Andy Griffith RIP

                Another part of our cultural heritage is gone forever. Andy Griffith, comedian, singer, and television icon, has died at the age of 86.

                  The Andy Griffith Show was and remains one of my all-time favorites. It has a gloriously good nature to it, as simple and unaffected as any small country town. Small town sheriff Andy Taylor (Griffith) was the calm eye in the center of a hurricane of crazies, ranging from his incompetent deputy and best friend Barney Fife (Don Knotts) to slack-jawed gas-station attendant Gomer Pyle (Jim Nabors). Every week Andy would have to try to solve some local problem, usually brought on or exacerbated by Barney, while bringing up his young son, Opie (Ronny Howard) with the slightly dubious help of his bustling, naïve Aunt Bea (Frances Bavier).

                  The joys of the show were manifold, so much that it would take pages and pages to give it its due. There’s the beautiful father-son relationship between Andy and Opie, with Andy doing his best to bring up his son right and Opie alternatively getting into trouble and learning life lessons. There’s the painfully funny antics of Barney, who takes his job extremely seriously, despite his almost complete ineptitude at it (Andy only lets him carry one bullet…which he’s forbidden from keeping in his gun). There’s the easy-going charm and quirks of small-town life, where everyone knows everyone (a particularly funny episode has Gomer placing Barney under ‘citizen’s arrest,’ to the cheers of the assembled crowd).

                  But at its heart was Andy Griffith’s firm, friendly, and level-headed Sheriff Taylor. He was a character who was thoroughly admirable without being idealized; a true man, a loving-though-firm father, a loyal friend, and, through it all, a delightfully funny and engaging character.

                  Griffith’s Sheriff Taylor was a television icon, and had he done nothing else his place in American history would have been assured. But that wasn’t all he did. He starred in numerous other works, including the spinoff, Mayberry RFD, and created another iconic television character in the form of the deceptively-genial southern lawyer Matlock.

                  Griffith was a giant of the television art form and The Andy Griffith Show is one of the finest examples of the medium’s first golden age. It has a strong claim to be America’s all-time favorite comedy series. Through it and through his many other works Griffith brought laughter, joy, and inspiration to millions. We shall not look upon his like again. 

 

   Requiescat in Pace.

Lessons from the Sandman

One of my favorite characters in The Spectacular Spider-Man is Flint Marko, AKA the Sandman: a small-time crook who gets turned into living sand by an unethical experiment at the behest of the crime boss, Tombstone. What’s interesting about him is that he’s not really a bad man at heart; he’s just a very small man. Marko was a petty thug whose whole life’s ambition was ‘a big score,’ an ambition that not only led to his getting frequently beaten up by Spider-Man, but also meant that he could be easily manipulated by the likes of Hammerhead, Tombstone’s number-two man. Marko is such a nobody in Hammerhead’s eyes, so easily pushed around, that he sometimes gets used as nothing but bait to trap Spider-Man. He’s just a simple, ignorant thug: a ‘mook’ as Hammerhead dismissively calls him.

                  After his transformation in the Sandman, Marko’s life still doesn’t improve. He’s more powerful than Spider-Man now, but his stupidity means that he still gets regularly defeated as Spider-Man is able to consistently outsmart him. He wins a couple battles, manages some successful robberies, but his ‘big score’ is still constantly out of reach…partially because Tombstone takes hefty cuts out of everything he steals.

                  It’s never explicitly stated, but the implication is that Tombstone and Hammerhead purposefully shorten Marko’s take to keep him hungry for more. Marko himself has no interest in their crime kingdom, or who rules New York, or even in taking down Spider-Man (which leads to friction between him and his friend, Alex O’Hirn AKA the Rhino).

                  This last point is interesting: most of the villains in the series have a personal grudge against Spidey, either because they blame him for their present condition (Electro, Vulture, Venom) or are sore from previous defeats (Rhino, Doctor Octopus, Kraven). Sandman has no interest in anything like that. “Revenge is for chumps,” he tells Hammerhead dismissively. “I don’t care about Spider-Man! All I want is a decent score.” Indeed, most of the time when they fight Sandman is content merely to knock Spidey around a little rather than actually try to kill him (though he’s certainly willing to do so if Spider-Man keeps pushing him).

                  He also is shown to have a softer side. At one point, seeing a little girl on the beach mocked by some bullying teenagers for her failed sandcastle, he uses his powers to turn the entire beach into a full-sized castle to cheer her up…a move that earns him a sneer from Hammerhead.  

                  Basically, Marko is, for all his powers, a rather pathetic figure: chasing after something that will never make him happy and allowing less powerful men to use him for their own ends. He has no grand schemes, no ambition, and apparently no real thought for his future life: he’s like a dog chasing a fake rabbit while men who otherwise wouldn’t spare him a thought use him to line their own pockets.

                  In short, Marko is a lot like most of us: squandering our gifts by chasing after pathetic and illusory goals that place us in the power of other men. “Buy this and you’ll be happy…as long as you also get this expansion pack, this upgrade, this newer, better version…” “Take this medication and you’ll be happy…” Like Marko, we don’t see that we’re being had and that what we’re chasing after simply isn’t worth it: it’s not what will make us happy.

                  In particular, though, I’m thinking about sex. Sex is an amazingly powerful thing: it’s the creation of new life. The most expensive, well-funded laboratory on Earth can’t even do that yet. Not only that, but it’s the creation of a new soul: a new person. As Chesterton noted, every time someone is born, the world is created all over again. And then in addition it’s a unifying act, solidifying the bond between two people as almost nothing else does, to the point where Christ described those committing it as being “no longer two, but one flesh.”

                  But these days, what do we do with it? We use it to sell stuff and as something to do on a Friday night. We’re kept in a constant state of sexual desire by advertisements, media, and whatever else because, as C.S. Lewis pointed out, people in that state have very little sales resistance. We’ve been taught that sex is the greatest thing in the world, so we dump a hundred bucks to pretend to have it, or pick up a total stranger at a bar to spend an hour or so having a sterile, fun-park version of it.

                  What a waste. Something is simultaneously the greatest physical pleasure that can be had and among the most staggeringly spiritual actions that can be performed, and we use it as a game or a source of income. We’re chasing after the least part of something at the expense of the greater parts: a little like going to a high-class restaurant and only eating from the bread tray, or like Marko using his literally earth-shaking power to knock off banks.

                  At one point Spider-Man let’s the Sandman have it, calling him ‘pathetic’ for wasting his time on these stupid, petty jobs when he could be doing some real good with his powers. And he’s clearly right: Sandman is arguably Spider-Man’s most powerful foe (certainly he’s in the top five): if he wanted to he could probably dump half the other villains in the city on the steps of the nearest police station in about five minutes. His potential for doing good is even greater than Spider-Man’s. But he’s so caught in his narrow, ignorant mindset that he can’t see his own potential. A man who literally has no trouble stopping an oil tanker allows himself to be pushed around by a guy whose only power is a steel-plated forehead and doesn't even realize how pathetic that is.

                  But Marko isn’t completely hopeless. When faced with a crisis, he instinctively steps up to the plate. During the climactic fight of his final episode, the Sandman manages to accidentally trash the oil tanker he was supposed to be robbing. With fires raging and the tanker moments away from exploding (in the middle of the East River, which would presumably kill several hundred people at least), he looks contritely at Spider-Man and says “I was just in it for the bucks. I never meant for this to happen.”

                  Marko retains a sense of perspective which the other villains, like Tombstone or Hammerhead, lack. He may crave money, but there’s still a part of him that understands that there are more important things. Having endangered so many lives, he works to mitigate the damage, first getting the crew (and Spider-Man) off the ship, then surrounding it and absorbing the explosion, saving the lives of everyone in range at the risk of his own.

                  I think most of us, no matter how much we buy into the lies we hear about sex, still maintain a sense of perspective: the sense that it really should be more than just a game, just like however much we buy into consumerism we remain aware that there is more to life. Like the Sandman, we don’t always keep it in mind or articulate that knowledge, but it’s still there, and when things reach a crisis point that perspective is what saves us from becoming monsters.

                  Flint Marko is a fascinating character because I think most of us are more like him than we are Spider-Man: a little cynical, a little petty, convinced that we only need this one thing to make us happy while we squander the opportunities for happiness that actually come our way. We dream about greatness while we actually push aside our chances for greatness…but perhaps, when it matters the most, we'll take the chance to, as Spider-Man says, “score as big as a man can.”

Leave it to Beaver; Introduction and characters, part 1

I am a huge fan of ‘Leave it to Beaver.’
Partially this is because I simply love the era which it exemplifies; the 1950’s. Sure, I know there were lots of problems back then, and certain social laws and expectations that had to change, but ultimately I’ll take that over what we’ve got instead. But, never mind that now.
More importantly, it was simply a great show. One of the things that annoys me to no end is hearing people dismiss it as simplistic, overly sunny, or even stupid. It wasn’t. It’s sharp, clever, and, most importantly, genuine. Really, I would say that ‘Beaver’ is more true to life than most of today’s dysfunctional family sitcoms, which pride themselves on a ‘warts and all’ look at life. The problem being that in practice the approach tends to become ‘warts are all’ instead.
‘Beaver’ is a far more honest and affectionate look at family life. It is, of course, idealized to a certain degree, but then again, no show is ever really ‘true to life,’ and ‘Beaver’ is not simply idealized; it makes plenty of time for unpleasantness and conflict. If the Cleavers are a more or less ideal family, the show makes it clear that they are not the norm, contrasting them with Ward’s pompous, near-clueless coworker Fred Rutherford and his mean, stupid son, Lumpy, and Beaver’s friend Larry’s overbearing mother. And, of course, who could forget Wally’s best friend; the sycophantic, two-faced-and-loving it Eddie Haskell. Even the Cleaver boys aren’t perfect, and neither are their parents. Wally and the Beaver disobey their parents, prefer to spend time with their friends rather than their family, fight with their friends and each other, and do various other things which will be all too familiar to anyone who either has children or has ever been a child.
Nor are the parents perfect; Ward and June misunderstand their children frequently, get into arguments, and even occasionally punish them without reason. All the characters on the show are fallible human beings, but, unlike most modern shows, ‘Beaver’ doesn’t leave it at that. The Cleavers also are shown to be all exemplary individuals; Ward is a dedicated, devoted father, June is about the ideal mother, Wally is pretty much the best teenager a parent could reasonably hope for, and Beaver himself is a thoroughly friendly child. At one point June says of Beaver that “he likes everybody; even Eddie!” (temporarily forgetting that she is speaking to Eddie’s father).
This brings to another aspect of the show; the often times really quite sharp and hilarious writing. Take the scene quoted above; Eddie had gotten Beaver and Wally in trouble by convincing them to go to a horror movie against their parents’ wishes. In vengeance, Beaver makes a voodoo doll of Eddie (by labeling a Cabbage-Patch kid ‘Eddie Haskell’) and sticks a pin in it. When Eddie finds out about it, the power of suggestion causes him to feel sick. This, in turn, causes Eddie’s father to confront Ward about it. The situation of two modern, suburban parents discussing whether one’s nine-year-old son might have put a voodoo curse on the other’s teenager is frankly absurd, but everyone present knows that it is absurd. Most importantly, everyone acts exactly as you would expect them to act in this situation; Ward and June trying to convince George Haskell that this is absurd and George retorting that nevertheless Eddie is sick. The scene ends exactly as it should; George angrily tells Ward that he expects him to do something about this, “And don’t ask me what!” he bellows before Ward can ask the obvious question.
In the same vein as the clever writing is the frankly wonderful relationships between the characters; particularly Ward and June. Their witty, yet natural banter is often a highlight of the show (for me at least), and they are clearly two people who genuinely like and respect each other and whom you can believe were and still are in love. Hugh Beaumont and Barbara Billingsly have wonderful chemistry and play off each other perfectly.
Another great aspect of their relationship is their ever-shifting reliance on each other. I’m reminded of a line of Ransom’s in C.S. Lewis’ book, ‘That Hideous Strength,’ where he described obedience in marriage as being like a dance, with authority constantly shifting between the two partners. I haven’t seen this idea captured anywhere better than with Ward and June. Sometimes it is clear that Ward, as the man of the house, is in charge; what he says goes. Other times Ward is almost cowering before June’s assault of accusations or demands. In one episode, Ward tells the boys a story about how he dealt with a bully in his childhood by laying a trap of barrel-hoops for him. The three boys all laugh…until June makes her glowering presence known, causing Ward to rather sheepishly step out into the hall, where she rebukes him for telling the boys that kind of story.
Another thing which bugs the hell out of me when people talk about this show is their sneering at June; nowadays it’s practically an insult to compare a woman to June Cleaver, and I’ve read feminists call her one of the ‘losers’ of this era, because she stayed home and kept the house instead of getting a job. How anyone who’s ever seen the show can call June a loser is beyond me; she’s one of the pleasantest, most appealing female characters in either television or the movies. She never seems to be in a rut or to be abandoning her own dreams for her husband’s sake, or anything like that. She seems to be genuinely happy (which is not something you can say for most ‘empowered’ female characters), and indeed, why on Earth shouldn’t she be? She has a loving, dedicated husband, two well-behaved children, a nice house in a good neighborhood, and her day is her own. She’s a strong, self-possessed, intelligent woman. What reasonable person, male or female, could consider that being ‘enslaved’ or whatever? What exactly is she missing?
Ward likewise presents no cause for complaint or criticism. Indeed, it would be pretty hypocritical for people in this era to criticize Ward, because one thing that has struck me again and again is how much Ward comes across as an actual Man, which is more than the vast majority of modern male characters can manage. Ward may have a white-collar job, but he is shown to be very athletic, to enjoy hunting and camping and fishing, and had been an Engineer in the South Pacific during WWII. When he gives his sons an order, you don’t doubt that he expects it to be carried out and intends to do something if it isn’t. Even so, he is very patient and understanding with his children, even if he doesn’t hesitate to punish them if they warrant it. He is very affectionate towards June and never seems to condescend to her except in fun. Ward is, in short, strong when he has to be, but gentle when he can be, just as a real Man should be.
I’ll continue this little ‘character rundown’ in a future post, but if you ever want to put yourself in a really good mood, go out and watch some old ‘Leave it to Beaver,’ and you’ll find yourself wishing for an era when the media showed us the good in people, and not just the bad.