I am not eleven and I am an asshole. Because as clearly well-meaning as this documentary is, as adorable as watching the prepubescent masses discuss life, the universe and everything, and as uplifting as it was to meet the director (a real live director!) first-hand in the theater, I still have no problem critiquing her film.
Aussie Genevieve Bailey tells us right up front in a voiceover that eleven was her favorite age. Really? You poor bastard. She then points out that was the age she first wanted to go places and make a movie. Well, mission accomplished, dear. She didn’t specify exactly where she’d go or what quality of movie she’d make, which is good. Keep those expectations low.
Let me stop there for a second. Eleven? Eleven is your magical age, really? Say, um, Genevieve, did puberty suck for you or what? Can I infer that? Yes, I think I can. I think I can correctly guess that the director hated becoming a woman and strives even now to pretend otherwise. And to do this, she went around filming other 11-year-olds, in many countries, of many colors and most disparate situations. Enjoy the Swedish aspiring rapper and the Thai elephant tamer and the Cockney boxer, Obey – yes, he speaks English and his name is actually “Obey.” Oh, and the girl who insists she’s gonna earn her MRS. In college. Ha! Where’s she from? New Jersey? Wait, she’s American. Now, I’m really embarrassed. Best kid was a down-to earth English kid Billy whose accent is so thick he needs subtitles. That’s rich.
The targets are good ones; this is an extrememly amiable group of kids. So much so, I feel like a jackass – I was a very sullen eleven-year-old. There’s also something about finding children who haven’t yet been crushed by puberty. Their innocence, 
undeveloped bodies and personalities are somehow angelic and charmingly naïve. I Am Eleven is like one of those Bill Cosby child interview shows except the comments aren’t as memorable (Adorable as Eleven is, I dare any viewer to quote anything in this film) and the interviews are on location instead of studio. It’s a well-meaning, but trivial, piece of fluff.
Good intentions mean nothing in the critic game. I’m pretty sure the people who made Noah intended to make a great epic of morality and entertainment. They made crap. Look, I’m giving you a rating that’s better than you deserve for two reasons 1) no matter how shallow, irrelevant or forgettable, your film is awfully cute. The decision to use only upbeat 11-year-olds was, indeed, a good one. 2) I saw three other awful films today (Más negro que la noche, Jimi: All Is By My Side and Tusk); I want to smile right now and although this is not the smile to end all smiles, it will do.
Watch Jiter, Fang, Ginisha and Kevin
Talk about future and family and heaven
Slight interviews
Ignoring the blues
All of these kids go to eleven
Rated G, 93 Minutes
D: Genevieve Bailey
W: HA!
Genre: Cute!
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Eleven year olds
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Sixteen year olds
