First impressions of The Sheep Detectives
The Sheep Detectives, like Paddington — and like Babe, that masterpiece by which all talking-animal movies are measured — delights me, makes me laugh, and meaningfully moves me to the edge of tears.
In this review, I will do my very best to avoid flock-related puns. Let’s leave that to the Grandmaster of Puns, The New Yorker’s Justin Chang — some comments from him seem inevitable. (He’s got mutton better to do.)
Have you seen the trailer for The Sheep Detectives? If so, let me put your worries to rest. This movie rivals Paul King’s first Paddington as the family film with the most unfortunate trailer. The promos for both movies made me say, “Nope. Absolutely not.” The warm critical reception for both, then, made me repent of my hasty dismissal. I had to check them out for myself.
And lo . . . to my amazement, The Sheep Detectives, like Paddington — and like Babe, that George Miller’s 1995 masterpiece by which all talking-animal movies are measured — delighted me, made me laugh, and meaningfully moved me to the edge of tears. I wondered, as I emerged from the theater, if my face might be glowing from the joy of it all.
Am I overreacting? Am I just starved for escapism?
