Bringing Mowgli out of the jungle for children

By Laksmi Pamuntjak-Djohan

JAKARTA (JP): Rudyard Kipling has been praised, criticized and branded as a great many things. Intellectuals such as Edward Said have accused his depiction of the "white man" as the very notion Orientalism thrives on. Yet to many of us, he is simply the man who gave us Mowgli, one of the best-loved cartoon characters of all time.

Of course, Rudyard Kipling's The Second Jungle Book: Mowgli and Baloo has very little to do with Kipling himself. Its two predecessors, a 1967 animated film and a 1994 live-action film titled Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book, owe more of their successes to the giant entertainment machinery that is Disney. Thanks to Disney, Mowgli has been immortalized in such a way that makes it more appealing to children all over the world.

Given the success of the 1994 version, which featured a somewhat romanticized Mowgli as opposed to the cocky brat of the animated film, a sequel only seems a natural progression.

But The Second Jungle Book is not a sequel. It is not even by Disney, which perhaps explains it. Rather, it is a prequel by Columbia Tristar, presenting us the wonderful adventures of 10- year-old Mowgli before he turns into a hunk in a loincloth.

Eleven-year-old Jamie Williams rises to the occasion and fits into Disney's cartoon depiction of Mowgli. He has the right looks, the right size, and the perfect hair and skin color. As expected, he swings through treetops and horses around with Baloo the Bear, Bagheera the Panther, and the handsome Gray Wolves in the Indian jungle. Before long, scheming and overacting humans show up. Mowgli learns that civilization is not as great as it's made out to be.

Harrison (Bill Campbell) is pure commercialism. He is an American curator for P.T. Barnum who sees enormous potential in Mowgli as "the greatest circus attraction of the century".

Buldeo's motive is more sinister. Posing as a concerned uncle, he wants Mowgli dead so that the family fortune will fall into his hands. With a track record of over 250 villainous parts in only 10 years, Gulshan Grover is definitely the man for the role.

Karait (Dyrk Ashton) is a poorly written and preposterous character, and is only credited with rolling his dead eyes and hissing along with his slithering python Kaa.

Because this is supposed to be a children's film, caricatures are also thrown in for comic relief. Roddy McDowall is perched high on the dementia ladder as a disillusioned, aging British soldier who has "worked his way up the ranks" to become a self- styled King of the Monkeys. Some may say that he is making a travesty of his talent, but the main thing is that he elicits a lot of laughs from the audience.

Chuchundra (David Paul Francis), a colonized Indian stereotype who ends up on Mowgli's trail, also steals the show. He's silly, for sure, but kids love bumbling fat guys who hang from trees, fall on a burning fire, and say the dumbest things.

The animal shots and close-ups are wonderfully done, and some scenes (Mowgli's encounters with King Cobras and Shere Khan the tiger) are certain to frighten younger kids. The chimpanzees which inhabit the mythical Lost City are stars in their own right. Director Duncan MacLachlan's use of bright focus and natural colors may be low-tech to some, but it lends the movie a charming touch of realism.

But what may be worth highlighting is that the movie manages to expose, without appearing to explain, all the messages you'd come to expect. It is a subtlety that isn't commonly found in heavily narrated children films.

First, the perils of imperialism. Harmless as the King of the Monkeys seems, his commando approach towards his "subjects" serves as a strong analogy to British colonization of India.

Second, the law of the jungle. Mowgli's banishment by the wolves due to his friendship with Timo, an outcast, suggests that animals have more respect for their law.

Third, loyalty between friends. Unable to ignore his natural instincts, Mowgli is grateful to Timo for saving his life.

However, as cross-over sagas go, The Second Jungle Book is neither as lively or picturesque as its predecessor, nor as robustly entertaining as Indiana Jones (which is not classified as a children's film, but is hugely popular with children).

In the absence of any dramatic punch, the highlights remain with Mowgli's enactment of our own secret imagination. He showers with elephants. He frolics with huge animals. He can speak their language (roar, growl, etc.). He makes fun of adults, which is perhaps the best aspect of them all. He doesn't even seem to have to grow up, much to our chagrin.

Mowgli is more than just a jungle boy, let alone a precursor for Tarzan. He represents youth as opposed to adulthood, nature as opposed to civilization, the colonized as opposed to the colonizer. The very idea of Mowgli is beautiful and needs very little boost to sell to a value-starved audience. Or children too young to take part in the latest bumper crop of monster-disaster- alien movies.

But here comes the tragedy: what makes every aspect of the film mediocre, if not slightly disappointing, is the era it's in. These days, parents may be hard-pressed to find children-friendly live-action films minus the blood, violence, sex, drugs, alcohol and foul language. In that respect, The Second Jungle Book fits the bill perfectly.

Yet what of the kids? Chances are that children over the age of seven will find this movie tame, if not downright boring. After all, the PG-rating has allowed them to join in the thrill ride of grown-up fare, complete with its visual effects galore, slam-bang violence, shoot-outs, alien-busting operatives, man- eating monsters, rip-roaring volcanoes, walkabout T-Rexes, Gothic decay. There is basically nothing in the annals of the imagination that they haven't seen (or tried to see).

The intentions are good, the timing isn't.