Text Smash #1: Kick Butt, Big Guy!

The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot (Dark Horse, 1995) / The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot Fox Kids, 1999)

This post is about two kinds of ideology in two versions of a text. The first of these texts is The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot, a comic book first published in 1995 that was written by Frank Miller (of Sin City and The Dark Knight fame) and drawn by Geoff Darrow. In the comic, which spanned two issues, a gigantic monster begins destroying Tokyo and turning its inhabitants into smaller monsters. The Japanese government has a robot, which looks a bit like Jimmy Neutron and which talks like a character on Leave it to Beaver, which it hopes can defeat the monster. However, when Rusty the Boy Robot fails, Japan has to ask the United States – and more specifically, its giant weaponized mech suit, the Big Guy – for help. Despite the fact that The Big Guy and Rusty is usually positioned as a satire, or even as a tribute to the Japanese monster movie genre, I felt strongly immediately after reading this comic that it isn't a satire at all, or any kind of loving tribute tribute – rather, I see its subversion of key tropes of the Japanese monster movie genre as only serving to enforce an ideology of American exceptionalism and Japanese subservience.

The second text I will examine is the animated TV adaptation of The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot, which aired on Fox Kids for two seasons starting in 1999 and starred Pamela Adlon, R. Lee Ermey, M. Emmet Walsh, and Milton from Office Space. I will only be discussing the first two episodes of the show today, but in those episodes alone, we can see how changes made in the story and the extension of the narrative beyond the ending point of the comic serve to alter the ideology as well as the plot.

I’ve already kind of given it away, but does a giant dinosaur-like monster destroying the streets of Tokyo sound familiar to anyone?

Godzilla is probably the most iconic Japanese monster movie, and Rusty the Boy Robot is generally seen as playing around with that tradition in an ironic or satirical way. For example, reviews of the comic call it “tongue in cheek,” “campy,” and “an homage that slyly crosses over into satire.” However, while the comic is clearly engaging with tropes of the Japanese monster movie genre, there are some very important ideological differences between a movie like Godzilla and The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot.

In 1987, Chon Noriega published an excellent article in Cinema Journal defining the kind of Japanese monster movie exemplified by Godzilla, which was released in 1954, and laying out the ways that that kind of monster movie differs from those being made in the United States around the same time. Noriega writes that “[a]s the cold war developed, American monster films reflected... [an] inability to identify with the Other,” and that the “American monster films of the fifties are notable for their support of the bomb and cold war attitudes” (66).

For example, in The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, from 1953, a dinosaur freed from ice by a nuclear explosion menaces New York City before being defeated by a nuclear missile to the face. For Noriega, the “message is clear: nuclear weapons can solve the problems and anxieties they create” (66). However, “in order to provide such a resolution, the real site of United States nuclear testing is displaced” from Nevada or, say, the ocean near Japan, and “onto the more politically distant and isolated Arctic” (Noriega 66). Noriega also notes that “[t]he complete Otherness of these monsters is emphasized by their impersonal names,” like Them and It. In American monster movies, “[t]he monsters are hated, feared, and eventually destroyed through force, often a variation of the technology that created them” (Noriega 67), but there is no irony in their destruction. In fact, as Noriega argues, these radioactive monsters have been constructed precisely to allow for their radioactive destruction, all free from any kind of cognitive dissonance:

[T]he monster’s autonomy and threat shifts responsibility from American science onto the monster itself. The films effectively destroy any causal relationship, thereby constructing the monster as complete Other. The Americans in the film, freed from implication in the monster’s threat, can now use nuclear or other force to destroy it. (67)

In Japan, by contrast, “the Japanese sympathize with the... monsters” (Noriega 67). As with Godzilla, the film which started the Japanese monster movie tradition, “[u]nlike American monsters, Japanese monsters have personalities, legends, and names” (Noriega 67). Susan J. Napier writes that “[i]n Godzilla’s version of secure horror, the forces of destruction come from outside and are vanquished” (333). However, this is not simply a case of moving the nuclear threat to a distant location, as in American monster movies, because in Japan’s case, the nuclear threat really does come from outside. As Noriega writes, “In Godzilla films, it is the United States that exists as Other” (64); the Godzilla series “transfers onto... [the monster] the role of the United States in order to symbolically re-enact a problematic United States-Japan relationship that includes atomic war, occupation, and thermonuclear tests” (68). While in American monster movies, the nuclear threat is removed to distant locations so it can be reassuringly destroyed by American military might, in Japanese monster movies “it is American science that brings forth the monster... [and] it is Japanese science... that ultimately saves the world” (Napier 331). Films like Godzilla are shaped by the power dynamic between the United States and Japan. “After the United States dropped two atomic bombs on Japan in 1945, an essentially American military occupation force dismantled and rebuilt the Japanese family and society in such a way as to ensure that Japan could never again become a military threat to the Allies” (Noriega 65). Godzilla “demonizes American nuclear science in an obvious reference to the atomic tragedies of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.... [but] it allows for the traditional happy ending... by allowing ‘good’ Japanese science to triumph against the evil monster” (Napier 331-332).

So, how does The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot engage not only with the tropes of the monster movie, but the political ideology it contains? By setting the story in Tokyo, Miller specifically invokes Godzilla. As we have already seen, the ideology of the Japanese monster movie is very different from the American. However, what we see in The Big Guy is much more akin to the American ideology than the Japanese one. For one thing, the nameless monster of The Big Guy is created by the Japanese.

If, as Napier writes, the “secure horror” of Godzilla depends on the monster coming from outside and being vanquished from within, what we get in The Big Guy is insecure horror, where the monster is created on the inside. To continue with Napier’s argument, in the Japanese monster movie the “forces of destruction” must then be defeated from within. In The Big Guy, the Japanese military is completely ineffectual.

At one point, a Japanese helicopter acts as a kamikaze as the pilot says things like “Our lives mean nothing!” and “If we can stop this demon – for our families – for our nation!” Here, Miller gives us a picture of Japanese military power as impotent, the pilots’ sacrifice for the good of the group portrayed as a futile gesture. The Japanese have a secret weapon – the worryingly named “Rusty,” a robot who looks like a little boy (or Little Boy - I’m not even going to get into that) and speaks in gung-ho Americanisms...

...that ring hollow when it is easily swatted aside by the monster. Not only is the monster not defeated from within, but Japan’s failure is portrayed in an almost comically overwrought way.

For a robot, Rusty takes his defeat pretty hard, saying that “They never should have built me! And I’m sorry they ever did! I’m just a waste of parts and money! A failure! A crummy little hunk of junk! That’s all I am!” As the monster’s giant foot steps on him, Rusty says, “I’m just not big enough.” Luckily for Japan, they can beg for help from the United States. The Big Guy, a huge weaponized mech suit worn by an unnamed and unseen pilot, does battle with the monster while saying things like “For God and country – for every baby who’s ever gonna cut a tooth and every kid who’s ever gonna study hard and get a good job... I’m going in!!”

The monster’s biggest threat to the Big Guy is erasing his individuality – pulling him under its spell and turning him into one of the many small monsters now populating Tokyo. The Big Guy tricks the monster by echoing the same sentiments expressed by the Japanese pilot and Rusty: “I threw everything I had at you – but it was nothing! Nothing! My cause is hopeless!” Miller invokes another stereotype of the Japanese when he has the Big Guy say, “Nothing I can do – but beg you to forgive me! ...Allow me the honor of presenting you with one final, humble offering.” Ultimately, by pretending to weakly surrender, the Big Guy gains the upper hand, and the narration tells us that the Japanese “will teach their young to be strong and brave by telling of the hero who stared the Devil in the eye” – in other words, the Big Guy converts Japan from a collectivist to an individualist society.

It really is, as noted by Comics Alliance, “so obvious, so embarrassingly shaky and superficial a thing, that there are those who'd argue the comic was satire.” But all of this over-the-top action and retro propagandizing serves no subversive message. At no point does the story indicate that the Big Guy isn’t serious about his message, and in the end, Rusty watches from the sidelines as the Big Guy destroys the monster, and is ultimately given to the Big Guy as an unwanted gift by a grateful Japanese government. The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot does subvert the tropes of Godzilla, but it does so in the name of American power. It’s an American monster movie – a nameless monster emerges far from the United States...

...because of bad Japanese science and is vanquished by American military might, exploding in an atomic mushroom cloud:

By setting the story in Japan, by making Japanese science the cause of the destruction, and by invoking specific images and tropes of the Japanese monster movie genre, Miller and Darrow are not creating a satire, which is usually seen as lampooning the hegemonic structure. They are imposing that hegemony onto a tradition developed to give Japan a voice to process atomic fear in the wake of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and silencing that voice in the process.

As we’ve seen, the comic book of The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot is not exactly politically or ideologically neutral. But what happens to the ideology of the comic when it is adapted into a new medium, for a new audience? That’s exactly what happened in 1999, when the animated series The Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot premiered on Fox Kids. A promo for the show introduced the character of Rusty, stating that “having a little kid in charge of saving the world can lead to a few problems. So now, Rusty has a new teacher to show him the ropes, and Big Guy just got a new partner.” The animated series shifts the setting of the story from Tokyo to “New Tronic City” (get it?Neutronic? Get it?), a generic American city. The show’s first episode is directly adapted from the comic book, but the setting change alone completely alters the ideological thrust of the story. If Rusty and the Big Guy are both weapons of the same government, The Big Guy can no longer call upon the Japanese monster movie tradition, or the atomic history of the Japanese and American political relationship, to lend it any kind of ideological momentum.

Of course, that doesn’t mean the show has no ideology! If that quote from the promo didn’t already clue you in, the story becomes not a narrative of American military dominance over Japan, but one of the creation of a productive citizen in American society – also known as neoliberalism. Now, neoliberalism can be a slippery term, so I’ll take a couple minutes here to define that term as I’m applying it to this text. Susan Koshy writes that neoliberalism is “the reconceptualization of labor from a fixed and abstract entity to a set of attributes and skills that enable an individual to earn an income over a lifetime” (345). In other words, labor isn’t something you do, it’s something you are. Neoliberalism sees “the worker... [as] an improvable ‘ability-machine’” (345) which serves the state, and this “understanding of human abilities as sources of potential income redefines child-rearing by treating a broader range of activities of care and cultivation... as potential ‘investments’ in the human capital of children” (345), an idea Koshy summarizes as a “revaluation of all aspects of family life through their capacity to form human capital” (345). The importance of child-rearing to the success of neoliberalism is key to our discussion of The Big Guy animated series for two reasons: first, Rusty is a robot, but he is also a little boy, with a little boy voice and a little boy’s understanding of the world; and second, because the show aired on Fox Kids – unlike with the violent, gory source material, children were the show’s target audience. As Koshy writes, “[w]ithin a neoliberal order, in which the wealth of nations has come to be measured by their human capital rather than just their physical capital, education... is widely seen as they key to success and economic dominance” (347). The Big Guy is a story of Rusty’s education at the hands of the Big Guy, and it also educates its young viewers on “correct” social values.

The comic already makes some gestures towards this mission – the Big Guy’s invocation of “every kid who’s ever gonna study hard and get a good job,” or Rusty’s final plea to the Big Guy, “I’ll prove myself to you, Big Guy! You’ll see!” – but the show is much more explicit about it. The theme song describes Rusty as “pretty darn good, but he needs help... The boy robot lives his dream, to be a legend in history, the Big Guy and Rusty.” From its opening moments, the show situates the Big Guy as a national hero, serving and protecting the state from monsters, and as a worthy role model for Rusty, who is effective and productive only when emulating his hero.

Rusty’s creator, Quark Industries, also developed the Big Guy. In fact, Rusty will make the Big Guy “obsolete.” When the episode’s monster appears, Rusty is not able to stop it on his own. Rusty also idolizes the Big Guy, who has already been secretly retired by Quark Industries. Similar to the comic, the military is not able to defeat the monster, so Rusty is called in to help. Similar to the comic, Rusty tackles his mission with a generous helping of gee-whiz gusto, but is ultimately unsuccessful. However, in the show, Rusty is much more ambiguously robotic. The pilot of the Big Guy, who is a major character in the show, says that he doesn’t “understand sending a child to do a man’s work,” and Rusty responds by saying that “I’m gonna grow up to be just like” the Big Guy. Koshy’s “improvable ability-machine” has here been made literal – Rusty is a robot, but unlike real technology, he is not simply programmed with his abilities. He must be raised in a family – the Big Guy and a female scientist at Quark Industries – to learn how to effectively perform his work for the state, the figurative “investments” made by adults in their children becoming literal, as Rusty’s success or failure affects the fortunes of Quark Industries. While the comic ends with Rusty pleading pathetically with the Big Guy, who is flying off alone into the sunset, the show makes sure that Rusty is accepted by his idol, actually becoming a physical part of his body.

“Thank Henry Ford for standardized parts,” the Big Guy says. (I’ll leave the subtext of that line up to you.) The episode ends with an award ceremony for the Big Guy. When Rusty is disappointed that the Big Guy works alone, his mother-slash-inventor says, “Someday you’ll be the greatest too, Rusty. Remember, you’re still a boy.” Luckily for Rusty, the military orders the Big Guy’s pilot to take on “the kid” as a partner. As a general says, “There is no doubt in my military mind that he will become a better soldier under your expert guidance.” While the comic ends with the rejection of Japan’s technology by the individualist American robot, the show ends with Rusty sitting on the Big Guy’s shoulder as his “partner,” ready to learn to be a productive citizen.

The fact that the show continues for another twenty-five episodes is another important change. If the show had ended here, we would still have a strong neoliberal message. But the show continues, cementing the emphasis on the teacher-student relationship between the Big Guy and Rusty as they battle a series of monsters. Rusty says early in episode two that “the only way I’m going to be a good sidekick is if I spend more time with him and learn all his moves.” When he gets a call to help the Big Guy, his mom warns him to be careful. He responds, “Don’t need to! Megaton of punishment!” Unsurprisingly, Rusty chafes at the constraints of being a student, and ultimately learns the valuable lesson that he doesn’t know more than the adults around him, and he should trust them instead of trying to strike out on his own. When he assumes there is a plan to throw him in the grinder, a machine that destroys robots and finally confronts the Big Guy, the Big Guy tells him, “No one wants to grind you. We’re trying to save you!” When the episode’s villain reappears, Rusty sacrifices himself to save the Big Guy, who says, “Hold on, son. We’re going to get you to a doctor.” At the end of the show, his life force returned, Rusty again sits on the Big Guy’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I doubted you... for one minute!” he says.

Koshy writes that the “revaluation of all aspects of family life through their capacity to form human capital” in the neoliberal order “fundamentally transforms ideas of inheritance and filiality: ...[educated families’] problem is not so much to transmit to their children an inheritance in the classical sense of the term, as the transmission of this other element, human capital, which also links the generations to each other but in a completely different way” (345). The Big Guy, as a suit piloted by a man, one who is retired and then un-retired in the show’s first episode, highlights the fact that protecting the United States is human labor. The Big Guy is then called upon to transmit his “set of attributes and skills” to a student, protégé, and son in the form of Rusty. The investment of attributes and skills in Rusty will allow him to become a productive citizen who can then take over the Big Guy’s role in the future, a goal which fits neatly with “neoliberal notions of ‘productive citizenship’ defined as ‘those who can contribute to their nation’s advancement in the global political economy’” (Koshy 346-347). In other words, the neoliberal ideology of the animated series tells the story of a young robot who is being given the skills to someday impose the political ideology of the comic book.

One could argue that neither of these texts are very culturally important. The comic is more renowned, even among its fans, for Darrow’s art than for Miller’s story, while the TV show is barely remembered by anyone (and I do not recommend it). So why bother writing about them at all?

First of all, because it’s worthwhile to remember that ideologies are everywhere – even in media that seems like fluff – and that the more deeply buried an ideology is, the more dangerous it can be. Secondly, I think that Miller’s comic, and to a lesser extant the animated adaptation of it, is a good cautionary tale about the slipperiness of satire. It’s easy to label something as satire or parody, but just as easy to slip a deadly serious message into that “satire.” Satire and parody are two of our most effective tools against repression, prejudice, and hate, and thus is one of the most coveted channels for that same hate. (Exhibit A: memes.)

A "meme" (I guess) from r/The_Donald.

Finally, I wanted to examine these two versions of the Big Guy text because I think it’s fascinating to see how the shift from comics to animation, and the shift between the assumed demographics for those different mediums, completely alters the ideology of a story that remains, on the macro level, pretty much the same. In a media landscape increasingly populated by adaptation and the development of intellectual property – including a highly successful series of movies, based on comics, which features, among others, an ultra-patriotic throwback American hero and a guy in a giant mech suit – I think it’s worth thinking about how hard to pin down ideology really is.

Works Cited:

“Big Guy & Rusty The Boy Robot | Promo | 1999 | Fox Kids.” YouTube, uploaded by Analog Memories, 10 April 2018, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWgwPg4XB1U.

Koshy, Susan. “Neoliberal Family Matters.” American Literary History, 25, pp. 344-380 (2013).

Noriega, Chon. “Godzilla and the Japanese Nightmare: When ‘Them!’ is U.S.” Cinema Journal, 27, pp. 63-77 (1987).

Napier, Susan J. “Panic Sites: The Japanese Imagination of Disaster from Godzilla to Akira.” The Journal of Japanese Studies, 19, pp. 327-351 (1993).