"Shh!"
--
It's been too long since I've written a review of this
show! Let's jump right into it with two more Oscar-centric offerings: "Oscar
& His Demon" and "The Emily Ghost Institute for Manners and Magical
Etiquette.
"Oscar & His Demon" is, to put it plain and simple, the season's
first big home run. That's not a strike against the season at all; there's been
an appreciably experimental vibe, with
SCI trying out different ideas and
shifting its priorities around in curious, thoughtful ways. This feels like the
first time that curiosity has crystallized into something truly solid, though,
and despite the fact that it frames itself in such a unique way, it manages to
highlight the show's greatest qualities, fully unhindered by its theoretical
sense of restraint.
What's immediately striking about the episode is that it takes place, almost
entirely, in silence. It's a risk that a lot of shows have taken, and it makes
sense for SCI to take an interest to that concept; for as integral as its
dialogue usually is, I've always felt that it was a show that had an astute
ear for sound design and low-key visual humor. We've seen drips and drabs of
what magic the show can do when it holds its tongue—both "Time Traveling Quick
Pants" and "Radio Silence" establish a strong precedent for the success of an
episode like this—so I was naturally excited to hear that the show would be,
in "Oscar & His Demon," fully committed to the concept. But what makes the
episode so great isn't just that it succeeds at that challenge; it uses the
opportunity to tell a compelling, meaningful story about Oscar's character.
It doesn't hurt that the premise is delightfully characteristic of the show:
when the library's door hinge breaks, the entire island is forced to observe its
rules by operating in respectful silence. Oscar, then, is tasked with retrieving
berries for a door repair potion, but things quickly come to a halt when he
discovers that the one path to the berry patch is guarded by two menacing eyes
peering out the hole of a nearby tree. Under normal circumstances, Oscar could
fan out of his anxieties to Hedgehog, or indeed, anyone else, but the silence
turns him into a liability. Without the ability to communicate his fears beyond
nervous shrugs, he's left to resolve the situation on his own, to build up the
courage and find the ingenuity to solve the problem that's plaguing him lest he
hold up the progress of the entire island.
I can't think of a worse nightmare for the character than being forced to face
up to fears that others refuse to assist him in confronting, let alone
understand; Hedgehog merely shakes her head in dismay and silently shouts
"Oscar!" to herself, and the librarian scolds him for his lack of urgency. The
closest he gets to camaraderie is his attempt to get Howard to protect him
across the bridge, which works about as well as anyone who knows Howard's
character would expect. (Badly—just let the poor guy measure his bushes!)
"Oscar & His Demon" really takes off, though, once Oscar feels
strong-armed into taking things into his own hands. He attempts to distract
the creature with a pile of oranges, but when they all get snatched up
before he's done picking the berry patch, he finds himself cornered... and
motivated to outsmart the beast. It's a flash of brilliance from the
character, and one indebted to his childish perception of things,
constructing a large bit of camouflage from wood and scraps from his picnic
basket to appear as a freakish, tall beast; even better, it works... only to
reveal that the two eyes glaring at him inside the tree were the fur
patterns on a rabbit's ears who was doing the same.
Since Season 2's masterful "Glow Worm," I've been dying to see
SCI delve deeper into the sweetness intrinsic to Oscar's character,
and "Oscar & His Demon" is delightfully attentive to that. When he sees
the rabbit leap out of the hole in fear and cower behind it, Oscar
immediately gives up the ghost and reveals his trick, befriending the
creature with a couple berries. That's the sort of plot development which
demonstrates, to me, the thoughtful strength of the show's writing; it's
this little moment of "Hey, there was nothing to be scared of after all!"
that doesn't feel cynical so much as pure and well-observed. It's a victory
for Oscar that alleviates him of his anxieties and restores him to his best
self, even making a new friend in the process!
Now, the ending of the episode has proven to be... perhaps a bit polarizing.
It's a strange note to close things on, even if I can get what "Oscar & His
Demon" is aiming for. When Oscar's celebration upon fixing the door is met
with aggressive shushes because he's still standing inside of the library, his
new bunny friend goes off on them for not living lives filled with wonder and
spontaneity. I think it's a good way to bring the cathartic nature of the
episode to a head, personally; after enduring so much time in isolation,
surrounded by people who fail to understand his struggles and ultimate
success, Oscar deserves to celebrate and verbalize his personal triumph. The
ultimate down note of the rabbit's speech that we close out on is perhaps a
bit too mean-spirited, but I love that someone will defend Oscar's right to
his pride and joy on his own behalf—it's not like he ever would himself.
Ultimately, too, I can't complain about the show exploring new tones; if
anything, it's a nice, experimental book-end to such a winningly experimental
episode.
"The Emily Ghost Institute of Manners and Magical Etiquette," in
addition to running away with the title of "longest
Summer Camp Island episode
name ever," further feeds into an exploration of Oscar's guileless character
by turning a core tenet of who he is on its head. What if, despite Oscar's
best efforts, he's not as nice of a person as he prides himself on being? He
may be a gentleman by the standards of your everyday animal-folk, but
following a chance encounter with Ghost the Ernest—so insulted by having the
door held for him that he insists on delivering Oscar a knuckle sandwich—Oscar
realizes it might be in his best interest to learn proper etiquette for the
new sorts of characters he interacts with in his daily, summer camp life.
Perhaps the most unique offering of "Emily Ghost" is that it enables
SCI to indulge in broadening the show's mythology in quiet but
effective ways, exploring the different manners of the island's more
otherworldly inhabitants. There's something incredibly charming to me about
the idea that every strange creature—the aliens, monsters, witches, moles,
elves, and beyond—still lives within a polite society, and what's not to love
about details as specific as, "Don't say you like a sasquatch's house or
they'll feel pressured to give you a tour, and they hate giving tours"? The
inciting conflict of Oscar holding a door for a ghost is even justified in a
very thoughtful way by the episode's end; being able to float through stuff is
sort of the only perk of being a ghost, so what kind of person would you be to
deprive them of that?
Unfortunately for Oscar, however, his tutelage under Emily Ghost on those
various facets of island life is... less than amicable, and he spends pretty
much the entire episode facing her scrutiny over impulses that he struggles
to control. It's true that Oscar can be, to quote Hedgehog, "thicker than
toothpaste," and he repeats his errors enough times that he can't be faulted
for annoying Emily on the occasion. (He does hold the door open for ghosts
regularly across the episode.) At the same time, it feels a bit mean that
his polite, legitimate eagerness to learn and inquire is met with repeated
hostility. Hedgehog being by his side is a nice way to keep the world from
punching down on Oscar too much, but he's in an environment that sets him up
to fail. The fact that Oscar is so intrinsically lovable means that he's
adorable throughout it all and a source of empathy, but that simultaneously
makes me wish that he got his dues more than the episode allowed him
to.
Even if Emily remains stuck in her ways, though, I like that the episode is
quick to remind us that the way Oscar lives his life works for him, and that
his worldview isn't strictly invalid. I think that crystallizes most nicely in
the small moment where Emily scolds Oscar for telling his problems to
Hedgehog, despite it being impolite to do so to a witch; even upon hearing
that, Hedgehog continues to tend to his needs and try helping him pass Emily's
exam, refusing to be fazed by the sudden stigma. The ending of the episode
also speaks to that in a slightly more direct way, with Oscar settling his
differences with Ghost the Ernest and finally nailing his door etiquette.
Ernest declares him a "very polite elephant," and even if he doesn't have
academic validation for his manners, it's his success in the real world that
matters the most.
I do want to end things on a slightly more critical, retrospective note. (Taking notes from the rabbit in "Oscar & His Demon," perhaps.) Although both episodes were incredibly triumphant, and in fact my favorites of
the season thus far, it feels strange that almost everything this season is
coming up roses for Oscar. Hedgehog's appeared in meaningful roles
here and there (most notably in "Breakfast Like Grace Kelly" and "Emily
Ghost"), but it's rather imbalanced that, by the season's midpoint, she's
become an elusive commodity despite ostensibly being a dual lead.
Here's hoping that we can see more of her going forward—in a season teeming
with variety, it would be nice to see that come through in the casting,
too. We've crystallized on Oscar's potential to great effect, especially in these two wonderful entries... so what about passing the baton?
FINAL GRADES:
"Oscar & His Demon": A+.
"The Emily Ghost
Institute for Manners and Magical Etiquette": A-.
Next review: Oscar becomes a father, and Hedgehog experiments with bananas.
For my last reviews of "Breakfast Like Gene Kelly" and "Spirit Balls," CLICK HERE.
If you like my stuff, be sure to follow me on Twitter @Matt_a_la_mode.
If you think my articles are good, that's probably because of my editor, Glass! Follow them on Twitter @Glass_Shardon.
No comments:
Post a Comment