Nobody Here But Us Chickens

Houston, we have a problem. Or, more accurately: Dreamworks, we have a problem. That problem involves clay and British accents and Mel Gibson and chickens. Mostly chickens.

When David and I were in China, we visited a "DVD Market" (it was a small, smoky room on the third floor of a mall otherwise devoted to jewelry) where we thoughtfully selected some "children's" movies for our new daughter: Madagascar, The Incredibles, Babe and Chicken Run. Notice a theme here? None of these is actually very appropriate for, let's say, CHILDREN. Oh, sure, school-age children, who can have a tender heart-to-heart with Mummy about the facts of life (and death) before and after. But two-year-olds? C'mon.

Nevertheless, we were trying to distract Jarrah recently and put the aforementioned Chicken Run in the DVD player. Have you seen this movie? It's about a chicken farm in England, overseen by the evil Mrs. Tweedy, who is planning to make pies out of her birds if Ginger the head chicken doesn't save the day by teaching them to fly. They are visited by Rocky the American rooster, whom they believe to be their savior (he's played by Mel Gibson--insert your own joke here) because he flies into their coop. From the opening scenes in the dead of night wherein Ginger is trying to escape some fierce, slobbering dogs, the movie is, shall we say, dark. It's made very clear what the fate of these chickens will be, either via Mrs. Tweedy's ax or the Chicken Pie Machine.

Jarrah instantly sat up and took notice of Chicken Run. Shortly after, she became obsessed with it. "Chick-eh Ruh!" she sings when she wakes up in the morning, after her nap, upon arriving home and before going to bed. "Chick-eh Ruh!" she shouts as the chickens, literally, run from their captors, barely avoiding death. She loves to stand really, really close to the TV, gasping on cue and moaning "Oh nooooo!" when Ginger gets thrown into solitary again and again, or when a dog nearly bites her head off, or when she and Rocky are thrown into the pie machine. It's all such glorious, wholesome fun!

Meanwhile, I am quietly cringing while loading the dishwasher or folding her clothes. What kind of mother am I? My darling daughter is having her first filmic love affair and I've allowed it to happen with Chicken Run? Now, make no mistake: Chicken Run rocks. It's a great movie, and the Aardman Animation folks (also responsible for Oscar-winning Wallace and Gromit and the cheeky Creature Comforts) are wizards with clay story-telling. If I'm going to have to watch a movie straight through and then start it again, I could do worse. But will it besmirch the innocence of my two-year-old innocent flower, pure and untouched by all that is unsavory in this big, bad world?

Oh, who am I kidding? I should just be thanking my lucky stars that it's not Snow White. And that we haven't had to have "the conversation" about Chicken Fingers yet.