Christo­pher Robin

It’s a sil­ly old world, isn’t it? Rain, traf­fic, cap­i­tal­ism — life can feel a strug­gle at times, and being an adult is a bit of a both­er. Maybe it’s bet­ter to just rem­i­nisce over the joy of bet­ter days and nicer sto­ries, instead of try­ing to fix what we have right now. That’s what Christo­pher Robin is doing any­way, and thank good­ness he’s got the right bear to help.

In Disney’s Christo­pher Robin, AA Milne’s char­ac­ters from the Hun­dred Acre Wood come to life to save their friend (named after Milne’s own son), in the mid­dle of a cloudy midlife cri­sis. Work­ing-class Christo­pher Robin (Ewan McGre­gor) is employed at a lux­u­ry lug­gage com­pa­ny, drift­ing fur­ther away from his wife Eve­lyn (Hay­ley Atwell) and daugh­ter Made­line (Bronte Carmichael) by the day. When his child­hood ted­dy bear Win­nie-the-Pooh (now inex­plic­a­bly walk­ing and talk­ing) los­es his friends and finds him­self in Lon­don, Christo­pher must remem­ber what mat­ters the most, by play­ing with his toys one more time.

“I want­ed to escape from fame and from ​‘Christo­pher Robin’”, a grown-up Milne said of his father’s sto­ries and the char­ac­ter his name became. This isn’t the Christo­pher Robin of Marc Forster’s film, the real-life boy who dis­liked his birth name, mar­ried his cousin, opened a book­shop in Dart­mouth and had a daugh­ter with cere­bral pal­sy. No, this Christo­pher Robin is a timid man, unhap­py with his mun­dane life but hard­ly resent­ful of his old friends. Even though you know the char­ac­ters this isn’t a biopic but a new sto­ry with a great big heart.

The script, penned by Alex Ross Per­ry with Spot­light​’s Tom McCarthy and Ali­son Schroed­er from Hid­den Fig­ures, is adven­tur­ous and exhaust­ing in a good way. Over­stuffed with ideas and brim­ming with ener­gy, this sto­ry is work­ing over­time to try and make your heart burst. It’s like a birth­day par­ty with friends you haven’t seen for years – there’s tons to talk about and so much cake to eat that you’d almost end up with a headache from hav­ing too much fun.

A sto­ry­book spine seems to imbue the plot with manip­u­la­tive nos­tal­gia at first, but the film bounces back with wit and great con­fi­dence. Occa­sion­al­ly chal­leng­ing both class and gen­der prej­u­dice, it’s sur­pris­ing how unashamed­ly right­eous the dia­logue is. ​“Peo­ple don’t like things that are dif­fer­ent,” Christo­pher tells Pooh. Where Milne was warm, Per­ry is woke.

While the man may have giv­en his name, this isn’t actu­al­ly a film about Christo­pher Robin. Mag­ic moves through the each scene, giv­ing colour to what could have been a drea­ry rehash of a beloved world, thanks to the crea­tures who have always lived there. Jim Cum­mings voic­es Pooh with ten­der affec­tion that melts scep­ti­cism and reignites a sense of loy­al­ty for a beloved old friend.

Pooh, Piglet and the oth­ers have a new­found free­dom in their per­for­mances which react to love and crum­ble under sad­ness with great vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty. Kids can fid­get and adults might yawn at some of the messier, ambi­tious moments of cross-city shenani­gans with very lit­tle stakes – but by reviv­ing the sto­ry with those who tru­ly cher­ish it, Pooh and friends glee­ful­ly over­come any sort of reboot fatigue, only spilling a lit­tle hon­ey in the process.