Miley’s Climb, A Generation’s Fall
by Job B. de Leon on September 7, 2010
Today we bring to court the case of coming-of-age shows: Hannah Montana vs. The 90s Generation.
In the eyes of the 90s kids, this isn’t even a fair trial—it’s an automatic conviction. When we turn on the TV, we scoff at kids shows today because to us, the disparity is quite clear: today’s TV icons just don’t measure against those we grew up with, and those that grew up with us. But beyond the blonde wig and the gleaming teeth, let’s try examining the evidence.
The first rule of fiction is that no matter how outlandish its universe is, its internal logic must hold. The gripe here against Hannah Montana is that you can’t be an anonymous pop star, an assertion that feels more like a plot convenience than a believable reality, especially in today’s all-access culture which it implies to still be a part of.
Next, if it is to be a coming-of-age story, premium must be placed on the growth of the characters. Here, the stage lights leave Hannah Montana exposed. While her forays into the professional world try to imply growth resulting in maturity, it is largely underdeveloped: her “caught-in-the-middleness” is a superficial situation.
There is little character growth between episodes. Viewers don’t watch it for her so-called quest to find her true self—the show is premised on her character’s duality, and therefore will never be resolved.
Without a story, it gets along by literally staging a spectacle, artificially creating an icon for kids to aspire to. This is milked for all its worth, and proof are the popularity Miley Cyrus records and exorbitantly priced, sold-out concerts.
“[Few shows today] actually try to establish a premise then build or sustain a narrative throughout their seasons,” says pop culture savant Mahar Mangahas. With a focus on plot development, watching cartoons back then meant that paradoxically, you were in this instant gratification for the long haul.
Mahar says that stories then “were more driven by the premised situations the characters occupied.” This is truer for shows from the 90s and early 00s—a line-up that includes As Told by Ginger, Lizzie McGuire, Clarissa Explains It All, and Hey Arnold!. These shows portrayed teens adapting to real situations: skirmishes with adults, trials with friends, and celebrating youthfulness for youthfulness’ sake.
“The characters depicted back then were more realistic,” says Jaya Tria, an avid TV viewer. “Parang ngayon, sobrang
high-strung nila.”
We may not like TV’s hottest offerings, but we can’t say previous generations were ‘all that.’ After all, formulaic, single-serving satisfaction was also the theme of the classic cartoons starring Mickey Mouse, The Looney Tunes, and Tom and Jerry.
The trend of have-it-all tween girls can also be traced—literally to its infancy—to the 90s. The Olsen twins paved the way for movies involving fashion-forward girls in serendipitous situations. In the same way that there are no anonymous pop stars, there can’t possibly be that many siblings traveling the globe, finding romance, and living happily ever after.
This shouldn’t imply that Hannah Montana is acceptable because TV has been done like this before. It’s a sign of regression that assumes a simplistic audience, an assumption that we should reject.
It’s not over yet. Signs point to an upswing in the quality of coming-of-age icons. Phineas and Ferb appears to be just another kids’ show, but the series is very self-aware. It routinely taunts the episode structure it with outside references, repeat gags, and witty humor. Shows like Avatar: The Last Airbender and—to a lesser extent—Ben 10 are narrative-driven and allow viewers to invest in the growth of Aang and Ben.
They’re not as popular, but it’s a promising start. Hopefully, TV can someday move away from empty icons and offer this generation a story to tell.
