Archive for category Childhood Revisited

SIMPSON CLONE ATTACK FORCE, Part 1 – Fish Police

It’s important to remember that The Simpsons’s popularity benefited from not only being genuinely funny, but also being on a burgeoning new network with some extremely interesting scheduling. The show had its origins on The Tracy Ullman Show and a wonky two seasons on FOX before it really hit its stride and purpose, becoming the hit that really kept the network churning. It was the perfect show that was literally at the right place at the right time. It pretty much grasped that perfect blend of adult humor, genuine pathos, and cartoony freedom. It understood itself. It understood its premise and characters and comedy, and especially, its heart. The Simpsons knew what it was aiming for, and for quite a while, consistently hit its mark.

It took a while, however, for creatives and executives to understand this. In the 90s, animation for adults was usually within the realm of underground artists and film-festival animators. (Most of the animators that went on to do TV shows were from that world – John K., Joe Murray, Matt Groening, Klasky-Csuepo, Mike Judge, and so on.) While Nickelodeon and MTV emphasized the weird in order to stand out in a unique way, CBS and ABC only saw animation as a “new” hit-making format (similar to all those questionable CGI movies that were released in the wake of Toy Story). Both networks rushed to produce their own adult animated shows, the former producing two of them.

In retrospect, the botched triad of Family Dog, Fish Police, and Capitol Critters is obvious and sad. The interesting thing is how and why each show failed, a lesson that paved the way (for better or worse) for the heavy-on-the-jokes type of animated comedies of Futurama, Family Guy, American Dad, and The Critic. Explicit humor was a must, de-emphasizing cartoon physics and focusing on verbal and visual quiet comic sensibilities. The jokes had to hit viewers in the gut, and Family Dog, Fish Police, and Capitol Critters certainly did not. It also doesn’t help that these three shows were generally boring, uninteresting, or blindly misguided – all in different ways. It’s fascinating to watch them again, and pin-point what doesn’t work, the few things that do work, and the aesthetics used to within that framework.

Fish Police

Fish Police – (1992)

Director: Rick Schneider
Starring: John Ritter, Megan Mullally, Ed Asner
Screenplay(s) by: Steve Moncuse, Jeanne Romano

Fish Police was based on a critically luke-warm comic series by Steve Moncuse that ran on-and-off from 1985 to 1991. It was an underwater noir of sorts, a semi-serious yet goofy comic starring talking fish, an idea you can get away with easily in the realm of comics and children cartoons. But taking that concept to prime-time network TV is clearly a product of desperation and insanity. It managed to do only six episodes before being unceremoniously canned.

Fish Police hosts, for some reason, a RIDICULOUSLY talented cast. John Ritter! Ed Asner! Megan Mullally! Tim Curry! Frank Welker! Buddy fucking Hackett! It’s clear all of CBS’s money went to casting, because it sure as hell didn’t go into animation or writing. Listening to such a cast half-ass their way through line-readings is heart-wrenching, knowing full well that everyone – especially Tim Curry – can do better. Hanna-Barbara’s animation is shaky and extremely unrefined; we’re talking Snorks level of wonky here. And the writing… well, it’s more like the show was ad-libbed around shitty, shitty plots.

John Ritter voices Gil, the lead detective that dresses like Dick Tracy but hardly has the balls to fit the man’s shoes. Gil is a nothing short of a whiny bitch, a flimsy excuse for what would pass as a policeman down in the brilliantly-named Fish City. Ritter is clearly in it for a paycheck. He has no enthusiasm or passion for his line-reads, and since he’s the lead, the entire show falls apart around him.

Ken Tucker of Entertainment Weekly called Fish Police an excuse to make fish humor. I WISH that’s what it was. In reality, Fish Police is about how everyone in the city has fucked or will have fucked the character of Angel (JoBeth Williams). This is it. Most plots and every joke is based on Angel being a slut. She loves to fuck, and boy, she will lavishly put her whore-dom on display. Everyone mentions how easy she is; yet, of course, Gil would never fuck her. They’re just friends. Wait a second – one episode implies they did fuck. No, says another episode, they did not. Who cares? Fish Police’s utter obsession on the fuckability of Angel is crass humor at its crassest. The first Angel-is-a-whore joke isn’t even kind of funny; the unrelenting running gag of it all is pure torture.

Fish humor and aquatic puns would at least be a welcome wink-and-a-nod to the show’s ridiculousness. Instead, it takes everything as serious as a show about aquatic animals as policemen and mobsters can possibly be, making it practically uncanny. Did people really watch The Simpsons and not understand its satirical, comic edge? Apparently. Fish Police rambles and shuffles its way through stories like a man on death row. It plays out like a show that was DOA since the beginning. When an episode portrays a local beauty pageant as the BIGGEST THING TO HIT A CITY, then there’s something seriously wrong here.

The worse thing is that Fish Police is just boring, and it’s boring in that lazy way Hanna-Barbara cartoons started to be before their Turner/Cartoon Network run of cartoons revived its energy. It’s kids humor masqueraded as adult humor. In Captain Caveman, a stupid pun is followed up with a facepalm, or an eye-roll, or a group of characters saying, in unison, the punchline. In Fish Police, a stupid sex or divorce joke is followed up with a facepalm, or an eye-roll, or a group of people saying, in unison, the punchline. Fish Police does little, content wise, to separate itself from its Saturday morning origins. I guarantee many of you probably would have swore watching this Saturday morning cartoon instead of airing in prime-time. Fish Police even has the audacity to include a cute creature as a sidekick; in this show’s case, it’s Gil’s badge – which is also a starfish.

Fish Police limps through its short 6-episode run with predictable, hackneyed writing, bad animation, grating voice-over work, and insulting humor. In other words, it ran 6-episodes too many, a sad, sad blot in the realm of animated TV. It was as bad as I’d imagine the world of Fish City to smell, just a boring, tedious maritime take on the hoariest of Law & Order plots. Thank god they put this out of its misery before they went and tackled something like fish rape.

Next week, I’ll be tackling Capitol Critters, so stay tuned.

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CHILDHOOD REVISITED – DUCKTALES

So, why aren’t we talking about Ducktales?

Think about it. We have blogs after blogs dedicated to Animaniacs, Gravity Falls, and Adventuretime. We  have large fanbases for Freakazoid and Tiny Toons. The cult followings of My Little Pony and Rocko’s Modern Life are quite sizeable. But the Disney Afternoon block of syndicated animated TV seems to be only mentioned in passing. We’ll say they were great, but never exactly expand upon them. Sure, the animated block didn’t end all too well – Bonkers, Quack Pack, The Mighty Ducks, Hercules, and The Emperor’s New Groove don’t exactly garner much enthusiasm (for valid reasons), but the Disney Afternoon’s prime of Gummi Bears, Talespin, Ducktales, Darkwing Duck, Rescue Rangers, Goof Troop, and Gargoyles more than makes up for it.

Ducktales was the pinnacle of the group, the only cartoon that produced more episodes past its initial 65 episode order, making it to the coveted 100 (including a wildly entertaining gem of a film called Treasure of the Lost Lamp, to be discussed later.) Ducktales was based on the extremely popular Donald Duck comics from the creative minds of Carl Barks and Don Rosa, two talented artists who gave life and story to some of Disney’s most memorable ducks, including Scrooge himself. Taking the comics to the airwaves was no easy task, but the animation team took it on, and created a truly timeless show for the ages. Why aren’t we talking about Ducktales? I’m not sure, but I sure have plenty to say about the greatest cartoon of all time.

Ducktales screeshot

Ducktales – (1987)

Director: Bob Hathcock, James T. Walker, Alan Zaslove
Starring: Alan Young, Russi Taylor, Terence McGovern
Screenplay(s) by: David Weimers, Ken Koonce, Jymn Magon

Ducktales is, at it’s core, an adventurous, epic saga of a rich duck going through hell and high-water to save his wealth and his family equally. This is important and I’ll touch upon it later, but Ducktales is primarily focused on telling interestingly pulpy tales of hidden treasures, mysterious natives, time travel, robots and ghosts and legends, through which Scrooge McDuck and his plucky nephews battle. Beyond this are the various factions and issues that someone like Scrooge would have to deal with – associative (like a rivalry with second richest duck Flintheart Glomgold), personal (like feeling too old to continue) and business (like securing a deal with the navy to build stealth submarines).

The raw energy and charisma of the characters keep Ducktales moving along at a fun, exciting pace, and each episode is rich with details and character moments. Each episode is also rather unique, given the freedom of the premise to explore any deliciously pulpy idea to fruition. Robots run amok? Sure! Mansions and castles with secret rooms? You bet! Sea monsters? Holla! Don’t forget aliens, secret spies, Amazonians, and superheroes.

For the most part, Ducktales has their stories and tales told so well and so passionately, while maintaining a sense of fun, adventure, comedy, thrill, mystery and drama throughout. “The Treasure of the Golden Suns” five-part premiere is the epitome of all that, a strong intro to various players in the show, as well as developing the kind of relationship between Scrooge and his nephews through out the series. I love how they pace their episodes, too, allowing 5-7 minutes of set up or backstory before jumping into the plot (“The Curse of Castle McDuck” for example). It’s rare to see something like that in cartoons, where the general rule seems to be maintaining momentum and action as much as aesthetically possible.

One of the things that most impressed me is how Ducktales delved into that relationship between Scrooge and his nephews. Huey, Dewey, and Louie are not annoying brats that find themselves getting into trouble like so many cartoons tend to portray their younger characters. They are PART of the adventure, characters that Scrooge truly relies on to help. He doesn’t simply want them around; he NEEDS them. It’s a creative sensibility that seems lost to most kids networks today. They tend to focus on kid characters being the solitary hero in a world of “mean” adults, or shows about man-children-like characters being silly to evoke laughter. Ducktales shows that kids simply want to be PART of the adult world, and when Scrooge says “me and the boys can handle this,” it feels empowering to a young mind. Adults needing a kid’s help? Adults talking to kids like adults? That’s a rarity these days, and Ducktales nails it.

This unique approach to relationships is not only limited to Scrooge and his nephews. Flintheart Glomgold is Scrooge’s rival, and definitely a villain in the truest sense of the word, but it’s a rivalry that’s more ego based, that could be applied to both of them. Scrooge loves to “shove it” into Flintheart’s face as much as he does to Scrooge. The beginning of “Robot Robbers” has Flintheart winning a bid to build a bank, and he shows Scrooge around the construction site to show off instead of ranting about his victory with maniacal laughter. It’s a rivalry in showmanship over destruction, a much more deeper protagonist/antagonist relationship than one would think. Similar relationships exist between Scrooge and Goldie, a romantic pairing that wasn’t meant to be.

You know how when you watch those cheesy films with the father who’s so busy with his work he neglects his family, only in the end he discovers what’s “really” important? Scrooge McDuck represents the follow-up story. Scrooge struggles between his real passion for his “family” and his real passion for his money. He tends to get quite worked up in his pursuit for wealth and treasure that he forgoes the safety of his nephews and even himself. It’s a really interesting and nontraditional dichotomy to see Scrooge play between the two forces of work and family; while family always wins in the end, Scrooge’s struggle with it is a surprising change of pace from most TV, let along animated fare. It’s the element that dooms Scrooge’s relationship with Goldie, when most shows would “ship” them almost immediately.

Ducktales emphasis on its adventurous spirit and perception of business and success overshadows the questionable aspects of an eccentric tycoon’s pursuit of wealth and the effect it has on Duckburg, society, and the safety of his family. While occasionally dabbling in the aftermath of its premise – like in “Down & Out in Duckburg”, Ducktales is primarily concerned with adventure, the fun of adventure, and the “education” in relation to working hard, tough, and smart. It is this cartoon taken to its logical conclusion. To ask Ducktales to explore its own socioeconomic ramifications would be like to have an Indiana Jones film explore the actually practice of archeology and it’s anthropological effect on the cultures he ingrains himself. (When it does, it usually is not good. “Trala La” is rare miss for the show – sloppy, out of character, and kinda offensive.)

The show itself doesn’t condescend or simplify its storytelling (well, not too often). I was always surprised to find surprisingly twisty episodes like “Merit-Time Adventures” and “Duckman of Aquatraz” defy typical whodunits and present surprisingly complex tales. They’re clever and manage to keep up the pace without too much “cartoon” filler. And they’re also surprisingly violent, with characters shooting guns, missiles, and torpedoes quite frequently. I’m kinda surprised Disney didn’t raise too much hell. (They didn’t have to worry about S&P since the show was syndicated.)

I much prefer Ducktales approach to self-awareness and meta-comedy than, let’s say, something like Animaniacs. Ducktales focuses solely on telling its stories and having fun with the characters through the storytelling to wink-and-nod to itself. Sometimes it’s a goofy aside, like when Ma Beagle yells, ” What do you think this is, a cartoon?” at one of her sons in “Robot Robbers”. And “Scroogerella” uses a feverish-dream framing device to insert the characters in a batshit insane retelling of Cinderella. The four part “Catch as Cash Can” saga (which I think is slightly stronger than the “Treasure of the Golden Suns” saga) opens the ridiculousness up on full display when Scrooge and Flintheart have to deliver ALL THEIR WEALTH across the world weigh it on a giant scale. It’s such an outlandish concept, even in the cartoon/Ducktales world, but the commitment to it is so palpable that you can’t help be be engaged.

(And don’t think Ducktales doesn’t have its own share of hidden naughty jokes. In “Status Seekers,” Scrooge attempts to downplay his adventurous, free spirit to fight into higher society. He even tries to join a group of blue-blood snobs that call themselves the Association of Status Seekers. Writer Jymn Magon confirmed that this indeed was on purpose – and what I love is how it doesn’t call attention to itself. It’s a quick verbal gag, only mentioned once, and not beaten into the ground. You either pick up on it, or you don’t.)

Ducktales is also a bit more cartoonier than I remember, which is good. It’s nice to see effecting animation tricks – characters flatten, character fight-cloud, smears and blurs and jawdrops, squash and stretch, and so on – and as mentioned before, TMS does it all with aplomb. In fact, TMS animates an insane, elaborate mine-cart sequence in “Earth Quack” pretty much for the sake of showing off. The voice work is top-notch, to, with Alan Young as Scrooge nailing the highs and lows of the character when needed. And there’s a bit of a continuity in the show; well, I guess they’d be more like callbacks, but they’re callbacks that are integral to the plot and characters. Gyro invents a bathtub time machine, for example; they use it several episodes later when they have to time travel. The only knock against the show’s production is their eventual switch from TMS to Wang Studios. Wang does okay work, but it’s definitely inferior to TMS, and Wang does make some serious visual errors from time to time.

In the end, Ducktales is a strong, exciting piece of animation television. It’s dramatic, adventurous, and hilarious at all the right points, and even with introducing new characters – like Bubba and Fenton Crackshell/Gizmoduck – the cast and crew brings a life and an energy to everything that keeps viewers young and old glued to the screen. Save for a few rough patches here and there, Ducktales is a strong argument that indeed cartoons were better back then (not that I agree with that fully, but it can be made). It holds up better than Scrooge’s own money bin, and that’s saying something.

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(NON) CHILDHOOD REVISITED – LOONATICS: UNLEASHED

Loonatics: Unleashed was probably the most misguided show on television – but not for the reasons you might think.

Loonatics Unleased

Loonatics: Unleashed was dead in the water even before it aired.

The public reaction to the show’s announcement and early character designs ranged somewhere between anger and offensiveness. The idea of taking the classic, beloved characters of the Looney Toons and “updating” them with angular body parts, an “extreme ‘tude” 90s aesthetic, and a random assortment of super powers had little chance of gaining any support, from neither adults nor kids. Loonatics: Unleashed seemed to be the product of unhinged hubris, a marketer’s desperate attempt to make Looney Toons somehow work in an era where the Looney Toons seem to be losing their relevance and cache. Space Jam does not age well. Looney Toons: Back in Action is sloppy and unrefined (save for an inspired climactic sequence). And the new Looney Tunes Show, while not at all looney, is simply met with a begrudging tolerance.

In these respects, revamping the Looney Toon characters could be at least partially understood. After all, they’re iconic and infamous, which means Warner Brothers could (and still can) exploit them for profit. But Loonatics seemed less like a show made by a creative committee and more like a show made by a machine, combining all the elements necessary to maximize an exploitable franchise, including toys, games, cereals, comics and trading cards. It’s anime-inspired and colorful and action-y, everything that usually works for the perfect male, 6-11 year-old demographic, who are egregious fans of your Ben-10s and Power Rangers. With this in mind, there’s a feasible logic to the whole thing, even if wiser men should have stepped before this got to the pre-production stage.

Here’s the funny thing: the universally despised “extreme” concept of Loonatics: Unleashed is completely different from the actual show. I expected a copious amount out-of-date, early-nineties cheese; what I got was the leftovers of unhinged creative insanity. It was like watching a human being’s decent into sci-fi madness; a six-year old’s unrestrained desire to see funny animal characters also kick ass. Loonatics ratchets up the crazy in every episode to comical degrees, like some kind of Post-Modern pastiche on science fiction. It would actually be a hilarious satire if it wasn’t so damn serious. The fact that the show tries to legitimize itself is what destroys it, which goes way beyond its ultra-cool premise. If the show WAS extreme/radicalized, then at least that would have been something. But Loonatics doesn’t even grant itself that benefit.

Loonatics: Unleased – (2005)

Director: Dan Fausett, Kenny Thompkins, Curt Walstead, Andrew Austin, Clint Taylor
Starring: Charlie Schlautter, Jason Marsden, Jessica Di Cicco
Screenplay(s) by: Rick Copp, Len Uhley, Steve Cuden

Witness the first eight minutes of the first episode of this amazement:

Loonatics showcases a futuristic world with no rhyme or reason, then hurls a glacier onto it. We then see our titular characters crack wise in the safety of their home. The scene is odd since it would have been smarter to introduce them flying to the glacier instead being oblivious about it. But we see Ace meditating for some reason (an act he never does again) and Lexi skipping into the room listening to a music player, because WOMEN AMIRITE. Danger Duck kinda acts like his Daffy doppelganger, so we’re kinda in decent company, until some woman appears on the big screen named ZADAVIA. You will always cringe when you hear that name, since at this point your brain is trying fill in cracks that don’t even exist. Then the intro kicks in, involving some meteor striking not-Earth/the city-planet (what?) of Acmetropolis (WHAT?) – and it only gets more batshit from there, when they confront the glacier, which was conjured up by humorless alien robot ice Vikings. I can’t make any of this up. And can you believe that this meteor thing is part of a stupidly convoluted intergalactic conspiracy? In other words, why did they put in the work to give Loonatics a mythology?

The Loonatics themselves (who are actually descendants of the original cast – as if this would absolve the creators of their updated bullshit) host a surprising array of special powers, which are rarely used in any practical way. With their abilities you’d imagine these guys could kick everyone’s asses, but they utilize them in haphazard, frustrating fashion. Ace is a hilariously inept leader, who often splits the team into groups that completely make no sense. Badguys, in particular the first season, are exposition-ranting dead-weights, with little to no comic sensibility, and if Loonatics needed ANYTHING, it was comical villains. In fact, that first season limps along with a questionably serious veneer, of awkward attempts to place its action in mature context; a sincerity that would be hilarious if it wasn’t so bizarre. Duck is mainly the comic relief, and kudos to making him a decent fighter as well, but Loonatics desperately seems like it needs more humor than that.

It is exactly more humor that Loonatics receive in the second season, along with a less sharp-edged look. The show tries to be a bit more comedic here, as well as plopping more Looney Toon character cameos into the mix (the fact they did this so rarely in the first season adds to its inexplicable set-up). The problem is that the very premise of Loonatics dulls the humor in its tracks. It makes the crew look stupid instead of goofy. Comedic moments are forced and dumb and only occasionally well-timed. It also doesn’t help that a number of the cameos are just fucked up. Pepe and Foghorn are humans. Porky and Sylvester and Elmer are “complex villains”. Only Yosemite works in any context. More problematic is that the second season is incredibly lazy, with some terribly animated scenes, inexplicable cuts, poorly-done storyboards, and half-assed writing; not that any of this was great to begin with, but it’s depressingly worse here.

There is one legitimately great thing about Loonatics: Tech E. Coyote. Danger Duck has his moments, but Tech is overall genuinely fantastic. He’s a genius and knows it, and often shits on everyone else because he’s smarter than them. He’s also a decent fighter and is the only one with a real backstory. He’s also has the best character design in the show’s style, and has the best “voice” with Kevin Michael Richardson. It’s hilarious because the writers of the show KNOW he’s the best, inserting him liberally into every scenario, whether it should involve him or not. In fact, Duck and Tech are forced into everything since they tend to be the only characters that can be played with in any fun way. Everyone else is weak, boring, or useless, including a sadly under-utilized Rev and a waste of a talented Rob Paulsen.

Beyond Tech and Duck, Loonatics limps along in an entertainment swamp reeking of desperation. Outside of scarce moments of inspiration, Loonatics pretends to be edgy or cool but doesn’t actually TRY to be edgy or cool, leaving a messy, inexplicably complicated overarching plot that belongs in another story. In fact, I would wager that Loonatics caught the Caprica virus – a show that meant to be something original, but was bit by the executive virus, morphing into the bastardized Looney Toon characters that graced our presence. If there was any creative enthusiasm for the show in the beginning, it completely evaporated by the final ten episodes.

Loonatics ends with the Loonatics fighting off an evil bass player who built a cosmic guitar that can create intergalactic wormholes – a bass player who created a criminal holographic funk-band voiced by an actual Parliament Funkadelic band member – motivated because the leaders of the planet (of which he’s from) didn’t let his song become the national anthem. The battle ends a life-long feud between Zadavia and her brother, fighting off their traitorous General Deuce, which allows the Loonatics to be protectors of the universe. This is Loonatics in a nutshell – an overly insane series of ideas without the wink-and-a-nod humor necessary to make it palpable (like, say, The PowerPuff Girls). In the end, Loonatics Unleased seems to be made… well, for lunatics.

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