With the recent address from President Matthews, aimed at reassuring us regarding government efforts to combat domestic terrorism alongside global partners, I found myself feeling more anxious rather than comforted. Each news segment brings reports of isolated attacks, planned violence, and widespread suffering. While we pride ourselves on being the land of the free and the brave, a quick survey among parents, much like a recent New York Times poll, would likely reveal that we don’t feel particularly safe or courageous right now.
In times where a simple visit to the mall or cinema involves scanning for exits in case of an active shooter, or grappling with the unsettling narratives of radicalized individuals (even new mothers praised by extremist groups), it feels as though we’ve ventured through a dark looking glass into an unexpected reality. It’s a stark reminder that we’re navigating a mental war zone.
With that in mind, I thought a trip to the movies would offer my children a chance to escape into a fantastical realm. I recently took my son to see the latest Pixar/Disney film, The Good Dinosaur. Initially rated PG, it seemed like a safe choice, especially since my son adores Frozen. The animation was stunning, and the story followed Arlo, a young dinosaur, and his human dog-like companion, Spot, a child who had lost his family.
However, as the film progressed, I was taken aback by the intense themes: the loss of a beloved parent, implications of drug-induced hallucinations from fermented fruit, predatory creatures, and the brutal realities of nature portrayed through disasters like landslides and lightning strikes. My heart sank when I realized I had made a questionable choice. Halfway through, my son was in tears, his small face crumpled behind his glasses, mourning Arlo’s loss.
What were the filmmakers thinking when they crafted such an emotionally charged film for children? While I appreciate many Disney films, I find it perplexing that they insist on opening with scenes of death, leaving young viewers in distress. A child, secure in their parent’s love, should never witness prolonged scenes of loss without proper context or a warning.
As I comforted my son, who repeatedly cried, “Daddy, he lost his daddy,” I felt a deep ache in my heart. The father’s death was not even heroic; he dies trying to teach Arlo bravery during a storm, only to reappear in a dream sequence before fading away. It’s important to note that my child is usually quite resilient. He has sat through intense scenes in Harry Potter and handled the emotional moments in Big Hero 6 and Transformers without much fuss.
If the message is that “life is tough, get used to it,” I believe that’s misguided. Children will come to understand that reality soon enough. However, movies that delve into themes of death, bullying, and violence should be regarded as unsuitable for young audiences.
I resent the feeling of being emotionally manipulated and strive to resist it, but children are particularly vulnerable. So, I implore filmmakers: please refrain from instilling fear in our children with your narratives. While I don’t mind my child showing empathy (he often tears up at commercials featuring sad dogs and asks how we can help), I vehemently oppose exposing him to harsh life realities during what is supposed to be a fun outing.
Moving forward, I plan to consult resources like Common Sense Media and Parent Previews before taking my son out for a day of entertainment. I’ll seek out films that are free from violence and trauma, such as The Peanuts Movie or Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Road Chip.
Let us agree to protect our youngest and most innocent children. In a world where school safety drills are now routine, shielding our kids from unnecessary pain and fear may be the most meaningful New Year’s resolution we can embrace.