The Hulu Hula: Part One

I have a lot of obscure television programs recorded onto videotape, but not a lot of the mainstream stuff. In my own, small way, I was a visionary. I was able to foresee a future technology that would allow for the near-instant retrieval of popular television shows. In other words, I was smart enough to record the crap, because I knew the cream of the crop would one day rise again.

Which brings us to Hulu.

Hulu has gained fame and popularity (if not profit) as the online destination for prime time programs. Who needs a DVR when you know the program will be available to watch online at home, work, or on many commercial aircraft? But Hulu serves the secondary purpose of fulfilling my boyhood predictions and offering up the shows of yesterday… today.

This series of reviews covers the highs and lows of that secondary purpose. Which shows are worth revisiting, and which shows are best left forgotten. What guided me through the selection process was simple. I wanted to know if the shows of my youth are more watchable, as watchable, or less watchable now.

The human memory is a tricky thing, in particular, the mind of a child. An adult mind that is fully formed and capable of processing reason and emotion still bases a lot of what it does on memories formed in childhood. But a child’s mind is less developed and, more often than we’d care to admit, remembers details in a less than honest way. So, depending on how well we are able to filter our childhood memories can dictate how well we can recall the reality of what we experienced in our youths.

My childhood was filled to the brim with television, and a few shows stand out as favorites from the days of dials instead of remotes, consoles instead of flatscreens, and VHS instead of DVR. I can recall watching these shows, not just in first run, but again and again in syndication (and, in some cases, again on cable). As a kid, I found the following shows to be exceptional, quality entertainment:

Airwolf
Battlestar Galactica (if you insist… “classic”)
Buck Rogers
The Facts of Life
He-Man and the Masters of the Universe
One Day At A Time
Silver Spoons
Voltron: Defender of the Universe

Some of you may already be cringing. As you should. If you are in your late 20s or older, and you genuinely still believe these television shows are in any way good, watch them again and learn the truth. Or save yourself the misery and read what I have to say. And the truth shall set you free.

What can I say about Jan Michael Vincent, the “star” of “Airwolf,” that hasn’t already been said by his court-appointed therapist? I suppose Jan Michael should have been happy that co-star Ernest Borgenine didn’t eat him between takes. Airwolf was a top secret helicopter that everybody knew about, which was stolen by one guy, then stolen again by another guy who used it on classified government missions that everybody knew about. The helicopter itself was bad ass, but the series tended to reuse the same footage of the airship to save money. This included several dogfight sequences featuring Airwolf  destroying an enemy aircraft with such force that the enemy aircraft’s shrapnel would transform into parts of other aircraft (and, once, a Ford Pinto). I appreciate the show’s cost saving measures, but seemingly no attempts were made to liken what existed to what blew up. Couple that with Jan Michael’s proclamation during the pilot episode that he never wears underwear, and the show is ruined for me.

Then there was “Battlestar Galactica” (listed on Hulu as “Battlestar Galactica Classic”), which my feeble childhood mind actually once ranked higher than both Star Wars and Star Trek. I recall even liking the robot dog. I have changed. The series was garbage of the stinkiest variety. But I actually discovered just how bad the original Galactica was when I tried to watch the new version. If you base a show on garbage, one cannot be shocked to learn the rotten apple won’t fall far from the equally rotten tree. Why monocloptic villains who spoke into oscillating fans seemed so sinister eludes me. How Lorne Green managed to spit out his exposition without vomiting up craft service snacks escapes me. I give credit for special effects that were marginally ahead of their time, but, as with “Airwolf,” it was the same footage endlessly reused. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the awesome theme song that made viewers think an equally awesome show was about to start. It was not.

Not to be outdone, “Buck Rogers” set a new standard when it came to recycling, going so far as to “borrow” footage from “Battlestar Galactica,” and scripts from any of a dozen different shows. They increased the number of “cute” robots by a factor of four, and they cast a man named Gil in the title role. When location shooting on a futuristic Earth proved difficult (what with having to share the Westin-Bonaventure Hotel with “It’s A Living”), later seasons kept Buck and his crew in space (a.k.a. inside a less expensive sound stage). Erin Gray was this show’s saving grace. Rather, the skin-tight outfits she was made to wear (many of which bore a striking resemblance to wardrobe worn by a certain princess from a certain galaxy far, far away) were the show’s saving grace. Rather still, Erin Gray’s wardrobe tried to save the show… but failed.

And then you have “The Facts of Life.” You take the bad and omit the good and there you have “The Facts of Life.” Rewatching the show, suddenly I’m finding out “The Facts of Life” aren’t all about me. For starters, what clandestinely racist writer came up with the name “Tootie” for an African-American child (did they think Shaniqua would be too on the nose?)? Actually, I should have led with questioning the rationale of spinning off the maid from “Diff’rent Strokes” to her own series. That a subsequent season would force George Clooney upon an unwitting population is just one more nail in the coffin.

The people at the old Filmation company managed to make “Clutch Cargo” seem like the pinnacle of animation. He-Man might (and I strongly emphasize the word might) have contained some of the best writing to be found in 1980s cartoons, but you’d have to overlook some of the worst animation to find out. It is a miracle you don’t see the hands of animators pushing cels into frame. And if you want an annoying character, look no further than Orco. He/She/It is there to fulfill the stringently followed (ha!) guidelines set in place to ensure all children’s programming was educational in nature. In case you missed the life-lesson contained within the body of each episode, Orco was always there to smash the lesson into your, if you will, gray skull with a hammer.

If you take away the hotness of Valerie Bertinelli, you’ve taken away the only reason to watch “One Day At A Time.” As proof, when Bertinelli did, in fact, leave the series, it became entirely unwatchable. This series was a precursor to shows like “Model’s Inc.” and “Melrose Place,” not in terms of stories or characters, but that (as long as Bertinelli was featured in the episode) it was best watched with the volume off. Statistically speaking, Norman Lear had to produce a dud or two. This was one such dud.

From a dud to a fully functional bomb, “Silver Spoons” portrayed my boyhood ideal: a house filled with toys, easily outsmarted parent, a talented African-American best friend, and Erin Gray wandering around the house and occasionally hugging me. What’s not to like? Answer: The Rickster. He is, in a word, bad. I wish I did not know his name was Ricky, or that he now prefers to be called Rick, or that someone somewhere tried to give him the nickname Rickster. If you fed into a powerful computer all of the ingredients of a precocious kid actor, it would spit out something not unlike the Rickster. And you would instantly want to take a pickax to the computer. The old dude from the margarine commercials was not enough to redeem this series.

When the subtitle of a series is “Defender of the Universe,” you expect a certain something. Voltron isn’t it. Either Voltron. There was the five lion Voltron or the bunch of cars Voltron (which, when assembled, made it look like Voltron was on roller skates)… and therein lies a key problem: There were multiple defenders. Multiple defenders means the title really should have been “Voltrons: Defenders of the Universe.” I now know Voltron was really two different shows packaged together for American audiences. I also don’t care. I adored this show when I was little, and now that I am all grown up, I resent that it stinks to high heaven. It was the same story each and every time, which, when you consider it was two different shows in another country, could not have been easy to do. This means they worked extra hard to produce a bad television show. That is a special kind of suck.

I hoped for so much more from these shows. As a kid, they were appointment television. As an adult, they simply do not hold up to the test of time. It makes me sad, really. It is as though a part of my youth has been extricated from the timeline and replaced with a nearly identical but lesser reality. A reality in which robots and robot dogs were annoying, good music did not mean a good show, and Erin Gray wasn’t nearly as hot.

But, obviously, there was no temporal disturbance. The reality of the situation is that, as a kid, I had really dumb taste. I was easily amused by televised shiny objects. My adult self is embarrassed by my younger self. And I cannot help but wonder, 20 years from now, how will I look back on my likes and dislikes of today?

Next time: Shows that not only hold up to the test of time, but are actually better than I remembered.