by Frank Wilkins
What's the one basic characteristic of almost every Dr. Seuss book that has defined the joy of reading for generations of children? That's right. The silly rhymes. So why the makers of The Cat in the Hat chose to minimize the Doctor's familiar brand of poetic cadence is beyond me. It's taken a while, but I've reluctantly come around to accepting Hollywood's film adaptations of old television shows, theme-park rides and any other sacred childhood memory they can get their dirty mittens on. But to omit the rhymes from a Dr. Seuss book? What's next? Fat Albert portrayed on the big screen by Ray Romano?

In all fairness, the story is sporadically interrupted by the occasional voice-over narration that speaks in semi-Seussian rhymes to provide plot continuation. But, at one point, as the cat begins to lay down some of his lines in matching prose, he breaks character, looks into the camera, and tells the audience he isn't very good at rhyming. Did he mean to say that screenwriter Alec Berg and crew are lazy?

Many more inadequacies plague this litter box of a film that loosely follows the outline of the Dr. Seuss book but throws in its own visions, interpretations and artistic liberties. By the time the cat makes his first appearance, we learn that youngsters Sally (Dakota Fanning) the perfectionist, and Conrad (Spencer Breslin) the malcontent, are left with a narcoleptic babysitter (Amy Hill) while their loving mother (Kelly Preston) toils away at her real estate job. Quinn (Alec Baldwin) is the sleazy next-door neighbor who has the hots for the children's mother. He makes it clear that he will stop at nothing to spend more time with her, including seeing that Conrad is enrolled in military school. Fanning is fabulous in the role of the goody-two-shoes sister who spends her time organizing her days in a PDA and tattling on her rebellious brother. She steals nearly every scene she's in and out-charms the pants off of her colleagues.

Almost everything in The Cat and the Hat fails. My first disappointment came upon seeing Mike Myers as the Cat (Mike Myers). If my memory serves me right, the Cat is supposed to be a slinky, slender feline. But Universal's rendition has him pot-bellied and bumbling, kind of like a cross between W.C. Fields and Charles Nelson Reilly. Most of Meyers's jokes fall flat as he resorts to inappropriately off-color quips or blatant and obtrusive product tie-ins. Meyers' ineptitude comes not so much from his own delivery as from uninspired and inappropriate writing. Let's remember our audience here. Not only is it unnecessary, it's also tasteless to throw in "dirty (garden) hoe", "chocolate thunda," or "simulated erection" jokes in a movie aimed at children.

As the plot progresses, we learn that the Cat arrived in a big red crate with the specific instructions to never look inside. Conrad, of course, can't resist lifting the lid, which turns the house and its contents into a massive lava-lamp-like conglomeration of glowing plastic and bright colors. This scene seems out of place and a bit over-the-top for a children's movie, but I've always felt the same way about the pink elephant parade in Dumbo and who can argue with that film's success?

It's clear that director Bo Welch comes from a set-designing background. The entire city of Anville, (the significance of the name curiously wasn't made clear), including Sally and Conrad's house, is drenched with a very colorful Seuss-like palette. Houses are pink and lavender as are the townspeople's clothing and cars. But where the visuals of the movie are dead on, it's the translation of the book's fun and whimsical measure that gets overshadowed by the temptation to feature a dull and bloated Mike Myers dressed in a Halloween costume.

Frank Wilkins