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Notes from the Tortured Bluey Department

Notes from the Tortured Bluey Department

To protect the innocently opinionated (and because I’m fond of this person) I won’t name the online acquaintance who posted last week, in the aftermath of extra-long Bluey episode “The Sign,” “it’s harmless but the number of adults on [Twitter] that dick ride a children’s cartoon is odd.”

Maybe it’s a little odd that I—well, yeah, that I do that for Bluey. The show is special, etc. I’ve devoted thousands upon thousands of words to making that point. I’m ready for me to be done, too.

But today was also very possibly the last Bluey ever. If we’re laying bets, that’s where I’m putting mine–I think the show’s done now. And, to honor that milestone, and the legacy of what I called my favorite show on here a week ago…I’m going to poke a couple of holes in it.

But first, this:

A few days ago, a very popular musician released an album. I won’t use that musician’s name–we could be talking about anyone. But that very popular musician has a legion of fans you could only describe as “uncritical.” When a certain publication ran their reasonably critical review of the album, they ran it anonymously so those fans wouldn’t send their critic death threats for labeling it anything less than an instant classic. Regardless, those fans have devoted considerable energy to accusing innocent critics (some of whom don’t even write music criticism) of being behind that review and sending them death threats.

Again, we could be talking about anyone, and anyway, I’m just stating facts. I hope nobody tries to ruin my life over that, but who knows with fans of that very popular musician.

I bring this up because some of us Bluey fans could be fairly accused of being uncritical. In my BWDR essay on the show I claimed there are no bad episodes, and that every installment is equally perfect. Would I have sent death threats to anyone who dared suggest otherwise? No, but I’d likely have seethed for at least a moment.

A week ago, an hour after watching “The Sign,” I argued, again, that the show had reached a pinnacle, and offered my helpless tears as testimonial. To refresh your memory: at the very last second, with everyone strapped into the car, Dad decides they’re not moving, gets everyone back out for joyous hugs, and cue happy ending. It was beautiful—Dad put everyone else’s desires first, the rest of the family was denied a certain sort of pain. What could be better?

Except as the days passed, a few things started to nag. It began when a friend of the newsletter replied to my post with a few logistical questions–how do we square the episode’s tone with the awkward realities of pivoting halfway through transitioning to a new city professionally and personally? There would be significant consequences to Bandit’s decision–are we just going to sweep them under the rug?

Well, yeah, I figured. It’s a cartoon for babies, what else would they do? Except I’ve now argued that this show is remarkably adept at capturing adults’ experiences as well as children’s. Generally Bluey doesn’t deny the tough stuff, it just obscures it for the sake of children’s sensibilities (the allusion to Bandit and Chilli’s past miscarriage comes to mind).

Then, though, I noticed another sentiment online, and this one was even more compelling. What is the lesson being taught by showing Bandit abandoning his new job and staying put? How many kids watching “The Sign” were preparing for a move themselves? How many of them wished wished wished their caregivers would do the seemingly impossible and change their minds? And how many of them learned from their favorite show that such a thing might be possible?

That’s, uh…that’s too bad for those kids and their caregivers! Bluey may have inspired some pretty tough conversations last Sunday!

And on the one hand–that’s fine, right? It’s narrative, it’s a singular story about a singular family, and anyway, this show never marketed itself as educational–it’s a sitcom. Are we supposed to learn life lessons from How I Met Your Mother, too? (God help you if you did…)

But here’s another thing: last weekend, another good friend of this newsletter watched “The Sign” with her small child only for him to burst into tears–because they had a sign in their lawn denoting recent yardwork, which the kid presumed meant he was about to move. That’s what Bluey had just taught him lawn signs mean. These kids are absorbing shit at an alarming rate, and Bluey is a big part of that at this juncture in cultural history. We’re watching the Bluey generation potty train and they’ll be talking about this show in some form for decades, just like we talk about what we watched at that age. So what’s Bluey teaching?

Mostly, Bluey teaches that life is fun and funny and full of love and joy. That’s an OK lesson, and I hope nobody’s offended by a show imparting it (though I spend enough time on Twitter to know it’s inevitably offensive to somebody).

But today something else happened: for the third week in a row, we got a “bonus” episode, and folks, this does feel like it to me. This episode has big “series finale” vibes, and maybe there’s a movie coming, or maybe another season at some point, but if you’re going to write a Bluey finale, this would certainly be the way to do it.

So Bluey wants to know what it’s like to have kids. That’s the big idea at the heart of this seven-minute installment. Bluey asks the question, but before Mum can answer, we’re distracted by the game of the episode: Bluey and Bingo have two different play plans, and no matter how Bandit asks them to compromise and play the same game, they don’t. So he agrees to split his time. He plays both games, sacrificing the cycling race he’d prefer to be watching right now in service of making his kids happy once again, just like he does every episode. 

And then, eventually, he burns out and collapses in the fetal position, whimpering to himself. His kids wore him the fuck out and it took about five minutes. “That’s what having kids is like!” Mum crows to Bluey. Lesson…learned?

The real lesson comes when Bluey decides to compromise and let Bandit play Bingo’s game while watching the race. Bandit, Bluey realizes, has a right to his own play plan (watching TV). Bluey can take one for the team and absorb others’ needs into her own.

Decent lesson…I think? I’m trying to be a little more thoughtful about this show now, though. I’m trying not to be too swift about it (ifyaknowwhatImean). And here’s the thing…

I spend a lot of time trying to navigate play plans, and a lot of time trying to manage whose needs take priority in the moment. My kids are seven, five, and three, and there are times when they can play together beautifully, and (more often) times when their needs clash. So I have a lot of sympathy for Bandit wanting to keep anyone from feeling disappointed. It’s hard! Everyone deserves to have their play plan honored! But also–you need to compromise! Both things are true, and trying to impart both lessons is complicated and tiring.

I’m just, like, a little hung up on how it plays out. So Bandit runs himself ragged trying to please everyone until he publicly demonstrates that they have spiritually broken him?

I don’t spend enough time reading parenting books, but I’m trying to do better. And one thing those books tend to stress is: it’s OK to take a minute, step outside, and regulate yourself away from your kids. As a parent, you get dysregulated roughly 800 times a…day? Hour? Minute? Depends on the week. And the urge is to collapse on the floor and whimper. But (the parenting books stress) it’s a little more important to demonstrate to your kids that it’s OK to walk away and catch your breath rather than being publicly dysregulated in a way that could well be disturbing to your kids. You don’t always have the choice, but you often do, and taking a minute is the way.

But no, Bluey teaches us. Actually, having kids is like burning the candle at both ends until you are fucking wrecked. A fun lesson for the (maybe–probably) last Bluey episode!

To be fair, this is usually the lesson of Bluey, and it accounts for a large portion of what makes the show special. Most episodes, especially in the early going, involve the kids proposing a game and Bandit and/or Chilli moaning “Not [that game]!” And we all laugh–that’s what having kids is like! They want something, and often enough, it’s a little inconvenient for you, but you roll with it, because that’s love. Something like that. It’s a sitcom, not Sesame Street.

But now Bluey has chosen to make this the explicit moral of the show, and for once, it feels like they’re firmly shooting over kids’ heads rather than trying to hit everyone at once. That’s kind of what parenting is like, yeah. My kids have seen me do some version of collapsing in the fetal position moaning to myself. Not quite that extreme, but parenting is not always pretty! Indeed. I agree. We all agree.

And I wonder how kids are going to absorb it. My kids haven’t seen the episode yet–I watched this one solo this morning, because I’m a sick freak who [sighs, checks notes] dick rides a children’s cartoon. But now I’m a little hesitant to see what they make of it. I wonder what kind of conversation we should have after.

Bluey doesn’t end with Bandit on the floor. No, instead we do something that made me say out loud, “Oh, fuck off.” Yup, it’s that classic series finale gimmick: the flash-forward. It’s the future, the home is smarter (at least based on the new robotic devices scattered around), Chilli is wearing readers, and there’s adult Bluey at the door. Chilli references how selfish Bandit was to almost sell the house (Jesus, Bluey, it was more complicated than that!), we learn that Bingo is nearby but not to be seen (come on, not even a glimpse?), we get a quick look at Bluey’s kid and we’re out.

Sayonara, Bluey–for now, though, I bet, forever. I’ll miss you a lot. But I’m also happy to not be quite such a tortured poet about it (I’m playing with fire here, gotta be careful) anymore. It’s good to take a reasonably critical eye on any art that has this kind of reach and influence. Bluey has contributed more joy to my family’s life than I could ever quantify. Now that it’s (maybe, probably) wrapped up, it’s a good moment to look back and take stock. I’ll say now that every episode of Bluey was not equally perfect. And that’s OK. I can shake it off (shake it off).