Books, Arts & Manners: So Big

Hard as it is to believe, the American cinema has actually turned out an accomplished, endearing, and by no means mindless fantasy, Big. It was written by Steven Spielberg’s kid sister, Anne, in collaboration with Gary Ross, and was directed—when Steven, thank goodness, became unavailable—by Penny Marshall. It may be that the reason this story of a 12 year-old boy miraculously transmuted into a young man circa 35 works so well is that two-thirds of its creative team were women. Though the boys will-be-boys—or, rather, men-will-be boys—story has rightly not been subverted, the feminine sensibility must have tempered the rowdiness with delicacy. The film is understatedly funny and measuredly sentimental; what it lacks in sharpness and brilliance, it very nearly makes up for in sensitivity and restraint.

Just think how awful things could have been had Spielberg directed, as he had planned, with Harrison Ford in the lead; the result, at best, would have been an Edsel. Ford’s boyish charm, or what there is left of it, and his macho persona would have been of no greater use to him here than his acting ability, or what there ever was of it. Tom Hanks, however, proves just about perfect for the role of manchild rousing himself into a boy-man: brazening it out, lucking out, and sometimes just failing upward into the part of the spurious American adult. This character is not in the least out of the reach of a clever 12-year-old, especially if, in the course of the impersonation, the boy turns 13. Clearly, the Jewish view is at work here, for, at 13, the boy has turned man enough to get the girl, even if that girl is a tough, downright predatory, attractive businesswoman in her late twenties.

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John Simon

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Hard as it is to believe, the American cinema has actually turned out an accomplished, endearing, and by no means mindless fantasy, Big. It was written by Steven Spielberg’s kid sister, Anne, in collaboration with Gary Ross, and was directed—when Steven, thank goodness, became unavailable—by Penny Marshall. It may be that the reason this story of a 12 year-old boy miraculously transmuted into a young man circa 35 works so well is that two-thirds of its creative team were women. Though the boys will-be-boys—or, rather, men-will-be boys—story has rightly not been subverted, the feminine sensibility must have tempered the rowdiness with delicacy. The film is understatedly funny and measuredly sentimental; what it lacks in sharpness and brilliance, it very nearly makes up for in sensitivity and restraint.

Just think how awful things could have been had Spielberg directed, as he had planned, with Harrison Ford in the lead; the result, at best, would have been an Edsel. Ford’s boyish charm, or what there is left of it, and his macho persona would have been of no greater use to him here than his acting ability, or what there ever was of it. Tom Hanks, however, proves just about perfect for the role of manchild rousing himself into a boy-man: brazening it out, lucking out, and sometimes just failing upward into the part of the spurious American adult. This character is not in the least out of the reach of a clever 12-year-old, especially if, in the course of the impersonation, the boy turns 13. Clearly, the Jewish view is at work here, for, at 13, the boy has turned man enough to get the girl, even if that girl is a tough, downright predatory, attractive businesswoman in her late twenties.