Just when I thought I was done blogging about “Hoodwinked” for a while…

I discovered a fascinating article in the current TIME MAGAZINE, titled, “Is Shrek Bad For Kids?”

“Yes” is the answer, by the way… at least without proper adult guidance. The writer discusses the dangers of a culture where fairytale parodies are being substituted for the originals. “Hoodwinked” is mentioned twice, since we are in the white-hot center of this trend (a trend I groaned about even as I finished the film).

Read the full article HERE.

But if you’re too lazy or busy, here is a compelling excerpt:

“There’s something a little sad about kids growing up in a culture where their fairy tales come pre-satirized, the skepticism, critique and revision having been done for them by the mama birds of Hollywood. Isn’t irony supposed to derive from having something to rebel against? Isn’t there a value in learning, for yourself, that life doesn’t play out as simply as it does in fairy tales? Is there room for an original, nonparodic fairy story that’s earnest without being cloying, that’s enlightened without saying wonder is for suckers?”

Mr. Poniewozik is right on the money. But it’s deflating to have “Hoodwinked” lumped in with the Shrek crowd so easily. For those of you who still might not understand why I am not directing any “Hoodwinked” sequels or similar fare, this is a big reason why.

I felt compelled to write to the magazine… Just in case they never print it, I thought I’d at least post it here:

“As the writer-director of “Hoodwinked,” it may surprise you that I couldn’t agree more with James Poniewozik’s article. Even as I was making the film, I asked myself the same question: Are we parodying something that kids should have the chance to experience first, “un-parodied?” We went to great lengths to distance our film from Shrek’s humor (and no, I don’t think Shrek considers kids). I would hope that “Hoodwinked” and its sequels will be seen as trying to do something genuine with its characters, rather than look for the next joke at the expense of innocence. We ALL need the real folklore of fairytales, whether we admit it or not.” — Cory Edwards, Los Angeles

I’d like to think that Red and her friends are teaching your kids some uncynical, real lessons. And I think time will show that “fractured fairytales” is a genre, not a bandwagon. But do me the favor of opening up the old storybooks and telling your kids about those stories first. It’s okay, the DVD will be waiting for them when they’re ready!

Cory

I just realized that I failed to describe anything about the story of “Andrew Henry’s Meadow.”

I don’t want to give too much away. But it’s basically a modern fable about an isolated town called Catatonia, which is one big metaphor for America at its worst: spoon-fed drones that all dress alike, work in cubicles and raise their kids with television. As I mentioned before, this will be a highly stylized world, so “fable” is the best word I can use.

Our hero, Andrew Henry, is an inventive boy who thinks outside the box. He escapes the town to discover a beautiful, fantastic meadow beyond it. Other kids follow him, and build their own homes up in the trees. Eventually the kids must return to the town to save everyone from the monstrous company who controls it. The ending has a real action-packed climax.

That’s all I will tell you. Anything more will ruin the fun. But this should be enough to go on during the developments of the next several months.

The movie a HUGE leap away from the original book. Adam and Zach have used that story as the tip of a much bigger iceberg. It’s going to be a fun fantasy spin on our entire culture, with a great message. After this movie, kids may not believe all the hype of the next candy-flavored drink commercial they see. At least that’s the hope.

Many of you have asked what is happening right now with AHM (that’s what I’m starting to call “Andrew Henry’s Meadow” to save time and letters as I type. It’s the “Bruckheimer Abbreviation.” Say it with me as you see the steel letters clang together over a ball of fire: “A… H… M!!”).

Okay, maybe not.

Adam Braff has written a great script. It was easy to get excited about it, because it is so similar to the kind of script I would have written myself. Now Adam, Zach and I are discussing bits and pieces of the script and the producers are wanting to make sure it has been “Cory-fied,” for lack of a better term. The studio has read many drafts, and wants to get one that has been “director approved” or has had a “director’s pass” on it.

Zach has had notes, I have had notes, and Adam has even had notes on his own script. Those are coming together with producer notes to a draft that Adam and I will look over late this week. It is our hope that this draft will go out to Fox and that they will love it.

What I like about Adam as a writer is that he is obsessive about his own work. He works fast and tirelessly, and has a new idea for his script about every six hours. This is what I respond to: an obsession with quality, with making something better and better. As negotiations progressed with this project, I could only let myself get so invested, for fear it would go away. But there comes a point where you’ve got to really GO for it and REALLY INVEST to get the job. So I did. Now that I am officially on the project, I am allowing myself to get more than invested… I’m allowing myself to get obsessed.

What does this mean? This means pondering the very first and very last shots of the movie. This means making wish lists of actors, cinematographers, production designers and composers for weeks. I have decided to get a sketchbook to scratch out crude storyboards whenever the mood strikes. Then every rough shot idea will be ready to hand off to a real storyboard team. My wife can tell you that she is hearing my random ideas about the film every few hours, without warning.

We will be midway through dinner and I will say, “I think I want a shot of the sprinkler heads.”

“The what?”

“The sprinkler heads in front of the house. Like a super-tight close-up as they pop up to do their automated task. Kind of an unusual shot, but symbolic, right?”

“You’re talking about ‘Andew Henry,’ right?”

“Yeah, sorry. Or maybe it’s a shot from inside the mailbox…”

This goes on until I am overwhelmed with how good the meal is or a promo for “Heroes” comes on the TV.

My wife has seen the signs before. I’ve given myself permission to obsess. The floodgates are opening. Hopefully everyone that comes onboard this team will happily obsess with me. I mean, hey, if you want to just do a JOB, you can get a job anywhere. But this is a movie, and how cool is that?