Movie Review: The Fantasic Mr. Fox

Most anthropomorphic animal stories are really about people. The conventional argument says that children find animals easier to relate to as characters. because they’re simpler than human beings, have clearer motivations, and more intuitively suggest archetypes. This is true of many animal characters created specifically for children, like The Cat In The Hat, and it’s also true of most animal characters created for adults, such as the politically-minded rabbits in Watership Down, or the bourgeois pigs in Animal Farm. None of those animals are meant to be taken seriously as animals. All of their animal characteristics are meant to evoke human characteristics. Any reader who asks seriously why The Cat doesn’t walk on all fours, or how Napoleon the pig is able to speak, is in for a condescending conversation from a well-intentioned friend.

The best thing about The Fantastic Mr. Fox is that it’s different, and from this difference derives nearly everything that’s good about the movie. Mr. Fox, who is, in fact, a fox, walks upright, wears suits, understands that he’s mortal, and openly refers to his own ability to speak English. He also attacks his food when he eats it (even if it’s just a pile of toast), snarls incoherently when he’s angry, and escapes from pursuers by tunneling through dirt at amazing speeds. He’s highly introspective, contemplating aloud the meaning of his life and relationships. And he’s also committed to stealing chickens, because that is what foxes do.

In short, the central conflict of the movie is Mr. Fox’s internal conflict between his human side and his animal side, the Mister and the Fox. Initially, the Foxes live underground, but Mr. Fox is ambitious. He wants to live in a tree, where he and his family will have a view. “Foxes live underground for a reason,” warns Mrs. Fox. And she’s right. The reason is that foxes are unable to restrain themselves from terrorizing farmers, and they need a place to hide after they do it. Mr. Fox’s treehouse has a view just like he wanted, and it’s a view of three nearby farms, run by the meanest, most vindictive, most fox-hating men imaginable. And yet, these men seem to be willing to leave Mr. Fox alone until he makes it his mission in life to steal everything they have and drive them insane. The farmers retaliate with force, driving the Foxes back underground, now much deeper than before, and threatening to wipe out the entire local ecosystem just to make sure Mr. Fox is dead.

The unasked question in this animal story is: Why does Mr. Fox do this to himself? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in the hole to begin with? And, if it was so important to him to live above ground like a human, then why couldn’t he accept that part of the deal was that he wouldn’t terrorize any more farmers? (He doesn’t need to. He has a respectable job as a newspaper columnist.)

Mr. Fox is a person, and he is also an animal. He lives in constant tension between those two states of being. And it is this very characteristic, this intellectual anxiety over how to deal with one’s primal nature, that is meant to be understood as the human condition. As we watch Mr. Fox, furry, precisely articulated, elegantly dressed, and voiced by George Clooney, we are meant to be constantly agitated by the question: What is he?

In a poignant moment, when things are at their worst, Mrs. Fox confronts her husband over the trouble he’s brought his family and community. “This story is so predictable,” she says. “Then how does it end?” asks Mr. Fox. And she answers: “We all die. Unless you change.”

And yet, I’m not really spoiling the movie for you by revealing that neither of these events comes to pass. Mr. Fox does not suppress his innate urge to steal from farmers (becoming more Mister), nor does he accept that his natural state is to stay in the shadows, stealing the occasional chicken to survive (becoming more Fox). What happens is that he becomes Fantastic. Mr. Fox harnesses the unique talents of his fellow underground animals, comes up with a sophisticated plan, and then launches the farm raid to end all farm raids. It’s a feat that no real fox could possibly pull off. It’s also a feat that no human being would ever be motivated to attempt.

The Fantastic Mr. Fox grows by reconciling his human nature with his animal nature. Here, finally, is a story that really is best told with anthropomorphic creatures of the wild. It might even be argued that there is no other way to tell it.

The animation and the music and all that other stuff are pretty good, too.