"Nobody can be uncheered with a balloon."

A couple weeks ago, I had the pleasure of accompanying my cousin's little Gloria to Disney's "Winnie the Pooh" — In a word? Wonderful. I can't say it was amazing or astonishing, staggering or surprising, for it was plain and simply wonderful. It was everything Pooh has ever been — witty, warm, and an ever-welcomed chance to step back into childhood's Hundred Acre Wood, if only for a moment. (Well, an hour and three minutes.) My favorite things about this flick are nearly impossible to number — Never, in recent history, do I recall ever having found such peaceful joy in every moment of a movie.

Perhaps a certain degree of this quiet elation stems from nostalgia — my feeling that Pooh is still the same bear I knew and adored growing up. But apart from nostalgia, it must be said that this time around, seeing Pooh through my grown-up eyes, I felt such a deep and profound appreciation for the humor and heart behind these lovable characters. I laughed every time Pooh's tummy rumbled and at every adorably clueless remark:

"Piglet: I can NOT knot.
Rabbit: Not knot?
Pooh: Who's there?"


I sighed contentedly when the lovely voice of Zooey Deschanel crooned the Pooh themesong (and subsequently contributed a sound effect here and there). I smiled to myself at the charming use of the "Winnie the Pooh" storybook itself on screen — the characters bouncing from one page to the next, using sentences as balance beams, and escaping the Bakson's pit by clambering up a pile of loose letters. It was a simple, snuggly bedtime story on the big screen. I think I loved it more than little Gloria — her only comment afterwards? "There were no monsters!" And I guess that's a good thing. Life's filled with enough heffalumps and woozles — I'd rather have an hour and three minutes of this silly old bear.