Babe: George Miller's Surreal Urban Odyssey
Babe: Pig in the City is one of those films that has you come away thinking, “What in the world did I just watch?” Not in the art house, deep-in-thought, slightly confused sense, but rather in a way that leaves you overwhelmed by emotion and zany plot twists. Pig in the City is a gonzo fever dream masquerading as a children’s film, a postmodern fable about kindness, survival, and societal collapse wrapped up in the trottings of a plucky pig. If you’ve ever wondered, “What if Kafka had directed Home Alone but replaced Kevin with a talking farm animal?” — congratulations! You’re halfway to appreciating this surreal urban odyssey.
The film starts out on the idyllic farm from the original 1995 Babe, but after a bizarre Rube Goldberg-esque incident leaves Farmer Hoggett incapacitated, Mrs. Hoggett must bring Babe to a state fair in another land for a fat paycheck that will let them keep the farm.
Unfortunately, they get stranded along the way in a surreal, almost dystopian city. With majestic art deco buildings, blighted alleys, and romantic canals that wind through the city like veins in a beating heart, the setting is a kaleidoscopic monstrosity. It is at once beautiful and grotesque. Like Jackson Pollock splashed paint all over the Mona Lisa.
In this grand metropolitan set that feels straight out of a Tim Burton film, Mrs. Hoggett and Babe end up at the pig-friendly Flealands Hotel, where they are taken in by a kooky matron who could easily moonlight as a side-character in a Wes Anderson film.
From the moment Babe arrives in the city, the film operates with a beautiful, feckless kinetic logic. Every scene teeter-totters on the brink of catastrophe: Babe is abducted into a primate circus troupe led by an orangutan named Thelonius, his friend Ferdinand the Duck arrives in the city secreted by a pelican (“Go well, noble duck”), and Mrs. Hoggett is arrested after getting slimed Nickelodeon style.
Amidst all this chaos, Pig in the City never loses its emotional core. Babe, ever the optimist, remains a beacon of compassion in an urban microcosm of the world’s cruelties and kindnesses. The film is unexpectedly profound. In what feels like the emotional climax of the movie, Babe puts all of his grievances aside to rescue a vicious bull terrier dangling over the canal even though it had tried to kill him moments before.
Our little porcine hero approaches every situation with the belief that the world can be better if we’re just a little nicer to each other, and it is here that the film’s message shines through: kindness isn’t naïve, it’s radical. And that’s a bold statement for a film that also features a literal clown chimpanzee.
It’s also surprising that it comes from a film directed by George Miller, better known for the Mad Max series. But if you really look at it, Pig in the City is just like Mad Max, but with no explosions, more existential angst, and a paraplegic Jack Russell terrier whose boundless energy and squeaky wheelchair are equal parts hilarious and inspiring. Miller balances the raw — the heartbreaking eyes of the chimpanzees as they are caged and driven away by animal control — with the absurd — Mrs. Hoggett wearing ballooned pants that make her look like Bowser Jr. bungeeing off a chandelier. What a wild ride.
Is Pig in the City for everyone? Probably not. But for those willing to embrace its madness, the film is nothing short of a triumph — a messy, glorious, and bizarre triumph. As Roger Ebert wrote, “I liked Babe for all the usual reasons, but I like Babe: Pig in the City more, and not for any of the usual reasons, because here is a movie utterly bereft of usual reasons.” Ebert’s insight rings true: this potpourri of nonsensicality somehow works perfectly. And as Farmer Hoggett would say, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”