Warning: this review contains high amounts of sarcasm. Readers not familiar with sarcasm may experience anger, hostility and white hot rage (especially Protestants). Rest assured, this is a type of comedy, and no ill will is meant. Except for the stuff about Canadians, but they have it coming.
Dino Stamatopoulos, the creator of Moral Orel is one sick dude. And I like that about him. Of the few remaining innocent and pure images from my youth, Davy and Goliath was one that I never thought I’d see tarnished.
Then along comes Moral Orel, and another sacred memory falls. But I must admit, it’s a darned funny show. Orel is an 11-year-old boy growing up in a very religious community. He’s all about the Big G, and hangs on every word of Reverend Putty’s sermon (it’s claymation mind you, so the names all tie into that theme). But because he’s just a kid, and a Protestant to boot, his interpretations of how to live a moral life are very literal.
For instance, when he discovers the wonderful world of masturbation and gets caught, and Rev. Putty and his dad Clay explain that his baby batter should only be used to impregnate a woman, he comes to the same conclusion any young man in the same situation would — he should save it all in a cake frosting bag and squirt it into women while they sleep. Makes perfect sense, right?
Every episode ends with Orel learning the “correct” lesson from his dad, and his dad’s belt. I take that back, not all the episodes end that way. One exception was the Christmas episode – and I must say, it was the worst Christmas special I have ever seen.
I don’t mean worst like “Dear God, I hope I never see that again” – that I reserve for that Frosty the Snowman special with John Goodman doing Frosty’s voice and he becomes some Greenpeace warrior against a spray that melts snow. Nay, this is the worst as in “Dear God, how could they do that to the characters!” Never before have I been taken aback by an animated show like that. Even South Park creators Matt and Trey could take a lesson in cruelty here.