From the WSJ Opinion Archives
DE GUSTIBUS
A Hero for Our Time
Hooray for SpongeBob SquarePants!
Every morning at 8:30--scheduled in between the precocious neuroticism of "Rugrats" and the multiculti Potemkin world of "Dora the Explorer"--there erupts into our living room for 30 straight minutes the raucous, oceanic mayhem of "SpongeBob SquarePants," a cartoon show for children starring a lively, gregarious but terminally undisciplined sea-sponge who works as a short-order cook at the Krusty Krab, "the finest eating establishment ever established for eating."
In the space of three years or so, SpongeBob--now with his very own movie, opening across the country today--has emerged as one of the most popular (and intriguing) characters on television. Predictably (for such is the nature of our culture), there have been attempts to "deconstruct" him as some species of homosexual. He is, of course, no such thing and is arguably the least gay creature on television (along with the Cookie Monster).
But I digress.
It is safe to say that there can hardly be a boy between 3 and 8 years of age in America who does not watch "SpongeBob" every waking day. That's 11 million boys. Throw in, say, three million girls from the same cohort (for surely not all of them despise the nongirlie stuff) and, by a crude calculation, six million parents (who, while not glued to the show, have it in their peripheral vision and within cacophonous earshot) and one might tote up at least 20 million Americans who take in SpongeBob's escapades every morn.
My son, Prof. Satya Varadarajan, dean of Animation Studies at Nickelodeon University, might be said to be in the 100th percentile in terms of his absorption in the world of SpongeBob. Age 5, he watches, winces, laughs, groans and cheers each move, often repeating phrases that he has learned by heart. He roots for SpongeBob and his fat friend, Patrick (a starfish), and despises Mr. Krabs, SpongeBob's draconian, tightwad employer, whose sole aim (in the execution of which he has the complicity of his glum manager, Squidward) is to fire SpongeBob from his job as Krabby-Patty flipper. In all fairness to Mr. Krabs, SpongeBob--though a cheap hire--isn't exactly an asset in the kitchen.
SpongeBob's appeal lies in his anarchic nature and his deeply felt respect for other people's feelings. This apparent contradiction creates wonderful dramatic tension. Bob is a bit of a silly git, but his tenacity, sweetness and decency invariably win the day. He shows that you don't need massive pecs, a magic sword or turbocharged ambition to be a hero. Anecdotal validation of this analysis comes to me from my friend Nadia Sopher, an improbably svelte mother of three young SpongeBob watchers. Her son's soccer team just voted 20-0 to name itself The SpongeBobs, in preference to other, more intimidating names: e.g. Red Dragons, or Incredible Hawks.
The popularity of SpongeBob seems to flow from his boyish recalcitrance, added to which are his over-the-top mood swings--from annoyingly exuberant cheerfulness to deep funk--which every child viewer must relate to. SpongeBob is a gawky "square" who wins in the end. This is funny and gratifying and in a long tradition of "squares done good": Gomer Pyle or Gilligan or Curly Howard or Richie Cunningham or Bullwinkle.
Many grownups, too, are charmed by this marriage of success and bodily inelegance. And like all the best shows for children, this one "accommodates" adults with flashes of clever language (some badly behaved sea urchins are called "invertebrats") and SpongeBob's occasional echoes of other literary characters. My colleague Joe Morgenstern, who reviews the new movie elsewhere in this section today, likens him to Peter Pan; and the sage John Tierney at the New York Times--one guess what he and his son Luke do at 8:30 a.m. of a day!--remarked to me that he detected shades of Candide in SpongeBob . . .
. . . Which had me scurrying to my dog-eared Voltaire. Sure enough, the first line of "Candide" reads: "In the country of Westphalia, in the castle of the most noble Baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, lived a youth whom Nature had endowed with a most sweet disposition." Some of you may think it's a stretch, but the first line of the "SpongeBob" theme song seems a clever adaptation of the Voltaire: "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SpongeBob SquarePants! Absorbent and yellow and porous is he!"
You don't see the connection? Really? Oh, come on!
Mr. Varadarajan is editorial features editor of The Wall Street Journal.
