Film 2020: The Peanuts Movie


I have history with Peanuts. Back then, in the Seventies when the fascination with Charles Schulz’s creation was at its highest, it seemed like everybody on the planet knew Charlie Brown and Snoopy. There were over fifty of the British paperback compilations and I had them all. For my twenty-first birthday, my presents included Peanuts Silver Jubilee, which went round the room at my party, its presence indicated by the laughter in whichever corner it had reached.

In the Eighties,my enthuusiasm started to wane. Schulz was ageing, the space allowed his strip was diminished, he was less able to build to his classic gags and themes in the rhythm of three panels instead of four, the new characters didn’t match up to the old – Eudora, Molly Volley, Spike and Olaf? No, I didn’t think so.

But once a Peanuts fan, always a Peanuts fan I reckon, especially for those of us who empathised with Charlie Brown, life’s perennial loser. You will never know how many times I’ve quoted the Valentine’s Day line to myself.

There were a total of four full-length films made of Peanuts, for American TV, at least two of which I’ve seen, one in the cinema. Enjoyable, faithful, so far as they could be, classic cel animation. They never quite looked right, for one thing because absolutely nobody but Schulz could draw Charlie Brown, Snoopy or any of the others and have them look right, and when you consider the utter simplicity of his style and their design, that is both amazing and awesome.

But they also didn’t look right because the Peanuts gang weren’t designed for animation. They only ever existed in two planes, flat figures. They have no third dimension: look at Charlie Brown, as so many have pointed out, his arms are too short to reach his head, he can’t pull his shirt on over his head, a head that only works at certain angles.

He is perfect on the page nevertheless, because Charles Schulz was a genius. And he and Snoopy are living proof of Alan Moore’s dictum that comics cannot be translated into other media because the qualities that make them work as comics are untranslatable.

And then there’s 2015’s The Peanuts Movie, known in some countries, ours included, as Charlie Brown and Snoopy The Peanuts Movie, because apparently we are not clever enough to recall the strip’s name.

By every right, notwithstanding the sheer number of archetypal Peanuts gags the film crams in, lovingly and effectively, and without any sense of stress, this film shouldn’t work. For one thing, it is CGI animation and there is distance and depth in every scene, the characters becoming three dimensional in response to a three dimensional universe.

And for another, it breaks the cardinal rule of the Peanuts universe, the one thing that cannot and must not be broken if Peanuts is to be what it is. Charlie Brown is the loser in us all. He is all the insecurities and inadequacies and disappointments of a life, summed up in one ten-year old grotesque. He can win, but only for a time and only until the bubble bursts. He is Charles Schulz’s own, never-forgettable insecurities, fears and anonymities.

That’s especially surprising coming from a film made by, belonging to and wholly controlled by the Schulz family. Son Craig had the original idea, screenwriter grandson Bryan helped his Dad work it up, and the family made sure it never left their hands and good for them.

The CGI is an astonishment. The film covers Winter to Summer, in a town that is clean and light and bright. There’s a picture perfect weightlessness to everything, a childishness to the imagery, as if the film is taking place in a dream had by the children together, an unreally beautiful home with everything they want drawn together.

Into this spill the gang – Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Woodstock, Lucy, Linus, Schroder, Sally, Peppermint Patty, Marcie and those forgotten early stalwarts, Violet, Patty, Sherman, Franklin, Frieda and Pigpen – and oh my word but the animation is unbelievable! The characters do become three-dimensional, gaining a roundness and a solidity alien to Schulz’s vision, yet believable and, most important of all, recognisable. They are a world away from Schulz’s scratchy lines yet there’s never a moment when they seem less than the actual gang.

And somehow, in a way I can’t understand, these 3D collection of pixels manage to maintain their flatness, their visual one-dimensionality. You see them both ways, simultaneously. It’s astonishing.

The film is built around a single story arc and inevitably it’s about the little red-haired girl. The film begins with her arrival in town, moving in across the street from Charlie Brown, assigned to the same class at school. Charlie falls for her on the spot, and within the film it’s understandable (especially in one who’s a sucker for red hair). That’s the first heresy: though she’s most often seen from behind, or her face is mostly only visible in brief glimpses, the little red-haired girl is fully part of the same world as Good Ol’ Charlie Brown.

And even as he’s being as Charlie Brown as you could wish, he’s also trying to make himself over, to make her just notice him and realise he exists. But everything he does backfires. He practices up a slick magic act for the talent show but sacrifices his slot to rescue his little sister’s act when it’s on the point of a humiliating disaster. He achieves the first ever perfect score on a test, is feted and bigged up, growing in popularity in leaps and bounds, but throws it all away when he discovers the paper to be Peppermint Patty’s, not his.

Bryan Schulz is the most responsible however for leading the film away from his grandfather’s vision. he wanted the film to be about persistance, about the kid who never gave up, an inspiration to its young audience instead of a reassurance to them that they were understood. it’s what Charlie Brown does in the strip, but it’s elevated to a principle here. We’re walking towards, be prepared, people, a happy ending.

But let’s not forget the other half of this double-act, the unintended hero, the unexpected star, the random element of fantasy and pretence, Snoopy. The late Bill Melendez, who supplied the sounds that represented Snoopy andWoodstock in the other films, was cut into this movie to once again ‘be’ the unlikely pair, a genuinely touching notion. Like Schulz himself, Melendez was irreplacable and it made lovely sense not to even try.

Snoopy, of course, what else, is acting out the book he’s typing – no, not It was a Dark and Stormy Night – about his adventures as a World War 1 pilot, engaged in dogfights against the Red Baron. Like Snoopy himself, these sequences are a leftfield interruption into the film, a la Andy newman’s solo in “Something in the Air”, even more so from the brief glimpses behind the cinematic curtain to what Snoopy is acting out in the world of the kids.

But ultimately we cannot avoid that happy ending, alien though it is. People used to ask Schulz whether he had drawn, to hold back until the end, one valedictory strip where Charlie Brown at last kicks the ball, but he never did, because a happy ending would destroy everything that had gone before by introducing a note of sentimentality too far.

It’s the last day of school. Names are being drawn for summer pen-pals. Some obvious couples, like Lucy for Schroder, are built but no-one wants to write to Charlie Brown, until the little red-haired kid does. It’s a shock, an implausibility and it’s typical of our boy that, even more than the shock and the warmth, his most intense response is to ask ‘Why?’

But she’s going away for the summer, to camp. There’s time to ask her, if he can get there quickly. To do so, another unimaginable heresy is committed: the kite-eating tree surrenders a kite, and it flies Charlie Brown there in time.

To speak to the little red-haired girl. To open his mouth in her presence without fainting. To ask ‘why?’ And to be told of everything she has admired abut him throughout all the things he’s done in this film, things that backfired to his detriment, made him look like a fool and a loser, and she has seen through all of this and recognised the true impulse, the compassion, the honesty, the eagerness to help, and she honours those good intentions. And she will write. Maybe this is the Earth-2 Peanuts

It’s dihonest, it’s cheap, it’s antithetical to everything Charles Schulz’s strip stood for, but I cannot help but love it. Whether I read it or not, Peanuts was a component of my world and I mourned its loss. A world with Charlie Brown and Snoopy in it, forever immortal, is an unsatisfactory world. It has lost one of the Pillars on which worlds stand. The film at least understood that, even as it created a wish-fulfillment to end on.

And it found one last wonderful moment, as Charlie Brown is carried shoulder-high by the gang, and everything slows and stops in a tableau that fades into black and white, into flat planes, into Charles Schulz’s drawing of his kids, and I succumb to the sentimentality. For everything that is wrong, this film is still very right. Some thing are just built into you. A round-headed kid in a yellow shirt with a zigzag stripe and the world’s most improbable looking beagle – Beeeeagle! – are two of them. Good to see you both.

The Peanuts Movie


Why does this even work at all?

I doubt very much that it’s prescribable on the NHS but as one who is currently in a bit of agony from a knackered back, I can put forward the recent Peanuts Movie as a sovereign and effective distraction for a good eighty minutes. It is a pure delight.

Let me lay my cards on the table. I am a Peanuts fan from way back, one who collected all those little UK paperbacks, over 50 of them, who fell with glee upon a new one and laughed long and hard at Charles Schulz’s jokes and themes. I even watched a couple of the old cartoon films, at least one of which I saw in the cinema, despite the fact that the characters never ever looked quite right (which was only to be expected: Charlie Brown, Snoopy, et al were only ever designed to be two dimensional, and from certain angles only. They weren’t meant to move. Besides, the animators were Schulz himself and, like anything truly simple, there was only one hand that could draw them right.

But that was way back, the Seventies, and into the Eighties, though not very far. As I’ve observed, time and again, what enthralls, amuses, absorbs at one time does not always last your life long. Many once and former favourites have left my collection, and in time this happened to Peanuts.

And though I never turned against it, I stopped laughing for a time, and then I never saw enough of it again, never sought it out to determine if I could still laugh at it.

But I still wept when Schulz died, retiring with the one hand and then leaving us the day the last strip appeared, never actually seeing his creation of genius end, the final strip seeing print only hours after he went. Fifty years of comic genius, still a man of great humility according to too many people for them all to be lying, a success beyond all measure but still acquainted with humiliation, frustration, disappointment and cruelty, as Peanuts demonstrated until the very end.

The film? I’m sorry, but I loved it, even if the briefly happy ending was a betrayal of everything Charlie Brown stood for. I have no critical faculties when it comes to this film, I was just open to it from the very first moment. It felt right, it felt good, it felt silly and easy and comfortable and it was true to those kids who never grew up because they were already grown.

Unlike the old cartoons, this movie was made by computer animation, creating characters who truly did exist in three dimensions. It ought to have not worked, it should have been a complete failure, but that wasn’t so. Everybody looked the way they should look, down to the least pixel, an impossible translation made instantly convincing, and whoever thought of making eyes and mouth and expression chase across these rounded canvasses in two-dimensional cartoon-style was a genius of the first water, because it was unbelievably right.

Or maybe it’s just me, as the Distractions sang in ‘Time Goes By So Slow’, stuck inside a dream. I was away for a while, inside something that doesn’t exist, couldn’t possibly exist but which I still remembered so faithfully from when I used to spend a lot of time. Knackered backs cant compete with such things, the pain was not where I was.

Does anyone have any of those books I can still borrow? A fourth dimensional bookcase to which I can add the Fantagraphics’ Complete Peanuts in twenty five comprehensive Volumes? Please? Pretty please? With sugar on…

Mutts – a Touching Tribute


I don’t know how many of you are aware of the US daily cartoon strip, Mutts, written and drawn by Patrick McDonnell?
On the surface, it’s a simple cat and dog strip, centred upon Earl (a dog) and Mooch (a cat) living next door to each other: Earl with Ozzie, Mooch with Millie and Frank. The strip is animal oriented, with more animal supporting characters than human, and McDonnell is a passionate believer in animal welfare and environmentalism who uses his strip to advocate these themes.
Mutts has been around for the best part of twenty years. It had the great fortune to make its debut just as Bill Watterson’s Calvin & Hobbes was withdrawing: the two strips are radically different in style and theme, but Mutts was perfect for those readers who wanted a strip possessing a unique, offbeat humour, beautifully stylised minimalist art and an almost impossible amount of charm.
The first Mutts collection, gathering the first year of the strip, had a foreword by none other than Charles Schulz, creator of Peanuts, who praised McDonnell for Earl, calling him ‘an absolutely perfect little cartoon dog’. From the creator of Snoopy, those are high words.
I don’t know if Mutts is reprinted in the UK anywhere: I get my daily dose by e-mail, sent free from the Mutts website every day. This week’s strips have had a magical undertheme, in the run-up to Hallowe’en. Mooch, in his guise as the Great Proshpero, performs a magic trick, causing not just himself and Earl but the entire last panel on Tuesday to disappear!
The following day was a beautiful example of using the comic strip format: two entirely black panels, the third a balloon with the single word ‘Oops.’ On Thursday, the still invisible Earl asks Mooch to use his cat magic to bring them back: Mooch is happy to do so but asks ‘Can you see mu magic wand.’
So to today, which is Hallowe’en. For years, decades in fact, Charles Schulz would use this time of year to gentily satirise his own religion. Each Hallowe’en would find Linus van Pelt in the pumpkin patch, faithfully yet hopelessly waiting for the ‘Great Pumpkin’ to rise. And Mooch’s cat magic brings back one startled cat and dog in today’s final panel – in the pumpkin patch, with a perfectly Schulz Linus, still waiting all these years after Schulz passed on.
It was hilarious and touching: McDonnell is a daily treasure.

14-10-31