(This is the problem with having a graduate degree in Children's Rights: you're always hyper-conscious of the many problematic issues with well-meaning, but ultimately misguided documentaries like this. Blahhhhh.)
There's about a billion things I want to say about These Birds Walk, but I'm pretty sure none of them would even come close to describing the beauty and spirit of this woefully overlooked documentary.
Note to documentary filmmakers everywhere: this is how you make a documentary about the everyday, lived realities of marginalized children in developing countries.
(*glares disapprovingly in the direction of Girl Rising*)
Ah, summer... *BUILDING SMASH*
There's noth-*COLLAPSING TOWER*-ing like the *CAR HURLING TOWARD US* good old *ENTIRE SKYSCRAPER FLOOR WIPED OUT* Hollywood *BAD GUYS DECIMATES 7-ELEVEN* summer *MASSIVE GAS-FUELED FIRE ERUPTION* blockbuster *EXPLOSION* treatment *EVEN BIGGER EXPLOSION* to make you apprec-*FALLING BUILDING WAY TOO CLOSE TO OUR HERO'S GIRLFRIEND FOR COMFORT*-iate a fant-*FIREBALL*-astic *CAR SMASH* story *EXPLOSION* like *MINI-EXPLOSION* Super-*HERO SAVES INNOCENT BYSTANDER JUST IN TIME*-man. It's great, *HERO THROWN THROUGH THREE BUILDINGS* isn't it?
*FIERY EXPLOSION* *FLAMING INFERO* *BIG CHUNKS…
One of those rare cinematic curiosities where you can tell instantly how old someone was when they first saw the film based upon their reaction to it today.
It goes like this: almost without exception, everyone who first saw Hook as an adult will—by virtue of being a horrible grown-up—completely and utterly loathe the film and everything it represents. They will label it bloated and indulgent, and deride it as treacly Spielbergian sentimentality run amuck, as well as... *gasp*... complete…