Today, Part 2 of yesterday’s 80stravaganza. Read all the options and vote at the end!
Crazy Eddie, by Fenzel
If we’re going to revive an 80s franchise, let’s go whole hog. None of this “I kinda like this unremarkable cartoon because it was on after cookie time” crap. I mean the real deal. It’s time to get crazy! 80s crazy!
How crazy, you ask? How about Tri-State Area discount electronics store crazy? How about the stock symbol CRZY, and taking it from $8 to $75 and back to $9 in three years crazy?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zsCb_eQlKGo&NR=1
How about paying all your employees off the books in cash and skimming 1 out of every 6 bucks for yourself crazy? How about laundering tens of millions of those embezzled dollars through offshore accounts in Israel and Panama back into your stores to boost sales figures and inflate your stock price crazy? How about making a public announcement you resign as CEO and President, only to not really resign, fire your father from the business, and dump all your company stock right before somebody catches up with you and the shares tank crazy?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eXf8oKJ2mu8&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jc-Mhynh_pg&NR=1
How about losing control of your company to a hostile takeover crazy? How about fleeing the country with a warrant out for your arrest crazy? How about getting charged with racketeering and securities fraud three times–the first time, fleeing the country, the second time, getting the 8-year prison sentence overturned on appeal because you claim the judge was biased against you, and the third time going to the federal pen for a decade with $1.1 billion in overdue fines and judgements against you crazy? (Man, these Christmas ones are the best!)
So, yeah, if you’re going to reboot an 80s franchise, DO IT NOW! Crazy Eddie CANNOT BE UNDERSOLD and WILL NOT BE UNDERSOLD!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehOrW4n7CaQ
Plus, because of the dozens of convictions across the family business, the millions upon millions of dollars in fraud perpetrated against customers and shareholders, the public debasement of the extended legal drama, Crazy Eddie is the only 80s franchise you can remake now, because it’s the only one somebody isn’t already remaking!
Wow. I guess I was wrong. Apparently people will literally forgive and forget anything.
Crazy Eddie is back in business, and that, dear Overthinkers, is INSANE!!!!!
(By the way, contrary to popular assumptions, the guy in the commercials isn’t the Crazy Eddie who owns the stores and committed the crimes. The guy in the commercials is radio DJ Jerry “Dr. Jerry” Carroll, who, as far as I know, never did anything to anybody except make awesome commercials.)
And seriously, a vote in the poll for Crazy Eddie is a vote for bringing back these totally awesome commercials – not the crime, so much. If they can do Monopoly as a movie, they can do this.
Ferris Bueller, by McNeil
Back in the 80’s, Ferris led us to consequence-free rebellion, to the realization that breaking the rules was fine if you were smart, friendly, and well-intentioned. Ferris had a loving relationship with his parents as well as the sportos, the motorheads, the geeks, the sluts, bloods, waistoids, dweebies, and dickheads think he’s a righteous dude. His rebellion was a bloodless coup, a 20th century Saturnalia, when for a single day, the young were in charge (Cameron as Mr. Peterson lording it over Principal Rooney; Ferris as Abe Froman, the Sausage King of Chicago). Nobody was hurt, everybody had fun, and Cameron realized the Oedipal complex with a $10.8 million sports car.
1986 was the middle of Reagan’s second term—America was poised to win the capitalism vs. communism debate, and we were obsessed with success, money, and hair gel. Ferris offered escape from that mindset. For Ferris, it wasn’t about the cost of the Ferrari (as it clearly was for Cameron’s dad), it was about the freedom it represented, the freedom to sing, to dance, to see fine art to eat fine food, to see something good today.
In 2009, things are a little different. We wanted to be Ferris, but we probably turned out more like Cameron. As we sit in front of our computers day after day, we know that capitalism’s star isn’t quite as bright as once it was. We’re still obsessed with money, but it’s no longer about getting more, it’s about getting enough. We’re stressed out, we’re worried, we’re working as hard as we can to keep the boss happy so that we’ll survive the next round of pink slips. Couldn’t we use another day off?
The sequel to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off could offer us the same kind of hope. After lackluster academic performance, but showing great potential in computer science, Ferris is a depressed software engineer. (If this sounds like Office Space, consider the fact that Lumbergh clearly stole his shtick from Ben Stein.) As the film opens we see him in bed, on the phone, convincing both his suspicious boss and his watching wife and children that he’s too sick. Then he calls Cameron, successful Cameron, and tells him to borrow the company jet and come on over. After that, it’s the same movie: a celebration of rebellion over rules, giving those of us with kids, mortgages and 401ks another chance to hit the road, to twist and shout, to see Sloane change by the hot tub, to put our bosses in their place, and to be kings for a day.
Oh yeah.
Chickachicka.
BTW: Mr. Broderick is clearly ready for this:
Jem, by Wrather
In thinking about my contribution to this week’s Think Tank, I realized that my task was not as straightforward as first it appeared. The idea that a show about a young woman who leads a secret double life as a pop star would be successful hardly needs defending. In fact, just such a show has become, in the last few years, a global TV, concert, and merchandise juggernaut.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my task was not to praise Jem, but rather to bury Hannah Montana. That is to say, I need to make the case that Hannah Montana is not the legitimate heir to Jem. (Other than its manifest deficiencies in the keytar department, which is enough evidence for me.)
One area you can’t fault Hannah Montana relative to Jem is in the area of crass commercialization. Jem was produced by a consortium comprising Hasbro, Marvel Comics, and Sunbow Entertainment, the same team that had been responsible for G.I. Joe and Transformers. In other words, multi-media synergy ain’t just a magical computer that uses holograms to create the illusion of a spectacular pop concert. Toys, comics, audio casettes… Disney didn’t invent the marketing full court press.
Still, Miley Stewart is a creation of the Gossip Girl generation and of its essential aristocratic worldview where social standing (wealth in Gossip Girl, stardom here) is seen as a sign of greater intrinsic worth. (Miley Cyrus herself purports to hold an interesting version of this view, with her “faith” being the reason she is successful in Hollywood—it’s ambiguous whether she means the religious or the self-help type. Though let’s not take that too seriously; we all said a lot of bullshit when we were sixteen.)
In this view, the world exists to fulfil the aims fo the aristocracy—in fact, that view has been expressed pretty baldly on My Super Sweet 16. Social change is worse than impossible, it’s moot; things are the way they are, and efforts to change them are pointless.
There is even a similar self-centeredness in the show’s central metaphor, where the vicissitudes of having a sceret personality stand for the average expectable identity development of adolesence. The throngs of adoring fans really are there to teach Miley lessons about herself. (More generally, this is the fallacy of the Lessons of Cancer, where external events are taken to be important fundamentally because they teach important moral lessons to a third party, e.g., “My mother’s harrowing and painful death was so good for my personal develpment!”)
Jerrica Benton, who holographically becomes Jem, is not preferable simply for the reason that she’s a better role model (though she is), but rather because she has a different relationship to the world. She is a successful entrepreneur, but it’s not all about stardom: her main goal is to fund Starlight House, a foster home for girls (many of them doubtless orphans like her).
The point here is not her empowerment or her generosity. The point is that she sees the world as if not perfectible then at least improvable, and she feels a responsibility to contribute to its improvement. She makes her own opportunities as a businesswoman, and she makes opportunities for others as a philanthropist.
So let’s have a real remake of Jem. In fact, let’s have a remake of entertainment. One that stops telling us there’s a better class of people in order to sell us albums. That would be truly outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous.
Leave ’em alone, by Lee
Leave ’em alone. Walk away from the campy TV show that seems to have limitless nostalgic appeal. Avoid the temptation to “give a modern take on a classic coming of age tale” or “introduce beloved characters to a whole new generation of fans.”
Consider this: in any given year, dozens of movies and TV shows based on original stories, characters, etc. are released. Some are great, some are good, most are mediocre, and some are bad. The mediocre and the bad do little harm; they fade away and are quickly forgotten. The good and the great go on to become part of the rich fabric of popular culture.
Now consider this: in any given year, a small handful of well-loved movies and TVs from the past are remade, rebooted, given sequels, or otherwise brought back after a long hiatus. Just like movies based on original content, some are great, some are good, some are mediocre, and some are bad. BUT remember what I said about the mediocre and bad doing little harm in the case of original works? Not so when it comes to nostalgia revivals. Bad and mediocre originals typically never rise above the obscurity they deserve. But revivals are magnets for attention, and mediocre/bad revivals spread their pain far and wide. Plus, fans of a ruined franchise now have resentment and anger at the failed remake instead of pure, innocent naive enjoyment of the original works. Taken as a whole, then, the body of nostalgia revivals constitutes a net loss for fans of popular entertainment.
I know you’re thinking of counterexamples to nail me in the comments, but ask yourself: would you rather live in a world with an Escape from New York remake, or a world WITHOUT the Karate Kid remake?
‘Nuff said. Leave ‘em alone.
