We here at DadWagon won’t know the answer to that until after this weekend, when the documentary about four LOs from across the planet actually opens. That’s assuming we can all get sitters, of course.

But in the meantime, there are reviews! Such as this one in the Village Voice:

Babies offers little in the way of context. It’s pretty much just straight-up babies, all the way through. Adult dialogue is untranslated, and parents mostly hover just on the edges of the frame. Balmes gets a little mileage out of the disparity between Namibian Ponijao lying in the dirt, sticking bones in her mouth, and little white Hattie singing Native American chants in her San Francisco music class. But for the most part, the strength of Babies is the way it babies babies babies babies babies universality babies babies babies, babies babies babies miracle babies babies.

The Huffington Post, meanwhile, asks “Sure they’re cute, but what’s the point?”:

Babies seems like “Baby Einstein” minus the toys, or the Elmo’s World “Hello, Baby!” segment minus the funny furry guy. All that’s left is a study in emotional manipulation in four different languages. How can you tell the difference between something moving and something manipulative? Moved audiences gasp and say, “Wow.” Manipulated audiences mile and say, “Awwwwww.”

And some other Website writes:

Babies is not for everyone — it’s a slow, contemplative piece of anthropology, and those of us who have trouble slowing down (I am guilty here) will find themselves fidgety at times. But it’s also the kind of film that has what I’ll call a Doppler impact — it comes slowly at first and then, after walking out of the theater, the cumulative power of it gobsmacks you.

Finally, there this review of “Iron Man 2,” the movie I think I’d rather see, also in the VV:

Babies “Babies” babies babies babies? Babies babies babies. Babies babies babies babies babies—babies babies babies babies babies babies babies babies babies babies. Babies babies babies babies babies.