Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

When I was growing up until about age 5, I was really only allowed to watch two T.V. shows: “Sesame Street” and “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” I remember even as a kid thinking how corny the slow, soft spoken Rogers was and all his lessons about believing in yourself and accepting people for who they are, but after recently watching the Morgan Neville documentary, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”, I now understand how truly radical he was. All along, Rogers was sneaking in subtle political messages that were, at the time, considered liberal, though the man was a devout Republican and ordained Presbyterian minister. The first week of his show’s 1968 national debut (yes, the show started in 1968!), we met the puppet King Friday, the XIII (incidentally, it took me 41 years to get the “Friday the 13th” joke), a despotic ruler who’s “afraid of change” and wants “the undesirables” out, so he decides to build a wall. Sound familiar? Later, Mr. Rogers hired a black man to play “Police Officer Clemmons,” despite the strained (to say the least) relationship the police had with the black community in the ‘60s that still clearly resonates today. At a time when many whites were trying to segregate swimming pools, Mr. Rogers had Officer Clemmons share a foot bath with him in a kiddie pool. In his documentary, Neville interviews an intimate group of talking heads who knew Mr. Rogers best, including his wife, “Officer Clemmons” himself (who somehow looks thinner and younger than his televised self from decades ago), and even famed cellist Yo-Yo Ma, who once guested on an episode. (“He scared the hell out of me!” Ma jokes.) I think my favorite description of “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” from one of these interviewees was that it was “a television show made by a guy who didn’t like television.” It had low production values; a quiet, almost camera-shy host who didn’t yell at you (unlike every other kiddie show host at the time); and dime-store puppets in lieu of expensive animation. On his way to seminary school, Mr. Rogers discovered the strange new invention of the television set and, seeing its potential as an important and powerful tool, decided to try his hand at producing his own show. He was discouraged at what passed for children’s entertainment at the time: lots of noise; excitable, almost apoplectic hosts; and repeated pies thrown in faces. In other words, there wasn’t much human dignity on display. Mr. Rogers decided to do the opposite, and, as a result, ended up creating a timeless classic that has lasted for generations. The entire philosophy of “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” could probably be boiled down to the Biblical adage, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” For over 30 years, he continually greeted his viewers as “neighbor,” and obviously, “Neighborhood” is in the title of the program. Mr. Rogers used to sing songs (all of them written by himself, including the title song, which also serves as the title of this documentary) about respecting the value of others and, just as importantly (if not more so), yourself. He taught kids it didn’t matter how young, small, or even disabled they were (he once hosted a wheelchair-bound child to introduce his young viewers to children who struggle with disabilities), they each had worth. One of his most famous songs, titled “It’s You I Like,” includes the following lyrics: “It’s you I like/It’s not the things you wear/It’s not the way you do your hair/but it’s you I like.” Flash-forward in the documentary to his meeting with a crowd of very young fans, and you can hear a boy, no more than 3 or 4 years old, call out in the background to his hero, “Mister Rogers, it’s YOU I like!” Watching that moment, tears in my eyes, I had a powerful revelation about “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood”: It wasn’t just a show; it was an active, Christian ministry, and it clearly worked. Its subtlety was the secret of its success. Comedian Sarah Silverman has suggested that Mr. Rogers, her own personal hero, should be made a saint, based on his three miracles of obtaining $20 million in funding from the government for PBS when Nixon was threatening to defund the station to help pay for the Vietnam War; his interactions with Koko the gorilla who knew sign language; and teaching generations of children to value themselves. I once thought the idea to canonize Mr. Rogers was laughable, but after seeing this documentary, I’m not so sure anymore. Despite highlighting his many saintly attributes, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” doesn’t lapse into hagiography. When Mr. Rogers found out costar Clemmons routinely visited a gay club, he instructed him not to return in fear of the public finding out and threatening to protest the show. Of course, he was just worried about the fate of his beloved program, and this happened during a much less progressive time, so it’s difficult to judge what he did in the ‘60s and ‘70s based on 2018 standards. Besides, he had many gay friends in life, and, according to Clemmons, he “came around” on the issue eventually. Mr. Rogers deliberately slowed his show down, just when his juvenile competitors were speeding things up for the ADD crowd. One episode, he showed his young audience exactly how long a minute is by using an egg timer. For one long, excruciating (by television standards) minute, he just sat in silence as that timer counted off a minute. By comparison, to drastically illustrate the difference in other children’s entertainment at the time, the documentary shows clips from the ‘80s that are a direct damning indictment of what I grew up on, after I was allowed to watch more than just those two aforementioned shows. We see loud, violent clips of “G.I. Joe,” “The Transformers,” “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” and, perhaps most stinging of all, since it’s one of my favorite animated movies, “The Chipmunk Adventure.” I actually own a few original animation cels of that movie, and they’re hanging on my office wall, so you can imagine how close to home that hit. Towards the end of his life, you could see the weight of the world start to wear on Mr. Rogers, and one of the talking heads noticed that his personality slowly morphed from the shy, innocent Daniel Tiger (who was modeled on the host and who now has his own animated program on PBS that my kids love) to the overbearing King Friday, the XIII who “wanted everything his way.” After 9/11, we see images of Mr. Rogers looking beaten down and almost broken. There’s a heaviness in his eyes, subtly acknowledging that evil had won. When PBS asked him to say a few words about the tragedy, he was reluctant. “Are people really going to want to hear what I have to say?” he asked. Yes, Mr. Rogers, we did. And we still wish we could hear your voice about the unfortunate state of the world today. For over 30 years (with a brief, rerun-fueled hiatus where he tried his hand at an ill-received show for adults), “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” taught lessons that were at once blindingly obvious yet profoundly real: Kindness matters. Courtesy matters. Decency matters. It’s like that inspirational poster from the ‘90s: “Everything I need to know, I learned in kindergarten.” Lately, I think we could all use a reminder of that. One of the many lessons I’ve taken from Mr. Rogers, without even realizing it, is that we should use our talents for good, not evil. The problem is, giving into temptation is just too easy in this world. Darth Vader once warned, “You don’t know the power of the Dark Side,” and unfortunately, he was right. To far too many in this country, it can be much more alluring to shout “Lock her up!” than to seriously debate the issues. Almost every day, I want to write an expletive-filled screed about the nonstop horrors this country is currently experiencing. Instead, I wrote a review about the Mr. Rogers movie. Thank you, Mr. Rogers.