They fight. They bite. They bite and fight and bite.

on Oct 21 in Uncategorized by

Remember me posting this a couple of weeks ago?:

If you ask Amy what she wants to be when she grows up she’ll give you one of two answers – either “a famous pop star” or “a horse riding teacher”. It’s very hard not to take these responses as a indication that I’ve failed as a father.

Well I’m delighted to inform you that I am not quite the parental wash-out that I first feared. Because although I’m still struggling to work out a strategy to steer my daughter through the cultural mire of banal vapid role models; my son has quietly forged his own path. And a glorious path it is too.

Evan will not grow up to be a pop star, or a horse rider, or a princess. Not for him is the cliched career of the soldier, fireman, or football player. No, Evan is going to be a member of the noblest profession of all – someone who hits other people over the head with a frying pan for a living.

Evan has discovered Tom and Jerry. To say he likes them is a bit like saying that my brother Sam likes looking at himself in the mirror. The boy is obsessed.

Evan’s attraction to the show could have something to do with the fact he’s been watching it up in our bedroom. There is something rather luxurious about watching TV in bed, and often that sense of opulence bleeds through and gives an additional shine to whatever you happen to be watching. How else can you explain how I managed to sit through three quarters of Spiderman 3 the other night before turning it off.

But, whatever the reason, Evan loves his Tom and Jerry. And to be honest I couldn’t be happier.

Which is interesting.

Time was Tom and Jerry was held up as an example of hyper violent children’s programming. As the worst specimen of a genre of cartoons that warped fragile minds and were bound to produce a generation of psychopaths. Recently repeats of the show have even been reviewed by OFCOM after complaints that it’s unsuitable for young children.

So why am I happy about Evan watching it? Why aren’t I as concerned about it as I am about Amy watching Hannah Montana? Surely if I am worried about the cultural influence of the Cyrus clan on my daughter’s aspirations then I should be even more worried about teaching my son that extreme violence is a form of entertainment? Why have I decided that one is acceptable, and one is a cultural canker?

Because I’m a hypocrite, that’s why. Quite simply I like Tom and Jerry and I don’t like Hannah Montana, it’s a plain and pathetic as that. I’ve even gone as far as actively encouraging his fascination with the cartoon. This morning I spent £25 on a 6 volume boxed set of Tom and Jerry cartoons (unless of course Kerry is reading this – then it only cost £6.99). I’ve even begun to consider whether to supplement it with a set of Daffy Duck and Bugs Bunny cartoons as well. My hypocrisy knows no bounds and I should be ashamed of myself .

Now here’s the bit where I try and justify myself.

Tom and Jerry is a classic. It was created by artists, and shows real craftsmanship. Sure, the artists were working to commercial pressures in an genre which was given little credibility at the time., but then again so was Raymond Chandler. Tom and Jerry theatrical shorts won 7 Oscars and were nominated for a further 6. The cartoons ooze a quality that is only surpassed by Warner Bro’s Looney Tunes and possibly the output of Pixar Studios today. They are full to the brim with slapstick, satire, and effortless comedy timing, and are a joy to watch even now nearly 70 years after they were first produced.

Compare that to the bland and tepid extended merchandising advert that is Hannah Montana. It’s just not a fair fight.

In addition I think there are huge cultural benefits in consuming entertainment from previous generations. My own love of shows such as Hancock’s Half Hour, Sgt Bilko, and Laurel and Hardy is pretty well documented here on the blog, and it started developing during childhood. Not only do such programs give me a stick by which to measure more modern media, but they expand my horizons and ability to cultivate a more refined palate. You only get to watch a finite number of TV shows in your lifetime, it’s probably best to try to make sure you consume as little shit as possible.

But still, I’m a hypocrite. And so I must continue to struggle to work out what I really think about TV and the effect it has on my kids. But the fact that the struggle even exists in my mind gives me some comfort. It shows that at least I’m not completely passive in all this. That I’m aware that there are decisions to be made, even if I’m not sure yet what those decisions should be.

Related posts:

  1. Aspirations
  2. Fight
  3. I’ve just been mugged
  4. A lament to stop motion

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