Paddington 2: An Examination
As a new uncle, I am constantly nervous around my nephew. He’s got a big ol’ giant orb head, which is entertaining, but I always want to make a good impression on the little guy. I want to help teach him what’s right and what’s wrong as he navigates this insanely screwed up capitalist hellscape we call home. How do we do this in a way that is simple and accessible for children to understand? Stories.
I am not talking about doing a Joseph Campbell-esque journey / look through all the myths, legends, and parables that have been passed down for centuries. That would require so much work that I could not do — quite literally — anything else. Like everyone, I need brevity in my life. However, they are a tool and make impressions.
Re-runs of ‘86’s An American Tale detailed an immigration story similar to my own Ashkenazi great-grandparents fleeing Russia. ‘98’s Mulan, one of the first theater experiences I remember, told me about feminism in a way I could comprehend as a 6-year-old. Reading HG Wells as a young adult woke me up to class-consciousness and socialism as a high schooler. The list goes on and on, but they all are things I can point back to as a starting point for values I hold. While nothing is perfect (especially mass-marketed global products such as Disney movies); to completely write-off analyzing entertainment taken in at an impressionable age is foolish.
Enter Paddington 2. It’s one of my personal favorite movies. It is something I think about often whenever I need a pick-me-up; everything about it is just such a delight. At its’ core, it is a film that says as long as you are loyal and kind, things will work out. The wrongs will be righted and we’ll all be happily ever after. There is this element heavily throughout the entire film because, ya know, it is a kid’s movie. But, there’s also a lot to grasp onto when looking it over with a more politically-minded lens as well.
Our main character, the titular Paddington, is no ordinary talking bear. He is a Peruvian immigrant and solidly working-class. Though he lives in privilege with the Brown family and their servant Miss Bird, he still trades his labor for a wage to get commodities that he wants. Namely, a pop-up book at his friend Mr. Gruber’s shop for his Aunt Lucy.
Instead of seeing the price tag (“a thousand coins”) and saying that the Browns will pay for it like they seemingly very well could have, he takes on odd jobs. He works in a barbershop to gleeful mishaps, he washes windows to more of the same, and generally helps people whenever they need it in exchange for wages. Of course, he does not question the concept of labor or quote The Communist Manifesto, but we can all identify with his struggle. He works hard to provide for the things he wants for too little pay.
The film takes a turn when Paddington is walking home and hears a crime happening at Mr. Gruber’s shop. It is a property crime, there’s no indication that anyone is hurt, it is simply a petty theft occurring. Here, Paddington makes a mistake and tries to become a cop by enforcing property laws. While he does it in the interest of protecting his friends and family — Mr. Gruber who would lose out on the book’s value, as well as Aunt Lucy whom Paddington wanted the book for — he is still helping the institution of police go after what appears to be an unhoused man engaging in non-violent theft.
His error costs him dearly. As the man, who we later find out to be famed actor Pheonix Buchanan, escapes, the police turn on Paddington. The police do not care about justice, if they did they would clearly see that our hero would not randomly decide to vandalize his friend’s shop and steal his things. Instead, they want to make their case and go home. Because Paddington is the nearest mammal around, they make a case against him and send him to trial.
The prosecution’s case against him is weak, to say the least. Not only do they not find the book, but they also don’t have much of any evidence beyond Paddington wanting it and being around at the same time. Though it has sentimental value; it was only worth “a thousand of those coins”. Mr. Gruber, the presumed victim of the crime, actively pleads with the court to spare the bear. Like many court cases in the real world, the lack of evidence does not matter. Paddington is deemed guilty by the system and is sentenced to 10 years in jail.
Why? Eye-witness testimony and the judge’s discretion. Pheonix Buchanan perjures himself to lie about Paddington in a way that is so charming the courtroom is wrapped around his finger. The judge, an old cranky white guy, had part of his hair mistakingly shaved off during one of Paddington’s odd jobs. The judge, despite having a tumultuous relationship with our hero, does not recuse himself; because as we saw with several Supreme Court cases here in America, judges don’t have to do that.
While it’s played for laughs here, both these phenomena have real-world effects. The Innocence Project deems eye-witness accounts “the leading cause of wrongful convictions” after their involvement with 75% of overturned convictions. At its’ best it is truly just mistaken identity. At its’ worst, it is forced testimony to get the guy cops like for a crime such as the recently exonerated Sean Ellis case in Boston. It is notoriously unreliable, but since everyone likes Buchanan, they take him at his word and damns Paddington.
Judges, by virtue of being the ones doing the sentencing, are the ones most responsible for the plight of the incarcerated. They are able to decide, within reason, how much time in jail you’ll actually get if a jury of your peers says that you are guilty. As established, they do not have to recuse themselves from really any case they don’t want to, even if the conflict of interests are flagrant. Countless times, this has been corruptible such as the “Kids for Cash” scandal, wherein two judges were receiving kickbacks from private prisons to sentence children to harsher sentences so the company could further their profits.
This is the one-two punch that floors Paddington. It does not matter that the case against him is shoddy, all that matters are those two key “facts”. The system that moviegoers inherently trust to be what they perceive as justice do not find it here. Instead, we see a liar and a corrupt court work in tandem to sentence the kindest character we know to prison for 10 years of his life.
While the Browns begin looking for the real perpetrator, Paddington goes about life in jail. Because he was convicted of a crime he is now considered to be the lowest-of-the-low, like his fellow inmates, he now lives in dilapidated conditions. He no longer gets bedtime stories or delicious food. He gets told off by the Warden / other inmates and is forced to eat slop. The world is cold and uncaring to everyone in there because they are deemed unworthy of adequate living conditions.
This is frighteningly real if we think about it beyond what we just see in the film. For instance, in my hometown of St. Louis, there was a years-long initiative led by ACTION ST. LOUIS called Close the Workhouse. One of its goals was, simple enough, to shut down the crumbling jail known as the Workhouse, and help lower the number of incarcerated people while improving their conditions.
It’s been covered numerous times over the years due to the Workhouse’s vile — but not uncommon — conditions. This includes dangerously high temperatures with the incarcerated begging for help from the inside. It includes penal labor programs, shortchanging workers everywhere. While innocence should not matter in someone’s right to adequate living conditions, a number of the folks in there have not even been convicted, they are just awaiting their trial due to not being able to afford their bail.
Fortunately, ACTION was successful, securing legislation to close the jail this summer. However, they still faced powerful opposition from society at large whose arguments largely boiled to: “why should I care? I am not in there and have other things to worry about right now. They did something wrong, they wouldn’t be there unless they did.” It is J. Michael Straczynski’s oft-described casual blindness to the suffering of others alongside a steady stream of demonization.
In Paddington 2, we see that this is not the case. We see an innocent mammal get railroaded by a corrupt system. We are even treated to a constant reminder of the humanity of others. After finally having enough of his slop, Paddington goes to reason with the chef / “worst of the worst” Knuckles McGinty. He’s a tough and frankly frightening person. While he does not want to hear it out and is ready to fight the bear, he gets a taste of a marmalade sandwich and is instantly won over.
It is then that a full prison montage occurs. The institution is changed from its nightmare scenario to something more adequate for all. Inmates make deserts, get read stories, and have recreational activity. No longer is the place about locking people up and throwing away the key, it is about making their lives better so that they (presumably) may rehabilitate into society upon release.
While it is not a full-on Angela Davis or Ruth Wilson Gilmore prison abolition take, it certainly calls the question of prisons in society. Should they just punish and leave forever those we deem “bad”, or should it be a suitable living condition for folks that have made mistakes and try to rehabilitate and enter them into society?
Ultimately, the answer is the latter. As prison conditions are lessened and the incarcerated are seen as equals, life improves. We see the incarcerated as redeemable figures. Even after Mr. Brown actively insults them all at a prison visit, they still help Paddington to freedom. Knuckles, alongside cohorts Spoon and Phibs lead the way by orchestrating a prison break (which, despite “breaking the rules” does not derail their rehabilitation as they get pardoned for their crimes).
While they do initially betray him, by the end they are the ones to save him from peril. They save Paddington’s life, clear his name, and help bring Aunt Lucy back alongside the Brown family. Despite whatever moral failings people may perceive because of their status in the film as incarcerated people, they are unquestionably a force for good.
Granted, when watching the film, I doubt children will suddenly question everything about the system our society upholds. They aren’t going to suddenly stand up in the living room and say “oink oink piggies, don’t take me to jail” or become an army of Fred Hamptons overnight. However, I hope that the media representation of humanity in the incarcerated can be treated as a stepping stone to values that will change our society to alleviate social conditions leading to abolition.
