The inconsequential Mr. Bean and a centuries-old unfurling
published 16 Feb 2007
Little Elmo’s nursery class begins at 10:30 in the morning. It is a daily battle, getting him ready before his tricycle (variation of a school bus) shows up at our gate promptly at 10 a.m. Pulling all charms, my five-year-old bunso pleads with me or our helper to let him finish his favorite program, Mr. Bean: The Animated Series, before he takes his vitamins, eats his breakfast, and allows himself to be bathed and dressed for school—down to his sturdy black Mr. Bean school shoes.
Actually, the cartoon version is a more recent adaptation of the series. Elmo watches the one shown on the Disney Channel, but he was also an avid follower of the series aired over ABS-CBN a few months ago. At various other time slots, Disney and Studio 23 also feature the real Mr. Bean show, starring British actor Rowan Atkinson. Then, even the older ones take a break from doing their homework or strumming the guitar to watch. Sometimes, when I’m around, I laugh along. It’s actually cathartic.
I figured that anything that interested the children that much deserved some background check. I googled up the show and was surprised to learn that the very last episode was aired in Britain in 1995— a full 12 years ago.
So why is this lanky, eternally mumbling buffoon in his slim red tie who became famous in the early 1990s still a favorite among children here?
If my own kids’ television habits are not enough proof, try going to the dry goods section of the local market. Mr. Bean shirts, shorts, slippers and bags slug it out with Batman, Super Inggo and Blue’s Clues merchandise. Bean is an oddity among superheroes and pets. Yet he sells.
Several years back, ABC-5 attempted to introduce Ogag, a character that was supposed to be as clueless as his British original. Ogag didn’t last long, though. Kids and parents did not like him—aside from the fact that he was a copycat, Ogag came across as a nasty woman-ogler. He was worse than a sex maniac—he was a stupid sex maniac. Or at least, he seemed so. Maybe they just picked the wrong guy.
In contrast, the timeless Mr. Bean is pure and childlike. He lives in a tiny flat in London and drives a Mini Cooper, although viewers don’t exactly know what he does for a living. He has a constant companion, Teddy, a bear he treats as though it were animate. He also has a girlfriend, Irma, but even so, Bean manages to remain asexual—he appears to like her only as a friend and companion. She is frustrated at his cluelessness. The last straw came when he gave her a picture of a ring, genuinely thinking that it was what she wanted for Christmas.
The humor lies in the fumbling. Mr. Bean is a nice person with good intentions, but he agonizes over trivial matters and spends too much effort accomplishing little things. He always feels as though he is being watched, and his self-consciousness is simply endearing.
Why do we like this dimwit so?
I am not a sociologist and I don’t possess demographic data. I pray that our fascination with idiots begins and ends in popular culture. I vehemently deny that we, as a people, are saddled with hundreds of years of feelings of inferiority and a dislike for smart-alecks and know-it-alls, so that we can identify with Bean’s many trials and errors enough to take a liking to any permutation of his character.
I really and truly hope there are no deeper explanations other than the fact that Atkinson is funny.
He’s funnier, though, in his cameo appearance in the more recent Love, Actually. Then, even if we stretched our interest in the compulsively elaborate department store clerk who sells a necklace to Alan Rickman—who must have the package wrapped before his wife returns, because it is not hers—it wouldn’t be so bad.
***
The Web site of Ang Ladlad, the organization of lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgenders that is now seeking party-list accreditation with the Commission on Elections, defines ladlad as an “unfurling of the cape that cover the body as a shield. It means to come out of the closet, to assert one’s human rights as equal to the rights of the next Filipino. It means to take one’s place in the sun, with dignity intact.”
The site articulates the group’s philosophy and outlines its legislative agenda—if and when it obtains the accreditation and musters enough votes for a seat in the House of Representatives.
Ladlad is bent on “claiming rights that had been lost from centuries of homophobia and discrimination.”
Ang Ladlad’s chairman, Danton Remoto, was my professor in college. I had him for Rhetoric and Introduction to the Essay. He was also my reader for my senior paper. Back then, he had already published essays and poems—mostly personal takes on being different. Now it appears he has taken his concerns to the national consciousness. I was glad to see him on television in his pink barong, submitting his group’s application to the Comelec. Sadly, though, that may have been just a good video clip.
The reality is that while there may be a good number of gay people who have stepped out of the closet, and straight people who have no qualms about co-existing with members of the third force, err… sex, having an open mind is not politically correct—yet.
Danton said the accreditation was taking so long that he decided to file his certificate of candidacy for senator instead.
A lot of patience is needed. After all, as they themselves have acknowledged, the battle has gone on for centuries. Certainly, forming the organization, attracting members and donors, creating a legislative platform, organizing projects, and seeking accreditation were already big steps. Other milestones are not likely to happen soon.
This is the world in which we live. They should be comforted, though, that there are a lot of people cheering them on.
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