Every morning, Fred McFeely Rogers—ordained Presbyterian minister, child development expert, lifelong Republican, and unlikely television icon—would swim a mile at an athletics club before weighing himself. And every day for decades the scale reportedly read 143 pounds, the news of which filled him with joy. As he explained to his friends, family, and colleagues on his groundbreaking public access show
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, there are respectively one, four, and three letters in the words that make up the phrase “I love you.” For Fred Rogers, 143 was numerological shorthand for an idea that informed every aspect of his life and work—that of ceaseless love for all people. And just as 143 became a shorthand for him, the very idea of Fred Rogers has become a shorthand in American culture for a kind of empathetic compassion and caring that has become all too rare in this age of social media and a rabid 24-hour news cycle. When the first trailer was released for Morgan Neville’s
Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, a documentary exploring not just the history of
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood but the philosophies that motivated its star and creator, many of my fellow critics predicted it would be one of the most moving and emotional films of 2018. Having just seen the film, I feel their predictions were insufficient.
Won’t You Be My Neighbor? is nothing short of an emotional crucible that left my theater full of jaded New Yorkers of every race and age weeping like the very children they were when they first visited the Neighborhood.
The documentary begins with the astounding revelation that Fred Rogers went into television specifically because he hated it. While visiting his parents one day after completing his studies at Rollins College, he encountered his first television set. What he discovered when he turned it on left him horrified: juvenile, immature programming for children featuring cruel, slapstick violence. Incensed, he delayed his enrollment at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary so he could go into the industry and create a show he felt would properly aid children in their emotional and psychological development. After working on a series of musical programs for NBC, he finally scored his first show on Pittsburgh’s WQED, an unscripted live program entitled
The Children’s Corner where he pioneered many of the characteristics that would define his career: puppetry, musical interludes, and a slower-paced contemplativeness that favored measured introspection and silence. Though successful, the show left him restless, and after completing his theological studies and ordination he began his run on the show that would make him a household name:
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.
As producer Margy Whitmer explains: “You take all of the elements that make good television and do the exact opposite, you have
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Low production values, simple sets, unlikely star. Yet, it worked!” But why did it work? Perhaps due to its radical idea of treating children like human beings with deep feelings and emotions that need to be nurtured, not talked down to. In the decades after his death, many have forgotten how patently revolutionary the show’s approach was to child psychology, not just in its adoption of a disarming and quiet earnestness but in its determination to directly address difficult subject matter. As the documentary recounts, the very first week of the show’s existence included an episode where puppet Daniel Striped Tiger—Mr. Rogers’ alter-ego—reacted to the news of Robert F. Kennedy’s killing by asking a human character “What does ‘assassination’ mean?” As the show continued, it directly confronted issues like divorce, death, and tragedy. (Two of the most heart-breaking moments of the film see a visibly shaken Mr. Rogers do special segments addressing the Challenger explosion and the 9/11 attacks, both of which rocked him to the core and made him question his ability to reach and affect people in an increasingly dark and violent world.)
But these all seem to pale in his treatment of Officer Clemmons (François Clemmons), an African-American cop character, in the wake of the Civil Rights movement. Following a string of incidents where black families were splashed with bleach and other dangerous cleaning chemicals while swimming in “white pools,” Mr. Rogers filmed a segment where he shared a foot-bath with Clemmons, making a powerful statement on interracial harmony that hearkened back to the biblical story of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. But the story with Clemmons only gets more powerful from there. Later in the show’s run, news reached Mr. Rogers that Clemmons—a closeted homosexual—had been spotted frequenting a local gay bar. Aware that the news could lead to the loss of sponsors, Mr. Rogers ordered him to stop. But as Clemmons admits in an interview where he breaks down into tears, Mr. Rogers eventually grew to love and accept him exactly as he was, even becoming his surrogate father.
One of the most surprising insights of
Won’t You Be My Neighbor? was Mr. Rogers’ struggles with self-doubt. From his early childhood days where a stern upbringing, near-constant illness, and incessant teasing for his weight made him introspective and shy, he grappled with the idea that he was failing both himself and his personal mission in life. Near the end when he was dying of stomach cancer, he asked his wife Joanne if she thought he was a sheep, referring to the biblical prophecy that during the final judgment all mankind would be divided into sheep and goats. Amazed by the question, she answered that if anyone in history was a sheep, it was him. But it seems to have given him spare comfort. This is the great tragedy: that he was never able to truly appreciate the depth and breadth of his impact on millions of lives. But if Mr. Rogers was never able to, a new generation of children will with the release of this new documentary. And hopefully it will remind a generation of embittered, angry, and exhausted adults that while feelings like anger and sadness are important, treating others with love is the most important thing of all. All it takes is a little effort, a little compassion, and just a touch of make-believe.
Rating: 8/10
