A while back, my friend lent me some seasons of Little House on the Prairie
as comfort viewing for my mom as she was recovering from hip surgery.
It’s a wonderful show to lose yourself in, a reminder of a time when
life was simultaneously simpler and more difficult. Granted, the vision
of Michael Landon and others cast a rosier glow on some aspects of
pioneer life and also gave it a more contemporary feel than the original
Laura Ingalls Wilder stories. Nonetheless, it’s the sort of feel-good,
wholesome show that grandparents love and kids don’t mind watching
because there’s always so much mischief for youngsters to get into.
The second season is much like the first,
focusing largely on the Ingalls family, especially demure Mary (Melissa
Sue Anderson) and spunky Laura (Melissa Gilbert). Several of my
favorite episodes involve Laura’s open-hearted and rather tomboyish
tendencies, which lead her to form strong bonds with lonely bachelors. I
especially love Ebenezer Sprague, in which Laura befriends the
crotchety title character at the fishing hole, having no idea that he is
the miserly new banker who is currently the least popular man in town.
This episode exemplifies the warmth, humor and optimistic spirit that
pervades the series.
Many episodes involve school-day trials,
such as Mary and Laura’s ill-advised attempts at Sunday school
fundraising or the class project that results in the pesky Olesons
tagging along on the Ingalls’ camping trip. Long-suffering shopkeeper
Nels (Richard Bull) is particularly easy to sympathize with here as his
wife and children do their best to drive everyone batty, though his
bratty daughter’s worst moment comes in The Talking Machine, when she tricks Laura into a public confession of a crush.
While those episodes are largely light-hearted, some have a more somber tone to them. Centennial
reminded me of the Occupy movement as heavy taxes have the Walnut Grove
residents up in arms – until a humble immigrant forced out of his new
home due to the previous owner’s back taxes gives them a new
perspective. The most emotional episode is the two-parter Remember Me, which was of particular interest to me because it was excerpted in the final season of LOST.
A dying woman appoints Charles (Landon) to find a suitable future home
for her children, an act that throws one of Walnut Grove’s most colorful
residents into turmoil as he finds himself growing attached to them.
The second season contains 22 episodes in all, and each one is
enjoyable. The show focuses almost equally upon the children and adults
in this tight-knit community, so it really is a show the whole family
can enjoy together, with different aspects standing out to different
viewers. Additionally, the series is episodic enough that there’s no
disadvantage to starting with this season instead of the first. No
matter where you begin, once you’ve fallen in love with the characters,
Walnut Grove is a place to which you will want to return.
Showing posts with label Little House on the Prairie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Little House on the Prairie. Show all posts
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Laura and Her Family Battle Hardships With a Smile in Little House on the Prairie
With my mom recovering from surgery, we’ve been watching a lot of
television this summer. One series that has captured our attention is Little House on the Prairie, a series that has been referenced in formats as disparate as the latest VeggieTales video, which spoofs it, and LOST,
in which snarly cynic Sawyer secretly considers it one of his favorite
shows. While both of us had seen various episodes before, many of the
episodes in the first season, which my friend lent us, were new to us,
and the repeats were still entertaining the second or, in a couple of
cases, third or fourth time around.
Little House on the Prairie is the long-running television series that is rather loosely based on the beloved autobiographical books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The show, which takes place in the late 1800s in the tiny town of Walnut Grove, centers around the Ingalls family, though individual episodes sometimes focus more on other townspeople. Still, at least one Ingalls is usually integrally involved in the story.
Laura (Melissa Gilbert) serves as narrator in some of the episodes, a device that harkens back to the books. This spunky pig-tailed child has a heart of gold but a knack for getting into trouble; her tomboyish tendencies are part of the reason she shares such a powerful bond with her pa, who calls her Half-Pint. Michael Landon is a bundle of warmth and humor as Charles Ingalls, though he has his stubborn and ornery moments as well. His relationship with the practical but fiery Caroline (Karen Grassle) is the cornerstone of the show, and theirs is a model marriage, albeit infused with a more modern flavor than the Ingallses we see in the books.
Less prominent than Laura but still a major player is her older sister Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson), who is ladylike and studious and often irritated by Laura’s behavior, though never for long. She’s a bit of a goody two-shoes, but there’s nothing mean-spirited in her outlook; she’s just not usually quite as fun as Laura is. Completing the Ingalls family is toddler Carrie, played by twins Lindsay and Sidney Greenbush. Because she is so young, she never has much of a role in anything that is happening throughout the first season, and most of her dialogue consists merely of repeating the words of others.
Beyond that core family, however, are many colorful residents. Chief among these are the Olesons, the owners of the local mercantile who stand as a sort of antithesis to the Ingallses. Richard Bull is wonderful as Nels, a hen-pecked man with a good head for business but also a kind heart and a sense of fair play. He’s a decent fellow who seems to envy Charles his devoted wife and well-mannered children. Poor Nels is stuck with Laura’s nemesis, haughty Nellie (Alison Arngrim), and her destructive little brother Willie (Jonathan Gilbert). Worst of all, though, is his shrewish wife Harriet, the scourge of the town who is played with devilish glee by Scottie MacGregor in the most consistently laugh-aloud funny role in the series.
Other recurring characters include warm-hearted Doc Baker (Kevin Hagen), whose gentle bedside manner and hearty sense of humor give him the perfect disposition for his difficult job; jovial Swede Lars Hanson (Carl Swenson), who owns the lumber mill employing several of the town’s residents; even-tempered Reverend Alden (Dabbs Greer), who ministers eloquently to his yearning congregants; and disheveled Mr. Edwards (Victor French), an earlier acquaintance whose gruff manner Laura adores and who is the only character on the show with his own theme music. While most stories focus on recurring characters, some involve characters who only turn up in that particular episode. In many cases, these are just people passing through. For instance, Red Buttons turns up as a one-man circus peddling peep shows and placebos. This storyline, which primarily involves a phony powder he passes off as a miracle drug, amused me since Buttons went on to play a similar role a couple years later in Pete’s Dragon.
Because of the harsh conditions and plentiful opportunities for injury, many episodes have a grim streak to them, and it’s not uncommon for at least one character to die. In one episode, an elderly widow on the cusp of her 80th birthday concocts a plan to pretend that she has died in order to get her children into town for the funeral. In another, Laura and family dog Jack are feared rabid after both are bitten by her pet raccoon. In the most morbid episode of the season, a typhus outbreak causes life in Walnut Grove to grind to a halt as residents begin dropping off. The sense of peril is acute, and it’s easy to imagine that even the most beloved characters could fall victim to the whims of the harsh landscape.
Nonetheless, levity is hardly hard to come by. The music of Landon’s laugh rumbles through most episodes multiple times, and Laura’s antics often elicit a chuckle, to say nothing of the calamitous occurrences in the Oleson household. It may be a time of simple pleasures, but those pleasures are very visceral. There’s genuine joy in the pick-up baseball games and the picnics that are such a favorite after-church pastime, with homemade goodies spread out over blankets under a sunny sky. The faith of these hard-working and hard-playing residents helps sustain them as they move along toward their next set of challenges.
And of course, there is love. The Ingallses are a model for the whole community in this regard, both in terms of the familial relationship and the strong partnership between Charles and Caroline. The Olesons model a very different sort of marriage, but love is present there as well, as evidenced by the conclusion of the episode in which the two of them have an explosive fight and nearly split up. We see puppy love when Laura falls for an older classmate, who, in a later episode, falls for a burlesque dancer he meets when he decides to run away from home. The romantic storyline that intrigued me most involves Doc Baker and Harriet’s visiting niece forming a swift mutual affection for one another, only to be thwarted by an unfortunate circumstance, though not the one I expected.
The first season includes several iconic episodes, including Harvest of Friends, in which the Ingalls family sets up house at Plum Creek and becomes acquainted with the townspeople, and The Lord Is My Shepherd, the two-parter in which Caroline has a baby who dies and a guilt-stricken Laura, who was bitterly jealous of him, literally heads for the hills in an effort to convince God to swap her life for that of her baby brother. This episode covers a span of at least a year, which throws the timeline off a bit. For instance, in the Christmas episode, Mary mentions that this is the first Christmas at Plum Creek, but it would have to be at least the second. Nonetheless, it’s a powerful episode and one of several in which Christian faith plays a significant role, which is one of the reasons the show is so popular with people like my grandma, who bemoans the lack of traditional values on contemporary television.
Little House on the Prairie is a wholesome show that blends the old-fashioned with more modern sensibilities. Charles and Caroline sometimes seem a little too hip for the 1880s, and some of the topics they broach seem to reflect the 1970s more than that earlier era. It’s definitely a different animal than the books, but if you enjoyed reading about Laura’s pioneer adventures, chances are you will like watching the stories that unfold in a mildly fictionalized version of that world. And if the old-timey setting doesn’t appeal to you, give it a try, and you may just find that the residents of Walnut Grove are not so very different from us.
Little House on the Prairie is the long-running television series that is rather loosely based on the beloved autobiographical books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The show, which takes place in the late 1800s in the tiny town of Walnut Grove, centers around the Ingalls family, though individual episodes sometimes focus more on other townspeople. Still, at least one Ingalls is usually integrally involved in the story.
Laura (Melissa Gilbert) serves as narrator in some of the episodes, a device that harkens back to the books. This spunky pig-tailed child has a heart of gold but a knack for getting into trouble; her tomboyish tendencies are part of the reason she shares such a powerful bond with her pa, who calls her Half-Pint. Michael Landon is a bundle of warmth and humor as Charles Ingalls, though he has his stubborn and ornery moments as well. His relationship with the practical but fiery Caroline (Karen Grassle) is the cornerstone of the show, and theirs is a model marriage, albeit infused with a more modern flavor than the Ingallses we see in the books.
Less prominent than Laura but still a major player is her older sister Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson), who is ladylike and studious and often irritated by Laura’s behavior, though never for long. She’s a bit of a goody two-shoes, but there’s nothing mean-spirited in her outlook; she’s just not usually quite as fun as Laura is. Completing the Ingalls family is toddler Carrie, played by twins Lindsay and Sidney Greenbush. Because she is so young, she never has much of a role in anything that is happening throughout the first season, and most of her dialogue consists merely of repeating the words of others.
Beyond that core family, however, are many colorful residents. Chief among these are the Olesons, the owners of the local mercantile who stand as a sort of antithesis to the Ingallses. Richard Bull is wonderful as Nels, a hen-pecked man with a good head for business but also a kind heart and a sense of fair play. He’s a decent fellow who seems to envy Charles his devoted wife and well-mannered children. Poor Nels is stuck with Laura’s nemesis, haughty Nellie (Alison Arngrim), and her destructive little brother Willie (Jonathan Gilbert). Worst of all, though, is his shrewish wife Harriet, the scourge of the town who is played with devilish glee by Scottie MacGregor in the most consistently laugh-aloud funny role in the series.
Other recurring characters include warm-hearted Doc Baker (Kevin Hagen), whose gentle bedside manner and hearty sense of humor give him the perfect disposition for his difficult job; jovial Swede Lars Hanson (Carl Swenson), who owns the lumber mill employing several of the town’s residents; even-tempered Reverend Alden (Dabbs Greer), who ministers eloquently to his yearning congregants; and disheveled Mr. Edwards (Victor French), an earlier acquaintance whose gruff manner Laura adores and who is the only character on the show with his own theme music. While most stories focus on recurring characters, some involve characters who only turn up in that particular episode. In many cases, these are just people passing through. For instance, Red Buttons turns up as a one-man circus peddling peep shows and placebos. This storyline, which primarily involves a phony powder he passes off as a miracle drug, amused me since Buttons went on to play a similar role a couple years later in Pete’s Dragon.
Because of the harsh conditions and plentiful opportunities for injury, many episodes have a grim streak to them, and it’s not uncommon for at least one character to die. In one episode, an elderly widow on the cusp of her 80th birthday concocts a plan to pretend that she has died in order to get her children into town for the funeral. In another, Laura and family dog Jack are feared rabid after both are bitten by her pet raccoon. In the most morbid episode of the season, a typhus outbreak causes life in Walnut Grove to grind to a halt as residents begin dropping off. The sense of peril is acute, and it’s easy to imagine that even the most beloved characters could fall victim to the whims of the harsh landscape.
Nonetheless, levity is hardly hard to come by. The music of Landon’s laugh rumbles through most episodes multiple times, and Laura’s antics often elicit a chuckle, to say nothing of the calamitous occurrences in the Oleson household. It may be a time of simple pleasures, but those pleasures are very visceral. There’s genuine joy in the pick-up baseball games and the picnics that are such a favorite after-church pastime, with homemade goodies spread out over blankets under a sunny sky. The faith of these hard-working and hard-playing residents helps sustain them as they move along toward their next set of challenges.
And of course, there is love. The Ingallses are a model for the whole community in this regard, both in terms of the familial relationship and the strong partnership between Charles and Caroline. The Olesons model a very different sort of marriage, but love is present there as well, as evidenced by the conclusion of the episode in which the two of them have an explosive fight and nearly split up. We see puppy love when Laura falls for an older classmate, who, in a later episode, falls for a burlesque dancer he meets when he decides to run away from home. The romantic storyline that intrigued me most involves Doc Baker and Harriet’s visiting niece forming a swift mutual affection for one another, only to be thwarted by an unfortunate circumstance, though not the one I expected.
The first season includes several iconic episodes, including Harvest of Friends, in which the Ingalls family sets up house at Plum Creek and becomes acquainted with the townspeople, and The Lord Is My Shepherd, the two-parter in which Caroline has a baby who dies and a guilt-stricken Laura, who was bitterly jealous of him, literally heads for the hills in an effort to convince God to swap her life for that of her baby brother. This episode covers a span of at least a year, which throws the timeline off a bit. For instance, in the Christmas episode, Mary mentions that this is the first Christmas at Plum Creek, but it would have to be at least the second. Nonetheless, it’s a powerful episode and one of several in which Christian faith plays a significant role, which is one of the reasons the show is so popular with people like my grandma, who bemoans the lack of traditional values on contemporary television.
Little House on the Prairie is a wholesome show that blends the old-fashioned with more modern sensibilities. Charles and Caroline sometimes seem a little too hip for the 1880s, and some of the topics they broach seem to reflect the 1970s more than that earlier era. It’s definitely a different animal than the books, but if you enjoyed reading about Laura’s pioneer adventures, chances are you will like watching the stories that unfold in a mildly fictionalized version of that world. And if the old-timey setting doesn’t appeal to you, give it a try, and you may just find that the residents of Walnut Grove are not so very different from us.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Mark Twain and Hannah Montana Merge in Princess and the Pop Star
More than a decade ago, the Christian computer-animated video series
VeggieTales introduced LarryBoy, a cucumber superhero who has since
gotten three full-blown videos, along with several lower-quality videos
and a number of tie-in books and toys. With action-packed storylines
appealing especially to boys, the LarryBoy videos have found an honored
place in Veggie lore and helped pave the way for more cinematic
side-trips like the expeditions of Minnesota Cuke, an adventurer whose
exploits offer a tip of the fedora to Indiana Jones.
With last year’s Sweetpea Beauty, VeggieTales began branching off into videos specifically aimed at girls. While previous installments have featured female protagonists, never before had the packaging and merchandising so thoroughly indicated that particular focus. This summer, we have Princess and the Pop Star: A Story of Trading Places. When LarryBoy first appeared, we were merely getting Larry dressing up in a costume. He didn’t want to be plain old Larry; he wanted to be special. He wanted to be a superhero. There are some echoes of that in this video, in which Princess (a name, not a title) Poppyseed (Laura Carrot) dreams of meeting her lookalike idol, Vanna Banana, and of becoming a pop star like her.
Princess lives on a humble farm with her inventor father, practical mother and chaotic siblings, and she resents her chores and her lack of glamour. Mostly, though, it drives her crazy that she can never get any privacy. The biggest offender when it comes to infringing on her space is her adoring little brother Pepper. When his exuberance causes Princess to miss out on the chance of a lifetime, she reaches a breaking point. Meanwhile, Vanna is unhappy too. Shuttled here and there by her manager mother (Madame Blueberry) and a gaggle of personal assistants, she yearns for the life of a regular kid. She wants some time away from the spotlight. Most of all, she craves the warmth of a loving family. When the two girls bump into each other on the playground, they compare sob stories and notice their striking physical similarities. If each wants exactly what the other one has, why not trade places?
This is an upbeat video that marks the first time that the main storyline stars a character who is a female child. For the third time in the past year or so, childlike Larry the Cucumber is cast in the role of parent; it seems like they are trying to mature him a bit, or at least the characters he portrays; he’s still pretty silly in the countertop scenes, though at least he is attempting to proactively answer a youngster’s question. Aside from Larry and the double Lauras – one of whom is played by a different actress with much more of a pop star sound – the only other major Veggie characters to make an appearance in this story are Madame Blueberry and Jimmy Gourd, who plays a television personality, though Pa Grape has a cameo on a charming Little House on the Prairie parody that I especially appreciated since I recently watched the first season of that classic 70s show on DVD.
I think the theme is generally well done. Both girls are likable but not entirely contented. Of the two, Vanna seems more serene and wise, while Princess is a bundle of angst and ambition. While Vanna is the one who comes up with the switcheroo to begin with, Princess is the one who is unwilling to let go of the ruse when the jig is up. Presumably the intention was for this to be a short-term thing, just a couple of days that would allow Vanna a break and Princess a shot at her dream, but the corn-fed youngster seems to think that filling Vanna’s shoes permanently is an actual option. As much as anything else, this is a video about contentment with one’s circumstances, which makes it a tad repetitive since we got that same theme only two videos ago with It’s a Meaningful Life. Princess needs to realize how blessed she is to have such a large, loving family and appreciate her unique place in it. Vanna, on the other hand, could use a reminder of what a privilege it is to have her life and of the capacity she has to touch people’s lives as a result.
On the other hand, especially after watching the special feature in which Mike Nawrocki talks about how they were trying to convey an idea that God has a special plan for each person, I wonder if the message is a bit mixed. The lesson as stated on the cover is “being yourself,” and both girls have legitimate complaints about their lifestyle. Vanna wants to feel like a beloved daughter instead of a commodity; Princess wants a little space to dream her big dreams. I think part of being yourself is realizing where changes might be made and acting on them. That’s not to say the video discourages this; it does encourage clearer communication with one’s parents, especially on Vanna’s end. But I do think there’s a danger of confusing contentment with complacence. It seems to me that following God’s will often requires stepping outside of one’s comfort zone. For the target audience, it’s appropriate to urge them to simply count their blessings and try to be the best they can be right where they are, but I don’t think kids should feel pigeonholed either. With enough practice, Princess could grow up to become a singer, and Vanna could hang up her microphone and raise a family out in the country. However, that would be years down the line, and it would have to be the result of conscious decisions rather than insertion into another person’s life.
I love the cozy Poppyseed farm, which has a rambling, lived-in appearance. This is not a rich family, but neither would I call them poor. They have enough, and their land looks like a marvelous playground. I’m less enamored with the flashy Vanna segments. Obviously, this video takes its inspiration from two major sources: Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper and the mega-popular Disney Channel series Hannah Montana. Twain’s tale is a classic that has been adapted time and again, but I have my doubts that Hannah Montana, the saga of a pop star trying to live like both Vanna and Princess without mixing up her very different identities, has that kind of staying power. With that show having concluded in January, it’s already moving into the realm of yesterday’s news, since its trendiness was its main draw. Because of that, this video feels just a bit dated right out of the gate, which is not a complaint I have had about any previous VeggieTales videos. I just wonder if they were trying to be a little too topical.
Like most of the videos in the series, this one has a Silly Song. Entitled Astonishing Wigs, it allows uppity Archibald Asparagus the opportunity to expound upon the history of wigs as fashionable items. Archibald is one of my favorite characters, and given his absence in the story, I’m especially glad to see him here, and his extravagant style cracks me up as always. As a song, it’s decent but not that melodious. My main complaint, though, is that at one point, a trio of bewigged pigs gets up and sings. Aside from Barbara Manatee, a television character within the world of VeggieTales who we hear but never actually see, and a couple of invertebrates, I can’t recall any instance of talking animals in this series, and the pigs just feel out of place. Dozens of children’s stories involve talking pigs; including them here just feels old hat and not really VeggieTales’ style. I doubt I would have objected to their presence if they had just acted like regular pigs wandering around in mild confusion over the heavy objects on their heads; it’s the singing and dancing that annoys me. Otherwise, though, the song is enjoyable.
Naturally, with two main characters who love to sing, this video is heavy on the music, and while we maybe hear one of the songs a couple more times than necessary, Vanna’s hits are very catchy and definitely have the Hannah Montana sound to them. At the same time, they don’t feel out of place in a Veggie video. The girls’ individual songs asserting their longings both establish the characters well, and Vanna’s is quite poignant. Meanwhile, the final song ties the video together and expresses the main theme well. With as many times as it gets repeated in the video, I suspect that Vanna’s most popular song will get firmly lodged into the minds of many young viewers. I know I can’t get it out of my head.
I bought my DVD at Walmart, where it came packaged with a bonus DVD entitled Girl Power! This DVD includes the contents of three older videos with female leads: Madame Blueberry, Duke and the Great Pie War and Esther: The Girl Who Became Queen. While the latter two feature heroic characters, Madame Blueberry is petty and greedy at the beginning of her tale, not to mention too easily manipulated. She does eventually come to her senses, but I’m not sure the video is really an example of “girl power.” However, the only other video that would really fit is Sweetpea Beauty, which presumably is too new for them to want to put in a package DVD. Besides, Madame Blueberry also includes Annie, the soft-spoken, bespectacled young leek who is the one Veggie who reminds me most of myself, and her role, while small, does fit the theme better than the title character’s. Incidentally, if these female-focused videos continue, I hope Annie gets a starring role soon.
For longtime Veggie fans, this bonus DVD will most likely be superfluous, though even if you weren’t getting a bonus, you’d probably still pay less at WalMart than just about anywhere else. For those new to the series, however, this is a great way to get acquainted, as you’re basically getting four videos for the price of one. While VeggieTales has a number of female side characters, Madame Blueberry and Petunia, from Duke and the Great Pie War, are really the only fairly major characters aside from Laura and perhaps Mom Asparagus. While an oddball female character from Esther has made appearances in subsequent videos, Esther herself hasn’t, and I wonder why that is. I would think she could be a valuable addition to the ensemble.
Princess and the Pop Star isn’t perfect, with its excessive trendiness and its mildly mixed message. Nonetheless, the video is fun and heartfelt, and the relationships between Vanna and her mother and Princess and Pepper are particularly touching. Having immersed myself in the Trixie Belden series this year, I found that Princess’s boisterous home life, complete with a plethora of chores and a tagalong little brother, made me think of Trixie, while Vanna’s longing for a deeper connection with her mother reminded me of Trixie’s best friend Honey. One hopes that after the events of the video, these girls will remain friends and share their worlds with each other, even as each becomes more satisfied with her own. There’s nothing wrong with a healthy curiosity about how other people live, but perhaps after watching this video, young viewers might be more inclined to look at their own lives from an outsider’s perspective and see the advantages familiarity has caused them to overlook.
With last year’s Sweetpea Beauty, VeggieTales began branching off into videos specifically aimed at girls. While previous installments have featured female protagonists, never before had the packaging and merchandising so thoroughly indicated that particular focus. This summer, we have Princess and the Pop Star: A Story of Trading Places. When LarryBoy first appeared, we were merely getting Larry dressing up in a costume. He didn’t want to be plain old Larry; he wanted to be special. He wanted to be a superhero. There are some echoes of that in this video, in which Princess (a name, not a title) Poppyseed (Laura Carrot) dreams of meeting her lookalike idol, Vanna Banana, and of becoming a pop star like her.
Princess lives on a humble farm with her inventor father, practical mother and chaotic siblings, and she resents her chores and her lack of glamour. Mostly, though, it drives her crazy that she can never get any privacy. The biggest offender when it comes to infringing on her space is her adoring little brother Pepper. When his exuberance causes Princess to miss out on the chance of a lifetime, she reaches a breaking point. Meanwhile, Vanna is unhappy too. Shuttled here and there by her manager mother (Madame Blueberry) and a gaggle of personal assistants, she yearns for the life of a regular kid. She wants some time away from the spotlight. Most of all, she craves the warmth of a loving family. When the two girls bump into each other on the playground, they compare sob stories and notice their striking physical similarities. If each wants exactly what the other one has, why not trade places?
This is an upbeat video that marks the first time that the main storyline stars a character who is a female child. For the third time in the past year or so, childlike Larry the Cucumber is cast in the role of parent; it seems like they are trying to mature him a bit, or at least the characters he portrays; he’s still pretty silly in the countertop scenes, though at least he is attempting to proactively answer a youngster’s question. Aside from Larry and the double Lauras – one of whom is played by a different actress with much more of a pop star sound – the only other major Veggie characters to make an appearance in this story are Madame Blueberry and Jimmy Gourd, who plays a television personality, though Pa Grape has a cameo on a charming Little House on the Prairie parody that I especially appreciated since I recently watched the first season of that classic 70s show on DVD.
I think the theme is generally well done. Both girls are likable but not entirely contented. Of the two, Vanna seems more serene and wise, while Princess is a bundle of angst and ambition. While Vanna is the one who comes up with the switcheroo to begin with, Princess is the one who is unwilling to let go of the ruse when the jig is up. Presumably the intention was for this to be a short-term thing, just a couple of days that would allow Vanna a break and Princess a shot at her dream, but the corn-fed youngster seems to think that filling Vanna’s shoes permanently is an actual option. As much as anything else, this is a video about contentment with one’s circumstances, which makes it a tad repetitive since we got that same theme only two videos ago with It’s a Meaningful Life. Princess needs to realize how blessed she is to have such a large, loving family and appreciate her unique place in it. Vanna, on the other hand, could use a reminder of what a privilege it is to have her life and of the capacity she has to touch people’s lives as a result.
On the other hand, especially after watching the special feature in which Mike Nawrocki talks about how they were trying to convey an idea that God has a special plan for each person, I wonder if the message is a bit mixed. The lesson as stated on the cover is “being yourself,” and both girls have legitimate complaints about their lifestyle. Vanna wants to feel like a beloved daughter instead of a commodity; Princess wants a little space to dream her big dreams. I think part of being yourself is realizing where changes might be made and acting on them. That’s not to say the video discourages this; it does encourage clearer communication with one’s parents, especially on Vanna’s end. But I do think there’s a danger of confusing contentment with complacence. It seems to me that following God’s will often requires stepping outside of one’s comfort zone. For the target audience, it’s appropriate to urge them to simply count their blessings and try to be the best they can be right where they are, but I don’t think kids should feel pigeonholed either. With enough practice, Princess could grow up to become a singer, and Vanna could hang up her microphone and raise a family out in the country. However, that would be years down the line, and it would have to be the result of conscious decisions rather than insertion into another person’s life.
I love the cozy Poppyseed farm, which has a rambling, lived-in appearance. This is not a rich family, but neither would I call them poor. They have enough, and their land looks like a marvelous playground. I’m less enamored with the flashy Vanna segments. Obviously, this video takes its inspiration from two major sources: Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper and the mega-popular Disney Channel series Hannah Montana. Twain’s tale is a classic that has been adapted time and again, but I have my doubts that Hannah Montana, the saga of a pop star trying to live like both Vanna and Princess without mixing up her very different identities, has that kind of staying power. With that show having concluded in January, it’s already moving into the realm of yesterday’s news, since its trendiness was its main draw. Because of that, this video feels just a bit dated right out of the gate, which is not a complaint I have had about any previous VeggieTales videos. I just wonder if they were trying to be a little too topical.
Like most of the videos in the series, this one has a Silly Song. Entitled Astonishing Wigs, it allows uppity Archibald Asparagus the opportunity to expound upon the history of wigs as fashionable items. Archibald is one of my favorite characters, and given his absence in the story, I’m especially glad to see him here, and his extravagant style cracks me up as always. As a song, it’s decent but not that melodious. My main complaint, though, is that at one point, a trio of bewigged pigs gets up and sings. Aside from Barbara Manatee, a television character within the world of VeggieTales who we hear but never actually see, and a couple of invertebrates, I can’t recall any instance of talking animals in this series, and the pigs just feel out of place. Dozens of children’s stories involve talking pigs; including them here just feels old hat and not really VeggieTales’ style. I doubt I would have objected to their presence if they had just acted like regular pigs wandering around in mild confusion over the heavy objects on their heads; it’s the singing and dancing that annoys me. Otherwise, though, the song is enjoyable.
Naturally, with two main characters who love to sing, this video is heavy on the music, and while we maybe hear one of the songs a couple more times than necessary, Vanna’s hits are very catchy and definitely have the Hannah Montana sound to them. At the same time, they don’t feel out of place in a Veggie video. The girls’ individual songs asserting their longings both establish the characters well, and Vanna’s is quite poignant. Meanwhile, the final song ties the video together and expresses the main theme well. With as many times as it gets repeated in the video, I suspect that Vanna’s most popular song will get firmly lodged into the minds of many young viewers. I know I can’t get it out of my head.
I bought my DVD at Walmart, where it came packaged with a bonus DVD entitled Girl Power! This DVD includes the contents of three older videos with female leads: Madame Blueberry, Duke and the Great Pie War and Esther: The Girl Who Became Queen. While the latter two feature heroic characters, Madame Blueberry is petty and greedy at the beginning of her tale, not to mention too easily manipulated. She does eventually come to her senses, but I’m not sure the video is really an example of “girl power.” However, the only other video that would really fit is Sweetpea Beauty, which presumably is too new for them to want to put in a package DVD. Besides, Madame Blueberry also includes Annie, the soft-spoken, bespectacled young leek who is the one Veggie who reminds me most of myself, and her role, while small, does fit the theme better than the title character’s. Incidentally, if these female-focused videos continue, I hope Annie gets a starring role soon.
For longtime Veggie fans, this bonus DVD will most likely be superfluous, though even if you weren’t getting a bonus, you’d probably still pay less at WalMart than just about anywhere else. For those new to the series, however, this is a great way to get acquainted, as you’re basically getting four videos for the price of one. While VeggieTales has a number of female side characters, Madame Blueberry and Petunia, from Duke and the Great Pie War, are really the only fairly major characters aside from Laura and perhaps Mom Asparagus. While an oddball female character from Esther has made appearances in subsequent videos, Esther herself hasn’t, and I wonder why that is. I would think she could be a valuable addition to the ensemble.
Princess and the Pop Star isn’t perfect, with its excessive trendiness and its mildly mixed message. Nonetheless, the video is fun and heartfelt, and the relationships between Vanna and her mother and Princess and Pepper are particularly touching. Having immersed myself in the Trixie Belden series this year, I found that Princess’s boisterous home life, complete with a plethora of chores and a tagalong little brother, made me think of Trixie, while Vanna’s longing for a deeper connection with her mother reminded me of Trixie’s best friend Honey. One hopes that after the events of the video, these girls will remain friends and share their worlds with each other, even as each becomes more satisfied with her own. There’s nothing wrong with a healthy curiosity about how other people live, but perhaps after watching this video, young viewers might be more inclined to look at their own lives from an outsider’s perspective and see the advantages familiarity has caused them to overlook.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Janet Lunn's Young Protagonists in One Hundred Shining Candles Are Laura Ingalls-Esque
We’re in tough economic times right now. Nonetheless, that won’t stop
millions of Americans from emptying their wallets this holiday season,
all in an effort to create an extra bit of Christmas happiness. The
spectacle of brightly wrapped presents spilling out from under a
dazzling tree is one to which many have become accustomed. That includes
me. But Janet Lunn’s One Hundred Shining Candles, illustrated by Lindsay Grater, takes us back to a less extravagant time.
This story takes place in the forests of northern Canada in 1800, so while it’s not quite the same years or locations recollected in the Little House on the Prairie series, it’s close enough for this story to fit in well with those of Laura Ingalls Wilder. The main character is Lucy, a creative, passionate girl of ten whose long, dark braids are yet another reminder of little Laura. She too has a sibling close to her age, but it’s a younger brother instead of an older sister. And instead of a dog, Lucy’s family has a cat. They all live together in a cabin, and though her father works hard, they haven’t any money to spare.
Ma does insist upon one extravagance as December draws to a close. She must have flour to make two loaves of Christmas bread, one for the family and one for the birds in the forest. Her generous example evidently rubs off on Lucy, because the girl hatches a plan to craft an extra-special surprise for her parents, and seven-year-old Dan soon becomes her co-conspirator. They both heard the schoolmaster’s dreamy remembrance of the time he saw a hundred candles all lit up for Christmas. Now their task is to try to replicate that scene at home, albeit on a smaller scale. But that means creating the candles from scratch, and procuring the needed materials. Are these two kids up to the task?
One neat thing about this book is the way it instructs children on a very specific handcrafting process. It’s so involved that I doubt many children will be inspired to give it a shot themselves, but it might make them more appreciative of all the hard work that goes into creating everyday items. There are other aspects of the story that may teach kids a thing or two about history, but just as important are the lessons Lucy and Dan learn about perseverance and selflessness.
Lunn is rather verbose; several pages feature multiple paragraphs, and some of the words might prove a challenge, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The pictures, which were made with colored pencil and watercolors, are not on a level with Garth Williams, who illustrated the Little House series, but they evoke the setting well, helping readers to root themselves in a particular time. As Paul Simon might say: “A time of innocence, a time of confidences.” A time when a treasured penny could help provide a small Christmas miracle.
This story takes place in the forests of northern Canada in 1800, so while it’s not quite the same years or locations recollected in the Little House on the Prairie series, it’s close enough for this story to fit in well with those of Laura Ingalls Wilder. The main character is Lucy, a creative, passionate girl of ten whose long, dark braids are yet another reminder of little Laura. She too has a sibling close to her age, but it’s a younger brother instead of an older sister. And instead of a dog, Lucy’s family has a cat. They all live together in a cabin, and though her father works hard, they haven’t any money to spare.
Ma does insist upon one extravagance as December draws to a close. She must have flour to make two loaves of Christmas bread, one for the family and one for the birds in the forest. Her generous example evidently rubs off on Lucy, because the girl hatches a plan to craft an extra-special surprise for her parents, and seven-year-old Dan soon becomes her co-conspirator. They both heard the schoolmaster’s dreamy remembrance of the time he saw a hundred candles all lit up for Christmas. Now their task is to try to replicate that scene at home, albeit on a smaller scale. But that means creating the candles from scratch, and procuring the needed materials. Are these two kids up to the task?
One neat thing about this book is the way it instructs children on a very specific handcrafting process. It’s so involved that I doubt many children will be inspired to give it a shot themselves, but it might make them more appreciative of all the hard work that goes into creating everyday items. There are other aspects of the story that may teach kids a thing or two about history, but just as important are the lessons Lucy and Dan learn about perseverance and selflessness.
Lunn is rather verbose; several pages feature multiple paragraphs, and some of the words might prove a challenge, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing. The pictures, which were made with colored pencil and watercolors, are not on a level with Garth Williams, who illustrated the Little House series, but they evoke the setting well, helping readers to root themselves in a particular time. As Paul Simon might say: “A time of innocence, a time of confidences.” A time when a treasured penny could help provide a small Christmas miracle.
Monday, November 9, 2009
For Those Too Little for Little House, There's Christmas in the Big Woods
Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books have been enjoyed by
children and adults alike for decades. While her original novels
continue to be popular, some have discovered this plucky youngster and
her pioneering family through adaptations. Not only have there been
films and, of course, the long-running TV series, but there have also been simplified versions of the books published for an especially young audience. One such abridgement is My First Little House Books: Christmas in the Big Woods.
Taken from Christmas, the fourth chapter in Little House in the Big Woods, this story describes the Christmas that Laura and her family spend in their log cabin in Wisconsin. Though they are fairly isolated most of the time, the holiday brings company that fills the house with merriment. With four adults and six children under one roof, they set about making their Christmas as joyful as possible with their limited resources.
One of the nicest things about this simple story is the way it emphasizes the excitement Laura and the other children feel over the meager gifts they receive. Each child gets a peppermint stick and a new pair of mittens, and that is enough to make them “so happy they could hardly speak.” Whether it’s homemade candy or pancake people prepared by Ma Ingalls, the children savor each good thing they are given, knowing that such treats are scarce.
The chapter in the book is about 20 pages long, whereas this book contains only 14 paragraphs printed over illustrations covering two pages. Thus, most of the dialogue is lost, along with some of the more detailed descriptions of items, such as the doll Laura receives. In the novel, half a page is devoted to her physical appearance, but the picture book whittles it down to just “a beautiful rag doll with black button eyes and a pink-and-blue calico dress.” Then again, we get to see the doll, dubbed Charlotte by Laura, in full color on several pages, so to some extent the illustrations speak for themselves.
Renee Graef makes a great effort to keep her work consistent with that of original illustrator Garth Williams, and some of her spreads are clearly inspired by specific pictures in Little House in the Big Woods. There’s the girls making molasses candy with their mother, playing in the snow and trying to get to sleep on Christmas Eve. My favorite picture in the chapter, of most of the extended family snuggled together, is stretched out in Graef’s imagination in order to make it fit two pages. I prefer the intimacy of Williams’ drawing, in which both dads are receiving hugs from one of their daughters, but I like the way Graef incorporates every member of the family, even the dog Jack.
Additionally, despite the trimming, several bits of writing are lifted directly from Wilder. For instance, both the book and the chapter end the same way: “Christmas was over. But what a happy Christmas it had been!” Ending on this appreciative note again emphasizes the importance of being grateful for one’s blessings, and keeping so much of the language similar ensures that Wilder’s writing will feel familiar when, hopefully, the children who read Christmas in the Big Woods decide to move on to the novels.
Taken from Christmas, the fourth chapter in Little House in the Big Woods, this story describes the Christmas that Laura and her family spend in their log cabin in Wisconsin. Though they are fairly isolated most of the time, the holiday brings company that fills the house with merriment. With four adults and six children under one roof, they set about making their Christmas as joyful as possible with their limited resources.
One of the nicest things about this simple story is the way it emphasizes the excitement Laura and the other children feel over the meager gifts they receive. Each child gets a peppermint stick and a new pair of mittens, and that is enough to make them “so happy they could hardly speak.” Whether it’s homemade candy or pancake people prepared by Ma Ingalls, the children savor each good thing they are given, knowing that such treats are scarce.
The chapter in the book is about 20 pages long, whereas this book contains only 14 paragraphs printed over illustrations covering two pages. Thus, most of the dialogue is lost, along with some of the more detailed descriptions of items, such as the doll Laura receives. In the novel, half a page is devoted to her physical appearance, but the picture book whittles it down to just “a beautiful rag doll with black button eyes and a pink-and-blue calico dress.” Then again, we get to see the doll, dubbed Charlotte by Laura, in full color on several pages, so to some extent the illustrations speak for themselves.
Renee Graef makes a great effort to keep her work consistent with that of original illustrator Garth Williams, and some of her spreads are clearly inspired by specific pictures in Little House in the Big Woods. There’s the girls making molasses candy with their mother, playing in the snow and trying to get to sleep on Christmas Eve. My favorite picture in the chapter, of most of the extended family snuggled together, is stretched out in Graef’s imagination in order to make it fit two pages. I prefer the intimacy of Williams’ drawing, in which both dads are receiving hugs from one of their daughters, but I like the way Graef incorporates every member of the family, even the dog Jack.
Additionally, despite the trimming, several bits of writing are lifted directly from Wilder. For instance, both the book and the chapter end the same way: “Christmas was over. But what a happy Christmas it had been!” Ending on this appreciative note again emphasizes the importance of being grateful for one’s blessings, and keeping so much of the language similar ensures that Wilder’s writing will feel familiar when, hopefully, the children who read Christmas in the Big Woods decide to move on to the novels.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Grace Overcomes Grief in Prayerful The Lord is My Shepherd
I was saddened to open the paper yesterday and read of the death of
Dabbs Greer, an actor whose career spanned more than half a century. He
played all sorts of roles over the years but was probably most famous
for portraying Rev. Robert Alden on Little House on the Prairie. Among the most memorable episodes in which he appeared was The Lord is My Shepherd, the emotional first-season two-parter in which the Ingallses welcome, all too briefly, a sixth member into their family.
The first half of the episode is a roller coaster of emotions as Caroline (Karen Grassle) informs Charles (Michael Landon) that a baby is on the way. He's ecstatic, not least because of the prospect that after three girls, he may be about to get the son he's always wanted. He's so invested in this possibility that he refers to the baby as "he" throughout the pregnancy, to Caroline's gentle disapproval. When it turns out he's right, though, nothing can stem his exuberance, and he's reluctant to take his eyes off the boy for a moment, so eager is he to revel in this fourth foray into fatherhood.
The town rejoices with Charles and Caroline, but little Laura (Melissa Gilbert) isn't so thrilled to see her father so enamored of this baby when she's always shared an especially close kinship with him. Suddenly she feels cast aside, and as hard as she might try to do everything a boy can do, she'll always be a daughter, never a son. She's so bitter about Charles' lack of attention to her that when Charles, Jr. takes a turn for the worse, she refuses to say a special prayer for him, horrifying Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson). When he fails to recover, Laura blames herself for his death and is utterly miserable until a conversation with Rev. Alden convinces her that she can accomplish a miracle if only she can manage to get close enough to God.
This is a powerful episode, and Landon and Gilbert give especially moving performances as Charles and Laura struggle through the wrenching pangs of jealousy, grief and guilt. It's even more overtly religious than most episodes in the series, with the psalm-inspired title a strong undercurrent throughout as the characters turn to God for help in their darkest hour. (Incidentally, this psalm, generally seen as the most beloved of the 150, also provided the title for a second-season LOST episode rich in religious imagery.) Both Rev. Alden and kindly Dr. Baker (Kevin Hagen) are deeply frustrated by their helplessness in the face of the Ingalls' tragedy, but the way the community rallies around the grieving family is admirable, particularly the very practical help Mr. Edwards (Victor French) provides when Laura goes missing.
The second half of the episode takes considerable creative license, but it's such a compelling emotional and spiritual journey for both Laura and Charles that it's hard to mind. While Charles frantically searches for Laura, riddled with guilt over the fact that he unwittingly neglected her in his excitement over the new baby, she stubbornly scales a nearby mountain in order to be as physically close to God as possible so she can convince Him to swap her life for her brother's.
Once she reaches the top, she falls in with an enigmatic vagabond by the name of Jonathan (Ernest Borgnine). Though Laura is initially reluctant to accept his help, he assures her that he and God are old friends and that whatever answer she's seeking, she may just have to be patient for it, and she might as well have something to eat in the meantime. As he looks after her, he cleverly sets the stage for her father to find her, never letting on to Laura that this is his intention. When the inevitable reunion occurs, Jonathan is nowhere to be found, and we are left to wonder whether this man might just have had a touch of the angelic about him. I find it interesting that his first name is the same as that of the celestial main character in Landon's later series, Highway to Heaven.
Little House on the Prairie was a consistently excellent show, but few episodes packed the emotional whallop of this bittersweet but ultimately comforting two-parter. If you only watch one episode of Little House, it should probably be The Lord is My Shepherd.
The first half of the episode is a roller coaster of emotions as Caroline (Karen Grassle) informs Charles (Michael Landon) that a baby is on the way. He's ecstatic, not least because of the prospect that after three girls, he may be about to get the son he's always wanted. He's so invested in this possibility that he refers to the baby as "he" throughout the pregnancy, to Caroline's gentle disapproval. When it turns out he's right, though, nothing can stem his exuberance, and he's reluctant to take his eyes off the boy for a moment, so eager is he to revel in this fourth foray into fatherhood.
The town rejoices with Charles and Caroline, but little Laura (Melissa Gilbert) isn't so thrilled to see her father so enamored of this baby when she's always shared an especially close kinship with him. Suddenly she feels cast aside, and as hard as she might try to do everything a boy can do, she'll always be a daughter, never a son. She's so bitter about Charles' lack of attention to her that when Charles, Jr. takes a turn for the worse, she refuses to say a special prayer for him, horrifying Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson). When he fails to recover, Laura blames herself for his death and is utterly miserable until a conversation with Rev. Alden convinces her that she can accomplish a miracle if only she can manage to get close enough to God.
This is a powerful episode, and Landon and Gilbert give especially moving performances as Charles and Laura struggle through the wrenching pangs of jealousy, grief and guilt. It's even more overtly religious than most episodes in the series, with the psalm-inspired title a strong undercurrent throughout as the characters turn to God for help in their darkest hour. (Incidentally, this psalm, generally seen as the most beloved of the 150, also provided the title for a second-season LOST episode rich in religious imagery.) Both Rev. Alden and kindly Dr. Baker (Kevin Hagen) are deeply frustrated by their helplessness in the face of the Ingalls' tragedy, but the way the community rallies around the grieving family is admirable, particularly the very practical help Mr. Edwards (Victor French) provides when Laura goes missing.
The second half of the episode takes considerable creative license, but it's such a compelling emotional and spiritual journey for both Laura and Charles that it's hard to mind. While Charles frantically searches for Laura, riddled with guilt over the fact that he unwittingly neglected her in his excitement over the new baby, she stubbornly scales a nearby mountain in order to be as physically close to God as possible so she can convince Him to swap her life for her brother's.
Once she reaches the top, she falls in with an enigmatic vagabond by the name of Jonathan (Ernest Borgnine). Though Laura is initially reluctant to accept his help, he assures her that he and God are old friends and that whatever answer she's seeking, she may just have to be patient for it, and she might as well have something to eat in the meantime. As he looks after her, he cleverly sets the stage for her father to find her, never letting on to Laura that this is his intention. When the inevitable reunion occurs, Jonathan is nowhere to be found, and we are left to wonder whether this man might just have had a touch of the angelic about him. I find it interesting that his first name is the same as that of the celestial main character in Landon's later series, Highway to Heaven.
Little House on the Prairie was a consistently excellent show, but few episodes packed the emotional whallop of this bittersweet but ultimately comforting two-parter. If you only watch one episode of Little House, it should probably be The Lord is My Shepherd.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Charles Ingalls and Family Find Frustrations and Friendship in Walnut Grove
Lately, I've been enjoying my grandma's collection of Little House on the Prairie
episodes, which she purchased in sets of two several years ago. I've
enjoyed the show for years, but until now I'd never seen how the series
started. There was the movie chronicling the Ingalls family's year
roughing it out on the Kansas prairie, and I'd seen bits of pieces of
that before watching it again recently, but I wasn't familiar with the
first chapter in the family's history in Walnut Grove.
As in the premiere movie, in Harvest of Friends, we hear little Laura (Melissa Gilbert) in a voice-over noting what she would preserve if she had "a book of remembrances". There are many moments to recollect in this crucial beginning for hard-working Charles in a new home, complete with a unique set of comforts and challenges. The house he builds for his family is larger than their last abode, with plenty of open space downstairs and a bedroom in the loft for Laura and Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson). It's a cozy home, but completing its construction is only the beginning of Charles' immediate worries.
He has a field to plow, and in order to have seed for a crop, he needs to earn some money. He's already working for congenial Lars Hanson (Karl Swenson), working off the lumber for his house; in addition, he strikes a bargain with shifty Feed and Seed manager Liam O'Neill (Ramon Bieri), promising to fix the roof on his shed and stack all his grain in the next three weeks. This means six hours at the mill, six hours at the Feed and Seed and several more hours working the farm with his two oxen - which he has reluctantly offered as collateral to O'Neill should he fail to uphold his end of the bargain. The result of this is an extremely overworked Charles who is cranky and rarely home, much to the disappointment of his girls and his wife Caroline (Karen Grassle), whose patience with this arrangement is wearing thin.
This episode showcases Charles' resolve, his willingness to work himself half to death in the hopes of providing a better life for his family. It also shows that Caroline can be stubborn too, chastising Charles for skipping out on church to plow the field - and then refusing to comply when he asks her to stop plowing the field for him when an injury prevents him from working. We also see their lighter side, particularly when Charles has a revelation that his workaholism has taken a great toll on his family and he proposes a day-long picnic. Unfortunately, this joyous outing is cut short by the aforementioned injury, incurred when he falls out of a tree while attempting to retrieve a kite. Not a very smart move, Charles - but then I guess he was trying to prove he could still be fun.
This episode offers the first glimpse of several important townspeople. Not only do we meet Karl, who is an incredibly decent, generous employer and a fine neighbor, we are introduced to Dr. Hiram Baker (Kevin Hagen), the easy-going town doctor; Nels Oleson (Richard Bull), the practical shopkeeper; and Harriet (Katherine MacGregor), his conniving wife. While Nels, Dr. Baker and Karl see that Charles will most likely be a valuable asset to the community and welcome him with various degrees of warmth, Harriet receives him icily and Liam does his best to take advantage of his rather desperate situation. When the broken ribs prevent Charles from finishing on time, Liam comes calling. How will Charles ever manage to keep his oxen - and if he can't, how will his family survive in this new land?
The Ingallses still have some settling in to do after this episode. We've yet to meet Reverend Alden, though Caroline and the girls do attend church and discuss his sermon, and there's been no mention so far of school. Of course, this episode's focus is on Charles, and Laura and Mary don't come into it all that much. There's plenty of time for that later. This first episode is about switching from an isolated, purely pioneering lifestyle to an existence in a town, as a part of a community. The transition isn't easy. But it's well worth the perseverance, for Charles and his family and for viewers, who would have many more years of these new friends to enjoy.
As in the premiere movie, in Harvest of Friends, we hear little Laura (Melissa Gilbert) in a voice-over noting what she would preserve if she had "a book of remembrances". There are many moments to recollect in this crucial beginning for hard-working Charles in a new home, complete with a unique set of comforts and challenges. The house he builds for his family is larger than their last abode, with plenty of open space downstairs and a bedroom in the loft for Laura and Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson). It's a cozy home, but completing its construction is only the beginning of Charles' immediate worries.
He has a field to plow, and in order to have seed for a crop, he needs to earn some money. He's already working for congenial Lars Hanson (Karl Swenson), working off the lumber for his house; in addition, he strikes a bargain with shifty Feed and Seed manager Liam O'Neill (Ramon Bieri), promising to fix the roof on his shed and stack all his grain in the next three weeks. This means six hours at the mill, six hours at the Feed and Seed and several more hours working the farm with his two oxen - which he has reluctantly offered as collateral to O'Neill should he fail to uphold his end of the bargain. The result of this is an extremely overworked Charles who is cranky and rarely home, much to the disappointment of his girls and his wife Caroline (Karen Grassle), whose patience with this arrangement is wearing thin.
This episode showcases Charles' resolve, his willingness to work himself half to death in the hopes of providing a better life for his family. It also shows that Caroline can be stubborn too, chastising Charles for skipping out on church to plow the field - and then refusing to comply when he asks her to stop plowing the field for him when an injury prevents him from working. We also see their lighter side, particularly when Charles has a revelation that his workaholism has taken a great toll on his family and he proposes a day-long picnic. Unfortunately, this joyous outing is cut short by the aforementioned injury, incurred when he falls out of a tree while attempting to retrieve a kite. Not a very smart move, Charles - but then I guess he was trying to prove he could still be fun.
This episode offers the first glimpse of several important townspeople. Not only do we meet Karl, who is an incredibly decent, generous employer and a fine neighbor, we are introduced to Dr. Hiram Baker (Kevin Hagen), the easy-going town doctor; Nels Oleson (Richard Bull), the practical shopkeeper; and Harriet (Katherine MacGregor), his conniving wife. While Nels, Dr. Baker and Karl see that Charles will most likely be a valuable asset to the community and welcome him with various degrees of warmth, Harriet receives him icily and Liam does his best to take advantage of his rather desperate situation. When the broken ribs prevent Charles from finishing on time, Liam comes calling. How will Charles ever manage to keep his oxen - and if he can't, how will his family survive in this new land?
The Ingallses still have some settling in to do after this episode. We've yet to meet Reverend Alden, though Caroline and the girls do attend church and discuss his sermon, and there's been no mention so far of school. Of course, this episode's focus is on Charles, and Laura and Mary don't come into it all that much. There's plenty of time for that later. This first episode is about switching from an isolated, purely pioneering lifestyle to an existence in a town, as a part of a community. The transition isn't easy. But it's well worth the perseverance, for Charles and his family and for viewers, who would have many more years of these new friends to enjoy.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Laura's Not Quite Nancy Drew, But All the Better for Us!
Everybody loves a good mystery. That's especially true of inquisitive
young Laura Ingalls (Melissa Gilbert) and her buddy Andy Garvey (Patrick
Labyorteaux) in The Creeper of Walnut Grove, which comes in during the fourth season of Little House on the Prairie.
There's a thief afoot in Walnut Grove. Chickens and hams and fresh-baked pies have been vanishing left and right. It's enough to make even the generally trusting souls of this little prairie town want to lock up their doors. Everyone is on edge - well, except Harriet Oleson (Scottie MacGregor), who's tickled pink that the mercantile is making a pretty penny on locks, and she changes her tune once the crook pilfers some of her stock. In fact, she's so incensed that she offers a five dollar reward for his capture, which spurs Laura and Andy, already wide-eyed with investigative schemes from reading one too many detective novels, into a flurry of action.
This is a largely comical episode, at least on the Ingalls end of it. Charles (Michael Landon) initially finds his daughter's case-cracking enthusiasm amusing, but once she and Andy ill-advisedly enlist the aid of Nellie (Alison Arngrim) and Willie Oleson (Jonathan Gilbert), their plans go hay-wire in a big way. After Harriet falls victim to their sure-fire trap for "the Creeper," as they've dubbed the mysterious pie pincher, Charles comes down pretty hard on Laura, forbidding any further sleuthing. But Laura is not so easily deterred, and her next scheme puts her in even hotter water with her father, though it leads to laughs aplenty for us and most of the town.
Laura and Andy are giddy with the thought of being hailed as hometown heroes. But we know long before they do who the thief really is, and when they finally find out - quite by accident, though they get props for putting two and two together - suddenly this game doesn't seem so fun anymore. This side of the story is serious, and it provokes thought as to the proper response to crimes committed out of a desperate sense of preservation, not only of one's self but one's family. Something tells me than if Jean Valjean had stolen bread in Walnut Grove, he wouldn't have spent much time rotting in prison.
The culprit, an aspiring doctor named Timothy Farrell (Johnny Doran), is guilty of too much pride, a trait he gets from his hardscrabble Irish father, Bailey (Bernard Behrens). Unable to get work, though not from lack of trying, this bright young man sees nicking a bit of food here and there preferable to begging for charity. Both Doran and Behrens are good in their roles, though I especially enjoyed the latter, with his rich, warbling accent and the twinkle in his eye that persists despite his convalescence. He seems an especially devoted father, which is one thing Walnut Grove seems to have in abundance. It strikes me as rather odd that these two characters, who have evidently lived in this sparsely populated area for quite some time, make their first and only appearance in this episode, but such is the way of television, I suppose. We can just say they've always been around but we never noticed them.
The Creeper of Walnut Grove has plenty of homespun hilarity thanks to Laura, Andy and the Olesons, but it also has important lessons to impart about pride and forgiveness. When I watched the episode, it was coupled on a video with The Collection, which strikes me as a logical pairing given their sensitive handling of such notions as repentance and redemption. The world would be a better place if we could all follow the example of the citizens of Walnut Grove. Well, except maybe Harriet Oleson.
There's a thief afoot in Walnut Grove. Chickens and hams and fresh-baked pies have been vanishing left and right. It's enough to make even the generally trusting souls of this little prairie town want to lock up their doors. Everyone is on edge - well, except Harriet Oleson (Scottie MacGregor), who's tickled pink that the mercantile is making a pretty penny on locks, and she changes her tune once the crook pilfers some of her stock. In fact, she's so incensed that she offers a five dollar reward for his capture, which spurs Laura and Andy, already wide-eyed with investigative schemes from reading one too many detective novels, into a flurry of action.
This is a largely comical episode, at least on the Ingalls end of it. Charles (Michael Landon) initially finds his daughter's case-cracking enthusiasm amusing, but once she and Andy ill-advisedly enlist the aid of Nellie (Alison Arngrim) and Willie Oleson (Jonathan Gilbert), their plans go hay-wire in a big way. After Harriet falls victim to their sure-fire trap for "the Creeper," as they've dubbed the mysterious pie pincher, Charles comes down pretty hard on Laura, forbidding any further sleuthing. But Laura is not so easily deterred, and her next scheme puts her in even hotter water with her father, though it leads to laughs aplenty for us and most of the town.
Laura and Andy are giddy with the thought of being hailed as hometown heroes. But we know long before they do who the thief really is, and when they finally find out - quite by accident, though they get props for putting two and two together - suddenly this game doesn't seem so fun anymore. This side of the story is serious, and it provokes thought as to the proper response to crimes committed out of a desperate sense of preservation, not only of one's self but one's family. Something tells me than if Jean Valjean had stolen bread in Walnut Grove, he wouldn't have spent much time rotting in prison.
The culprit, an aspiring doctor named Timothy Farrell (Johnny Doran), is guilty of too much pride, a trait he gets from his hardscrabble Irish father, Bailey (Bernard Behrens). Unable to get work, though not from lack of trying, this bright young man sees nicking a bit of food here and there preferable to begging for charity. Both Doran and Behrens are good in their roles, though I especially enjoyed the latter, with his rich, warbling accent and the twinkle in his eye that persists despite his convalescence. He seems an especially devoted father, which is one thing Walnut Grove seems to have in abundance. It strikes me as rather odd that these two characters, who have evidently lived in this sparsely populated area for quite some time, make their first and only appearance in this episode, but such is the way of television, I suppose. We can just say they've always been around but we never noticed them.
The Creeper of Walnut Grove has plenty of homespun hilarity thanks to Laura, Andy and the Olesons, but it also has important lessons to impart about pride and forgiveness. When I watched the episode, it was coupled on a video with The Collection, which strikes me as a logical pairing given their sensitive handling of such notions as repentance and redemption. The world would be a better place if we could all follow the example of the citizens of Walnut Grove. Well, except maybe Harriet Oleson.
Johnny's Character Learns That Ill-gotten Cash Isn't Worth the Cost in The Collection
My grandma has a sizable collection of Little House on the Prairie
videos, and when I was over at her house recently, we had a little
marathon. The first episode we watched was third-season premiere The Collection, and it's notable for its guest star, a gentleman by the name of Johnny Cash.
Since I saw Walk the Line last year, I have a better sense of the arc this remarkable singer's life followed, and it strikes me that his is largely a redemptive story. Growing up poor, rejected by his father and burdened with guilt over his brother's death, he took a few wrong turns in his desperation to make his own way. Eventually, though, thanks to some very dedicated friends, with June Carter Cash at the forefront, and a faith that had never really left him, he became the man God intended him to be.
Art imitates life in The Collection as Cash portrays a man who drifts from town to town, swindling folks who are scarcely surviving themselves but rationalizing his actions by insisting to his protesting wife (Carter Cash) that it's their only way of getting by. As the episode begins, he crosses paths with Reverend Alden (Dabbs Greer), who has taken ill. Walnut Grove's sage minister was headed home to tell his flock about a fire that ravaged a nearby community and solicit donations, but the Man in Black (as he soon will be, since he nicks the pastor's church robes and hat) offers to take up the collection for him while his wife nurses Reverend Alden to health. His intent, however, is to keep the gifts and high-tail it out of town with the missus at the end of the week, leaving the reverend to wait for him at the appointed meeting place miles away.
Undeterred by his wife's Jiminy Cricket-ish pleas, he heads to Walnut Grove on horseback, his glorious voice melodiously echoing among the surrounding fields, reaching the appreciative ears of Mary Ingalls (Melissa Sue Anderson), who immediately takes a shine to the man who introduces himself as Brother Hodgekiss. She's so impressed with him, she offers to shadow him as he collects his donations, advising him on which folks are more likely to be generous and turning on her girlish charm when he has a tough sell. She even manages to trick miserly Harriet Oleson (Scottie MacGregor) into offering her storage room free of charge, since money is hard to come by in this tiny town but most people have some food, clothes or old odds and ends to contribute.
Although his tenure in Walnut Grove is to last just a few days, Brother Hodgekiss inspires the town to muster up as much goodwill as they can for their neighbors in need. He is a gifted and persuasive speaker. What's more, he seems to have a knack for seeing right into people's souls and administering just the right comfort, whether it's to a fiery old widow longing for her salty sea dog of a husband or a little girl whose puppy has just met with an untimely demise. As soon as he dons those robes, he begins to act the part of a deeply caring albeit unconventional preacher so compellingly that we soon can't help but wonder if he's convinced himself that he is who he claims.
Whatever his motivations, as the days progress, Brother Hodgekiss makes a tangibly positive impact upon the community. But every time someone praises him for his virtue, he can do little more than nod uncomfortably and excuse himself. I think Cash is marvelous in this episode, pouring his soul into a character who obviously has enormous potential for goodness, who cares deeply about other people if he can stop thinking about himself long enough. And we get to hear him sing. Reverend Alden is crucial too, especially when he returns to Walnut Grove in restored health for a pivotal culminating scene, and Mary, whom Brother Hodgekiss describes upon their meeting as an angel, truly becomes that for the vagabond, unwittingly instilling in him the seeds of a virtuous life.
Nels Oleson (Richard Bull), an upright, long-suffering soul who is always a source of comic relief as he struggles to maintain his ethics and his sanity under the constant gaze of his shrewish wife, caught my eye here because it seems to me that, up until a critical point in the episode, he is the only one who suspects that this traveling preacher may not be all that he appears. Perhaps I misread him, but I detected a certain edge to his voice, a hardness in his stare in most of his scenes with Brother Hodgekiss. I suspect that Nels gives him the key to the store to test him, yet if this is the case, the only power he exerts over Hodgekiss is a candy-coated guilt trip much like the sarcastic platitudes Maria offers during her first dinner with the Von Trapps in The Sound of Music. In both cases, underneath the wry humor is the implication that these statements can still be true if the listeners choose another course.
The Collection is a powerful episode about community and compassion. Johnny Cash steps into his role so completely, it seems he experiences anew the transformative power of love, convincing whoever may be watching that it's never too late for a second chance.
Since I saw Walk the Line last year, I have a better sense of the arc this remarkable singer's life followed, and it strikes me that his is largely a redemptive story. Growing up poor, rejected by his father and burdened with guilt over his brother's death, he took a few wrong turns in his desperation to make his own way. Eventually, though, thanks to some very dedicated friends, with June Carter Cash at the forefront, and a faith that had never really left him, he became the man God intended him to be.
Art imitates life in The Collection as Cash portrays a man who drifts from town to town, swindling folks who are scarcely surviving themselves but rationalizing his actions by insisting to his protesting wife (Carter Cash) that it's their only way of getting by. As the episode begins, he crosses paths with Reverend Alden (Dabbs Greer), who has taken ill. Walnut Grove's sage minister was headed home to tell his flock about a fire that ravaged a nearby community and solicit donations, but the Man in Black (as he soon will be, since he nicks the pastor's church robes and hat) offers to take up the collection for him while his wife nurses Reverend Alden to health. His intent, however, is to keep the gifts and high-tail it out of town with the missus at the end of the week, leaving the reverend to wait for him at the appointed meeting place miles away.
Undeterred by his wife's Jiminy Cricket-ish pleas, he heads to Walnut Grove on horseback, his glorious voice melodiously echoing among the surrounding fields, reaching the appreciative ears of Mary Ingalls (Melissa Sue Anderson), who immediately takes a shine to the man who introduces himself as Brother Hodgekiss. She's so impressed with him, she offers to shadow him as he collects his donations, advising him on which folks are more likely to be generous and turning on her girlish charm when he has a tough sell. She even manages to trick miserly Harriet Oleson (Scottie MacGregor) into offering her storage room free of charge, since money is hard to come by in this tiny town but most people have some food, clothes or old odds and ends to contribute.
Although his tenure in Walnut Grove is to last just a few days, Brother Hodgekiss inspires the town to muster up as much goodwill as they can for their neighbors in need. He is a gifted and persuasive speaker. What's more, he seems to have a knack for seeing right into people's souls and administering just the right comfort, whether it's to a fiery old widow longing for her salty sea dog of a husband or a little girl whose puppy has just met with an untimely demise. As soon as he dons those robes, he begins to act the part of a deeply caring albeit unconventional preacher so compellingly that we soon can't help but wonder if he's convinced himself that he is who he claims.
Whatever his motivations, as the days progress, Brother Hodgekiss makes a tangibly positive impact upon the community. But every time someone praises him for his virtue, he can do little more than nod uncomfortably and excuse himself. I think Cash is marvelous in this episode, pouring his soul into a character who obviously has enormous potential for goodness, who cares deeply about other people if he can stop thinking about himself long enough. And we get to hear him sing. Reverend Alden is crucial too, especially when he returns to Walnut Grove in restored health for a pivotal culminating scene, and Mary, whom Brother Hodgekiss describes upon their meeting as an angel, truly becomes that for the vagabond, unwittingly instilling in him the seeds of a virtuous life.
Nels Oleson (Richard Bull), an upright, long-suffering soul who is always a source of comic relief as he struggles to maintain his ethics and his sanity under the constant gaze of his shrewish wife, caught my eye here because it seems to me that, up until a critical point in the episode, he is the only one who suspects that this traveling preacher may not be all that he appears. Perhaps I misread him, but I detected a certain edge to his voice, a hardness in his stare in most of his scenes with Brother Hodgekiss. I suspect that Nels gives him the key to the store to test him, yet if this is the case, the only power he exerts over Hodgekiss is a candy-coated guilt trip much like the sarcastic platitudes Maria offers during her first dinner with the Von Trapps in The Sound of Music. In both cases, underneath the wry humor is the implication that these statements can still be true if the listeners choose another course.
The Collection is a powerful episode about community and compassion. Johnny Cash steps into his role so completely, it seems he experiences anew the transformative power of love, convincing whoever may be watching that it's never too late for a second chance.
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