John Kricfalusi
The Ren & Stimpy Show

THE REVIEW

Forget, debaserian friends and cartoon lovers, the perfect statuary anatomy of Disney characters, the classic and pompous features, the shimmering and fairy-tale outfits, the tedious benevolence of aspiring proletarian princesses who ascend to thrones of gold and crystal thanks to the enchanted wood of some unemployed witch. Leave the luxurious suites of medieval castles, Neuschwanstein-style, and knock on the door of the more modest home of Ren Höek and Stimpson "Stimpy" J. Cat: you will soon notice that this odd couple has a much more substantial affinity than the renowned blue-blooded firm, also struck by the economic crisis.

Ren & Stimpy belong to the category of cartoons that can easily be labeled as "badly - drawn": shabby settings, derelict houses, or staggeringly flexible in their furnishings, characters with angular, shabby shapes, resistant to any tampering in real-time. If, in the case of these two "sweet" little animals, we add a considerable amount of bodily exhalations/emissions as well as a unique status as first (or almost) homosexual couple in a cartoon, here is the prototype of an (animated) reality show that doesn’t need televoting and other contestants to stir the audience’s spirits.

Yes, because Ren, a psychotic tiny chihuahua, and Stimpy, a fat, gentle, and irreverent cat, are the "cartoony" transfiguration of Laurel & Hardy without tuxedos and bowler hats and with a little more genuine roughness made in the U.S.A: on one side the little dog perpetually in conflict with the world and himself, moody and irritable, extravagant and opportunistic, on the other, a silly and naive cat, capable of getting bogged down in the most disgraceful troubles and at the same time rising to the limelight of success with the consequent ire and jealousy of his companion. They live together, sleep together, and one cannot do without the other despite not having a particularly high character affinity: their domestic "love story" is a florilegium of the most abnormal eccentricities, lost among not so chic hygiene techniques (always looming flatulence halos, massive nasal residues, clothes not exactly fresh from the laundry, bodily waste immediately edible...) and daily habits on the verge of atrocity (not to mention the times when poor Stimpy had to rearrange his "nomadic" nose after a clash with his sweet half).

Add to these (already numerous) ingredients Ren's extraordinary ability to "transform" his small features based on the contingency of the moment, true moments of laughter (I'd like to see you stay stern and inflexible in front of a semi-stain that stretches, swells, multiplies the width of the oral cavity until it reaches the size of his default body, makes the eye sockets explode and suddenly thins down without the aid of a dietitian) and Stimpy's grooming which, although not a wizard of aesthetics, never forgets to clean his beautiful cobalt-blue nose before going to bed (detaching it with ease from his face) and rinsing his eyes (placing them in an original eye-socket holder). Delightful.

In short, there are (and abound) excellent alternatives to the prevailing goodness of fairy tales: if you wish to enjoy a slightly "adult" flavored cartoon, repugnant paradises (including fiscal ones) and royal marriages, here is an unusual appetizer before delving into the infernal dystopia of Cartman & associates.