It’s a Disney cliché: The villain, finally defeated by the virtuous hero, falls to his or her death from a conveniently placed cliff/waterfall/castle buttress and disappears into the mists before we see the body hit the ground. It’s a convenient, goreless way to dispose of a character who has served their narrative purpose and now needs to meet justice. Parents are squeamish about exposing their kids to violence, and it’s understandable. That’s why I was a little shocked when I started watching Clone Wars—a Cartoon Network show set in the Star Wars universe between Episodes Two and Three. When characters die on this show, they don’t fall blissfully out of sight—they get stabbed through the freaking chest with a lightsaber!Clone Wars has the highest body count of any children’s program I’ve ever seen, both for villains and heroes. These victims are characters with names, personalities, and more than ten minutes of screen time. And I think it’s fantastic.
The narrative crux of Clone Wars is right there in the title. This show may be written for children, but it is still about characters who are at war. To show a war without casualties would be a lie—even though many other shows (for children and adults) find that lie to be acceptable. It would be so easy for Clone Wars to take this route. Most of the battles are waged by droids and helmeted clones. Who cares if they kick the bucket, right?
Except that the writers go out of their way to depict each clone as an individual, with unique aspirations and motivations. One of the first season’s strongest episodes, “Rookies,” follows a team of clones’ first battle with the Separatists. These clones (Fives, Heavy, Echo, and Cutup—every soldier has a Battlestar Galactica-like call sign) are stationed on a remote, but key Republic planet, and are itching to see some action. Viewers experience the quirky military culture of their unit (The slightly obscured pin-up girls were my favorite). The comradery earned as they overcome a surprise invasion together. And finally the heart-breaking resignation as the team leaves one of their own behind to manually detonate the captured Republic base. There were a few sniffles on the Schmidtfer futon by the end of this episode.I don’t mean to make it sound like Clone Wars is the children’s equivalent of The Gulag Archipelago. It has its share of light moments, and plenty of clunky dialogue and hammy acting. And those inspirational quotes in the cold open are pretty terrible. But at its heart, Clone Wars is a show about the nature of war, and how different characters react to opposition. From pacifist lemurs to vindictive cyborgs and everything in between, an entire spectrum of philosophies are given thoughtful consideration in various episodes. How can the Jedi call themselves “peacekeepers” when they are the vanguard of a galaxy-wide war? What can be considered an “acceptable loss” when human lives are concerned? Why is Jar-Jar featured in more than one episode? Okay, so that last atrocity probably isn’t an intentional theme… But Clone Wars is willing to ask some pretty big questions.
In criticism of children’s entertainment, much has been made about how sanitized fairy tales have become from their brutally violent origins. It seems parents used to be a bit less protective of their innocent young ones in days past. Now, I’m not suggesting a return to children’s stories with self-performed amputations and cannibalism. But I do think Clone Wars’ grave examination of violence in wartime is not something parents should shy away from. Maybe if we saw the Evil Queen hit the ground we’d better understand the price of Snow White’s happily ever after.
Episodes to Watch: Cloak of Darkness, Lair of Grievous
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