Treasures Amidst the Trash
By James Lileks

If ever they defrost and re-animate the head of Walt Disney, it will be greeted by a long line of parents who wish to discuss his namesake network’s “Tween” programming. Aimed at girls desperate for the day they’ll stand around in a shopping mall and conspicuously adjust uncomfortable bra straps, the shows present the usual hip/flip/ironic/rock ’n’ roll paradigm as the default position for junior high life. Which, alas, it probably is. Kids don’t need the Disney channel to learn Hip; it’s in the air, and kids ache to absorb it.

 

Parents grind their molars over TV’s ability to make their children unhappy that they’re 12 and a half instead of 13. But kids’ programming today isn’t all bad. Raw and banal as much of it is, this is also a golden age. Thank cable. Thank computers. And thank Canada.

 

Boomers had gentle Captain Kangaroo while they were spooning in their Maypo, then Annette and the Mousketeers after school, consumed with Tang and Lorna Doones. Kids growing up in the ’70s mostly watched dreck pumped out by Hanna-Barbera. Cheap animation, banal stories, a stable of vocal talents that seemed to consist entirely of Casey Kasem and laugh tracks. The ’80s weren’t much better—the animation improved, thanks to the vast slave factories of Korean inkers, but the stories were merely loud kinetic inducements to buy action figures. Compared to the incomprehensible multiverse of the Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh that arrived later, Ninja Turtles and Transformers may be sedate, but in their day: Oy! Such commotion.

 

Then came computers, cable, and Canada. Then came Olie.

 

Or, rather, “Rolie Polie Olie,” the decade’s best little kiddie show. Created by William Joyce, a children’s author with a deft retro touch, the program (which debuted on Disney in 1999) follows a small robot boy and his family. There’s stay-at-home Mom, also a drummer and crack bowler; Dad, a genial tinkerer with an indistinct profession; little sister Zowi; dog Spot; a yee-hawby- jiminey Grandpa robot with dentures and a million stories; and Uncle Gizmo, a motorcyclist with a pompadour and an Elvis accent.Visually, the Polie family is made up entirely of circles (easy to animate!). The next-door neighbors from a foreign planet are all squares (for the same reason!). The music: 1930s “Little Rascals”-style jazz. The set design: streamlined ’30s American moderne.

 

“Rolie Polie Olie” is not about being hip. It’s about being a kid. It’s about as charming and kind a show as you’d want.

 

And it’s not alone. From the same studio—Nelvana, a Canadian house that pumps out gigabytes of stuff for Disney and other tot-centric channels—comes other computer-generated shows with the same ethos. “The Backyardigans,” airing on Nick Jr., features in operetta style the imaginary adventures of some animal tykes, with inexpert real-kid voices warbling out old songs to narrate the tales. “The Higglytown Heroes” are egg-shaped characters who amuse the eye without drowning it in pointless dazzle. These shows present stories, not commercials.

 

They’re all superior to today’s typical kid-fare, packed with stylized exaggeration, gross-out humor, and self-conscious satires on pop culture. Few adults can take more than two minutes of Nickelodeon’s recent offering, “The Fairly Oddparents,” a show stuffed with the now-familiar stable of stupid adults, crudely drawn characters, annoying voices, and tired references to Baby Boomer touchstones. Few kids can tell you what the cartoon is about—but they’ve seen the toys at Target!

 

Alas, my daughter, who loved “Olie” and “The Backyardigans,” has now moved beyond these shows. Why? I ask, fearing that the answer will be because they’re baby stuff, not hip enough, shy on booty-shakin’. But no: “Because I’ve seen them all a hundred times.” It’s true.

 

As nice as some of today’s children’s programming is, there just isn’t enough of the quality stuff. The food is good. But such small portions!