What’s with The Impossibles?
You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? Hanna-Barbera’s rock ‘n’ roll trio who transformed themselves into super-heroes when danger loomed. They were second-billed to Frankenstein Jr. in thirty-six animated Saturday morning adventures way back in 1966.
There was the Spring Wonder, Coil Man. The Human Throng, Multi Man. And the Liquid Lawkeeper, Fluid Man. They would travel from town to town, performing their music, rocking the fans (of which they had many) well into the night. Or at least until they would receive a call on their guitar-phones from their super-secret boss who would alert them to some villainous menace nearby or some crime in progress. The Impossibles, as this was the name of their rock band as well, would then cut their concert short, change into their super-heroic identities and battle the bad guy.
And throughout all of this, we, the audience, were supposed to believe the Impossibles had secret identities and led super-secret lives! As if!
Think about that. Imagine you go to a Nickelback concert (just imagine – I don’t recommend it). You’re enjoying the tunes, thrillin’ to Photograph and the like when, all of a sudden, Nickelback stops in the middle of a song. They seem to be talking to their instruments. You think you hear them say something like “We’re on it, chief!” And they’re off – bang, like a shot. Nickelback ends their set in mid song. No explanations, no encores, no How You Remind Me. Maybe if you’re lucky, they’ll reschedule the event. It’s doubtful they’ll give you a full refund (and even if you get one, Ticketmaster gets to keep the ten dollar service charge). And, surprise of surprises, the next day in the morning papers, you read that the previous night, only a few minutes after Nickelback left the stage, the super-hero team known as Nickelback, a supergroup that has never before appeared in your town, fought and defeated a bank robber just a few miles away from the concert arena.
Can you tell me that you aren’t the least bit suspicious?! I mean, c’mon – even Lois Lane wasn’t this thick.
So, get with it, Hanna and Barbera. There is suspension of belief, granted, else all of our televisual fiction, be it animated or live action, falls to pieces, but I’m not buying this load of fish twaddle with monopoly money!
Forgive me if I demand some realism in my cartoons.