Please Let the Simpsons Die: An Open Letter to Matt Groening

Dear Mr. Groening,

In the very rare chance that you happen to read this letter, let me start by saying how close The Simpsons is to my heart. That’s why it brings me no joy, in the wake of Fox’s most recent four-season renewal, to ask you to please let the show die with dignity.

I still vividly remember my first time meeting the family in “Some Enchanted Evening,” better known as the Babysitter Bandit episode, at age 8 during the original air date in 1990. It was at once shocking, funny, exciting, and a little dangerous. A lot flew over my head, but I was hooked.

As I grew into my teens, the show became a way of life. It was the basis for meeting some of my best friends. We spoke in Simpsons quotes, and would call each other when favorites aired in syndication. I’d always get a ring from my friend Chris when “King Size Homer” aired, him reciting our favorite line from the pig in Homer’s gluttonous fantasy to weight gain. “Yes, yes, that’s the spirit,” he’d say in a faux-British character accent. When we were 14, my friend Andy developed advanced testicular cancer, with a very small chance of survival (He’s alive and well today). His Make-A-Wish was to visit the Simpsons studio, and he brought me back a Simpsons comic #1, signed by the entire cast, including a drawing of Homer with the inscription, “Your pal, Matt Groening.”

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Now, though, I ask you to let the show end. Granted, I haven’t watched religiously since the Ray Romano-guested “Don’t Fear the Roofer” episode from 2005, but whenever I pop in to check out new episodes, my attention wanes. At worst, it’s unwatchable. At best, it’s fine, which reminds me of Sick Boy’s quote from Trainspotting, about a past-his-prime Lou Reed and fallen heroes: “It’s not bad, but it’s not great either. And in your heart you kind of know that although it sounds all right, it’s actually just shite.”

Of course, I can’t speak for The Simpsons’ legions of fans, but at 43 years old, I haven’t met or even spoken to anyone who champions the new episodes, let alone episodes from the last 20 years. In Simpsons fan speak, the “Golden Era” of the show is roughly seasons 2-11, or 3-12, and that’s being generous. While there have been jewels in the last 20-odd years since that time, I implore you to search your heart, Mr. Groening. The savage wit is gone, the satire a dulled edge. Homer getting hurt in increasingly illogical fashion, with Bart cackling at his misfortune, has become an increasingly bleak formula, largely ushered in by the huge disappointment of The Simpsons Movie in 2007.

Fractures in my relationship with the show began in earnest around 2005. While I actually liked the Ray Romano episode, the romance was gone: I wasn’t building future memories with the show, but rather living in the past. Trouble had been brewing since the “Tennis the Menace” episode in 2001, specifically when Homer jumps on the family’s backyard tennis net, to, ahem, hilariously “Surf the Net”: It was at turns oddly out of character, a dated reference, and a caustically unfunny sight gag aimed at I don’t know whom. Certainly not us in our early twenties or teens, who would already be savvy enough to roll their eyes.

It was the beginning of the great Simpsons Identity Crisis, a dilemma the show has never resolved as in the mid-aughts, the showrunners seemed to aim for a tween audience, with more devotion to the aforementioned sight gags and a less cerebral approach. Gone were the days of the show mentioning Pablo Neruda, the focus shifting to splashy guest stars not given a compelling story to play with. (I’m looking in your direction, “Lisa Goes Gaga.”)

Executive producer and long-running Simpsons scribe David Mirkin has long insisted that the writers and showrunners aim for an adult audience. In a 1995 interview, Mirkin stated, “We’re writing it for adults, and intelligent adults at that. We don’t really think too much of kids. We’re not thinking about kids as we’re writing the show.” Assuming this position still stands, I’m baffled by how he accounts for juvenile fart jokes, or the oversaturation of Ralph Wiggum in later years.

In all fairness, there has been support for the last two years of the show. Vulture ran a piece in 2023 about how the Simpsons has regained footing, and is “good again.” Similarly, numerous Reddit posts make the same argument, but good/ok is the general consensus, never great.

My love for the brand officially died the fateful 2007 day when I showed up to The Simpsons Movie with Chris. Our excitement had been building for months, as we eagerly snatched up all the Simpsons merch rolled out for the movie. It was our Star Wars, and we were ready.

About 10 minutes in, we began shifting uncomfortably in our seats, waiting for our first laugh. I recall perfectly that the only time we heartily laughed was when Moe called Marge “Midge,” a beloved recurring bit of him forgetting her name. We left sullen, rejected, our intelligence insulted. Sure, the brand doesn’t owe us anything, but we have a right to fight for its legacy.

Despite the “meh” attitude from Gen X and millennials that I know, the show still draws respectable numbers. Season 35, for example, averaged 1.74 million viewers — a considerable drop from the 15 million viewers who watched Season 12 in 2000, though on par with broadcast TV ratings these days.

While it’s easy to say that the show is still popular, Disney+ viewership obviously incorporates all seasons, and reports from my Simpsons friends who grew up with the show, now with families, say that their kids (a range of roughly ages 7-12) only watch the new “Treehouse of Horror” episodes. I follow two Simpsons groups on Facebook, “Obscure Simpsons Characters” and “Rancho Relaxo,” with 290K and 61.2K members respectively. Occasionally someone will post about a new episode which starts the argument all over again about the quality of new episodes. Mostly, the groups consist of Golden Era nostalgia posts and jokes.

And around the time the Golden Era ended in the aughts, comedy in general grew darker and weirder, with the ongoing dominance of South Park and the arrival of Family Guy and Adult Swim. Meanwhile, The Simpsons remained stubbornly committed to TV-PG, a trait both comforting and anachronistic. And when it attempts to go dark, it feels like overcompensating: “Treehouse of Horror XXII” (2011) is considered one of the grimmest and least fun, with “The Diving Bell and the Butterball” segment singled out as the worst Halloween segment in the show’s history. Homer is paralyzed by a spider bite, and can only communicate through flatulence. We weren’t laughing then, and I’m cringing now.

That’s ultimately what I ask of you, Mr. Groening: What do your characters still have to say, and who is actively waiting to hear it? There seems to be a mixture of network greed or artistic hubris to account for Fox granting a four-year renewal of the show. I humbly ask, to preserve the show’s legacy, to not drag it out beyond those years. I know I sound like Abe Simpson yelling at a cloud, but legacy is a tricky thing. The show’s endurance is admirable, but like a band releasing increasingly embarrassing albums after the magic is gone, commerce has overshadowed a once-great thing. Give the family and fans the dignified closure everyone deserves.

Your pal,

Drew Fortune

• Source: NEWHD MEDIA