Hal Roach's Our Gang shorts have been schooling kids in the fine art of misbehavin' for over eighty years, though their influence is clearly on the wane now that parents and media watchdogs have red-flagged the show for its racially insensitive portrayal of African-Americans. As a socially conscious individual myself, I completely understand this impulse. But as someone who managed to grow up to be a socially conscious individual despite gorging on Sunday morning broadcasts of The Little Rascals (as they were rechristened in the 1950s for TV syndication), I can't help but wonder if there's still a place for these wonderfully anarchic one- and two-reelers in responsible homes (where media savvy parents are on hand to explain the rampant stereotyping).

This is because I know for a fact that my childhood would've been considerably less enjoyable - and my imagination somewhat stunted - without the havoc-wreaking influence of Spanky, Alfalfa, Porky, Buckwheat, Stymie, Darla, Froggy and the rest of the gang. Whenever I set out into the woods to construct a treehouse/clubhouse with my friends, I was always aiming for one of those impossibly elaborate ramshackle structures slapped together by the Rascals. I wanted my own fire station with a big slide and rickety fire trucks that would careen all over the street and terrify the public we were purporting to help. I (foolishly) dreamed of convening my own version of the "He-Man Woman Haters Club", and yearned to put on a variety show and charge admission. And, aside from excluding women, I wanted all of the kids in my neighborhood to take part, including my one African-American friend Raymond (who, when we used to play superheroes, would have us battling against the Ku Klux Klan). The diversity of Our Gang was a big part of what made them cool.

But after watching THE OUR GANG COLLECTION, a five-disc set of long-unavailable MGM shorts released this week by the Warner Archive, I wonder how I could show my six-year-old nephew something like "Men in Fright". On one hand, it's a classic Our Gang setup: the kids have shown up at the hospital with a care package for Darla, who's just had her tonsils out. The main complication involves Alfalfa getting mistaken for a sick kid and getting whisked off on a gurney to the operating room. But the real troubling stuff occurs back in Darla's quarters, where the rest of the gang inexplicably feast on all of the food Darla can't eat. Hot dogs, sundaes and other delectable items are offered up. But Buckwheat craves one thing and one thing only: watermelon. And when he gets his watermelon, his eyes bug out and he strips the sucker down to the rind.

What's especially tricky about a ludicrously offensive scene like this is you'd have to first tell your child that it is racially insensitive, after which you'd be forced to explain stereotyping - an idea that's likely to sail way over the head of a kid who's at the prime age to enjoy The Little Rascals. So why bother? Aren't there enough non-racist Looney Tunes and Tom & Jerry and Three Stooges shorts with which to corrupt your child's sensibilities?

And don't get me started on "Captain Spanky's Showboat", in which Buckwheat essays the role of Oogie Boogie, "The Wild Man of Borneo" (a callback to one of the most notoriously racist Our Gang one-reelers, "The Kid from Borneo"), while gnawing on an animal leg. Or "Tale of a Dog" (the last Our Gang short ever produced), where Buckwheat's ignorant mother "ice-o-lates" her sick child. It's disgusting shit.

This is why the Warner Archive has slapped a disclaimer on their set: "THE OUR GANG COLLECTION is intended for the adult collector and is not suitable for children." It might seem like a shame to keep these films from their intended audience, but once you start sifting through them, your guilt will quickly subside. Produced between 1938 and 1944 after Hal Roach sold the franchise off to MGM, these shorts lack the wild, undercranked energy that made the series so popular. They're actually quite staid: carefully scripted, competently directed (by the capable likes of George Sidney, Cy Endfield and Edward Cahn), and, for the most part, morally edifying. Meanwhile, the kids feel reined in. Even a consummate pro like Spanky McFarland appears uncomfortable at times. And it goes without saying that you never feel like the actors have been endangered - which, let's be honest, is part of the reprehensible fun of the Roach-produced films.

That said, as an Our Gang connoisseur, there is a certain thrill in getting to see five discs worth of new-to-me Little Rascals shenanigans (even if many of the situations are recycled from the Roach era). It's also fascinating from a historical perspective in that, as the series moves into the '40s, the most iconic of the Rascals begin to drop out one-by-one. The first to go is Porky (after 1939's "Dog Daze"), which deprives Buckwheat of his longtime, equally inarticulate partner-in-crime. (Actually, the reason a good deal of Buckwheat's material doesn't come off as insanely racist is because Porky is every bit as silly and childish.) The next exit is a killer: Alfalfa. Once he's out of the picture, Darla - and her wicked hot-cold act (which usually involves driving Alfalfa jealous by stepping out with neighborhood bully Butch) - ceases to work; ergo, she's quickly jettisoned as well. Spanky takes off after 1942's "Unexpected Riches", which leaves Mickey Gubitosi (aka Robert Blake) as the default leader of the gang. Buckwheat hangs on until the bitter end, by which point the writers were ham-fistedly using the troupe to get kids involved in the war effort.

THE OUR GANG COLLECTION is available from the Warner Archive for a limited time at $34.99. That's a pretty good deal for a five-disc set - especially since the picture and sound are surprisingly excellent. As with FREEBIE AND THE BEAN, there's an obvious reason Warner Bros. has opted to go the Archive route with these shorts. Are they being overly cautious? Perhaps. But at least these films are finally being made available for collectors. As Stephen Belden tweeted to me yesterday, this is the path Disney should take with SONG OF THE SOUTH (at least with regards to the disclaimer; a full restoration - and maybe a limited theatrical release - would certainly be in order as well).

As for whether you should share THE OUR GANG COLLECTION with your kids... I have no idea. If you must, start with the Roach-produced efforts like "Hook and Ladder", "Our Gang Follies of 1938" or "Bored of Education". And be prepared to wince as hard as you laugh.

Later this week, I'll have a write-up on two less controversial items from the Archive: the 1970s made-for-TV horror duo of BAD RONALD and DON'T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK.

Faithfully submitted,

Mr. Beaks

P.S. Here are a couple of exclusive clips!

From "The Little Ranger"

From "Football Romeo"