It’s a covenant between Hollywood and its audience, these days, that all kids’ movies should also appeal to the adults who’ve been dragged along by their children.
As a parental cinema-goer, I’ve come to expect a mixed bag when I take my daughter to the cinema. I’ve been to see the excellent Strange Magic and the psychedelic but charming Trolls. More recently, I’ve watched the brain-meltingly boring Hotel Transylvania 3: Summer Vacation as well as Incredibles 2. I’d had such high hopes for The Incredibles sequel, but was disappointed by it—the focus on Mr. Incredible as the stay-at-home parent while Elastigirl went out to save the world was refreshing, but the rest of the movie plodded along with only the character of Edna Mode being as engaging second time around.
If I’m honest, I was expecting The Grinch to be similarly disappointing. I figured it would be, at best, predictable; at worst, a cringeworthy rehash of the adaptations that had gone before. But it’s neither of these things. This latest adaptation of Dr. Seuss’s classic story is sweet, funny, and offers up subtle moral lessons about the glaring consumerism of the festive season.
