The Most Awards 1999

Originally published January 14, 2000, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1365

 

Yes, it’s that time again: The annual awarding of the “Most Awards,” named after the immortal Donny Most for no particular reason. In keeping with the pointlessness of naming them after the actor who portrayed Ralph on Happy Days, these awards are randomly given out to totally arbitrary categories in whatever way it suits the voting body (namely me). Which, when you get down to it, is pretty much how all awards are put together.

Most ungrateful parents: Pressure groups going after Harry Potter. Here we have parents and educators extolling the virtues of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series (or, as we in the industry like to call it, the Books of Magic rip-off). Here’s a group of books that Gameboy-obsessed kids are actually picking up and reading, reducing some parents to tears of joy that finally, finally, something clicked. Yet now scare groups are trying to get the books pulled from schools because of the presence of dark and frightening magic in the books. They’re worried about the negative influence it could have on today’s youth. As Jon Stewart dryly said on The Daily Show, these groups are “diligently protecting America’s youth from an 11-year-old fictional character.”

Let’s weigh the odds on this one. What are the odds of kids reading Harry Potter and taking up black magic (chances: minimal) versus the odds of kids wanting to read other material once they’ve devoured the existing books, including other fantasy novels and perhaps even—gasp—comic books (chances: pretty darned good)? I think I’ll play those odds, thanks.

Most impressive film debut by a videogame character: The World is Not Enough. Yes, that’s right. With absolutely no fanfare whatsoever, James Bond suddenly found himself side-by-side with Lara Croft of Tomb Raider, played by Denise Richards with far less animation that Lara usually displays. Sure, sure, she changed out of the outfit and called herself “Christmas Jones” (providing a punchline I saw coming about two seconds after the name was uttered), but we know who she really was.

Most overreaction by a publisher of comic books: Archie Comics. Archie execs went postal when Melissa Joan Hart, a.k.a. Sabrina the Teen-Age Witch, did a photo layout for Maxim magazine. This “Bare Witch Project,” as it were, depicted Hart in a lingerie layout that was about as erotic and revealing as a Sears catalog. But Archie demanded that she offer a profuse apology for corrupting the purity of the character. Yeah, right, witches are considered by Americans to be the ideal role models for America’s youth, that’s why parents’ groups are going after the Harry Potter books. It’s not as if Hart did an interview in Nickelodeon magazine in which she told kids that they should give the Sabrina drinking game a whack; the overlap between young viewers and Maxim’s audience is minimal-to-non-existent.

Besides, I think the Archie folks forever forfeited the right to sanctimoniously ride around on their high horses after they allowed the production of the Return to Riverdale movie 10 years ago. (Veronica flouncing around in a teddy to seduce Archie? Oh, yeah. That’s instructive to kids everywhere.)

Most interesting real-world application of comic-book logic: The Jim Carrey-Andy Kaufman connection. Reviewers are already saying that Carrey’s impersonation of Kaufman is beyond uncanny. Ahhh, but no one has made mention of the following simple question: Has anyone seen Jim Carrey and Andy Kaufman together? Hmm? Hmm? That was all Lois Lane needed for decades to try to establish a one-and-the-same riff for Clark Kent and Superman.

In all seriousness… I still refuse to believe Kaufman is dead. I’ve said it before; I’ll say it again: I think he faked it. The timing is too precise, the nature too bizarre. Me, I think Kaufman is off in a Tibetan monastery somewhere, laughing at the world that has transformed him into a legend and he’s waiting to see if the film and Carrey are up for Oscars. Imagine Jim Carrey winning for Best Actor. He stands there on stage and says, “But you know… this award is really for Andy.” At which point Kaufman comes out, turns google-eyed to the audience, says, “Tenk you veddy much,” and walks off. Many would call it the biggest news of a resurrection in 2,000 years: Bigger. After all, the last guy credited with a return from the dead was only gone for three days and he needed God’s help.

Hmm. Jim Carrey. Check the initials. Coincidence? I think not…

Most annoying addition to the Star Wars canon: Midichlorians. Yes, I know, I know, you thought it was Jar-Jar Binks. It’s natural that you would think so. But, no, it’s midichlorians, introduced in The Phantom Menace as a pseudo-science underpinning for The Force. This torques me for several reasons.

First, it undercuts the best-known line from the first three films: “May The Force be with you.” Well, that’s no longer something you can really cross your fingers over and hope for the best, now, is it? Either The Force is going to be with you or it’s not, and the question of whether The Force is coming along for the ride was determined at your birth. It doesn’t matter whether your heart is pure or you believe in your cause or you’re fighting for the right or the fates are on your side. It’s predestined, depending upon how many members of this strange little symbiotic race are floating around in your bloodstream.

Second, remember how Grand Moff Tarkin referred to the Jedis’ philosophies as a “religion.” That’s how I always viewed it: a belief system. A spiritual thing that, if you worked at it long enough, rewarded you with the ability to kick butt and take names on a cosmic level. T.M. with teeth.

I liked the notion that one’s capability for accomplishment was predicated entirely upon one’s personal dedication, bravery, and purity of vision. The notion that Jedis are chosen on the basis of a blood test is absolutely appalling. It transforms the Jedi Knights from spiritually uplifted and knowing individuals to a biologically predetermined master race.

I mean, c’mon. Darth Vader was able to tell that The Force was strong within Luke while he was flying kilometers behind him at high speed during an aerial death duel. I think everyone felt it was a given that Jedis just “know” this stuff. Did they really need to add the science-fiction equivalent of an EPT test?

Most aptly named merchandise: Willow in Tight Red Pants. “Buffy and Angel fans, take notice!” declares the Another Universe catalog. “[We have] acquired an exclusive super-sexy variant… figure, and it can be yours free!” The name of the variant figure? “Willow in Tight Red Pants.” And there’s a nice color picture of her, with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, and, sure enough, she’s wearing tight red pants. I don’t know why this breaks me up. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of the insidiously catchy “Devil with the Blue Dress On.” Maybe it’s because of the contrast it provides to, say, the seemingly endless line of Batman figures. “Batman in Battle-Ready Action Glider!” “Batman in Snow Camouflage Armor!” “Willow in Tight Red Pants!” Or maybe it’s just the way the words roll trippingly off the tongue: “Willow in Tight Red Pants.”

They only have 5,000 left. For the record, she’s also wearing a very nice loose-sleeved blue shirt with gold trim and what appear to be standard-issue Keds. But, you know—it’s really the tight red pants that make the ensemble. I may just run out and get myself a pair.

And, speaking of Buffy, et al…

Most odd display of showbiz responsibility: Delaying Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s season ender. As a result of the Columbine shooting, it was decided that the second episode of “Graduation Day,” the climactic two-parter that wrapped the third season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, would be delayed so as not to upset the already-frazzled high school kids. Apparently, you see, the show involved mayhem at the high school.

The problem is that practically any episode of the first three seasons of Buffy you can think of involved, to some degree, mayhem at the high school. It’s always far-fetched mayhem, and this time out was no exception. While crime dramas displaying guns and bombs (the weapons of choice for real-world chaos) continued unabated on networks, the episode that was delayed involved the student body of Sunnydale High unleashing a barrage of arrows, spears, pitchforks, and flamethrowers against a gigantic serpent, who was only dispatched when the library was blow up (the power of the printed word, indeed.) Why, precisely, was this preempted? Because it was going to upset teens?

What teen could possibly see any connection between such an obvious fantasy setting and the real-world horrors unleashed in Colorado? Because it was going to inspire imitative behavior? Well—good. I should hope it would. If a giant serpent attacks a high school, I’d like to think the kids would muster some sort of defense, rather than just stand about and get eaten.

Most obvious means of killing two birds with one stone: Rudy, mayor of New York and noted defender of artistic freedom, is earning himself more friends. He’s endeavoring to introduce new policy which would mandate that—if homeless individuals do not take jobs offered them—then not only would they be thrown out of homeless shelters, but their children would be taken away and placed in foster care. Every group from support-the-homeless organizations to those manning the already-overburdened foster care program had a fit, and Rudy suddenly found himself back in court. I’m sure the courts were just thrilled to see him so soon after ruling against his attempts to deprive the Brooklyn Museum of funding because of the controversial “Sensations” exhibit.

So how can Rudy kill two birds with one you-know-what? Simple. If he’s really worried about keeping the homeless gainfully employed, he should hire them to picket the Brooklyn Museum. He could even form them into a for-hire all-purpose “strikeforce.” He could call them “Rudy’s Raiders.” They would be available to go anywhere, anytime, for the purpose of protesting whatever they’re needed to protest. If nothing else, they could follow “Sensations” around.

Most annoying toy packaging: The Beatles Yellow Submarine figures. There’s no disputing the on-model perfection of the figures themselves. And each of the four Beatles comes packaged with an additional figure (the Blue Meanie, the Submarine itself, etc.). But the only way you can get the Old Fred figure is to purchase the big honkin’ boxed set of The Beatles. Which I’d be happy to do—except that the boxed set doesn’t have the Meanie and other add-ons. Just Fred. Which means that it’s impossible to just have one of everyone; you have to buy two sets of The Beatles themselves, no matter what you do. That kinda stinks.

I have a couple more “Mosts” to hand out, but they’ll wait until next week.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)