Entertainment ceases to grip its audience when it ceases to inspire. Let's face it; the Olympics are pretty boring. Seriously, I've heard more about the steroid scandals, security concerns, slow ticket sales and the failure of the U.S. baseball team to qualify than I have about all of the eligible athletes combined. This year's games will mark the apparent decline of not one, but two TV institutions. When Fox prepares its primetime programming answer to this year's Olympics, it will be Peter Griffin, not Homer Simpson, who carries the torch.
Like the Olympics, "The Simpsons" is becoming a bore. Even the most diehard fans are beginning to accept that the show's over-exposure, and over-reliance on celebrity guest worship has dulled the creative edge that made the show a cultural phenomenon in the 1990s. In recent years, the celebrity appearances have become less ingenious and more like bad guest star skits on "Saturday Night Live."
Before you Simpsons fan boys deposit caps-locked, Keystone-induced, profanity laced notices of grievance in my inbox, ask yourselves, "When was the last time the Halloween episode didn't suck?" It's been a while. The writers seem determined to finish on cruise control. If you still think that "The Simpsons" has any staying power beyond its establishment entrenchment, just remember that the same formulaic style was transplanted to "Futurama," and the patient didn't live long.
Remember when "The Simpsons" broke the shackles of Bart Simpson one-liners and became genuinely clever? That skateboard mentality nearly killed the show once, but fat Homer clichs are probably going to finish the job. Enter "Family Guy," TV's next best hope.
Later this year, "Family Guy" will return to Fox for the first time since its 2001 cancellation, and it will compete for ratings gold against NBC's Olympic Games coverage. After setting TV DVD sales records in 2003, drawing top ratings on Cartoon Network's "Adult Swim" programming block and becoming a college dorm phenomenon, "Family Guy" is receiving long-deserved recognition from Fox. What's more, the show's visionary creator, Seth MacFarlane, will personally select the episodes.
I can see the fan boy mail already. "Tim, you suk, Simpsons rulz. Family Guy got cancelled! Loozer! Die!" After a recent column of mine incited a hate mail campaign from a national fat association, nothing would surprise me. If you've bothered to read this far, you are either a militant Simpsons fan or you have every episode of "Family Guy" on your hard drive.
The latter group already knows that the Griffins will return to television in the spring of 2005, and 35 new episodes are currently in the works. As for the former, I pity you, and here's why; "Family Guy" is the future of cartoon sitcoms.
On the surface, "Family Guy" looks like a Simpsons clone, and maybe it is, but "Family Guy" has retained the inspired comedic timing that had been a Simpsons trademark. Concept doesn't really count for much in sitcoms, because everything has been done already. The difference between the modern "The Simpsons" and "Family Guy" is the same difference in execution that distinguishes "Cheers" from recent years of "Frasier." Comedy is only funny when it is unpredictable. When Peter Griffin falls on his face, you don't see it coming. When Homer Simpson falls, you feel as if you're watching a rerun. Yeah, 350-plus episodes and cookie-cutter punch lines will do that.
"Family Guy" is less cumbersome than "The Simpsons" because it doesn't feel the weight of its own social import. Unlike its counterpart from Springfield, "Family Guy" never tries to force a moral or contrive a life lesson where one doesn't belong. Comedy shouldn't have to apologize for itself, and the Griffin family has been an unrepentant laugh factory from day one. "Family Guy's" approach to inoffensive content is to offend everybody and claim impartiality to the aggrieved parties. MacFarlane and company have differentiated themselves from "The Simpsons" simply by unabashedly taking the low road.
This year, I'm looking forward to the Olympics, if only to witness the passing of the baton from the television's last great fat man to its next.
