The Review:

Rabbits have traditionally enjoyed success as the protagonists of popular media and folklore: the Easter Bunny, Br’er Rabbit, the characters of Watership Down, Peter Cottontail, and to a lesser extent…Eddie Rabbit. Max and Ruby–a sibling pair of obese rabbits–roundly fail this noble tradition in a variety of ways.

The series chronicles the piddling and oft stodgy activities of the title characters. Ruby, a seven year-old pretentious know-it-all, is left to be the sole caregiver of her three year-old brother, Max–a disobedient and unlikeable prankster who will always exact havoc when left to his own devices. And he is always left to his own devices. The parents are never spoken of or, indeed, seen. In essence, watching each episode is akin to watching a prequel to the episode in which Max and Ruby are taken into custody by a child welfare agency. The grandmother is seen on occasion, but only to stop by and patronize the little brats and then she’s on her way again.

In the spirit of fairness, the show seemingly attempts to warn of its annoyingness with its theme song, which I cite here in its entirety:

“Max and Ruby,
Ruby and Max.
Max and Ruby,
Ruby and Max.
Max and Ruby,
Ruby and little brother Max.
Max and Ruby!”



But I digress.


The series unabashedly follows this exact and unwavering formula:
a.) Ruby is engaged in a menial self-absorbed activity while “watching” (i.e., neglecting) Max.
b.) Max is preoccupied with a specific object or concept, usually a toy. Whatever this is, it will be the only one or two words Max will say in the episode, and he will repeat it several times.
c.) Ruby faces a dilemma related to her activity that she alone cannot resolve.
d.) When Ruby finally acknowledges whatever it is is Max is saying or playing with, she realizes it is the solution to her problem.

Ergo, a + b + c = d. Always and until the end of time.



For example, in the episode “Ruby’s Gingerbread House,” Ruby and her friend Louise are busied with the construction of a gingerbread house (a). Max is running around the house–unsupervised as usual–occasionally attempting to get Ruby to acknowledge his gummy worms, repeating all the while, “worms!” (b). Ruby realizes the sugar/joint compound mixture she has made is too weak to hold the walls of the gingerbread house together (c ). In a freak accident, Max’s gummy worms fall into the sugar paste and Ruby realizes they are the perfect candy adhesive to hold her walls and roof together (d).

The Kids:

I’m not going to lie to you. Younger children will eat the simple and predictable format of Max and Ruby up. They will identify with Max and will display a tendency towards regression as they seek to imitate him. When we finally got my two year old using crude sentences, she would revert to Max’s one-word sentence even after the smallest dose of the show (i.e., “banana!”). Heck, my three year old started doing it too. The effects do not seem to be long-lasting, but annoying just the same.

The Verdict: Mostly Harmless

Unlike most children’s shows I see for the first time–naively thinking they’re okay just to explain to crying children a few days later why we can’t watch them anymore–Max and Ruby has had somewhat of an opposite effect. I was extremely annoyed during the first couple of viewings, but I’ve grown to appreciate and tolerate the show more after some prolonged exposure. Was this its intended effect–to turn my brain into mush and manipulate grudging acceptance? Maybe. If so, touche Max and Ruby.

Parents may like the fact that the episodes are largely actions-based, meaning that the characters do more and talk less…for the most part. This is a welcome change of pace from all the yack-yack-yacking you get from most other children’s programming.