John Patterson
It’s a little disconcerting. In front of me is a mother of two in her mid-30s, well dressed with a blonde, bobbed hairdo. She looks like an archetypal soccer mom from the wealthy suburbs, probably drives a Ford Explorer, active in the parent/teachers association, gladly volunteers to help out at the school bake sale. You know, someone normal.
So why is she talking like Bart Simpson? Why is she saying, “Don’t have a cow, man?” Most of the time she talks in the faintly nasal, reedy tones one associates with the Midwest, which is natural enough since she grew up in Ohio, the very middle of Middle America, but then her voice rises an octave and takes on that high-pitched timbre normally only conferred by a dose of laughing gas. It’s instant Bart. Very weird indeed.
Meet Nancy Cartwright, the voice behind America’s most reprehensible role model, El Barto, the self-styled “Captain Bart McCool”, primary nemesis of principal Seymour Skinner and grounds-keeper Willy, not to mention his long-tormented parents and a large percentage of the population of Springfield. She’s talking about her encounter with someone she calls “a non- believer”.
“We were doing a promotional appearance at some mall early on in the show, 1991 or so, and we were driving around in this cart that made it pretty clear we were totally hooked up with The Simpsons. And this one guy was really surly and sarcastic. He came up and said, ‘The Simpsons, huh?’ And I said, ‘Yeah man, I’m Bart Simpson. Who the hell are you?’ But this guy yells back at me, ‘You’re not Bart Simpson! No you’re not! I know the guy who does Bart Simpson!'”
At the age of 10, with countless Emmys and other awards straining the mantelpiece, and with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame lately inaugurated, The Simpsons is now both the longest-running animated show on primetime and the longest-running sitcom still producing new episodes. It is routinely praised as the best thing on TV, even in a newly vibrant American television environment that becomes more sophisticated and interesting with every passing week – a transformation in the media landscape for which The Simpsons is largely responsible. It has spawned a decade-long primetime animation boom that has given us Ren and Stimpy, Rugrats, King of the Hill, The Critic and The Family Guy, plus Simpsons creator Matt Groening’s new show Futurama, now in its second season. Even the live- action shows are getting in on the act.
Fox’s most highly praised new sitcom of the season, the excellent Malcolm in the Middle, is about a family that’s almost as lovably demented as Bart’s, but without the pen and ink. The reviews say it all: “A live-action Simpsons.” And the broad frame of cultural reference that underpins the success of America’s other favourite maladjusted family, The Sopranos, arguably wouldn’t have come into being had not Springfield’s finest done it first.
It’s unusual for a 10-year-old show to retain its freshness, acuity and bite. Most shows are dried up by their fourth season, as jaded lead actors make the leap into movies and the ones playing their kids hit puberty and start sounding all awkward and embarrassed. The animation format has helped Groening and his writers and actors to sidestep all those perils because the voices do not change with age. Scott Baio’s voice may break, but not Nancy Cartwright’s, which is why Bart can remain a 10-year-old boy forever.
Producer Mike Scully, bespectacled, bearded, says: “People tend to think that if it’s just a voice then it’s replaceable, but with Nancy and the other cast members it’s not. What they do is absolutely irreplaceable. They bring to life 60 or 70 characters that are just pen and ink line drawings. And yes, you may be able to copy their voices with an impersonator, but not their incredible acting abilities, so whatever these guys are paid is …” – at this point he remembers his role as the show’s producer and chief budget-Nazi, and he slips into an entirely facetious tone – “uh, way more than enough.”
Like the show’s other voice actors, Cartwright doesn’t just do one voice. Her pipes are also behind the characters of redneck school bully Nelson Muntz (Wallop! “That’s for wastin’ teacher’s valuable time! Har-har!”), the ultra-wet Rod and Todd Flanders (“Oh boy, liver for dinner! Iron helps us play!”) and Mrs Clancy Wiggum. Dan Castellaneta does Homer, but also voices Krusty the Clown, Grampa Simpson, Barney the barfly, Itchy the mouse, Mayor Quimby (in sleazy JFK Boston brahmin mode), grounds-keeper Willy and Sideshow Mel. Hank Azaria handles Moe, Apu, Chief Wiggum and Dr Nick Riviera. And Harry Shearer has a backbreaking workload that includes not only C Montgomery Burns and his doormat and wannabe-catamite Waylon Smithers, but also principal Skinner, Reverend Lovejoy (whose sermons are free of both love and joy), Otto the bus driver, Ned Flanders, Dr Hibbert, Kent Brockman, Arnie-esque action hero McBain, aka Rainier Wolfecastle, and Scratchy the cat. Two of the show’s best characters – attorney Lionel nnHutz and has-been actor Troy McLure – were sadly dropped from the show last year after their creator, the brilliant comedian Phil Hartman, was killed in a murder-suicide by his wife. “We never really considered doing those characters again after Phil’s death,” says Scully, with a flicker of anguish detectable in his eyes. “We would have needed to use an impersonator and there would just have been an underlying sadness to it. As a tribute to Phil and all the great work he did for the show, we just retired them.”
Having planned from the age of 10 – Bart’s age – to work as a voice actor for cartoons, Cartwright trained with old- school voiceman Dawes Butler. “You’ll remember him as the voice of Huckleberry Hound, Quick-Draw McGraw, Yogi Bear and all those great Hanna-Barbera characters.” She points to the career longevity enjoyed by Dawes and his contemporaries George O’Hanlon, Mel Blaine and Don Messick (who all worked on The Jetsons, among countless other shows) as one of the reasons The Simpsons might still be around for a 20th season in a decade’s time. “These guys were still working and doing these voices way into their 70s, and one or two into their 80s.”
Which would work out fine for Cartwright. Bart makes her very popular with her kids’ schoolfriends. “They all know that Mom is Bart. They all yell, ‘Do Bart! Do Bart!’ and I just say – cut that transformation again – ‘No way, man!’ That keeps ’em happy.”
And keeping audiences happy in the most recent season are the usual array of celebrity guest appearances, including the likes of Britney Spears, Kid Rock, Stephen King and naff Canadian rockers Bachman-Turner-Overdrive.
Among the storylines Scully is prepared to divulge are these: Bart becomes a faith healer (“Heal! Heal! Heal!” squeals Bart/Cartwright). The Simpsons houses it for Mr Burns. Bart and Homer buy a racehorse.
The season’s finale will be a spoof of VH1’s Behind the Music. “It’ll take us behind the scenes, through all their backstage success and their battles, and especially Homer’s addiction to painkillers. Oh, there is also going to be …” he pauses for maximum effect, “… a death in Springfield. One of our regular characters.”
My mind reels. Who? Scully’s not saying, but there’s a clue in the episode title, Alone Again, Natura-Diddly.
And finally, has Nancy Cartwright learned to draw Bart yet? “No, it’s pathetic and embarrassing,” she says. “What I do when I sign autographs is add the very top of Bart’s head, the nine little spikes, and then I put the very tops of his eyeballs at the bottom of the page. I got that down!”
The Simpsons season nine is on M-Net at 6.30pm on Thursdays. For a deeper look at America’s first family of animation check out their 10th birthday year of special events on www.thesimpsons.com