This is the kind of talk-down movie where, if a guy says, "How, me Big Chief Flying Eagle," a little kid has to pipe in and say, "But Native Americans don't talk like that; evil white settlers, who came and stole their land, made up that mock-langauge to ruthlessly and unjustly ridicule the Native American people," even if this precise line had been used thirty seconds ago to annotate another faux pas regarding Native Americans. Then there's the spineless parents who one would fully believe would say, "I'm sorry, son, it's my fault for not caring and being more involved with your life," if the child in question had just torched the house and maimed them with a machine gun. This is not to say there aren't redeeming qualities in this film. For instance, when a swarm of bees sting the badguys, and they jump around and hoot in pain, well, that's pioneering comedic genius in action.