The Simpsons (Seasons Six To Ten)

Since my last post on The Simpsons, in which I covered my stupid opinions on the first five series, as well as how the show came into my life in the first place, my loyal readers have been crying out for me to continue my ramblings and share opinions on subsequent instalments of the yellow family’s adventures.  So here we are, doing The Simpsons again, but make it seasons six to ten.  You might be asking yourself how I got through five sequences of around 25 episodes in under four weeks, but that’s one of the good things about lockdown.  There’s nothing else to do.  I let an episode roll while I lounge on the sofa with a morning coffee before I log on to the laptop for a bit of working from home.  A couple more play over lunchtime when I briefly step away from the laptop to eat some food that I have to make at home in my own kitchen, and then tidy up afterwards as well.  And finally, once I am finished with the laptop for the day, I step away to eat dinner, in the same room I have been in the whole time, only this time I play some more Simpsons episodes, eyes on the animation while I shovel in another home-prepped meal.  Don’t worry, my actual evenings, spent watching more telly (in the same room, guys), are filled with more adult and aspirational boxsets, like Fargo or Lupin.  I’m not a savage that simply canes hundreds of instalments of the same thing.

Airing between 1994 and 1999, this is what I shall deem The Simpsons’ sophomore years.  Let’s be honest, I only watched these many years later, although I do recall we did actually as a family finally get Sky at one point and for a few expensive years we did watch premier episodes in real time.  I remember the Mayored To The Mob episode being trailed so endlessly that watching it live became an involuntary inevitability.  Worldwide, The Simpsons’ incomparable cultural influence was well established and undeniable.  They had the near perfect storytelling of the vintage seasons to build upon, heritage with the perfect balance of humour and heart and, goodwill surrounding their beloved characters.  Everyone wanted to know what was happening in Springfield.  Indeed, these are some of the absolute classic episodes, but their density among lesser instalments decreases with each progression from one series to the next.  From Lemon Of Troy and Homer The Great’s terrific heights, we slide down a slippery slope of relying on tropes that extinguish the original charm with repetition and unsatisfactory plotting.

Let’s just remind ourselves that I have no legitimate position from which to criticise any of this.  These series are still some of the best TV committed to my eyeballs.  Some sequences I have seen countless times yet they still bring irresistible amusement (such as all of Das Bus).  It’s only as a fan and through this slightly academic process of re-watching that I have been able to pinpoint where things began to lose their shine for me.  We shall go through each one in turn, exceeding only Comic Book Guy for geeky irrelevance.

Firstly, Homer has now become nothing but stupid.  Not just a bit silly, but utterly and unforgivably reckless.  When he is slightly childlike, yet ultimately sacrifices to put his family first, as in You Only Move Twice, he is at his best.  Or in The Joy Of Sect, where his impenetrability offsets cultish earnestness, playing him for laughs is an utter joy.  But when he’s repeatedly ruining Bart and Lisa’s lives, it starts to grate.  Often, he’s a foil to both sides of an argument, as in The Cartridge Family, but his actions veer into unpardonable territory.  He was always preferable as an everyman family man that at least had some, if only modest, aspirations.  This is why he’s always my least favourite character.

Compounding this is an increase in far-fetchedness.  The Simpsons are at their best dealing with the banal – literally managing the household budget or coping with the education system.  But to eke out plot, they have to go to new places or become new things.  Marge and Homer embark on CV-busting dalliances with any and every career:  Homer becomes a carny, Marge becomes a policewoman, Homer becomes a bodyguard, Marge becomes an estate agent, repeat to fade.  Even Bart and Lisa dabble in broadcasting, military academies and ice hockey.  As a cartoon, we have to return everything to how it was at the start, but, as we move on from season six, our routes to getting there become increasingly extreme.  By series seven, we’re having to take an epic approach, and this just isn’t the Evergreen Terrace I want to hang out on.

What makes this more curious is that The Simpsons have always had an outlet to exercise and exorcise nonsense: the Treehouse Of Horrors specials.  In fact, my favourite ever Simpsons story is The Genesis Tub, found in series eight’s anthology (actually instalment number VII), where Lisa accidentally creates life for a science fair.  The very meaning of our existence is lampooned, all while taking aim at Lutherans and teacher assessment.  With the rules out the window for these seasonal specials, couldn’t the standard episodes have retained more realism?  My preference for nuclear family humdrum is probably just a personal matter, but the more celeb cameos (playing themselves), the more destination episodes (New York, Australia, Japan) and the more Homer embraces and then abandons a different lifestyle, the less original charm remains, even though each episode still offers many moments of brilliance.

I don’t think I’m even whingeing about inconsistency.  I’m just a viewer, setting up a mythology in my mind about what rules a show should play by, applying those rules to the world without telling anyone, and then expecting something else to what I’m being offered.  Let’s end on a moment I had clean forgotten but which surprised me with its poignancy and hope to such an extent that my spine tingled.  In ’Round Springfield, Lisa says goodbye to Bleeding Gums Murphy.  He was never a popular character, but he represents to her a certain metropolitan quality that’s lacking in Springfield.  The show deals with loneliness, being remembered, and family.  Lisa only comes across her hero because of her brother absorbing her parents’ attention.  Appearing to her after his death, Bleeding Gums reprises the song Jazzman with Lisa, and I’ll have to admit here that it brought a tear to my eye.  I don’t even know why.  So, despite some imperfections, The Simpsons can still touch me all these years later.

 

Chilling Adventures Of Sabrina

Well, Halloween has been and gone and people are now trying to play Christmas songs in the office (which I have swiftly put a stop to), but this blog is only just getting round to covering Netflix’s big content play for All Hallows’ Eve 2018: Chilling Adventures Of Sabrina.  I wasn’t going to watch this at first, even though posters were everywhere.  A quick trip to see friends in Hamburg revealed that most of their rail network’s out-of-home display sites had been booked by this show, which, in German, actually has the same name.  But then I felt the need for something dark and gothic in my viewing life, and, before I knew it or could regain control of my actions, I was eyeballs deep in episode one.

Part of my resistance came from the fact I saw no need for Sabrina, The Teenage Witch to be overhauled.  That show lives on in Millennials’ memory for all the right reasons, dominating our viewing from 1996 to 2003 (coinciding exactly with the seven years I spent at secondary school).  But this new version was billed as darker, more relevant, and as closer to the original source material: some old Archie Comic thing we didn’t really have in the UK.  More than that, these Chilling Adventures also acknowledge one of the fundamental truths about witch folklore: these women were believed to sell their souls to the devil to obtain powers.  Therefore, one of the main points of divergence between the two imaginings of this teenage witch is the amount of devil.  The 1996 version had almost none.  The 2018 version is really rather devilish with an overload of devil.

Sabrina has been aged down, with perfect casting seeing Kiernan Shipka in the lead role.  As a child star known by me (and maybe you) for playing Don Draper’s bratty daughter in Mad Men, I keep expecting her to stamp her feet and throw a tantrum at Betty Draper’s bitchy comments, but her tantrums are instead directed at her aunts.  Aunt Hilda is our own beloved Lucy Davis, qualified for British national treasure status since appearing in The Office, while Miranda Otto brings luvvie steeliness to Aunt Zelda.  While the actresses are British and Australian respectively, Zelda seems to be an American to Hilda’s Englishwoman.  But then, cousin Ambrose, a sort of housebound, open robe-wearing smart-mouth, is very very English, whereas Sabrina is as American as apple pie.  This isn’t that interesting, but it’s one of many things that just seem a bit strange about the adventures.

Other things follow here.  Everything seems to be filmed through an Instagram filter.  The edges of the screen are all blurred and this is distracting for the first few episodes.  In addition, it’s hard to know when this is set.  The hair, the costumes, some of the lifestyle choices all smack of a bygone decade, maybe even the seventies.  You never see a smartphone or hear tell of the internet.  But this niggle ends up adding to the overall charm – what’s a bit of styling if it doesn’t add to the spooky atmosphere?  And spooky is just what Greendale is.  Dry ice roams the streets, while the school is staffed by all manner of paranormality.  And because witches aren’t enough, Sabrina’s friends all inevitably take on supernatural tendencies of their own, a bit like werewolves needing magical friends in Teen Wolf.  In fact, the likenesses with high school-based teen dramas featuring mythical creatures calls to mind that other great oeuvre in the genre, Buffy The Vampire Slayer.  Sadly, though, it’s only really Lucy Davis’s Aunt Hilda who has the witty lines, and she delivers each in a performance that makes you want her on screen the whole time.

Vamping things up, we also have Scottish actor Michelle Gomez, in a very sinister role as Miss Wardwell, a teacher possessed by Mrs Satan, bringing a lot of the darkness into the show.  I swear I can still see a twinkle in her eyes that betrays her madcap antics in Green Wing and The Book Group, but she remains, as ever, a joy to behold.

The ten episodes take us through pivotal times in Sabrina’s life as a school girl who is half mortal, half a witch.  Turning sixteen, she must decide between two destinies, and the initial tension comes from which she will choose: signing her name over to Satan, or remaining at normal school because there are boys there (and this time Harvey Kinkle isn’t played by someone who looks 35).  The pressure to pick overwhelms both Sabrina and us the viewers for the first few episodes, but once her initial decision is made, we move into a more episodic format, with different demons showing up for neat containment within the one-hour running time, and things feel a lot more fun because of it.  But the series’ climax builds back up to the initial struggle between humans and witches, culminating in a great set up for more seasons, and further potential to get even darker.

So, should you watch this?  It’s a yes from me if you love a teen melodrama, think real life is better with added supernatural powers or you simply want an antidote to the saccharine Christmas nonsense that starts to get wheeled out at this time of year.  Some elements of the Sabrina universe’s mythology are all over the place, as is the tone struck by the action, characters and dialogue, but the atmosphere almost makes up for this.  You’ll jump if you’re jumpy, but this is safe to watch in the dark and home alone.  Most of all, it’s a lot of fun and a welcome addition of difference to the Netflix canon.  I sadly can’t promise you an animatronic Salem jerking about, but Sabrina can promise you a good time while she has her chilling adventures.