You know books? The chunky rectangular things, made out of paper? And you know how they increasingly seem to be the perfect form for their function? People tried to replace them with e-readers but humanity collectively said “We’ll use them in certain circs, sure. But overall we’ll be sticking with the rectangular paper chunks because they never run out of battery, you can lend them to folk, you can drop them in the bath and they survive, and remember your page better – even if you haven’t used a bookmark – because the whole topography of the thing just makes it easier somehow.” So the e-reader market stalled long before it had reached the saturation point everyone madly investing in the project thought it would.
There are, in other words, still times in this crazy, technologically madcap world of ours when the ideal mode of conveyance for an idea or an art form is hit on quite early and need not be fussed about with after that. This struck me with increasing force the longer I watched Nathan W Pyle and Dan Harmon’s new animated series, Strange Planet.
It has grown out of Pyle’s webcomic series (which you have almost certainly come across in the form of memes, even if you are not one of the 6.6 million Instagram followers Pyle quickly gathered unto his four-panel gems when he launched them in 2019). They star a race of cutely bulbous blue aliens who live in a world very like our own but have a hyperliteral take on situations that neatly points up the absurdity of human existence, quotidian situation by quotidian situation. So, an alien couple expecting friends to arrive for dinner will say: “Let us store irregular shapes inside shapes with flat surfaces.” When the friends arrive and comment on their beautiful home, they reply: “Thank you – we own things but we have hidden them.” And you read the little joke, acknowledge the little truth therein and go about your day a tiny bit “seen”, a tiny bit comforted and a tiny bit happier than before.
Strange Planet does this for 25 minutes at a time. This is very kind of everyone involved, but never has the phrase “Too much of a good thing” been more appropriate. At first, the expansion of the universe – the pastel palette more varied than the original but still in keeping – and the animation of the lovable blue guys feels like a treat. And the capsule history of flying that opens the series, while an odd choice, hints that it will be underpinned by more than the comics’ funny but not fantastically fertile reliance on alien hyperliteracy to keep us entertained. Early flights, an earnest voiceover explains as a rackety aircraft swoops and plunges across the screen, offered only two types of experience. “I may die!” says the pilot alien cheerfully at a plunge. “I may not die!” he cries as the plane recovers.
As flight becomes safer and more sophisticated, the voiceover explains (“Enjoy flying in comfort – and, statistically, probably survival!”), the array of possible experiences broadened. “I may never die!” says an alien in a top hat. “I would like some tiny snacks!” says a traveller in the modern age. “Do you have some mild poison?” asks another as we move into the age of the drinks trolley. “Yes,” replies the cabin attendant, “If you can prove you have existed for long enough.”
But such moments to thicken the brew are too few. The rest depends too much on the gimmick of characters – all the characters, by their very nature – who call teeth “mouth stones”, coffee “jitter juice” and hearts “blood pumps” and say explicitly what humans do not (“Instead of dealing with your feelings directly you are avoiding them and placing the blame on the shifting position of the moons,” says one, after being rejected by an astrology-loving mate). And after three episodes’ worth of hyperliteral takes on situations that neatly, but with no further purpose, point up the absurdity of human existence, you kinda feel you’ve heard them all.
If the moments with emotional resonance (such as the one where a recently promoted Being says to her former peers: “You don’t have to act differently around me,” and they reply: “We accept your theory and have our own”) start to join up – and this anthology-style series does have characters who recur in later episodes, which helps – and the creators start to lean in to the possibilities of an animated series rather than a series of static four-panel strips, it could be wonderful.
Strange Planet has charm in abundance; it has heart and celebrates kindness and sincerity in a way that invites nostalgia for a gentler time rather than nausea. It also has an absolutely brilliant set of voice actors, led by Tunde Adebimpe, Lori Tan Chinn, Danny Pudi and Demi Adejuyigbe, who bear most of the burden of making the uniformly blue and largely androgynous Beings distinct from each other. But for now, the original form looks perfect.
Strange Planet is on Apple TV+
