Main cast: Kate McGregor-Stewart (Mrs Barton), Robert Oliveri (Roy Barton), Danielle Ferland (Barbie Barton), and Rockets Redglare (Mr Swlabr)
Director: Warner Shook
Swlabr is actually an acronym for “She Walks Like a Bearded Rainbow”, and people who are into psychedelic rock may recall that this is also the title of a 1967 song by Cream.
On the other hand, Mr. Swlabr is an example of the tonal dissonance of Monsters: after a slew of episodes with grown-up themes, this is a kiddie episode through and through, thus driving home just how inconsistent the episodes can be throughout a season.
Also, don’t ask me why this kiddie episode gets its title from a song that is about shooting up stuff that shouldn’t be partaken by little kids. Likely, the people behind this show are trying to be funny.
Roy Barton is a young boy unhappy with his lot. His mean mom is dating some guy that he doesn’t like, and his sister Barbie is just as mean to him. They both treat him like Cinderellla too.
The poor kid spends his time in the basement playing with his toys—which he made from various unwanted things around the place—and wishing that he can lock the door from the inside so that he’d never be bothered by his family again.
The fun begins when he discovers a toy in a cereal box. He places the toy in water, as the label instructs, and what do you know, it grows into a foul-mouthed reptile-thing Mr Swlabr that soon becomes Roy’s unlikely ally against his family.
This one could have been very heartwarming or dark and brutal, had it been on another show that isn’t Monsters. Instead, I get a show with a childish idea of “retribution” and a rubbery reptile thing that looks just sad.
Indeed, the poor thing is barely animated, and it doesn’t even look like it is actually speaking Rockets Redglare’s overly excitable lines. I know, it’s just an object, but the sight of it fills me with abject sadness that even an inanimate object could be subjected to such public humiliation.
The childish retribution would be fine had this episode been some adorable, delightful kiddie episode, but the script is written by someone that hadn’t spoken to a child since the song Swlabr came out. Roy speaks like a lumbering old coot dismally pretending to be some kid, and the older characters aren’t any less embarrassing either. It’s really bad when the child actor Roy Barton comes off as the most qualified to be called an actor among the lot.
In the end, this episode feels like it’s made from a rejected script meant for some kiddie horror show—one that is rejected because the script resembled something written by a creepy old man that offers ice cream to kids that would look into the back of his van.