Showing posts with label TV show. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV show. Show all posts

Sunday, October 6, 2024

The moral problem in Shimmer and Shine

 

Nickelodeon’s cartoon series Shimmer and Shine starts with a simple and amusing premise: a young girl, Leah, has a magical genie bottle that grants her three wishes a day. However, the genies bound within, Shimmer and Shine, while friendly and helpful, are also children themselves (genies in training, to be more precise) and aren’t particularly versed in the functioning of the human world on top of that. Thus, they often misunderstand what Leah wishes for, leading to all sorts of funny situations. While they generally do seem to speak English fluently (which is never explained through any genie magic or anything of the sort, as far as I remember), they simply don’t know what a “cupcake” or a “treehouse” are, let alone being familiar with such a wild food name as “pigs in a blanket”. Even if you haven’t seen the show, you can imagine the resulting humour. Also, they tend to interpret everything Leah says starting with “I wish”, as trivial as it may be, as a wish to be fulfilled, not because of any ill will or magical laws at work, but just because, at least at first, they don’t know any better.


Nope, definitely not what Leah had in mind.

The entire first season, excluding the final double episode that serves as a prequel, explaining how Leah got her genie bottle (more about it in a minute), follows an identical pattern. Leah is doing something that she can’t quite accomplish on her own (for whatever reason), and makes a wish. Shimmer and Shine arrive to fulfil her wishes, but misinterpret them, causing results that are at the very least wrong and funny, and sometimes troublesome in themselves – from filling the entire kitchen with popcorn, to creating an actual dragon in Leah’s backyard. Through trial and error, the girls spend all three wishes without managing to accomplish what Leah initially wished for, and must use their wits and work together to finally achieve the desired result. Obviously, the creators’ idea was to encourage young viewers to keep learning from their mistakes and trying again instead of giving up, as underlined by the song that is invariably played midway through every episode:

When we make a big mistake

Don't fret, let's celebrate

'Cause we'll get another try

We'll do better next time.

As an added element, Leah’s best friend and next-door neighbour, Zac, keeps popping in for one reason or another, and he is not allowed to know Leah has genies and makes wishes with them: as we find out later, if Leah told anyone, Shimmer and Shine could no longer grant her wishes. Thus, we again have various amusing situations where Leah attempts to hide Shimmer and Shine or the results of their magic, or provide a reasonable explanation of something utterly surreal in plain sight. To be fair, Zac is very helpful with that himself: whatever unusual thing he sees, he immediately comes up with a convoluted explanation for it, concluding it with his famous line: “It happens; it happens a lot!”

Naturally, as fun and funny as the pattern may be, it grows old after a while, and a single season of it was enough. From the second season on, a big change was made: Leah and Zac (who finally learns of the existence of genies and is later also connected to one himself) are granted entry into the genie world of Zahramay Falls, loosely based on the mythology of the Arabian Nights. All the subsequent episodes take place there, with greater variety of plot lines. The human children explore the exotic, magical land, which provides the potential not only for episodes with casual humour, but also for more exciting adventure and conflict with various antagonists, from good but misguided creatures creating a risk of some sort, over the schemes of the malicious but still right about redeemable sorceress Zeta, to the plans of more serious villains that appear later on. (From the second season on, the show also switched from 2D to 3D, with mixed reactions from the viewers.) This also allows for the wishing magic – which is far from the only magic in the world of Zahramay, but is revealed to be the most powerful – to be used for actually meaningful causes, such as curing a disease or thwarting a villain’s dangerous plan.

My problem, however, is precisely with the first season – though it can be extended to the subsequent ones implicitly. All the wishes Leah makes in the first season are fairly trivial: she wishes for a simple convenience, a fun thing for herself or her friend, or, at best, for a solution to a problem (but, again, usually not a terrible and major problem) that she herself has accidentally caused. Her wishes are never selfish or bratty: she doesn’t wish for something that belongs to someone else, let alone for “all the toys in the world”, but even when they are meant to benefit someone else (usually Zac), it is on the level of a little kind gesture or gift, and nothing that would majorly change their life. The same goes for things she wishes for herself: the closest to a long-term wish she’s had was wishing to dance like the Swan Queen after she had seen The Swan Lake – but even there, she didn’t wish for a permanent boost to her talent or skill, but merely a single experience of a perfect ballet dance. While it could be argued that Leah helps all the children in the world in the Christmas episode, when she works with Shimmer and Shine to help Santa deliver his gifts after they accidentally teleport him to a random tropical island, that still falls into the realm of fixing a problem she herself created, not one that someone else had to begin with.

Now, you may say, but she has three wishes a day, not three total, like many fairytale and popular culture characters do (by the way, the original Aladdin also wasn’t limited to three wishes, that’s Disney you’re thinking of), so why wouldn’t she spend some on simple enjoyments, since she has an almost unlimited amount of them? And that does make some sense, although three per day is still technically limited, unless she wishes for (and can be granted) immortality. But I don’t mind that she occasionally wishes for something simple and fun: what I find issue with is that she wishes for nothing else for as long as she is in the human world, despite the fact that she has near-unlimited wishes.

Now, to be fair, Leah doesn’t have any serious problems in life. We see that she lives in a modern, spacious suburban house with her parents, although they never appear on screen (a frequent case in modern children’s media). She is obviously well-off, has a loving family, none of her close ones are suffering from a serious medical condition, and so on. It is fair to assume that she has never been a target of anything worse than another child’s naughty behaviour until she came to Zahramay. She, thus, doesn’t have any immediate motivation to wish for something beyond “oh, wouldn’t X be nice”.

But Leah is also not a toddler, unaware of the wider world. While the show doesn’t explicitly state her age, she is generally assumed to be around ten years old. (In any case, both she and Zac are old enough to be allowed to regularly go outside on their own.) A ten-year-old should know enough about the world – from her parents, from school, from books and movies, at the very least – to know that misfortune, evil and danger exist in the world. Maybe she shouldn’t have gone full Fox Mulder and wished for “world peace” (though I’d be really curious to know what Shimmer and Shine would make of that), but I find it hard to believe that a kind and intelligent child, granted such a resource as three wishes every day, wouldn’t at least attempt to make the world a better place if not for everyone, at least for someone else.

The problem is by no means helped by the aforementioned prequel episode that concludes the first season, My Secret Genies (also known as The First Wish). It shows us how Leah seemingly randomly won her genie bottle at a carnival … but also explains that she was, in fact, granted access to genie magic because of how good she was, and that only humans who are good and kind-hearted, as well as “one of a kind” are given their personal genies. (Speaking of that, how didn’t Santa then have a genie bottle until Shimmer and Shine gave one to him? But maybe better not to dwell on that one too much. Or maybe it’s just usually a human, and he doesn’t qualify. :)) Again, while I see how this could have been meant to motivate children watching the show to be good, the point is subverted by Leah’s behaviour throughout the show. While she is obviously good in the sense that she never abuses her gift by wishing for something that would harm someone else, it is hard to escape the feeling that she is wasting a very precious resource that she could do good with. And we were explicitly told that this is not because she is a spoiled, self-centred child who doesn’t think of others. She’s supposed to be pure of heart!

Now, of course, you could say – but this is a show for small children! It would hardly be viable for Leah to make it her goal to fix everything that’s wrong with the world and thus for the show to descend into the dark subjects of actual evils and perils present in the 21st century. True, and I’m not denying it. However, it would have been nice to see Leah behaving in an actually altruistic way at least on a small scale. She could have, for example, wished for an ill or injured friend or relative to get better. It wouldn’t have to be something life-threatening: as long as it was worse than a common cold or scraped knee, that would have shown her as a force of doing good. She could have had a poor classmate and wished for them to win the lottery, or otherwise improve their material standing. She could have witnessed someone being bullied, and wished for the bullying to stop. She could have wished for repairs on an aging neighbour’s run-down house, or fixing a small, local pollution problem. Even something as simple as seeing a small child in the park crying over a broken or lost toy and her wishing for the toy to be mended or found would make a difference. (But not Zac! There is an episode where Zac loses his toy dinosaur, but that is, again, helping her best friend and the only other prominent human character in the show. I’d want to see her helping others, not because they are important to her, but because it is important to help someone in need.) There are many subjects that could have been perfectly child-appropriate, yet where viewers would see Leah actively trying – in her own, childlike way – to make the world a better place.

Perhaps the show’s creators realised this problem and that’s why they decided to move the show entirely to Zahramay Falls, away from the morally more slippery ground. (Though the question implicitly remains in the background: since Leah and Zac didn’t literally move to Zahramay, but merely visit it often – and presumably in secret – what do they do with their wishes at home? Do they use them at all, and how?) Or maybe not – maybe the creators just wanted to play with more fantasy themes and elements. And that is perfectly fine – and any cartoon focusing on a culture different than the widely dominant North-Western one is a good thing in my books! But still – the show could have been so much more, while still keeping its humour and remaining appropriate for a very young audience. If cartoons such as Care Bears can tackle problems children face in the real world, so could have Shimmer and Shine. I am by no means saying that this makes the entire series bad, or that you shouldn’t watch it yourself, or let your child watch it. There are many fun and positive elements in it that make it worth the watch.

But still… if you are a parent, do ask your children what they would do if they had Leah’s genie necklace. What would they spend their wishes on? Do they think there are good things Leah could have done with her wishes that the cartoon doesn’t show? I have the feeling many little ones would get wonderful ideas that the fictional Leah and Zac were never allowed to have.

 

A stray thought for the end: it is true that Leah trying to seriously change the world into a better place is a plot more serious than Nickelodeon’s main target audience requires. But Shimmer and Shine is still fairly popular, despite having ended in 2020, and the children who were in kindergarten or primary school when it first began airing back in 2015 are teens now. Can you imagine a sequel featuring a much older – teen or young adult – Leah, Zac and the genies (of course, with Nahal as a fully grown white tiger :)) trying to make a serious change in the real world, while still keeping the genies’ existence a secret? Magical powers used in secrecy against real-world threats would have quite the superhero vibe – while still having the fresh take of Leah and Zac not having any superpowers of their own, but rather being dependent on the magic of their genie friends. This all could still be combined with excursions into Zahramay, except the dangers and intrigues there, too, could be shown in more serious tones. I can imagine anything ranging from Miraculous, over Winx, to Marvel or DC in seriousness, and wherever on that scale they’d make it – I’d watch it, and I know my child would, too! How about you?

Sunday, September 29, 2024

Lost (in) translation: language barriers between worlds

 

Photo by Jeffrey Czum at www.pexels.com

 When you visit a foreign country in real life, how do you communicate? Well, if you speak the native language – voila, no problem! Or, vice versa, if your language happens to be a popular foreign language in the country you’re visiting, all the more if it’s the lingua franca of the day (like English is today), you can traverse around the globe relatively freely without any knowledge of foreign languages, counting on the natives speaking your language. If neither is the case, it still might be that both you and the natives will speak the same foreign language that you can communicate in (again, probably English nowadays). If even that fails… well, what can you do? You can rely on someone translating – if it’s an official visit or you are rich, it will likely be a hired professional translator, while if you’re just an anonymous tourist, it is always nice if you have a local friend who speaks your language. If no translator can be found, you can go around with a dictionary, or, today, with a translating app, looking up words and phrases you need. If all else fails, and the need is great, you may just test your pantomime skills. Language is a wondrous and complex subject!

Both fantasy and science fiction have their share of cultural variety, that should come with appropriate linguistic implications. And with planned contact between cultures, all of the above options have their place in these genres. However, a trope is often present in them that rarely corresponds to real-life experience in this day: namely, that of unexpectedly coming into contact with a completely alien culture. Usually, someone crash-lands onto a completely foreign planet (or is at least forced to make an unexpected stop there, minus the crashing), or travels through a portal into a dimension until then unknown to them – in both cases usually making first contact with an alien race or culture. In those cases, it’s highly unlikely even that both parties will speak Galactic Common, let alone have an available translator who knows both of their languages! (Sorry, C-3PO, you’re not always there.) So how do the genres handle this?

It should be fairly easy, right? As Clarke so aptly put it: “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic”. Unless you’re writing a low-tech sci-fi or a low-magic fantasy, and you specifically want the language barrier to be a problem, you can just poof it away by snapping your fingers. One sentence is sufficient to inform your readers (viewers, players etc.) that character such-and-such possesses the right magic or technology to blast the language barrier into oblivion.

In science-fiction, we have ample evidence of this. From Leinster’s universal translator, over very similar technology in Star Trek and TARDIS’s telepathic translation field, to the wacky solutions such as the babel fish, we see advanced technology (errr, or a fish which happens to make God a Schrƶdinger’s cat, but let’s move on from that one) hard at work at making alien races understand each other. Sometimes, the translation technology is focused on as part of the plot, or at least explained to give a deeper flavour of the universe: we remember problems with the universal translator malfunctioning in Star Trek, or the technology struggling with the unusual Orz language in Star Control games. Most of the times, though, the translation technology is merely there in the background, serving the purpose of letting all characters understand each other and moving on with the plot.

Magic should be an equally easy solution, whether a spell is cast to help someone understand all languages, or to miraculously quickly learn a particular foreign one. However, for some reason, fantasy, and particularly portal fiction, more often than not simply fails to address the problem entirely. The travellers – be it Dorothy falling into Oz, Thomas Covenant coming to the Land or Sienna dashing through a portal into Mixia – simply happen to understand everyone in the new world they’ve just arrived to. Naturally, not all: there are positive examples of the contrary (e.g. The Beginning Place, The Homeward Bounders), but for the most part, as exotic as the new landscape can be, everyone just keeps speaking English (or whatever the language of the work is) as if that went without saying. And many fantasy novels of otherwise high quality are as guilty of this as your run-of-the-mill isekai or action RPG.

Of course, I have no statistics to prove that the problem is more prevalent in fantasy than science fiction – and the very idea of making one sounds like an epic quest – but at least the random sample of my experience throughout the years seems to point in that direction. True, there’s a lot of “science fiction” that is really more space fantasy and is far from explaining the technology that it uses, but even in such settings it seems to me that some sort of universal translator is often at least passingly mentioned, while fantasy so very often just skips even mentioning the issue.

I tried coming up with an explanation for this difference, but none that I’ve pondered on seem satisfactory. More fantasy content is targeted at children and younger audiences, and thus less likely to tackle complex issues such as language barriers? Dubious on multiple accounts. Translating technology being easier to explain that translating magic? Hardly. At least to me, the magic seems easy enough to construe. Perhaps the closest I can get behind is that fantasy portals often lead to magical and supernatural lands from an ordinary, magical one, and thus their inhabitants are seen more as powerful mythical beings than just regular folk who just happen to be living in some other world. This links to various legends and fairy tales where gods and spirits address the hero to confer advice or a warning, naturally, in the hero’s own language – for surely speaking any language is within their power. Many cross-world fantasy settings could fall into this category – but then again, many don’t, and the explanation wouldn’t work there. Maybe it’s just as simple as the “universal translator” having become a trope in science fiction, while translation magic still hasn’t in fantasy? But then again – why?

If anyone has any insight on the issue, I will be most thankful, and happy to discuss it further!

A wizard is never late… or is he?

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