Pleasantville: The Way We Were

I remember seeing this movie back in 1998, thinking that I was going to see a comedy about two modern kids who get sucked into the world of a 50s TV show. Unfortunately, I was way too young to appreciate what the film was really about (I wasn't even in high school at the time). Pleasantville does in fact follow twins David and Jennifer, two 90's era teenagers, as they are forced to live in a 50s sitcom, and there are definitely comedic elements, but this movie is so much more than that. By forcing the real (modernity is immaterial) onto our nostalgia, we are forced to see that things probably aren't as wholesome as we choose to remember them. But if they were, who would have been happy like that?

David and Jennifer don't have the "ideal" lives. Their high school teachers warn them of the dangers that await them in the real world, while their parents are divorced and can barely stand each other. Each twin deals with their situation differently; Jennifer acts like a slut by wearing the most provocative clothing available and submitting herself to anyone in return for "popularity". David, on the other hand, retreats into Pleasantville, a sitcom from the 50s where everything is perfect and pleasant. Everyone gets along, the high school basketball team is undefeated, no one is homeless, and everyone is happy. David sees this as the perfect life, and uses it as a substitute for his own.

One fateful night, when fighting over the TV remote (the film has some interesting things to say about television, in addition to nestalgia), the twins end up breaking the remote, rendering their TV unworkable. Soon, a weird TV repair man shows up and gives them a magic remote that sucks the pair right into the world of Pleasantville, where they, along with the entire world, are shaded in black and white. Both David and Jennifer are distraught by this turn of events, but for entirely different reasons. Jennifer is put off by the way of life; she is forced to eat fatty foods and wear poodle skirts. David, however, is afraid of ruining the perfect world that he adores so much. At first, he tries to preserve Pleasantville as best he can by coaching Jennifer on what the character she is inhabiting is "supposed" to do. But David cannot possibly contain Jennifer's desires to be herself.

Before going on, let me list a few things that are unheard of in Pleasantville: toilets, fire, women's rights, rain, cursing, minorities, life outside of the town, books (or at least books with writing inside them), change, and sex. It is this last item that Jennifer introduces to the unsuspecting ingenue of a basketball team captain. Yeah, in this world, men can be ingenues too (who says there is no gender equality there?! Oh wait, I do). This one act sets off a chain reaction that forces the entire town to reevaluate what they believe in. People start realizing that they want more than what they had, whether it be because they are bored with routine, or because they realize that there is a whole range of emotions that they could be feeling.

When I wrote about WALL-E, I commented on how thin the line between utopia and dystopia is, and that sentiment is very appropriate here. Everyone thinks they're happy in the town of Pleasantville, but that is because they don't know of any other way to think. Even David quickly becomes disenchanted with the world he once saw as perfect. People may be happy, but they lack free will. But when David and Jennifer begin introducing reality to the innocent town people, color begins seeping into the black and white world.

People acquire color when they accept change; most of the Pleasantville natives do so by accepting their sexuality, but other desires allow for the change as well. Mr. Johnson, the local soda shop owner, discovers an artistic creativity in himself that makes him want something more than the duty of cooking burgers every night, while Betty Parker, the mother of David and Jennifer's characters in the show (not to be confused with their actual real-world mother) learns that her life as a housewife is boring (ok, so she also has a sexual experience serve as the catalyst for her colorization, but there was more to it than just that). David and Jennifer, though, have to find other ways of getting color, because they are already aware of their sexuality. They have to make actual changes to their own lives and cease being kids and become adults (the scene that shows the morning after David and Margaret's night at Lover's Lane, where all the other black-and-white kids gained color while David sits looking at his reflection in the pond breaks my heart every time).

And of course, the town elders (I really don't want to refer to them as the rich white men of the town, but that is who the elders would be in a 50s sitcom) want to do everything in their power to prevent these changes. Director Gary Ross correctly noted that these are the people with the most to lose because they are waited upon hand and foot by their wives and they are respected by their children (rock and roll and counterculture also begins to establish itself when David and Jennifer show up). And the parallels between real world oppression and the attempts by the "true citizens of Pleasantville" is the subject of the next post.

Up next: Struggling to remain Pleasant...

The Good Old Days Weren't Always Good

Next, I want to look at worlds that examine the past and point out that our nostalgia for simpler times is probably misplaced. To do this, I will examine Pleasantville and Mad Men, a wonderful movie and television series (if I think of anything else, I will include it as well).

Each one points out the downsides of their respective eras in different ways; Pleasantville demonstrates that the 50s weren't as idyllic as we believe them to be, no matter what old television shows like The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet might tell us. The movie is about two teenagers from the 90s being sucked into a 50s-era TV show, and completely ruining the "utopian" setting. However, in doing so, they make the characters human.

Mad Men takes place in the 60s, and is about the change from the conformist 50s to the more liberal 60s and 70s, and is examined through the eyes of advertising executives on Madison Avenue. The series looks at how these men and their families try to be happy, because they believe that they have everything, and should be happy, but under the surface, darkness lurks in everyone. The series points out the radically different cultural norms by specifically not pointing them out, leaving it up to the viewer to expect one thing, only to be amazed when the reaction defies what we consider to be morally right.

Up next: TV Land...

Futurama: The End?

So, for whatever reason, FOX lost faith in Futurama; after a few years of changing timeslots and poor promotion, the show got canceled. But then, after it became one of the most popular shows on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim, FOX commissioned four new Futurama direct-to-DVD movies (isn't it weird how this and two other FOX shows were somehow revived [Firefly and Family Guy], and it is likely that another canceled-before-its-time FOX show, Arrested Development, is getting a second chance). So far, two have been released, and while they haven't been as good as the show was at its best, they have certainly been worthwhile.

The first, Bender's Big Score, told the complicated story of the crew discovering the secret of time travel. After discovering a tattoo on Fry's ass that holds the code for opening a time sphere, a group of greedy aliens exploit it to force Bender to go back in time and steal priceless artifacts. However, as usually happens with time travel, an elaborate time loop story is created, as Fry and Bender repeatedly go back in time, creating rather insane circumstances (some of which negate the carefully plotted backstory that was established in the series, but I'm nitpicking).

The other, The Beast With A Billion Backs, deals with the final twist of Big Score. After a rift in the space-time continuum is created due to the overuse of time travel, the world is confronted with an enormous monster who offers a kind of bizarre paradise.

Big Score was very much about reintroducing us to the world of Futurama; the writers tried to squeeze in nearly every recurring character into the two-hour span, which ultimately worked against the story. It was certainly nice to see everyone again, but many of the characters seemed out of place. Beast was much more of a normal episode of the show, in the sense that the story was tighter. However, both felt like a loosely told collection of four episodes as opposed to one story (the movies will eventually be broken down into four episodes each and broadcast on Comedy Central). This isn't the worst flaw ever, but subplots seem to come and go somewhat abruptly.

Still, these movies have been fun so far, and based on the trailer for the upcoming Bender's Game, the fun will keep on coming. Based on the events of Big Score, we will get a little closure on some of the overarching plot elements (though the events of Beast somewhat ignored the Fry/Leela development in Big Score). The final movie, Into the Wild Green Yonder, is supposed to tie up all the loose ends, and based on a few things I've heard about it, it should be pretty great.

Hopefully, if everything works out, we may get a little more Futurama, but the producers have said that if Green Yonder is the last thing they do with the Futurama universe, they will be happy with the ending, and I'm guessing we will too.

Up next: Nostalgia...

Futurama: Life, the Universe, and Everything

With very few exceptions, every episode of Futurama is a self-contained story, some of which deal with "future issues", some of which are intended to be fun dalliances in a world where anything is technologically possible, and some forward the overall story of the series. Each category has its share of stellar episodes, and even the most bizarre purely fun episodes have some tie to the show's mythology, while the most serious of mythology episodes (I'm looking at you, "Jurassic Bark") are funny.

Episodes like "Fry and the Slurm Factory" and "Parasites Lost" exist almost solely as parodies of popular culture. If it isn't obvious from the name, "Slurm Factory" spoofs "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory", except in this case, the Planet Express crew wins a factory tour of the galaxy's most popular soft drink. This episode was the first season finale, and throughout the first year (and proceeding throughout the series), there were plenty of references to the drink, and the episode effectively took a background aspect of Futurama and brought it to the forefront. And although the horrific twist at the end never gets mentioned again, I'm pretty sure that the only character who drinks Slurm after this episode is Fry, who will consume anything that tastes good, no matter the origin.

"Parasites Lost" is a Fantastic Voyage parody which uses the plot of the other characters creating miniature robotic versions of themselves (shrinking is too expensive; tiny atoms are out of the Professor's price range) to go into Fry's body to further the Fry/Leela non-relationship. "Parasites" also introduces the holophoner, which plays a major role in the final episode.

These episodes, along with the various other purely stand-alone stories, help build the world of the future by emphasizing background characters and elements. During their down time, the Planet Express crew enjoy watching the all-robot soap opera All My Circuits, starring the pompous Calculon, and The Scary Door, which is a rip-off of that twilighty show about that zone from the 20th century (Simpsons reference!). The characters go to eat at Elzar's restaurant, who is a sleazy Emeril Lagasse analogue, deal with invasions from the aliens of Omicron Persei VIII (they represent the villainous aliens from any invasion movie), and deal with the buffoonery of Captain Zapp Brannigan, a high-ranking military officer who is obsessed with Leela and has less sense than Fry.

There are a few episodes that deal with issues, such as "A Big Piece of Garbage", wherein all the trash from the 20th century comes back to haunt the people of the year 3000, or "Crimes of the Hot", dealing with global warming. Episodes like these make a point about how we do things in the 20th century, claiming that we are inefficient and short-sighted, then go on to show that human nature will never change, when the characters in the show act equally inefficiently and short-sighted. In "Garbage", we learn that in the future, waste disposal is near perfect, but when a giant ball of garbage that was launched into space at the beginning of the 21st century is on its way back to Earth, the only way to stop it is to build an even bigger ball of garbage to shoot at the returning one. Lines like, "Your 20th century garbage-making skills have saved us all" and "[The garbage ball] is a problem for the people living 1,000 years from now" show just how far Groening and co. expect we won't come in 1,000 years.

But as I've been saying, there is an over-arching story going on in Futurama. Or I guess I should say that there are a few over-arching stories. The one that comes up the most is Fry's romantic pursuit of Leela; although it appears fruitless for the first few years, by the series' end, it looks like the guy may actually have a shot (especially in light of the events of "The Farnsworth Parabox", which shows us what would have happened had an insignificant coin toss turned out differnetly). The other important stories involve Fry's accident and the effect of his absence on the world of the 20th century. Two episodes in the series, "The Day the Earth Stood Stupid" and "The Why of Fry" (which are supplemented by a hilarious, but disturbing event of "Roswell That Ends Well") shed light on the fact that Fry was helped into the cryogenic freezer, as opposed to falling in due to dumb luck. They also introduce us to the villainous race called the Brainspawn, and show that Leela's pet Nibbler is more than he appears to be.

The hapless Fry has an important role to play in the future, but his absence is certainly felt in the past. In "Jurassic Bark" and "Luck of the Fryish", flashbacks show the viewers the impact that Fry's mysterious disappearance had on his family and friends. Despite his initial sentiment upon waking up in 2999 expressing his happiness in never having to see his friends and family again (most likely thinking they would be just as happy not to see him), it turns out that he was sorely missed. "Bark" and "Fryish" are two of the most emotional episodes in the series. I don't want to ruin anything, but each one builds an idea in our minds that a certain thing will come to pass, only to have the final flashback pull the rug out from under our feet. The guy who introduced me to Futurama refuses to watch "Jurassic Bark" because the ending is too upsetting for him.

Up next: What the future holds...

Futurama: Don't Fight The Future

So after The Simpsons had earned FOX more money than they could count and transformed the channel into an actual competitor for NBC, ABC, and CBS, Matt Groening was given the chance to create another future classic (no pun intended) for the network. This time, we got Futurama, which told the story of Phillip Fry, a directionless delivery boy at the turn of the 21st century who, due to a freak accident (or was it?) at a cryogenics lab, wakes up on December 31st, 2999. At first glance, the world is a completely different place, but as Fry tries to get acclimated to his new world, he learns just how similar the past and future truly are.

The first two relationships that Fry develops in the new era are with Leela, a one-eyed humanoid with a fast fists and little humor, and Bender, a boorish alcohol chugging robot. These three make up the core group of the core cast (I know that sounds a little confusing); they are the characters featured on every single promotional item, and they make up the focus of many episodes. Other major characters include Prof. Farnsworth, Fry's great-great-great...great-great-great...-great-grand-nephew. The Professor is at least 150 years old, and he is beyond senile, and possibly diabolical. The Professor owns the spaceship the crew uses to make interplanetary deliveries (even in the future, Fry is still a delivery boy), and in episodes that do not involve deliveries, his crackpot inventions and half-baked schemes tend to forward the plot. Hermes Conrad is the Bureaucrat of the office (in the year 3000, Bureaucrat is a paid position, which, sadly, isn't too different from life today). Amy Wong is the airheaded intern whose only purpose is to serve as spare parts for the Professor. Finally, staff physician Dr. John Zoidberg is an anthropomorphic crustacean who speaks like a stereotypical Hasidic Jew.

Throughout the course of the series, the Planet Express crew deal with government inefficiency and corruption in their dealings with Earth President Richard Nixon's Head (20th century figures make appearances as preserved heads in jars, and Nixon exploited a loophole stating that noBODY may hold the office of presidency for more than two terms). They learn that "military intelligence" truly is an oxymoron when they encounter Zapp Brannigan, a Captain Kirk analogue who has received the full "stereotypical Shatner" treatment, and is willing to invade a planet that has no natural resources or strategic advantages, only because everything they believe in goes against what we believe in. The group watches a trashy soap opera featuring an over-acting robot, and racism still runs deep (only now, robots are the disenfranchised class).

I'm pretty sure that Matt Groening said something to the effect of The Simpsons is a fantasy show, while Futurama is real life. Though that sounds crazy if one were to look only at the surface of the two shows, with The Simpsons grounded in the present and Futurama being a crazy sci-fi, there was a much bigger plan at play in Futurama that told an overarching story and had a continuity that served to make an ongoing commentary of our world, as opposed to an episode-by-episode look at society.

Up next: Real life...

The Simpsons: Life In Springfield

Before I actually say anything meaningful, I just want to say that, when I was a little kid, I thought that The Simpsons took place in Springfield, IL. Illinois is my home state, and I didn't realize there were any other Springfields out there. Now that I'm older and wiser, I am so happy that The Simpsons doesn't take place in Springfield, IL, what with it being our capital and all (then again, my Springfield is pretty corrupt, so maybe some Simpsons-esque corruption would make it funny in addition to sad).

Springfield, USA is a town devoid of logic. Anything can and will happen, and the only people in town who could do anything about it are usually shunned. This is a city that built an escalator to nowhere, enacted prohibition in the 20th century, and installed a state-of-the-art anti-truancy unit in a school bereft of funds. Springfield is also a geographical impossibility; it has moutains that have ski slopes, a giant gorge, and a coastline. That doesn't sound like any place in the US that I'm aware of. But the point of these bizarre situations and geographical anomolies is to allow pretty much any story to be told in the town. The writers have little regard for continuity so that the plot can be as outrageous as necessary.

Some of the best stories revolve around Homer getting into really bizarre situations involving family, work, or other American values. For example, in "Stark Raving Dad", conformity was examined when Homer showed up to work in a pink shirt (Bart tossed a red cap in with the white laundry), and Mr. Burns assumed he was crazy for not dressing like every other employee. In "Homer Goes To College", Homer expects the experience to be like Animal House, complete with great parties, easy co-eds, and a crusty old dean ripe for a good pranking. Instead, he gets saddled with a group of nerds, while the dean is a young and cool guy who only wants to help Homer succeed.

Of course, Homer isn't the only focus of the show, and, beyond that, the show doesn't specialize on lessons. The Simpsons probably didn't invent the pop culture metaphor, but they certainly made an art form out of it (when pitching Spaced, Simon Pegg listed this show as one of the influences). Sometimes the references are quick sight gags, while other times, they are entire scenes that are extremely faithful reproductions (I forget what episode this is from, but there is a two-minute reproduction of the temple scene at the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark that was absolutely hilarious). The best references are the ones which tie in with the plot of the episode. One example is Maggie's escape from the Ayn Rand Daycare Center with a Great Escape-esque plan. "22 Short Films About Springfield" was basically a response to Pulp Fiction. The phenominal "Marge vs. The Monorail" riffed The Music Man, keeping true to the source material, while putting a hilarious Simpsons spin (Leonard Nimoy's random appearance and Homer's hopes that Marge had employed Batman to help save the day were certainly not a part of the play).

And then, there are the totally off-the-wall stories that seem to exist more for fun than to actually tell a meaningful story. Sometimes, there may be a pseudo-message, like "Mountain of Madness" teaching us the perils of cabin fever. However, the real purpose of that episode was to make us laugh by putting Homer and Burns together in a confined space. And to show us a rocket house. The rocket house was key. There is also "The Simpsons Spin-Off Showcase", which made fun of police procedurals, silly high-concept sitcoms, and cheesy variety shows all in one episode. Narrated by Troy McClure, each act was a preview of an upcoming Simpsons spin-off, each more terrible than the last. In the first, Chief Wiggum, Ralph, and Principal Skinner moved to New Orleans to set up a PI business. Best line: "Look Big Daddy, it's regular daddy!" The second was about Grandpa Simpson's soul inhabiting Moe's love-tester machine, and the wacky adventures that ensued. Finally, in a parody of the Brady Bunch's variety show (which did not feature Eve Plum, who chose not to participate for reasons that were likely obvious), the Simpsons were given a lame variety show, in which Lisa chose not to participate.

Not every story is confined to Springfield, and fortunately, it appears that the rest of the world is just as messed up as the Simpsons' home town. The family has been on every continent except for Antarctica, and bizarre events follow them everywhere. In Japan, they were on a degrading Japanese game show and were attacked by Godzilla. In England, the family met J.K. Rowling, Ian McKellan, and Queen Elizabeth II (Homer rear-ended her carriage). And in Brazil, Bart got hooked on the hit kids' show "Teleboobies".

Huh. I guess this post was more about strolling down memory lane than actually analyzing anything, but hey, there's no problem with that. With memories this good, who wouldn't want to relive them?

Up next: Back to the future...

The Simpsons: World Building

It is usually easier for an animated series to have a large cast of supporting roles, especially if the series has a vocal cast as talented as the one from The Simpsons, since the same 5 or 6 people can provide the voices for most recurring characters. Over the course of 20 years, the city of Springfield, USA has been populated by enough characters to fill a real small town. Many of these characters have even evolved more than the Simpson family.

Most of the residents of Springfield are stereotypes/archetypes for their particular role, such as the pushover best friend (Milhouse Van Houten), the bumbling cop (Chief Clancy Wiggum), the evil business magnate (Charles Montgomery Burns), and the town gossip (Helen Lovejoy). In most other shows, this would be a sign of lazy writing, but on The Simpsons, the writers use these stereotypes to point out the absurdity of society, especially when the characters break from what we expect of them.

Let's start at school. The three educators we spend the most time with are Principal Seymor Skinner, fourth grade teacher Edna Krabappel, and second grade teacher Elizabeth Hoover, and none of them are worthy of any teacher of the year awards (despite what the events of "Special Edna" would lead us to believe). Krabappel and Hoover became jaded with the education system long ago; when the students in Krabappel's class run away to find the stolen lemon tree of Springfield, Krabappel gives a half-assed "plea" for them to stay, then promptly lights a cigarette, while there is ample evidence that Hoover has done some drinking on the job. And Skinner is a total wimp who can barely keep his school under control (originally, Skinner was going to more of a Norman Bates-type character, which led to some funny visual gags, but I don't know if they could have kept that up for 20 years). It's no wonder that most students at Springfield Elementary test so poorly and are unmotivated to learn (their ugliness doesn't help either, but it can hardly be relevant to test scores... right?).

While I was planning this post, I was thinking about how most Springfield residents are some combination of the following traits: jaded, incompetent, amoral, and corrupt. There are a few exceptions (Ned Flanders and Apu Nahasapeemapetelan come to mind), and the aforementioned educators certainly fall into a few of those categories. But they are far from alone; Clancy Wiggum, the chief of police is almost too fat to move, and he sees bribes and harassment of citizens as a job perk. Or his rival, Mayor Joe Quimby, who is pretty much a dimestore Kennedy; despite having none of the charm shown by JFK, Quimby's sexual exploits are pretty comparable (as well as his voice). His other political scandals are pretty noteworthy as well (appropriating funds to build a secret Roman bath house in his home). Or what about Reverend Lovejoy, who came to Springfield as a man full of God's grace and was worn down by the constant pestering of super-Christian Ned Flanders, who once called the Reverend at night worried that he'd sinned when his "buttocks accidentally came in contact with the buttocks of another man" while on the dance floor. Entertainer Krusty the Klown seems like a good person until he is shown off camera, where we learn that he has problems with drugs, alcohol, and gambling, and can barely stand children.

No type of person is safe; for the most part, characters are defined by their jobs, and are given personalities that reflect the worst stereotypes of said professions. Lionel Hutz (one of the characters portrayed by the late, great Phil Hartman) was the world's most incompetent lawyer; he is in need of representation himself more often than he represents clients, and the Simpsons are pretty much the only people who will hire him. At the other end of the legal spectrum is the "Blue Haired Lawyer", who stands for ruthless sharks who are employed by corporations to get them out of any jam. Another Hartman character (all of whom were retired upon his death) is washed up actor Troy McClure, who used to be an action star, but is now relegated to educational films and tour videos (if Hartman were still alive, I'm guessing that he'd have become a reality TV show host). Comic Book Guy (later given the name Jeff Albertson) represents angry nerds who abuse the little power they have by belittling their nerdy customer base who have nowhere else to go to get their weekly comic fixes. He points out people's lack of knowledge on various subjects (and tends to break the fourth wall). Most business men are ruthless and heartless (I will focus on Burns in a minute or two); Roger Myers, Jr., the CEO of Itchy and Scratchy Studios, doesn't respect anyone unless they have money, while Hank Scorpio (ok, so technically, he's not a Springfield resident) is a fucking James Bond villain, bent on world domination!

And then there are two characters whose morality makes everyone else in town look like saints: C. Montgomery Burns and Sideshow Bob. When the writers doled out competence, these two got the entire pot; I would say that it's a wonder that they can stay sane in a town like Springfield, where they are the only two who can actually get things done, but it's hard to argue for either of their sanity. Burns is the oldest living man in Springfield (and possibly the world), and he owns the nuclear power plant. His family has been in Springfield for generations, and the Burnses have been the elite from the beginning (although there is evidence that he came from more humble beginnings, as seen in the episode "Rosebud"). He was at his best when he was evil (lately, he's become more of a senile coot); his office had trapdoors for employees seeking raises, and he would "release the hounds" on unwanted houseguests. In the epic two-parter (the only one of its kind on The Simpsons) "Who Shot Mr. Burns", he even succeeded in blocking out the sun. However, he is certainly the product of a bygone era; he is often unable to understand modern customs and uses outdated aphorisms.

Sideshow Bob is an intellectual who was pushed over the edge by the low-brow citizens of Springfield. He was Krusty's first sidekick on the show (before being replaced by Sideshow Mel), and he briefly took over the show when Krusty was arrested for armed robbery. Bob then turned Krusty's show into an intellectual series where he tried to nurture his viewers' minds by reading poetry and providing edutainment. That's all well and good, but it turns out that he framed Krusty for the robbery, since he was tired of the buffoonery he was subject to. After having his crimes discovered by none other than Bart Simpson (it took the loss of his favorite low-brow programming to finally motivate him), he went criminally insane in the slammer, and every time he was released (with one exception), he plotted some new ingenious scheme that was always foiled by Bart and Lisa.

As I said, not everyone in Springfield is bad; Flanders is a beacon of goodness, which is probably why Homer has an irrational hatred of him. Although he has become somewhat holier-than-thou lately, for a while, he was just a really nice guy who had everyone else's best interests at heart. And Apu seemed to break stereotype by actually enjoying his job at the Kwik-E-Mart. But these exceptions are few and far between.

Up next: Life in Springfield...

The Simpsons: Family Matters

How does one begin when talking about The Simpsons? With about twenty years of material (including the original shorts from The Tracey Ullman show), there are so many things worth talking about and many things qualify as springboards. I could start by looking at the world of Springfield, USA or examine how the wacky stories serve as allegories and pop culture allusion. However, I will begin by looking at the titular family.

At the center of all the zany-yet-highbrow humor lies the Simpson family. Patriarch Homer is a man of below average intelligence and above average weight. Things almost never go his way unless someone can be hurt or inconvenienced by his good fortune (see Frank Grimes in the episode "Homer's Enemy"). The irony of Homer's life is that he tends to fall into duties that he is vastly unqualified for, leading to hilarity. He is generally unmotivated, lazy, and boorish, and these qualities tend to bite him in the ass after being thrust into these positions. And yet, when he actually tries to buckle down and get something done, he usually fails. When he does succeed, it is not because of anything he did. But we root for him anyway, since he is a constant source of dim-witted commentary on life ("You gave both dogs away?! You know how I feel about giving!"). His wife Marge is the quintessential housewife of early 90s sitcoms; she constantly has to put up with her husband's stupidity while simultaneously trying to prevent her children from killing each other. As the series progressed, she began to develop some flaws of her own, including addictions to gambling and adrenaline, but for the most part, she plays the role of the voice of reason in a home where reason is unwelcome.

Bart, the oldest Simpson child, started the show as the troublemaker. He made prank phone calls, told teachers to "Eat [his] shorts", vandalized pubilc property, and tormented his sister Lisa. Looking back, it is pretty amazing how tame Bart's behavior is by modern standards, a fact that South Park made sure to point out (let's not go into Bart's recent changes in persona that have rendered him much more of a wimp with a poor tough guy exterior). Bart is definitely his father's son; he is a terrible student and always chooses the path of least resistance. He is addicted to violent video games and sugar. Also like his father, Bart seems to be a stand-in for everything that people see as being "wrong" with today's youth.

Middle child Lisa serves as an archetype for the unappreciated intellectuals. At 8 years old, she is one of the smartest people in Springfield, and this serves as both a gift and a curse to her. She is often ostracized from the other children at school due to her brainyness, even though she also doesn't fit in with the school's nerd elite (Martin Prince and Database put her off). Lisa is not only smart, she can apply her intelligence in ways most adults on the show can't. When con man Lyle Lanley came to Springfield claiming he was a monorail salesman, only Lisa asked the tough questions that pointed out the sheer inefficiency of a monorail in Springfield (though Lanley preyed on her pride by smoothly telling her that she was so smart that the only people in the room who would understand the answer would be Lanley and Lisa, which effectively placated her). Lisa's intelligence is well balanced with her age; she wants to be a kid and play with dolls, for instance, but her age-appropriate habits tend to bring her into some very grown-up situations (such as the time she led a campaign against Malibu Stacey dolls when she realized that the new talking Stacey spouted mysogonistic phrases that would be pushing the boundaries of decency on Mad Men).

Finally, there's baby Maggie. Despite Maggie being a silent character, she gets some great gags; the best is probably the amazing Great Escape reenactment in "A Streetcar Named Marge", including a Steve McQueen-in-the-cooler impression. There isn't too much to say about Maggie, since most of her gags conform to the plot as opposed to an established character.

I guess the next question is, "Who cares about the Simpson family?" It may be easy to write off the show, since the characters never evolve or learn anything (or if they do, it's promptly forgotten by next episode). There are precious few examples of the status quo being permanently upset (one example includes the divorce of Milhouse's parents), and there often contradictions of established continuity (one episode attributed Homer and Bart's stupidity to the "Simpson gene", while in another, Dr. Hibbert discovered a crayon lodged in Homer's brain, and upon removal, he became an intellectual). But for about 10 years, the fact that the Simpsons never learned from their mistakes kept us laughing very hard. We watched a group of people with various flaws were thrust into bizarre situations, and the results were consistently entertaining.

Up next: Introducing the supporting players...

The Televised Worlds of Matt Groening

One of my friends has suggested that I look at Matt Groening's two animated shows, The Simpsons and Futurama. These are two of the most celebrated animated series of the modern era (if not ever); The Simpsons has been on for about twenty years, and for about half of that time, it displayed a brilliance that few shows ever even approach (ok, so the later years have gotten kinda bad, but it's hard to maintain something so good that long, and there is the occasional episode now that harkens back to the show's glory days). On the other hand, Futurama got the "FOX treatment" and was mishandled for the four or five years that it was on the air; frequent timeslot changes and underpromotion made it hard to develop much of a fanbase at the time it was on, but the loyal fans it did amass spread the word, allowing the fanbase to grow as the DVDs were released (sound like a few other FOX shows?) and when reruns started airing on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. The post-mortem popularity led to four direct-to-DVD movies that will (presumably) tie up the loose ends of the series.

Futurama had a definite sense of continuity that the writers tried to maintain, which sets it distincly apart from The Simpsons (the fact that three of the main characters are children, and much of the humor is derived from family satire, a sliding timeline is used, thus hindering continuity). One of the things I will examine is the world-building aspect of both shows; The Simpsons may not have an overarching story, but it excels at character development. Springfield, USA is a thoroughly populated town, and we have immense knowledge about everyone from the minister to the local TV personalities, from the convenience store clerk to the school principal. Futurama, on the other hand, builds a world with consequences to actions and ongoing agendas and desires. This isn't to say that either show totally lacks the quality I mentioned for the other (though Futurama has much more character development than The Simpsons has continuity), rather that each show focuses on a different type of storytelling.

Up next: Welcome to Springfield...

Any Ideas?

As I said before, law school is taking up a lot of time, and unfortunately, this blog cannot occupy the same amount of space in my mind that it could when I was chilling between undergrad and grad school. I will still continue to write here for as long as I can, but I haven't been able to think of new topics for a while. I considered juxtaposing 24 and Mad Men, since one moves at a breakneck pace, while the other takes its time like no other series that I've seen. I also thought about doing a series on the nerd trilogy trinity of the 70s and 80s (Star Wars, Indiana Jones and Back to the Future), then I remembered that I already did one of them (though this doesn't mean I can't do the other two separately).

However, I have decided to let people send me ideas for things they'd like to see me talk about. I have done that once, when my brother asked me to analyze LOST, and I'd like to hear about what you want to hear about. If I don't get any suggestions, I will think of something myself, but let's see what you all want.

Up next: That's up to you...

Hot Fuzz: Super Cops

Hot Fuzz, Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg's next movie, uses buddy cop action movies as its inspiration. It tells the story of a seasoned London cop who gets transferred to the sleepy town of Sandford where the crime rate is nearly non-existent. He is partnered with the inept son of Sandford's Chief Inspector, and against all odds, the pair eventually becomes friends, as they engage in a battle royale in the middle of town. Sounds trite, right? Like every other buddy cop movie ever made? Ha.

This film's biggest departure from the past works of Wright and Pegg is that Pegg's character Nicholas Angel is the exact opposite of the lazy slacker embodied by Tim and Shaun; Angel is an overachiever whose life is defined by his work. In fact, this is why Angel is forced out of London; he is making all of his fellow officers look bad by comparison, and despite the fact that he's an obvious asset to the force (or the service, since "force" sounds too aggressive), everyone else in the precinct couldn't be happier to be rid of him.

I don't know if the countryside is the English equivalent to the American backwater areas (I mean no disrespect; I'm referring to film stereotypes), but the little town of Sandford seems positively ass-backwards to Angel. The bar serves minors, the local shopkeep looks the other way when a kid shoplifts some candy, the town's only reporter constantly gets his facts wrong, and the police officers barely know what they're doing. Then again, on the surface, it appears as if there is no crime to either show them how to do their jobs or to even require them to do so with competance. At times, it would seem like Angel ended up in Wonderland, since his logic always fell on deaf ears, and people just did things the way they were always done because it was the path of least resistance.

The movie seems to a character study for the first half hour or so, since most of the story follows Angel and his partner, Danny Butterman (as usual, Pegg's partner in, er, crime [?] is played by Nick Frost), as Angel tries to make Danny a better cop while Danny tries to show Angel how to be a real human, as opposed to a supercop. Sadly for Danny though, Angel isn't the supercop that pop culture fans like Danny (and Wright, Pegg and the audience) dreamed of meeting. Instead of going in guns blazing, shooting first and asking questions later, Angel is an extremely by-the-book kind of guy who uses deductive reasoning to solve crimes. Everything Danny knows about police work comes from movies, such as Bad Boys II and Point Break. In one scene, Danny asks Angel if he'd performed various actions, and he proceeds to list nearly every action movie cliche imaginable (pay attention to what he says, since Hot Fuzz, like Shaun, enjoys creative foreshadowing).

Of course, this wouldn't be a very exciting action movie if there weren't any crime. Eventually, various Sandford residents start ending up dead by bizarre circumstances, and the only person who suspects foul play is Angel. Everyone else in town, including the cops, attribute the deaths to freak accidents. As Angel investigates the "accidents", he begins to uncover a conspiracy that reaches deeper into the heart of Sandford than anyone could have possibly imagined. I have to hand it to Wright and Pegg; they sure know how to come up with great and unexpected twists that always make perfect sense in light of all of the evidence.

The ending features some of the best and funniest shoot-out sequences I've ever seen. After what has been a fairly realistic (the shadowy cult is a little out there) cop story, Hot Fuzz is transformed into an over-the-top action flick that has a scene that may make even Tarantino gag (he's a fan of Wright and Pegg's work).

The works of Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg work so well because they are both funny and respective to their subject matter. They certainly know where to poke fun at genres, but that is because they know the ins and outs extremely well. Not only that, but their films and television show had actual plots to go along with the gags. The jokes were funny, but the stories could stand on their own if they had to. It's too bad that more comedy/parody writers don't understand this, but the bright side is that it makes these movies all the more funnier.

Up next: I don't know right now...

Shaun of the Dead: King of the Zombies

And we're back! You didn't think I'd abandon all of you, did you? Law school certainly is a time-suck, but so far, I'm enjoying it (hey, I enjoy analysis; doesn't this blog attest to that?). Though I think it's weird that the first post in weeks is being delivered on the same day that one of my professors made a derogatory comment about blogging (I will admit I hate the term) AND the newest issue of Angel: After the Fall was released, wherein a spectral Cordelia told Angel that one of the most boring things he could have done was to start a movie review blog (ouch). I also want to say thanks to the few of you who voted in my little poll; it looks like readers here are huge The Office and 30 Rock fans out there (I voted for Pushing Daisies, but I am certainly hoping that my schedule will allow me to watch 30 Rock as well).

Anyway, whereas Spaced was about pop culture in general, Shaun of the Dead focused on horror movies. Wright and Pegg (Hynes has a cameo role in the film, which is why I tagged her) used horror cliches to tell a story about life today; basically, we are so self-absorbed and zombified that we'd barely notice if the dead started to rise. Of course, there are practical applications of that in addition to the social satire, but I'll get to the analysis in a moment.

Pegg plays Shaun, a 29-year-old slacker. He still works at an electronics store that was probably where he worked when he was a teenager. He spends nearly every night at a crappy pub with his bored girlfriend Liz, boorish best friend Ed (played by Spaced alum Nick Frost), and Liz's two roommates. Ed represents one extreme in that he is pretty much a coherent zombie when the movie begins; all he does is lay around playing video games and doing things that benefit only him. Liz and her roommates aren't model examples of humanity, but they are aware that if they stick around with Shaun and Ed, they will be doomed to be zombies as well. Shaun is caught somewhere in between. He is perfectly happy in his meaningless existence, where he often walks around with a blank stare and sleepwalks through many parts of his life. But he would prefer to stay with Liz, and if that means having to grow up a little, so be it.

The first twenty minutes or so of the movie show Shaun's daily routine, and we see him, as well as half the population of London, barely going through the motions of life. So when actual zombies start showing up (the movie goes out of its way to never state the cause for the epidemic), no one really notices. Shaun assumes that they are homeless, drunk or listening to their iPods, and pays them no mind until he accidentally impales one on an umbrella stand. At first, he's horrified with the thought that he killed a woman, but when she pulls herself up and is seemingly unharmed, that is when things start to click for our heroes. But most importantly, when Shaun and Ed have a chance to see what's going on by watching the news, they decide to change the channel to play video games.

As I said, I think there is more to the lack of recognition of the zombies than just the social commentary jokes would lead us to believe. I mean, what would you do if you saw a ramdon zombie walking around? Would you think, "Oh crap! Zombies! Run!"? Or would your thought process be more like, "Oh hey, a crazy person". The social commentary is definitely there, but this movie is meant to be (fairly) grounded in reality and character-based. The action doesn't really start until at least half an hour in, and in that time, we are slowly introduced to the characters, allowing us to get to know them. This will give us a reason to care for their safety later in the film. Everyone has a place in the film, and everyone has their flaws and strengths (except David; he was always kind of a prick). Even Shaun's step-father, who starts out as a "wicked step-parent" archetype shows that he has more depth than he originally lets on (and I think its worth noting that while Shaun's mother is more sympathetic, she knowingly puts the group in danger, whereas the step-father understands the situation and knows what must be done when he is about to turn).

Many horror films don't succeed in causing any fear in the hearts and minds of the audience (aside from temporary jolts from loud noises or gory images) because we don't care about the characters (though this isn't a problem that only horror films have), and this film definitely fixes that. Also, Shaun uses horror cliches to keep us on our toes, since it both adheres to and openly rejects many such cliches. Shaun is both a horror hero who finds that he can do many things he couldn't before (such as climbing up the side of a building to rescue Liz and her friends), but he is also still very much a normal guy, which was best shown when he tried to use a rifle to keep the zombies at bay. Whereas in most movies, the hero, who may never have picked up a gun in their life, suddenly becomes a crack shot. Not so here. There are plenty of overly dramatic (and often funny) deathbed confessions, and the token character who never seems to understand that everything they do exacerbates the situation. At the end (SPOILER ALERT... obviously), the military rides in to save the day. Oh, and this movie probably has the most novel approach to solving the zombie problem that I've ever seen.

Shaun of the Dead needs to be viewed at least twice, since the foreshadowing is incredible. Whether it derives from double entendres (that have one meaning when they are stated, and take on a more twisted interpretation later) or commands and desires put out by characters (like telling Ed to go live in the shed), the movie is full of jokes that take on whole new meanings the second time around (sort of like Arrested Development).

Up next: The Fuzzy blue line...