My last day of Sesame-watching begins with Luis showing monsters Ingrid and Humphrey that their baby daughter Natasha can scribble with a crayon. The proud parents coo over Natasha’s childish scrawls. Now, stop me if I’m getting too jaded, but little kids really do draw crummy pictures. It sounds harsh, maybe, but in your heart, you know it’s true. Kids’ drawings are messy and incoherent, with no sense of style or composition. Earlier in the week, I was loving this juvenile-art appreciation thing. Five days in, it’s really wearing me out.
Perhaps a steady diet of Sesame Street has hardened me to life, but Sesame producers: you’re being too indulgent. I know you only want to encourage creativity, but there is, perhaps, such a thing as too much creativity. Twenty-five years from now, these kids will be making our game shows and action movies. You’re only encouraging them.
Let’s move on to Monster Clubhouse, a new 8-minute segment starring four brightly-colored young monsters who have set up a clubhouse in a huge cardboard box. The monsters are hyper and enthusiastic, and they invite us to become monsters by messing up our fur and jumping around. They begin with the Monster Clubhouse theme, to the tune of Old McDonald: “M-O-N-S-T-E-R! C-L-U-B HOUSE!” So what happened at the last meeting? Mel, a furry blue moptop who speaks only in growls, “reads” the minutes and then tears them up furiously.
Now it’s time to dance — “the Honk your nose, Touch your toes, Spin around, Strike a pose dance!” It’s cute. The monsters mostly act as a group, so I can’t really distinguish them as separate characters — but the segment moves fast, and they’re obviously having fun with it. Monster Clubhouse is definitely my favorite part of the day.
Back on the Street, Baby Bear draws a picture of his superhero, a little brown bear with a cape and propeller beanie named Hero Guy — or, as Baby Bear says, “Hewo Guy.” Hero Guy springs to life, and leads Baby Bear into his drawing of a pirate ship. What is it with Baby Bear these days? Maybe it’s his cute wittle speech impediment, but he’s become a real magnet for crap. I’ll give you an example. Once Hero Guy and Baby Bear are on the pirate ship, they realize that they can’t sail it, because Baby Bear forgot to draw the ocean. “This makes me sad!” Baby Bear yelps. “You?” says Hero Guy. “This makes ME weally sad!”
Baby Bear ups the ante: “This makes me weally weally sad!” It goes on. “This makes me weally weally weally sad!” And on. “This makes me weally weally weally weally sad!” Stop. Please. “This makes me weally weally weally weally” – I’m not exaggerating, it really goes on this long – “weally sad!” But Hero Guy cries so much that his tears make an ocean. Baby Bear cheers, “Your sadness saved the day, Hero Guy!” and they sail away. Oh my goodness. How can a show be so good and so bad in just one week?
Unfortunately, we’re still talking about drawing pictures on Elmo’s World. I don’t know, maybe it’s me, maybe it’s five Sesame episodes in a row, but this is the first episode of Elmo’s World that isn’t thrilling me. I think it’s partly that watching kids draw is just boring. Drawing is one of those activities that’s fun to do, but not much fun to watch, like baking cookies, or playing soccer. I find myself longing for an Elmo’s World about knee surgery, or car repair. Anything for a bit of action.
At the end, Elmo shows a video of himself drawing a picture of his parents. In the video, he fusses around with the picture, and then shouts: “Elmo loves his mommy and daddy! Hi, Mommy! Hi, Daddy!” Then he babbles a bit in baby talk. This feels to me like an admission of defeat — I don’t care who you are, it’s hard to fill a whole hour of television with kids drawing. You just run out of things to say.
It’s a shame that I have to end the week with kind of a dull episode, because I’ve actually learned quite a bit from my week of educational TV. I’ve learned that, contrary to popular myth, Elmo’s World really is better than the rest of the show. I’ve learned that birthday cakes don’t have teeth. And I’ve learned that Sesame Street is much more of a mixed bag than I remember. For every moment of greatness, there’s a clumsy, dull misstep.
But, like me, Sesame Street is in its early thirties. We’re both grown up now. We ought to be thankful for our moments of greatness, I suppose, and accept our moments of weakness. So, as I think back to my week with Sesame Street, I’ll cheer for the good parts, and I’ll cry for the bad parts. And my tears will make an ocean, and I’ll sail away.
by Danny Horn
