'Batkid Begins': Firms muddle feel-good theme

Near the close of Batkid Begins, a documentary about a large Make-A-Wish event, we're told "there is nothing negative" to say about the special moment.

And I'll admit, it does present a challenge.

This is a movie, after all, about tens of thousands of people, mostly volunteers, transforming a part of San Francisco into Gotham City to fulfill the I-want-to-be-Batman wish of a 6-year-old leukemia survivor. The Batman-for-a-day production is creative and elaborate. The opera company, for instance, works overtime to make costumes for the Penguin and the Riddler.

But let me play the role of another villain: the Quibbler.

Batman Begins should be (and hopefully will be) a way to call attention to the good people at Make-A-Wish. The organization fulfills 40 wishes a day for sick children, and it can use all the attention and funds it can get.

At some point, though, we notice Batkid Begins is also a way to call attention to other parties, massive Silicon Valley corporations that jump on the Batkid bandwagon - including Apple, Twitter, Facebook and, most suspiciously, Uber, which is mentioned several times in the film, and contributes one abortive ride on a crowded street (no word on surge pricing).

Now, there's nothing wrong with Make-A-Wish's leveraging the donated expertise of nearby tech firms. But do we need the Twitter guy in charge of the live feed gushing about the personal response he got from President Obama?

During the film, we see an event created to make a child feel awesome become a way for observers to feel awesome, and to talk about how awesome they feel, often on social media. And there are a few uncomfortable moments in the film when it seems like the desire for participants to feel good conflicts with the child's well-being.

The little guy often seems overwhelmed to the point of fright, and handlers sometimes seem annoyed that he's missing a cue (look to the right, Miles!).

I defer to the boy's parents, who say all was and is well. (But note that they pull him out of the spotlight as soon as they can.)

I'm certain Mom and Dad are grateful for the Silicon Valley corporate energy. There is, however, an example in Batkid of another way to go about things.

Miles' father, a small-town farmer, takes time from his work to help his son weather steroid and chemo treatment. Other farmers, we learn, volunteer to harvest his crops, rotate the irrigation pipes, keep him on schedule and above water.

We don't know their names.

Probably because they don't want us to.

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