Preview by Diamond Previews
Rather endeared to/with/by this. Many are the traps almost all fall into when they deal with the sense of abandonment which the death of a parent can bring. Diana has hurdled them all by presenting us with an unusually resilient eight-year-old called Michael. Is he living in hope or denial? I'll leave that for you to decide, but in his droopy-eared bunny-bonnet he's definitely doing far better than coping: he's playing exuberantly, living out an extensive fantasy with his constant (if imaginary ) companion, the loyal but bubble-bursting gorilla called Jam. Ordinary rooms in his house become space-ship consoles then switch back to the kitchen table as they gather sandwiches for the next day's grand expedition. Now they return to Michael's bedroom where he begins to undress for bed. Here's Jam:
"Last year your mum said it's pointless to make a trip to headquarters without Captain Big Nose... You reckon she might say that again this year?"
"That was just her excuse for laziness! Remember she spent that whole day sleeping? That's all she does nowadays... Work, sleep."
"Yesssh! I remember we spent that day eating fruit loops with sugar instead! Ahhh... That was a great day..."
"And then Mum goes berserk on you 'cos she had no sugar for her coffee. Haha!"
"That was you!"
"'Twas you! But this year we gotta get our priorities right! Remember we're the best space ninjas there ever were!" [Strikes pose.]
"... It's very hard to take seriously the words of someone in nothing but caca-print underwear."
[Looks down to check] "All right, all right. Superficial lout. Is this better?"
"... Yes, yes. Caca-print pyjamas evoke impressions of dignity and valour."
Captain Big Nose is Michael's father. He's dead.
Headquarters is the theme park they visited as a family every year on Michael's birthday. In terms of resilience, there's a great piece of timing early on which sets the tone for what's to come as Michael stares at the latest post-it note, on the morning of his birthday and that annual outing he's still hoping she'll take him on:
"Michael,
"I'll be home late tonight. Buy your own meals. You can have McDonald's today.
"Mum."
He reads it in silence, and you think inevitably this latest, careless dismissal after all Michael's preparation on this of all days is going to break him completely. But no:
"All right! Bring on the fruit loops! Where's the sugar? I need truckloads of it!"
With or without his Mum, Captain Long Ears and Jam are going to go to the theme park, and they're going to find Captain Big Nose if it's the last thing they do!
Visually this is Matsumoto all the way: the forms, the eyes, the teeth all scream TEKKON KINKREET. It's perfect for Thung's seamless switches from reality to fantasy as he and Jam deal with kids on school outings, attacks from flesh-eating piranha, the Revolving Prison that is a Big Wheel, and try to free a new, cruelly treated baby elephant which they christen Little Big Nose. Slowly, however, having waded through water and slept out overnight, the snot starts running, the shivers set in and the adventurous fantasies of a child with a vivid imagination slide into the feverish delirium of a boy who is very, very ill. I long to tell you what happens next but Thung plays up Michael's stoicism still further until it can stretch no more. Until Jam starts bleeding. Until Jam is lost. Until Michael is truly alone.
