Just What Went Wrong With ‘Velma’?
The cultural phenomenon of Scooby-Doo has had many iterations since its inception in 1969. From an animated TV show and movies, to a live action feature starring Freddie Prinze Jr and Sarah Michelle Gellar, the Mystery Inc. gang and their trusty canine companion have been one of the most popular fictional teen crime-solving squads.
New animated series Velma, developed by comedian and television writer Charles Grandy and executive producer Mindy Kaling, explores how this group of misfits first became an unstoppable sleuthing team. Like most reboots, its previously all-white cast has been diversified: Kaling voices a South Asian Velma Dinkley, Constance Wu is an Asian Daphne Blake and Sam Richardson plays an African-American Norville “Shaggy” Rogers. At this point in the Mystery Inc. story, there’s nary a paw or Scooby snack in sight – sorry, Scooby fans.
Despite being blessed with a star-studded cast, the reboot has been met with mixed reviews: fans of Kaling’s work love it; some parts of the Scooby-Doo fandom are outraged, while others are critical of its content and character development. The new South Asian Velma has inspired haters to create racist and misogynistic caricatures on Twitter. Obviously, not all of these reactions are equally valid, but the mixed reception does call for an examination of reboots and what makes for effective autofiction.
I Write Reboots, Not Originals
Reboots have become quite the phenomenon among streaming services, due to the double benefit of being able to tap into a pre-existing, and often nostalgic, audience, while also engaging a new generation. The key to an effective reboot is staying true to what made the original great, while adjusting some aspects to fit contemporary cultural and social expectations.
Shows that have done this effectively include Netflix’s The Babysitters Club, Wednesday, and Heartbreak High. Examples of not-so-great reboots include Gossip Girl (which got better in the second season, before it was cancelled) and Nancy Drew (which has surprisingly lasted for four seasons despite too much tampering with the original story and introducing an unnecessary supernatural element).
There are things to love about Velma: the new, vivid illustrative style; the diverse cast, the darker mature tone, the pop culture references (someone sings Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ at a funeral), a killer soundtrack featuring Shania Twain and Dua Lipa; and the introduction of body horror. All these aspects work well visually and effectively blend into the storyline.
At times the humour is reminiscent of Drawn Together, a sitcom based on caricatures of well-known animated characters. The show’s plotlines weave what one reviewer called a “complex love quadrangle” involving the four main characters, and the speculations of long-time Velma stans are redeemed by an overt acknowledgment of her sexuality.
Where the series falls short is its overuse of meta commentary, which impedes character and story development. In the pilot episode, a line from Daphne references the reboot’s diverse cast (“Not to oversimplify a thorny issue, but everyone loves it when white people play Jesus”). There’s even a nod to the fandom’s ongoing query of Velma’s sexuality, when the eponymous character says, “In this day and age, you can’t speculate about someone’s sexuality, unless they’re famous or Peppermint Patty”.
Self-awareness can be a useful comedic tool in acknowledging fans and anticipating the perspective of your viewership, but its constant use makes it feel like the show is trying too hard to justify its existence and creative choices. It also leaves the viewer confused about where the show stands on the idea of more inclusive productions, both in terms of narratives and casting. Sometimes, it distracts from the show’s core mystery plot: the disappearance of Velma’s mother Diya and the serial murders of hot high school girls.
The original Mystery Inc. crew had very one-dimensional personalities, so the reboot was an opportunity to inject a little more nuance into their characters. But there isn’t enough depth in Velma’s exploration of Daphne being adopted, or the fact that her mums are an interracial queer couple (shout out to Wanda Sykes). Norville/Shaggy is also biracial, but this aspect of his character also feels underexplored in terms of lived experience. As such, the show’s racial/cultural diversity often feels purely aesthetic.
“The only good hook a show needs is good storytelling,” says one of the unnamed hot white girls in the pilot episode – some meta advice I wish the show had taken a bit more seriously during the writing process.
Mindy’s Projects
Kaling’s influence on depictions of South Asian women in Hollywood cannot be denied. Her portrayal of Kelly Kapoor on The Office – a flawed customer service representative who uses her cultural heritage and sex appeal to get ahead – is some of her best work. Her acting was perhaps only surpassed by her excellent writing on the show (that Diwali episode song re-enters my brain every year).
Since working on The Office, she has become one of the most powerful showrunners in Hollywood, creating The Mindy Project, the lesser-known Champions, the popular Never Have I Ever and The Sex Lives of College Girls to name a few. All these shows feel like an autofictional projection of herself and other figures from her life. The protagonist of the Mindy Project was modelled on her mum; Never Have I Ever explores how she dealt with the loss of her mum; and The Sex Lives of College Girls features a younger version of herself, when she was an aspiring comedian/writer.
However, having such a signature style and tone can also work against you. Making Velma into one of her trademark snarky female leads makes her feel like an extension of Kaling herself, rather than the original Velma – a sharply intelligent character, but with a lot less snark. Transposing your own narrative onto an existing IP isn’t always a cohesive fit, and this has generated some of the negative feedback the reboot has received.
As someone who consumes a lot of Kaling’s projects, I find the character tropes can sometimes feel a little too repetitive. Even her adoration for Fred emulates her tendency to pair her brown characters with white men, which is interpreted as either a representation of her romantic/platonic relationship with B.J. Novak or a metaphor for the validation she seeks from her white comedic peers.
Ushering in a new era
There is a common trajectory for figures who aren’t white and able-bodied in the global film industry: once they reach certain level of mainstream popularity, they become the industry’s go-to for telling a particular narrative. This is what Kaling has become for South Asian characters. For millennials, her work has shaped how women from the South Asian diaspora are represented on screen.
While Velma may not have been the reboot we all hoped for, Kaling obviously has a lot to live up to. Her legacy of lifting the profile of other South Asian writers, directors and producers may lead to greater breadth and depth in how the community is depicted, while not restricting them to only tell stories that reflect their lived experience.
Vyshnavee Wijekumar is a freelance writer and culture critic. She is on the board of the Melbourne Women in Film Festival and is a fortnightly film reviewer for Triple R Breakfasters. She was born in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, and has lived in this country since the age of two. You can follow her on Twitter @vylentfemme.