Directed by: Joel Allen Schroeder.
I
was probably the perfect age to fall in love with Calvin & Hobbes – which remains
my favorite comic strip. Bill Watterson created them in 1985 – and I would have
been four at that time, and ended their run in 1995, when I would have been 14.
I cannot quite remember when during that time I “discovered” Calvin &
Hobbes, but I did, and read them every day in our local paper – and had quite a
few of their books as well. The new documentary Dear Mr. Watterson was made by
Joel Allen Schroeder – who is roughly my age – and the purpose of the
documentary is to examine what made Calvin & Hobbes so special – and why nearly
20 years after it stopped running new strips, it is still one of the most
beloved comics of all time. The film doesn’t have an interview with Watterson
himself – he’s almost like the JD Salinger of comics, in that he never gives
interviews, he values his privacy, and refused to license the rights of his
creation – which cost him tens of millions of dollars – and he seems just fine
with that. Just think of the TV specials, plush toys and fast good giveaways
over the years that the characters from Peanuts or Garfield have appeared in,
and you’ll get the idea of just what Watterson could have done with his
creation if he wanted to. But he didn’t. For him, Calvin & Hobbes is
precisely what he always intended it to be – a comic strip, and nothing else.
Calvin
& Hobbes has endured for several reasons – some related to Watterson, and
some not. It has endured in part because it did have a limited run – most successful
comics run for far longer than 10 years, but because Watterson cut it off when
he did, the comic itself never grew stale – never repeated itself too much. It
was still at the top of its game when it ended. His decision not to license it
also helped – we never grew tired of his characters from seeing them in
countless TV specials or trying to sell us insurance, and having their face
plastered on every piece of merchandise conceivable. But Watterson’s comic
strip also came along at precisely the right time, and ended at the right time
as well. As many of the comic strip artists in the film point out, the medium –
like everything else in traditional media – has changed drastically in recent
years. More and more people do not get a daily paper any more – they get their
news online. So people do not discover comics in the same way – you actually have to go out and find them
yourself, which means fewer and fewer people actually do.
Calvin
& Hobbes has also survived because it is, quite simply, a brilliant comic
strip. Teachers and parents recommend it to their kids – who love it just as
much as those teachers and parents did when they were kids. There is a timeless
quality to Calvin & Hobbes, and it is instantly relatable to any kid out
there. It means something more to them that just making them laugh – which it
still does. The strip, perhaps more than anything other piece of art in any
medium I can think of, captures precisely what it is like to be a kid – that fantasy
world they go off into, that confuses adults, but seems perfectly normal to
children.
The
film Dear Mr. Watterson is an average documentary. Schroeder admits he doesn’t really
have any expertise when it comes to comics strips – he’s just a fan of Calvin
and Hobbes and wanted to explore what it meant to people, and why it has had
the impact it did. It doesn’t really matter that he doesn’t have expertise –
many of the people he interviews does. You can hear it in the way almost
everyone speaks about Calvin & Hobbes and Bill Watterson – a mixture of
awe, envy, jealously, and even a little bitterness. His fellow artist all admit
that they loved Calvin & Hobbes – they also wish they could do something
like as good as it was. They can also be defensive about their own decision to
license their characters. One artist makes the point – a valid one, I think –
that it wasn’t just artistic purity that drove Watterson to not license his
characters- but stubbornness, and control issues. As soon as you let other
people into our creation – to make toys or TV shows or whatever else, you give
up a certain amount of control. It’s now not just you deciding things – but a
whole group of people. People who are drawn to this sort of work are not the
most naturally social people in the world – they spend all day at a desk by
themselves, drawing and writing their strips. They have complete freedom and
control. As soon as you license it, you lose that complete control.
No
matter the reason why Calvin & Hobbes has endured, it has endured – and it
deserves to. The film is like many recent documentaries – a film made by a fan,
for other fans. Perhaps a deeper film could be made about Watterson and Calvin
& Hobbes – but you would almost certainly need his participation to make
that film, and I don’t see that happening any time too soon. Perhaps the best
reason to see the film is remind you why you loved Calvin & Hobbes so much
in the first place. Since watching the film, I’ve gone back through the one
collection of it that I still own (the one that survived) – and when that wasn’t
enough, I went to the library and checked out a few more. The library books
have taken a beating – they are dog eared, have rips and have been taped back
together. They have been well loved by many – which is fitting. If for no other
reason, I’m happy I saw Dear Mr. Watterson because it has inspired me to spend
a few more hours with my old friends Calvin & Hobbes.
No comments:
Post a Comment