The animated feature The Iron Giant begins with a spectacular
storm at sea, during which a Maine fisherman smashes his boat into a
100-foot-tall metal man with eyes that glow like the beams of a lighthouse.
But the robot isn't a hostile invader. He's just hungry for scrap metal,
and after a power-plant mishap he strikes up a friendship with a preteen
boy named Hogarth Hughes. The film follows the boy's attempts to hide his
enormous tin pal from a government agent who would rather destroy the beast
than learn its origin.
This plot is reminiscent of Steven Spielberg's E.T.--at least
more so than poet Ted Hughes' original children's book, which had the giant
fighting invaders from space, not the U.S. Army. But The Iron Giant
has a different purpose than either its overt or covert source material.
Director Brad Bird, a veteran of both The Simpsons and King of
the Hill, has machinery on his mind, as well as animation in all its
forms--not just the cartoon kind, but the force that animates the head and
heart.
Contraptions with limitless potential can be instilled with different
types of life. Bird initially focuses on the Iron Giant's gentle nature,
which seems to make him an ideal, uncomplicated buddy. After Hogarth and
his pet robot play hide-and-seek with their civil-servant pursuer, however,
Bird starts to look into the eyes of the giant, which can glow like a
beacon or cut like a laser. It turns out that the robot has a dark side: a
dormant but deadly arsenal given to him by some alien force.
This is what makes The Iron Giant such a great film for children
and adults alike--it operates on several levels. An hour into its 86-minute
running time, the title character almost disintegrates Hogarth after the
boy brandishes a toy gun. Only then do we realize Bird's intention to
highlight the giant's potential as a weapon. Just as important, though, is
the moment when the robot hero plays with a deer in the forest--the natural
and the mechanical both behaving like curious human infants.
Yet another scene deepens the film's thematic complexity even further:
Hogarth is teaching the robot about Earth culture (at least circa 1957,
when this story is set), and he drags out a stack of comics--chiefly
Superman and Weird Science-type pulps about evil metallic
invaders. This sets up the giant's central dilemma: Does he want to be a
clichd rampaging robot, or does he want to be like another iconic alien who
uses his powers for good? The scene also cues us to Bird's own tastes,
which show up again in the cheesy sci-fi movies that Hogarth watches, the
atomic-hysteria kitsch on the walls, and especially the animation style,
which honors Chuck Jones' angular '50s shorts and the chiaroscuro of the
Fleischer Studios Superman cartoons of the '40s.
Ultimately, The Iron Giant is about the potential within all
living creatures to choose what they want to be, and the power of cultural
influence on that choice--a theme that's not subtle, but still profound.
Especially in this filmmaker's hands. Throughout this lovely, moving film,
an instant classic, Brad Bird shows us his influences, and when he makes
his choice, it's the right one. He tells a new story about Superman,
instead of another old story about a gun.
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