By: Hawk Ripjaw –
I remember distinctly, years ago, my mother and sister and I were out to eat at Burger King. Those were the days when my stomach could process fast food without sounding like most of the population of the Denver Aquarium. As we sat there, my mother suggested we all see the Jim Carrey live-action Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas! I ended up enjoying it a lot, because I was quite young and I really liked Jim Carrey. That stuck with me and I still kind of admire the movie for its production design even as most of the rest of the movie wasn’t very great. Admittedly, the effort put into the Grinch’s backstory was inspired.
Three years later, a crisp copy of Dr. Seuss’ The Cat in the Hat arrived from Netflix, back when we were still a bunch of cavemen ordering discs from Netflix–discs!–and we all sat down to watch it together. There is so much hatred for The Grinch, but all of that bad blood started to boil long before the world would witness what production designer-turned director Bo Welch and Mike Myers hath wrought. And they hath wrought something far more terrible and insane than a simple Jim Carrey movie.
Most noticeably, the movie tries to take a very thin story and stretch it out. Unlike The Grinch, this doesn’t really have any extra story to tell.
Or does it?
I saw The Cat in the Hat once when I was a kid. Then I saw it last month. And then a dozen more times after that. Each time, I thought more deeply. I started to record my thoughts. When I watched it, I felt something. I felt sadness, and anger. I dug deeper into my psyche and that’s when it hit me: beyond the surface level hollowness lies a root cause, something sad and sinister, some dreadful machinations from which only the wails of the suffering can be heard. The Cat in the Hat touts something foul and evil, and I want to know what it is.
Only I can stop it.