My Favorite Simpsons: “Marge Be Not Proud”
March 9, 2012 § 1 Comment
Despite growing up with The Simpsons, I was amazed watching the old episodes again on DVD. With some years’ distance, and a few fresh viewings, you realize how the roots of the show’s absurdity lie in strong story-telling. When Homer says, “I want to tell you about the most wonderful place in the world: Doggie heaven,” that line sticks in the memory because it’s situated in a terrific back-and-forth between Homer and Bart (who asks about doggie hell) and Lisa (who angrily points out that Nixon’s dog is named Checkers). That’s why there’s such a thing as a Simpsons quote: the dialogue and its cadence are situated in a solid bit of story.
A seventh-season episode called “Marge Be Not Proud,” where Bart gets caught shoplifting around Christmas time, is my favorite because the rich strangeness of the writing is integrated with the structure of the story more artistically than in any other episode. If any Simpsons episode can be compared to a great short story, it’s this one. It’s a Christmas episode where Christmas is just an excuse to immerse the vicissitudes and complexities of Bart’s growing pains in the season’s wintry cheer.
Bart shoplifts a videogame against his better judgment — there’s an air of striving in the decision, when Jimbo and Kearney indirectly goad him into it — and the rest of the episode is about his subsequent estrangement from Marge when he gets caught. Really, Bart and Marge aren’t estranged by each other, but by themselves: Marge isn’t ready for Bart’s un-innocence, and Bart is amazed into remoteness by her reaction and by his own shame. They drift apart, Bart feels bad, he makes amends, and they are reconciled. That’s the plot. What sells it are the ways their individual discomforts are brought to life.
The balance between innocence and adult understanding in Bart and Marge — this is the theme of the episode. The initial trivial disagreement between them — that she won’t buy him Bonestorm — draws a line between Marge’s domestic cheer and Bart’s pre-adolescent striving. When she tucks him in at night, the ironic contrast of their characters is that she has a childlike enthusiasm and he’s cramped by it:
So he shoplifts Bonestorm, and there are a few great images that capture Bart’s uneasy boyishness in the endeavor. His conscience is a slew of videogame characters:
…and in that same vein of cartoonish imagery, when he finds out he and his family are headed back to Try-N-Save the next day, his shock registers as puffs of steam from the teapot behind him:
The spine of these images is how their cartoonish frivolity is essential to Bart’s state of mind.
Bart gets caught when he goes back, Marge is aloof, and he spends the third act walking and talking and feeling alienated. What follows is a beautiful meandering sequence of images: all the world conspires in Bart’s confusion. The winter is snowless and austere, and there is that air of reticence about everything — Marge’s reserved manner toward Bart, Bart’s conversation with Lisa as they brush their teeth (I think the conversation between the two kids is a mirror of an earnest back-and-forth in bed between Marge and Homer), his tender stepping across the bathroom rug, the stingy snowfall that affords Bart only enough sludge for a crappy likeness (the way his muddy self-portrait stands out from the rest of the family’s is a marvelous touch).
When Bart makes it up to Marge by revealing a paid-for portrait of himself — the act is so simple and obvious that it highlights the enormous gulf between the complexity of what Bart feels and the simple mischief of what he’s done — it is another delicate demonstration of Marge’s essential cheer and Bart’s essential ambivalence. She is effusive, relieved, gushing at the reparation, and he is still queasy — and, clearly, relieved — at it.
Note the delicate balance of deceit in this reconciliation: when Marge bridges the gap between them with a copy of Lee Carvallo’s Putting Challenge, there’s another deception on Bart’s part — his reluctant, humoring smile — that marks his tenderness toward Marge. Bart’s innocence, at least, is not magically restored. His affection for Marge has a touch of self-consciousness and vulnerability now. And Marge, in her adulthood, can’t help a pure outpouring of motherly love.
(If only sitcoms and especially cartoons didn’t force their characters into an endlessly resetting cycle, this ending would mark a new maturity in Bart and Marge’s relationship.)
The ending isn’t a pat closure — it’s a natural extension and resolution of the uncertainty that’s preceded it. The fake snow partially glazing the tree behind them, Lisa’s lingering resentment at Bart’s early present, the bizarre passive-aggressive gameplay in the Lee Carvallo epilogue — these are essential details of the not-quite-Christmas spirit that pervades this episode and gives it life.
In animation, nothing is passing or offhand. Animators have to commit to every gesture and mannerism. I would wager that rigor exaggerates either a staff’s conventionality or its creativity. In the best episodes of The Simpsons, there’s no such thing as a tossed-off gag, only a carefully placed one.
P.S. Three beautiful details of Bart’s unease between boyhood and adolescence:
- He doesn’t know the word “Capisce”, so he remembers the mall security head asking him, “Catfish?”
- Before the second go-around of the “tuck-in express”, he pushes the blanket back a bit in expectation of Marge’s visit.
- Marge tasks him with putting his marshmallow in his hot chocolate by himself. He screws it up somehow and it expands inexplicably like a sponge, so he’s forced to eat his hot chocolate with a fork and knife. If there’s a more delicate and hilarious metaphor for growing up, I’ve never encountered it in any medium.