I Think I Have This Thing...

... where I need everyone to think I'm the greatest. And I'm done with it.

Written from my $75 Facebook marketplace couch. - Los Angeles, California

I love stop-motion claymation films. Maybe because I have an affinity for the eerie and unsettling, which claymation as an art tends to be, even if the storyline isn’t. I’m of the opinion that even the most wholesome of claymation (think Wallace & Gromit) is somewhat creepy in their creation. Tiny figurines playing out pieced together micro movements tend to be that way.

Claymation in general is an extremely laborious art form with an expectedly short history. Coraline took four years to film, which makes sense when you consider that ONE SECOND is comprised of TWENTY-FOUR FRAMES. Individual frames. I think it goes without saying that I am overwhelmingly grateful to the artists who give their time and genius so that we can have masterpieces like Coraline.

Anyway, here are my claymation/stop-motion All-Times, in no particular order, which you also likely know and love:

1. Fantastic Mr. Fox

2. Coraline

3. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

   1. which is technically “animagic,” in which the figurines are made of wood and manipulated with similar “claymation” tactics.

      1. Very cool + very creepy = wonderful childhood Christmas movie.

4. Frankenweenie

All of these movies are delightful and detailed and thoughtfully made. In spite of that, once upon a time none of them could compete with Coraline. A lonely, bored child, waiting for something to happen in her world. She wants attention! She wants excitement! She wants someone to recognize her child genius and realize that she’s probably the coolest person who was ever born. She’s the ultimate middle-child (despite being an only child). And when the attention she finally receives is her worst nightmare wrapped in a shiny button box, she crawls on home to realize her parents are actually pretty cool. And her neighbors are interesting and flawed in a fun and eccentric way. And there are BANANA SLUGS in the movie. Come on. Coraline is my girl for life.

But!

Last week I rewatched Fantastic Mr. Fox because I missed my sister. We used to watch it together every August, when the summer had been a little too hot for a little too long. Once we even made Mrs. Bean’s Ginger Apple Snaps. Nonetheless, it’s that time of year and while my sister is drowning in snow in Bozeman, I’m in LA swimming in my own sweat.

On this particular rewatch, I was thinking a lot about Mr. Fox’s monologue to his wife in the underground after he has ruined the lives of most of his community for the foreseeable future.

He says:

I think I have this thing where I need everybody to think I'm the greatest... the quote-unquote fantastic Mr. Fox. And if they aren't completely knocked-out and dazzled, and kind of intimidated by me, then... I don't feel good about myself.

In this moment of extreme vulnerability, Mr. Fox is presenting this idea of creating an identity and measuring yourself not by how well you live up to it, but by closely you are perceived to it. It’s not “I want to be great!” it’s “I want everyone to think I’m great!”

I don’t think I ever realized that’s how I feel deep down, maybe because it’s unpleasant to go digging like that. I think it’s true that a lot of my life I’ve been more concerned with the general public’s ideas about my personhood than my actual integrity and identity. I wasn’t so much a perfectionist as someone wanting to radiate perfection. And I don’t think this is particularly unique - if anything, I’d argue that nearly everyone has felt this way, even if it was fleeting. There’s a reason why people LOVE this monologue.

When I was younger, I thought I was the greatest and no one knew, like Ms. Coraline. And then one day I figured out that I know *nothing* (which is really exciting, actually, if you allow yourself to see it that way). Now I’m left with all my little girl paranoia and am wildly afraid of anyone finding out - as if they don’t already know. The point is - I don’t want to be great anymore. I don’t feel great. Being the greatest should not be of any interest to me because I literally cannot achieve it. That feels good to say.

So can I pull off a huge scheme in which everyone thinks I’m the greatest, Mr. Fox style? Also no. Everyone around me understands that I am just human, whether a good or a bad one. There is no scheming to be done.

Okay… but will I continue to commit my being to achieve this unachievable greatness? Probably, but hopefully not for much longer.

Because at my core, I am too similar to Mr. Fox. I love my people. I want my people to know I love them. I want to be admired. I want to be the problem solver. I want to theoretically lead my community towards their imminent demise and then scheme my way out of it in such a grand way that I become the hero instead of the bad guy (maybe I really should’ve become a politician?). And one can’t forget - we both have the words of affirmation love language, as seen in the quote below from Roald Dahl’s original book:

‘Your father is a fantastic fox.’ Mr. Fox looked at his wife and she smiled. He loved her more than ever when she said things like that.

All of this is to say, Fantastic Mr. Fox has been scratching an itch I took into adulthood in a way that Coraline no longer can. And after admitting that I don’t want to participate in this one-man competition for a prize I can’t win, I feel lighter. Consider this my next act. Maybe after intermission I’ll allow myself to be me. That sounds really nice.

Happy Halloween, my friends. It was only fitting to share my love for creepy claymation and something that haunts me on this particularly frightening day. Thanks for listening to figure myself out time and time again. I love you, too.

P.S. send more claymation recs.