Who would have thought that a tap-dancing penguin would outpoint

In the words of Robert Gottlieb, the critic of wit and grace, we find a reflection both playful and profound: “Who would have thought that a tap-dancing penguin would outpoint James Bond at the box office? And deserve to? Not that there's anything wrong with 'Casino Royale.' But 'Happy Feet' — written and directed by George Miller — is a complete charmer, even if, in the way of most family fare, it can't resist straying into the Inspirational.” Though uttered in the spirit of amusement, this saying carries within it a deep truth about the nature of art, innocence, and the power of joy over spectacle.

In this single contrast — between the suave, worldly James Bond and the humble, dancing penguin — Gottlieb captures an ancient struggle between the forces of might and heart. The secret agent stands for mastery, control, and sophistication; he moves through a world of intrigue and power, where danger and dominance rule the day. The penguin, by contrast, embodies simplicity, purity, and wonder — a creature small in stature yet vast in spirit. And when such a creature rises to triumph in the hearts of the people, it reminds us that in a world weary of cynicism, the soul still longs for innocence, for that spark of inspiration that rekindles our humanity.

To say that “a tap-dancing penguin outpointed James Bond” is to speak of the victory of light over weight, of joy over judgment, of the unexpected triumph of the gentle. In ancient times, such lessons were told through myth. Recall David and Goliath, where the young shepherd, armed only with faith and courage, overcame the armored giant. The world still repeats this tale in new forms — and here, the same spirit lives in the waddling hero of Happy Feet. In this modern fable, the penguin does not fight with weapons, but with music, movement, and the rhythm of the heart — and by these, he conquers not an enemy, but despair itself.

George Miller, the mind behind Happy Feet, understood this mystery well. This was the same visionary who once gave the world the dark fury of Mad Max, yet turned his gaze from deserts of destruction to the frozen world of hope. Through animation and song, he gave voice to the voiceless — showing that even the smallest creature, through joy, can speak the language of the divine. And Gottlieb, ever the keen observer of art’s paradox, recognizes that beneath the film’s whimsy lies a spiritual echo: the truth that the Inspirational, even when familiar, still carries power.

The critic’s gentle jest — that family films “can’t resist straying into the Inspirational” — is, in fact, an acknowledgment of our enduring hunger for meaning. The ancients would have said that every story, however humble, must climb the sacred mountain of transformation. Whether told in temples or on cinema screens, the purpose of story is the same: to remind us who we are and who we might become. Thus, when the penguin dances, he does more than entertain — he awakens in us the child who still believes that beauty, perseverance, and truth can change the world.

From this reflection, we learn that greatness does not always roar; sometimes, it sings. The Inspirational may be predictable, yet it endures precisely because it is necessary. The world will always need its Bonds — symbols of strength, cunning, and control — but it will also always crave its Mumbles, those awkward, shining souls who remind us that love and laughter are powers just as mighty. As the philosopher Plato once wrote, “The soul takes flight when it is touched by beauty.” So it is with Happy Feet — a story simple enough for a child, yet radiant enough to awaken the soul of the weary adult.

Therefore, dear listener, take this lesson to heart: never underestimate the small, the joyful, or the pure. In a world ruled by noise and ambition, it is often the unexpected — the penguin, the poet, the dreamer — who restores our faith in life’s gentleness. Let your own “happy feet” dance through the cold seasons of your existence, not with arrogance, but with courageous delight. For joy, too, is an act of rebellion; and in the end, it may yet outshine the world’s most powerful heroes.