Geek Punditry #34: Is it Spooky Season Yet?

Scientists have determined scientifically, using specific scientific methods and scientific instruments, that August is longer than all other months combined. School is back in session, it’s 127 degrees outside, and frankly, nobody is having a good time. So once this teacher’s summer break ends and he goes back to work, I am fully prepared to embrace the next thing on the horizon that I have to look forward to: Halloween. 

Some people will say that it’s too soon to get excited about Halloween. Some people will say that summer isn’t over yet. Some people will complain about holidays creeping earlier and earlier in the year. To these people, I have one word: “Boo.” I mean, if you’re the sort who actually enjoys summer (like some kind of a weirdo), okay. Enjoy it as long as you can, and I do not begrudge you. But for everyone else, you’re just gatekeeping, and gatekeeping is dumb. There aren’t enough good things in the world for us to put up arbitrary barriers designating when and how something is allowed to be enjoyed, and if you want to put up your Halloween decorations tomorrow, there is no reason not to. (Unless you’ve got a Home Owner’s Association that forbids it, of course, but HOAs are basically just organized gatekeeping, and gatekeeping is dumb.) 

“I said it’s October ENOUGH, Mabel!”

Now don’t misunderstand me – I’m not putting on a costume and watching Garfield’s Halloween Adventure yet. SOME things in my household DO wait for October. But this is the time of year where I start allowing bonus creepy content into my viewing habits: 80s slasher films, ghost stories, monster movies…beginning in August, the percentage of my viewing time occupied by these types of things slowly begins to increase until, by October 1st, it’s basically All Creepy All the Time. The wonderful thing about Halloween in this regard is that the gatekeepers tend to step back a little bit. It’s not like Christmas, where people will arm themselves with gingerbread swords and go to battle over what does and does not constitute a Christmas movie (even though the criteria are pretty simple, as I outlined a few years ago). For Spooky Season, there is no requirement that a movie or TV show be set on or around Halloween – it merely has to have a modicum of creepy content and people will accept it as seasonally appropriate. 

And that’s a good thing, too, because there actually aren’t a ton of great movies set on Halloween itself. Sure, you’ve got your John Carpenter’s Halloween and your Hocus Pocus and a few others, but for every one of those you’ve got a TERRIBLE movie set at Halloween, such as Halloween Ends and Hocus Pocus 2. If you limit yourself to only viewing movies set in October during your viewing, even if you wait until October 1st to begin, you’ll run out of quality content long before the big day. And thus we, the Halloween Lovers of America (or HLA, for short) have agreed to accept virtually anything with monsters, ghosts, goblins, or gore as acceptable viewing during the Spooky Season. 

“You see, there’s good Halloween and then there’s bad Halloween…”

In fact, many of the most iconic Halloween costumes come from stories that have nothing to do with Halloween itself. Take the Ghostbusters, for example. It seems almost unthinkable to go through the Halloween season without seeing somebody strapping on a Proton Pack or shouting “I ain’t ‘fraid of no ghosts,” but none of the Ghostbusters movies take place anywhere near Halloween. Ghostbusters II, in fact, reaches its climax on New Year’s Eve! (Yes, before you ask, it does count as a New Year’s Eve movie.) But because the franchise itself is centered around ghosts and the people who – y’know – bust them, they have become integral figures in the Halloween canon.

The same goes for most movie monsters. The Universal Monsters are my favorite. I love the movies, I love the style, I love the decor. But I can’t think of a single Universal Monster film that actually takes place on Halloween. The closest thing I can recall is the masquerade ball in Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein, and even THAT isn’t specifically noted as being a Halloween party. (I’m sure somebody will inform me of any exceptions that have escaped my mind.) Despite this, the most common versions of Dracula and the Frankenstein monster you’ll see are the ones based on Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, and they’re everywhere. Likewise, the 80s slasher icons are similarly ubiquitous at this time of year, but of them only Michael Myers is Halloween-specific. That doesn’t stop anybody from dressing up like Jason Voorhees or Freddy Krueger, though, nor should it. Last year my wife and I dressed as Freddy and Jason, respectively, to have a little slasher family to go with our son, who chose a Chucky costume. Nobody complained, although I’m not sure my grandmother realized what, exactly, Eddie was supposed to be when she called him adorable. 

The family who slays together…

So when it comes to choosing Halloweenish movies, all of those are perfectly acceptable fare, but why stop there? What about Kaiju? Giant monsters like Godzilla, Gamera, and King Kong are not particularly Halloweenish. Am I allowed to watch those movies during this time frame? I mean…there’s nothing that stops me from watching them any day of the year (makes for a weird Easter, honestly), but when I’m compiling my requisite Letterboxd list of annual seasonal viewing, do I include them? They are monsters, after all. And we’ve all seen a guy show up at a party wearing a gorilla costume. I say that it counts. And for that matter, so does any given episode of a spooky TV show, whether you’re talking about macabre comedies (macabredies? Can I invent that word?) like The Addams Family or The Munsters or whether it’s full-on horror like Tales From the Crypt or Creepshow. It basically all boils back down to the gatekeeping thing. Nobody else is allowed to tell you what can put you in the Halloween mood or when it’s acceptable, or for that matter, no one can say you have to be in the mood if you don’t want to either. Do what makes you happy.

What makes me happy, I should point out, is the Spirit Halloween store. Every year I start itching around mid-June, looking at the abandoned storefronts in my area and wondering which ones Spirit is going to swoop in and absorb into their web this time around. 2023 may be the most abundant year yet for me. For the second year in a row they’ve set up shop in a strip that’s often on my way home from work (it depends on whether or not it’s my turn to pick up my son from school). But there’s a second one that my wife has to drive past on her way to and from work – and as if that weren’t enough, the third Spirit Halloween in our area is set up in the vacant Bed Bath and Beyond immediately next to my wife’s place of employment. It’s almost as if the Spirits of Spirit knew it had been a rough year and wanted to do just a little something to make us happy.

The mothership calling me home.

If Spirit was open year-round I would be thrilled, honestly. Granted, there are certain things that wouldn’t be year-round sellers (nobody really needs a screaming pumpkin in February), but I also live near the city of New Orleans, and there’s much more of a call for costume pieces and decorations here 365 days a year than there is in, for example, Bloomington, Indiana. I’ve also often petitioned them to pivot when November begins and turn into “The Spirit of Christmas,” which would at least give me an additional two months of seasonal retail therapy, but so far they’re just ignoring my Tweets. 

Regardless, going to Spirit is very much a thing in my family. We’ve already visited all three of the stores I mentioned before, with a fourth one not too much further away, and we’ll probably stop in at all of them again before the season is over. We told my son, who is almost six, that we’re not getting his Halloween costume until we’re a little closer to October. Six-year-olds have a tendency to grow like they’ve been injected with Pym Particles and also to change their minds 197 times a day, so it’s a bit early for us to lock him into a specific size or character. But that said, Eddie loves visiting the Spirit store. We were worried when he was younger that it may be too scary or intimidating for him, but he is his mother’s child. He loves to activate the assorted animatronics on display and make them shriek and pop up, and it’s delightful to watch because he always gets scared for approximately a half a second before giggling like mad and rushing to step on the button again…which, frankly, is the perfect reaction. This is exactly what the people who design those things WANT you to do, and unlike an adult or teenager who feels the need to pretend it doesn’t affect them, he’s still young and innocent enough to let his emotions run the way they should.

He likes the decorations and costumes as well – this year he’s asking to try on the masks, which in the past he would never do. He asks specifically to “be” the character on the label, which becomes painfully adorable as he reads the packaging and says things like, “Can I be Spidah-Man? Can I be Fwankenstein? Can I be Da Purge?” He even gave us, completely unprompted, an “It’s-a me, Mawio!” I know that, as his father, I am biased, but that moment deserves to win the Nobel Prize in Cute.

My wife and I are both nerds, and although our spheres of nerdery are not a perfect venn diagram, Halloween is a huge section of overlap. The fact that my son has come to embrace that section as well thrills me to no end. So if you’re here to tell me that August 25th is too early to sit down with him and watch Mad Monster Party and episodes of The Real Ghostbusters or to put on Renfield or Evil Dead Rises after he’s gone to sleep, I’ll tell you that you’re flat-out wrong and that you need some full-size candy bars in your life.

Now I know some readers turned away from this week’s column as soon as they realized I was talking about Halloween so early, so I know they’re not reading this. If you made it this far, I assume you love and are ready for the Spooky Season as much as I am. So to you, my friends, my fellow Cryptkeepers and Svengooligans, I say this: have a great couple of months, binge yourself silly on creepy content, and let your freak flag – quite literally, in many cases – fly high and proud. 

I’m calling it. Our time starts NOW.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. He really hopes his son sticks with his current plan of being Mario for Halloween and doesn’t switch to Spider-Man, because he likes to dress up with the kid and he’d make a better Luigi than a Mary Jane. 

Geek Punditry #33: You Joke Because You Love

Last week was the season finale of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, so when Thursday rolled around and I didn’t have a new installment of my favorite franchise waiting for me, I was not unlike that meme where the guy sits on a swing and pines away for something, probably football season. It was kind of pathetic to watch, actually. Just ask my wife.

“I wonder if Captain Pike’s hair misses me, too.”

But that sadness was mitigated by the fact that in just a few short weeks, on Sept. 7, the new season of Star Trek: Lower Decks is dropping. There was a time when Star Trek went off the air and we had no idea how long it would be before it returned to television (that time was called 2005 and the answer turned out to be 12 years, by the way), but in this day and age we’ve got more to work with. There’s been a semi-regular flow of Star Trek since Discovery first hit screens six years ago, and some of it has been magnificent: Prodigy, Strange New Worlds, season three of Picard…but the truth is, of all the “NuTrek” shows, none of them have made me as consistently joyful as Lower Decks.

Boldly going to season four.

A lot of fans were dismissive when Lower Decks was announced. An animated Star Trek? A comedy? A comedy produced by someone who worked on Rick and Morty? If you’re the kind of Trekkie who wants the show to lean more on the dramatic side, it kind of sounded like a recipe for disaster. But every Trek series has had plenty of lighthearted moments, and even the occasional full-blown comedic episode (unless you’re trying to tell me we were supposed to take “Spock’s Brain” seriously), so I was happy to give it a chance.

I couldn’t be more satisfied with the results. I went in expecting to see a parody of Star Trek, but the truth is that isn’t really what Lower Decks is. It’s funny, absolutely. The characters are hilarious and the performances by the main cast are magnificent. But it’s not the comedy alone that makes Lower Decks work – what really makes it land is the fact that if you take away the jokes, you’re still left with plots that would work solidly on a more mainstream science fiction series. The season 2 finale is a great example: when a more “important” ship than the USS Cerritos is endangered on a first contact mission, our crew has to step up and save the day. Ultimately, they discover the only way to traverse a dangerous asteroid field is to strip off the outer hull of their ship and pilot through manually. (Trust me, it makes sense in context.) The scenes of the crew coming together to dismantle their own vessel and then maneuver through the field are as tense and action-packed as Trek at its best, and still funny to boot.

Many fans were won over by the first season. Not everyone, of course. There are still some who argue that Lower Decks lacks in actual comedy, and is just a rapid-fire recitation of references to other Trek series. While it’s true that the show is very reference-heavy, to say that this is the only source of comedy is untrue and reductive. So much of what makes it funny it comes from the characters, and it is the characters that make the show worth watching. The references are fun, however, and I think it’s the references that prove something that I sincerely believe to be true: the best parodies are made by people who honestly and sincerely love the thing they’re making fun of. 

Mike McMahan, the creator and showrunner of Lower Decks, was a writer on several animated shows, but he came onto the radar of the Trek producers via – of all things – a Twitter account in which he posted synopses for episodes of a fictional eighth season of Star Trek: The Next Generation. The account became a hit and he eventually rolled that into writing an officially-licensed book. Warped: An Engaging Guide to the Never-Aired 8th Season was a hilarious look at what might have been but, more importantly, the writing showed that McMahan truly understood the show, the characters, and their universe, and that was what he built the comedy on. When he got the chance to do the same with Lower Decks, it was as engaging and funny as anyone could have hoped for. 

It should be noted that McMahan wasn’t the first writer to do that with Star Trek. By my count, he was at least the fourth. There are two previous projects that also take loving jabs at Trek while still working as science fiction in their own right. David Howard and Robert Gordon’s script for Galaxy Quest transports a bunch of Trek-esque actors into a Trek-stye adventure, and Seth MacFarlane’s The Orville started out as a comedic take on Trek tropes and quickly evolved into a sci-fi series as deep and powerful as Trek at its best, albeit with a few more jokes. In both cases, these were projects envisioned by creators who had a deep love of the franchise and wanted to pay tribute to it in their own way. 

“No, it’s not a Star Trek knock-off. Because our captain wears blue and our doctor wears green, that’s why.”

This is the thing that needs to be understood: something can be a great comedy and still be a great example of the kind of story that’s being told. It’s always frustrated me how the Academy Awards typically ignores comedy in most of the major categories, as if it is somehow less artful than drama. It’s only slightly better with awards shows like the Golden Globes or the Emmys, which separate comedies into their own category, with a subtle implication that they don’t deserve to compete against the “real” movies. There’s a sort of snobbish attitude that thinks of comedy as “lower” art. That’s ridiculous, of course. Comedy has existed since the birth of drama. Shakespeare’s tragedies may get more play in schools, but I’ll argue that Much Ado About Nothing is a vastly superior play to Romeo and Juliet any day of the week. And as far as the acting part goes, giving a great comedic performance is a skill set that not everyone has. All acting is about building and releasing tension, but the demands of comedy require you to land the release in a way that often far more difficult than drama. Think about how many great comedic performers have gone on to give great dramatic performances. Off the top of my head there was Jim Carrey in Man on the Moon, Robin Williams in Dead Poet’s Society, and Carol Burnett put forth a fantastic performance in the final season of Better Call Saul. Speaking of which, the “Gilliamverse” duo of Bob Odenkirk in Saul and Bryan Cranston in Breaking Bad pretty much embody this concept. On the converse, how many actors who became known as great dramatists then went on to give fantastic comedic performances? I’m sure the list exists, but the flip side is much more extensive. Go ahead, tell me Orson Welles’s best-known comedic performance. I’ll wait. 

You picked this one, right?

Great comedies are often great examples of the stories that they are supposedly parodying. Two of the most formative movies of my childhood, two of the movies that are probably responsible for shaping my sense of storytelling into what it is today, fall into this category. Ghostbusters began with Dan Aykroyd’s personal desire to tell a story about the paranormal. Although the script evolved and changed considerably from his original vision by the time it was on the screen, it was a fantastic story with some genuinely creepy moments buoyed up by some of the greatest comedic performances ever put to screen. The next year, Bob Gale and Robert Zemeckis gave us Back to the Future, a movie that’s effective as a science fiction film, but even more impressive as a relationship comedy about teenagers in love and a son rediscovering his parents. These movies are classics and are pretty much universally recognized as such. (Heck, as of this writing, Back to the Future still sits atop my personal “Perfect Movies” poll and has done so for over a year.)

Nor is this only true in film and television. Look at Douglas Adams The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and its assorted sequels. Begun as a radio drama before becoming part of the modern literary canon, Adams uses science fiction and humor hand-in-hand to satirize any number of targets. Terry Pratchett did the same thing with the fantasy genre in his Discworld novels – parodies of fantasy tropes, to be certain, but at the same time marvelous examples of a fully-realized fantasy world that had a lot of interesting things to say about the actual world we all live in most of the time. 

Recently I found a new member for this club of parodies that also perfectly encapsulate the thing that they’re parodying: the Hulu series Only Murders in the Building. I mentioned this show a few weeks ago when discussing shows I haven’t watched yet that I would try to get through during the (still ongoing) writer’s and actor’s strikes in Hollywood. Since then, I’ve made it through the first two seasons and begun the third, and I’m frankly angry at myself for not having watched it before. If you’re unfamiliar, the show stars Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez as neighbors in an enormous Manhattan apartment building. Initially strangers to one another, they bond over their mutual love of a true crime podcast. When a murder takes place in their own building, they decide to launch a podcast of their own while they try to solve it.

“That Petit guy is talking about us again. Get the murder.”

The show is a deft send-up of podcasts like Serial, with Tina Fey appearing in several episodes as an obvious stand-in for Serial’s host, Sarah Koenig. While gently mocking the format, it also occasionally says some serious things about the nature of an audience that draws entertainment from the death and suffering of real people (which, let’s face it, is what we all do when we “enjoy” the true crime genre). There are dark moments as well, as the pasts of each character are slowly opened up and revealed to the viewer throughout the course of the investigation. What’s more, the show isn’t afraid to get experimental, as we see in the format-breaking episode seven, which tells the story in a way few shows would have the guts to do. It’s also not afraid to tug at the heartstrings, as we see in season two when several episodes revolve around the concept of fatherhood and what it means, which is something that cuts into me personally pretty deeply.

In the midst of all this, though, there are two things that absolutely have to be said:

  1. The show is outrageously funny.
  2. Each season so far has been a fantastically-structured mystery in its own right.

In their mocking of the true crime culture, show creators Steve Martin and John Hoffman have managed to make one of the most engaging TV mysteries I’ve ever watched, laying out clues, unraveling threads, and sending us chasing after red herrings with the aplomb of Arthur Conan Doyle or Alfred Hitchcock. Even if it wasn’t funny, it would still be a good mystery, and that’s what really matters in regards to my grander point.

Good comedy is damned hard to do, and it deserves respect. And when that comedy lands, it’s not just funny, it’s transformative. It’s not fair to say Only Murders is a great mystery “for a comedy,” to call Lower Decks a good Trek show “for a comedy,” to say that Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels are solid fantasy “for a comedy.” They just are. They’re great examples of their genres that also happen to be comedies.

When we can get everybody to wrap their brains around the premise, maybe the people who make us laugh will finally be able to get their due.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. Hey, he hasn’t used Star Trek as a main topic in this column for six weeks now, he deserved this one.

Geek Punditry #32: We All Need a Little Mayhem

If you’re at all surprised to learn that I’m a fan of the Muppets, I can only assume that you haven’t paid the slightest attention to anything I’ve ever written or said or performed or eaten in the entire expanse of the universe, because the Muppets are straight-up delightful. They’re a magical creation. Jim Henson and company willed into existence a troupe of actors of such wild, chaotic, and lovely clashing personalities that virtually any kind of story can and has been told with them over the years. All of that makes it even more sad how, since the Muppets were purchased by the Walt Disney Corporation and Shadow Government and Tire Emporium back in 2004, they have consistently shown an inability to use these characters properly. 

🎶”Look for us! Where’d we go? Disney did us wrong…”🎶

That’s not to say there haven’t been high points. In 2011 we got The Muppets, a new film in which Kermit and the crew were brought back together after an unspecified time apart to save their home, the Muppet Theater. The movie was funny, clever, and full of fantastic music, which is pretty much all you want from the Muppets. It was a great film, and it felt like Kermit the Frog and Company were back on track.

But the train derailed quickly. In 2014 we got Muppets Most Wanted, a sequel that failed to capture the magic of the previous film. The next year the gang returned to television in a new series (also just called The Muppets) which was an Office-style mockumentary series starring our favorite felt-covered friends. The show was weak at first, and although it improved quite a bit over the course of its season, it was too little too late, and the second season was never ordered. Since then appearances of the Muppets have been sparse: a few web shorts, some appearances in commercials, and a Disney+ Halloween special, Muppets Haunted Mansion, which wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t great either. What was going on? Why was it so damned hard for Disney to figure out what to do with these characters?

The Muppets are an incredibly versatile troupe. They’re musical comedians, sure, but that’s not all they are. Each of the main Muppets has spent decades being refined and shaped, given a life and a personality that belies their existence as scraps of cloth and foam rubber. They have become iconic figures, as well-known and recognizable in pop culture as Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny, but nobody was doing anything worthwhile with the characters…until earlier this year, that is. A few months ago, Disney+ dropped Muppets Mayhem, a brilliant miniseries that gave the Muppets a showcase they’ve been sorely lacking for years and, moreso, it gives us a blueprint for what Disney should do with these characters moving forward.

The greatest rockumentary ever made.

Muppets Mayhem is the first Muppets production in which the spotlight is shined not on Kermit, Piggy, Fozzie, or Gonzo, but on the Muppet Show’s house band, Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. Although those characters have been around just as long as the rest of the crew, they’ve never really been developed much beyond some stereotypes: Dr. Teeth was a parody of Louisiana musical legend Dr. John, Janice was a cliched hippie chick, Zoot was that zoned-out musician who probably got his hands on a few too many family unfriendly-substances back in the day, Lips was the guy who mumbles, Floyd Pepper was the closest thing this group had to a straight man, and Animal was…well…Animal. Muppets Mayhem starts here, but it goes so much further than that. 

In this show, an aspiring record executive (played by Lilly Singh) finds out that the Mayhem owes her struggling company an album and sets out to spur them to get in the recording studio and make good on their contract. This kicks off a ten-episode quest of discovery for both Lilly’s Nora character and each member of the band itself. Over the course of the series every one of the Mayhem gets a chance to shine, is given unexpected backstory, and is developed into a character as rich and meaningful as the A-list Muppets we’ve been following for years.

So why, after being hit and miss for so long, did Disney knock it out of the park with Muppets Mayhem? For the answer to that, I think we need to look back at their last solid success, The Muppets. That film was written by Jason Segal and Nichollas Stoller, who spent years pitching on it and working on the script, even pulling in help from the Pixar storytelling brain trust (which, in these halcyon days before The Good Dinosaur, had never failed at making a successful film). The story these two conceived took the Muppets back to their roots, to the Muppet Theater, where they had to band together and put on a smash hit show to raise the money to save their home. It’s such an overdone premise, but it’s absolutely perfect for the Muppets, because of who and what the Muppets actually are.

No, not that. Well, not JUST that.

Jim Henson created and recreated his characters over and over again over a span of over twenty years before the characters gelled into their final form in 1976 with The Muppet Show. The premise, if you’re one of the two people on the planet who’ve never seen it, was that Kermit and his friends were old-fashioned Vaudeville-style performers, putting on a nightly show with the help of some celebrity guest stars. Although earnest and sincere, most of the Muppets brought chaos in their wake, and it was up to Kermit to try to keep it all together. Most of the great Muppet productions since then have run with that premise in one of two ways. Either it’s a story about the Muppets and their performing troupe (such as The Muppet Movie and The Muppets Take Manhattan), or it is a story being told by the “actors” in the Muppet troupe (which explains the meta-humor in The Great Muppet Caper and in most of their adaptations of other stories, such as The Muppet Christmas Carol and The Muppets’ Wizard of Oz). The further we get from that formula, the weaker the Muppets get. 

Segal and Stoller understood that. What’s more, they showed a true reverence for the characters that was clear in every word of dialogue and every note of music. After nailing it with one film, though, Segal stepped aside for Muppets Most Wanted…which promptly fell apart since it was about Kermit’s evil twin and a crime caper. It’s not that a crime caper doesn’t work with the Muppets (see the aforementioned Great Muppet Caper), it’s that the attitude behind the movie was essentially, “Well, we don’t quite know what to do next, so let’s try to do The Great Muppet Caper again.”

Muppets Most Wanted is my favorite Muppet movie!”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s the LAST one!”
(Old man laughing)

The Muppets floundered again until Muppets Mayhem, which was co-created and produced by Adam F. Goldberg. Goldberg is probably best known as the creator of the sitcom based on his own family and upbringing in the 1980s, The Goldbergs, a show which at its best took a loving and reverential eye to the pop culture of Goldberg’s childhood and used it to tell stories of an often dysfunctional but ultimately loving family, and if that isn’t exactly the primary qualification for anybody trying to tell a story about the Muppets I don’t know what is. Goldberg, like Segal, lived his formative years at a time when the Muppets were at their peak, and brought the obvious love for the characters into what he did in Muppets Mayhem by expanding on their world, not denigrating it.

This is the secret, Disney, and any other company out there sitting on a classic IP and trying to figure out what to do with it. Admittedly, it can be difficult to decide what to do with older characters when the goal is to introduce them to a new audience. A lot of kids these days would reject anything that their parents pushed on them as a reflex action. And sure, times have changed – a modern child who watches The Muppet Show will have no context for the vaudevillian background of the characters.

But the thing is, neither did we. Those of us who grew up with the Muppets in that first go-around (Goldberg, Segal, myself – you know, the first three names you would think of) didn’t have any exposure to Vaudeville. We didn’t care. It was as irrelevant to us at the time as the fact that Bugs Bunny was doing impressions of Clark Gable and Peter Lorre. We didn’t know and we didn’t care. We didn’t know that Fred Flintstone was a total knock-off of Ralph Kramden, and guess what? We didn’t care. Because these classic characters are still entertaining even divorced from their original context.

So throwing out the context argument, what we’re left with is figuring out what it is people love about the characters even with the context gone. With the Muppets, there are two essential elements: the performing element and the family element. Every great Muppet production has served one or the other. Most of them have served both, but most Disney Muppet projects have lacked that. A Muppets Christmas: Letters to Santa and Muppets Haunted Mansion both told stories with the performing bit in the background at best. Letters to Santa showed a team of Muppets banding together, but it was in service of a new character that we’d never seen before (or since) and only were supposed to care about because Gonzo cares about her. Not that that’s a bad reason, but in a one-hour special, it’s not really enough. Haunted Mansion, on the other hand, showcases Gonzo and Rizzo invited to a “fear challenge” at the – well hell, I don’t have to explain where it happened. The closest thing to a family storyline here is when we discover Gonzo’s greatest fear is losing his friends, which again is perplexing, since there’s nothing in decades of Muppets lore that would indicate this is a sticking point for him.

Sure, it’s filled with the restless spirits of the dead, but they DO give out full-size candy bars.

Too many studios try to reboot a classic franchise by stripping it down to the name only and making it “edgy” or “controversial.” The prevailing attitude seems to be that they can’t win the kids, so instead they’ll go for the crowd who enjoys things “ironically” by mocking fans who had the audacity to care about the characters in the first place. (The thesis of Geek Punditry is to explore those things we love, so I won’t get too much into the shows and movies that have committed this sort of cinematic crime, but I will say that the most recent offender was Very Egregiously Lascivious and Mostly Abhorrent.) I simply don’t understand the mindset that says the way to make an old concept profitable is to attack the people who loved it in the first place, and yet we see that happen again and again.

That’s why Muppets Mayhem was so delightful, so charming, and so wonderfully surprising. It was a story about a group of performers who are, in fact, family. It was about bringing new people into that family. It didn’t just have great music, it was about great music. It made us take a look at characters we already loved and, in the process, come to love them even more. And when it went meta – and boy, did it go meta – it never did so at the expense of the people who have watched and loved them for nearly 50 years. 

Shockingly, they were good just because they were…GOOD.

There has not been any announcement about a second season of Mayhem either way – neither confirming it or saying that it won’t be moving forward. Streaming services like Disney+ are notoriously secretive with their numbers, but the show hasn’t been yanked off as a tax write-off yet, so it can’t be doing that badly. If there is no more, well, the ten-episode run is perfectly self-contained and ends in a very satisfying way. But I hope it doesn’t. I hope we see more of the Mayhem, more of Nora and Moog, and more unexpected and hilarious celebrity guest stars in a second season. Even if we don’t, though, I’m happy that we got what we did, and when Disney sits down once again to decide where to go with the characters in the Muppet studio, I hope they take a look at what they just did and realize that we all need a little mayhem once in a while.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. “Which Muppet are you?” was the question long before Sex and the City fans tried to co-opt the concept, you know. Which Muppet are you? Blake is usually a Fozzie. 

Geek Punditry #31: Cross-Evolution

The DC Universe is asleep right now.

This is not a commentary on the state of their cinematic universe. I’m talking about the good ol’ comic book DCU, which is in the second half of their two-month Knight Terrors event. A new villain calling himself Insomnia wants to get his hands on the Nightmare Stone, a powerful artifact that used to belong to the Justice League’s old enemy Dr. Destiny. Insomnia believes that Doc Dee has hidden the stone inside the dreams of somebody in the DCU, so he’s made everyone on Earth fall asleep, allowing him to search for it. It’s been an interesting story, diving into the dreams of DC’s greatest heroes and villains and getting a taste of their worst fears. (You should see what the Joker is afraid of.) Most importantly, though, Knight Terrors is the latest iteration of that thing that we comic book nerds both adore and fear: the crossover event.

The real Knight Terrors are the friends we made along the way.

Most comic historians will agree that the “shared universe” conceit, in which most or all of the characters published by the same company are said to co-exist, can be traced back to 1940 and the first appearance of the Justice Society of America in All-Star Comics #3. In the early days, the JSA was little more than a framing device, in which the heroes would gather around a table and tell each other tales of their exploits, but eventually the stories would evolve to the point where they were having adventures together. Guest appearances in each other’s books became common, more teams were formed, and eventually both Marvel and DC Comics had sprawling worlds of interconnected characters. In a way, it’s baffling that it took 42 years for the next logical step in storytelling to happen: mashing everybody in the universe into a single story. That story was 1982’s Contest of Champions, a three-issue miniseries in which the Marvel Comics all-stars were abducted by a couple of the Elders of the Universe and forced to battle each other. It was a completely self-contained story that didn’t touch on any other book, but it was considered a precursor for the next step: the 12-issue Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars in 1984. This time, we saw many of the Marvel heroes – in their own titles – encounter a mysterious device that whisked them away to parts unknown. They returned in the next issue after an absence of some weeks, many of them with changes. The maxiseries told the story of what happened to them in-between those two points.

“Okay, guys, let’s show ’em how it’s done.”

DC got into the game in 1985 with Crisis on Infinite Earths, and that’s when things really got wild. Contest of Champions and Secret Wars were both relatively self-contained stories. Although Secret Wars had repercussions for the regular series of the assorted characters (Spider-Man’s black costume, which would eventually become Venom; She-Hulk leaving the Avengers for the Fantastic Four; etc.) the story itself stayed in those 12 issues. In Crisis on Infinite Earths, for the first time, the story spilled out into the other comics being published by DC. While the heroes of the multiverse struggled to keep it together in the main series, most of the other books published by the company had side-stories that showed how the stars of that title were dealing with the collapse of reality. Green Lantern dealt with the destruction of an entire sector of space, DC Comics Presents booted Superman to an alternate reality where he met a young version of himself, and in Wonder Woman’s title she joined with the gods of Olympus to protect her home.  

Since then, the crossover has evolved again and again, with different forms that each have their own pros and cons. In some cases, a story in a single title or family of titles grew big enough that it only made sense to show the effects on other books. In Marvel’s Inferno (1989), the X-Men family of comics told the story of a demonic invasion of New York, and since most of Marvel’s heroes lived in New York it only made sense to show how Spider-Man, the Avengers, and the Fantastic Four were dealing with it as well. Later that same year we got Acts of Vengeance, a story wherein Loki plotted to destroy the Avengers by manipulating the Marvel Universe’s villains into attacking different heroes than those they usually fought. Yeah, I’m not entirely sure how that was supposed to work either, but it was a fun story: Spider-Man dealt with the X-Men’s enemy Magneto, while Daredevil’s foe Typhoid Mary set her sights on the Power Pack, and so forth. These kinds of crossovers work out fairly well, as it’s easy for readers to ignore any titles they don’t want to read. On the other hand, if they aren’t reading the core titles in which the story is taking place, they may be confused as to what is going on.

However, from a company standpoint, there’s one major problem with crossovers like that: there’s no extra books being sold. So the next level of crossover has a main miniseries, with stories touching on the heroes across the DCU. After the original Crisis, DC made this an almost-annual format for many years, with the likes of Legends, Millennium, Invasion!, Final Night, Genesis, and Underworld Unleashed all following suit. Marvel did it several times as well, with Secret Wars II, Infinity Gauntlet, and its assorted sequels. This is the kind of crossover I grew up with, and in many ways it’s still my favorite. The fact that it touches on the ongoing comics gives the story weight and makes it feel like it “matters” more than if the book is totally self-contained, and for the most part, you still only have to read the main title and any crossovers that you want, pushing aside those that you don’t.

There were…a LOT of these.

Later crossovers like Civil War and Fear Itself would expand on this concept: the main miniseries, crossovers into the ongoing books, and assorted miniseries and one-shots that spin off of the main book. This expands the story and allows the storytellers to touch on more elements of the event, and of course, it gives the publisher more books they can potentially sell. Publishers love that. Sometimes they love it so much that they’ll do a spinoff miniseries even if the characters involved currently have an ongoing. There are 97 X-Men titles at any given time, so was it strictly necessary to do a three-issue World War Hulk: X-Men miniseries instead of just putting the story in one of those? I say thee nay.

Then there’s the tier that we’re seeing more often these days, in which the crossover doesn’t touch the ongoing titles at all, but only features spinoffs and one-shots. There are, I think, two reasons this happens.

1: Money. 

2: Writers. 

I don’t think the first point needs much of an explanation, but let me tell you what I mean by the second one. The comic book industry has become increasingly writer-focused over the years, and while in many ways that’s a good thing, that does come with a degree of compartmentalization. Whereas in the past, editors would call up the writer of New Warriors and tell him to link his book to Infinity War whether he wanted to or not, today there’s more of a reluctance to disrupt the ongoing story. Al Ewing’s fantastic Immortal Hulk series was an excellent horror story that is perfect for binge-reading now that it’s over. But if you’re reading that story in a collected edition years later, it would be somewhat disconcerting to suddenly stop to deal with an invasion of symbiotes spilling over from the Spider-Man comics. So instead, there were Immortal Hulk one-shot specials when the title dealt with the events of the Absolute Carnage and King in Black crossovers, and the main book went unmolested.

The solution.

The benefit of this is that the crossover doesn’t impact the story when you’re reading it in a vacuum. There are two cons that come to mind, though. First, if a crossover is entirely self-contained, it’s easy to ignore it and decide it’s inconsequential to the meta-story of the shared universe as a whole. Second, it has a tendency to cause the main story to spill out into the spinoffs in a way that doesn’t happen as often with the other kinds of crossovers. Grant Morrison’s Final Crisis was a bit of a mindbender to begin with, but the ending is COMPLETELY out of the blue if you didn’t choose to read the Final Crisis: Superman Beyond two-issue miniseries that accompanied it.

A story like Knight Terrors is a relatively new variant on this format. The crossover is told entirely through crossover miniseries, but those miniseries are replacing the ongoing comics for the duration of the event. Instead of following June’s Nightwing #105 with July’s Nightwing #106, July and August give us Knight Terrors: Nightwing #1 and #2, with #106 saved for September. This is, by my count, the third time DC has done this, the previous times being Convergence in 2015 and Future State in 2021. It’s nice, in that it doesn’t disrupt the main book at all, but it also has a habit of making the event itself feel rather inconsequential. (Future State in particular has largely faded into irrelevance in the DCU.) 

Up until now, I’ve really only talked about format. I’m not making value judgments on any of these stories: there are both good and bad examples of every kind of crossover. What matters, I think, is what exactly you’re trying to accomplish with the story. Are you “just” telling a big story? Well, the first format I discussed is probably the right one. We mostly see that now with smaller crossovers, things like the Sinestro Corps War that only impacted the Green Lantern books (plus one issue of Blue Beetle). But even those “smaller” crossovers are starting to go the route of having one-shots or miniseries spinoffs: the upcoming Gotham War storyline will feature in the Batman and Catwoman ongoing titles but also have a few one-shots and a miniseries focusing on Jason Todd. 

Sometimes publishers label books as part of a crossover no matter how inconsequential they are, and that can irritate readers. People who picked up the Crisis on Infinite Earths issues of Swamp Thing were rightly irritated that the only connection seemed to be the skies turning red. Even when the book is objectively entertaining, it’s a bit frustrating. Geoff Johns and the late George Perez did a magnificent job on Final Crisis: Legion of Three Worlds (I would even argue that, to date, it was the LAST great Legion of Super-Heroes story), but pretending it had great significance to the Final Crisis storyline was something of a stretch. 

“Guys, when we said ‘Stop, you got it right,’ we didn’t mean that LITERALLY.”

Sometimes these crossovers are intended to reset things: DC has done that with Flashpoint and Dark Crisis on Infinite Earths, which led to the New 52 and Dawn of DC reboots, respectively. Sometimes these are intended not to re-set, but to set things up in the first place. That’s what the nascent Valiant Comics did in 1991 with Unity. When their universe was still young they tied together their six existing titles (four of which were less than a year old), launched two new titles, and introduced new characters and concepts that in turn would develop into more titles in the next year. It was a huge success and Valiant was the hot ticket, becoming so successful that only a few years later Acclaim bought the company and promptly ran it into the ground.

“Get ready, guys, it’s all downhill from here.”

People like to complain about “event fatigue” in comics the same way that many of them complain about “superhero fatigue” in movies, but the fact that people keep buying these books seems to indicate that they aren’t that exhausted. And as always, quality matters. People rarely complain about “too many comics” if they actually like the stories that they’re reading – it’s only when following a story gets to be a chore that they go to the internet and gripe. I don’t think crossovers are going anywhere, and honestly, I don’t really want them to. So I guess the important thing when planning them out, publishers, is to think really hard before you get into these storylines, and ask your doctor (Strange, not Doom) what kind of crossover is right for you. 

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. He knows that there are a LOT of crossover events he didn’t mention in this column, so before you reply with, “Hey, you forgot XYZ,” know that he didn’t. He just didn’t have room to make this comprehensive. Cut him some slack.