Over the past year, I’ve been collecting DVDs of old shows I used to love as a kid — The Munsters, Batman (the 1966 version), Speed Racer, The Flintstones, and various Jim Henson projects. (Yes, it’s true, I’m old.) These days, you can usually grab a complete series on DVD for around $20, which feels like a steal.
Last night, I found myself thinking about The Monkees and remembered how much of an impact that show had on me as a kid. I used to love it — and revisiting clips over the years has only confirmed that, while wacky and surreal, it was also surprisingly well-produced. There’s a lot to learn from how that show was made.
One thing that really intrigues me about all these shows is the writing. Specifically, how do they set up each episode? A lot of classic TV formats share something with today’s YouTube storytelling: they often begin with a hook — a glimpse of the climactic moment — and then rewind to show how the characters got there. Batman, The Munsters, and The Monkees all used that structure. So do many successful YouTube creators today.
I’m also paying attention to how much of each episode is devoted to pushing the plot forward versus setting up comedy or action bits. How do the bits start? What’s the payoff? And how do they exit a scene once the joke or gag has landed?
In The Monkees, the living room set had this bizarre life-size ventriloquist dummy-looking doll. Sometimes, the characters would casually play cards with it, or ask it for advice, like it was just another friend in the house. Totally absurd — and totally brilliant. These bits weren’t always connected to the plot, but they made the world feel surreal and alive.
Naturally, I assumed I could grab the complete Monkees series for $20, like the others. Nope. The full set is hundreds of dollars — $300+ in some cases. So I tried YouTube instead, but whoever owns the rights is serious about copyright enforcement. I could only find a couple full episodes.
Eventually, I found a fancy season one box set on eBay: six DVDs, 32 episodes, some bonus music CDs, and nice packaging. $45. At that price, okay. I bought it. If I end up needing season two, I’ll go hunting for that later.
I did watch one of the few full episodes online — and to my surprise, it still made me laugh. As a kid, I took shows like this and Batman at face value. But watching now, it’s obvious how tongue-in-cheek they are. It’s like pretend play for adults — grown-ups in costumes playing superheroes, rock stars, villains, and cartoonish executives. Showbiz, yo.
