Review: The Flintstones

Originally published July 8, 1994, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1077

When I was a kid, every Friday night was The Flintstones. The animated family was a part of my life for, literally, as long as I could remember. I looked forward to Fred giving that opening bellow of “Yabba dabba doo” and sliding down that bronto tail at the beginning of the show.

(Curiously, unlike contemporary catch phrases that work their way into vernacular such as “D-oh!” or “Isn’t that special” or even “I didn’t inhale,” we kids didn’t actually go around shouting “Yabba dabba doo.” I mean, we knew the phrase, and we knew it was Fred’s, but we didn’t try to imitate it. Maybe we just didn’t want to talk like cartoon characters. Nowadays that doesn’t seem to be quite as true. I hear “huh huh huh” from kids and even, God help us, adults, in imitation of cartoon characters whose animation is so pathetic that it makes the limited animation Flintstones look like Fantasia. But I digress…)

Fred would then hurtle through the streets in that funky car of his, pick up Wilma and Dino (and Pebbles, in later years), and head out to the drive-in, accompanied by cheerfully sung lyrics that I couldn’t quite make out. It always sounded to me like, “Let’s ride with the family down the street, through the coorapeapetra Beat.” I had no clue as to what the coorapeapetra might possibly be, and why it might have a beat to it.

I decided (being an amateur paleontologist, as were many kids my age) that maybe it was some sort of period of mankind’s evolution, similar to the Mesozoic Era. And the “beat” part was a musical reference (this was the 60s, remember, so terms like “dig that crazy beat” were not uncommon.) So I searched my books and encyclopedias for reference to the mysterious Coorapeapetra age of mankind. And if anyone reading this thinks this was incredibly stupid on my part, I would point out that Coorapeapetra doesn’t sound any weirder than Cretaceous, or even archaeopetryx.

Of course, I never did find any information on the “Coorapeapetra Beat,” probably because the song lyric was, in fact, “Through the courtesy of Fred’s two feet.”

I know I’m not alone on this, because last summer there was a trailer for The Flintstones movie from Amblin (produced by Steven Spielrock, of course) consisting of the lyrics with the theme song and a Follow-the-bouncing-boulder sing-along. And when they got to that line, I heard murmurs from all around me of “Ooohhhhh!” as if an ages-old question had been solved for fellow audience members.

Which brings us, finally and inevitably, to this column. Specifically, a discussion of The Flintstones. A film that has set box office records in its opening weeks, so I’m sure that movie moguls and fans everywhere are simply on pins and needles waiting to hear what I have to say, as if it’s going to make a bit of difference.

You. Yes, you, the reader. Chances are, you’ve seen it already. Look to the right and left of you, at anyone sitting around you. Bet they saw it, too. I should say right up front that the first word that comes to mind with Flintstones is: Impressive.

Essentially, a director, some actors, set designers, costumers, and enough writers to field both sides of a full squad football game, all got together with one goal. To try and take an animated series and make a perfect translation into live action.

Of course, one can also take it into one’s head that one should try bungee jumping nude into broken glass. The same question can be addressed to both, namely… Why? On a creative basis, there’s no point to it at all.

In the case of the Flintstones, it’s pretty much the same motivations as with the pending legal actions taken against the Lyons Group over the theme song of Barney (no, not Rubble; the other, original Barney. Although I was told of an illustration at a convention art show that had an irate Fred Flintstone facing off against Barney the purple dinosaur, the latter with a small distinctive bow protruding from between his teeth. And Fred is saying in great annoyance, “Barney! You ate my Pebbles!”)

In the Barney case, the suit involves authorship of Barney’s trademark “I love you, you love me” theme song. The gut reaction to this suit on a creative level is, “My God, you mean people are actually fighting to want credit for that thing?”

But we’re not talking about artistic or creative fulfillment. We’re talking money. There’s a ton of money to be made off the Barney theme.

Likewise, there’s a ton of money to be made off Flintstones. Because, if it’s pulled off correctly, then it taps into that national zeitgeist of childhood memories as today’s parents (yesterday’s cartoon worshippers) bring their own kids to worship at the alter of Fred and Barney. And lo, there will come the toys, and McDonalds tie-ins (excuse me… RocDonalds. How come not McDinos?) and all the other stuff that those of my generation couldn’t get when we were kids ’cause our parents held the purse strings. But now we get to make the decisions. There’s something giddily revolutionary over buying Flintstones toys without having to beg your parents for it. It’s almost like you’re getting away with something.

(What I did have when I was a kid were Flintstone building blocks, which were these styrofoam interlocking blocks that you could build a small house out of and crawl into. Except my houses always fell apart. But the block were always fun to chew on for some reason. I never did manage to get one of those cool toys of Fred sitting on his dinosaur crane. It was too expensive. Now if they had it in a store, I could buy it immediately. A rebel without a clue am I.)

However, the filmmakers had to be careful not to muck with the precious recollections of our collective childhoods, and so nothing has been overlooked in endeavors to get everything right. This is truly staggering when one keeps in mind that this is a Hollywood production. Hollywood has played fast and loose with everything from award-winning Broadway plays to some of the great works of American and English literature. (If I remember correctly, the latest one I’d heard was a version of The Scarlet Letter where everyone lives happily ever after.) Yet when it comes to a 1960s cartoon series, absolutely attention is paid to the slightest detail. It’s impressive to see where Hollywood’s priorities are.

Everything is there, including Fred’s (John Goodman) opening slide down the tail of his bronto-crane. The smart-mouthed prehistoric creatures that double as household fixtures. Fred’s famous bowling style including running on his toes to a sort of piano-plink sound effect. A rock and roll song called the “Bedrock Twitch.” Betty (Rosie O’Donnell) and Wilma (Elizabeth Perkins) shouting “Charrrrrge it!” followed by a machine-gun rapid giggle.

The only two variants I noticed was that they played Pebbles older than in the TV series (in the film she’s ambulatory, but on TV all she did was crawl) and Fred’s recounting of how he met Wilma doesn’t jibe with the animated version. Other than that, though, it’s meticulous.

The story is wafer thin, but even that’s in keeping with the series, which wasn’t exactly plot heavy anyway. Consider how slight the plot is, though, you’d think that at least they could have produced one that didn’t have hole you could throw… well… boulders through.

You could of course argue that if you buy the premise, you buy the bit. If one accepts the conceit that cavemen lived like the Flintstones, one should then accept the whole premise. Wrong. Internal logic and plot consistency is mandatory, and even fantasies should be subject to common sense.

In this case, evil Mr. Vandercave (Kyle McLaughlin), an executive at Slate and Company, schemes to embezzle money from the company. But he needs a stooge to pin the theft on. He administers an aptitude test to the gravel pit employees. The intention is to use the guy who scores highest to be their patsy.

This, of course, is ridiculous. They should get the worker who scores lowest, so that he’d be the most easily manipulated. As it so happens, they manage to do just that, because Fred’s pal Barney (Rick Moranis) switches his and Fred’s tests in an effort to help Fred get a promotion. But even Fred eventually starts to catch wise. If it had been the much-sharper Barney instead, he’d have nailed the entire scheme inside of two days.

Or the plot development towards the climax of the film in which we are expected to believe that somehow, between scenes, Vandercave managed single-handedly to break into the Flintstone’s house, overwhelm Wilma’s formidable mother (played by the equally formidable Elizabeth Taylor), tie her up, and kidnap and tie up not only baby Pebbles but, incredibly, Bamm Bamm. Anyone who remembers the TV series (and the producers are assuming that’s everyone) knows that Bamm Bamm is known as the strongest baby on earth. That’s an understatement. The skinny Vandercave is no match for the bulky Fred, but traditionally Fred has been no match for Bamm Bamm. That tradition is honored (along with all other Flintstones canon) in the film.

Granted, Bamm Bamm doesn’t grab Fred by the finger and slam him back and forth in greeting, as was his wont. But he does effortlessly moves his parent’s furniture, hurl a ball with such velocity that it knocks Barney back a good twenty feet, and nearly send Pebbles into orbit on a swingset. How in heaven’s name Vandercave managed to accomplish the formidable task of subduing this mutant toddler without looking like he’d been through a war is beyond me.

But here I am criticizing a plot in this movie when it’s not really about plot. It’s about cute gimmicks and funny lines and ingenious gags and more lousy puns about rocks than anyone should ever have to sit through.

That, it’s got plenty of.

It’s also got a cast that’s trying its best. The problem is that, as with a bad dye job, the roots are showing. It’s all right for characters to be cartoonish when they’re cartoons. But now we have actors trying to make them flesh and blood individuals about whom we’re going to care for 90 minutes. Nostalgia, after all, only takes you so far. And oftentimes they serve only to remind the audience, all too strongly, of the derivative nature of the entire enterprise.

Goodman, for example, reminds one too often of Jackie Gleason… naturally, since Gleason’s Ralph Kramden was the prototype for Fred. Likewise Rick Moranis evokes Art Carney’s Ed Norton. Goodman and Moranis are trying… lord, how they’re trying. Actors thrive on making characters “their own.” Giving them personal touches and flourishes and getting into their heads. But they’re deprived of that here, and consequently they often seem uncomfortable. The tenor of Goodman’s voice keeps changing, and Moranis has a stoop-shouldered, uncomfortable look that makes him seem constipated. He has also dispensed with Barney’s signature hyena-like laugh, so the character just comes across as perpetually pained.

Elizabeth Perkins is watchable as Wilma, although we never really get a feeling for her beyond her being a fairly common-sense, patient woman (she’d have to be.) The only time she really shines is in a dance sequence in the aptly named “Cavern on the Green.”

Only two characters really seem fun. No, make that three.

The first is Rosie O’Donnell’s Betty. O’Donnell has the most latitude, since the original Betty was the most undefined of the core characters. She was Barney’s wife and Wilma’s sounding board, and that was it. O’Donnell adds a marvelous air of plaintiveness and endless (even desperate) optimism to Betty that helps bring her beyond the confines of her animated origin. She also nails Betty’s trademark laugh, giving her that “official” air. (Sure, she’s not as wasp-waisted as Betty. Who is?)

Second is Halle Berry as Vandercave’s increasingly unenthused co-conspirator, and Fred’s secretary. Originally her character was called “Sharon Stone.” This was genuinely funny when Sharon Stone was going to be playing the role. But Stone decided against it, and they changed the character’s name to “Rosetta Stone.” Now that’s funny. Clever and wry and sharp… and then dropped when it was decided that the pun was not going to be understood by enough people. They went back to Sharon Stone. Heaven forbid that a joke in The Flintstones should appeal to something other than the lowest common denominator. Still, Berry is sexy and fun and is liberated by not having to live up to an animated predecessor.

The third is the tart-tongued, snotty Dictabird, Fred’s office equipment who knows far more of what’s going on than Fred does. The fun aspect of this is that the Dictabird is voiced by Harvey Korman, whom fans with long memories will recall as the Great Gazoo… an alien character who showed up in the show’s later years. Gazoo’s presence was ill-advised because he was a lousy character, but Korman was fun to listen to. And he is once again.

Plus the Jurassic Park technology is put to good use, as Jim Henson’s creature factory is seamlessly combined with computer animation. There’s one sequence, for example, where Pebbles in her high chair feeds something to a puppet Dino. Dino then ducks down out of camera for an eyeblink, and a moment later a computer animated Dino dashes out the door with the food.

There are things I wish had been in the film. For instance, I understand them wanting to stick to the 1960s mentality, but thirty years have passed since then. Couldn’t anyone come up with a stone-age computer? A fax? A VCR? In a film where so much imagination was expended on creative regurgitation, it might have been nice if some had been spared to come up with something new. Well, maybe in the inevitable sequel.

Is the movie worth seeing?

Yeah, sure. Why not. Fun to take your kids to, and there is something to be said for the shared anticipation of an audience saying, “Look! They’re bringing out the giant spare ribs! The whole car’s gonna tip over… there it goes!”

And sure enough, it does.

It would seem that the creative philosophy of The Flintstones is the same as Holiday Inn: “The Best Surprise is No Surprise.”

(Peter David, writer of stuff, wonders if we’ll finally now see a Jetsons live-action film, featuring the dream casting of Danny DeVito as Mr. Spacely. Hey, at least the lyrics to the theme are impossible to misunderstand.)