Wahlberg and Ted (voiced by MacFarlane) in Ted.

Wonders never cease. Who ever dreamed I could (or would, even on a dare) sit through a two-hour movie about Mark Wahlberg and a talking teddy bear? Or that I would (or could, even at gunpoint) possibly enjoy it so much? But here is Ted—a genre-screwing Donnybrook that defies description and guarantees, I swear, open-mouthed hilarity. It is refreshingly oblivious to the kind of political correctness that is going to be the death of us all. It is rude, raunchy and repellent to the point of almost being a send-up of the Farrelly Brothers, Judd Apatow, Adam Sandler and the rest of the ozone polluters giving movies a bad name. (Address your complaints to the nearest sewer.) It contains dialogue and depicts situations that cannot be described in a family newspaper—including the ones that are read only by the Addams family. It has nudity, profanity and X-rated detritus unsuitable for anyone with an I.Q. of 50. It is also creative, adorable, ingenious and devilishly, thigh-slappingly hilarious. Do not take my pulse. It must be the heat.

Boston, 1985. John Bennett, an unhappy 8-year-old boy and victim of school bullying, gets a teddy bear for Christmas. He kisses it, names it Ted, and vows to love it forever, making only one wish—that Ted could really talk. The next morning, when the neighborhood bullies are busy beating up the Jewish kids on Christmas Day, a miracle has turned Ted into a talking Pooh that becomes a national celebrity and a popular guest on Johnny Carson. Nobody can shut Ted up, including Seth MacFarlane, the multitasking hyphenate power player responsible for the outrageous animated TV sitcom Family Guy. He is the voice of Ted, and this is his feature-film debut as a director. I have never been a fan of the TV show, but among his other talents, Mr. MacFarlane has recently unveiled his secret passion for singing Broadway and movie show tunes and big-band jazz on a sensational new CD that has not left my player long enough to mix a fresh cosmo. His music is good, and there’s plenty of that, too. Whatever else you think of the movie, the soundtrack swings.

But I digress. Twenty-seven years pass, John grows up to be a 35-year-old Mark Wahlberg, and Ted grows up to be a potty-mouthed, pot-smoking, beer-guzzling, woman-chasing reprobate everybody would like to send back to any toy store that will take him. Ted does everything to break up John and his loyal, long-suffering girlfriend, Lori (Mila Kunis), but John is a grown man who still can’t sleep in a thunderstorm without his stuffed teddy bear. Lori doesn’t get a minute’s peace, even in bed. She even comes home from a lovely romantic anniversary dinner to find Ted entertaining four hookers, one of whom has done something on the living-room floor no maid will clean up. Forced to choose, John moves Ted into his own apartment, but the funny antics (contrived, I admit) are just beginning. A creepy guy with a humongous son who wants Ted for his own kinky nursery games stalks him in an ominous van. “Who was that?” asks John. “That was Sinead O’Connor,” says Ted. “She don’t look so good no more.”

The script bounces off the wall like a rubber Cassius Clay doll, while movie references abound. Ted talks like Little Caesar and takes bubble baths like cigar-smoking Edward G. Robinson. Jousting with sensitive subjects such as minorities and headline tragedies, flaunting convention in a determined effort to offend just about everybody, Ted (as the voice of Seth MacFarlane) mouths insults in the words of Seth MacFarlane (as the voice of Ted). In no time, you can’t tell one from the other. I ended up loving them both. The CGI Ted has digital features that morph into awesome expressions. He can look and act querulous, hurt, sensitive, impish or obnoxious, depending on the line. When the fat psychotic kid pulls his ear off, Ted yells “Back off, Susan Boyle!” But while you roar at Ted’s aside to the audience (“Someone had to go Joan Crawford on that kid!”) you can also feel the “Ouch!” Peace is restored when Lori saves Ted from his kidnappers, and Ted saves Lori from her oversexed boss, an A-hole who collects lurid artifacts like John Lennon’s glasses and Lance Armstrong’s testicles, “freeze-framed and bronzed.” There’s a guest appearance by an aging Sam Jones who played Flash Gordon, a Norah Jones concert where Mr. Wahlberg reverts to his old Marky Mark days and sings “The Love Theme From Octopussy,” and a vicious duck named James Franco. You had to be there.

In fact, most of Ted eludes description, analysis and explanation. You just have to hold onto your own certifiable sense of humor and let Mr. MacFarlane take you where he wants to go. Then get out of the way and enjoy it. Will it make you wince with embarrassment? That’s a promise. Will you also laugh? In double-time, like a Rockette. I don’t want to see a string of sequels about Ted, who has now worn out his welcome, like Bonzo. But one time around this summertime sandbox has left me cooled off, like a hydrant spray in a heat wave, and limp with laughter.

rreed@observer.com

TED

Running Time 106 minutes

Written by Seth MacFarlane, Alec Sulkin and Wellesley Wild

Directed by Seth MacFarlane

Starring Mark Wahlberg, Mila Kunis and Seth MacFarlane

3/4

Bully

Mr. Hirsch follows five examples of bullying over the course of one school year. The results are mostly sad, but sometimes enriched with hope, and always avoidable, inexcusable and unnecessary in a free and privileged society like America’s. In Murray County, Georgia, where 17-year-old Tyler Long hanged himself from a closet shelf, his classmates and neighbors and adult teachers and advisers wonder why such a terrible thing could happen to a bright, clean-cut member of their community. Tyler was sensitive, unathletic, and called a geek and a fag by the other kids until the psychological damage was irreversible. Victimized, teased and tormented until enough was enough, he just opted out in search of peace. “If there is a heaven,” says his bereaved father, “I know Tyler is there—and all I can do is have the faith that I will see him again.”

But the love of a parent is not enough. In Tuttle, Okla., 16-year-old Kelby is a lesbian who was run down by six guys in their parents’ minivan. She is also a remarkable girl who works every day to promote peace, tolerance and understanding in her community, but it’s an uphill climb. In class, walking to school, or trying to befriend other girls in her age group to stave off her loneliness, Kelby is an outcast. She’s not welcomed in church, she’s banned from the homes of a lot of people who have known her parents their whole lives, on the first day of school everyone in the room changed desks, on the basketball court nobody would play with her because they didn’t want to touch her. One of her teachers even told the class homosexuality is a sin and gay people should be burned alive. Since she came out, her loving and sympathetic parents have been ostracized by people they’ve known for years, and Kelby has tried to commit suicide three times.

In Sioux City, Iowa, 12-year-old Alex has big teeth, puffy lips, thick glasses and a loping walk. Not exactly the all-American boy, he tries to fit in, but he’s called “fish face.” When questioned by his parents, he just stares into space with shame. In Yazoo County, Miss., Ja’Maya, 14, a black honor student and winner of numerous medals and school trophies, decided to fight back. Carrying a gun to school, she waved it at the bullies on the school bus and was charged with 45 counts of felony for defending herself. Now freed from incarceration, her devastated, grief-stricken family still suffers the consequences in their hostile community. In Perkins, Okla., Mr. Hirsch visits the funeral of 11-year-old Ty Fields, whose death has given other students a reason to question their own sense of justice and shared responsibility and they publicly express their opinions. These are the very people with the most to gain from watching Bully. They are forbidden to buy a ticket of admission.

In all of these stories, the viewer is haunted by recurring questions of morality and human integrity: How did we as the citizens of the greatest nation of opportunity on the planet come to this charnel house of meanness, violence, cruelty, racism, homophobia, brutality and hate? Why do our children distrust and fear their peers just because they are different? Why do we place so much phony value on popularity? From sports events to the Academy Awards, all we care about is winners, and sometimes we resent even them. Children are afraid to go to school because they are not protected or safe there—two rights guaranteed by the Constitution. Parents are privy to only limited information. Faculty members are overworked and underpaid. Bus drivers can’t discipline bullies after school and keep their eyes on the road at the same time. Particularly disturbing is the case of Alex, a boy so lonely that he allows himself to be stabbed, choked, punched, kicked and his face to be slammed into the school lockers because his attackers are the only friends he has!

A few things are happening to encourage reform and eradicate this mockery of civilization. In Georgia, after Tyler Long’s suicide, his parents called a town meeting and nobody from the school board showed up. One school system official shrugged off the tragedy with “Kids will be kids, boys will be boys.” Concerned citizens don’t agree. Outrage is growing over the kind of apathy that ends in tragedy. Some parents are forming support groups by using the Internet to reach out to other parents across the country who have been through the same pain. In Murray County, Georgia, which gets the worst black eye in the film, activists are gathering in town squares and releasing balloons with the names of suicide victims. Nationwide, kids are taking a stand, organizing and setting plans in motion to counsel other kids who are being bullied. Movies like Bully are educational tools that should be shown in classrooms across America. It is cinematic and encompassing, without manipulation or sentimentality. Still, the plight of these kids left me deeply sympathetic.

The strong odor of a need for change is in the air. The crisis of bullying must end before more children surrender to the agony of despair. Reversing the irresponsible “R” rating of this movie is a good place to start. Meryl Streep, the American Federation of Teachers, Johnny Depp, Ellen DeGeneres, Anderson Cooper, Tommy Hilfiger, Justin Bieber, 20 members of Congress and the presidents of theater chains are just a few of the early supporters of Bully. “It Starts With One” is the motto and the rallying cry of this growing movement, and Lee Hirsch is certainly one who is making a difference. I endorse him and his brave, powerful movie and urge you to see it for yourself. You might leave Bully with rage, but you will not leave Bully with indifference.

rreed@observer.com

BULLY

Running Time 98 minutes

Written by Lee Hirsch and Cynthia Lowen

Directed by Lee Hirsch and Alicia Dwyer

Starring Alex, Ja’Maya and Kelby

3.5/4

If the crayon-yellow Brooklyn Children's Museum doesn't take you back to the golden days of popsicles, playgrounds and finger-painting, we're not sure what will.

The surrounding Brooklyn neighborhood of Childhood is the ideal place for families priced out of snootier Park Slope and Kensington. There's Brower Park, the children's museum (an easy out for parents who want low-key and air-conditioned summer entertainment for their kids) and tree-lined streets with quaint brownstones. Bounded by Nostrand Avenue to the west, Albany Avenue to the east, Eastern Parkway to the south and Atlantic Avenue to the north, Childhood is still quiet and diverse, unlike many of its BroBo competitors.

"It is quiet and it has the park so you can come and relax and bring the kids," said Hazel Matthews, a 69-year-old housewife who has lived in the area for six years. She was enjoying an afternoon in the park with her grandchildren. One of the kids (they all attend a nearby school), said he would describe Childhood as "fun, the best."

Brower Park has more than enough space to take your dog on a nice stroll and plenty of jungle gyms to keep the kids entertained. The neighboring museum has hands-on exhibits and collections for kids of all ages who want to engage in "learning adventures." (But beware of the museum's website; the creepy music and animated illustrations might scare your children out of wanting to visit.)

The museum got the seal of approval from one 6-year-old named Julia, who was playing outside of the park. She praised the make-your-own pizza room. Her father, John Demeny, a 40-year-old teacher who ventured out from Queens to take his daughter to the museum, also approved of the neighborhood.

"It's a great spot, it has a mellow vibe and lots of nice things for children," he said.

Just like in real life, Childhood isn't all rainbows and butterflies. Sure, the retail along Nostrand Avenue leaves something to be desired, with mostly Korean grocers and Jamaican meat patty shops. For those looking for relatively more refined retail, the streets of ProCro are close enough that those in need of a low-fat latte or good sushi need only walk the few blocks to Franklin Avenue.

That might be a good thing. Childhood has preserved its culture by managing to evade the invasion of hip coffee shops, upscale boutiques and expensive eateries. And that means the housing is cheaper, too. There aren't many other places in Brooklyn where you can snag a brownstone for less than $1 million.

As one resident put it, "It could be better, but it's not bad."

pengel@observer.com