Mozart and Friends Sleepytime

Mozart and Friends Sleepytime by Baby Genius is quite possibly the video equivalent of heroin. Designed for viewers age 0 to 48 months, the video is 37 minutes of Mozart's piano sonatas and chamber strings played over a wash of soothing images in dreamy slow-motion — the cumulative effect of which is a sensation of such complete and brainless bliss that it's hard to believe the tape isn't traded on street corners or passed quietly at Narcotics Anonymous meetings.

The video opens with two jerkily animated toddlers in graduation caps and gowns who introduce themselves as "Baby Geniuses." They explain that most brain development occurs within the first three months of life and in light of this, it's important to stimulate a baby's brain starting as early as possible. The images in the video, they say, are carefully chosen from things babies like to watch, including lots of other babies.

"Because babies love to watch other babies!" they cry gleefully — going on to explain the following video is presented in slow motion because slow things are easier for babies to understand.

"Babies love slow motion," one of the geniuses exclaims.

Whether or not babies love slow-motion, something about the following 30-minute montage sucks them in like candy. Immediately following the two Baby Genius graduates is a cartoon background over which floats a stream of what appears to be Microsoft Office clip-art: hobby horse, carousel, teddy bear (for some unknown reason) a red and blue Rubik's Cube, etc. The still frames gently rock back and forth as soothing piano notes prepare the viewer for the good stuff to come. After a minute of warm up, a simple wipe transition begins the heart of the video.

Unadorned footage of happy things follows: sail boats on clear days, kittens batting at toys, white puppies running through green grass, brightly colored tropical birds opening and closing their beaks, children playing with an assortment of different balls both outside and in what appears to be well-maintained daycare. Most soporific of all is time-lapse photography of flowers accompanied by chamber strings: waving fields of brilliant yellow daffodils on green stalks, roses opening and closing velvet petals to the sun, irises and daises, all bowing their heads and then opening themselves in slow glory. Bumble bees pick among the gorgeous blue petals as Mozart's dense strings swell and fill the ears.

While these images and music fascinate children, for adults the video is nothing less than euphoria on tape — like sinking numbly into a warm, comfortable dream or cherished memory. The footage bears a striking resemblance to home movies, so it's almost like watching some long lost moment of happiness, something intimate. It speaks to the hungriest parts of the adult brain. Adult viewers feel good watching Sleepytime because, while the slow-motion sequences are easy for baby to absorb, they are even easier for adults to consume. A sense of accomplishment settles in.

Easy satisfaction. The video does everything drugs should do without being illegal or hard on the body. A shallow hypnosis takes over, making it easy to zone out and fill the mind with blue skies, green grass, puppies, kittens, sail boats and flowers. The sequences featuring children might let in a few feelings of guilt or inadequacy, but they don't last long, and all the kids are happy, smiling, playing with the bright new toys a deadbeat dad could easily imagine providing. To the adult, the video is 37 minutes of pure idyll.

Then, as the bumble bee picks among the pollinated heart of a bloom, something irritating happens. A cheaply animated bee in the same style as the geniuses appears behind the real bee, bobbling up and down in a distracting manner until it finally rises off the screen, having killed whatever home-video fantasy the viewer was able to build in their mind, reminding them this is just a video for babbling infants.

These little bits of comic relief continue to mar the video, usually signifying a transition to another series of images which last just long enough to nearly build another fantasy, only to have it spoiled by the cheaply inserted clip art.

The animations also set the stage for the two computer-generated counting and alphabet sequences, which come as a real shock after the calming real-life footage, with no euphoria-supporting qualities whatsoever. Numbers appear on a seemingly endless black-and-white chessboard, bouncing toward the edge of the screen before being replaced by another puffy numeral in the distance. Even my 7-month-old son wasn't impressed by this high school production, choosing to gnaw on a toy rather than watch the screen that had held him prisoner.

The inclusion of these cheap number-and-letter sequences cause a parent to doubt the original intent of the video, as stated by the two baby geniuses: that simple images, especially other babies, and classical music will stimulate their child's brain.

The producers seem to have gotten nervous about the educational value of their video. To cement this insecurity, a disclaimer asserting that: Results from the use of this product shall vary from individual to individual and no guarantee is made with respect to the results or effects of the use of this product runs right below several Baby Genius-extolling blurbs on the back of the box.

This has to be true, because later videos in the series rely too much on stupid CGI characters and too little on the magical combination of classical music and dreamy slow-motion video footage. A tape called "Animal Adventures" featuring a tour through the San Diego zoo is a particularly sad failure of the company's basic premise.

If television is in fact the strongest drug known to humanity, then the Baby Genius Mozart and Friends Sleepytime video, despite its flaws, is 100 percent, tar-black, Taliban-era opium, available at a Target near you.

— James Stegall (james@sonewmedia.com)