What about the notion of anthropomorphism, which figures heavily in Bears via John C. Reilly’s narration regarding the animals’ feelings and fastidiousness. Anthropomorphism is something that your work was also accused of. Where are you with that? Is anthropomorphism a bad thing?
Well, it depends. The Disney commentaries do go a little over the top, but you know, it’s for kids. It’s better to do that than to be the cold objective. A healthy balance is best. When I was accused of anthropomorphism, when I was told at Cambridge that I couldn’t talk about chimpanzees having personalities, minds, or feelings, because [those things] were unique to us, I knew the professors were wrong because of the teacher I had as a child: my dog, Rusty. You can’t share your life in a meaningful way and not know that animals have personalities and that’s obvious in this bear film. They have their personalities. You know they have minds capable of thinking things out because you see it happening in this film. And the feelings are pretty clear, too.
Each female also sports a pseudopenis, a seven-inch-long, fully-erectile clitoris that mimics a male hyena’s genitals with an accuracy that can stump even a seasoned biologist trying to tell the sexes apart.
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again; and then in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again.