Wednesday, November 09, 2005

He-Man returns (or a Proustian view of childhood memories)


My good friend Sat got me the first set of He-Man DVDs for my birthday off my Amazon wishlist and it just arrived. I'm in some sort of orgasmic zone at the moment.

People who have known me for a while know that I have been complaining for years that He-Man needs to be released on DVD. Finally, someone somewhere woke up, heard my complaints and decided to get their ass in gear and provide me with entertainment.

So now I'm watching He-Man while studying civil procedure, as shivers of pleasure and nostalgia race up and down my spine

As a child, He-Man was far and away my favorite cartoon. I loved the music, the "Power of Grayskull" sequences, and the awesome fantasy story-lines. I even loved the morality lessons at the end of each episode. We don't make cartoons like that anymore.

Watching it after so many years (albeit in English - growing up in Switzerland, it was always dubbed into French - except for the "by the power of Grayskull" bits for some reason, if I remember correctly), I feel like I'm in our old house in Yens, Switzerland. I can hear the piano in the background as my mom teaches a couple of lessons. I can see the backyard more vividly than I have in years. I can taste the madeleines...or am I emoting too much Proust now...

Seriously though. Although I can see how silly the cartoon is now, it's a wonderful feeling to be able to watch it after all these years, and to know that I can watch it over and over again.

Now just explain this to me: how the hell can Adam/He-Man's parents not recognize their son when he becomes He-Man? This makes Clark Kent look a master of disguise. The guy just loses some clothes. He otherwise looks IDENTICAL. He doesn't even take off glasses or anything like that. And does no one notice that this surprisingly similar looking guy, He-Man, has a suprisingly similar looking kitty-cat to Adam's own Cringer, Battlecat?

I'll suspend my disbelief and continue to love the show. Oh, and I'll refrain from equating cheesy 80s tv shows with French literary masterpieces in the future, I promise.


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