Karl Puschmann is Culture and entertainment writer for the New Zealand Herald. His fascination lies in finding out what drives and inspires creative people.
Because I try to be a good parent I sat my three-year-old daughter Poppy down and broke her little heart.
"Barbie," I said, in a measured, matter-of-fact tone, "sucks."
She took the news as well as can be expected, ie; not very... But the problem was that she'd taken to watching Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse - and only Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse - during her daily screen time allowance and I'd gotten concerned about its shamelessly consumerist message and negative gender stereotyping.
Barbie didn't solve mysteries, save the day, or project herself as a strong female role model. To put it bluntly, Barbie didn't do shit. Barbs had to go.
Before doing "the talk" I'd researched what I could replace Barbie with. To my delight I'd discovered Netflix also housed the dusty old 80s cartoon She-Ra: Princess of Power.
This was a spin-off from the 80s cartoon mega-hit, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, although I'm near certain neither actually screened here. But due to their extensive, inescapable toy range both enjoyed massive playground popularity when I was a kid. In that sense New Zealand was the ultimate realisation of the show's raison d'être; both series were cheaply made and produced solely to sell toys.
Similar to Barbie's Dreamhouse then? Well, yes. But with one crucial difference. She-Ra kicked ass. Not in a metaphorical, 'you go, girl' way, but in a very real and tangible ass kicking way. If you were a baddie in She-Ra then your ass was getting kicked. Fact.
It's basic gist was that She-Ra leads a rebellion fighting the tyrannical reign of the evil Hordak. My plan was to replace Barbie's materialism with She-Ra's female empowerment. This, friends, is how you parent good.
And it worked. Straight away Poppy loved it. She'd walk around singing its epic theme tune, she'd hold a pretend sword above her little head and bellow the catchphrase, "For the honour of Grayskull, I am She-Raaaaa!", and replicate the exaggerated 80s studio echo, repeating, "Ra-ra-ra-ra..." before shouting, "Dad, you're the evil Hordak!" and charging me at full pace.
Barbie's crass consumerism had been replaced with a want to fight injustice and kick ass. I'd pretty much won fathering. She even got her friends into it, although I'm still waiting for their parents to thank me for that...
A few months later Netflix announced they had an all new, rebooted She-Ra cartoon coming. The trailer looked awesome and Poppy couldn't wait to watch "new She-Ra". It launched last Friday and when I got home after work she'd already seen the first episode.
I haven't. We watched the first few episodes together but she charged on without me. A flagrant violation of the Netflix watching code.
But I'm not surprised. New She-Ra is great. It has compelling characters, exciting story arcs and solid laughs. It picks up the original's power sword but is clearly cutting its own trail. It's strong, inclusive and entertaining.
Predictably, the same loudmouth cretins that bleat and moan about 'social justice warriors' and "diversity' and all that other junk started whinging online. New She-Ra - official title She-Ra and the Princesses of Power - was a travesty, a disgrace, a mockery of the original. Not feminine enough, too squeaky, too queer, too - ugh - woke.
And while I was disappointed that She-Ra's male sidekick Bow has lost his terrific 80's porn star moustache in the reboot, these clowns are clearly out of their damned minds. The original had as much credibility as the ads used to sell She-Ra toys. Hell, that's what the show was.
Sure, I liked that She-Ra was an independent woman who got down like that, but she only ever existed to shift product. I've sat through its entire run - around 70 episodes - twice in the last few months and can categorically state that She-Ra was not exactly high art.
I'm pleased the reboot is embracing diversity and different body sizes and is fairly overt - for a kids show anyway - with its inclusive representation. None of this is a bad thing. It reflects the world these young kids are growing up in and means most will see a version of themselves reflected onscreen, no matter their size, sexuality or race.
They're learning acceptance and tolerance while also watching a strong and iconic female character and her motley crew of diverse friends band together to fight a greater evil. I hope Netflix makes some toys.
But I was curious, so last night I asked Poppy which She-Ra was her favourite. She thought for a second before answering.
"I love new She-Ra," she said, "But I love old She-Ra too."
Then a big grin spread across her face as she thrust her pretend sword above her head and shouted, "I am She-Ra! Ra, ra, ra, ra..."
