Good morning.
In my opinion, one of the biggest problems in the world today is that people don’t talk about the movie Babe (1995) as much as they should.
Surely, most people have seen Babe. This is a movie about a kind and inquisitive talking pig who wants to be a sheep dog. This is a movie that came out of nowhere and was nominated for an Oscar in 1996. This is a movie that went up against Braveheart at the 1996 Oscars for Best Picture—and people believed it might win!
That includes the legendary William Goldman. This is from his piece “The Nightmare Before Christmas” from November 1995. “The only ‘best picture’ of the first ten months, for me, was Babe. It was the one time I felt genuine imagination at work.” And this is an excerpt from his piece “The Big and The Hunk” from February 1996. “It was inventive from the start, original from the start—it didn’t remind me of any other movie. And it had my year’s favorite character moment—when the farmer dances. So Babe gets my vote.”
But when’s the last time you or anyone you know brought Babe up in conversation? See, you can’t think of it. And that’s a crime.
Why do I love Babe so much? Maybe because, like Goldman said, it really remains like no other movie that I can think of. The mix of childish wonder with very real, human, and adult themes—such as being brave enough to be different, being kind, being accepting of those that are different than you, facing the world with grace even when it laughs at you; the episodic, children’s book quality of the film’s structure; the performances that are both slightly cartoonish but also very real; and the overall feeling of stepping into a storybook from the very start.
This movie makes me cry every time I watch it. As I get older, I seem to cry more easily when watching movies and TV shows. Especially when I observe a character undertake a small act of kindness or empathy toward another character or when there is a scene that is focused on acceptance or when the insurmountable gap that will always exist between people is acknowledged and there is an attempt to bridge it for even a fleeting moment.
Roger Ebert’s review of Babe is also one of my favorites of his reviews (I have a million favorites from Ebert but still…). I mean just look at this. “One of the chief delights of ‘Babe,’ indeed, is that it is such a clever little pig movie. It is rated G, and yet all of the people and most of the animals in ‘Babe’ are smarter and more articulate than the characters in most of the R-rated movies I see.” Or how about this bit. “[It] is a movie made with charm and wit, and unlike some family movies it does not condescend, not for a second. It believes it is OK to use words a child might not know, and to have performances that are the best available…It knows things, and teaches lessons.” And maybe one of the best kickers ever. “Note: Do not under any circumstances confuse this movie with ‘Gordy,’ another movie about a little pig. ‘Babe’ is the one to see. ‘Babe.’ Not ‘Gordy.’”
Roger gave Babe three stars. And you know what? He gave Babe: Pig In the City (1998) four stars. He said it was even better than the original. Roger got it. May he rest in peace.
One of the major reasons I love Babe is because it introduced me to the song “If I Had Words,” which has one of the most moving melodies that I can think of. The song serves as the theme of the film and is used to iconic effect in the scene where Farmer Hoggett dances for Babe to lift his spirits. I still remember the moment I saw that scene for the first time as a ten year old and realized I was seeing something very unique in a movie. It seemed as if it was communicating some aspect of life or love for another being that I couldn’t quite grasp but understood was palpable.
The melody itself comes from a section of “Symphony No. 3 in C minor” by the French composer Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns. The piano that comes in at about 35 seconds is one of the most beautiful pieces of recorded music I can think of. It gives you the feeling of discovering something or as if a truth is being revealed right in front of you and if you pay close enough attention and open your heart and soul up enough you might learn something eternal about fate. After thirty seconds it is gone—replaced by powerful organ notes and triumphant horns lifting the melody. The world is bright and will keep coming, the mystery of fate bound up in it all. And then suddenly it is all gone. The melody has disappeared and the music moved on to something else. The holy moment disappeared.
That melody then served as the basis for the 1977 single “If I Had Words” by Scott Fitzgerald (not that guy, no F) and Yvonne Keeley. This is truly a seventies song if there ever was one. Fitzgerald sings like a muppet and the song is produced like a reggae song mixed with a church hymn. Yet, the power of the original melody can’t be destroyed by the very specific and dated production.
And somehow this melody and the subsequent song created from the melody made its way into a movie about a talking pig who wants to be a sheep dog. I absolutely love that. Plus there is a truly insane version sung by mice the runs over the credits.
But maybe I love Babe most of all because, last week, I felt terrible and drained from work. And the only thing I could think of watching to make me feel better was Babe. Maybe that says it all.