Peter Sagal has a point. It’s certainly curious to anyone who cares about girls that the writers behind Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who decided to write in 96 girl characters just so their father could ignore them. In the scene introducing him, the Mayor sits at the breakfast table as his children revolve around him, each one getting a chance to sit next to dad. But when his only son — and oldest child and therefore heir to his father’s title in the surprisingly undemocratic Whoville — the sullen Jo-Jo, refuses to speak during his turn, the Mayor leaves the table — and his daughters — to go after his son.

Jen Chaney of the Washington Post made a similar observation about Pixar last year when Ratatouille came out. I agreed wholeheartedly with Chaney back then, and I was thrilled by her post and by Sagal’s, whose views aired on a larger platform in All Things Considered. A number of other blogs — and even newspapers, albeit in Canada — have picked up on his comments, and Sagal and the good folks at National Public Radio have also received a huge response; read Sagal’s reactions here and here and some of his analysis here.

The biggest criticism, apart from some ugly misogyny in response to Chaney’s post, seems to be “lighten up.” Yes, Horton is a kid’s movie, and a visually stunning one at that. But that’s the problem. Kids are being slyly and subtly shown that boys are the important children, that the A++ of one little Who girl pales in comparison to the whiny goth moods of her brother. It’s insidious, and it’s how little girls learn to admire princesses and other passive heroines instead of wanting to do things themselves, as the Mother Jones blog points out.

Then there’s the argument that boys don’t want to watch girl heroines. But that’s simply a symptom of the disease. Who would you rather watch, Lightning McQueen or the Bratz dolls? But think for a minute about how a female Nemo might have behaved or how easily Jo-Jo could have been the Mayor’s day-saving daughter, and you realize that that’s less of an argument than a cop-out. When girl characters are allowed to be more than tired stereotypes, movies can appeal to a broader audience. Have you seen Pan’s Labyrinth? It’s not a kid’s movie, but it is fantastic, beautiful, and intelligent. My boyfriend loved it; everyone I know who’s seen it loved it. Its hero is a smart, resourceful little girl, a character boys and girls could easily identify with. Incidentally, it was made in Spain, not Hollywood.