Toon in: the best TV happens when no one is looking

Washington Monthly, June, 2004 by Justin Peters

Finding the "I-don't-give-a-fuck-kids"

Lazzo's team saves money in other ways. Instead of using high-priced actors, the writers themselves do some of the voices; friends of theirs and non-traditional talents supply others--for example, "Sealab" features the voice of left-wing pundit and Newsday columnist Ellis Henican as the supremely stupid character Stormy. Instead of shelling out for high-tech pieces with baritone voiceovers for their bumpers--the packaging that runs just before a program is going to start--they used simple white-on-black text in informal dialogues with their audience--telling stories about what went on in the office that week, or featuring pithy quotes from the online message boards. When they wanted to promote a specific show, it was done in-house for as cheaply as possible--their promo guy gleefully showed me a typical spot, consisting of white text superimposed over images of jumping flames, bragging that it cost "about $1.99" to make. This sort of pride in spending as little as possible on everything is a common theme at Williams Street. In his disarming Southern drawl, Lazzo explains that at most networks, the enormous costs of producing television shows means that network executives favor safe choices, but, at Adult Swim, "We've designed the system to be inexpensive enough to make risky choices."

"That's one of the things that Mike does, and one of the things that we're glad that he does--he don't give a shit," says "Sealab 2021" co-creator Matt Thompson. "He's like: 'Well, they'll watch it or they won't. Then we'll do something else. If they don't like it, it only cost us 5 dollars to make the damn thing.' He just didn't care, and there's something really cool about that. Because, the audience, all those people? They don't care either. And that's why advertisers have jumped on board and said 'This is where we can sell our cheese!' Because what other block of programming on TV can actually bring you the demographic of the 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' kids?"

Aside from budget-conscious production values, the Adult Swim shows are united by a shared postmodern ethos: ironic detachment and meta-commentary on the metaphors and tropes of bad television. "Space Ghost Coast to Coast" mocks late-night television shows where empty celebrities tell bad jokes and ramble vapidly. "Aqua Teen" sends up myriad interchangeable detective shows and action hero programs by having the signature items of our replaceable culture--a last food value meal--manliest themselves as a crime-fighting unit that doesn't fight crime at all. "Harvey Birdman" mocks the trial attorney-glorification shows; "Sealab" deconstructs ersatz science and the workplace; even the late, lamented "Brak Show" fractured the Ozzie-and-Harriet style family sitcom with its melange of aliens, robots, and short Brazilian men living together in a parody of nuclear harmony.

Signs of intelligent life

Other networks, noticing the success of Adult Swim, have attempted to usurp its popularity by launching mature-themed programs of their own. Comedy Central jumped into the fray with 2003's "Kid Notorious," a raunchy animated version of the life and times of film producer Robert Evans. Spike TV, which bills itself as "the Network for Men," introduced an animation block called "The Strip" in 2003, featuring shows like "Stripperella," about a crime-fighting exotic dancer, and "Gary the Rat," about a rodent lawyer. But these shows largely fell prey to the stone problems that doomed "The Simpsons" imitators in the early '90s, mimicking the format while failing to understand the form. While often beautifully animated, these knock-off shows lack the off-kilter sensibilities that make the Adult Swim programs so delightful. If endless in-jokes about Hollywood and incongruous celebrity name dropping don't make yon laugh, then there's no real appeal to "Kid Notorious." And "Stripperella" and "Gary the Rat," while occasionally funny, are so transparent in their attempts to court a specific demographic--those breast-loving, lawyer-hating 18-24-year-old males--that they lose any real appeal they might have. Indeed, "The Strip" was pulled from the air in early 2004, and the only cartoons that are regularly running on Spike TV right now are 2 a.m. airings of classic "Ren and Stimpy" episodes.