Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Hey Sandy
Hope you all had a good Christmas. I know I did.

I received plenty of nice gifts (Marx Brothers DVD set~; Monty Python tapes~; lots and lots of books~), but I'd have to say that the gifts I'm enjoying most right now are the season 1 and 2 sets of The Adventures of Pete & Pete.

We all know that there's a funny thing about certain shows... about how they only get better as we get older (more experienced in life would probably be a better way to put it). Pete & Pete is definitely one of those shows. I watched a few episodes last night, and, wow, maybe it was just one of those perfect moments where the planets are in alignment (and where said alignment doesn't result in mass turtle exodus to the Galapagos Islands for a little something something), but I really couldn't imagine enjoying a TV show much more than I did watching Pete & Pete.

This morning I sat down to write a regular Christmas post, detailing what I got, what I did, and whatnot. However, when I sat down, I instead started wondering about just why I seemed to like the show so much more now. Not that I didn't like it when I first watched it, but I was always more attached to Salute Your Shorts when it came to the live action shows (Clarissa Explains It All, All That and Are You Afraid of the Dark? were a step below, for me) and much more attached to the Nicktoons because, well, kids + cartoons = yay.

Normally I would say that the main reason shows like Pete & Pete get better as one gets older (or more experienced, whatever) is that the viewer just gets more of the jokes. Like any other great show, that's definitely true of Pete & Pete: There's more than enough there for the show to hold its weight with the Little Petes of the world but there's also a lot for the Big Petes, Ellens, Moms, Dads, etc.

But thinking about it a bit more, I see the appeal of the show running deeper than that. Age and experience does not just put a fresh spin on the jokes; it puts a fresh spin on everything. Pete & Pete is special to me because it's written and made in such a way that it evolves as you evolve. In each member of the Wrigley family (and to a lesser extent other characters such as Ellen, Nona, Stu, etc.) is someone with whom the viewer can identify as his or her point of view in life changes, while he or she also retains the memories and feelings of the earlier stages of life. With age comes more ways of seeing and experiencing each episode. At least, that's the way I look at it.

(Right now is where I'm hoping that this post isn't sounding too academic... lol.)

There's one moment in the "King of the Road" episode that I believe perfectly encapsulates those changing points of view. It comes when Don Wrigley makes a pit stop at that picnic area during the annual family vacation to Hoover Dam. Soon after the Wrigleys arrive, another family makes a stop there. They get out of their car, looking perfectly happy and content; not only do they have a kickass stack of luggage on the roof of their car, but they're also making great time. The reactions of the three guys to these usurpers is perfect to me:

- Dad's none too pleased to see this arrogant jerkoff waltz in to the pit stop acting as though he is the true king of the road. Obviously such a thing cannot possibly be tolerated, so good ol' Dad rushes his family back inside the car and puts the pedal to the metal.

- Big Pete's eyes are immediately drawn to Mr. Perfect's eldest daughter. She gets some nice lighting and a slow motion breeze through her hair because she's super hot. I can't say I disagree with Big Pete's taste in women. Big Pete then turns on the family and dares to actually approach the enemy in a friendly manner.

- Mr. Perfect's youngest daughter locks eyes with Little Pete and smiles shyly at him; Little Pete returns the gesture by narrowing his eyes in suspicion, and you just know he's thinking, "What's this girl's problem?"

I was about 4 when the 1-minute Pete & Pete shorts began airing, around 6 or 7 when the 30-minute specials appeared and 8 when the series proper began. Little Pete was definitely the character I identified with most those many years ago. As it relates to "King of the Road," I don't know that I would have been suspicious of Mr. Perfect's youngest daughter, but Big Pete's attitude toward the guy's eldest daughter surely would have baffled me. I was far from a "zomg girls = cooties" kind of kid; however, I was pretty apathetic to them in general, outside of the cool few who were my friends (or was it I who was cool enough to be their friend?). My first real crush was still a couple of years away. :P

Now of course I'm solidly in Big Pete territory (aside from me being about 7 years older than him >>;). Though I like the occasional road trip, taking the same trip year after year would eventually suck the life out of me. Singing road songs, playing roadkill bingo - not my thing, man. Also, I too would probably forget every member of my family the second Mr. Perfect's daughter stepped out of that car; of course, I'd also be hoping that everyone would forget me, too, following my spectacular failure to attract the attention of Mr. Perfect's daughter in a way that didn't establish me as her amusing puppet boy.

So, yeah, watching the show now, I feel as if I can better connect with the stories, because I can watch them from the experience that comes with currently being in Big Pete's shoes and from the memories and feelings I have stored from the Little Pete years (side note: That's probably the geekiest sentence I've typed this month; go me). It's like reading a story and then reading again from a different point of view. You get the same story, but at the same time it's not the same, because all of the little things that come along in life give one a unique view on life, unless you're some sort of evil, human-hating robot. Then there's just no saving you. Soulless metal bastard.

Anyway, branching off that (the unique view of the characters, not the evil robot stuff), what really adds a real punch to it is how utterly absurd and surreal the world of Pete & Pete is. Honestly, it's a far more truthful way of approaching the subject matter than playing it straight could ever be.

Look at this way: You're in 2nd grade; it's the middle of the afternoon, and your class is going out for a bit of dodgeball during P.E. What happens from an objective point of view? You go into the middle of a circle, kids throw dodgeballs of varying sizes at you, and you either avoid them all or you get hit. If you get hit, it hurts a bit, but not too badly; when you get hit, you're out of the circle. Not the most traumatic of events, eh?

But that's not how you see it when you're in that circle. The dodgeball circle is a war zone, a hellish, godforsaken pit of nastiness straight out of Saving Private Ryan. Balls are flying in from all directions; they come one after the other, and it's not always possible to tell where the next one, maybe the deathblow, will be coming from. The screaming of bloodthirsty children is a constant echo, a cacophonous shriek in the ears, and the war cry keeps on going until at last you're struck with the ball. And when that hit comes, it doesn't hurt so much outside as it does on the inside; you wanted victory so bad you could taste it. But there's nothing to do except sulk out of the circle and take your frustrations out on the next poor sap who thinks he or she can survive the slaughter.

The experiences that the surreal reality of Pete & Pete offers are like that. What's really happening isn't much of anything. When Big Pete first walks into shop class during "Tool and Die," there isn't actually much in the room besides a few kids sitting at their desks with the light whir of power tools sounding off in the background. But Big Pete immediately senses the sinister underbelly of shop; he knows that the saws are practically licking their chops for a chance at one of his tasty limbs. He knows that whatever Mr. Slurm is having him build, it's not something pleasant. And he knows that there is no more useless construction than the spice rack.

How many of us, when we really see something, see only what's there and nothing more? Not many of us (I hope), because what is right in front of our eyes often does not make a damn bit of sense. We see how bizarre and absurd the world often is, and we concoct fantasies and exaggerations to somehow explain just what the fuck is happening. Pete & Pete is all about that. The International Adult Conspiracy; paranoia in shop class; Mr. Tastee's secret life; and everything else. The kids (and to a lesser extent the grown-ups) see these things to help make sense of the strange world of Wellsville.

Isn't that what we all do? We all have our own Wellsville, some stronger than others, and our Wellsvilles are populated with our Endless Mikes, Orange Lazaruses, and phone booths that ring continually for 27 years. Why not? It's not as though reality makes much more actual sense. Sometimes it makes even less sense. But that's what our imaginations are for - to make sense of the senseless. Pete & Pete understands that, and God do I ever love it for that.

I'm tired right now, and I don't actually have much more to say, so I'll just leave you with a recounting of one of my favorite bizarre visual gags from the first season of Pete & Pete:

In the episode "Rangeboy," Big Pete speaks about how the story of his identity as a range boy will spread like wildfire if it is ever revealed. To visualize this idea, Pete conjures up the "Gossip Horn," after which the camera cuts to a teenage girl holding a conch shell up to her lips, blowing into it, and then, with a look of utmost seriousness on her face, pointing forward dramatically. It's just so out there that it cracks me up every time... the use of the conch as the gossip horn is what really gets me though. It's very Lord of the Flies.
Comments (2)