by Nelson
Clone High was something special. A high school drama series parody is one thing, but a high school drama series parody that’s also a satirical look at some of history’s most recognizable names complete with a paper-pirate-hat-wearing high school principal/supervillain and an episode that features a Tommy-inspired rock opera? Well that makes for one of my all-time favorite cartoons that has ever existed in the entire universe.
The show revolves around life, love, and laughs at a high school populated by clones of historical figures like Catherine the Great (or “Catherine the So-So” according to JFK), George Washington Carver, and Julius Caesar. Elvis Presley even appears in the form of the Elvis Twins; one’s healthy, and one has a daily lunch of nine fried peanut butter banana sandwiches and a thermos full of tranquilizers. The main character is the teenaged clone of Abraham Lincoln. He’s best friends with Gandhi, and, instead of girls and rock bands, his bedroom is decorated by posters of his “clone father.” Abe dreams of the day Cleopatra notices that his sideburns grew longer over the summer, but his infatuation with Cleo leaves him oblivious to Joan of Arc’s crush. It also puts him in direct conflict with Cleo’s on-again/off-again boyfriend, JFK – providing the Presidential Dream Match the whole world has waited to see.
Abe tries, and typically fails, to live up to “the real” Abraham Lincoln, but Gandhi caves under the pressure and, instead, becomes a “nonstop party animal,” and Joan is an angsty goth girl who makes short arthouse movies. JFK’s primary interest in the vain, image-obsessed Cleo is the fact she’s numbers one and two on his “list of 150 women to bang this year.” While a lot of the humor stems from the ironic paths puberty leads the clone kids down, what gives the show staying power are gags like Gandhi hearing “beards” instead of “beer” and wistfully fantasizing about a fake-beard-wearing party” and Kennedy and Lincoln agreeing to settle their rivalry with a midnight race on Dead Man’s Slick Mountain Cliff Road.
It aired twenty years ago, so some aspects of the show don’t quite hold up today. And by “some aspects,” I’m referring specifically to the fact that Marilyn Manson has a guest appearance that culminates with a song about the Food Pyramid in the second episode. I’m sort of surprised Paramount+ didn’t edit that out, but, then again, the Food Pyramid number is funny and educational. It dually aired on Teletoon in Canada and MTV in America. Thanks to MTV’s exposure, the show found itself embroiled in controversy when it prompted hundreds of Buddhists to go on a hunger strike in reaction to Gandhi’s love of shoving fries up his nose.
Clone High was a show doomed to offend someone, potentially a bunch of someones, and that’s a shame because I was absolutely enthralled with it. I wasn’t just amused. Dammit, I wanted Abe to be happy, and, at the same time, I hated him for all he put poor Joan through. I guess this is how some people felt about stuff like Dawson’s Creek, but who cares if Dawson and Joey get together when you’re watching John F. Kennedy be raised by two gay foster dads and Gandhi being excommunicated from The Solid Gandhi Dancers when his ADD diagnosis becomes public and the mutated clone of Marie Curie fears that he won’t be able to pay attention to the dance moves?
Every episode is a “very special episode,” and its “very special” status is well earned. We see the characters learn to cope with grief when Ponce de León – a beloved friend to everyone who has conveniently been off-camera until this ep – dies, and Joan of Arc throws on a fake mustache to join the basketball team to prove that girls can play basketball just as well as boys. Not only were there love triangles, identity struggles, and a raisin-smoking epidemic that mercilessly ripped through the halls of Clone High and divided the town, but the series boasted an array of guest stars that included Michael J Fox as Gandhi’s kidney and Tom Green as an advocate for ADD awareness. Mandy Moore even shows up in the holiday special to teach Joan the true meaning of Snowflake Day – the annual non-religion-specific holiday.
The real gem of Clone High is Principal Cinnamon J. Scudworth. Every minute he’s on the screen is sheer comedic gold – whether he’s raving about his years-long rivalry with John Stamos, banishing students to his Death Maze, or hosting a dinner party for the Secret Board of Shadowy Figures. While the Board intends to use the clones to build an unstoppable Historical Army, Scudworth plots to steal them away to create Cloney Island – an amusement park he was inspired to create after watching Jurassic Park 3. Scudworth’s straight man is a wise but monotonous robot butler named Mr. Butlertron. Mr. B. calls everyone “Wesley” for undisclosed reasons and may or may not harness the powers of a magical cardigan sweater vest to offer students guidance and save his employer before his schemes blow up in his face. Cinnamon and Mr. B. get fun subplots in almost every episode, and I’ve repeatedly used the demented principal’s “When life gives you lemons, you clone those lemons, and you make super lemons” mantra to vex advice seekers.
It’s tragic that this cartoon was so short-lived, but it had a lot working against it. It debuted during a time when MTV premiered a show one day only to cancel it the next, and it left viewers with an all you can eat “I’m Offended!” Buffet. If Gandhi didn’t ruffle your feathers, then you’ve also got stuff like Jesús Cristo being prone to nail gun accidents during Shop Class. But learning that standardized testing is really just a means of providing fuel for a world conquering robot – Scangrade the Magnificent – who is powered by the lead from Number 2 pencils? A revelation like that is something that causes an illogical world to make just a little more sense. And did I mention the fact that an entire episode is a tribute to The Who’s Tommy that sees JFK break his leg and sing “Watch me, hold me, sign my cast for me, wheel me”? It’s criminal that Clone High wasn’t popular enough for me to have that soundtrack on vinyl. Because it’s amazing.
Today, Clone High is a cult classic. The fact that it’s managed to find new, more appreciative audiences over the years is fantastic and, according to my recent ‘net research that yielded a whole lot more results for the show than it used to (including a Wiki!), it’s getting a revival. I’m not sure how on-board the revival train I am. I’ve got enough mixed feelings on the rumored return of King of the Hill, but I suppose that Clone High has a relatively solid shot of thriving on a streaming network. To my eyes, the humor has held up well enough for me to revisit the series every few years, and I’m never disappointed. The truth is that I could watch JFK teaching Gandhi how to be a Kennedy on a loop for all eternity, and I’d be content.
Doubtfire 