The Problem With Cartoon Conspiracy Theories

We're all rather familiar with the common notion of the conspiracy theory that comprises the postmodern consciousness, but there is another form that has surfaced in fiction and media. Conspiracy theories in these spheres propose that hidden concepts and messages have been interwoven in TV shows, movies, cartoons, and other media.

A significant one, for instance, is the theory that Stanley Kubrick subtly confessed to faking the moon landing in The Shining, since Danny was wearing an Apollo 11 shirt and Room 217 from the book was changed to Room 237, which some have suggested was because the Moon is roughly 237,000 miles away from Earth.

Other examples include the Winnie-the-Pooh characters embodying Christopher Robin's mental illnesses (i.e. Eeyore being depression and Piglet anxiety), the Fairly Oddparents being antidepressants, the Flintstones being the underclass of a futuristic society they share with the Jetsons, and so on. The Kubrick theory, however, correlates to extra-fictional conspiracies, and that comes with its own syllogisms. The problem I wish to address here involves these self-referential fan theories, particularly in cartoons.

The only way for these fan theories to be true is if the creators of the respective cartoons confirmed that the subliminal concepts called into question were in fact a part of the creative process. This does actually have precedence, as theories about Adventure Time being post-apocalyptic and the Krabby Patty formula including imitation crab meat were proven true. But there is such a thing as looking too deeply.

For instance, a popular internet theory that has been circulating for a few years now is one about Disney's 1992 Aladdin. The theory suggests that the film takes place in the distant future, and that all magic present in the film is advanced technology, such as the flying carpet being some sort of hovercraft. This all stems from the fact that the Genie, played by the iconic Robin Williams, said he has been asleep for 10,000 years and yet makes references to modern society and pop-culture with lights, tuxedos, and Schwarzenegger impressions. But these things may be more metatextual than anything else, such that they are more for our own benefit than the plot's.

What this theory overlooks, to elaborate, is what I'm calling the cartoon principle. The 10,000-year time span, for instance, should not be taken as some canonized time frame. It is, instead, a childish exaggeration, or at least ought to be perceived as one because that's how it is intended to be taken. For all we know, the Genie could have been imprisoned for 100 years. The point is, cartoons are, by their very nature, frivolous, and so literally cannot be taken seriously. Conflating cartoonish claims with hard fact is the product of an adult perception of a children's film, and is thereby a fallacy.

This fallacy, a form of experience bias, results when we reinterpret the lightheartedness of a cartoon as something more sinister -- a common tendency in postpubescent cynicism. We are replacing the childish notions of the cartoon with our experience as adults. Therefore, post-apocalypse, mental illness, death, and horror surface in our consciousness when we reject the whimsy of the cartoon, so in this sense, cartoons remain immortally entertaining, amidst the fallacy.

The cartoon principle (once more, that cartoons are ontologically nonserious) can be found again in the Peanuts cartoons, where Charlie Brown is depicted as a loser, continually picked on by his peers. From a mature perspective, Charlie Brown would likely suffer from severe depression as a result of his isolation, but in the reality of the cartoon, he is nothing more than a lovable outcast, which most children going to elementary and middle school can certainly relate to.

Even in the case of Pinky & The Brain, a cartoon following two mice plotting to take over the world (The Brain being a genius and Pink dimwitted), fans have theorized that Pinky is the real genius because he always "accidentally" foils The Brain's plans for world domination at the end of each episode by some means of tomfoolery. The problem again here is that such a theory challenges the cartoonish archetype of an intelligent character eternally annoyed by a ditzy one (i.e. Dexter and Dee Dee, Squidward and Spongebob). The humorous frivolity of this dynamic would be lost on this children's show if this theory were true.

The ultimate problem is that the adult lens is insufficient for evaluating cartoons. Placing our grown-up experience on children's animation corrupts the very nature of it, and so excessive darkness and over-intellectualizing cannot be the right optics with which we interpret children's shows and movies. This isn't to say fan theories for cartoons are always going to be wrong, but that to accurately formulate a theory, we should probably adopt the mindset of a child.

Is it ironic that I've taken the process of fan-theorizing this seriously?