The fear of dolls, or pediophobia, was first expounded on in 1906.
The phobia was kicked into high gear in 1970 when Japanese roboticist Masahiro Mori came up with the Uncanny Valley Hypothesis—that if a doll is obviously not human, the human characteristics it possesses will be obvious and relatable.
But Mori theorized that if a doll achieves a particular level of human appearance something strange happens.
What happens when a doll hits a little too close to home?
When the doll is just a little too much like us?
Well, that’s when things get…funny.
TOO ME?
OR NOT TOO ME?
Doll Parts is show where the audience already has buy-in to these characters. We’ve known playthings like these since we were little kids. There’s familiarity, an affection, a nostalgia already hardwired into our psyche.
But what if we found out these little idealized versions of us were too much like us?
While they may look like better versions of our glamorous, best, superhero selves, the characters in Doll Parts are anything but.
Stevie’s not Barbie. She’s a power-mad elitist bitch.
Those action figures aren’t brave heroes, they’re a bunch of insecure egomaniacs.
The minis—the tiny doll families, kewpie dolls, eggles—are the working poor, the oppressed, and the increasingly pissed off.
This show is uncanny.
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