With age comes experience.
With experience comes perspective.
And with all three comes The Hulka Syndrome.
The Hulka Syndrome (THS) is that shift of allegiance or empathy you feel as an adult towards a person -- real or fictitious -- you first encountered in your youth.
Perhaps you’ve experienced THS at a family gathering or a high school reunion. Or maybe while watching the movie
Stripes, which is exactly when THS hit me with swift and surprising clarity.
Let’s review the film’s plot. Slacker joins the Army. Clashes with his old school, hard nosed commanding officer. Finds redemption, reconciliation and respect. (Of course the film loses its way during the Winnebago-laden second half, but that’s another post.)
The first half of the film thrives, largely due to the generational tension created between the two main characters, the slacker John Winger and Sgt. Hulka.
When the film was released in 1981 – and for years afterward – my college friends and I would howl at the antics of Winger (Bill Murray). To us, this guy challenged authority and seemingly antiquated attitudes while staying true to his carefree self. He was a lazy hero striking a blow against the uptight establishment. In truth, Winger was us. Undisciplined. A bit aimless. Hazy on his future. Certainly not Army material.
By contrast, Sgt. Hulka (Warren Oates) was bred for the armed services. Focused, disciplined and tough, he was no-nonsense (and close shaven). His disdain for those who wasted his time and peddled nonsense was palpable.
In college, my friends and I elevated nonsense to an art form. Naturally, we cheered Winger’s defiance of Hulka on every viewing. Stick it to The Man – for all of us!
Yet when I stumbled across
Stripes on cable a few days ago, I found myself cheering for a different character.
“Why doesn’t Winger appreciate Hulka?,” I wondered aloud. Then to my wife, “You know, that Hulka has a lot of skins on the wall. He really deserves respect.”
My wife and I often discuss films not aging well. That usually refers to films with Heston-esque overacting, dated production values, massive hairstyles, and wardrobes including but not limited to
Members Only jackets and parachute pants.
I now have to consider that movies like
Stripes don’t age well because the characters haven’t aged. And I have.
The onset of The Hulka Syndrome can be uncomfortable. (
“What’s happening to me? I’m losing my sense of fun!”) I experienced another painful bout of THS during a recent viewing of
Risky Business. (
“I’d tan that boy’s hide if he chipped my egg.”) I can only imagine the violent THS reactions a John Hughes retrospective might trigger.
Funny how the characters of my youth who flout authority and tradition seem a little less funny today – undoubtedly the result of responsibilities like a marriage, a mortgage, a so-called career and parenting. Perspective, indeed.
I’m reminded of the profound change I felt after having our firstborn, that of suddenly viewing the world through the eyes of a parent instead of a child. No wonder, then, we view characters first met through the eyes of a child differently when viewed through the more seasoned eyes of an adult.
The Hulka Syndrome reminds me I’ve crossed the Rubicon. And in a surprising plot twist, I now stand on the other side of the generation gap, championing instead of cackling at the values espoused by my newest, bestest buddy, and big toe, Sergeant Hulka.
