Confession: I went to see Babies last weekend while I was in Boston. My girl Amy suggested it.
Amy and me in NYC --->
We tried not to weep copiously into our popcorn bucket since we are both barren through circumstance (i.e. single or gay). Babies wasn't exactly a documentary so much as four parallel home movies without commentary other than perhaps what you're projecting on to it. I have nothing to add to the New Yorker's review which is brill. This moment David Denby singles out had us roaring:
I detected only one satirical sally: The San Francisco baby, Hattie, and her mother attend some sort of New Age group-parenting session. The mothers, raising their arms in supplication, sing a ghastly hymn to the earth, at which point Hattie heads for the door.Boy did Hattie want out of the room! Boston audiences approved.
Our other favorite shared bit in the movie was the Japanese baby Mari's absolute hissy fit whenever she so much as looked at the pieces of a peg and hole game. So so funny... a total drama queen in training. Have any of you seen it yet? It's already one of the most successful docs ever. But maybe you'll avoid it like the plague. The Boyfriend mock screamed when the trailer played in front of a movie some months ago. Dramatically placed title cards "BABIES... ARE... COMING" will sound like a threat to the child averse.
When Amy and I exited the theater we spontaneously began quoting Holly Hunter by way of Raising Arizona.
You go right back up there and get me a toddler.Holly Hunter is magic. The End.
I need a baby, Hi. They got more than they can handle.
I want that baby, Hi.