Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hears a Who! (2008)

No one’s heart’s bigger, even Thidwick the Moose
And even the Lorax took less abuse.
One book can’t contain Horton’s dogged heroics!
His stoical pluck shows up all other stoics!

He wants every voice to be clearly heard
And he sticks up for those who can’t yet say a word.
Even those unhatched and forsook by their mothers
Or too small to see and denied by most others.

But the last time Who-ville came to the screen
Seuss-ian magic was not to be seen.
Jim Carrey’s Grinch was nothing to relish
And Mike Myer’s Hat Cat was no more Geisel-ish.

Could La-La Land ever give Horton his due?
A pro-life pachyderm who’s trusty and true?
And with Jim Carrey back! As Horton’s own voice!
The Grinch! Could there be a peculiarer choice?

But… what’s this? From Blue Sky? Creators of Manny
The Mammoth, Ice Age’s pachyderm nanny?
The makers of Robots? Could they get it right?
Could they pull off Horton? You know, they just might…

And they have! Their Horton’s playful and kind
Responsible, long-suffering, stout in a bind.
And, as if atoning, even Jim Carrey…
He’s not at all grinchy! He’s Horton-y! Very!

Steve Carell makes a great Mayor of Who
And Carol Burnett is the sour kangaroo.
And narrator Charles Osgood goes to town
And he has anapestic tetrameter down.

And it comes without latex! Without ribald joshing!
Without key-party games or rave-party moshing!
And it gets even better! I’m pleased to relate
That Horton’s the very best Blue Sky to date.

This isn’t the first time this tale’s been retold
And it’s grown in the telling, like fables of old.
The Chuck Jones short, written by Seuss, broke the news
That the big world beyond was unknown to the Whos.

Then in Seussical, little twerp Jo-jo made good
As the Mayor’s son, soulful but misunderstood.
They take here and there from each form of the fable
But Blue Sky’s own strengths bring a lot to the table.

All their films shine with slapstick and wit
And Rube Goldberg flair that makes Seuss a good fit.
Their stories and characters don’t always jell
But with something to work with, their work is quite swell.

They know how to use Horton’s ears and his nose
And they’ve got good ideas about all his woes.
Turns out Horton mentors the young jungle critters
And that gives that kangaroo bully the jitters.

Finding life on a speck, too tiny to see
Prompts Horton to wonder if our world might be
Just a speck in some much larger world beyond ours —
But the kangaroo sees a fool talking to flowers.

(There’s one slip, the kangaroo’s passing snipe
About how she “pouch-schools” to avoid Horton’s type.
That’s backwards for sure. That officious old grouch
Has N.E.A. written all over her pouch.)

An empirical sort, she’s no patience to spare
For what others think when she’s sure nothing’s there.
But the last straw is when the tykes start going on
About their own flowers, and the “worlds” thereupon.

Meanwhile, in Who-ville, life’s full of song.
Everyone’s cheerful and nothing goes wrong.
There are 96 girls in the Mayor’s happy brood
But Jo-jo, the boy, seems rather subdued.

With hair in his eyes and a sad little frown
He’s the first sulky kid ever born in that town.
But the Mayor, meanwhile, has got his own trouble:
Only he knows or cares what’s outside the Who-bubble.

The kidding is gentle, touched with affection
And no mean-spiritedness or rejection.
Like Horton, the film doesn’t hold any grudges.
In the end, no one’s judged and nobody judges.

But the message that comes through the clearest of all
Is: A person’s a person, no matter how small.
And it should be, it should be, it SHOULD be that way!
Horton’s own faithfulness carries the day!