It's a Magical World: In Praise of Calvin and Hobbes

In November 1985, Calvin and Hobbes first appeared in just thirty-five newspapers; one year later that number had increased to two hundred and fifty. Ten years after the young boy captured his tiger companion by setting a trap baited with a tuna sandwich, the strip's creator Bill Watterson announced his plans to stop, and that was that. Calvin and Hobbes rode off into the distance on their toboggan, the snowy wilderness in front of them. “It's a magical world, Hobbes, ol' buddy,” says Calvin. “Let's go exploring!”

Since that wintery day in December 1995, Watterson has resisted all requests to revisit his strip, but the characters live on in the hearts and minds of all his fans. Calvin and Hobbes' importance should not be underestimated; neither should Watterson himself. Throughout the comic strip's run, its creator refused to compromise his vision. It wasn't an easy path to take, but the results speak for themselves. His Sunday strips - longer, more complex, and in colour - required Watterson to battle the newspapers, who preferred a standardised format rather than his free-flowing style. His syndicate's desire to capitalise on the comic's success through extensive merchandising was unequivocally rejected by the cartoonist, who admitted he was prepared to “quit the strip and lose everything, rather than get appallingly rich.” While illegal reproductions, usually portraying Calvin doing something wholly inappropriate with/to Hobbes, inevitably cashed in on the characters' popularity, Watterson did what he has always done: stayed true to his principles.

It is a testament to the cartoonist's vision that, almost twenty years after he put down his pen, Calvin and Hobbes remains as relevant, and as loved, as it ever was. It seems as though every situation in life can be understood through Calvin, whose opinions are intelligent yet reveal his inexperience as a result of his age, and his anthropomorphic best friend, Hobbes, a more rational, though always resolutely feline, voice of reason. While Calvin's long suffering parents, his teacher, and pretty much every adult, child, or non-tiger he comes in contact with cannot understand his unconventional outlook, Watterson's beautiful illustrations and hilarious, intelligent insights capture a world in which unbridled creativity is king, offering a very honest, personal window into his own mind as much as Calvin's. The lack of personal interviews is, in a way, irrelevant; he acknowledges that the strips themselves are “pretty much a transcript of my mental diary.”

By finishing when he did, Watterson achieved something few people have the gumption to do: he ensured his vision remains solely, entirely his, and it is the perfectly pure authenticity of the world he created that has ensured its longevity. His fans are as dedicated as ever: the Kickstarter campaign to raise funding for Dear Mr Watterson raised more than 200% of its intended goal within three months, despite the cartoonist himself not being involved. As a sign of respect for the reclusive man, the documentary is evidence of filmmaker Joel Allen Schroeder's “undying appreciation and love of Calvin and Hobbes,” rather than an attempt to coerce an interview or beg for more strips. And what of Calvin and Hobbes – what's happened to them since their adventures were last immortalised? In the words of Watterson himself, “I like to think that, now that I’m not recording everything they do, [they] are out there having an even better time.” How could they possibly be doing anything else?