Yet Another Simpsons Article: Simpsons 102

By: Bob Mackey

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October 19, 2007

Last week, I wrote about the current state of The Simpsons and its distant golden years, all while telling you what to feel -- so this week’s article needs little introduction.  I’ve already named the best four episodes in the first four seasons, and today I’m going to continue this fruitless exercise by going through seasons five to eight.

But first, let me explain something: any Simpsons fan worth his or her salt will tell you that you can safely ignore any season after eight and be perfectly happy.  I am one of them.  Seasons nine and ten are okay, but don’t deserve to be lumped in with the magic of 1989 – 1997, AKA “the best years to be alive and in front of a television set."  And season 11 can just go to hell.

Season 5 – “Rosebud”

Marge: [incredulous] Have you been up all night eating cheese?

Homer: [slurred] I think I'm blind...

While it was hard to choose one episode each from seasons three and four, from here on out it’s going to be excruciating.  But season five’s “Rosebud” wasn’t too hard of a decision to make. It stands out as the perfect marriage of character back story, pop culture references, and humor (this is bigamy) – and it may be the best Mr. Burns episode ever produced.

Just like Citizen Kane’s titular character, Mr. Burns longs for his lost childhood by means of a long-lost possession; though it takes the form of a beloved stuffed bear named “Bobo” instead of a sled called “Rosebud” in this case. Via a Quik-E-Mart-purchased bag of ice, The Simpsons gain possession of the sought-after bear, but Maggie’s attachment to it means more to the family than what Mr. Burns is willing to offer.  Thus, hilarity ensues.  Well, not just hilarity – we briefly see a pathetic, powerless side of Burns that quickly disappears at the end of the episode in the standard cynical Simpsons tradition.  As fleeting as it was, though, it cast a completely new light on an old character.  There had never really had a sympathetic portrayal of Burns until this point, as he was essentially the show’s super villain.  His diabolical side is still present in "Rosebud," though; the episode features Mr. Burns holding both TV and alcohol hostage, as well as his poorly-planned zipline B&E at the Simpsons’ home.

Sadly, he’d eventually become just another one of the “sad, confused, old man” characters on the show, but with “Rosebud,” Mr. Burns was at his peak.

Season 6 – “Who Shot Mr. Burns (Part One)” 

Burns: Ahoy, there, Dean.  I understand you're taking suggestions from students, eh? Well, me and my fourth form chums think it would be quite corking if you'd sign over your oil well to the local energy concern.

Skinner: [clears throat] Mr. Burns?

Burns: Buh!

Skinner: It was naive of you think I would mistake this town's most prominent 104 year-old man for one of my elementary school students.

This is, in my opinion, the perfect Simpsons episode.  Written by two of the show’s finest writers – who would later go on to run seasons seven and eight – “Who Shot Mr. Burns?” is a brilliantly plotted and directed episode, and the finest example of The Simpsons at its peak.  Though I'm not implying it was all downhill from the end of season six; “Who Shot Mr. Burns?” marks the direct chronological center at which the comedy goldmine was at its most productive.

It’s amazing that “Who Shot Mr. Burns?” turned out so good when you account for what the episode had going against it.  This was The Simpsons’ first approach to what could have turned into a real “jump the shark” moment: a two-part, cliffhanger episode (something the show hasn’t done before or since) promoted with a contest where viewers were asked the question present in the title of the episode.  But due to the amazing staff on board at the time, everything worked.  “Who Shot Mr. Burns?” is a complex mystery, with a dozen characters each having a dozen motivations to commit the crime.  We also see Mr. Burns at his worst, along with some of the best moments of supporting characters like Smithers, who binges on alcohol and Comedy Central, and Principal Skinner, who has one of the more memorable encounters with Superintendent Chalmers.

To me, both parts (even though I’m only counting this part alone for season six) of “Who Shot Mr. Burns?” are the real Simpsons movie; both episodes were more epic and engaging (in only 45 minutes), with a real villain connected to Springfield and no need for a boring cross-country adventure.  Mr. Burns is one of the finest antagonists in television, which is why it’s so sad he’s fallen into disuse during these past ten-or-so years.

And for those of you thinking that the resolution to “Who Shot Mr. Burns?” was kind of a cop-out, writers Bill Oakley and Josh Weinstein originally proposed that Barney Gumble be the shooter, and actually leave the show for a while to serve time for shooting Burns.  In the end, they opted for a less continuity-altering idea. 

Season 7 – “Mother Simpson” 

Wiggum: Put out an APB on a Uosdwis R. Dewoh.  Uh, better start with Greektown.

Friday: That's "Homer J. Simpson", Chief.  You're reading it upside down. 

Wiggum: Uh, cancel that APB.  But, uh, bring back some of them, uh, gyros.

Friday: Uh, Chief?  You're talking into your wallet.

By now it should be apparent that I’m a sucker for real emotional moments on The Simpsons; they may be few and far between, but they’re always real, worked-for, and never sappy.  That being said, if you don’t get choked up during the last scene of “Mother Simpson,” you must be a robot or some kind of fancy new German.  I’m just sayin’.

“Mother Simpson” tackled an issue that had never been brought up by the show before: where was Homer’s mother?  The answer to this question is one of the most touching and memorable episodes in the history of the show (I promise I am trying to be less girly with my descriptions from now on).

The introduction of Mona Simpson to the show’s universe posed a bit of a problem: how can you introduce such a major family member after seven years, excuse her absence, and tie her into the history of the show?  “Mother Simpson” manages to solve all of these problems; Mona leaves her family in the 1960s for a valid reason, the counterculture movement, yet we manage to have sympathy for her despite her absence from Homer's life.  And her appearance doesn’t even come close to being gimmicky, as she’s worked into the history of the town and given a reason to be absent for so long: the raiding of Mr. Burns’ germ warfare lab has made her a fugitive for three decades.  Because she fits into the show so naturally, no part of this episode feels forced.  This helps with the emotional payoff of the episode’s final scene, where Mona is forced to leave Homer again; it’s simple, sweet and genuine.  And that final shot of a contemplative Homer sitting on his car and looking up at the stars as a gentle melody plays over the credits gets me weepy just thinking about it.

When was the last time a TV show has done that? (Sorry, I am a big fat lady)

Season 8 – “You Only Move Twice”

Hank: If you need anything, you call me.

Homer: All right. What's the number?

Hank: I've never had to call my own company. Someone will tell you upstairs. But, Homer, on your way out, if you wanna kill somebody, it would help a lot.

“You Only Move Twice” is the “Marge Versus the Monorail” of season eight.  If you can’t follow that analogy, allow me to explain: the episode has a delightful amount of absurdity that isn’t seen elsewhere in the season.  Because of this craziness, it’s a fan favorite.  I also feel obligated to include it in this article because I think I’ve been going a little overboard with selecting mostly emotion-heavy episodes.

And if I don’t include this episode, I’ll probably get death threats from at least half of this blog’s audience.  I don’t even think my mailbox can hold six letters!

The plot of “You Only Move Twice” is a simple one that’s used often in The Simpsons: “Homer gets a new job.”  But the execution makes this tired concept worth watching from start to finish.  Homer’s new boss, Hank Scorpio, is both a parody of the laid-back Silicon Valley millionaires and a sort of James Bond super villain.  It’s a crazy, incredibly high-concept idea, but it works; what could be the wackiest and most in-your-face part of the plot is handled with an alarming bit of subtlety, making it all the more funny.  Homer’s new job is seemingly normal and mundane, and he isn’t even aware of Hank Scorpio’s real objectives – even though Scorpio doesn’t try to keep them a secret.  Essentially, there’s a spy movie going on in the background that this episode of The Simpsons occasionally interrupts.  This all culminates in the scene where Homer – at the behest of his homesick family – morosely quits his job while the fighting and fireworks of a James Bond movie climax happen around him.  Homer being blind to all of this is what makes “You Only Move Twice” one of the best moments of the end of The Simpsons' golden age.

So what happened after this?  Television was bad forever.

THE END