It's normal for kids to have irrational fears. Growing up, a lot of children, including myself, had Child's Play-esque nightmares of toys come to life. That's not unusual. But what is really fucking strange is that writer/producer/director Wilson Coneybeare has decided to forcibly impart his horrific vision of a giant, living Teddy Ruxpin onto a new generation by presenting his childhood nightmare under the guise of a family film. Clear your loved ones from the room and behold the trailer for Gooby:
And Eugene Levy as the Owl-like teacher/neighbor who, with the final shot of him muttering "Gooby" in a mental institution, you learn was hallucinating both the monster and the boy.
What a nightmare. Who gives a living teddy bear laugh lines? Unless it's explained that those grew from how hard he smiles as his axe connects with human flesh. Wilson Coneybeare really should have shown his make-up tests to someone with a soul before committing to it.
Did you catch those leaf pile, sledding, and creek-side scenes lifted straight out of Calvin and Hobbes? I guess Coneybeare couldn't get the rights to make a legit adaptation--Bill Watterson is notorious for not licensing his beloved comic to anyone psychotic.
But well done pretending the trailer was light-hearted by showing the review blurbs in Comic Sans. It was like a cartoon character was telling me Gooby earned five doves! If I knew what doves represented, and maybe if I wasn't experiencing such a shameful feeling of personal violation, I would have been really impressed.