I don't view films as if I'm watching them as the intended audience; I watch them for myself. And that's why I found it odd at how engrossed I was when I watched this film for the first time at the age of eighteen. Aside from the great gothic flair of the mansion, two superbly placed cameos, and nice laughable black humour from the "trio," the film took off because of its emotional core. It's something that a youngster can really get into, but also anyone who finds it sad that a child can die. When Casper plays with his toys, I just wanted to start crying. This eternal child--lost and stuck in an age of mystery and wonder. And yet, he's smitten with a girl--he's starting to go through puberty. And it's just so sad . . . and beautiful.
And then there's the father, and his sway into the afterlife, his daughter's plight, her struggle with her wish to help Casper. It's all so simple and written for kids, but I was so engrossed by the romanticism of it all.
The villains mostly butt into the greatness of all of it, but you just have to grant that in a kid's picture. And now comes my but . . . in the end, when the mother does appear, she's supposed to be this amazing, angelic, deux es machinal, she floats through the stain glass window, her long hair flows around her, her gown flows all around her but--what the hell! why is her dress such a deep red!? she looks like satan! Oh well. Bad costume choice made a really bad moment. But mostly, I loved this film for it's good parts, despite the childishness of much of it.
