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St. Paddy's Day Melody

I'm pretty sure you can catch this show live at a tavern in Southie somewhere.

Is this me?

Saturday morning while getting dressed I had some cartoons on the television. A peppy ad came on for a Bratz-like line of dolls called "This Is Me". The advertisement shows a racially/ethnically diverse group of girls dancing around while the jingle bursts forth, "This is me! This is who I want to be!" The dolls shown, unlike the girls, are all white.

This Is Me (or TIM) dolls are marketed as a 'wholesome' alternative to the skanky Bratz dolls. The TIM dolls have outsized heads and eyes, along with glam fashion and makeup, without quite the same "crack whore" stench given off by the popular Bratz line. According to the This Is Me web site, there are ten dolls in the series. Only one of these ('Josie') appears to be non-Caucasian. Josie does not appear in the 30 second television spot, despite the diverse young girls singing, "She's just like you! She's just like me!"

As a child, I had dolls with different skin tones, so I'm not under the impression that playing with a doll indicates some fundamental truth about a girl's comfort with her own ethnicity. However, that TIM recognizes the increasing diversity in America when casting their commercial, but not when designing their toys, troubles me.

Everybody Break Loose!

In a current television spot for Foxwoods casino, a tired, schlumpy-looking couple unzips their grey outside skins to reveal wild, fun, glamorous inner selves, ready to party! The jingle declares, "Everybody break out! Everybody break loose!" as our wild and crazy pair... seat themselves at a slot machine. Wow! Look at those nutty kids! Don't call the cops!

Whenever I've seen slot machines, they're occupied by old folks with glazed expressions, usually with cigarettes hanging limply from their mouths, moving robotically. Little did I know that the one-armed  bandit is actually an X-treme indoor sport!

Friday Night Lights

Lately I've been watching Friday Night Lights on NBC. The show manages to use pretty much every sports film cliche, and the plot points are stolen from After School Specials: illiteracy, performance-enhancing drugs, bipolar disorder, racism. Most of these plot points are tied up rather quickly and neatly (racist coach saves black player's ass; illiterate jock gets tutor and learns to read; school slut has heart of gold). Still, I really enjoy the show. The cast is excellent, and somehow makes the material seem less like it's from a plot-a-tv-show kit. Kyle Chandler's performance is understated in a way that saves his coach from being either a brute or a punchline.  And if the characters do fall into neat categories, it may be because high school kids tend to be reduced to stereotypes pretty easily: cheerleader, jock, brainiac. The characters are pretty well-rounded, and we get them warts and all (although I've been wondering--if this is Texas, where the hell are the Latinos?) And, of course, there's the entire town's obsession with a high school sports team, something which is disturbing at the same time as the viewer herself is co-opted into the obsession.

Plus, I have mentioned my thing for nerdy boys, right? Matt Saracen's sort of stunned look as he finds himself the starting quarterback and he gets the girl--well, that's irresistible.

In fact, this is one of the shows that I like so much, I hope it doesn't get picked up for another season. Because if it does, the production team has to start finding ways to keep all the characters in one place and all their lives interconnected in ways that won't seem natural. If Coach doesn't take that job in Austin, I'll kick his ass.

Making Fiends

It's a couple years old, but I've only just found Making Fiends, a marvelous little series of Flash cartoons wherein Vendetta, an elementary school student with an "I vant to suck your blood!" accent, makes monsters. Meanwhile, oblivious, cheerful little Charlotte tries to befriend the nightmarish girl. (via Metafilter, which had discussed it previously, and via Boing Boing). Apparently you'll be seeing Vendetta making fiends and Charlotte making friends on Nickolodeon soon. Delightful.

And yes, I've got the theme song stuck in my head.

Heroes

I love Heroes--but I can see that turning to hate very, very quickly.

The hour-long NBC drama is clever, quick, and contains enough in-jokes to make any fanboy/girl smile. Sure, the opening/closing voiceover is nearly as unbearable as those of Grey's Anatomy (I say nearly because Sendhill Ramamurthy has a lovely voice). And I can't believe Marvel's landsharks haven't yet filed an intellectual property suit.

Among the things to love about Heroes is Hiro (Masi Oka), a charming, goofy fanboy who talks about his destiny, the heroic code, the heroic journey, etc., with all the seriousness of any goofy fanboy. This week, Hiro just about swoons when he finds out that in the future, he carries a sword. I'd love to hear how the show's producers convinced the network that one of the major characters would only speak subtitled Japanese. Bonus points: the only identification the cops find on him is a Merry Marvel Marching Society membership card.

Other elements are walking a knife's edge, and may at any moment plunge into uncool:
"Save the Cheerleader, Save the World" could either be a smug, ironic statement played for smart grins, or it could be really, really dumb.

And then, there's the supremely uncool baggage that Heroes has carried over from the comics medium: it's a feminist's nightmare. The two female characters with powers are, of course, Barbie look-alikes. Well, hell, it's network TV, we can work with that. Unfortunately, they're also powerless figures. Claire's power is to recover from any wound. This makes for some cool visuals and interesting plot possibilities; however, without adamantium claws and cigar, this power makes Claire merely the most efficient punching bag in history. Why, she can even be killed by a would-be boyfriend, and she bounces right back. Niki's power only kicks in when she's not herself-- when another personality has taken over her weak, female body. When left to her own devices, Niki survives by setting up a strip show web site-- her other half maims, kills, steals, prostitutes, threatens, and plots. Both of our Heroines have been sexually assaulted on-screen, and both have been left for dead. What pretty corpses-- they have only to be stuffed in a refrigerator to complete the picture.

So, yes, I do love Heroes-- but it's a guilty love, and it could burst at any moment.

The dubious joys of Rankin-Bass

I've just spent a week with toddlers, and those toddlers just got the DVD set of the "classic four" Rankin-Bass Christmas specials.  If I never see Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town (1970) again, it'll still be two weeks too soon.

Some of these have aged better than others. I think Frosty the Snowman (1969) has held up the best of the lot, which is kinda sad, since it's the only non-stop motion special, and the Rankin-Bass stop motion look is so distinctive.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964) is a close second for watchability.  I'm somewhat bothered by the fact that pre-pubescent reindeer are so focused on impressing the does, and also somewhat disturbed that girly Clarice is such a useless damsel in distress.  And then there's Hermey:  I know he's an elf, but why is he so fey?  Apparently I'm not the only one to wonder: a recent Metafilter thread points to the hilarious "Sixteen Serious Questions Raised by Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer".   Burl Ives is fabulous, though.

The Little Drummer Boy (1968) is just as dull as dishwater.

Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town is really tough to bear.  Particularly looking its age is a musical number in which Kris Kringle sings to children, "When you sit on my lap today, a kiss a toy is the price you pay."  Shudder.

My favorite Rankin-Bass Christmas special is the less-often seen cult-favorite, The Year Without a Santa Claus (1974).  Admit it: you love Heat Miser and Snow Miser, too.