"Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat"

By David DiCerto
Catholic News Service

NEW YORK (CNS) -- A brother and sister learn that nothing cures boredom quite like a 6-foot feline with a red-and-white striped stovepipe hat and a penchant for mischief in the whimsical but off-target family comedy "Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat" (Universal).

In 1957, Theodore Geisel -- aka Dr. Seuss -- strung together 220 rhyming words and created an instant children's classic. Forty-six years later, the same, regrettably, cannot be said of director Bo Welch, whose bloated adaptation is such a visually assaulting jumble that not even the cat's three-handled, moss-covered family credenza can clean up the on-screen mess.

The basic story has remained intact. Two kids, Conrad and Sally (Spenser Breslin and Dakota Fanning), are left home alone on a rainy afternoon while their mom, Joan (Kelly Preston), is at work. The children are given strict orders to behave themselves and keep the house tidy.

An added story line about a party Joan is hosting later that evening for her neat-freak boss, Mr. Humberfloob (Sean Hayes), ups the ante for making sure that the rooms stay shipshape. Welch also felt compelled to include a narcoleptic baby sitter, Mrs. Kwan (Amy Hill), whose presence in the film, apart from some lame sight gags, serves no purpose. Perhaps in a moment of politically correct insanity, Welch feared that parents might take offense to leaving two young children unattended.

Soon after their mother's departure, the eponymous cat (played in full body fur by Mike Myers) appears with a chapeau full of fun. Within minutes the cat hangs a snoozing Mrs. Kwan in the coat closet and cajoles the children into breaking all of their mother's ordinances. Against the better judgment of the family's goldfish (also voiced by Sean Hayes), the children follow the cat's lead in turning the house upside-down.

The situation gets out of control when the cat opens a magic crate containing Thing 1 and Thing 2 (Danielle Chuchran and Brittany Oakes), a pair of androgynous gremlins with a knack for wreaking a whirlwind of havoc. In a concocted plot twist, the box also serves as a gateway to an alternative dimension. When the crate's special padlock is lost, it begins to transform the house into a surreal Seuss-scape.

Attempting to give the film a more updated feel, Welch has made Joan a single parent and saddled her with a freeloading boyfriend (Alec Baldwin), who feigns nurturing concern for the kids in order to ingratiate himself with her.

Those disappointed by Ron Howard's big-screen version of "Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas" shouldn't expect much better results this time. Both films make the mistake of trying to stretch a few dozen verses into a feature-length film. And while Howard's movie was unnecessarily content-heavy -- delving too deeply into the psychological origins of the Grinch's grinchiness -- Welch's film remains totally content-free, padding its threadbare narrative with protracted special-effects sequences which prove tedious rather than hilarious.

Welch seems to totally forget why people love Dr. Seuss in the first place -- his magical wordplay. He even commits the gravest Seussian sacrilege by having the cat admit he is no good with rhymes. And though the film's ingenious production design faithfully captures the bubblegum color palette and off-kilter look of Seuss' world, once Geisel's text is jettisoned, what is left is a guy in a cat suit doing a lame stand-up routine -- all of which is about as funny as coughing up hairballs.

As with Jim Carey's scene-chewing romp through Whoville, Mike Myers hogs the spotlight, bombarding viewers with his hyper-frenetic antics and rapid-fire zingers -- many retreads from his previous performances. For some reason Myers plays the part with a Noo Yawk nasal tone -- sounding more like the "Katz in the Hat."

For fans of Dr. Seuss' work, the film's high point comes early -- as in before the film -- during a pre-credit sequence in which the movie studio logos are cleverly animated in the style of the books and Chuck Jones' classic cartoon specials. Despite such a promising start, it's all downhill from there.

Anyone interested in introducing their children to this wonderful tale would be advised to rent the far superior 1971 half-hour TV version -- none of this film's forgettable tunes can touch the inspired genius of "Calculatus Eliminatus." Better yet, read them the book. In fact, a verse found on Page Two reads like a Seussian review of this movie:

"So all we could do was to sit, sit, sit, sit.

"And we did not like it, not one little bit."

Due to cartoon violence, minimal mildly crude language and innuendo, the USCCB Office for Film & Broadcasting classification is A-II -- adults and adolescents. The Motion Picture Association of America rating is PG -- parental guidance suggested.

* DiCerto is on the staff of the Office for Film & Broadcasting of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.