They just don't make 'em like this anymore. You can take all your Culkins and Woods and Osments and roll them into one, and they still couldn't shine the shoes of Freddie Bartholemew (as Mickey Rooney does in this film). The difference, I believe, is that these contemporary performers think of themselves as CHILD actors, where Bartholemew and his contemporary Shirley Temple thought of themselves as ACTORS -- just as Rooney's character thought of himself as a BUSINESSMAN. The effect is palpable: you just can't fake being a real person. This of course is the familiar story of an American boy in the 1880's who learns he is the heir to an English earl and must go live with the old bloke, who parenthetically hates his mother, in an old castle. Needless to say, it is the earl who is transformed by the strength and purity of the boy's character, and not the intended reverse. Every scene and every line in this film is perfect, and if it is a "period piece," then I say we'd be so much better off if we could return to that "period."
Review of Little Lord Fauntleroy
