“In the not-too-distant future,
Next Sunday, A.D.,
There was a guy named Joel,
Not too different from you or me.”
For those familiar with this catchy tune, it instantly evokes memories of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K), the cult TV show that turned bad movie watching into an art form. For me, discovering MST3K in 1992 while incarcerated at Washington Corrections Center was more than just finding a funny show; it became an unexpected source of comfort and connection during a challenging time. Flipping through channels on my cell’s small TV, I stumbled upon an episode featuring Attack of the Giant Leeches. The black and white monster movie was a blast from the past, triggering childhood memories of late-night viewings with my brother. But this time, something was different. Silhouetted figures at the bottom of the screen were talking back to the movie, relentlessly and hilariously mocking its flaws. As a giant leech attacked a woman on screen, one of the silhouettes quipped, “OK, now the other side.” I couldn’t help but laugh. I was instantly drawn into the world of MST3K.
Finding Family and Spirituality Behind Bars
Serving 22 months for forgery and drug possession, I sought solace and community within the prison’s Native American spirituality circle. As a member of the Tlingit tribe from Alaska, I joined this group, known as the Tribal Sons. We met regularly to drum, sing, and participate in Inipi purification ceremonies in the sweat lodge on prison grounds. Despite my limited knowledge of my Tlingit heritage, the Tribal Sons embraced me. My Native identity was enough, and they patiently shared traditions from Plains tribes like Lakota and Ojibwe, guiding me on a path of cultural discovery.
The Inipi ceremony, or sweat lodge, was particularly transformative. During these ceremonies, red-hot stones heated the enclosed lodge, filling it with intense steam and darkness punctuated only by the glow of the stones. My first experience was overwhelming. Gasping for cooler air near the ground, the heat felt like a physical weight. Amidst the discomfort, the resonant sound of singing and prayers to Wakan Tanka, Grandfather Sky, filled the lodge. “A’ho!” I’d shout, a word that became my affirmation of solidarity, meaning “I stand with you.” In the crucible of the sweat lodge, worldly concerns faded. Identity, past, and ego dissolved, leaving only the present moment of shared experience, a connection to Grandmother Earth and Grandfather Sky. It was a powerful, liberating feeling that gradually shifted my perspective and way of thinking.
Members of the Tribal Sons Native American spirituality circle at Washington Corrections Center near the sweat lodge at the 2017 change of seasons Inipi ceremony. The author, Frank Hopper, stands to the right in the black t-shirt.
The Secret Comfort of MST3K and Tom Servo
While deeply involved in the Tribal Sons, I kept my newfound love for Mystery Science Theater 3000 to myself. MST3K felt like a guilty pleasure, a connection to my youth in the 60s and 70s when assimilation was the dominant expectation for Native Americans. Having found a renewed sense of identity in the sweat lodge, MST3K seemed to belong to a past self, a less “warriorlike” part of my life.
The premise of MST3K is delightfully absurd: Joel Robinson, a janitor at Gizmonic Institute, is kidnapped by mad scientists and forced to watch terrible movies on the Satellite of Love. To maintain his sanity, Joel builds robot companions, including the witty and sarcastic Tom Servo, and Crow T. Robot. Together, Joel, Tom Servo, and Crow riff on the movies, turning cinematic garbage into comedic gold and resisting their captors through humor.
MST3K resonated with me on a personal level, reminding me of childhood movie nights with my older brother Del. He had a knack for making even scary monster movies funny with his running commentary. Alone, those films were frightening, but with Del’s humor, they became entertaining. He taught me that humor could be a shield, a form of courage. Watching MST3K, especially the banter of Tom Servo and Crow, felt like having Del back, offering a sense of safety and comfort. It was a private, cherished experience.
An Unexpected Bridge: MST3K Supports Native American Youth
Over the years, my MST3K fandom continued through various iterations of the show. In 2019, I even attended a live performance in Seattle, witnessing Joel Hodgson, the show’s creator, reprising his role as Joel Robinson. Then, I came across an article detailing MST3K’s fundraiser for Migizi, a Native American youth center in Minneapolis that had been devastated by fire during the 2020 riots. MST3K had raised over $50,000 to support Migizi’s rebuilding efforts.
This revelation stunned me. The two significant parts of my prison experience – Native American spirituality and MST3K – suddenly intersected. It was as if two separate, beloved branches of my life had unexpectedly connected. Discovering this link was exhilarating.
Jacob Vang, Migizi’s director of marketing and communications, explained that MST3K created a donation account through GiveMN and rallied fans on their website. Donors received early access to new riffed shorts produced with donated labor, released publicly on Indigenous People’s Day. Driven to learn more and express my gratitude, I connected with Joel Hodgson through Vang and Sharyl Volpe from Alternaversal, the production company. Speaking to Joel on the phone was surreal.
“This really started after the George Floyd riots,” Joel explained, noting MST3K’s Minneapolis origins. Yvonne Freese, an MST3K cast member living in Minneapolis, brought Migizi to his attention. Yvonne shared her firsthand experience of the community response to George Floyd’s murder, including helping to board up businesses and support those in need. “I suggested we partner with Migizi to give something back,” Yvonne said. “And Joel really wanted to do something to let the community know we care.”
Crow T. Robot: A Native American Connection
In our conversation, Joel also revealed a surprising detail: the robot character Crow T. Robot was named after a Native American child. “He’s named after a Native kid named Tommy Crow,” Joel said. “I always thought that was such a cool name.”
“That is cool!” I agreed. Crow, the wisecracking robot, was the very silhouette who delivered the first MST3K riff I ever heard in prison. Learning about this Native American connection deepened my appreciation for the show. I felt compelled to share my story with Joel.
“When I was in prison, the show meant a lot to me,” I told him, explaining how MST3K offered comfort and showed me “how I could use humor as a form of resistance.” I thanked him for his work and the positive impact it had.
“Hey, of course, man. I really appreciate it,” Joel responded. “It’s super important to me that we try to represent Native people. It means a lot to me. So thank you.”
Minneapolis, MST3K’s birthplace, is also a significant location for Native American activism, the birthplace of the American Indian Movement (AIM), and a center for resistance against projects like the Enbridge Line 3 pipeline. It’s a city grappling with issues of racial injustice, yet it’s also the origin of a show that offered laughter and solace in an unlikely place like a prison cell. MST3K, with its unexpected Native American connections and charitable heart, proved to be more than just a goofy TV show.
“A’ho, MST3K!”
CORRECTION: This article was updated at 1:35 p.m. Aug. 6, 2021, to correct the name of the organization GiveMN. Read our corrections policy here.
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Frank Hopper , Tlingit, is a freelance Native journalist born in Juneau, Alaska, now living in Tacoma, Washington. His work appears in Last Real Indians, The Stranger, and Indian Country Today. His self-titled YouTube channel features videos about Native issues. He can be reached at [email protected]. |
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