MOOMINS, MOVIES, AND MEMORIES

 

My mini-menagerie of Moomins and Snorks – the little one with yellow hair is the Snork Maiden, the other three are Moomintroll (aka Moomin); the two large ones are plush figures, whereas the two small ones are connected to each other and constitute a plastic lamp that glows when plugged in or with batteries inserted (© Dr Karl Shuker)

Right from a once-young child to a now-elderly adult, I have been an abiding fan of the Moomins – those affable and very endearing long-tailed, all-white, hippo-like creatures originated by Swedish-speaking/writing Finnish artist and writer Tove Jansson (pronounced 'TOR-vay YAHN-son') during the 1940s, who share their beautiful valley in a secluded part of rural Finland with a very diverse array of (mostly) amiable but often decidedly idiosyncratic, offbeat friends and neighbours. They have featured in nine novels plus numerous comic-strips produced by Jansson down through the decades, and have made her one of the world's most successful children's authors ever.

Fairly recently, I've watched not only the first original English-language full-length animated feature film to star the Moomins but also two on-screen biopics of their creator, who lived a life deemed by various others back then to be as unorthodox and unconventional as those of her creations. So here is a trio of reviews by me of Moomins, movies, and memories.

 

 

Publicity poster for Moomins on the Riviera (© Xavier Picard/Handle Productions/Pictak Cie/Sandman Animation Studio Moomin Characyers/Nordisk Film/Gebeka Films/Vertigo Films/Lionsgate – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

MOOMINS ON THE RIVIERA

A Finnish/French production directed and co-written by Xavier Picard, and released in 2014/2015 (depending upon territory) by Nordisk Film/Gebeka Films/Vertigo Films, Moomins on the Riviera is the first original English-language animated Moomins feature film (as opposed to compilation films derived from various TV series), with a total running length of 80 minutes, and is based upon a Moomin comic-strip.

Apart from the first couple of scenes, however, featuring a ship of pirates and their escapee prisoners Mymble and Little My, which have no connection or relevance to the remainder of the film, this movie as its title suggests takes place not in the familiar setting of Moominvalley but instead on the French Riviera. For this is where the Moomin family (Moominpappa, Moominmamma, and their son Moomintroll, aka Moomin) decide to take a holiday, journeying there by boat, and accompanied by Little My, freed from the pirates' clutches, as well as by the Snork Maiden (aka Snorkmaiden), Moomintroll's Moomin-like girlfriend (although very similar to Moomins in overall form, Snorks can change colour and have hair on their head, whereas Moomins are always white, and don't have head hair).

Unexpectedly for a Moomin production, therefore, this means that other than the latter two characters, none of the Moomins' familiar, much-loved friends, neighbours, and other supporting characters – such as Sniff, Stinky, the Snork, Too-Ticky, the Hemulens, the Hattifatteners, and the Groke – make more than a brief appearance in the first couple of scenes. Even Snufkin, Moomintroll's best friend, and the principal non-Moomin/Snork character in the novels, selects to stay in the valley with the others rather than join the Moomins in their sea voyage to the Riviera. This means, therefore, that the movie's principal dramatis personae is much smaller and far less diverse than aficionados of the Moomin novels will be expecting.

It also means that the weight of the movie is carried squarely on the shoulders of the Moomins themselves, which is something of a shortcoming, for the crucial reason that in the novels it is often the other characters that provide much of the plot's impetus and comedic anarchy, with the mild, philosophical Moomins tending to play the bland, conservative, uncontroversial roles (apart from when an ever-energetic Moomintroll inadvertently causes chaos or mishaps from time to time).

Consequently, without such characters of contrast this film is a little too drawn-out (dare I even say dull, at least in parts?) for my liking, a little too laid-back (but perhaps it works better in its original comic-strip format?). Much emphasis is placed upon contrived, farcical plot devices in order to keep the storyline moving along. In particular: when the Moomins arrive on the Riviera, they are soon scooped up by the premier hotel there, The Grand, and feted as near-regal guests due to a misapprehension on the hotel's part but actively fostered by Moominpapa who passes off his family not as the mere Moomins but rather as the aristocratic DeMoomins, which leads to all manner of confusion and mayhem.

Eventually, however, Moominmamma and Moomintroll depart from The Grand and live modestly back in their boat instead, because they feel uncomfortable with the heady, hedonistic lifestyle at the hotel. Adding to Moomintroll's woes is the Snork Maiden, who makes him jealous by becoming infatuated with egotistical playboy Clark Tresco and snooty but vapid movie star Audrey Glamour.

Moominpappa, meanwhile, makes friends with an eccentric but genuinely aristocratic sculptor named Marquis Mongaga, whose principal talent appears to be the creation of numerous life-sized elephant statues that can walk, but which no-one wants – not even The Grand, when Moominpappa offers one of them to the hotel to pay for their stay there.

Ultimately, albeit unintentionally, the Moomins wear out their welcome on the Riviera, especially once their humble identities and origin are revealed, alienating them with the phoney bigoted folk there. So they decide to return home to their Finnish valley where they do fit in and are truly loved by everyone there – and this is what they do. Yet another variant on the old tried and tested but also very often true Wizard of Oz homily, there's no place like home.

Moomins on the Riviera is very sweet and beautifully animated, with exquisite pastel colours and flourishes of delicate Art Nouveauesque curls and swirls throughout. Yet in the glaring absence of their usual supporting cast, its fluffy white hippo-lookalikes struggled to sustain my interest for the full 80 minutes – and I'm a devoted Moomin fan!

For me, Jansson's nine original Moomin novels and the many Moomin comic-strips (lately collected into a monumental published compendium) produced by her and subsequently her brother Lars for newspaper syndication worldwide will forever remain unsurpassed by any on-screen treatment, even though there have been many, including several different TV series. But click here and here to view a couple of official Moomins on the Riviera trailers on YouTube and see what you think.

 

 

Publicity poster for Tove (© Zaida Bergroth/LevelK/Helsinki Filmi – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

TOVE

On 11 June 2022, my movie watch, on the UK TV channel BBC4, was Tove.

Directed by Zaida Bergroth, and released in 2020 by Helsinki Filmi, Tove is the internationally-acclaimed yet independently-produced Finnish (with English subtitles) biopic of Tove Jansson (1914-2001). She was the famous Swedish-speaking/writing Finnish author who penned one of my all-time favourite series of children's novels – the Moomin books, featuring those friendly, long-tailed, white-furred, hippo-like trolls who have wonderful adventures within and beyond their Finnish forest valley homeland.

Starring Alma Pöysti as Jansson, this movie focuses in particular upon what was deemed by some way back then to be her rather unconventional and free-spirited bisexual lifestyle, especially with female theatre producer Vivica Bandler. However, it also documents how, during the 1940s and 1950s, what would become her life-long career in writing and art slowly yet surely emerged, as she progressed gradually from being a struggling painter to becoming a highly successful comic-strip artist and author, thanks to her obsession with her Moomin sketches and manuscripts.

As a massive Moomin fan, ideally I'd have liked the movie to concentrate more upon Moomins and less on lifestyle, in order to devote additional time revealing in greater detail her inspirations for and development of these delightful, timeless characters, but there can be no doubt that her free-spirited nature was intrinsic to their creation and originality.

For almost 80 years now (the first Moomin book was published in 1945) the gentle innocence and joyful optimism of the Moomins have inspired and enchanted generations of children (and a fair few adults too), and will continue to do so for all time.

To sample the many twists and turns in Tove Jansson's very eventful and enterprising life, be sure to click here to watch an official trailer for Tove on YouTube.

 

 

Publicity still for Moominland Tales: The Life of Tove Jansson (© Eleanor Yule/BBC Scotland – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis fo educational/review purposes only)

MOOMINLAND TALES: THE LIFE OF TOVE JANSSON

On 28 September 2022, I watched on YouTube the fascinating and very moving 2012 BBC Scotland hour-long documentary Moominland Tales: The Life of Tove Jansson.

Produced and directed by Eleanor Yule, and featuring Janet Suzman as the voice of Jansson herself, this engrossing production readily complimented the biopic Tove that I'd watched a few months previously.

Whereas the latter focused upon what was back in Jansson's time her somewhat unorthodox social life, however, this TV documentary concentrated primarily upon her prolific output of work – from her fine art and her adult writings, to, above all else, her enchanting creation for both children and grown-ups alike of the marvellous Moomins, in both book form and comic strip. It also featured the interesting memories recalled by a wide selection of her friends, surviving family, biographers, and associates who worked with her during her life.

In particular, I was intrigued to discover how closely the lives and mannerisms of the Moomins emulated those of Jansson's own family members, the latter having inspired many of her most beloved characters from the series. Also, to my surprise I discovered that there were not eight Moomin novels, as I'd always supposed and read as a child, but nine, but with the very first one, The Moomins and the Great Flood, not having been translated into English until as recently as 2005, many decades after all the others had been. Yet why had it not been translated earlier, especially as it was the first book in the series? No explanation was given in the documentary.

I have now purchased this highly significant and beautifully illustrated but hitherto-missing member of my Moomin novel collection, and will be reading it shortly. Moreover, once having done so, I may well re-read the other eight again, in order. No such thing as too much of a Moomin muchness!

To view Moominland Tales: The Life of Tove Jansson in its entirety – and free of charge – on YouTube like I did, please click here.

Finally: To view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

THE MOUSE AND HIS CHILD

 

The UK video version of The Mouse and His Child (© Charles Swenson/Fred Wolf/Murakami-Wolf Productions/Sanrio/DeFaria-Lockhart-Sanrio – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

A few weeks ago, I finally watched the animated movie version of one of my favourite childhood novels, Russell Hoban's delightful 1967 fantasy, The Mouse and His Child.

Directed by Charles Swenson and Fred Wolf, and released in 1977 by the Japanese company Sanrio, The Mouse and His Child stays fairly faithful throughout to its literary original, perhaps a little too faithful, in fact, as I'll explain shortly.

As in the novel, the movie focuses upon a clockwork toy consisting of a father mouse and his child with hands connected who dance together when wound up. At the movie's beginning, they are housed safely inside a cozy toyshop, waiting to be purchased alongside many other toys there, as Christmas grows very near, but inadvertently they find themselves abandoned upon the snowy street outside.

They are initially rescued by a kindly tramp (voiced by John Carradine) before being seized by an evil rat named Manny (Peter Ustinov), who enslaves clockwork toys to do his every bidding, and callously breaks up any that fail to meet his requirements. Thanks to a prophecy-spouting frog (Andy Devine), however, the mouse and his child succeed in escaping the rat's clutches, but he pursues them unrelentingly as they engage upon a series of exciting adventures, meeting all manner of distinctive creatures in their quest to become self-winding toys. Other famous names in this movie's voice cast include Sally Kellerman as a seal and Cloris Leachman as Euterpe the parrot.

In the original novel, Hoban's characters are given to all manner of philosophizing, often at length, which is why, famously, this book is as popular among adults as it is among children. That same tendency is reiterated in this film version, but unfortunately with far less success.

For whereas a book by its very nature is primarily verbal in format, an animated movie (or any other kind, for that matter) is primarily visual, and in this particular movie the philosophizing comes across as being not so much verbal as verbose, slowing down the action on an all-too-frequent basis. Unlike the novel, moreover, this movie version of it is aimed fair and square at children, so the philosophizing is likely not only to go completely over the heads of much of its intended audience but also to bore them rigid.

To be frank, even I found it tedious and heavy-going at times, despite my having enjoyed it all those years ago when reading the novel. Sometimes the written word simply does not translate well on screen, and this movie, sadly, is definitely a prime example of that. It is nothing if not intriguing, therefore, that Hoban is said to have disliked how, in his opinion, the novel's philosophizing was watered down in the movie! More watering, less wording, is what I say!

The animation is of a very basic nature – Disneyesque, it ain't – but nonetheless is serviceable for a movie that has a quaint, whimsical charm in spite of its prolix proclivity, so if you get the chance to view this film, do so.

Indeed, at the time of writing this review, The Mouse and His Child can be watched in its entirety free of charge on YouTube, so click here if you'd like to do so.

To view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

MR HORATIO KNIBBLES

 

Publicity photograph for Mr Horatio Knibbles (© Robert Hird/Anvil Film & Recording Group/Children's Film Foundation – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

As many of you now know, I'm always on the lookout not only for strange, little-known cryptids (mystery animals) in my longstanding career as a cryptozoological investigator and author but also for strange, little-known films in my equally longstanding enthusiasm for all matters movie-related – and on Saturday morning, 21 May 2022, I happened to discover a fascinating example of the two in one! For that was when the retro-specialising UK TV channel Talking Pictures screened an enchanting yet nowadays all-but-forgotten Children's Film Foundation-associated rarity entitled Mr Horatio Knibbles.

Directed by Robert Hird, with a screenplay by Peter Blackmore (from an original story by Wally Bosco), produced by Anvil Film & Recording Group for the Children's Film Foundation (aka CFF, a non-profit UK organization that produced or sponsored short movies for children from the late 1940s to the mid-1980s), and released in 1970 (or 1971 – sources differ), Mr Horatio Knibbles is a thoroughly delightful, whimsical fantasy movie. Its title character (played by Anthony Sheppard) happens to be an avuncular 6-ft-tall ever-hungry white rabbit (which may explain why his surname is pronounced 'Nibbles'). He is always dressed very nattily in jacket, waistcoat, watch chain, trousers, and top hat (and is therefore reminiscent of portrayals of the White Rabbit in various live-action Alice in Wonderland movies). However, he is invisible and inaudible to everyone except for a lonely young girl named Mary Bunting (Lesley Roach), who loves rabbits and desperately wants a pet one for her rapidly-approaching birthday, but is steadfastly refused by her kindly yet rabbit-averse parents (Bernard Horsfall and Jane Jordan Rogers).

After Mr Knibbles appears to a sad Mary, they have all sorts of amusing, innocent adventures together in the nearby woods where Mr Knibbles lives that cheer her up immensely, but thoroughly baffle and bemuse her disbelieving parents and in particular her somewhat bullish brother Tom (Gary Smith), who cannot see her new friend. Inevitably, therefore, they assume that Mary is either letting her imagination run riot or is telling them outright fibs.

Mary even claims that she has written to Mr Knibbles, addressing her letter to him at Rhododendron Manor, The Woods, Local, and posting it in a hollow tree log where a squirrel collects the mail each day at 3 pm sharp (provided of course that the postage has been paid for in nuts!). So her father decides to put an end to this nonsense by concealing himself near to said tree log just before 3 pm, totally confident that the highly unlikely scenario alleged by Mary will not take place – only to be thoroughly startled, however, when a squirrel does indeed appear, pulls out a letter from the log, and passes it to a bird who flies off with it!

Mary's birthday arrives, and she invites Mr Knibbles to her party. Due, however, in no small way by a small girl named Nancy (Rachel Brennock) who is Mary's somewhat hysterical friend, given to unnerving ear-piercing shrieking like a banshee at the slightest provocation (and especially so after Mr Knibbles agrees to become visible for her as well as Mary), he decides to take shelter for a while inside an empty water barrel, where he goes to sleep – only for the water barrel to be sealed and taken away as it had been leaking. Mary and her friend finally succeed in reclaiming it (assisted hilariously by PC Briggs (Fred Evans), a somewhat simple but good-hearted policeman, who is actually able to see Mr Knibbles due to his own love for rabbits), but when Mary tells her father that it contains her giant furry friend he angrily and dismissively declares that it is empty.

In despair, Mary calls out to Mr Knibbles inside the barrel, pleading with him to promise to appear to everyone present if the barrel is opened, which Mr Knibbles readily agrees to do. Although he cannot hear Mr Knibbles's words, Mary's father reluctantly decides to open it, to confirm once and for all to Mary and all of her birthday party guests there that Mr Knibbles is just a figment of her imagination – only of course for a now-visible, audible Mr Knibbles to duly if delicately extricate himself from the barrel (he is rather rotund!), amazing his human audience.

All ends well, with Mr Knibbles giving Mary a very special birthday present – a fluffy white pet rabbit (of normal size, thankfully!) – before bidding her a fond farewell for the time being, revealing that he is going off on holiday to Australia, but promising to visit her again when he returns home.

Needless to say, the premise of Mr Horatio Knibbles readily recalls Mary Chase's classic 1944 play Harvey (and to a much lesser extent Donnie Darko!) plus the three subsequent movies based upon it (the most famous of which is the first one, starring James Stewart and released in 1950). By being aimed at children, however, and produced over 50 years ago, it is much more light-hearted, gentle, and thoroughly endearing, yet without being cloy or twee (it is also a visual treat, filmed in vibrant colours and beautiful settings).

Indeed, for some years after its release in 1971, Mr Horatio Knibbles proved very popular with children of all ages (not to mention, I strongly suspect, a fair few adults too!), and was often shown on TV here in the UK, especially at Christmas time. However, because it features generally polite, largely well-behaved, quintessentially middle-class English children, and is set in the kind of idyllic early 1970s rural England that probably never truly existed except in movies like this one, it may well be deemed dated and even un-PC by various modern-day factions nowadays, thereby explaining why such a lovely little movie (only an hour long) has unjustly sunk into almost total obscurity.

Consequently, although quite some time ago I'd watched a few excerpts from it on YouTube, I never expected to view Mr Horatio Knibbles in its entirety, so I was very pleased indeed to catch it a couple of days ago on Talking Pictures, where I hope that it will be regularly repeated hereafter. After going AWOL from terrestrial TV for far too long, it is high time that this magical film's long-eared, mangelwurzel-munching star is introduced to new and future generations of youngsters – given such an opportunity, they will, I'm sure, be just as enthralled by Mr Knibbles as their parents and grandparents were, all those many years ago.

If you'd like to view some excerpts from Mr Horatio Knibbles currently present on YouTube, be sure to click here to view its opening scene, here to view its closing scene, plus here, and here. Moreover, it is now available to purchase in DVD format as part of a CFF nine-movie bumper DVD box set released by the British Film Institute (BFI).

To view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.

 

A scene from Mr Horatio Knibbles in which he appears (invisibly except to Mary) with Tom (in tan-coloued jumper) and his friends, plus Mary alongside him and her mother sitting on a bench in the background watching them (© Robert Hird/Anvil Film & Recording Group/Children's Film Foundation – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

 

DOUGAL AND THE BLUE CAT

 

Publicity poster for Dougal and the Blue Cat (© Serge Danot/Goodtimes Enterprises/Danot Films/AP Films/Valoria Films/EMI Films/Second Sight Films – reproduced here on a strictly non-commercial Fair Use basis for educational/review purposes only)

There are certain so-called kids' movies out there that in my opinion seem anything but typical kids' fare. One such movie is The 5,000 Fingers of Dr T, written by none other than the genial Cat in the Hat's creator Dr Seuss (i.e. Theodor Seuss Geisel), which after watching again recently I reviewed here on Shuker In MovieLand. Another, which I shall be reviewing right now, is this one – Dougal and the Blue Cat, a distinctly strange and in parts surprisingly dark, creepy children's animated musical fantasy film released in its English-language version by EMI Films in 1972 (and in its original French version, Pollux et le Chat Bleu, by Valoria Films in 1970).

Conceived and directed by famous French animator Serge Danot, who also wrote its screenplay, Dougal and the Blue Cat features all of the favourite characters from The Magic Roundabout, the much-loved stop-motion children's TV show that began during the 1960s and was based upon Danot's original French version, Le Manège Enchanté. However, both in the latter and in the movie's French version, their names differ from those in the English equivalents.

Thus, in the Magic Garden, Dougal the dog is Pollux, Brian the snail is Ambroise, Dylan the rabbit is Flappy, Ermintrude the cow is Azalée, Mr Rusty the magic roundabout's owner is Père Pivoine, Mr McHenry the tricycle-riding gardener is Bonhomme Jouvence, Zebedee the unboxed magical jack-in-the-box is Zébulon, and Florence the little girl who visits the Magic Garden is Margote. Interestingly, three additional children who frequently visited the Garden with Florence in early episodes of the TV show also feature (albeit only briefly) in this movie – Rosalie, Basil, and Paul. How many of you still remember them?

Also, it is of course a well-known facet of The Magic Roundabout lore that Eric Thompson (father of actress Emma) who narrated the English versions of the show, as well as that of the movie (the French version of the movie has no narrator), never translated any of the original French scripts. Instead, he simply watched the shows, and the movie, and then made up his own stories, based entirely upon his visual interpretations of what was happening in them. This is why they differ so greatly from the French originals.

Returning to Dougal and the Blue Cat, its surreal storyline centres upon a mysterious, magical, and megalomaniacal Voice (in the English version enunciated with the seductive, fruitiest of tones by the incomparable Fenella Fielding), ensconced within a fortified castle that was once a disused factory (more about which later!) inside the Magic Garden. This disembodied Voice (aka the Blue Queen, or Madame Blue in the French version) has such an obsession with the colour blue ("Blue is beautiful, blue is best!") that she plans not only to enslave anyone or anything who is not blue, but also to eliminate all other colours from the face of the earth – and beyond!

Putting her nefarious schemes into physical practice is an equally mysterious, magical, and megalomaniac cat called Buxton (in the English version, but not given a name in the French original), whose fur is, surprise surprise, blue. Moreover (albeit again only in the English version), he speaks with a very broad Derbyshire accent (there is a town called Buxton in Derbyshire, England, so this may be why).

Buxton abruptly appears in the Magic Garden one day and swiftly succeeds in charming everyone he meets there – except, that is, for Dougal, who takes an instant dislike to him, and suspects that he is up to no good. How right Dougal is!

Before long, the Voice has made Buxton her king, and he in return has captured and imprisoned all of the Magic Garden's beloved characters in a dungeon beneath the castle – all except for Dougal, once again, on whose shaggy shoulders the fate of everyone else, not to mention all of the non-blue colours of the world, now depends. Will he succeed in his brave attempt to rescue them, or will a dastardly room piled high with his sweetest temptation, sugar lumps, prove to be his ultimate undoing?

I first saw Dougal and the Blue Cat on TV many many years ago, but although its sets are visually stunning, with more than a nod to Art Deco influences, and it contains a number of catchy songs and other musical accompaniments too (later released on an LP album), I was back then and remain today very shocked at just how sinister this movie is, in stark comparison to the joyful, whimsical, wholly enchanting, and singularly unthreatening TV show.

In particular, I am thinking of the decidedly macabre scene in which Florence & co have all been locked away by King Buxton and his minions in shackles and neck chains (honestly!) inside a dark, dank dungeon, with everyone weeping tears while Florence sings a despairingly sad song in which she wonders whether they will ever see the light of day and be free again. Happily, Dougal does ultimately rescue them all from the clutches of Buxton, and also returns to Zebedee his magic moustache that King Buxton had stolen earlier in order to prevent him from freeing them all.

Nevertheless, disquieting segments such as this one meant that Dougal and the Blue Cat apparently sent shivers through many an unsuspecting young child watching it back in the day. Just read the comments that viewers have posted beneath clips from it on YouTube!

And don't even get me started on the original French version! Let's just say that I finally got around to watching the DVD of this on Christmas Eve 2021, and was extremely startled to discover that whereas the Voice-engendered evil pervading the Magic Garden emanates from what is innocuously referred to in the English version as an abandoned treacle factory, in the French original it is identified in the English subtitles as a disused factory where whips had formerly been made with which to punish children!

This grim revelation early on in the film duly explains why the soldiers later being manufactured there on the Voice's instructions, in order to serve as Buxton's minions in carrying out the Voice's malevolent plans, all bear what I initially thought in my innocence were long plaits of hair or dreadlocks on their heads – but those aren't plaits or dreadlocks. Not at all – instead, they are thongs, because once armed with the knowledge of the disused factory's original heinous function, the soldiers can now readily be seen to be animated multi-thonged whips, just like the dreaded cat o' nine tails once utilized in corporal punishment!

Dungeons, neck chains, shackles, and whips – sounds more like an S&M nightmare than the cosy, inoffensive, happy little show that I still fondly remember from my childhood, that's for sure! Dougal and the Blue Cat is one of those cinematic oddities that is worth watching for its bizarre, idiosyncratic weirdness, but I wager that it is not what many viewers will have expected it to be.

Even so, if you'd care to experience a taste of what awaits you in the Magic Garden once it falls under the odious oppression of the villainous Buxton, please click here to view poor imprisoned Florence singing her sad tearful song in Dougal and the Blue Cat. Hankies at the ready!

And finally – true trivia time: one of esteemed UK film critic Mark Kermode's favourite movies of all time is none other than Dougal and the Blue Cat, and he provides a detailed appraisal of it in an interview included as an extra on this movie's official 2-disc Special Edition UK DVD, which contains both the French and English versions. Also, British TV satirist Charlie Brooker selected 'Florence's Sad Song' from this movie as one of his chosen music tracks on the long-running radio show 'Desert Island Discs'.

"I didn't know that," said Florence.

"Time for bed," said Zebedee.

To view a complete chronological listing of all of my Shuker In MovieLand blog's other film reviews and articles (each one instantly accessible via a direct clickable link), please click HERE, and please click HERE to view a complete fully-clickable alphabetical listing of them.