher Robin - A Paragon of Clean Writing
This week I watched Christopher Robin. I wanted to see it earlier, but was impeded by work, social, and movie pass restrictions… The movie was overall enjoyable. It had a simple enough message that felt more geared toward the parents rather than the children. The comedy was delightful, and the CGI, while a tad uncanny, still did a good job at bringing these characters to life. But what most impressed me about the film was how clean the writing was.
Now, clean has many connotations. In one sense, Christopher Robin was clean because of the G-Rating and the child demographic. This is not my meaning. When I say Christopher Robin was clean, I mean that the writing was intent-driven. Christopher Robin has a clear moral; That adulthood and childhood must coexist. That growing up means responsibility, but it doesn’t mean giving up on having fun. Work and life must coexist. We must balance our responsibilities and our free time. It is a theme that flies over younger children’s heads but resonates with the older audience members. Every aspect of the film, from Christopher Robin’s job to his relationship with his neighbor, promotes that theme, and develops it in some manner.
Part of good writing is writing with intention. There is a principle in dramatic writing referred to as “Checkov’s gun”. Nothing included in your story should be inconsequential. If you show a gun in the first arch, someone must fire it in a later scene. Christopher Robin takes this to heart. Every character, scene, and detail add to the narrative. There is not a weak or disposable scene, or an irrelevant plot point. Everything matters. The writers knew their theme and they stuck to that. That makes clean writing.
Each character adds another facet to the moral. Christopher Robin is a man who loves his family but obsessed with his work. It consumes him. As his wife says, “You don’t smile anymore.” This is a common trope. The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins come to mind as classic examples of the “career-minded British father”. His character arc, at first, appears the same. He must learn how to play again.
His daughter is another facet. She confessed to her mother “I don’t know how (to play).” She is a child at the brink of losing her childhood without ever having one. She stands on the precipice of becoming exactly like her father, but without having ever played in the first place.
Another integral part of this narrative comes from Christopher Robin’s boss, Giles Winslow. He provides a sharp contrast of Christopher Robin. While Christopher is defined by his obsession over his work and his neglect of play, Giles Winslow is defined by his abundance of play and neglect of work.
Without Winslow, Christopher Robin would have a simple, age-old moral; That adults need to embrace their inner child and make time for play. If the narrative was that simple, Giles Winslow would be a champion of the story, a paragon of that moral. But he isn’t. The story portrays him as lazy and, ironically, childish. Giles Winslow’s inclusion makes a counterpoint: There must be a balance between work and play.
The more you investigate the movie the more details you will find. Some scenes are obviously relevant. His trips into the Hundred-Acre Wood are easy to decipher. He gets lost in a mist, falls into a pit, goes through a metaphorical death and rebirth. His old friends mistake him for a heffalump, only for him to battle a heffalump, concluding with him impaling his briefcase with a weathervane- An inner battle indeed. These make strong cases for it being a clean story, but they should. As major plot points they will reflect the moral. That is their job.
The point that displays the cleanness of the narrative best occurs before all of that. Madeline is laying in bed, and Christopher Robin enters. He tells her he won’t be going on their trip to the cottage. She is sad, but before he goes, she asks him to read her a story.
We’ve seen this play out before. Sitting in the theater I could clearly imagine the next few lines. He tells her “Maybe another time, Daddy is very busy. Maybe you can ask your mother.” And he leaves. Madeline is an unimposing child. She wouldn’t even make a fuss.
But instead, something incredible and unexpected happens.
Christopher looks at her. “Of course. Of course.” He sits down at her bed. Here they fight the archetype. He is making time for her. He is not neglectful of his family. He moves beyond the stereotype.
Then you see a special moment. Christopher Robin reaches forward, and Madeline turns around. Christopher Robin produces a large book containing the history of England. Madeline produces a slender copy of Treasure Island. Christopher doesn’t even notice. He opens the book and reads, and it is boring. Madeline is quiet. She hides the book under her pillow, without even mentioning it to her father. Then she says she’s tired. Christopher Robin looks heartbroken. He doesn’t understand why his daughter is rejecting him.
Instead of playing into the stereotype and following the easy route, the writers chose to add complexity and detail, and advance the moral. Christopher Robin wasn’t neglectful, he didn’t understand how to be what his daughter needed. Madeline didn’t just want her father’s attention and approval, she wanted to play with him, but she too doesn’t understand how to say that. Neither knows how to reach the other. There is a barrier between the adult and the child, and they both must work, or rather play, to overcome it.
Another fine detail is in how the secondary conflict is resolved. Christopher Robin’s secondary struggle involves his work. He manages a company that produces suitcases, and sales are down. He might have to let people go. This puts further stress on Christopher Robin and creates the “work” aspect of his life. He must cut costs, or bring in enough money, to keep the company alive. But when it comes time to show the proposal to his boss, he left it in the hundred-acre wood.
In a less intent-driven story he might have just had a job at a bank, or any other business-like profession. When the conclusion came around, he could have told off his boss, taken that time off that they owed him, and went on vacation to the cottage with his family.
Or Madeline could have rushed to his office and handed him the papers. They could’ve had a moment together. Then he would show his boss the proposal, save the company, and take some well-deserved time off. This would show the daughter growing up and emphasize how much he needs his family.
These would have made tolerable endings, but they wouldn’t have been half as clean. Instead, Maddie tries to get him his papers, only to lose them to the wind. He rushes to her side and tells her they weren’t at all important. That she is more important. Here, we can imagine the story ending. He leaves his job and retires to the cottage, where he makes a living some other way that lets him spend more time with his family. Instead, he finds a solution. He explains to his boss, Giles’s father. If he gave all his employees across all his businesses paid vacations, it would create a strong demand for suitcases, and an increase in profits. It would save the company. It all ties back to a line from the beginning: “Doing nothing often leads to the very best kind of something.” This ending is clean. The solution to the problem is a direct reflection of the moral; A balance between work and life. While the other endings that thwarted the work problem and favored the family, this ending finds a compromise. He connects with his family and finds a solution that can save his company. It is many times over more effective than the alternatives.
In the mid-credits scene, we see all the employees of Winslow luggage, Robin family included, vacationing at the beach. The moral is achieved. Work and life are balanced.
A clean story feeds into itself. Every moment supports the moral. Christopher Robin achieves this. Everything had its purpose, from the characters, to the conflict, to the solutions. Everything supports that moral. When so many films are bogged down with half-hearted attempts at inserting themes, it is good to see a modern tale that is so clean. Christopher Robin has a message to convey, and it is effective and intentional in how it accomplishes that. Scripturiently,
The Murder