Okay, pull up a comfy chair, maybe grab a biscuit and a cuppa, because we're heading back to the riverbank – but perhaps not quite the one you remember solely from Kenneth Grahame's beloved pages. We're diving into Terry Jones's rather marvellous, and distinctly Python-esque, 1996 live-action take on The Wind in the Willows. For many of us browsing the video store shelves back in the day, this one might have felt like a delightful surprise – a familiar title brought to life with a twinkle in its eye and some wonderfully eccentric creature comforts.
### From Page to Peculiar Pageant
Adapting a classic as gentle and iconic as The Wind in the Willows is always a tricky proposition. Lean too heavily into reverence, and you risk creating something beautiful but perhaps a little lifeless. Stray too far, and the purists will be sharpening their metaphorical boat hooks. What makes Terry Jones's version – which he both wrote and directed, stepping into the sizable webbed feet of Mr. Toad himself – so memorable is how it walks this line with a uniquely quirky charm. Jones, forever celebrated for his work with Monty Python and later directing films like Erik the Viking (1989), brings a certain understated absurdity to the proceedings that feels less like mockery and more like genuine affection viewed through a slightly skewed lens.
The film captures the idyllic Englishness of Grahame's world beautifully, thanks to some lovely location shooting across the English countryside (keep an eye out for the Kent & Sussex Railway!). But it's the look of our animal friends that really sticks in the memory. Forget sleek CGI; this was the era of practical magic. The characters – Mole, Ratty, Badger, and Toad – are brought to life through makeup, prosthetics, and costuming that feels tangible, tactile. Yes, there's an inherent strangeness to seeing actors like Steve Coogan (then perhaps best known in the UK for Alan Partridge, making his Mole delightfully earnest and slightly overwhelmed) or Eric Idle (another Python legend, bringing a weary warmth to Ratty) with snouts and whiskers. It's not quite human, not quite Muppet, but exists in a charmingly unique space that feels perfectly suited to a slightly dog-eared VHS tape watched on a rainy afternoon.
### A Cast of Creatures Great and Small
The casting is a huge part of the film's appeal. Steve Coogan’s Mole is the perfect audience surrogate – wide-eyed, naive, and instantly swept up in the adventures (and occasional perils) of riverbank life. His chemistry with Eric Idle's Ratty is lovely; Idle plays him as the sensible, slightly world-weary friend trying desperately to keep Toad's excesses in check. It’s a performance imbued with the kind of gentle irony Idle does so well.
And then there's Toad. Terry Jones himself takes on the role of the incorrigible, motorcar-obsessed amphibian, and he's an absolute riot. Green-faced, goggle-eyed, and radiating manic energy, his Toad is less cuddly creature and more glorious, overgrown ego. His gleeful cries of "Poop poop!" as he careers around the countryside capture the sheer, irresponsible joy of Toad's obsessions perfectly. Supporting players like Nicol Williamson as the stern but caring Badger and Antony Sher having a whale of a time as the sneering Chief Weasel add further depth and texture to this peculiar world. Even John Cleese pops up briefly as Toad's exasperated lawyer!
### Behind the Riverbank Rushes
While brimming with charm, the production wasn't without its challenges. Made for a relatively modest budget (around $12 million), it didn't exactly set the box office alight, particularly in the US where it was initially released under the somewhat baffling title Mr. Toad's Wild Ride (likely to cash in on the Disneyland attraction). This might explain why it feels like one of those "Oh yeah, I remember that!" films rather than a universally acknowledged classic. It’s a bit of a hidden gem, a film that perhaps found its true home on VHS and afternoon television screenings.
One fascinating detail is the film's slightly darker edge compared to some adaptations. The Weasels aren't just mischievous; they're genuinely menacing, turning Toad Hall into a nightmarish meat processing plant ("Toad Hall Meats" – a touch of Pythonesque satire there!). This thread adds a surprising bit of bite to the pastoral proceedings, elevating it beyond simple children's fare. The practical effects by the team at Stone Henge Studios (not Henson's, as sometimes assumed) deserve real credit too; achieving that specific look for the animal-human hybrids on that budget was no small feat.
### A Nostalgic Paddle Worth Taking?
Watching The Wind in the Willows today is a wonderfully cozy experience. It evokes a specific kind of late 90s British filmmaking – heartfelt, slightly eccentric, and utterly unashamed of its practical effects and gentle pace. It doesn't try to reinvent the wheel (or the motorcar, in Toad's case), but it does infuse a timeless story with a distinct personality. Is it the definitive adaptation? Perhaps not for everyone. But does it capture a certain whimsical spirit, filtered through the sensibilities of talents like Terry Jones and Eric Idle? Absolutely.
It’s the kind of film that might have easily become a rainy-day staple if you stumbled across that slightly worn VHS box at the local rental place. It feels handmade in the best possible way, a labour of love from people who clearly cherished the source material but weren't afraid to have a bit of fun with it. The blend of classic children's literature with that subtle Python flavour makes it uniquely endearing.
Rating: 7/10
Justification: This film earns a solid 7 for its sheer charm, wonderful practical creature designs, and delightful performances, particularly from Jones, Coogan, and Idle. It successfully captures the spirit of the book while adding its own quirky, slightly satirical flavour thanks to Terry Jones's direction and writing. It loses a few points for occasional pacing lags and perhaps not fully resonating as a major adaptation upon release, contributing to its somewhat 'forgotten gem' status. However, its warmth, gentle humour, and distinct visual style make it a truly pleasant and nostalgic watch.
Final Thought: A charmingly eccentric trip down the riverbank that proves even classic tales can benefit from a little bit of well-intentioned, slightly manic energy. Poop poop!