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Simpsons so funny, it's almost scary
By David Bianculli
New York Daily News
Posted November 2 2002
What's scary about the annual Simpsons Halloween special, "Treehouse of Horror XIII," and the upcoming episodes, is how the series has maintained its quality, year after year.
Thirteen years in, and every show has at least one thing that catches me by surprise and makes me laugh out loud.
"Treehouse of Horror XIII" this year shows up Sunday night at 8, three days after Halloween.
In "Treehouse," we get three new fanciful and gruesome stories, where even the malleable rules of Springfield are totally disregarded.
This year, a spoof of The Island of Dr. Moreau puts Dr. Hibbert in the mad scientist's role, and very soon has polite Ned Flanders walking around as a half-man, half-cow. Disturbing? Not so much as the sight of Homer milking him, before Homer himself is turned into a walrus, and Marge into a blue-skinned feline. Marge's grunt, it turns out, sounds very much like a purr anyway.
Even though it's an all-new "Treehouse," and arrives in November, the network says the following week's show is the season premiere. In that episode, Homer Simpson goes to the Rolling Stones' Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy Camp.
"Rule No. 1," announces a defiant, animated Mick Jagger, to the delight of Homer and his fantasy-camp friends. "There are no rules!"
Mick then adds, "Rule No. 2: No outside food."
Jagger, Keith Richards, Tom Petty, Elvis Costello, Lenny Kravitz and Brian Setzer all play themselves. (We even get to see them recording their vocal parts, in a rare but welcome peek behind the series' fourth wall.)
It's difficult not to take The Simpsons for granted. It's been around since 1989, when it was launched as a Christmas special. It's the oldest current comedy on prime-time television, and the seventh-oldest series, period.
It's been around longer than Law & Order -- many years longer, if you count the fact that the Simpsons began as animated segments on Fox's Tracey Ullman Show.
In another of this Sunday's "Treehouse" tales, there's an allusion to those crudely drawn beginnings. In a story where Homer clones dozens of copies of himself, one copy turns out to be sharp-edged, exaggerated and visually inferior, just like the early Homer on Ullman's show.
Today, creator Matt Groening's characters -- and influence -- are everywhere, from toys to Burger King giveaways.
Thirteen years is a very long time. For this series and its viewers, though, it's anything but an unlucky number. |
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Neal Justin: All hail 'The Simpsons'
Neal Justin
Published Nov. 1, 2002 NEA01
Afew years ago, I was speaking to a college class when one student asked a great question: What ever happened to classic cartoons?
I immediately prepared to launch into a loving tribute to my childhood heroes: Bugs Bunny, Snagglepuss, the Great Grape Ape, Foghorn Leghorn.
Unfortunately, the kid wasn't done talking.
"I mean, how could they ever get rid of 'Transformers'?"
The only thing that could have salvaged the moment would have been an Acme Co. anvil dropping out of the sky and landing on the knucklehead. Transform this, buddy!
My faith in the younger generation was renewed recently during yet another college visit. (I'm also available for bar mitzvahs and anniversaries.)
The class only wanted to talk about "The Simpsons." That included youngsters who insist they never watch television, a group I suspect is made up of the same people who claim to read, and understand, William Faulkner.
For 13 years, young people have embraced "The Simpsons" as their own -- and for 13 years, they couldn't be more right.
The show began during my senior year in college, and I still remember buying a Bart T-shirt for five bucks from a street vendor in Chicago's Wrigleyville. Never mind that I looked like a complete idiot. I was part of the Bart generation!
What's remarkable is that today's youth, usually desperate to separate themselves from 30somethings like me, are just as eager to join the club as the show kicks off yet another season Sunday.
This for a family whose members haven't changed much (aside from Homer, who gets dumber every year) and still are voiced by the same performers (a woefully underappreciated gang), for a show that hasn't changed its opening sequence since Day One (why mess with perfection?).
What has changed -- and keeps the comedy fresh -- is a revolving door of behind-the-scenes geniuses. More than 85 writers and 64 producers have worked on "The Simpsons" since it first appeared in 1989. The stories have gotten more jokey and outrageous over the years -- I prefer the more sentimental episodes from the early '90s -- but how can you argue when you're still falling off your couch in laughter?
In this weekend's annual Halloween episode, the show manages to skewer Jerry Lewis, "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," "Fantasy Island," Westerns, the Grammys, "The Time Machine," "Apocalypse Now," Bill Cosby, gun control and "Jerry Maguire." Plus, there's Homer milking Ned Flanders as a half-man, half-cow; a playground slide made out of guns, and an evil hammock -- something for kids of all ages.
Next week's episode is even better. It's a fine example of how "The Simpsons" not only covers pop culture, but has become a part of it.
An intoxicated Homer ends up on "Taxicab Conversations," confessing that he regrets giving up his rock-star dreams. The family chips in to send him to rock 'n' roll camp, a reward for his patience over the years. "You take me to places you hate," Lisa says, "like museums, plays and Olive Garden."
Once at camp, Homer mixes it up with some of music's biggest legends, most of whom are obviously giddy to be a part of "The Simpsons" legacy. Mick Jagger, as the camp's diligent headmaster, is a particular treat, teaching the campers how to strut in style. When Homer rips off Elvis Costello's glasses, the rocker gasps: "My image!!!"
Guys like this aren't going to do any ol' TV program, but they are well aware that "The Simpsons" is something special, a show that appeals to them and their children (and in Jagger's case, his great-great-great grandchildren).
Fortunately, there's every sign that "The Simpsons" will be around for future generations to discover and call their own, while other shows burn out.
My favorite moment in Sunday's Halloween episode is in a bit called "Send in the Clones." By the end of the story, hundreds of Homers of all shapes and sizes roaming the landscape. Look carefully and you may spot a recognizable figure: It's Peter Griffin, from Fox's now-defunct "Family Guy," an outrageous cartoon that had its moment in the sun and then faded away before you could say "Eat my shorts."
With that little dig in mind, here's a toast to TV's greatest miracle. Mmmmmm . . . Toast.
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CHAT ROOM aka THE FUN HOUSE] [
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