Barnyard Review: Cow Udders and the Suspension of Disbelief

Well, we went ahead and Netflixed Barnyard. The previews looked funny enough and the kids seemed to really want to see it, so why not? I had read some reviews, including those at IMDB, just to make sure it was family-friendly. But what I took away from the reviews was very disturbing. In case you aren’t aware of this movie, it’s a Lion King rip-off of sorts-though not to the extent that many would have you believe-with cows instead of lions and coyotes instead of hyenas. The most striking thing about the reviews of this movie is that all the cows have udders, including the males. Every single review whether by a critic or just your average John Q. Moviefone seems to be possessed by the urge to point out their extensive knowledge of bovine anatomy and remind the reader that male cattle do not, in fact, have udders.

Well, duh!

Now this idea of the male cows having udders seems to have penetrated into the very soul of that part of the psyche that deals with the suspension of disbelief. That suspension is, of course, a vital component to the success of any work of fiction, but especially movies, and especially animated movies. I mean, come on, talking animals! Which brings me to my point. All of these people bringing up the fact that the male cows-and, yes, if you want to get technical, cows can be defined as any cattle regardless of gender-don’t have udders, and letting that fact become such a distraction that they can’t get past it and therefore allow it to destroy their ability to enjoy or not enjoy the movie on its own merits apparently have absolutely no problem at all the fact that cows and other animals can walk on two legs, talk, play musical instruments, and even drive. This they can accept, but a male cow with udders!

One of the most hysterically funny reviews was by one of those poor critics who attempts to be clever despite the disadvantage of packing the necessary equipment to do so. He ends his review by first stating his qualifications; he’s from Kansas. Then he goes on, in his not so clever fashion to drive his point home: Somebody should have told the animators that male cattle don’t have udders. Because, you see, everyone working in the movie industry was incubated in a Brave New World kind of process in which they live their entire lives insulated from the rest of America. Yeah, the problem, of course, is that there was nobody associated with Barnyard who came to Hollywood from any of the 90% of continental America where a cow is just a few hours drive away. And, naturally, nobody had the wherewithal to Ask Jeeves if male cattle have udders. Yeah, somebody should have told the animators that male cattle don’t have udders; it’s entirely beyond reason to think that the knew this fact and made an artistic decision to give male cows udders because it would look funny or something.

The suspension of disbelief is a funny thing. The fact is, of course, that all fictional representations of reality require absolute suspension. Even the most intensely realistic of movies is simply a construct that due to the nature of the medium has no choice but to violate certain laws of time and space. Most movies require an unrealistic constriction of events into a small period of time. Even movies that take place in real time aren’t completely realistic. (I’ve never seen an episode of 24, so I have to ask: Do you ever get to see Kiefer Sutherland taking a bathroom break?)

I used to be really bothered by things that required great efforts of the suspension of disbelief. Take, for instance, the Harrison Ford movie Witness. I thought it was overall a terrific piece of filmmaking. In fact, I still think that whole sequence where the kid recognizes the killer inside the police station and moves to point to the photo is one of the all time effective uses of slow motion. I had a big problem with Kelly McGillis just standing there and letting Harrison Ford look at her naked, however. I just couldn’t get over my feeling that an Amish widow probably wouldn’t do that.

In the years since then, however, as reality has consistently undermined my ability to be shocked by anything, it has become far easier for me to accept outrageous possibilities on film. I mean, think about it, we now live in a world in which Cher is an Oscar-winning actress and George W. Bush is a two-term President. If you have trouble accepting that almost anything is possible in a movie, you have some big issues to deal with.

On the other hand, the whole suspension of disbelief thing often simply cannot be overcome. Like when a filmmaker purposely tricks you into believing something that is just simply impossible. My favorite example of this is The Sixth Sense. It astounds me that so many people find this movie to be a brilliant example of moviemaking. I’m somewhat less astounded that people are actually surprised by the twist ending, but it does still shock me. The Sixth Sense requires a superhuman suspension of disbelief. The movie asks you to believe that a man who is literally a ghost doesn’t realize it. I’m not sure exactly how much time is supposed to pass in The Sixth Sense, but I know it’s at least a few days. This, despite the fact that his wife never acknowledges his existence and that the only person who talks to him is a kid who sees dead people.

Now, it’s understandable that audiences might get confused. The director, M. Night Shyalamana-lama-ding-dong or whatever, carefully frames his scenes so that it appears as though the Bruce Willis character is talking with other people. Even though, of course, that’s impossible. We’re supposed to believe that some reason that is never explained his wife and he have undergone some kind of estrangement as a result of the violent act that opens the movie. Makes no sense, of course, so why even try to explain it. Instead, just keep on showing how Willis and his wife don’t communicate. Well, hell, of course, they don’t communicate, he’s a freaking corpse!

I’m sorry, but I just can’t suspend my disbelief enough to buy that this guy is so incredibly stupid he can’t figure out something is up when not only his wife, but nobody else on earth except for the freaky kid who sees dead people, acknowledges his corporeal existence. If they had made it so that Bruce Willis was playing himself, sure, that would be believable, but this guy is supposed to be smart. As Moe the bartender might say: Don’t make no sense.

So, anyway, if you are resisting the renting of Barnyard because you have issues with male cows having udders…get over it! There are plenty of other reasons to not enjoy Barnyard without having to resort to that. On the other hand, I must confess that Barnyard was certainly more enjoyable to me than, say, Over the Hedge. And, unlike that movie, Barnyard contains a line that has entered into my everyday repertoire, though by necessity I typically must paraphrase it to suit my purpose: “This is a cow farm…you’re gonna find cows outside!” I know that doesn’t sound a particularly hilarious and memorable line, but when you watch it you will understand why it has become a commonplace quote in my household.