Supergirls and little women, page 2
The supergirl angle is taken to an entertainingly kitschy extreme in the syndicated weekday cartoon series "Sailor Moon." Based on a Japanese comic book, "Sailor Moon" recently debuted in the U.S. after becoming wildly popular in Japan.
The plot has something to do with good and evil battling over possession of crystals containing the forces of the universe. (If you want the minute details, check out the impressive and worshipful fan website Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon). The crystals have been entrusted by Queen Serenity, ruler of the defunct Moon civilization, to the "Sailor Scouts," average schoolgirls who, with the help of their transforming lockets, end up (as the bitchin' theme song goes) "Fighting evil by moonlight/Finding love by daylight."
When the five Keene-eyed Sailor Scouts, led by Sailor Moon a.k.a. Serena a.k.a. Usagi (in the Japanese version), do their transformation thing, they shout out fierce battle cries ("Jupiter -- Thunder!," "Mercury -- Fire Ignite!") and then, like magic, they're wearing their superhero costumes -- scandalously short little skirts and coquettish blouses with big sailor bows. It's like some freakish collision between the Ikettes, Camille Paglia and the Power Rangers, assuming, of course, that Camille Paglia isn't already one of the Power Rangers (the pink one, of course) -- we can't be too sure.
Once you get past those Sailor Scout costumes, "Sailor Moon" actually holds together as an amazingly female-centric fantasy that teaches little girls the power of sisterhood. When they're in their
non-superhero identities, the Sailor Scouts often squabble over boys and clothes; Serena in particular is a scrawny crybaby. But when they transform, their bodies get more adult-looking (they all sprout legs like Tina Turner's), they cease bickering and work together to "right wrongs and triumph over evil." These little women are empowered.
"Sailor Moon" has yet to be exploited by toy-marketers in the States, but that's probably only a matter of time. The popularity of the pink and yellow Power Rangers prove that little girls want superheroines. And what could be a better indication that supergirls are a happenin' thing than the new Flying Superhero Barbie?
The super-empowered teenaged girl isn't relegated to kids' TV. The January 26 episode of "The X-Files" was a black-humored number about two 16-year-old girls who, by a combination of birth chart and planetary alignment, became conduits for all the energy of the universe. Part "Carrie," part "Heathers," the girls indulged jealousies and avenged slights by telekinetic murder, usually preceded by an incantation ("Hate him, hate him, wouldn't wanna date him").
The only person who sees through the girls' facade of innocence is the smartest, most grounded woman on TV, Agent Scully. But their nyah-nyah energy eventually gets under her skin and makes her behavior regress to that of the sullen teen she once might have been (she even gets possessive about Agent Mulder). But Scully turned out great, so maybe there's hope for the teenaged girls from Hell.
Is it surprising that the new supergirls are presented in tandem with accomplished women, like Scully, and Alex Mack's corporate-manager mother and science-whiz sister? (OK, on "Sailor Moon," the wise woman figure is a talking cat, but, look, she's a really smart cat.) For the past 30 years, shows about girls have usually revolved around the Dead or Absent Mother Theme -- you know, Freudian wish fulfillment stuff like "My Two Dads," "Blossom," "Full House" and "Party of Five," in which young girls live with cute dads or dad surrogates.
The most realistic portrayals of female adolescence, though, occur in shows where mothers play an active role -- a girl needs to know where she's headed if she's ever going to get there. "My So-Called Life" derived much of its poignancy from Angela's desire to simultaneously win her mother's approval and piss her off. On "The Simpsons," Lisa is so preternaturally wise, she almost qualifies as a supergirl. Like her mother Marge, she possesses an innate sense of right and wrong and a will powerful enough to make even lugheaded Homer and impish Bart do the right thing. Supergirls don't fall from the planet Krypton, you see -- they're born of Supermoms.
