Super Mario Brothers

*Let me just offer this as a legitimate and all-excusing disclaimer: I am not, nor do I claim to be knowledgeable about video games in any way. Please don't take my word for it on any technical points by any means. I don't know the names of the versions and all of the release dates. Please accept my humble offering of Mario love. Thank you.

I like that we all just accept it as fact that a stubby little Italian guy with a face-consuming mustache battles obstacles and adversarial Koopas to rescue Princess Peach (nee Toadstool). Even as I'm typing it, a small part of me is still thinking, well, of course, it makes perfect sense. Mushrooms give you power and flowers give you fireballs and if you shimmy down a tube, you enter the mysterious minus world where the coins make that satisfying "ding" with each collection. Duh. Everyone knows that.

Mario and all of his spin-offs have become such a ubiquitous part of our culture that we're all willing to go along with that plot line and say, yeah, why not? That's just the way it is. Have you ever tried describing a video game to someone who had never played a video game? You'll find that this intricate gamer world that you navigate without question is probably the most bizarre thing they have ever heard. It's the delightful escapism of video games: they're not the real world, nor do they pretend to be grounded in it. In this world, anything goes, and you always get to play the hero. Where do I sign up?

I admit I was not much of a Nintendo aficionado growing up. Not for lack of want, but more for lack of brothers. My parents never saw fit to buy my sister and I our own video game system, though we were allowed to play Mario and Tetris on my mom's Gameboy. Before you pooh-pooh my shaky gamer credentials, let it be noted that my mom used to bring me to work and in order to escape the tedium I'd sneak of to play their giant arcade game of Super Mario Bros. Don't ask me why they had this in a nursing home. I don't know. It makes no sense, so the only explanation was that it existed solely for me to delight in the incredibly addictive world of Mario. I appreciate the gesture, but did you have to put it next to that weird aviary thing? The chirping is sort of distracting.

This was the version I played, though admittedly with less skill. I still love that music. It's so satisfying when you get to that flag. Such joyful beeping. Ah, the memories.

I have also spent the last 30 minutes playing Super Mario Bros online here. Under the guise of doing research, I found myself cursing aloud over missed coin opportunities, unintentional mushroom collisions, and failure to catch a falling star. It just isn't the kind of game you can play halfway. It's all or nothing, and in most cases, it was all.

In the 80s and 90s, video games had a far different look and feel than video games of today. The violence was more lighthearted, our aims more simplistic, and our graphics admittedly more pixelated. That's not to say the games weren't complicated. The Mario games alone were a world unto themselves. On the other hand, our hero was a stocky Italian-American plumber sporting flamboyant red overalls. I guess we'll just have to take Nintendo's word for it that he's fully qualified for such a hefty task.

Mario and his younger brother Luigi were residents of the Mushroom Kingdom. As the name implies, their homeland was indeed a monarchy, home of our beloved Princess Peach (or Toadstool, depending on which version you're looking at). I have to admit, I am such a girl. I always loved the Princess best. I always liked Super Mario Bros 2 because you had the option of playing as her, and she was a pretty awesome hoverer. In other versions, I was nowhere near adept enough at Nintendo gameplay to actually ever make a legitimate rescue (or, let's admit, even come close) but I did totally reach the Princess in Mario Teaches Typing. I kicked ass at that game.*

I like the way they claim this version (Super Mario World) is "more realistic". Do explain.

For some reason, when their beloved Princess is in peril the kingdom turns not to some sort of qualified combatant but rather to our little mustachioed plumber in overalls. You literally get to root for the little guy. Mario is tiny. Bite size. Pocket size. Fun size. You get the picture.

Mario was originally known as "jumpman", which is not particularly surprising when you observe his vertical bounce prowess. As a player, jumping became our major means of defending ourself and obtaining valuable powers and weaponry. Our journey is treacherous; weird creatures throwing crap at us, knocking us off of things, and generally standing in the way of our honest and decent quest. When those crazy turtle-bird dealies** started ricocheting back and forth and threatening to knock me off my little brick walkway, I was pretty much toast.

This is probably the coolest thing I've ever seen. I'm aware that this confirms my status as a huge nerd, but that does not in any way stop me from coveting this cake

We braved underwater levels, underground levels, sky levels, warp land, and all sorts of other exotic video game worlds to rescue our fair princess. For those of us caught time after time with a disappointingly premature death (read: me playing the flash version online right now), the game was endlessly frustrating. The sheer joy at beating a level was the ultimate triumph, while the crushing disappointment of being killed yet again by that same stupid fall was the ultimate defeat.

While most kids fought their way through and persevered, showing their hard-working earnestness and goodness of spirit, I was not among them. I was more the type to say, screw it. I'm going to play Duck Hunt. I get a gun in that game.***






*Yes, I recognize that a typing game is notably dorkier than a video game and achievements are thus far less admirable. Thank you for pointing that out.
**I'm aware that there's got to be some real name for these things
***Can you believe it? A gun!

Troop Beverly Hills

It always frosts my cookies* a bit to find that my favorite films as a child were viciously and maliciously torn apart by critics. Here I'd been thinking this movie was on par with other representations of fine art, when more cognizant adults degraded my love for this movie with their scathing critiques. Indeed, Troop Beverly Hills, arguably one of my favorite childhood movies, boasts an impressive (okay, depressive) 8% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Not only that, but the only positive review is downright confusing to me as I had assumed myself the target audience for the film:

It's a treat (and necessity) not only for youngish gay boys, but for anyone who enjoys campy good fun with the added bonus of watching dominant cultural values self-destruct.

Right. Okay. At least they threw in that bonus. I was afraid I'd have to let dominant cultural values uphold their lofty position, but luckily they're on the verge of nuclear implosion. And all thanks to Troop Beverly Hills. Who knew?


Perhaps the problem with these reviews was not the movie itself but the jadedness of these adult critics. Yes, I understand that by nature assuming the title of critic allows you to criticize, but it also at times morphs you into too cynical a skeptic to just delight in something light and fluffy and substanceless. As a child, things like plot and nuance and character development are arbitrary. Why settle for a well-written script when there were cupcake dresses to be worn and cookie time songs to be sung. Am I right?

Troop Beverly hills is admittedly somewhere relative to cotton candy on the substance scale of movies. It confirms all of our lurking stereotyped suspicious about the wealthy and it's not exactly a feminist manifesto, but dammit, it's fun. There's even a light sprinkling of salt-of-the-earth values thrown in there for good measure. Well, sort of.

The movie showcases Shelley Long as Phyllis Neffler, a Beverly Hills socialite in the midst of a divorce from her new-moneyful husband. To prove herself as more than just the shallow social climber she probably is, Phyllis opts to become a troop leader for her daughter Hannah's troop of Wilderness Girls. You know, like the Girl Scouts, but with less copyright infringements.



You've got to admit, you've never seen anything campier, save for the troop's camping trip at the Beverly Hills Hotel. That's right, he totally said "khaki wishes and cookie dreams." You're only wishing you'd come up with it first.

So we get Phyllis, compulsive shopper and outrageous late-80s couture-wearer extraordinaire, boldly going where no trophy wife has tread before. Her daughter's troopmates are an eclectic cross section of the rich and famous: darling offspring of famous athletes, out-of-work actors, and foreign dictators round out their motley crew. Though Phyllis is certainly not an ideal troop leader, she's better than the alternative of nobody. Well, sort of.

There is one little fly in the bug spray, though. Rival troop Redfeathers' crazy leader Vesta Plendor, is out to expose Phyllis for what we all already know that she is: a fraud with a big checkbook. Vesta takes this whole thing way too seriously, resorting to some pretty dirty tricks to keep Troop Beverly Hills down. She even goes so far as to enlist her assistant Annie as a spy to infiltrate the Beverly Hills troop.

Initially unsuspecting of Vesta's distasteful scheming, Phyllis sets to work on bettering her troop. She is not such of fan of any existing badges, but she does go to town on the make-your-own-badge project. Literally. They go to town. There's a shopping badge. Jewelry appraisal. It's just so satisfyingly campy. They power through their cookie sales with over the top sales strategies and even a huge troop gala. All seems to be going swimmingly for the newly uplifted Troop Beverly Hills.

The culmination of their work, the Jamboree, is sabotaged by the vicious Vesta-led Redfeathers. Oh, and there are also some lovely trying moments of bonding between the girls. Aww.



The Redfeathers power on, even as Vesta is injured. Her daughter (played by Tori Spelling) and the rest of the troop abandon her in her usual spirit of winning. They finish first, but without a troop leader, their victory is hollow and the girls are disqualified. Just then, Troop Beverly Hills emerges from around the bend, dragging the washed-up Vesta. All's well that end's well. Phyllis and her husband reunite, Vesta gets some K-mart employee blue-smocked comeuppance, yada yada yada, we all live happily ever after.

Irony is notably lacking from this movie, which is fortunate as its major target demographic was the under-12 set. Troop Beverly Hills has no wry remarks on wealth in society, no biting social commentary, and little satirical value. But it does have this**:

The greatest cheesy girl scout cookie-themed movie song I know of, to date

And in the end, isn't that all that really counts?






*This is a line from the movie. Please tell me you caught this.
**It's entirely possible that when I purchased this DVD, some of my roommates and I may have watched this song on repeat. I'm not saying it happened, I'm just saying it's possible that we learned the full song and dance. Intoxication may have been involved.

Tiny Toon Adventures

With the classics, there's a general sense of "if-it-ain't-broke-don't-fix-it"-ness. While Warner Brothers animation studios had spent many years continually rehashing and re-spinning the adventures of their classic characters, by the 90s the ol' Looney Tunes gang was getting a bit tired. Under the guidance of Steven Spielberg, the studio was at last poised to create some younger, hipper characters.

Not everyone was particularly keen on disrupting the holy gospel of animated TV. Many adult who had grown up with the original characters were less than thrilled by their 90s incarnations. Regardless, Warner Brothers was finally ready to provide 90s children with some well-deserved original animation in the form of Tiny Toon Adventures, a new show that maintained a similar format to the original Looney Tunes program.

In the spirit of the day, classic cartoons (or near-miss versions of them) were getting a bit of an age downgrade with their 90s makeovers. While many of the shows that entertained our parents featured adult-age characters, animators saw fit to bring their 90s counterparts a bit further down to our level. Chronologically speaking, that is. Newer animated exploits like Flintstone Kids and Muppet Babies explored familiar territory and characters but featured younger versions of the characters we knew and loved.



Tiny Toons was somewhat exceptional in that it introduced (gasp!) new characters. I know, I know. I'll give you a minute to digest it. While most of us out here probably aren't real animation fiends, this was pretty big news from our friends at Warner Brothers. Though their original cartoons continued to air in rerun, they sought fit to shift to a new generation of Looney Tunes christened as Tiny Toons.

With some classic cartoon writers on board, Warner Brothers set out to create a junior class of Looney Tunes. Though not necessarily genetically tied to their predecessors, Tiny Toons were a sort of adolescent version of the originals. They were still pulling the same slapstick humor gags as their forebunnies and foreducks, but this time around they were kids. Students, to be precise. At the esteemed Acme Looniversity. Get it? Looniversity? You're laughing already.

They wrapped it all up in a well-animated colorful package and even threw in a catchy theme song to boot. You know, memory is a funny thing. I don't think I could tell you what a periodic table looks like or how to reduce fractions, but I can can flawlessly recall these lyrics without skipping a beat. Then again, I suppose an anvil never fell from the sky during any of my chemistry classes. It would certainly make it more memorable.



The new show didn't fully abandon our original Looney Tunes heroes. Indeed, they had a relatively respected cameo-level role as our young toons' trusty instructors.I suppose that's as literal a metaphor set-up as ever for passing the torch, but it worked. The show paid homage to the original greats without trying to hard to reinstate the Golden Years.

The characters were sort of junior spin-offs of the Looney Tunes, with similar species. Here were some of our new major animated players:


Buster Bunny

A clear take-off of Bugs, Buster is his forebearer's prized pupil at Acme Looniversity. Buster was the everyman (everybunny?) character and usually the leader of the group. Though Buster and Babs both share the last name "Bunny", they constantly remind the audience that there is indeed no relation between the two. Buster was initially voiced by Charlier Adler, who also gave us delightful characters such as Aaah! Real Monsters' Ickis and Ed and Bev Bighead from Rocko's Modern Life. In the words of the rival animation company that shall remain unnamed, it's a small (animated) world after all.

Though a tad more vulnerable than the infallibly cool Bugs, Buster was certainly in the realm of cool cartoon characters. Observe, his guide to goofing off:





Babs Bunny

Babs was always my favorite, not just because she was female but mainly because she was willing to sacrifice herself for a laugh. She was completely over-the-top. Babs also was queen of spot-on impressions, though it's not especially surprising when you find she was voiced by the talented Tress MacNeille. MacNeille voiced Chip of Chip n' Dale, Dot of Animaniacs, Lindsay Nagle of The Simpsons, and tyrannical Mom on Futurama, among countless others.





Hamton J. Pig

A Porky knockoff, Hamton J. was both studious and compulsively neat. Though you'd think him the straight man, the truth was Tiny Toons rarely played it straight. My favorite part was that there was a cute little menorah in the Pigs' house. For non-MOTs* out there, we're talking Jewish bacon. Hilarious. I promise. It is. Just go with it.

Hamton was voiced by Don Messick, and if you think for a second I'm going to get remotely tired of marveling over all these vocal talents then you've got another thing coming. Probably an anvil. Messick was a cartoon voice all-star, boasting credits as Scooby Doo, Papa Smurf, Bamm Bamm, and Boo Boo Bear.




Plucky Duck

Our Daffy lite, Plucky was a scheming little bill-face. He was Hamton's best friend, though he often took advantage of his kinder nature. I was always a big fan of Plucky's tank top. As far as animated clothing choices go, I always found it somewhat humorous. Plucky was voiced by Joe Alaskey, a guy who made a living impersonating the original Looney Tunes in more recent ventures. He did a mean Bugs, Tweety, Yosemite Sam, and most notable, Daffy.





Montana Max

Montana was our classic bully, and among the few humans to popular Acme Acres. A protege of Yosemite Sam, Montana was equally temperamental. His character is incredibly wealthy, making him the big bad rich villain. Montana Max's vocal talent is probably my favorite 90s connection. Montana was voiced by Danny Cooksey, none other than (wait for it) Bobby Budnick on Nickelodeon's Salute Your Shorts.





Elmyra Duff

Elmyra was presumably the female young version of Elmer Fudd, although her intent with animals is slightly off the Fudd path. Elmyra was completely and utterly obsessed with all things fluffy and cute, getting overexcited and unintentionally abusive with each outpouring of unquenchable love. She was famous for saying such frightening things as, "I'm gonna hug you and kiss you and love you forever" right before she nearly hugs the life out of something.

She was generally pretty dim-witted and spoke in baby talk, though she proved to be one of the most enduring Tiny Toons characters with follow-up roles in both Animaniacs and a Pinky and the Brain spin-off. Elmyra was voiced by Cree Summer, who's done a bunch of stuff but who I like to think of mainly as the voice of Suzie on Rugrats. I just love Suzie.




Certainly this doesn't even begin to cover the vast cast of characters that populated Acme Forest, but it's a start. Tiny Toon Adventures ran three full seasons, with a handful of specials thrown in for good measure. The show did however have a long foray into syndication, exposing a range of children throughout the 90s to their animated antics. That's about all, folks. Or in the ever-wise words of Gogo Dodo, it's been surreal! See you next time.



*Members of the tribe