Animation
Good Times
Netflix takes a classic sitcom, Good Times, and turns it into a vulgar, violent, sexually-charged TV-MA show.
You’d think that prehistoric humankind would have more than enough to occupy its collective time, what with all the hunting and gathering and fending off owl bears they have to do. But that’s not the case in the less-than-idyllic Valley of Aaagh.
The Valley? Oh, yes, the valley—the one that was destroyed at the beginning of The Croods, DreamWorks’ rather insightful 2013 movie. Netflix’s Dawn of the Croods is a 2-D prequel to the more rounded-out Croods. In tone and quality, it reminds me more of the roughly animated Hanna-Barbera shows I used to watch as a kid than of the more thoughtful and even sometimes surprisingly elegant animated movies we’ve seen in theaters of late.
There’s no earth-rending cataclysms to outrun here. Just owl bears … and massive flying insects … and stampeding buffalo … and venomous spider ants … and giant ramus. So, what I’m saying is there’s still plenty to keep everyone on their toes, mostly at a full sprint. And yet, everyone in the valley still has plenty of time to squabble, fight and pick their noses—and maybe even learn some lessons about family and friendship, too.
The Valley of Aaagh (named for the last word of its late founder) boasts a surprisingly complex social structure. Its residents aren’t content merely to grunt at one another. No. In this valley, not only do folks need to work pretty much full time to stay out of bigger creatures’ mouths, they must also find the time to gossip over rock-picket fences and keep up with the Ooogs. And if you’re a teenager like Eep Crood, the world is just as fraught with social peril as it is the regular kind. Hey, evading predators is old hat for Eep. But evading peer-based stigma? Well, that’s another matter. And her family sure doesn’t make it easy.
Oh, they mean well, as most families do. Grug, the Croods’ paterfamilias, can bonk prey like nobody’s business. But his overprotective nature can put a kink in Eep’s social calendar. Ugga is a wonderful mother, but she too can iron wrinkles in Eep’s plans. As for the rest of them—ill-mannered brother Thunk; near-feral younger sister Sandy; and cantankerous, leathery Gran—well, they’re just plain embarrassing. It’ll take more than a nice leopard-print one-piece to keep Eep socially relevant at this rate.
But the truth is, Eep loves her family, prehistoric lesions and all. And if Dawn of the Croods has any consistent moral, it’s that even the weirdest-looking families have their own sort of beauty.
The series offers other morals as well, and doles them out pretty regularly. We’re told to mind our consciences. And nearly everyone learns one valuable lesson or another by the time each episode’s credits roll—even if the constraints of an animated sitcom force them to relearn the same lesson next time. And really, does that make the Croods that much different from us?
But then there’s that rotten egg smell wafting through the lesson-filled air. Juvenile jokes riff on gaseous outbursts and bathroom activities, and in the very first episode Gran strips down to her birthday suit to go skinny-dipping. (We don’t see her.) Eep’s outfit is, um, a bit prehistoric. The series also doubles down on the movie’s slapstick violence. Played for laughs, people are dragged off by predators, poisoned by plants, pummeled by rocks and rammed into cliffs. There’s more casual mayhem here than on professional wrestling pay-per-view—and it seems to be just about as harmful. These Aaaghites are remarkably rubbery.
When the Croods have to rescue Gran from the clutches of a bear owl—again—Ugga decides the time has come for Gran to move into the family cave. Meanwhile, Eep is invited to join the valley’s teen “in crowd,” but her siblings aren’t hip enough to make the cut. (Cue life lesson about inclusion and family loyalty.)
This “in crowd” is a group of four or five too-cool-for-school teens (literally; their teacher, we’re told, was eaten by his lesson) surrounded by dozens of wannabes in a “predator defense circle.” One is dragged away by a beastie as they, and we, watch. We hear about a variety of other deaths, too. One man keels over after eating poisonous berries. Grug pulls a shift as “bait,” a role that forces him to be snatched by would-be predators and pummeled by rocks from the human hunters below. Family members punch one another and collectively kick a predator over a cliff. Someone runs into a rock face.
Gran strips naked in front of the teens, much to their horror. (We see their reaction, not her action.) Sandy bites a couple of kids on the rear. Thunk picks his nose. Eep cautions him from making “music with his butt.” (He later says “scuse me” after a bit of that music plays.) Grug complains that Gran never “replaces the wiping leaf.” There’s talk of “mooning” the sun.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
Netflix takes a classic sitcom, Good Times, and turns it into a vulgar, violent, sexually-charged TV-MA show.
While its protagonist might live a nuanced life, The Sympathizer’s problematic content can’t be described the same way.
Say hola once again to the iconic explorer in this faithful reboot of the children’s series.
Based on a popular video game, Ark: The Animated Series features hungry dinosaurs, bloodthirsty people and plenty of problems.
