Plenty of actors will talk about doing the occasional family film in order to make something that their kids might enjoy. Film-makers, meanwhile, will often specialize in the form, becoming go-to directors or screenwriters who can help crack the code for all-ages entertainment. Why, then, are there so many family films that seem to be made with only the faintest, wispiest, flimsiest familiarity with actual children?
Earlier this summer, John Krasinski’s heartfelt yet idiotic If misunderstood imaginary friends as endemic to elementary-school-aged children rather than toddlers. Now comes Harold and the Purple Crayon, an adaptation of the classic picture book by Crockett Johnson. In it, the lead child, Melvin (Benjamin Bottani), appears to be verging on middle-school age, yet still earnestly refers to an imaginary dog that he claims accompanies him everywhere. It’s supposed to be a reaction to the death of Mel’s father; as in If, it’s actually a red flag of screenwriters’ misleading ideas, quietly warped in their simplicity, about how kids deal with grief.
