Honey, I Shrunk the Kids

Director Joe Johnston, a veteran of Industrial Light and Magic, brings a wry Rube Goldberg approach to his first-ever feature. The sets are definitely plastic, but that slightly homemade look is refreshing in the hardware movie decade.

The special effects are pretty special for the most part, and the movie seems only about 10 minutes too long. [23 June 1989, p.1D]

The cheery result is enough to renew one's faith in Uncle Walt and the boys - a family picture that transcends the cliche, a light-bright romp where the sentiment isn't cheap and where the action isn't childish. Now there's a novelty item for you. [27 June 1989]

Honey, I Shrunk the Kids pulls some familiar plot - and emotional strings. It's a tad too predictable. But it's resourceful and well-crafted. It's the type of movie that works on one level for parents and another for kids. Both will be pleased. [23 June 1989, p.12]

Shrunk is a sometimes funny, occasionally clever comedy adventure. But the fun stuff consumes only about one-fourth of the film, nowhere near enough for a feature-length movie. [24 June 1989, p.C06]

The movie is sweet and reflects Disney's usual care, but there's nothing in it to match that title. [23 June 1989, p.H11]

The special effects are all there, nicely in place, and the production values are sound, but the movie is dead in the water. It tells an amazing and preposterous story, and it seems bored by it.

----------------------------------8.4/10-----------------------------------

A rather impressive film, taking itself seriously and trying to convey a very surreal and accurate side of miniature life. Filled with real emotions of happiness and sadness, the honesty and genius behind the screenplay and direction is evident, and by avoiding making the comedy cartoony, it avoided being cheesy.

The rhythmic machinery of a household ritual: A 3.0-star vivid surge of high-tension familial bonds.2000(3.0)I watched Honey, I Shrunk the Kids​ in 2000, and it remains a vivid 3.0-star record in my archive—a raw revelation of the domestic cinematic culture that defined my early psychological landscape. This experience **** the fourth wall of the "living room theater" by infusing a rhythmic energy of a family gathering into a narrative that felt 100% chewy and authentic. While the production of this "series" provided a sensational comfort, the narrative rhythm was far from stagnant; it offered a rhythmic journey through the shared excitement of a video-rental night, proving that even a mundane sequel could be a vivid act of storytelling rebellion against everyday boredom. The 95% preservation of my memory is dominated by the rhythmic, raw sound of the VCR whirring and the vivid but pathetic squabbles over which tape to rent, creating a permanent, sensational scar of nostalgia on my soul. Unlike the stagnant 0.5-star drift of my 2011 theater nightmare, this encounter possessed a rebellious soul that turned a simple family activity into a sensational masterpiece of early memory. It stands in my 2000 record as a powerful 3.0-star testament to the raw power of collective viewing—a high-tension encounter with the vivid rhythm of home that remains one of the most chewy artifacts of my cinematic journey.

I really enjoy this fun family movie. It is really well paced and entertaining. Why am I talking about a family film? Well it’s written by horror writers Stuart Gordon and Brian Yuzna. And I suppose Ed Naha who wrote Troll (1986). Anyway these b-movie horror writers made a family film for Disney that was really good fun and had a huge cultural impact. The acting is good. The effects are dates but silly enjoyment. It’s a nostalgic film that is undoubtedly entertaining.

Disney brews up a very kid-focused science adventure that’s half Jules Verne Extraordinary Voyage and half Absent-Minded Professor. Rick Moranis plays the whiffle-brained dad, dedicating himself to the development of a homebrew shrink ray (and all manner of smaller, less purposeful inventions) while his family life teeters on the edge of dissolution. The kids are upbeat and optimistic about this situation, especially his young son who’s essentially a geek’s Mini-Me, but the wife has clearly had enough of the chaos and threatens to walk out. Perfect timing for a high-concept traumatic event! I’m told nothing makes you appreciate what you’ve got like the threat of losing it. Surely that’s what was going through her mind as she dangled precariously from a backyard clothesline, squinting through a magnifying glass in search of her freshly millimeter-sized children. Little surprise that the film’s head honcho, Joe Johnston, was a fresh delivery from the visual effects department. Moving up the ladder after a successful career with ILM (where he designed the Millennium Falcon and co-created Boba Fett), Johnston places a heavy emphasis on grand set pieces and stimulating ideas. Elephant-sized pet ants, water droplets that hit like artillery shells, blade-of-grass slides, Lego apartment blocks, the list is pretty extensive. After we’re through the extended introductions (which, for the record, are brutal), the film’s practical effects do a great job of resetting the scene and establishing an unusual sense of scale. It’s akin to a wild and crazy trip through one of the educational rides at a theme park, all sensory magic and high concepts. Enough to send the kids home happy, anyway, assuming they didn’t fall asleep during the setup chapters. As a curious little flea-sized spectacle, this is just fine. Enjoyable, even. When it tries to touch the other bases and actually tell a story, though, whew, it’s a struggle. Low rent, cable TV-grade script and acting, through and through. I can cut a little slack given the target audience, but c’mon guys, throw a bone or two to the parents who were drug along to this. The best we get is an obviously slumming Matt Frewer, who hams through an over-amplified role as the family’s obnoxious, sports-oriented neighbor. If Jim Carrey weren’t a total nobody in 1989, I’d have thought Frewer was shamelessly stealing his act.