The Mighty is about a friendship between two boy outcasts, one of whom suffers from Morquiro Syndrome, a disease that stunts growth and can inhibit other parts of the body, such as the ears, eyes, and muscle tissue. Modern medicine has extended the lifespan of a typical Morquiro victim to about sixty years; fortunately, science progresses much faster than Hollywood, which hopefully explains why Ian Michael Smith, an eleven-year-old brainiac enduring Morquiro in real-life, was turned down for the role of "Freak The Mighty" in favour of the more handsome Kieran Culkin. (Of course, months later, Smith landed the part of Simon Birch in the film of the same name, ironically a character not explicitly afflicted with Morquiro Syndrome--Simon is supposed to be a mere dwarf.)*

With his father (James Gandolfini) in prison and his mother dead, friendless, illiterate, overweight adolescent Max Kane (Elden Henson) lives in his grandparents' basement. Then "Freak" (Culkin) moves in next door and turns Max's world upside-down. As Max explains in voice-over: "Freak was the brain, and I was the legs." They become a golem, in a sense: instilled with a code of honour obtained through a mutual fascination with medieval legends, the pair--Freak planted atop Max's ample shoulders--becomes an opposing force against bullies of every stripe. All does not remain rosy for this gruesome twosome, however, as the ghosts that individually haunt them inch closer and closer. (Max fears the outcome if his father is parolled or escapes; Freak is essentially avoiding death itself.)

With his moussed hair and dork glasses, Culkin, as Freak, looks like a hunchbacked, pubescent version of the kid from Jerry Maguire. Culkin's performance is even less credible than his appearance: it's difficult to empathize with a character this cocksure and smarmy. Particularly in The Mighty's early scenes, Culkin is possessed of an arrogance that had me cheering for the (downright phony, zero-dimensional) sadistic school thugs who knock him off his crutches. While some may argue that Freak overcompensates in attitude because of his physical defects, not only has Hollywood always paternalistically exaggerated the mettle of the handicapped, but a strain of smugness also afflicts each member of Culkin's stage family to varying degrees.

Speaking of overcompensating, Gillian Anderson--playing the fright-wigged, white-trash wife of Iggy (Meat Loaf (!))--gives the most embarrassing supporting performance of the year in The Mighty. She so doesn't want to remind you of her "X File" alter-ego Dana Scully--"I have range, damn it!"--that she acts instead like a man in drag doing Gloria Swanson doing Vivian Leigh doing Blanche Dubois. The film is barely watchable when she's on screen. Sharon Stone, as Freak's quiet mother, comes off much, much better than Anderson, though we never learn anything about her except that she loves her son to pieces and apparently has the best--the only?--hairdresser in town.

There is one good reason to see The Mighty, and its name is Elden Henson. This is his first leading role (ignore the film's order of credits--Henson is the star)--how much do you want to bet that it's his last, at least for a little while? The film industry, you see, is almost as intolerant of heavy people as it is of the disabled (except on sitcoms and talk shows, where big women named Roseanne and Rosie rule). Max is so believably naïve that I'll cop to feeling a lump in my throat towards the end of the picture; Henson's purity of emotion is a sad and poignant sight to behold. He simply shines through all the lead-balloon knight imagery, questionable plot devices (a toboggan ride sequence is all-too-reminiscent of Home Alone's slapstick), and story holes (the bullies eventually disappear because...well, they just do), in addition to sweetly selling the contrived voice-over.

I realize that The Mighty is geared towards the "Choose Your Own Adventure" crowd, in which case some of its more blatant characterizations are conceivably forgivable. It will no doubt encourage a few kids to pick up a pen and write stories (after all, the whole film is essentially a storybook of Max's creation come to life)--always a good thing. And yet whatever the target audience, very little of it works fundamentally.-Bill Chambers

*Notice how both The Mighty poster and Simon Birch's newspaper campaign showcase their disabled characters in silhouette.