'Emily of New Moon': An Old Promising Television Series Disrupts An Imaginative Romanticist Book Series

Twenty-one years ago, Emily of New Moon the television series debuted.

I came across the late 90's Emily of New Moon on a random Sunday morning and was quite surprised learning much later that this was an adaptation of noted author L. M. Montgomery. I have always appreciated Montgomery's well known Anne of Green Gables since discovering her around age sixteen (my mentor had gifted me a boxed set). This Emily character was brand new to me. And being a passionately enthralled writer in love with love and all its delicious facets, I have more in common with dreamy, starry-eyed orphan Emily than the cheerful, red-haired orphan Anne.

I recently completed reading the Emily of New Moon book trilogy (Emily of New Moon, Emily Climbs, and Emily's Quest) and binged the entire television series (over a single weekend no less). The television series strangely navigates away from the source material, seemingly dismissing Montgomery's beautiful, albeit magical prose around the end of season one.

Here are several reasons why the award-winning adaptation is severely flawed and has few saving graces:

Stern Aunt Elizabeth Murray (Susan Clark).

Number One: Aunt Elizabeth is killed off in the beginning of season two.

This glaring travesty partly happens due in part to portrayer Susan Clark leaving the role for personal reasons. A devout soul cannot help wishing that showrunner Marlene Matthews had simply recast the role. Aunt Elizabeth is the story's essential antagonist. From the beginning, Aunt Elizabeth opposes Emily's writing (and reading of novels). By the end, she eventually becomes a true champion, encouraging Emily to continue writing and read those whimsical stories to her. It is heartbreaking to not to get this incredible character journey depicted onscreen, to fully capture the moment Emily and Aunt Elizabeth no longer clash over Emily's undeniable destiny as a famous woman writer. In losing Aunt Elizabeth, the series lost an integral element that could not find itself in the absence of Montgomery's most crucial conflict.

Emily's love for Teddy blossoms wildly as her writing dreams soar in all three novels. Whereas in the show, Teddy (Shawn Roberts) professes his love to Emily (Martha Macissac) despite his mother being the catalyst wedging them apart. They have a long, endearing first kiss in the final season though in the books they do not.

Number Two: Teddy Kent is insipidly romantic to the point of sickening disbelievability.

While it is certainly true that in the book trilogy Teddy and Emily's love story trickles slower than molasses (endless simmering looks, terrible misunderstandings, and near marriages to others by both), the show itself turns Teddy into an incorrigible Romeo. He makes endless demands on Emily whilst also declaring his love so freely and concretely. The books paint their young yearning in clandestine tones, childhood friends growing older and closer, smoldering the reader with anticipation for their next meeting. Yet the show ostentatiously grabs hold, taking away what makes them so utterly profound and almost forbidden.

For example, Blair Water is under a severe quarantine. Teddy shows up out of nowhere to tell Emily that he loves her. Then he disappears in the fabric of this episode, seeming to be an apparition, an oddly placed piece that doesn't fit among the panic of sick and dying people. He would do this again in the finale-- come to Emily's sickbed, express his love, and not have another scene onscreen with her ever again.

Yet, however, despite all that push and pull, Teddy and Emily have the sweetest kisses here and there (not presented in the book): innocent cheek pecks from the season one, episode four's "The Disappointed House" (my personal favorite) to their first full blown kiss in season four, episode three's "Rites of Passage." Thus, their kisses do make up for the books' incredulous loss.


Number Three: Mr. Carpenter flees with a suddenly present wife. 

In the books, former alcoholic Mr. Carpenter is one of Emily's biggest, most devout champions. He staunchly encourages Emily to pursue her writing, giving her honest criticism every step of the way. Usually older male and young girl relationships are hard pills to swallow (especially Emily's disturbingly inappropriate relationship with Dean Priest). Mr. Carpenter stayed in his lane as a teacher, as prime motivator, and attentive reader. Although the television series touches on Emily's intimate relationship with her dearest champion, he is then written to be a fickle idiot, chasing after Emily's Scottish relative Cousin Isabel (see number four) and leaving Blair Water forever to repair a marriage. Not sure if the actor was unable to continue on in the role, but this again would have been another sign to recast.

Along with Aunt Elizabeth, Uncle Wallace (Jeremy Ackerman) also dies (he too is alive in the books). Aunt Ruth (Anna Cameron) and Aunt Laura (Sheila McCarthy) were at odds with Emily staying in Shrewsbury with Aunt Ruth.

Number Four: The addition of Ian Bowles,* his mother, Uncle Malcolm, and Cousin Isabel Murray were unnecessary.

Montgomery had already created many full fledged characters. There was no need for adding new ones-- ugh the whole Scottish Murray clan was so bad. Plus, the plot for others including Rhoda Stuart's family (awful characters and Rhoda herself should have been gone by mid-season two) to usurp New Moon inexcusably dragged on.

Another brutal plot was bringing in Robbie, a biracial boy Uncle Malcolm adopts. Robbie is ostracized and accidentally dies thanks to nasty Cousin Isabel. It was a terrible realization that most of these beloved characters (with the exception of Emily who does fetishize Robbie's skin color) showed their racism, their white privilege. This whole episode, an empty, half-hearted dialogue on race, was essentially forgotten like most of that intolerable third season. The writers did not have what it took to reach inside the jaw of this content and tug at the jugular.

In the future look for a piece on the horribly triggering Ian and his toxic abuse on poor, naïve Aunt Laura. This storyline made the series focus on adults than the teens (I believe that was the age target, quite unclear).

Number Five: Perry Miller not going to Shrewsbury High School and introducing disowned rich boy Jack as the replacement New Moon chore-boy were not wise decisions.

By season three's end, the show suggests that Perry will be attending high school with Teddy, Ilse, and Emily. They compete for the scholarship launched by the visiting queen (uninteresting plot choice too-- in Emily's Climb Aunt Ruth does let Emily stay with her for three years, Teddy receives an art scholarship, and Ilse's dad pays for her schooling). However, Perry bails at the start of the last season, joining the army instead (bad character development that feels cheap and inauthentic). In fact, this whole situation is maliciously savaged. Perry returns and like Rhoda Stuart has sex with a stranger. Both incidents desperately attempting to provide lessons in adolescence are insignificant and awkwardly out of place.

One highlight is creating a deep, meaningful bond between Emily (Martha Macissac) and Aunt Laura (Sheila McCarthy)-- hinted in the books, vividly realized in the television series. Aunt Laura is like an adult child slowly becoming free after laudanum addiction and an unhappy marriage (a blackmailed marriage at that)-- troubling sights for a show that doesn't seem to truly know its audience.

Number Six: The finale does not wrap up the show successfully. 

Basically Emily gives Teddy her first novel to read over. In the Emily's Quest, it is actually Dean who reads the novel and tells her that he doesn't like it (which was an ugly manipulative criticism seeing as it turned out Dean hated that writing seemed a stronger love than her feelings for him and Dean wouldn't compete with anyone or anything for Emily's devotion). Thus, in the episode, Teddy is brushing her off to the point of being ridiculously out of character. Then Emily falls down the steps— also taken from the final book— and is overwhelmed with flashbacks.

The final season, only seven episodes long, were all disjointed, rushed, and had a "red flag" feeling to the writers' stories. They didn't have the desire to retain Montgomery's magic and charming spirit. It reeks of how television series are not prepared for a sudden cancellation notice. Perhaps that is what transpired to a work that began with genuine intentions. Great details were left out in exchange for darker depressing content like Aunt Laura's miscarriage and Ian's suggested suicide.

I may have hated Emily of New Moon's television finale (most finales always fail to earn admiral respect), but credit must be given to what it is due. The best parts were Emily and Ilse's remarkably engaging friendship brought to rich, colorful life— all of its purity, sweetness, roughness, and humor delivered brilliantly by Martha Macissac's rebellious writer Emily and Jessica Pellerin's fiery, potty-mouthed Ilse. Emily is the narrator, she is constantly writing, constantly imagining utilizing her second sight gift— wonderful indeed. Christopher Deidrich's score enhances the clairvoyant mysteries and intrigues floating so vibrantly around Emily's small yet invigorating Prince Edward Island existence. Overall, the show felt womanistic. The women characters were more realized and centered, passionately declaring a valiant independent and daring outlook than most other shows would allow them to have. Women were writing and directing episodes as well— a solid kudos.

Also, whatever happened to Pandora, Emily's precious cat that she fought so hard to keep? She too disappeared in season two— the start of unhinged disasters.

Still, Marlene Matthews managed to obtain some heart and soul. We have to commend her for that.

Thank You, Christy Marx For 'Jem and the Holograms'

Jem and the Holograms debuted on October 6, 1985.

I don’t remember watching cult animated classic Jem and the Holograms during childhood, but my mom swears that it happened. Apparently, I sat in front of the television, fixated on the screen, drawn by these women pop rock musicians and their super sophisticated computer, Synergy. Perhaps, it is true, that my love for purple is deeper than imagined, that the purple haired afro fashionista Shana may have been the catalyst to my lifelong passion for the color.

Plus the theme song is catchy.

Shana Elmsford, the purple afro queen, is a drummer and fashion designer. She was voiced by Cindy McGee who also voiced Starlight Girls Chrissy and Lela.

A few years ago, The Hub Channel aired 1980's throwback cartoons: Transformers, My Little Pony, and G.I. Joe with Jem and the Holograms capturing my utmost attention. Viscerally stunned by the stylish foursome (turned quintet in later seasons), I tuned into late night marathons, growing intrigued by the inherited Synergy machine, Jerrica Benton's her one-named alter ego, Jem, and the amazing band: songwriter/keyboardist, Kimbra Benton (Jerrica's younger red haired sister), blue-haired guitarist Aja Leith, and drummer/fashion designer/bassist, Shana Elmsford. Technical engineer and road manager, Rio Pacheco was an honorary member with drummer Carmen "Raya" Alonso coming on board much later to temporarily replace Shana, who wanted to pursue a fashion design career.

Jem and the Holograms' unique, pop art palette came alive with great colors and stellar patterns. Plus the frequent outfit changes were rare in a cartoon. The impressive 1980's fashion statements showcased top notch funky, sophistication, irresistible in the many sleek, fantasy fantastic music videos playing in every episode. From band members to the Starlight girls, almost every character sang a tune among magical segments about journey, love, family, and happiness.

The first words, Synergy ever recited were, "Jerrica Benton, I have come for you."

After the death of Emmett Benton whose Starlight Music Company conjoined with his foster children "The Starlight Girls," from her beloved father, Jerrica inherits red star shaped earrings, secret projectors that allow Jerrica and Synergy to communicate and create the Jem hologram.

Jem and the Holograms jamming out.

One of the biggest coops was the Jerrica/Rio/Jem love triangle. Complications went funnily overboard with Jem seducing Rio away from Jerrica. A truly, truly outrageous moment was the song, "Who Is He Kissing?" Rio is making out with a fake version of his girlfriend, which leads to the how. Holograms aren't real. Yet Jem is touchable and kissable. He can't distinguish the difference. Jerrica doesn't want to say anything. The obvious distrust leads to dispute central. Perhaps Jerrica didn't really trust her boyfriend. After all, she did make a third alter character just to test him.

Kind-hearted, thoughtful, and sincere, generous Gemini, Jerrica Benton is lead singer, Jem. She is voiced by Samantha Newark while Britta Phillips sings.

Rio loves Jerrica but......

he has a major thing for Jem.

The other girls had relationships. Boy hungry Kimber had various boyfriends of her own, Shana entered a relationship with film director Anthony Julian, and Aja fell for Stormer's brother, Craig Phillips, who was almost the new drummer for the band.

Kimber is the other wiizardress behind the curtain. Next to Synergy's incredible machine, Kimber's role has importance-- she wrote every Jem' song from the heart. She also says "Outrageous" the most.

Aja, the tomboy auto mechanic, is the most problematic one. She doesn't have a lot of episodes focused on her. Although she is an Asian-American character, her voice work is done by a white actress who also does Kimber, Princess Adriana (Kimber's doppelganger), and Starlight Girl, Ashley.  A real miss here.

Last addition Raya was a nice final addition. Late Asian American actress Linda Dangcil voiced her.

One of the several Shana centric episodes, "In Stitches," is delivers a sweet message about believing in your art and putting best foot forward even in the most desperate times.

The best thing about Jem and the Holograms aka Jem, Her Sister and Their Best Friends, however, is their sisterhood. They are always there for one another and support each other. They are a loving, beautiful family that extends to every Starlight Girl. It was especially tough for Kimber to befriend each girl that the Bentons adopted, but eventually she came to her senses. This illustrated an often tough reality in families, the brewing jealousy that comes with questioning if parental love can be divided equally-- biological verses adopted.

Attempted murderers Stormer, Pizazz, and Roxy.

The Misfits, an alternative girl band with feisty, pulp punk edge, were on the opposite spectrum of the Jem team's goody goody image. Rude, obnoxious rivals, who though talented and beautiful, allowed misplaced jealousy and ambition to corrupt their integrity. Led by rich, spoiled Phyillis "Pizazz" Gabor (lead singer and rhythm guitar), docile Mary "Stormer" Phillips (often reluctant to be full fledged evil, keytar and lyricist) and feisty Roxanne "Roxy" Pellegrini, the trio (who later turned quad with British saxophonist Jetta). Portion of blame rests on Eric Raymond, former associate at Starlight Music, a greedy, misogynistic crook stopping at nothing to win and takeover his former . Their schemes were horrific attempted murder plots that made this animated pop tart a bit hard to watch. Plus the stalking and bullying were not fun extremes. A lot of my friends consider The Misfits a pleasurable favorite, but their pettiness overwhelmed the bad girl dynamic. It seemed like two very different musically styled bands could not get along much less find a common ground (joy of music and fashion) to exist together. One had to be super positive while the other was borderline evil, except Stormer whose moral compass actually worked.

The many faces of Eric Raymond via Synergy's hologram of course.

Still, some memorable highlights were episodes that focused on Roxy's illiteracy (season two's Roxy) and Stormer's sweet side gig with Kimber when both songwriting/keyboardists momentarily quit their respective groups (season two's The Bands Break Up).

The awesome Aja, Shana, Jem, and Kimber telling Raya that she is one of them.

With the many animated reboots lately, it is such a shame that Jem and the Holograms (ignore that horrible trite that just stole its name) are left off revisit lists. For years, Christy Marx and devoted fans have wanted this to happen.

There are problematic issues. Every show, especially cartoons, have major flaws. With Jem and the Holograms, however, Marx showed a real investment in having every girl see herself in an inclusive pop band. Jerrica/Jem, Kimber, Shana, Aja, and Raya had individual style, a sense of uniqueness that was a huge crossing bridge in the 1980's decade.

To this day, Jem and the Holograms remains one of the most truly, truly outrageous cartoons that ever existed.