For some
reason or other my dad always found time to read the comics to me when I was
little. Or at least that's how I remember it.
Quite possibly he didn't always have time, maybe sometimes my mother
read them to me, but my memory of being ages 4-7 or so, after I learned to
follow a story from day to day, but before I began to be able to read them
myself, is of sitting on my father's lap while he pointed to each word balloon,
thought balloon, or caption, and read me through every wonderful bit of Pogo, Peanuts, Steve Canyon, and Rip Kirby, and every dumb and bland
second of Beetle Bailey and The Family Circus, variously in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette, Cleveland Plain
Dealer, Youngstown Vindicator, Toledo
Blade, and Detroit Free Press as
work dragged him around the Midwest*. I'm not quite sure when or where he acquired
his comics habit. He's still around. I'll have to remember to ask him. But he
was a big fan of the comics in general as well as of particular comics.
I'm talking
about the daily and Sunday newspaper strips here; Dad regarded comic books with
considerable suspicion and my mother was pretty blunt about discouraging any
interest in them. Ma was neutral-to-favorable on newspaper strips; Dad adored
them and shared them with me, so that even today, on the rare occasions when I
pick up a newspaper, that's almost always where I turn first and very often all
I read.
If I started
listing the strips we liked and what we liked about them, well, that would be a
whole long blog post right there, and what I'm actually trying to do here is
take a little break before plunging back into Singapore Math Figured Out for
Parents, which is progressing nicely, thank you, and needs to progress its way
off my desk and into the market, but I'm a wee bit burned out right now. So
let's cut right to it: one strip Dad and I both loved was Little Orphan Annie, which had already been around for decades at
that time (in fact for several years before my father was born).
Annie was the
quintessential Adventurous Kid with Backup, a type that I'm a bit surprised I
can't find in TVTropes.** She was a
perpetually something-less-than-16-and-something-more-than-10-year-old orphan,
and the ward of Oliver "Daddy" Warbucks, gazillionaire munitions
maker.
The basic plot
of most Annie sagas began when one way or another she and her faithful dog
Sandy were forced out of the protective embrace of Warbucks Manor. Daddy would
go off on a business trip and someone would toss the kid out on the street,
she'd be in a plane or ship that crashed, she'd get kidnapped, she'd run away
because someone was threatening her to blackmail Daddy, it pretty much didn't
matter what the pretext was. She'd be unable to get back to Warbucks Manor
right away for some equally hokey reason, apparently never having figured out
how to reverse charges on a long distance call. Then she'd get involved in some
way of working her way home that would connect her into the lives of ordinary
people, who generally liked her guts and smarts (and never happened to notice
newspaper stories about missing orphan, huge reward). Inevitably
it would turn out that these good
ordinary people were being oppressed or menaced by gangsters, Nazi agents,
Communist spies, drug lords, crooked union thugs (Harold Gray, who created the
strip and wrote it for more than 40 years, was somewhere to the right of
Herbert Hoover), or whatever.
Bravely and
pluckily trying to stand up for the common people herself, Annie would get in further and further over
her head. Then just when it looked like Annie was doomed and Sandy was fated
for medical experiments, Daddy Warbucks himself would show up with one of those
private armies that gazillionaires have waiting around to rescue orphans.***
Or, slightly more often, Punjab or The Asp, Daddy's Indian and East Asian
(respectively) bodyguard/fixers would turn up and work some combination of
martial arts and mysterious magic of the East type stuff. Then Annie would go home to count her trust
fund for a week or so before she'd be off on another adventure.
Annie wasn't
the first such character and she surely wasn't the last. She has close cousins
and/or linear descendants in Tom Swift Jr., Jack Armstrong, Trixie Belden,
Jonny Quest, Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Tintin, Huey-Dewey-Louie, and Kim
Possible,**** just to mention the ones I'm acquainted with and can think of off
the top of my head. The basic brew for "Adventurous Kid with Backup"
is that the boy or girl is:
• old enough to get away on his or her own,
•moderately improbably skilled; not a superhero but definitely an early Eagle Scout
•possessed of limitless luck&pluck and a do-or-die attitude
•supported by a usually invisible but very real gigantic backup team
• old enough to get away on his or her own,
•moderately improbably skilled; not a superhero but definitely an early Eagle Scout
•possessed of limitless luck&pluck and a do-or-die attitude
•supported by a usually invisible but very real gigantic backup team
Now, when I
was a little kid, Annie was about as comforting a story as there was, at least
once I caught the basic rhythm and understood that Annie and Sandy always found
their way home, safe and sound and apparently without PTSD. Just when things
looked awful Punjab would burst through a wall, or The Asp would walk into the
room having silently knocked out twenty goons, or helicopters with the Warbucks
logo would descend. Annie's combination of good heart and common sense and
courage got her as far as it could. Then just at the moment when it turned out
the Forces of Evil really were too big for a small girl and her dog, the craft,
power, strength, wisdom, whatever was needed, of the most important adults in
her life would come in and straighten it out. She'd go home a bit stronger,
having left the world a bit better off.
For the
moment, I'm going to slip right on over all the sort of normal complaints about
older pop culture. Annie was pretty advanced for its day on the gender front,
had some African American characters who weren't particularly stereotyped and definitely not helpless, but
also stereotyped the hell out of Asians and a whole host of other people who
came up on the crappy end of colonialism. As mentioned before, in the class
war, it was solidly and unequivocally on the wrong side. And anything to do
with hetero-, homo-, bi-, or any other sexual feeling was invisible. So let's
start right off with saying that a modern day reader is more than likely to
have some problems with it.
Nevertheless,
I think Annie, and the other Adventurous Kid with Backup stories, offer
something we don't see enough of in modern pulp culture: the kind of comfort
children traditionally find in a fairy tale. I'm thinking here of the sort of
thing Bruno Bettelheim wrote about in The
Uses of Enchantment.***** In that marvelous defense of fantastic literature
for children, he talks about Sleeping Beauty as an assurance to girls that yes,
someday, something will happen connected with being a woman (as spinning flax
assuredly was in the culture where the story comes from), and then you'll
bleed, and fall into a kind of sleep where you're not yourself for a long time,
and then eventually wake up into the adult world of love. Or that Hansel and Gretel indicated that yes,
when you set out into the adult world too young, and with poor control over
your own feelings and appetites, certain cruel and old people may seek to
devour you, but you don't have to give them what they want -- they can be
tricked and you can defeat them. Or that Rumplestiltskin has something to do
with your first sexual experiences: a secret that first makes you feel like you
do the impossible, but can steal your whole life unless you can guess its name.
In The Red Angel, G.K. Chesterton said
something which has been quoted, paraphrased, and re-paraphrased a great deal;
I'm going to give it in longer form here so that we can get a little context:
Fairy tales, then, are not responsible
for producing in children fear, or any of the shapes of fear; fairy tales do
not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child
already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child
his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear
idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately
ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St.
George to kill the dragon.
Exactly what the fairy tale does is this:
it accustoms him for a series of clear pictures to the idea that these
limitless terrors had a limit, that these shapeless enemies have enemies in the
knights of God, that there is something in the universe more mystical than
darkness, and stronger than strong fear.
and not much
farther on, he says something that as a sometime fantasist and sometime writer
for kids I believe with all my heart:
At the four corners of a child's bed
stand Perseus and Roland, Sigurd and St. George. If you withdraw the guard of
heroes you are not making him rational; you are only leaving him to fight the
devils alone. For the devils, alas, we have always believed in. The hopeful
element in the universe has in modern times continually been denied and
reasserted; but the hopeless element has never for a moment been denied.
Well, let me
project back on my five or six year old self what all this has to do with
Little Orphan Annie, and her cousin Jonny Quest:
I think there's a deep and wonderful message
for a kid in such fictions, because what they say is that
you will go out into the bigger wider world,
you
will make your own way and make friends there,
you
will encounter some big bad things too,
when the time comes, you will struggle against the big bad
things
and they may very well be bigger than you,
BUT ...
the whole might and power of the righteous adults can come
in to save you if need be. You are not
alone and you are never truly abandoned.
Who needs to
hear that?
Kids about the
age I was when I fell in love with Little Orphan Annie. (One thing I know for
sure, it wasn't her eyes ...)
Kindergarten, first grade, that age where
they're going to spend hours a day away from parents, with other adults, among
peers. When they're going to form their
first independent friendships, and find out about the ogres that are bullies,
and the dragons that are adults who don't like them or want them to succeed,
and a world that is wonderful and promising but also unfair and discouraging. And
what those stories said to kids that age was, go out, be fearless, handle as
much as you can. And if the dragon is too big, sound the horn or blow the
whistle or ... to get back out of the metaphor range ... tell a trusted adult.
It's not yet
time for "Kid, you're on your own."
That comes later, maybe at the Heinlein juvenile stage. But it's also
well past the age when "If the crazy masculine force you found in the
woods devours the nurturing feminine one (or in plainer terms, if a big old
hairy wolf gets into the bed and eats grandma), you can be rescued by the
controlled and clever masculine force of the woodman" (Red Riding Hood
doesn't do anything more than talk to the wolf, which she's not supposed to do,
and run for help).
The
Adventurous Kid with Backup story is the middle step: go out and handle all you
can, and the adult world (or to use a term I don't much like, The Community) is
there when you really need it. Go out into the world as brave as Spaceman Spiff
or Annie, stand up to the bully and the ogre and the Fang Tooth Tiger, defeat
them yourself if you can, and if not, Oliver Warbucks, Race Bannon, and St.
George will be right along to kick the monster's ass. There's an age that story
is just right for (just as there's a just right age for Cinderella or The Great
Gatsby).
So, back to
Annie: this is why, although I love musicals and Annie has some great numbers
in it, I've never really liked the stage musical much. In that version, Oliver
Warbucks is a lonely old sad man -- basically Scrooge -- who adopts the kid
because she's cute (and on the advice of his PR manager). After that, Annie
turns out to be the Positive Thinking Moppet of the Year, and in a complete
denial of Harold Gray's original plucky little capitalist-to-be, ends up
teaching Franklin Roosevelt about ebullience and happy-warrioring and sticking
out that noble chin.
In the stage
musical, the Broadway version of Annie actually does very little. She's the perpetually
intercepted football that sings Tomorrow while she's shuffled around on the
chessboard in a blizzard of chopped metaphors. I'd seen several stage
productions (a theatre guy in the last few decades could hardly have avoided
it, and I wasn't trying), usually liked the singing and dancing, and let the
plot (and the kid is so cute that everyone loves her and they become so happy
it stops the Great Depression) pretty much drift on by.
That, at last,
brings me to the recent Will-Smith-produced Annie, which I just saw at a second
run house because I'm an old Midwesterner and what you might term a cheap
bastard.
I like Jamie
Foxx as a performer very much, and will go to movies just because he's in them.
Quevenzhane Wallis is simply the most astonishing child actor of the last
couple of decades, a kid with so much charisma and presence combined with real,
strong acting ability that you can pretty much just call her a child prodigy,
say that genius makes its own rules, and let it go at that. Even more
astonishing in a kid actor is that she's what the pros call a
"giving" actor -- she makes other people on camera or stage with her
look better, because she's so clearly believing them that the rest of us do
too.
I went with
high hopes, even though I knew reviews had been mixed; I have reached a point
in life where I am quite comfortable liking things that every critic dumps on,
or being bored to death by things everyone else loves. Besides, Little Orphan
Annie. Couldn't miss an adaptation of it.
And the idea
was so promising. At this point in history, there are some self-made super-rich
African Americans, there are still an abundance of African-American poor kids
with courage and brains but a not-very-supportive background, and the
intersection of race and class, and of father-daughter relations ... well, it
seemed like there had to be a ton of potential to scrape the rust off the old
work and make it live and breathe. I
really wanted to see that movie!
Unfortunately,
what I saw was a lightly browned version of Broadway Annie, with the songs
staged rather badly (and often without a strong point to them) and a thoroughly
awesome cast insanely underused. The Annie-Warbucks chemistry was great; every
time Foxx and Wallis were on screen together I was painfully reminded of what a
great possibility was being kicked away. Even things that really work in the old
musical were often damped down and lost for no good reason; all they gave
Wallis to do during Tomorrow was to be sad because a piece of paper that had
already been revealed to contain none of the information she wanted had fallen
into a puddle, and to walk up the street singing bravely. Why not at least let
her be trying to cheer up Sandy, freshly rescued from cruel boys tormenting
him, as in the original? The best actors in the world -- and Quevenzhane Wallis
is good on a level we rarely see even in adults -- can't do anything if the
director gives them nothing to do.
But about
halfway through, I started to think ...
What if Foxx
and Wallis had been cast, not in the 70's musical, but the 20's-60's comic
strip? Sure, we'd need to get Will Stacks (the lame replacement for Oliver
Warbucks, who damn well ought to be Oliver Warbucks) out of being a cell phone
magnate and into being somebody more like Lucius Fox or Tony Stark or both
combined. But look at him move; he's still strong and young enough to do action
hero scenes when the time comes. Bollywood and the Asian martial arts film
industry are swarming with handsome young men who could become more dignified and
fully human versions of Punjab and The Asp (we could start by giving them better names), but when the chips
are down, Foxx could handle key action scenes.
And oh, the
sheer grace of Quevenzhane Wallis. That kid has strength and agility; she's
okay as a dancer (and to judge by all the autotuning, maybe not so great as a
singer) but let's see her in some serious action sequences I was massively
disappointed that her only role in her own kidnap rescue was to wave at people
with cell phones. Come the fuck ON, people, you've got a ten year old that
moves like an Olympic athlete, can't you give her a good fight scene with a
couple of slimy kidnappers?
So here's the
thing, Mr. Smith. I shall pretend you are reading this. The musical was all right but not great as an
origin story. Next movie, either lose the songs or at least get creative staff
that understand why a musical is not a collection of music videos stuck
together.
Now it's time,
before that great kid and that natural action star get any older, to make some
sequels.
But next time
... make the newspaper Annie.
Say for
example there's a traitor in Stacks enterprises, which has just gotten a patent
on a new miracle technology that, I don't know, some Hollywood bullshit, is
making cell phones that transmogrify into personal tanks if you're being mugged,
or a super communications satellite essential to the safety of the free world,
whatever. Doesn't matter as long as it's
not a silly bling-display like those phones.
And said traitor stages an accident, suddenly Daddy and Grace are gone,
presumed dead, but Annie realizes that she's about to be shunted off to
somewhere to get her out of the way and she escapes and flees back to Harlem
where she knows people, but there are bad guys in hot pursuit and ...
There's a
whole big planet out there that can be covered with villains and evildoers,
where an adventurous kid could find some high adventure, movie after movie, for
the next few years. Think kid and dog being backed out on a girder over a
precipice by a killer robot ... and then in swoops the Stacks-marked helicopter
... and then in the NEXT fifteen minutes ...
Let
Quevenzhane Wallis reassure a generation of little kids that the world is safe
to explore because the adults have your back (and because you're pretty damn
capable yourself). Let Jamie Foxx show them what kind of adults those are --
St. George and Lucius Fox and Mace Windu and Race Bannon, all the other adults
there to have your back when you need it most. Make Annie II (and III and as
many more as the public will stand) -- and make it from the right Annie, the
fairy tale of courage, hope, and community that is the newspaper strip, and not
the positive-thinking passive insipidity of the Broadway Annie.
Come on, Mr.
Smith. You can do it. Everything you need is right there. And leapin' lizards,
wouldn't it be fun?
§
*Just listing those names seems to call up some great swath
of childhood smells, sounds, sights, and everything.
**Go ahead, someone, add it if it really doesn't exist
there, or email me about it if I'm just missing it.
*** I've always wondered what the application form is like
for the Warren Buffett Orphan Rescuing Commando Force or the Bill Gates Deus Ex
Machina Rangers.
****I imagine them all joining together in the Legion of
Teenagers Who Escape from Kidnappers Several Times A Year.
***** Yeah, I know old Bruno made up most of his case
studies, distorted facts like a funhouse mirror, and was an intellectual mountebank.
Let me just ask you: who better to defend fairy tales, those lies that are
utterly unreal but believed because somehow we sense there is truth in them?