It is a difficult task to capture the love of reading. The moving action takes place between the book and the person who is captivated by the words on the page and drawn to unknown places. However, the brilliant minds behind Reading Rainbow have managed to contextualize what happens when teens open picture books and embark on exciting literary journeys. They have discovered that this can not only empower the reader, but also create a ripple effect in communities through the knowledge, imagination, and empathy conveyed. From its premiere in 1983 until its conclusion in 2006, the show served as a beacon for young people who were encouraged to explore beyond book covers and learn about the world around them.
Directors Bradford Thomason and Brett Whitcomb’s documentary “Butterfly in the Sky,” now available to rent and stream on Netflix, depicts how a few pioneering educators came together to create indelible children’s programming. Their tribute mixes relaxed, warmly lit conversational interviews with footage (raw home movies and on-air clips) and behind-the-scenes photos, taking us through the show’s story, its creative high points, and the uncontrollable factors that contributed to it. To its unfortunate demise. However, rather than reading it as short stories similar to those in the Emmy Award-winning series, this eulogy of ups and downs leaves us with a profound sense of loss, thanks to the bureaucratic monsters who callously rejected the series’ societal benefits.
Thomason and Whitcomb’s straightforward approach, bringing the past and present together, does not deviate too far from the path charted by previous documentaries that focused on early childhood development programs such as “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” (“Won’t You Be My Neighbor”) and “Sesame Street” (” Street Gang: How We Got on Sesame Street. However, their literal aesthetics allow the stories to emerge, as told by the creators at the forefront of this reading revolution. Series co-creator and executive producer Twyla C. Leggett, Ph.D., speaks to the camera in an elementary school classroom, while married co-creators and supervising producers Cecily Truett-Lancet and Larry Lancet appear surrounded by plastic tubs of videotapes in their living room. The interview environment gives the proceedings a tangible human touch.
Navigating through more than 20 years of a beloved piece of popular culture history can be a daunting challenge, but Thomason and Whitcomb convey why the show is so meaningful and impactful in the broader context of our ever-evolving civilization. Discussions over the casting of host and executive producer LeVar Burton lead to introspective reflections on the vital need for black male representation in the early 1980s. This effort toward inclusion also proved integral to the program’s children’s book reviewers, who spoke to similar-age audiences. Now their TVs can reflect their own thoughts and fuel their growing interests.
The documentary duo highlights the series’ many contributions that changed the landscape of television, as they explain that there were no educational programs at the time aimed at ages eight to ten. Some of the most poignant parts of this film focus on teaching compassion and kindness to these still resilient minds while watching in times of national crisis, with unflattering episodes about homelessness, poverty, war, and the devastating aftermath of 9/11. Attacks. Narrowing it down a bit, it also shows the ways in which being on the show has enriched the lives of the featured players, in a ‘where are they now’ follow-up style.
It’s not all serious stuff either. All in all, this is a happy testament to creativity. The adult staff were inspired to tap into their children’s inner imagination just as the children were watching. There is a treasure trove of humorous anecdotes behind the set of the show. Director Dean Parisot (“Galaxy Quest”) reveals the most horrific of what happened, which included the sound man losing his balance inside a bat cave and falling head first into a pile of worm-infested bat guano. Burton’s commendable willingness to try anything in front of the camera easily gives way to gorgeous montages showcasing his incredible feats, such as sawing off logs, diving, and, most dangerously, burying himself under a huge pile of golden retriever puppies. Plus, they provide a fun anecdote about Run-DMC’s appearance.
The filmmakers’ reverence for the series as an asset to educators and the broader public is evident, though its concluding act isn’t as hard to kill as it could be. They all very lightly touched on the irony of the No Child Left Behind law as the motivating factor for the show’s cancellation. While it’s nice that the answer to whether or not we’re worse off now without the show isn’t being spoon-fed by filmmakers, the crushing disappointment is that it’s no longer on the air, positively impacting today’s youth. , is clearly realistic.
Those who suffer from the absence of this programming are not necessarily book authors, who saw huge increases in sales when their titles appeared (in the initial Oprah effect), but rather new generations of children who no longer receive the additional enrichment necessary to emotional development. With reading proficiency and comprehension at a decline for years in the United States (exacerbated by the pandemic), Butterfly in the Sky provides a much-needed platform from which to evangelize about the legacy of the iconic series.