‘SpongeBob SquarePants’: A Childhood Icon Revisited
The timeless appeal of the famed children’s TV show
It’s a story my mom still tells often: the story of my first tantrum. I was only four years old when it happened and it was SpongeBob SquarePants that was the undeniable, warm-faced aggressor. On that bright fall day, “SPUUNGBOOOBBB! SPUUUUNGBOB!” rang through the house with a high-pitched and cacophonous cry as I sobbed and wailed violently.
As my parents both exchanged concerned looks, eyebrows both dented in with confusion, the two were powerless to help.
“SPUUUNGBOB!!!”
“What is he saying!?” my mom asked, her eyebrows continuing their steady migration to diametric poles of befuddlement.
“I’m — I’m not sure,” replied my dad, shrugging his shoulders. “What do you think he wants?”
“SPUUUNGBOB!!! SPUUNGBAAAHHB!!!”
My parents were both attentive, but they’d certainly left me in a room with Nickelodeon on once or twice on their more worn out days. And on one of those fateful days, I had discovered the square-pantsed sponge that would color my childhood.
As a child, it’s sometimes difficult to differentiate between TV shows. The critical eye we all sharpen through watching movies isn’t established in our earliest years. I could hardly distinguish Pinocchio from Snow White, The Jungle Book, or Toy Story as far as quality was concerned. They were each cassette tapes put into the TV with an interchangeable roulette of delight. That the movies were each from entirely different generations was miles above my head.
I could begin growing a fondness for certain characters, colors, and environments, but there was simply no awareness of a thing like directors, writers, or any of those long lists of names that seemed to peskily worm their way into everything I watched. I had an idea of some of my favorite shows, but no real appreciation of what made each different and enthralling.
To watch certain cartoons and TV shows as an adult can sometimes shine a new light on those subtleties we may have missed. With the best children’s shows, they’ll be so layered and well-written that only an adult will be able to fully appreciate some of the references and narrative depth.
A child on the other hand, might not notice how strange and special it is for a talking snail in SpongeBob SquarePants to profess that “In dreams, one is not tethered by earthly limitations…”
When SpongeBob — in the midst of a short-lived proletariat streak — adamantly declares that “I will dismantle this oppressive establishment board by board! I will saw the tables of tyranny in half. Gnaw at the ankles of big business!” it travels well over the head of 90% of viewers. But in many cases, it was what provided me with my introductions to many words that stood well outside the range of the average child’s vocabulary.
Perhaps one of SpongeBob’s greatest achievements is that it could say things like “The inner-machinations of my mind are an enigma,” and “We’re just a clever visual metaphor used to personify the abstract concept of thought” without ever alienating the children watching it. It was the rare children’s show that didn’t stupefy its audience, even if it’s sometimes been accused of giving it ADD.
Created by former marine biologist Stephen Hillenburg, and lovingly characterized by the voices of Tom Kenny, Bill Fabergakke, Clancy Brown, Carolyn Lawrence, and Rodger Bumpass, it was a lively underwater world that defined a generation before the end of even its second season.
Early SpongeBob SquarePants cultivated a zany, frenetic, and aquatic atmosphere with its distinctively charming soundtrack. From the whimsical and fast-paced, to the iconic and surprisingly soulful, I’m a little ashamed just how many of those melodies may be forever engrained in my mind. From the “F.U.N. Song,” “That’s What Friends Do,” “Sweet Victory,” and “This Grill Is Not a Home,” to “Loop de Loop,” and “Ocean Man,” the latter two of which were both performed by the band Ween, it offered a variety of ear worms still with me to this day and delivered far more memorable music than was ever truly demanded.
Composers like Derek Drymon and Mark Harrison artfully and humorously blended elements that ranged from sea shanties to Hawaiian slack-key guitar instrumentals, creating an auditory landscape that’s as eclectic and imaginative as the world of Bikini Bottom itself.
For those who’ve never seen it, they likely just think of SpongeBob SquarePants as a stereotypical, thoughtless kids’ show. But there’s a reason why it’s celebrated such an enduring career on Nickelodeon. Beginning all the way back in 1999, it’s survived nearly 25 years in the television limelight; and yet, SpongeBob still hasn’t gotten his boating license. In addition to its decades long tenure on TV, it’s even branched off into two separate spin-offs and three feature-length films.
Though many will argue it hasn’t retained much of the soul that originally made the show great, the first three seasons have achieved such a legacy status that fans are still quoting it well into their 30s. As a 90s kid, I’m not sure I can think of a single other show so relentlessly requoted. The life it’s lived within the world of memes is only further proof of its persevering impact.
But to move beyond the spectacular quality of its writing, it’s not always easy to point toward what made it so utterly iconic back in those infantile stages. Its characters are certainly unforgettable, and though many can’t name the three branches of government in the United States, there are few who couldn’t still tell you who lives in a pineapple under the sea.
Part of the broad and lasting appeal of SpongeBob SquarePants’ early days lies in its abounding double meanings. Scenes can be watched in one way as a child, and another way entirely as an adult. But likely nowhere better embodied is this distinction than in the difference between the titular character and Squidward Tentacles. Children can relate to the wide-eyed optimism of the child-like sponge as he play-pretends his way through an adult world as an underappreciated fry cook. Adults can relate to the world weary Squidward who’s simply tired of SpongeBob’s constant shenanigans and puerile antics.
It’s in the divergent lenses through which the show can be appreciated that it excels most. If The Sixth Sense were a happy children’s show, it would be the first three seasons of SpongeBob SquarePants — polar opposites that both benefit similarly from a revisit. And just as The Sixth Sense — coincidentally released the same year as the famed children’s show — is largely considered the climax of director M. Night Shymalan’s career, the animated tale of the laughing sponge never managed to soar above the heights of those first few seasons. Once creator Stephen Hillenburg departed, it began to suffer in many regards from a crisis of identity.
But within those first few seasons is a shocking amount of material that even an adult can enjoy. It certainly helps if the show was as much a part of your childhood as it was mine, but there’s an undeniable novelty to the underwater world of Bikini Bottom. There’s a magic to that nuclear waste site and all the mutants that swim (walk?) through the hallowed aftermath. There’s an inherent creativity to the world that — even approaching my 30s — provides a delightful little escape. No holiday season is complete without an obligatory rewatch of the SpongeBob Christmas Special, and no year is fulfilled without a revisit of the magnetic and nostalgic bliss of the show’s first few seasons.
...and then, after Hillenburg died of ALS, it went down further, despite having greater public exposure...