LESSONS FROM THE 90s, Memoir 4

Hello all!

I hope you’re all doing well this Wednesday. The weeks don’t feel the same any more. I’m noticing now (old man-itis, grumble-grumble) how my sense of time is changing from when I was young. Not that I never had a sense of time—being raised in a household descended from French-German work-ethic meant we were born with clocks near our hearts. It’s more like I understand the clock better. Instead of bouncing between the extremes of rushing and punctuality, I now have better work flow.

Maybe that’s from working at my own pace? …No, it’s a lot of things, like cutting out luxuries (Youtube), and especially, stop trying to pretend you can do everything in a given day. American business model and its insane perversion of time…Hum? Right, memory lane.

You may think to yourself, ‘how can a talking dinosaur man who quotes Shakespeare*, loves fighting, and has an impeccable sense of honor and who shoots laser beams from his eyes, be a child’s role model?’ And…I’d also be hard-pressed to see such a character like Dinobot be a role model. Perhaps not for children, but perhaps so for difficult, combative men.

[*Despite the time travel! And being an alien!]

I really do want to know the genius who wrote Dinobot’s character, and say thank you. Dinobot was the first hero* I saw die—when I was 6-8. I was young, and didn’t quite understand the struggles of Dinobot and his situation, nor the Shakespearean themes that our growly dinosaur man struggled with. I DO thank one Scott McNeil, the voice actor for Dinobot, for the performance of a lifetime.

[*Correction, I was 4 years old when I saw a heroic death onscreen. The 1997 classic Starship Troopers came out on Blockbuster, and my dad A) did not read the label to see it was rated-R and B) didn’t understand that you shouldn’t show a 4/5 year old a supposedly PG-13 movie—but by God, did it change my brain for the better!]

To explain, Dinobot was a warrior, through and through, who held to a kind of martial honor (one that our soft civilized world would be horrified at), and that was ‘fight only challenging fights’. Sure, he loved battle, glory, was very pushy, and didn’t know how to take a joke; and, he sometimes fell into the warrior’s trap of respecting only strength—but he never punched downwards.

He was disgusted by his fellow Predacons, who (being the bad guys) were sleezy, cowardly, power-hungry bullies and brutes, who liked hurting others for fun. It was this kind of self-indulgence that drove Dinobot away, for his warrior’s honor held him to—you know, a standard. And, it was one that, indirectly, kept Dinobot focused on self-mastery. It was to be a better, more glorious warrior, sure, but it kept him disciplined. …It did not help his bad temper.

After the crashing-landing in the first few episodes, and after the Cybertronians got their new animal forms (to survive on prehistoric Earth), Dinobot flipped sides from Predacon to Maximal. There, he made best friends—frienemies with Rattrap, the wisecracking infiltrator and saboteur. To say that was a thorn in the side of the rest of his teammates was an understatement—he had no patience for the young, inexperienced Cheetor (the scout and rookie), nor the wisdom of Rhinox, and he constantly challenged the leadership of Optimus. In part, it was because Dinobot was more accustomed to the direct, brute, straightforward methods of Predacon culture. Patient planning that covered all factors was more a Maximal thing.

I don’t recall him having that many valid points in the arguments, and his combativeness eventually caught up with him. If he was listened to, it was only to provide a counterpoint to Rhinox’s sage advice, or to highlight the tactical expertise of Optimus*. He tested everyone’s patience, especially since his argument was ‘Smash them good, right now!’. I wonder if his grating presence on the team subtly influenced group cohesion—everyone knew Dinobot was a loudmouth and they usually ignored his blowhard manner. They kept their cool. Unlike the Predacons, the Maximals never engaged in duels or intra-team fighting. The only one who did that was Dinobot, a former Predacon, and that was slapped out of him in an early episode.

[*Here, Optimus Primal was an exemplary example of a model field officer, not out of place for Star Fleet, and certainly living up to the integrity (though not moral fiber) of the OG Optimus Prime. He was a military officer with an edge, as there were times where he’d forget other considerations if they were not mission-relevant. My favorite line of his is ‘I never give an order I myself would not follow.’ Words to live by.]

The crux of Dinobot’s life was that he had a mid-life crisis in the middle of a war. Yes, the fighting dinosaur man got tired of fighting, and asked ‘what am I doing with my life?’ See, Dinobot is for sure an anti-hero*—strong, wild, unpredictable, unbeholden to no one but his personal honor/petty desires. His anti-heroism caught up to him! That almost never happens in any other show or story I’ve seen or read! His own team lost trust in him, for several reasons.

[*Somewhere around a Conan the Barbarian, or a Hercules and his 12 Labors.]

It was his double-crossing nature that broke the teams. Yes, the honor-bound warrior broke faith with friend and foe. Why? Dinobot’s tragedy was that he did not know his destiny and was afraid. I was too young to understand then, but Dinobot’s problem was a similar problem to many warriors and men* who live on the dangerous edge—he asked himself ‘Were my actions meaningful?’ Dinobot wanted to know, why. Why or what was he really fighting for? Was it worth it all? Dinobot was afraid, because—what was after the war? What was after the fight? How would he be judged when his time ended?

[*Other examples are Sir Antonius Bloch, of the film The Seventh Seal (1957), a Christian Crusader, and Spike Speigel, of the anime Cowboy Bebop (1998), a former criminal who turned bounty hunter.]

Now, factor in one of the more, ‘supernatural (?)’ elements—as much as it can be in a sci-fi show. That factor was the Golden Disks, a pair of not-quite Compact Discs that held true prophecies of the future. The plot of the show started when a new incarnation of Megatron stole the Golden Disks with his crew, and the Maximal crew pursued him to Earth. Much of the strategic back-and-forth in the conflict was based on the Golden Disks, either fighting over them or because Megatron was using their power of prophecy to (try to) make an unstoppable plan. Dinobot was aware of their power—being there at the theft—and his doubts grew to the point where he made a deal with Megatron to look into his future on the Golden Disks.

This of course meant he had to betray his new team, of much better friends. For above all, Dinobot was afraid of free will. Like a Shakespearean or Greek tragedy, Dinobot was afraid that his actions were pre-determined. He expressed shame at what he did as a Predacon (off-screen, before the story), and the virtues of the Maximals confused him. They confused him even more when, though now working for Megatron, he refused to kill his best friend Rattrap, and then Rattrap forgave Dinobot. Dinobot then rejoined the Maximal team (and Megatron would never trust Dinobot again).

The shame of his double-crossing, coupled with his unanswered questions about his fate, drove him to his final, ultimate episode, “Code of Hero”. Though forgiven, everyone on the Maximal side (include Rattrap) was on edge around him. His honor was doubly-besmirched, so much so, that, in a kid’s show, Dinobot contemplated suicide by self-impalement. (All while speaking Shakespeare.) He thought better of it, because then his shame would be complete, and so he resolved to amend his misdeeds.

Later, he spies Megatron performing an experiment with the Golden Disks. Megatron blows up a mountain, in the prehistoric past, and this action changed the prophecies written on the Disks! This changes the game, as Megatron realizes he can now ‘tweak’ the Golden Disks by changing events referenced on them. His overall goal (which he monologues about, loudly, for all to hear) is to change the Cybertronian war to result in a Predacon victory (Predacon, not Decepticon, because then he wouldn’t be in charge).

How to do that? Why, by killing a tribe of proto-humans living nearby, as their death would prevent humanity from allying with the Autobots/Maximals. With humanity allying with the Autobots, the Decepticons would lose the war. Megatron gathers his cronies to then begin slaughtering the proto-humans in the valley. Dinobot alerts his comrades, but is the only hero nearby.

‘The question that once haunted my being has been answered; The future is not fixed. My choices are my own. And yet, how ironic, for I now find that I have no choice at all… I am a warrior. Let the battle be joined.’

Now ensues a short yet perfect fight, where Dinobot takes down 4 Predacons in quick succession, beats another unconscious with his bare hands, and then proceeds to concuss Megatron with a stone-headed club. With his last ounce of strength, he destroys the Golden Disk and thwarts Megatron, who retreats as the Maximals converge on their position.

Yet his damage is too great. Dinobot gives his farewell (again, quothing the Bard):

‘Tell my tale to those who ask; tell it truly—the ill deeds along with the good, and let me be judged accordingly. The rest, is silence.’

And he dies, a hero, who fought to save the future.

My kind of role model.

…

More to follow!

[P.S. The proto-humans watched Dinobot fight, and one of them later picked up the stone club, to use as a tool and to fend off a predator. Destiny, perhaps?]