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The foundation for the story is the childhood belief that your toys could become real, or even were real when you weren’t looking. This idea appeared in two divergent films in 1995: The Indian in the Cupboard and Toy Story. One of them had a ton of heart and spawned a long-lasting franchise, while the other was an average film with a bitter aftertaste that it seemed completely unaware of as it played out.
This adaptation of Lynne Reid Banks’ children’s novel rises more complicated issues than it is capable or interested in answering. The toys placed in the magical cupboard don’t just become real, they’re brought to life by displacing people out of time and merging them with the plastic figurines. This element of intended horror is slowly dripped out, and The Indian in the Cupboard begins to flirt with the idea of the child as a god. It never does anything of interest with this idea.
Here is a film where Little Bear, the titular Indian, proclaims that there is no god, and there’s no dramatic resolution or import afford that line. It’s just casually tossed off – in a family film from 1995! Surely, there was more territory to explore with a line and development like that. Much of the problem is in the unease that director Frank Oz clearly exhibits with the material. He’s not a director made for family entertainment, and it shows in his awkward attempts at Spielbergian wonder.
Directing child actors to authentic performances is a hard job. Some kids are naturally gifted at appearing at ease in front of the camera while others are clearly in high-performance mode. Hal Scardino is permanently breathless, and Rishi Bhat comes across way too bratty, despite ostensibly playing the best friend role. Much of the film follows their melodrama and classroom scenes, and The Indian in the Cupboard is disappointing when we spend too much time away from the magical realism portions.
Litefoot is much better and more involving as Little Bear. He feels more engrossing, complicated, and aggressive than the rest of the balmy film knows what to do with. His rage threatens to disrupt the film, and his passages of wisdom can feel like Oz shouting, “pay attention – this message is important, kids!” I’ll assume the adventure was more involving on the page than it is on the screen.
I remember this being a film they’d wheel out on rainy days and end-of-the-year movie days in elementary school. But I also remember never finding the movie particularly engaging even at eight-years-old. It’s passable enough, I suppose, but it sure is disappointing.
