For those of you buried in the library or unable to resist the carnal pleasures of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, the 14th season of our favorite monochromatic family, The Simpsons, has officially arrived. Not that this is historic in itself, but for an entire generation, every year in late October means the latest "Treehouse of Horror" series. After nearly a decade and a half of ironic mayhem, scathing satire and long-running jokes, the talented creative team has a license to do whatever the hell it pleases, and target any social miscue it finds annoying.
"Treehouse of Horror 13," airing days after Halloween, managed to prove to detractors and jump-the-shark fanatics that The Simpsons is as fresh as any current sitcom. Hell, the serendipitous residents of Springfield manage to outshine the understatedly humorous Texans of King of the Hill and the crude antics of the South Park boys, even after 14 long years. For the non-cultists, keep in mind the annual "Treehouse" series is non-canonical, outside the main narrative of the residents of Springfield. Here, creator Matt Groening and staff employ nonsensical character development and popular parody to varied effect. While the series prides itself on ridiculing what Americans cherish, the creators use the "Treehouse" series to ridicule themselves in all their inconsistencies and gimmicks.
The first segment, "Send in the Clones," featured Homer's quest for infinite laziness with the help of countless Homer clones, even more brainless than the original. Although not entirely an original idea, the strength of The Simpsons relies on familiarity here. No matter how many random subplots fight for the viewer's singular attention, the show's incredibly deep bag of tricks manages to tie everything together when giant donuts are sent in to distract an army of Homers and lure them to death before they destroy the world out of stupidity. The images of multiple Homers interacting is instantly classic, playing on the consumer desire to reproduce his visage on t-shirts, posters and even PlayStation 2 video games.
Weeks after Michael Moore's misunderstood Bowling for Columbine, the timely middle segment, "The Fright to Creep and Scare Harms," featured another Lisa crusade to ban arms from Springfield with a cash-for-gun program, resulting in the attack of zombie gunslingers from the past. Political correction be damned, The Simpsons remains a consistent source for pop satire. Refusing to take a stand for gun control, the politics of Springfield remain dizzying ambiguous, undercut with irony on every level. Family Guy wishes it were this intellectually bold. The final segment, "The Island of Dr. Hibbert" fared a bit worse, relying on straightforward parody of an awful Marlon Brando film and the appropriate fusion of favorite characters with a colorful menagerie (e.g. anteater Maggie, walrus Homer, opossum Apu).
On Nov. 10, the official season premiere found Homer in hot water with his doting family after a drunken Taxicab Confession in which he confesses he regrets marriage to Marge and the birth of his children and the consequential abandonment of his dream to be a rock star. Instead of healing the wound with resentment, Lisa, Bart and Marge selflessly buy him a ticket to the Rolling Stone's Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp, headed by Keith Richards.
Along with Elvis Costello, Mick Jagger and Tom Petty, aging rock stars lend their voices to a surprisingly enjoyable mixture of stunt casting, rock humor and Homerisms. Most shows misuse their celebrity cameos for ratings and create lopsided TV suited to a personality not meant for the small screen; The Simpsons is often guilty of this mistake. But here, Lenny Kravitz discusses crotch stuffing to live up to the myth of over-sexualized rockers, and Elvis Costello demonstrates the usefulness of the electronic bass to a guitar-obsessed group of A-males. Anyone who plays the bass would understand the subtle irony at work here.
Meanwhile, despite its dependence on familiar antics, including Homer's insobriety, Marge's parody of the domestic housewife, Moe's isolated bitterness and Wiggum's pathetic incompetence as police chief, the show's universe remains the archetype for any community, open to the triumphs and pitfalls of all social problems. Sick and tired of aging rock stars strutting their stuff on commercials? Well, how about a scene with music legends mowing the grass and fixing the roof? With a wink to over-commercialization, The Simpsons straddles both sides of the fence, and gets away with it, claiming there are no absolutes in America today except vodka.
I am particularly fond of the frequent glimpses of intelligence in the 300-plus scripts. Sure, watching Homer give blood in order to achieve a high alternative to beer makes me laugh, but I prefer his confused solipsisms. For example, after the fantasy week ends, he declares, "My dreams has been shattered into the fragments of a broken dream... I'm so despondent." This childish boob still manages to portray complex human feelings, and the gooey heart of the series, the love for his family. Younger audiences may scoff at the occasional sensitivity of the series, without realizing that, without moral philosophy and familial affairs, the show would simply be a slightly smarter version of Family Guy. Cynicism needs sincerity in this day and age to survive.
Upcoming episodes promise to deliver this well-balanced mixture of scathing comedy. This season, Marge receives breast implants, the Simpson family moves into a PBS-style 19th century home with Squiggy from Laverne and Shirley, Sideshow Bob returns (played by the impeccable but obstinate Kelsey Grammer) and Bart sues Homer over squandered funds raised from his brief stint as a baby commercial star. Time will tell if these episodes will maintain the quality we all expect from America's family, but I suspect we will at least find some satisfaction.
Unlike the inconsistent previous season, the series ostensibly has rediscovered the grand old days of satire and carefully plotted hilarity. With voice talents who are clearly still having plenty of fun and socially conscious writers ready to transform pain into punch lines, this animated gem may have lost some glimmer over the years, but under the right light, fits in nicely with a Sunday night lineup that has usurped Must-See-TV Thursday. With King of the Hill, Malcolm in the Middle and Curb Your Enthusiasm to look forward to, The Simpsons always puts me in the right mood to relax on a Sunday night before the week begins.
