Polly Pocket and Mighty Max

What better toy to give curious young oral fixators than a little compact full of tiny, swallowable, and potentially delicious component pieces? These things were a choking hazard waiting to happen. In some cases, it didn't wait; it just hacked and coughed and received the child-size version of the Heimlich Maneuver. Yech.

Even with the building safety concerns over offering children protozoan-proportioned playthings, Polly Pocket and Mighty Max quickly became some of the most popular toys around. It seemed kids just couldn't get enough of the pocket-sized playsets. A brief choking stint was more than worth it in exchange for a chance to carry around an entire action figure universe in your pocket. I mean, really.

The concept behind Mighty Max and Polly Pocket was roughly the same mold adjusted for preset gender stereotypes. Both play sets featured small plastic cases that opened into a miniature dollhouse or action figure setting. Inside the fun chamber lay a slew of tiny hard plastic figurines and movable set pieces. There were all types of different scenarios and settings, but these toys were generally appealing on the basis of their small-size gimmick.

Unfortunately, their extreme portability made Mighty Max and Polly Pocket pieces extremely prone to loss. At approximately an inch or so in height, these toys were probably too small to be entrusted in the care of small children. Once you lost the main characters, the entire playset was rendered utterly useless until your parents came through with replacements. All in all, probably not the most well thought-out children's toy venture.

Logic aside, these things were hot sellers; their tininess was a novelty on which we couldn't afford to miss out. We could take these things anywhere. It was a pretty creative idea, of course: a dollhouse that fits in your pocket. It's like the doll version of a smartphone. Something that used to be a sedentary activity with a lot of bulky hardware was reduced to a convenient pocket-sized item that works on-the-go. Not totally necessary, but once someone has one we've all got to scramble for ownership.

The premise may have been the same for the Polly Pocket and Mighty Max toys, but the nature of the miniature worlds were vastly different. I was a Polly Pocket girl myself, but after further examination of the Mighty Max product line, I'm feeling just a smidgen underwhelmed with my tiny toy selection. Let's take a quick peek at what Mattel had to offer us, shall we? I think you might get an idea of what I mean.


The girls got this:

With a jazzy theme song like that, how could you deny the allure of these pearlized plastic chambers?

Whereas the boys got this:


Yes, that's right. Your eyes do not deceive you; girls get a little pink seashell-style enclosed dollhouse with a giggly cartoon spokessprite, and boys get a Skull Dungeon. In the boys' version, our hero sends a Frankenstein-esque monster plummeting to his death from the second story of the evil doctor's lair. In the girls', to contrast, our little blond darling gleefully enjoys a ride on a playground slide. Unsurprisingly, the girl version of the toy originated from a dad setting up his daughter with a super sweet makeup compact-cum-dollhouse. The boys' incarnation, we can only speculate, originated from awesome.

It may not have been a politically correct gender divide, but it was pretty standard toy marketing for the 90s. The girls got the vapid but cute dollies and boys get the guts and gore. It was just the natural McDonald's Happy Meal-style female/male breakdown.

That's not to say there was no gender cross-over with these things, though I'd put pretty strong odds that more parents felt comfortable buying Mighty Max toy sets for their daughters than Polly Pocket for their sons. There were also many, many more points of interaction available with the Mighty Max franchise. The Polly Pocket mini playshells may have come first, but the Mighty Max toys branched out into a legitimate mini-media empire.

Mighty Max became an animated TV series in 1993, following the adventures of young "Cap-Bearer" Max. Max receives in the mail a magical hat that granted him the power to transport him all over the world to fight evil in all of its monstrous cartoon incarnations. It had plenty of charm, plus it didn't hurt that Rob Paulsen provided the voice of Max. For those of you unfamiliar with his work, we're talking about the voice of Raphael from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Pinky and Yakko from Animaniacs (and later Pinky and the Brain), and Throttle from Biker Mice from Mars. I know, I know. Throttle. I'll give you a few moments to gather yourself following such exciting animation revelations.



Nintendo subsequently developed the Mighty Max character into a Super Nintendo game, leaving Polly Pocket in the toy empire dust as she languished in her makeup compact-style shell shaped mini-playhouses. Mighty Max had quickly grown into a small-scale multimedia franchise. To be fair, from a Super Nintendo perspective it's way more fun to battle evil zombies than to play quietly with friends in your upstairs nursery. Polly Pocket just didn't have the cross-marketing potential to be developed into a game like this one:




In comparison, the Polly Pocket empire was far more modest. To its credit, though, it ended up the franchise with the most staying power.

So, to review. Girls donned shiny ballerina tutus to hang with Polly, Dana, Stephanie, Billy, Becky in one of these:



And boys fought nuke rangers and neutralized zomboids in one of these:



It may not be a particularly enlightened marketing strategy, but hey, it worked. We all got what we wanted, more or less. In my case, I'm tempted to say less. I could have battled the killer T-Rex in the dino lab. Instead, I lost valuable formative hours revealing wrapped stuffed animals in Polly's Party-Time Surprise. Yes, that's right; I might have ended up with aspirations to be an adventure-seeking archeologist, but instead I learned the value of always bringing a well-wrapped birthday present with a shimmery bow. Reach for the stars.

Children of the 90s' Pop Girl Group Playlist

If you're looking to beat those Oh-My-God-How-Is-It-Still-Not-The-Weekend-Yet blues, look no further than this 90s pop girl group playlist. Alternately, it can also serve as a soothing remedy for those pesky post St. Paddy's Day hangovers. If you keep the volume very, very low, I mean.

The 90s is so often characterized as major era of boy bands, but the decade saw more than its fair share of wildly popular girl groups as well. They operated largely on the same principles: nonorganic formation through open casting calls, careful harmony arrangements, synchronized dancing moves galore. Whatever beef you may have with their impact on the legitimate singer/songwriter/musician profession, you've got to admit that they churn out some toe-tapping singles. One of these songs comes on and there's a pop-and-lock reflex we succumb to; I'm pretty sure I picked it up subliminally from my days of shaking to Darrin's Dance Grooves on VHS.

So throw your cautious music taste to the wind and give in to these guilty pleasures. They'll undoubtedly have you singing along at the top of your voice. Just don't make the mistake of leaving your car windows down--these are more than sure bets to induce all sorts of music superiority-gloating glances from your judgmental roadmates.


Wannabe (Spice Girls)


Spice Girls - Wannabe
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Ah, the classic. If by classic you mean gratingly shrill, then it's a perfect fit. Truthfully, you can criticize this song all you want but you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who grew up in the 90s who doesn't know all or most of the lyrics. It was just a pervasive part of popular youth culture, so you might as well embrace it. I heard if you do they'll treat you to a zig-a-zig-ah, so you've got that going for you.


Say My Name (Destiny's Child)



Remember when Beyonce wasn't just the leotard-donning star of the infamous Kanye-approved "Single Ladies" video or the cameo in Gaga's "Telephone?" With all her recent success, it's easy to forget that she's been in the game for so many years. Not just in the game, but winning it; this girl's been a part of more number-one hits than most musicians can aspire to in a lifetime. In the 90s, the Beyonce-fronted Destiny's Child released single after hot single. Admittedly their lineup changed over the years, but whoever was showing up at the studio that day always brought it.


Where my Girls At (702)



Whatever happened to 702? With the incredible popularity of their single "Where My Girls At" they seemed poised to be the next up-and-coming girl group. As unbelievable as it sounds, the group was discovered by Sinbad. I know, I know. I don't even mean the adventuring Middle Eastern sailor of legendary lore; that would almost make more sense. No the actor/comedian Sinbad caught these girls singing in the lobby of a Vegas hotel, went and chummed up with their parents to grant him rights to drag them to a music show in Atlanta, and the rest, as they say, was history. Really, really weird history.


My Lovin (You're Never Gonna Get It) (En Vogue)


Try to listen to this song without breaking into a lightly treaded backup of "No, you're never gonna get it/never never gonna get it." It's nearly impossible. Would you expect anything less from a group whose album is titled "Funky Divas"?


C'est La Vie (B*Witched)



Just look at those moves! They just don't cut girl groups from the same cheesy pop-and-lock choreography cloth that they used to. Enjoy this one in the true traditional spirit of St. Patrick's Day: drunk. No, no, actually you can just enjoy their bagpipe solo. Yes, really.


I Want You Back (Jackson 5 cover by Cleopatra)



I know, I know...I just as easily could have chosen their "Cleopatra--Coming Atcha" theme, but that seems like the easy way out. Plus, I still have this on all of my running and car trip playlists. This 1998 cover of their song "I Want You Back" may not have been as authentic as the Jackson 5 original, but it manages to capture the same breezy tone and catchiness. And hey, look on the bright side. I could have subjected you to Cleopatra's "Thank ABBA for the Music." Then we'd really be in trouble.*


Never Ever (All Saints)



As far as lengthy intros go, this is one of the most extensive. It's not even really an intro anymore--they may well have made it into a full spoken track, it's that long. It really builds anticipation for the main event, though, doesn't it? You just can't wait to find out what happens next. Spoiler alert: they sing.

If that just doesn't do it for you, maybe their debut "I Know Where It's At" will do it for you. I know it's left me scratching my head over what exactly happened to all those old mix tapes with this song on it. This used to be my jam in my maroon station wagon:




Waterfalls (TLC)



Many of us probably could enjoy this song a bit more in our blissful ignorance of young naivete; nowadays, we're forced to confront its message of drugs, violence, and irresponsible sexual behavior. In lieu of letting the cautionary tale get us down, maybe we should just watch the video and enjoy these girls grooving on the water. It's pretty cool, actually.


He Loves U Not (Dream)



This song came up on shuffle on my iPod the other day and I almost had a heart attack. How have I managed not to mention this song somewhere on this blog in the year it's been up and running? Granted, it technically came out in 2000, but it's just quintessential 90s girl group pop. Contrived, well-executed, and complete with a video full of colorfully dressed jailbait popping their heads back and forth in a sassy, in-your-face way.


No More (3LW)



This was also in 2000, so we were starting moving into a bit of a different sound. The general girl group principles still apply though, right down to the cutesy lisp in the first verse. 3LW cleverly stands for "3 Little Women," who didn't stay little too long. Like all good girl groups, their story ends in some petty squabbling that escalated into we-can-no-longer-appear-onstage-together level girlfights.


Push It (Salt N Pepa)



Just look at them pop in the VHS at the beginning of the video. Kids growing up today wouldn't even understand what's going on. A scary thought, right? My favorite part, though, is probably when they cut to a Girl Scout rockin' out in the crowd somewhere around 1:12. She looks all hopped up on Thin Mints and Samoas and she likes it. Thankfully she at least looks old enough to be audience to the racy lyrics. Whew.


Like all guilty pleasures, these songs should be enjoyed sparingly and as a part of a balanced musical diet featuring artists who play their own instruments. That said, there's no harm in occasionally venturing to the musical equivalent of the top corner of the food pyramid. The experience will likely be just as sweet and with comparable levels of artificial ingredients.




*Is it wrong to admit that I also have "Thank ABBA for the Music" on my iPod? Feel free to judge me, but I'll feel equally free to tell you it's awesome. Well, maybe not awesome, but at least serviceable. Okay, okay, fine. It might make your ears explode. Happy?

Jumanji

You know how we sometimes say we'll look back on a dark time in our life and laugh in retrospect? Well, such was the case with the 1995 film version of Jumanji. How were we to know that a dozen odd years later, the CGI animals that had so terrified us and had induced endless nightmares would seem like cuddly Disney animations in comparison to today's true-to-life graphics?

Facetiousness aside, the effects in the film absolutely deserve their due. At the time, Jumanji utilized some of the most advanced CGI technology available. Sure, the visual effects cower in the shadow of more recent digital imagery trailblazers like Avatar, but in the mid-90s that level of realism was almost unfathomable. In the three years between Jurassic Park and Jumanji, I probably slept a total of 12 hours. Heck, even Men in Black gave me nightmares, so just imagine the damage that could be done with a computer-animated stampede of rhinocerouses charging across my screen. Had 3-D technology been available for this movie, I'd have been a goner.

Jumanji originated as a 1981 children's book by Chris Van Allsburg, serving as a sort of cautionary for what can happen when magic-tinged board games go very, very wrong. The 1995 film version adhered largely to the same story, though it did introduce some colorful new grown-up characters like Robin William's wacky woodsman Alan Parrish. The movie tries its best to give us a legitimate backstory for a fantasy tale as it weaves a yarn filled with arbitrary details like a shoe factory, a bully, and a bicycle. If you're not scratching your head yet at this movie-built premise, don't worry: you will be.



To his credit, Robin Williams makes a great man-child. It's what he did best in the 90s, so he was a pretty natural casting choice for the role of Alan Parrish. The movie begins in the 19th century as we watch a pair of fear-stricken young boys bury an ominous looking chest deep in the woods. When one asks the other what happens if someone digs it up, his pal replies darkly, "May God have mercy on his soul." How's that for a bright and cheery beginning?

Fast forward to the late 60s, where middle schooler Alan Parrish faces daily lashings at the hand of a school bully. Alan meddles a bit in production at his father's shoe factory and causes some shake-up. To make matters worse, he gets beat up outside the factory and his bike is stolen by the aforementioned bullies. Just when he thinks his day couldn't sink any further into the annals of adolescent desperation, Alan stumbles upon a dusty drum beat-emitting game box at a construction site.



Alan's father is displeased with him and wants to send him to boarding school, so in typical rational well-thought out childlike fashion, Alan decides to run away. Not, though, before laying into the mysterious game he unearthed earlier that day. Alan's classmate Sarah comes over with his stolen bicycle and the two embark on a game of Jumanji. It's totally creepy, but the kids are getting really into it. When it's Alan's turn, a frightening message appears on the game board: "In the jungle you must wait, until the dice read five or eight." He's then unceremoniously sucked into the veritable vacuum of the Jumanji world, presumably never to be seen again.




Until, that is, a new family moves into the house a quarter century later. Peter and Judy (Kirsten Dunst) are recent orphans on the move with their new guardian, Aunt Nora, but even newcomers like them can sense this house is incredibly sketchy and potentially haunted. Those damned drumbeats start again, reissuing their generation-spanning intoxicating pull over children. Judy and Peter come across the Jumanji board in the attic, and although it's pretty clear to the rest of us that this is the worst idea in the world, they immediately begin playing. I'm not sure why ominous drum beats never seemed like a warning sign to anyone in this movie, only an invitation. Go figure.

As you might expect, things quickly take a turn for the frightening and fantastical. Giant insects and roaming animals take up shop in their home, but the board swears to them it'll all be cool if they just keep playing. Right. Peter rolls a five and Alan's late-60s prophecy is broken, releasing the jungle man back into the civilized confines of his former dwelling. Oh, and there's also a lion. Did I not mention the lion? Because it is terrifying. Even now, it still scares me a little. That thing is growly.



Alan cleans up a bit and does some investigating into his old life, finding that his father searched relentlessly for him throughout the remainder of his life. Now that Peter and Judy have released havoc on their sleepy New Hampshire town, they can't seem to keep the game moving; the board seemingly issues a cease and desist on their gameplay, leaving us to fear this lion-infested world is the new permanent norm. Alan realizes that they've been playing a continuation of the game he played with his friend Sarah, so they go off to seek her out. How exactly a man who was sequestered to the jungle at 12 had such powerful deductive reasoning skills is beyond my grasp, but in a world where gameboards release swarms of killer mosquitoes it seems that anything can happen.

The gang head's over to Sarah's and discover she's become a shut-in, forever reliving the trauma of her Jumanji experience. I'm sure the one thing this Jumanji-traumatized lady wants to do is pick up playing right where she left off and cut her nearly-healed psychological wounds right back open again. Sarah (Bonnie Hunt) is not having it, so they are forced to trick her into playing her turn.



Alan reaches out to Carl, the man his father fired from his factory for Alan's mistake. Carl (David Alan Grier) is now a policeman and is thus pulled in to all of this havoc-wreaking chaos on the town. Here's where things get all sorts of terrifying. We get a full big game jungle stampede, people-snatching giant vines, a long-trapped hunter, and a batty pelican that interferes with their quest to finish the game once and for all. Peter tries to cheat and turns into a monkey, which is a pretty harsh means of teaching kids to practice good sportsmanship. Giant flowers eat police cars, the kids battle the hunter, and things continue to spiral downward at a rapid code red pace.



Our man Alan finally takes the game and cries out with the requisite "Jumanji!" All of the craziness gets sucked back into the game board. After all that scariness, this movie partakes in the ultimate reset button function and sets us all back at zero. Sarah and Alan get to return to 1969 and set everything right. Alan tells his father what he did to Carl, and Mr. Parrish rehires him. Plus, Alan doesn't have to go to boarding school and the Jumanji board is forever buried in the water. Hooray!



Time scoots forward yet again and Alan and Sarah are happily married. As if all of that wrong-righting hadn't been enough, these do-gooders convince Peter and Judy's now still-living parents (did you follow that?) not to take what Alan knew to be their ill-fated skiing trip. I just knew there had to be some impact on that darned space-time continuum.



As we come to end, we find that Jumanji has not, as presumed, been laid to rest. We get our scary drum beats again, and some French girls walking along the beach are mere feet away from the game washed up upon their shore. Just when you thought it was safe, they pull the rug from under you, leaving us to speculate the future terrors that lie ahead in a world where computer animation has grown not only more advanced but progressively more realistically frightening. Yikes.