Follow That Bird: Watching a Kid's Movie With a (Sort of) Adult Perspective

When Sesame Street Presents "Follow That Bird" orginally came out in 1985, I was ten years old, still in Sesame Street's demographic, and very much a fan. Now I'm 34 years old, but like many of my generation, I have a great affection for the Muppets. Perhaps more than most people my age, my affection goes beyond nostalgia.

Follow That Bird was made and released before the rise of Elmo, who would later go on to eclipse the entire series in his furry, annoyingly omnipresent shadow; here, he appears for only a couple of seconds, in the background. All the better. The story instead focuses on the character who was then the biggest star of the show, Big Bird, who in this film is adopted by a dodo family in Oceanview, Illinois. (Think about it.) Big Bird is talked into this unwise arrangement by an equally big bird, Miss Finch (voiced by Sally Kellerman), a social worker who thinks Big Bird would be happier living with a bird family than with the motley crew that lives on Sesame Street. Big Bird tries to fit in, but can't relate to either the Dodos' stupidity, nor their exclusionary attitude towards non-birds. The story really gets going when Big Bird decides to return to Sesame Street, and, with a childlike logic appropriate for his fictional age, mistakenly concludes that since the airplane flight from NYC to Illinois took two hours, the walk back will take three.

Soon, everybody has hit the road looking for Big Bird -- the familiar Sesame Street characters (who want to bring him home), the morally ambiguous Miss Finch (who wants to force Big Bird to return to the Dodo residence), and a pair of villainous con artists appropriately named "the Sleaze Brothers" (who want to kidnap Big Bird and make him a part of their carnival sideshow). Meanwhile, Big Bird remains mostly oblivious to all of this, as he treks across the Midwest, having mostly comical misadventures along the way, but occasionally delving into sadness, as he misses his friends and starts to wonder if he'll ever find his way home.

All of this works on multiple levels. I almost hesitate to say that, because it's an often misused cliche; I strongly suspect that when people say that a piece of art works on multiple levels, they'd be stumped if asked to mention more than one. But in the case of Follow That Bird, I think it really is true. Take Oscar the Grouch, for example. In the TV series, his grouchiness is usually presented as absurdist anti-logic; he's annoyed by things that most people rejoice in, rejoices in what most people are annoyed by, etc. Yet there has always been an element of social satire to the character, since there really are people who, like Oscar, tend to look for excuses to complain and insult.

I suspect that the social satire element of Oscar's character has rarely if ever been so well displayed as in Follow That Bird; his scene in the Grouch Cafe pokes fun at bad-service establishments that only adults can truly appreciate, and his "Grouch's Anthem" song solo, which opens the film, proudly revels in his unorthodox view of life, and defiantly encourages his fellow grouches to be true to their nature, to not be discouraged by the often shallow joys that surround them. Maybe we're supposed to be laughing at him, but I for one wanted to stand up and cheer at this song.

Then there's the more serious side of the social commentary. I was an innocent kid, so the -- now rather obvious -- anti-racism message passed right over my head back when I first watched this movie. Now, the racist nature of Miss Finch couldn't be more clear. Miss Finch is completely uninterested in Big Bird's actual happiness, or in the good or bad aspects of the people who surround him, caring only that he is surrounded by birds because, above all other priorities, a bird should live only "with his own kind" -- a subset which, based on Miss Finch's snooty attitude, she clearly regards as superior to all others. Likewise, the moronic Dodos who adopt Big Bird are equally scornful of non-birds, and outright forbid a visit from Mr. Snuffleupagus when they discover, to their disgust, that a snuffleupagus is not a bird.

There's another serious message in the movie, which is that the children in the audience should never get in a car with a stranger. Big Bird learns this lesson the hard way, as he twice gets in a stranger's truck. The first time, he meets a friendly trucker, who tries to help Big Bird, and even gives him some much-needed encouragement. The second time, however, Big Bird is kidnapped.

I'm trying to remember how I felt about this kidnapping subplot as a little kid, but my memory is too hazy. It's hard to imagine that I wasn't disturbed by it, though. Sure, kids' movies are full of bad guys with nefarious, sometimes even murderous, intentions. But despite the presence of puppet characters, this is no cartoon, this is a live-action story about a lovable character -- who in many ways serves as an audience proxy -- who ventures out of his loving, sheltered environment, into the real world, and encounters criminals who lure him into their truck and then won't let him go. That's got to be scary for little kids -- not to mention parents.

Yet despite the surprisingly serious undertones, there's a lot of fun here. The songs are especially enjoyable, from the harmonious, light-hearted "Easy Going" to Bert & Ernie's delightfully silly "Upside Down World," to the entertaining trucker anthem "Ain't No Road Too Long"; this latter song is partially performed by Outlaw Country singer Waylon Jennings, who plays a friendly trucker in this movie, and liked the tune so much that he later re-recorded it as a country single.

As for the cast and crew, Ken Kwapis is, no argument, an under-the-radar director, but his direction is surprisingly subtle for a children's film, and he knows how to milk both laughs and suspense. And the writers, more familiar with Sesame Street than with feature films, prove adept at adapting to the different medium. There is more than an element of self-parody here. From the very first few seconds, as Big Bird points to the Warner Bros. emblem and declares that "Sesame Street is brought to you by the letters W and B," to the closing credits, which the Count gleefully counts one credit at a time, the movie is filled with moments that wink at the audience, as if to say, "yes, we know some aspects of Sesame Street have become cliche, so why not have some fun with it?"

The performers deserve credit too. As Olivia, Alaina Reed delivers a beautiful, powerful musical performance with the song "One Little Star," and as Gordon, Roscoe Orman is allowed to show a range rarely exhibited on the TV series, giving us a hint that he may have had a career as a leading man if he hadn't found long-term gainful employment in children's television. Of course, it is the Muppets who take center stage, and the fact that we, as viewers, are so quick to think of the Muppets, rather than the puppeteers, as the performers, is the exact reason why the puppeteers deserve such praise.

The only disappointing performances are by Dave Thomas and Joe Flaherty as the villainous Sleaze Brothers. I hate to make that observation, since I am a fan of their work on SCTV, and it's so rare for either of them to have such a sizable role, that this opportunity should be a treat. But their performances are simply too broad here; there's something wrong when you're in a movie with a giant yellow canary and a green monster who lives in a trash can, and you're the one who lacks subtlety.

All in all, Follow That Bird is a children's movie that holds up over time, and has as much, if not more, to offer to its adult viewers. It's a delightful musical experience, a culmination of plenty of talent both behind and in front of the camera, and a nostaligic reminder of Sesame Street's pre-Elmo days.