20 Years of The Simpsons: A Life in Yellow
In fact, that’s something that really bothers me about even a classic like Cheers. Back in those old days, when Diane or Frasier would reference a literary work or bring in any sort of knowledge from outside the Cheers continuum, the joke would not be about the reference, but rather about the fact that they were making a reference that people didn’t understand. The joke was on them, not on the people who didn’t get it. The sitcom, as a genre, had a strong anti-intellectual bent for most of its existence. Between that and the glacial pacing, I find most (not all) pre-Simpsons sitcoms to be a rough slog. Try watching Who’s the Boss?—you can grow a passable mustache in between the actual jokes.
The Simpsons switched it up with lightning pacing and a strong pop-cultural grounding. It’s not as evident in the earliest episodes, which seem slow by today’s standards, but at the time it was almost dizzying. The jokes came fast, and there would be extra jokes in the background that maybe you didn’t see on your first viewing, and then jokes that you would only catch if you knew the movie or literary work they were referencing. Sometimes the jokes came out in a way that felt like natural conversation – there wasn’t a pause after every funny line to let it sink in. That allowed for a more organic kind of humor. It sounded like the way people talk to each other, in a way that we rarely saw in television comedy.
And the references, oh, the references. The Simpsons assumed that you had seen and read other
things at some point in your life. And not recent things, either – one early episode was based around an extended Patton homage, and another borrowed a couple of characters from the French Manon of the Spring. When they did go to something recent, they usually made pretty good choices – a Terminator 2 reference in Season Three holds up quite well. I liked it best when they just went old-school though – references to comedians from the 1950’s, old-time character actors, dated advertising campaigns, the Dumont Network. It gave the series roots, in a way. And you didn’t need to know that, for example, the smarmy salesman was an homage to Frank Burns, because he was funny in its own right. But the more you know, the funnier it is.
things at some point in your life. And not recent things, either – one early episode was based around an extended Patton homage, and another borrowed a couple of characters from the French Manon of the Spring. When they did go to something recent, they usually made pretty good choices – a Terminator 2 reference in Season Three holds up quite well. I liked it best when they just went old-school though – references to comedians from the 1950’s, old-time character actors, dated advertising campaigns, the Dumont Network. It gave the series roots, in a way. And you didn’t need to know that, for example, the smarmy salesman was an homage to Frank Burns, because he was funny in its own right. But the more you know, the funnier it is.Back then, TV executives assumed that The Simpsons would lead to a wave of primetime animation, and they were wrong. Remember those days? Family Dog? Capital Critters? Fish Police? Those shows are better known for appearing on tombstones in one of the annual “Treehouse of Horror” episodes than they are for having actually been on TV at one time. No, the real legacy of The Simpsons is in live-action comedy.
For one thing, it started the death knell of the laugh track. These days, only a handful of comedies still use them, and they’re almost all on CBS. And can you imagine today’s shows even working with a laugh track? Imagine 30 Rock slowed down to let each joke sink in. And then you’d have applause every time Tracy joined a scene. That last one happens in my house, true, but that’s my own personal choice. Try and picture a laugh track version of The Office, and it’ll make you a little bit sick.
The Simpsons helped pull TV comedy out of the old format, filmed in front of a studio audience with limited sets. Granted, they had an advantage with the unlimited location budget afforded to animation, but I think the point stands. Somebody actually had to do a show that wasn’t limited to three rooms of the house and show how you can take advantage of geography. The single-camera sitcom is the way to mimic The Simpsons in live-action, shooting anywhere, using actual rooms with walls, going outside, etc. The old multiple-camera format is all but dead, and these days it’s jarring to see a comedy that’s shot on a soundstage with a missing wall that limits shooting angles. (Once again, these shows really only exist on CBS now.)
The fact is, TV comedy would look so much different if it weren’t for The Simpsons. The frenetic pacing and pop-cultural immersion of 30 Rock, the offhand jokes in The Office, the expansive supporting cast of Scrubs, the self-referential nature of How I Met Your Mother, the surrealism of Better Off Ted – I don’t know that these would exist without The Simpsons. In the last twenty years, no other series has had as much influence, with the possible exception of Survivor, and that literally created a genre. Comedy, and really all of television, is better off for having The Simpsons as part of its DNA.
If it’s impossible to picture TV without The Simpsons, it’s no easier to picture my life without it. I was a freshman in high school when the show premiered, and something just clicked. Before the school year was up, I had convinced no fewer than three teachers to show a Simpsons episode as part of class. My Western Civilization teacher started calling me “Bart”, not because of any behavioral issues, but because I was always wearing one Simpons shirt or another. I remember an English assignment to rewrite a scene from Macbeth by changing the setting, and I turned it into a conversation between Bart and Homer.
I researched the show obsessively, which was incredibly difficult in those pre-Internet days. Retracing creator Matt Groening’s career led me to his Life in Hell comic strip, which turned me on to a lot of alternative cartoonists. And being a 15-year-old kid in Michigan, before Google was a twinkle in anybody’s eye, it was a pain in the ass to follow that cartooning scene. I’m not entirely sure that it’s healthy to own a copy of The Griffith Observatory before you’re shaving on a regular basis, but there you go.Back then, I pored over each episode like some kind of Talmudic scholar, scouring the background and trying to find jokes in background and decode the references that I didn’t quite catch. I was determined to understand every joke in every episode. And whether that was ultimately for good or for ill, it’s safe to say that I wouldn’t have the ability or the commitment to read up on theoretical physics in order to better understand Lost or to micro-analyze The Venture Bros. I wouldn’t be writing about TV if it weren’t for The Simpsons, and in fact, I probably wouldn’t even know how.
The friends I had in high school (and believe me, when you’re sixteen years old and you’re special-ordering a VHS copy of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre because you read that they based a Season Two episode around it, there ain’t many of those), were people I met because of The Simpsons. It was strange – the way the show was so popular right from the beginning, but the dedicated fans developed their own code anyway. Everybody watched the show, but only a few of us knew that the two guys who hung out at Moe’s Tavern were named Sam and Larry. Only the diehards realized how funny Principal Skinner was. While the casual viewers loved Bart’s prank calls, we were freaking out when Albert Brooks did a voice. (“This is the best RV you’re ever gonna own, and I don’t mean that in a good way. It’s this or a wagon.”) We found each other. Though Simpsons fandom is no longer a deal-breaker for me in terms of making friends, it certainly weighs heavily into the process.
I’m not sure where I’d be if I hadn’t had something to focus on during those years. To call my high school years “awkward” would be putting it kindly. I know for a fact that Season Four’s “I Love Lisa” got me through my first major heartbreak. It doesn’t matter how miserable you are, “It says you ‘Choo-choo-choose’ me, and there’s a picture of a train”, will always make you laugh. The Simpsons was there for a weird kid with low self-esteem, crippling shyness, and no socially acceptable skills. For that alone, I will always love the show.
The Simpsons worked its way into the national vocabulary. “D’oh” is actually in the Oxford English Dictionary. For us fans, though, it bleeds in so deeply to even casual conversation. When somebody’s in a bad mood, you respond with “Surly looks out for one guy: Surly.” An obvious point is often followed by “Then why did I have the bowl, Bart? Why did I have the bowl?” You acknowledge a request with “Anything you want, birthday boy.” “My cat’s breath smells like cat food”, “You steam a good ham”, even “Mmmm…. Sacrilicious.” – they work their way so naturally into conversation, that it’s hard to remember when you didn’t have access to a million Simpsons quotes. (I once ended a letter to an estranged family member with the words of Moe the bartender: “I’m a well wisher, in that I don’t wish you any specific harm.” I am more proud of that than is seemly.)
I’m a sucker for Simpsons merchandise. I have the entire “World of Springfield” action figure line
from a few years back, boasting more than 150 figures, from Homer all the way down to Bumblebee Man, Herman (the one-armed owner of “Herman’s Military Antiques”), and Professor Stephen Hawking. It is a wall of yellow, and I love it. Then there are some treasured pieces, like the Bart rag doll autographed by Matt Groening, the “Maggie’s First Word” t-shirt I won in a radio contest, and the Homer Simpson remote caddy, which is the first thing my best friend ever gave me.
from a few years back, boasting more than 150 figures, from Homer all the way down to Bumblebee Man, Herman (the one-armed owner of “Herman’s Military Antiques”), and Professor Stephen Hawking. It is a wall of yellow, and I love it. Then there are some treasured pieces, like the Bart rag doll autographed by Matt Groening, the “Maggie’s First Word” t-shirt I won in a radio contest, and the Homer Simpson remote caddy, which is the first thing my best friend ever gave me. And I realize that it’s pretty much a requirement that longtime fans complain that the show isn’t as good as it used to be. Well, maybe it isn’t. But I firmly consider Seasons Four through Eight to be the best run of any TV series ever. So, you know, not being as good as the best ever, that’s not necessarily so bad. And it’s true, not every episode is a perfect diamond, but they still have a ridiculously high hit-to-miss ratio. I also find that I put a certain pressure on the new episodes. There’s always a chance that it could be the next “Homer’s Enemy” or “You Only Move Twice”. But even episodes that disappointed me the first time are darned funny the second time around. Just about every one of those 450 episodes has at least one classic joke, half-a-dozen really funny lines, and a dynamite sight gag or two.
Besides that, it’s been 20 years. The Simpsons can’t remain in a state of stasis, aimed at aging comedy nerds like myself. If it seems to me like they’re going for the easy laugh sometimes, I just have to remember that there’s a new audience growing up with The Simpsons, and some of these jokes are for them. 2007’s excellent Simpsons Movie more than proves there’s still plenty of gas in the tank, even after all these years.
The Simpsons is more than just Springfield’s First Family. It’s more than Homer’s mishaps, Bart’s pranks, Lisa’s protesting, Marge’s fretting, or Maggie’s continuing pre-verbal state. It changed TV, and for some of us, it changed our lives.Thanks to everybody involved with the creation and production of The Simpsons. I’m not sure I can properly thank you for all the entertainment, but I’m doing my best.
Pingback: Happy 25th Anniversary to The Simpsons! | Spunky Bean