Troll Dolls

Whose idea was it to have their eyes match their hair on these Treasure Trolls? Really, show yourself. That's probably one of the more frightening things I've ever seen.

When you think troll, what comes to mind? Is it a cute, cuddly, neon-haired pot-bellied figure, or a mythical violent under-bridge dwelling creature a la Three Billy Goats Gruff? If you can't answer it correctly, I'm pretty sure he'll make good on that threat to gobble you up. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Many of us did indeed grow up believing that the word troll was exclusively reserved for these hard plastic Einstein-haired elfin dolls. I didn't know that a troll was supposed to be scary, or mean, or snarly, or a generally unsavory character. I was too busy praying that mine came with a rhinestone belly button.

Troll dolls were originally conceived in the 1960s in Denmark and the first specimens were made of wood, leading us to deduce that the original troll-players were besieged by splinters. This semi-impoverished whittling man unknowingly started a Danish toy craze that quickly spread across the world. Though the general concept and design was based on the Danish woodcarver's prototype, he probably never in his wildest troll-infested dreams foresaw the insane breeds of trolls yet to come.

For instance, I'm willing to bet a fair sum of money that he never, ever had anything in mind even remotely like this when he carved that original little wooden figurine for his daughter:

Russ Troll Kids Ad
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I'm not embarrassed to admit as a child I longed to be in this commercial. I mean, what's better than singing and dancing in a toy store with a group of my troll-hugging peers? It's 90s cheesiness at its very best. That synthesizer in the background in pretty critical too. This has got to be one of the laziest ad campaigns I've ever seen. I understand the notion of a no-frills, gimmick-free commercial, but repeating "Can't stop hugging the troll kids" over and over is verging on neglectful.

But I digress. Trolls went underground for awhile between the 60s and 90s. Not literally, of course. Well, not the toys. The real things, I've heard they tend to do that kind of thing. Where was I? Oh yes, the Troll doll renaissance. The dolls were resurrected in the 90s with a big marketing push. The original trolls, however, just weren't kicking for these 90s children. The dolls were now battling the forces of video games, computers, and other mind-numbing recreational stimuli.

The 90s toy market was highly segmented, with toy manufacturers eager to market simultaneously to kid demographics across the board. Rather than offering one solid product, most toy producers opted to offer innumerable watered-down variations of the original. Hence was the case with trolls, leaving many consumers scratching their heads at some of these Troll releases. Here's a prime example of the ridiculous manifestations of the original:



Yes, you heard correctly. Troll Barbie. They don't explain why or how she's associated with Trolls or why she insists of wearing tufts of their multi-colored hair on her head. She wears pants with cartoon Trolls on them and has a Troll necklace. If you're thinking this makes no sense at all, congratulations. You've outwitted the 90s Mattel advisory board.

Clearly Trolls were a tad on the girly side, leaving toy companies scratching their heads as to how to effectively market these cuddly critters to boys. After all, that's a pretty significant segment of the market going un-Trolled. This is what they came up with:



I've officially changed my mind. This is the quintessential 90s commercial. I'm not exactly sure why they had to go ahead and kill a rustling meadowful of adorable, girl-friendly Trolls in order to prove their point at the beginning. Clearly subtlety was not on their marketing agenda. Not only do they claim these dolls to be "OUT OF CONTROL!", they also end the commercial with a threat: "Collect them before they collect you!" I'm sorry, what? What? That makes. Absolutely. No. Sense. Not even a sliver. I guess they got so caught up in the frenzied fast-paced excitement of the commercial, they forgot to proofread the script.

There was also this lighter male-directed line called Stone Protectors, who were supposedly equally bad-ass but who appeared as cartoons in the ads. They also conveniently come with an arsenal of accessories sure to lift the bills directly from your pockets.



If that wasn't enough to do it for you as a kid, how about some misleading and unverified claims? Treasure Trolls were a serious craze, differentiated from the original on belly button rhinestone detail alone. The commercial, however, leads us to believe that these trolls have magical powers to make all of our wildest dreams come true.



They really wanted to drive the point home, so they also came out with this winner of an ad, showing just how exciting your life could be if only you incorporated Treasure Trolls into your daily existence. This one definitely plays down the questionable Treasure Trolls Answer Your Prayers part, too.



In the spirit of cross-marketing, they also released Troll video games, computer games, and even straight-to-video VHS releases like this one:



Really, just don't ask questions. You'll only strain your brain. If nothing else, retrospection on Trolls shows us just how much toy manufacturers were able to get away with in the 90s. Their many Troll releases were pretty shameless. It's almost as if they simply sat around the board room table, everyone coughed up one marginally absurd idea, and they called it a day. When a brand is elevated to craze status, you can pretty much release whatever you want. Looking back, they may have been a bit silly, but at the time I'd give anything to add to my troll collection. I won't lie to you, I'm still sort of coveting that Troll Barbie. What? The commercial was pretty persuasive.

Babe

Who doesn't love talking farm animals? Okay, so maybe I know a few select people who will inevitably tell me these things terrified them to no end, but on the whole they have a lot going for them in the cuteness department. Funny little voices, cute scurrying movements, hilarious misunderstandings of real-life situations through their animal-brain lens. What's not to like?

Babe was one of those movies that could have been a triumph or a disaster, and it managed to come out as the former. Believe it or not, movie technology in 1995 was not quite everything it was today. Technological prowess aside, talking animals have a tendency to go one of two ways: overly cartoony and amusing to only those in the under-ten set, or heartwarmingly adorable in a way that makes you want to "awww" through the whole movie. Babe managed to pull it off, earning not only some well-deserved "awwws" but also some seriously positive critical acclaim.

The movie is an Australian film about a little pig who wants to be a sheepdog. Like most good family films, the premise is simple and uncluttered. Sure, there are some cute B-stories, but it's not an especially complicated plot. The straightforwardness of it appealed to parents and children, and the movie showcased classic themes and values with one corkscrew-tailed twist: a pig protagonist. I'm willing to bet a lot of kids forwent the BLTs at their post-film dinner trips. He was just so darn cute, it was hard not to see him there, waving feebly between the leafy greens and ripe tomatoes.





Ohhh my gosh, when that little Babe cries, "I want my m-o-o-o-om", I die a little inside from the incessant adorability. Could they have chosen a cuter protagonist? The correct answer is no, no they could not have. Babe is the best. He's not just cute and cuddly, he's also naive, strong-willed, stubborn, and determined. In short, he's a perfect entertainment for children because he's exactly like them. Parents were pretty keen on him too, most likely won over by this amazingly endearing version of Jingle Bells:



Babe was not, of course, the only featured farm animal in this film. The movie had a slew of barnyard pals to entertain and enthrall us. The movie begins with our cuddly future pork product is separated from his siblings by chance and selected to be in a booth at a county fair. Farmer Hoggett, the adorable Australian farmer who looks like a moderately more huggable version of pitchfork man in American Gothic, feels an immediate bond with Babe and correctly guesses his weight for the win. He brings home his new prize runt and allows him to nest with the sheepdogs, a cocky breed who clearly know themselves to be the farm favorites.

He is befriended by Maa, a maternal sheep, and Ferdinand, a misguided scheming duck. Ferdinand had been playing resident rooster, and was very upset at the introduction of the mechanical rooster--that is, alarm clock. He ventures with Babe on a covert mission to stop the dreaded mechanical rooster, resulting in mild antic-rousing and some downright messes. Meanwhile, the sheepdog matriarch Fly mourns the loss of her sold-off puppies, and Babe requests to call her Mom. Oh my gosh. The cuteness. The cuteness. I'll give you a minute.

Despite many pork-crazed visiting relatives, Mr. Hoggett inexplicably befriends Babe and protects him from uncertain dinner fate. Unfortunately, they go with duck a l'orange, incidentally the tender meat of Ferdinand's gal pal. Ferdinand peaces out at this point, determined not to become the next duck a l'orange. Babe encounters some men trying to steal some of the Hoggetts' sheep, and in watching the family sheepdogs gather up the herd is enthralled by the possibility of sheepdoghood.

Mr Hoggett takes notice of Babe's special interest, giving him the opportunity to give a go at herding. The sheepdogs warn him that sheep should be treated roughly, but after biting Maa his adorable guilt is just too much to bear. No, our pal Babe opts for asking them politely to please fall in line, to which they graciously comply. The other dogs are pretty pissed and a fight breaks out, leading to some seriuos barnyard drams.



Farmer Hoggett thinks about entering Babe in sheepdog trials, and everything seems to be going very well. Then of course, there is a series of events that are heartbreakingly sad and which I will intentionally omit not just for brevity's sake or spoiler consciousness, but because they make me a cry like an overgrown infant. I'll let you rent the movie or Netflix it or whatever newfangled thing you kids are doing these days to get ahold of classic films, but I'll spare you some of the sadder details. You're welcome.

Babe gets signed up for the sheepdog trials under the auspicious stage name "pig". Before his grand performance, he finds out that (gasp!) people just like his beloved Mr. Hoggett actually eat pigs. I know, I know. I'll give you some time to digest that. Not literally, though, I hope. Hoggett sings the 70s hit "If I had Words" to try to make it up to him. A small consolation, no doubt, but he goes for it. After some tense moments, Babe performs beautifully in the sheepdog trials, earning the praise and admiration of the crowd. And of course, he gets the ultimate show of affection from Mr. Hoggett himself, who tells him, "That'll do, pig. That'll do."

I leave you with the mice rendition of If I had Words, certain to make you smile or make your eardrums burst depending on your tolerance for helium-infused voice work.

Fruit Stripe Gum

Kids aren't usually the greatest long-term planners. Instant gratification is most likely the only type of satisfaction they know, regardless of the longstanding consequences of their actions. If you ever doubted that kids favor the immediate over the enduring, look no further for evidence than a fluorescent hued-stick of Fruit Stripe Gum. Case in point, the gum offers a mere three minutes of desirable flavor time followed by a persistent output of bland non-flavor for the duration of the chew. But hey, it comes with tattoos. That's got to be some sort of consolation, right?





Fruit Stripe Gum was nothing less than a candy craze, launched in the 1960s but enjoying a serious rejuvenation of popularity throughout the 1990s. The brand and its zebra mascot Yipes are decidedly kid-friendly, luring in children with promises of an enchantingly colorful sugar high. The alluring five juicy flavors drew us in time after time. We never learned, particularly if we'd purchased a rather large pack of the gum. Even though we'd experienced multiple times for ourselves the flightiness of the flavor, we continued to chew our beloved Fruit Stripe on the premise of its novelty alone.

Is it not the most fantastically beautiful gum you've ever seen? Huh? Is it?

Though the gum claimed to come in a wide variety of fruity flavors, in reality it tended to come in a variety of fruity colors. You'd have to be a taste connoisseur to distinguish between these subtle differences, so we relied on the vibrantly colored sticks of gum to show us the way. We could only assume that the red was in some way vaguely symbolic of wild cherry and a yellow/green combination of hues represented the lemon lime delegation. The system wasn't perfect, but it was sweet, which is usually more than enough to satiate even the most precocious of children.

It was wonderfully convenient that the gum tended to come in a large pack as it provided a handy solution for its minuscule flavor life. It didn't take a genius IQ to figure out that adding another stick would freshen the ever-growing was of gum slowly taking over our cavernous mouthal cavity. Run out of flavor? No problem. Simply add another stick. Then another. And one more. Alright, so this clearly was not the perfect solution and our teeth weren't bowing down in enamel-depleted gratitude, but our parents probably were big fans of this trick. After all, a kid can't speak with a mouth chock full of Fruit Stripe gum. Sure, there was a minor choking hazard, but that's a small price to pay for ten minutes of silence in the car.

The Fruit Stripe people knew it would take more than a lamely-flavored albeit colorful gum to pique the fancy of children. They weren't taking their novelty product halfway, they were going for gold here. Hence the inclusion of the tattoo. Oh, the coveted tattoo! It was inexplicably desirable, despite the fact it was both worthless and blurry. Each stick came with its very own temporary tattoo, because what kid doesn't want a semi-permanent splotch of color smack dab in the middle of their cheek? I know I was keen.




The magic of the Fruit Stripe gum tattoo was in its pure, unadulterated simplicity. There were no bells and whistles on this thing. The instructions were brief: simply wet the tattoo (nearly all of us subbed the verb lick at this point), and apply with pressure to the desired skin surface for about 30 seconds. What could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, lots of things. The temporary tattooing process was not quite as straightforward as they'd led us to believe. We usually ended up with more of a smudge than a zebra. It was time for us to take drastic measures. Namely, to put the tattoos on our tongues. Yes, that's right. This non-toxic ink blob clinging to our taste buds was usually our greatest and wisest alternative. Sure, it wasn't necessarily the most attractive, or tastiest, or functional, or sensible, or...wait, where was I going with this?

Regardless of our questionable Fruit Stripe tattoo practices, the gum remained amongst our favorites for years. It was certainly a cheap thrill, and a short-lived one at that. It was one of those food fads for which we liked it because we liked it, and don't bother asking us any probing questions as to why. We'd suffer through endless wads of gooey, chewy, tastelessly bitter gum so long as it was colorful and came with a cheerful zebra on the package.




Like so many of our favorite snacks and candy in the 90s, we were foolishly lured in by a fast-talking anthropomorphic cartoon animal and vibrant neon colors. If they made it look fun in the commercial, you could bet we'd make it fun in real life. That's simple deductive logic. It didn't matter if a cereal tasted like cardboard or a gum tasted like unscented Silly Putty, it was ours. We as kids took ownership and laid full claim to novelty foods and there was nothing adults could do to stop us. We'd sooner loyally defend our beloved novelty sweets than cave to adult logic. Unless, of course, we had the entire pack of Fruit Stripe in our mouths.*



*This was a likely situation given the instantaneous flavor loss. Sure, you couldn't talk back to your parents, but you could blow a head-engulfing bubble. All in all, sort of a toss up.