Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018)
Directed by Morgan
Neville
Focus Pictures, 93
minutes, PG-13
★★★★
I was a teen when Mr.
Rogers’ Neighborhood debuted on National
Educational Television—the old name of PBS—in 1968, so I never watched the
show. (Nor, would I hasten to add, would I have gone anywhere near NET back in
my working-on-my-attitude days.) But
I think I know why the show remained a staple for children from the day it
first aired as local show in Pittsburgh in 1963, to the day Rogers finally left
his cardigan and sneakers in the closet in 2001.
As a fine new documentary on Fred Rogers (1928-2003) shows
us, one key was that what he did was delightfully old-fashioned. Rogers recognized
early on that kids were so over stimulated that their imaginations often got
stifled. Even by the standards of pre-f/x days, Mr.
Rogers’ Neighborhood was a throwback. He used ratty-looking puppets such as
Daniel Tiger, Owl, and King Friday XIII, never even tried to throw his voice,
favored obviously flimsy sets, and was so low-key that, when he had turtles
on the show, it was even money who moved slower, Rogers or his reptilian
guests.
Parents often hated the cheesy production values of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, yet the same
folks will tell you that their kids adored the show. And why not? Rogers made a
point of telling kids that his
neighborhood was make-believe—a simple act that encouraged them to use their
own minds to fill in gaps between fantasy and reality. How unlike so many of
today’s video games, Websites, toys, and entertainment formats in which outside
creators script the outcomes. In a word, Rogers took children seriously.
He also spoke their language, a vernacular that was calm,
concerned, and caring. Rogers detested violent cartoons, loud noises that
jarred children, and people who scolded and hectored. The characters on his
show—such as Lady Aberlin, Officer Clemons, Handyman Negri, Postman Newell, and
Rogers himself—were helpful and exuded “love,” the quality that Rogers believed
the only transformative force in the universe. In Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, even conflict was resolved quietly. He
literally got on the same level as children, always bending down and leaning
in. Yo-Yo Ma tells the charming tale of how his younger, nervous self was
intimidated by Fred Rogers, who addressed him on air a literal three inches
away. Who cannot smile at the idea that Yo-Yo Ma might be the only person
on the planet ever frightened by Mr. Rogers?
One of the film’s revelations is that Rogers tackled what
was happening in the world outside the make-believe world. The show's educational TV
debut came just months before Bobby Kennedy was killed, and Rogers taught kids
what the word “assassination” means—as well as how to deal with sadness. 1968
was also a year in which segregationists doused swimming black children with
pool chemicals and treated adults far worse. In a landmark act of kindness, an episode of the show featured
Mr. Rogers cooling his bare feet in a kiddies’ pool and inviting Officer
Clemmons—African American opera singer François Clemmons—to join him and sharing
the same towel. Rogers also dealt with traumas such as the Challenger tragedy and 9/11.
Some might recognize the swimming pool scene as a
reenactment of the ancient Christian rite of mutual foot washing. I say this
with all humility: One of the things that made Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood work was that Fred Rogers—an ordained Presbyterian
minister and lifelong Republican—was a man who took his faith so seriously that
he actually practiced what others merely preached. In his neighborhood, there
was no need to proselytize; actions spoke louder than words.
The documentary is filled with remembrances, testimonials,
and archival footage. A sequence with the gorilla Koko is especially touching,
as was another with Rogers chatting with a paraplegic boy, Jeff Erlanger
(1970–2007), as if he was the most important kid in the world. Interviews with Rogers’
widow Joanne poignantly remind that Mr. Rogers wasn’t a character; it was who
he was. This was echoed by show director Juniel Li. Clemmons, who grew up
mostly fatherless, came to see Rogers as a surrogate dad—once the two got over
the fact that Clemmons is gay.
Another nice thing about the documentary rests with Rogers confronting his own bias; that is, the film backs gently away from
sanctifying Rogers. When he died, some right-wing faux Christians protested his
funeral, and held aloft signs placing Rogers in hell for his embrace of
anything their small minds found distasteful. They are, of course, the immoral
equivalent of jihadists—those so blinded by their own sanctimony that they
could not see Fred Rogers for what he was: a decent human being. Someone in the
film—if memory serves it was Li—remarked that being a good person is the way
the world should work. It doesn’t,
but in times such as our own in which ego, greed, and nastiness abound, what a
refreshing thing it is to consider that goodness can prevail. Forget the lack
of glitz and sheen, who would not wish to reside in Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood?
Rob Weir
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