What kid growing up in the 1980s didn’t want to be (or be with) Michael J. Fox?
I thought he had a pretty cool thing going on, and I’ll be the first to admit that it pains me to see his ongoing suffering with Parkinson’s disease. I can’t say that I’ve ever followed the news about him (or any other celebrity) especially closely, but I’ve always had a passing interest in Michael J. Fox because of two of his early projects that inspired me.
Just two: Teen Wolf will not be addressed here.
I grew up watching Family Ties, and I think it’s a show that maybe I need to go back and take a look at again. It was there, right after The Cosby Show on Thursday nights, but also in syndication in that sweet slot in the afternoon after I had finished my homework but before my dad arrived home for dinner and the TV got turned off.
I was also lucky enough to see all three Back to the Future movies in the theatre on their first release. The first movie came out when I was in the fourth grade, and I remember one Saturday my brother and my mom were up to something else, so my dad took me to the multiplex and let me pick. I don’t know whether I knew what Back to the Future was about, but I was into sci-fi, we went to see it, the first of many times my dad let me pick the movie (and probably one of the few when my choice didn’t disappoint him; years later, I suggested Thirty-Two Short Films About Glenn Gould, which kicked off a totally separate “celebrity” interest).
I know people like Back to the Future–no, they adore Back to the Future, and they aren’t wrong. I watched it with my son for the first time recently, and it absolutely holds up. It is one of those something-for-everyone kind of films: teen rom-com, action, science fiction, buddy film, nostalgia piece; it has a fantastic score, a great screenplay, very good continuity, and really just the best of what 1980s cinema could offer. It’s up there with two of the first three Indiana Jones movies and the even-numbered Star Treks on my list of “will watch at any time with anyone” movies.
And at the core is Marty McFly, played by Michael J. Fox in his stammering, disbelieving, ski-vest-wearing self. Seeing the world through Marty’s eyes really makes the movie pop, and drives home the strangeness and foreignness of the entire situation. Of course, there’s great writing here, but unless writing is performed by a great actor, there’s nothing for it. Fox is cool when he needs to be cool, smart when he needs to be smart, and clever when he needs to be clever: Achilles, Patroclus, and Odysseus in one teenage heartthrob.
Sure, his day-to-day life has its problems, but who wouldn’t want to be (or be with) Marty McFly?
I never owned a ski vest (and why is a kid from Southern California wearing a ski vest all the time, or even for just the one day?), and I don’t think I ever consciously imitated Michael J. Fox’s Marty, but it was–and probably is–a touchstone for me of what it means to be cool. When the sequels appeared, I bought the novelization and was first in line at the movies (well, not literally first in line, but my brother and I were definitely there opening weekend; speaking of opening weekend, my daughter and I have a date coming up for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, and I can’t wait). The second movie primed me for the complexities of time travel plots (Yesterday’s Enterprise, anyone?), and I’m still a sucker for a good story involving time travel (I’m currently reading The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley–great story, with some really pithy one-liners, too: p. 82: “Despite being out of uniform, he looked oddly formal, as if he was the sole person in serif font.”)
And then there is Alex P. Keaton, scion of the Keaton family on Family Ties. Alex is driven, and intelligent, and although his ambitions never lined up with my own (he wanted to be Gordon Gecko; I wanted to be Gordon Fullerton). He sees following the rules and being a part of the system as the way to success, or at least happiness, and I’ve spent a good chunk of my life playing that game–and I certainly spent my school years that way. It works for him: there are honors, accolades, and even girlfriends. And, of course, this is a sitcom, so most of it is reasonably light-hearted, although in the post-M*A*S*H sitcom world, there are strong doses of sentimentality and maudlin themes as well.
And Alex is basically a good guy–a good friend, a good son, a good brother. There is a fair amount in him to admire, and I took that. There’s that scene where Mallory’s boy problems intrude on Alex’s college interview, and he’s angry, but forgives her. It’s not just the sitcom imperative to wrap things up after twenty-two minutes: it’s a demonstration the need for family to be patient and understanding with each other, to help each other when times are tough, and it’s how I hope my own kids would treat each other.
I liked Alex, as portrayed by Michael J. Fox.
And yet, in eighth grade, our class voted on joke awards for each other, and at a party on the last night of our class trip to Washington, D.C., I received the Alex P. Keaton Award.
By that point, I understood that my classmates saw me as a “nerd,” and that Alex was a pretty straitlaced, nerdy kind of guy. I didn’t wear a shirt and tie to school every day, and my ambitions weren’t about success in business, but I didn’t play it cool about my perception of my own intelligence and ability, which was pretty inflated. Ticking down the list of Breakfast Club social groups, I was definitely more Anthony Michael Hall than Emilio Estevez or Judd Nelson, and while the Ally Sheedys may (may) have thought that was OK, they would never have admitted it to the Molly Ringwalds.
So the Alex P. Keaton Award stung. It was supposed to be fun and funny, but for whom? I wasn’t completely clueless: I knew what my social status had been through three years of middle school, and I didn’t like having it confirmed with a piece of paper (which I’m pretty sure I got rid of as soon as I could). I didn’t really think about what the real meaning of the Alex P. Keaton Award was, or what my classmates–some of whom were my friends–meant by conferring it on me.
Was it meant to be a compliment? It sort of lined up with “Most Likely to Succeed,” from one perspective: on Family Ties, there’s never any doubt for Alex, unlike for his big sister Mallory, that success in whatever he chooses–business, school, chess–is a given. (Also… in the 1980s, a teen heartthrob is shown having a serious interest in chess in a sitcom that aired on Thursday nights on a major network: how are we not talking about this?!?)
Was it a recognition that Alex P. Keaton is a pretty good guy, and the other kids thought I was a pretty good guy, too? I don’t know. I think–I hope–that I’m a better person than I was at age fourteen, but by middle school standards, I don’t think I was as rotten as might have been possible, even if I sometimes gave as good as I got.
Whatever.
Michael J. Fox played Alex P. Keaton brilliantly throughout the run of Family Ties, at least in my memory (again, I will admit to not having watched a single episode in a very long time).
As much as Family Ties was supposed to be about Boomer parents (former hippies) raising Gen X kids in the suburbs of Columbus, Ohio, the kids took over the show, and not in a “those darn kids” kind of way–in a way that showed them as fully-formed humans with problems that were no less important than adult problems–and those problems often were adult problems.
We have to talk about “A, My Name is Alex.”
In the 1980s, half-hour sitcoms would sometimes do this thing where they turned into hour dramas for an episode, syndication be darned. Again, they were in the post-M*A*S*H universe and had aspirations to be Important, and people sat there and watched them, because that was their dose of their favorite characters for the week. Individual episodes would be hyped in the lead-up to the broadcast, so you would know that a Very Special Episode of Blossom would be happening on Tuesday night (or whatever… I never watched Blossom, I swear).
In “A, My Name is Alex,” Alex P. Keaton seeks mental health counseling in the aftermath of a friend’s sudden death in a car crash. I had forgotten about this episode mostly, like much of Family Ties, but a recent reminder of it brought it all back. There is humor here, but it is mostly a serious episode, mostly set in the therapist’s office and in flashbacks that Alex experiences.
Even as a kid, I knew that Michael J. Fox is brilliant in this episode–taped before a live audience–in his ability to turn corners from joy to grief, from skepticism about counseling to vulnerability and honesty. It shows teenagers–it showed me–that even the heartthrob has to be sad sometimes, and even the highest high-achiever needs help when things get difficult: through most of Family Ties, Alex P. Keaton tries to be John Galt: overly competent, self-reliant, enlightened-self-interested, but part of the arc of his character is learning, as I think I had to learn as well, that “no man is an island.”
I don’t know that I always remembered the lessons from “A, My Name is Alex,” but I think the normalization of Alex seeking and accepting help from his family and a mental health professional probably helped me to do the same thing in my adult life when it was time.
And, apparently, it was Michael J. Fox who pushed for “A, My Name is Alex” to be made in the first place.
I’m not much for celebrity hero-worship or parasocial relationships, as any reader on this blog knows (do I even have any readers?), but I am thankful for those creators who have brought meaningful performances into being. Perhaps this is because I am a performer myself–conductor, trombonist, public speaker and teacher, and even sometime-actor; and as a composer, I certainly enjoy working with my fellow performers. I know what it takes to put yourself into preparing and presenting a work for someone else’s entertainment or edification, so there is a fundamental respect there.
Any actor who has brought two very memorable characters and personal touchstones for me personally into being deserves my gratitude, heartthrob or not. An actor who pointed to ways of being and modelled a course that would influence my own needs to be acknowledged. I know he’ll probably never read this, and it really isn’t about that, but if I could say two words to the great Michael J. Fox:
Thank you.
