Something I think about is straight-up replication of style. The rise in AI specifically has led to discussion on what it means to be a person and to have a specific creative voice; many have correctly noted that LLMs and other generative AI are only capable of empty imitation, and indeed that most examples shared that aren’t outright incoherent simply present the most broadly popular idea of ‘good taste’, creating spectacle without any substance, personality, or emotion. I was actually worried for a while that what I do could actually be replicated by a semi-randomized word generator, and I tested out trying to write an essay with ChatGPT; trying out “write me an essay comparing Mass Effect and the films of Quentin Tarantino in the style of George Orwell” got something that was readable and basically correct but, you know, could have been written by any idiot familiar with all three of those elements. The amount of work I was putting in to get to a good prompt was not worth the results.
On the other hand, the idea of these parameters as a creative motivation – to see oneself as an LLM – has preoccupied me. Apparently, one of the best ways to be smart is to imagine what a smart person would do in your situation and then do that. Mindless recreation of the past is something a lot of critics tend to be harsh on, but I do think that using someone else’s style as a structure to build your own thoughts on is a necessary part of the learning process, and can allow you to go to new and interesting places, and two TV shows that I think point to this are Justified and Bob’s Burgers.
Justified has the significant advantage of beginning as literal adaptation; the first episode is an adaptation of the Elmore Leonard short story “Fire in the Hole”. However, it deliberately held itself to the principles of a Leonard novel; creator Graham Yost kept his writers in line with the phrase “What would Elmore Leonard do?”. The three chief demonstrations of this: the American crime genre, the sparkling dialogue that takes the long way around a sentence, and impulsive acts of violence that come out of nowhere and rapidly push the story in one inevitable direction. This complete dedication to one voice ends up carrying it through even weaker patches; I’m happy just to listen to these people talk.
Roger Ebert once described movies as empathy-generating machines; I do believe he meant that they generate empathy with the characters onscreen, and he was right, but I also think it’s correct to think of them as generating empathy for the worldview they present and how they say things through cinematic technique. When we talk about movies critically, even the most criticism-averse viewers – those who think of critics as snobbish elites because they had the temerity to not like the movie they liked – tend to make the mistake of thinking of movies as exclusively idea-generating machines, where the value is exclusively within the ideas the movie presents (and, more often, the ideas the characters directly talk about). This can be fun, but it can also reduce all art to its value as propaganda.
Justified presents us with art as a pleasure-generating machine, and Leonard’s voice answers the most basic question of that: where does the pleasure come from? In this case, the way people talk, and the shock value that comes with violence. The mistake that imitators can make – which Justified does not – isn’t in recreating the past, but in forgetting to ask what we take pleasure in from this past idea. You can compare Justified taking on Leonard’s voice with how Bryan Fuller told the Hannibal directors to treat each episode as a moody European arthouse film; the pleasure there is intense, Gothic imagery, and so we know that even in the most expository or even pointless scene, we’re gonna see that shit.
When it comes to Bob’s Burgers… Okay, I have no idea if BB was actually intended to be an update of The Simpsons for 2011. I’ve never found any commentary from the writers or producers as to how much influence America’s favourite family had on America’s new favourite family, and I’m gleefully engaging in a classic academic impulse of treating wild speculation as fact and going from there. That said, I think it’s useful to treat BB as a kind of next-generation Simpsons and act as if it were a kind of corrective to that show.
The big thing I can never get past is that it has very much the same kind of tone; the basic idea of both shows is a working class family in an American small town that comes into conflict constantly, struggles to make enough money to live, and in particular with parents who aren’t perfect but try their best, with the characters ultimately loving and caring for one another and this giving them a sense of hope. Both shows have a bittersweet sense where we’re constantly failing but constantly almost succeeding that makes us believe a better future is possible (this unintentionally creates a bleak undertone to both shows going for decades with sliding timescales; season sixteen has an episode that flashes back to 2012 when the show began in 2011).
Bob’s Burgers recycles some joke ideas from The Simpsons; the most notable to me are the suggestions that Gene is gender-fluid that are similar to jokes about Bart and Homer (though, tangent: I’m irritated with the fandom for giving me the impression that Gene is constantly dressing up like a woman and playing female roles. There’s more proof that Abe Simpson is gender-fluid in the first eight seasons of The Simpsons than there is for Gene across sixteen seasons of BB). It’s more present to me in the characters and how they’re built, and how they are ‘structured’ differently.
At first I thought that the characters were completely, startlingly original, and that is still true, but you can also see not only how characters fit the same ‘types’, but how ‘types’ are actually swapped across gender lines. Like Homer and Marge, Bob and Linda are an impulsive free-spirit married to a wet blanket with odd preoccupations, it’s just the man and woman have been swapped around. Louise has both Bart’s impulsiveness and his ability to regret following his impulses on a deep moral level. The one matchup on gender lines is that Tina and Lisa are both creative types caught between personal idealism (to the point of stubbornness) and serving a larger community, with the difference that Tina lacks Lisa’s confidence.
(If Gene lifts from another character – and I doubt he does, given how he kind of grew into his personality over the first season – that character is not in The Simpsons)
You can also see how much the show has discarded to make the show fit a kind of ‘nicecore’ attitude. For one thing, Bob doesn’t strangle his son, but also there are larger conceptual choices made that soften the characters; my favourite is that, like Homer, Bob is working gruelling hours to support his large family, but it’s in his dream job. Like, sure, he’s exhausting himself, never has time for everything, and never has enough money to pay rent, but he’s spending his days doing exactly what he wants to do. Depending on my mood and the plot, I’m either sympathetic to Bob’s exhaustion or annoyed that he’s complaining so much about doing something somebody else wants to do; this is very different to Homer generally being sympathetic for having to work a shitty job, unsympathetic for selfish and lazy behaviour, but also kind of sympathetic because he’s somewhere he hates eight hours a day, five days a week. To put it another way: Bob’s life is generally how he wants it, he just wishes it was easier; Homer is trapped in a shitty life and making the best of it.
This also speaks to the differences in overall intellectual heft. BB is much, much more formulaic than Golden Age Simpsons; every plot can be divided into one of three categories. The first is a basic Restoration comedy plot, where a character finds themselves in a situation, commits to a stupid plan, watches the plan wobble and fall, then picks up the pieces after with a poignant speech; the other two are characters riffing on an idea (like Teddy owning a tub with caterpillars cocooning in it or Tiny not liking her babysitter) or three-parodies-in-one-episode montages.
This has two benefits, one going into an episode and the other coming out. Firstly, it reduces the difficulty of constructing an episode; one can pretty much plug in a few details and get the rest of the way very quickly. Secondly, it makes the show feel more light on its feet. There’s a weight and intensity to The Simpsons that comes from it having both script and visuals be beaten into something dense and strong; jokes and structure are worked out methodically and in great detail, with writers working together to make jokes as funny as humanly possible, and most of the writers were educated enough to come up with obscure jokes.
Bob’s Burgers is more approachable (the one thing I don’t like about it at all is the disdain characters show for learning or reading). I’ve reached the point of annoying my partner slightly because I can predict how plots are going to resolve; I suspect this predictability is part of the appeal, like hearing a chord progression resolve. The pleasure of novelty of information is combined with the pleasure of predictability. This relates to The Simpsons in that it’s a structure that takes the best parts of individual scenes of the show to create this formula; reorganizing it into a neater structure. If you’ll excuse the awkwardness of the metaphor, The Simpsons has a much higher ceiling of quality but risks a much lower floor that can only be avoided with a lot of hard work; Bob’s Burgers has a lower ceiling (its heights tend to come from particularly vivid concepts) but also a higher floor, and it’s managed to spin the concepts of The Simpsons into a much more consistent output over a much longer time.
About the writer
Tristan J. Nankervis
Tristan J Nankervis (aka Drunk Napoleon) has been a writer, pop culture critic, dishwasher, standup comedian, waiter, potato cake factory worker, gamer, TV worker, and various other things. You can find him in Hobart, Tasmania.
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Year of the Month
High fantasy for people what who have to work for money.
"There are other things than smart." / "Yeah, those are not smart."
Year of the Month
Well, it's not realistic. I suppose it's socialist.
Department of
Conversation
What did we watch?
Happy Endings, Season Two, Episode Twelve, “Makin’ Changes”
“My ex-boyfriend – as of four minutes ago – is super into cross-country skiing.”
“You always change to fit a guy.”
“No! Sometimes I change to fit a girl if she’s got cute guy friends.”
“Every choice you make in your life is monumentally wrong.”
“It’s funny because it’s sad!”
“A scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me. I can’t turn on a mantra like that.”
“Why wasn’t there a black man on Jackass? A brother can’t staple his buttcheeks together?”
“I love my babies. And by babies, I mean, of course, my magazines.”
“Her hoarding’s been really hard on me. Mainly because I’m addicted to eating magazines.”
“That’s four Vs.”
“Yeah!”
“That’s almost five.”
“He says ‘sick’ and ‘dog’, and sadly never when referring to a sick dog!”
“Have you heard the new Joyce Carol Oates? It is sick, dog!”
“Uncle Rich!”
“Uncle Rich?”
“My Uncle Rich?”
Elisha Cuthbert is in the exact same space as Alec Balwdin on 30 Rock – the exact middle point between sincerity and irony.
“Argh, that’s my good nipple!”
“Wait, why do you have idea face right now?”
Penny’s plot is reminding me of a guy I knew in high school who had, like, frosted tips and a faux-hawk and was very alternative, and the last time I saw him was on Facebook where he was taking photos with his wife and kid where they were all wearing or sitting on things that were either white or beige.
“Old Brad didn’t take baths. He took showers because his tub was filled with 311 CDs.”
“Yes, Jeff, your apartment looks seriously nice.”
Penny is at her funniest constructing a sentence and the delivery like that.
“Jeff, you’re a great guy.”
“True.”
“How are you quote-unquote errands, Dave?”
“If that even is your real name.”
“Boy, I wish my last name was a cookie.”
There’s a real strong element of play-acting to this show that I really respond to. Like, not to the level of Troy and Abed on Community, but definitely the characters and actors having fun melodramatically acting out TV shows and movies, and it’s the most fun part of the show.
“Mmmmm…. it’s me. Point taken.”
Phil Lamarr!
“Don’t be scared! It’s exactly what it looks like.”
“I’m addicted to how you look in that argyle.”
“This is not the place for that.”
“Why do you wear so many V-necks?”
“Piercing question, Phil.”
“Is that Old Jane?”
“Let’s just go with Previous Jane.”
“I was a preemie too! No I wasn’t, I was five weeks late. I do not know what’s wrong with me.”
Bob’s Burgers
Officially seen the whole show now.
Futurama, Current Season
Finished this off, and it was a lousy end. “Ocean’s Three” was just kind of lazy – the show has never really found the spark of inspiration for the anthology episodes since the CC seasons – and the crossover with Disenchantment involves spending a lot of time in, you know, the show I don’t like. It was amazing how much funnier the crossover became whenever Fry spoke (up to and including his being moved by the reunion despite having no idea who the hell any of those people were).
Home Movies\
Was going to watch Adults but I told my partner about H Jon Benjamin’s other show and they were very interested in it. I was worried it would actually be the H Jon Benjamin show, and while I am often asking where Coach McGuirk is when he’s not onscreen, there’s still a lot here; Paula in particular manages to kill me with offhand lines (although I’ve just gotten to the point where her actress was switched). But yes, McGuirk is something cosmic; after nearly twenty seasons of Bob Belcher, it’s very funny to come to this and hear a totally different rhythm – like a train heading inevitably towards a cow on the tracks. I know HM was not only retroscripted but invented the term itself, and I strongly suspect Benjamin and Brendon Smalls were competing a little bit to be funnier, which only makes it even funnier.
Like a lot of early-to-mid [adult swim]*, there’s very silly comedy with agonsingly serious emotions hiding under it. Brendon is alienated from almost everything but movies; his teacher Ron observes that he could be very successful if he applied himself to schoolwork as hard as he did his movies, and he’s completely unable to express that and how he doesn’t care (in this respect, Bob’s Burgers is more articulate and mature but less emotionally resonant). The running joke through the show is that Brendon can only really express himself through these movie parodies.
*I think the cutoff point would be the third season of The Venture Bros, which alongside contemporary Moral Orel (which I have not seen) turned the subtext into text.
The adults in the show – especially McGuirk – give an adult perspective to the whole thing, having long ago fallen into patterns that aren’t really healthy but keep them alive. A neat touch is that most of the characters do enjoy being around each other, they just hate the things they actually do with each other (incredibly funny that McGuirk doesn’t actually know anything about coaching, let alone soccer and is mostly compensating by yelling).
“Elisha Cuthbert is in the exact same space as Alec Balwdin on 30 Rock – the exact middle point between sincerity and irony.” I think in the Vulture oral history of the show, they talk about how hard she tried because she had been the “hot girl” in so many things and wanted to prove that she was extremely funny (which she did!)
Benjamin and Small were absolutely trying to crack each other up while recording Home Movies (not just Brendon and McGuirk but Brendon and Jason), later seasons are less reliant on improvisation but still have that vibe. That UPN season is extremely rough, animation-wise, but has great bits throughout, I think it really finds its footing with Adult Swim (and with DiTullio instead of Poundstone, as funny as the latter is). But yeah, one way to view Benjamin’s voicings is that McGuirk is hungover while Bob is not, the ragged edge and surly confidence/suspicion as opposed to Bob’s weary equanimity. And Bob creates things, as you note in the article — McGuirk’s coaching is yelling, Brendon and Melissa accept being yelled at, it’s wonderful dysfunction as excuse to hang out. Similar to the movies themselves! Anyway, Home Movies rules, you guys will have fun.
Yeah, I meant to specify that Bob’s rhythm is that he’s constantly starting sentences not knowing how they’re going to end and eventually turning them all into questions. McGuirk just plows forward, completely trusting that everything he’s saying makes 100% sense.
I actually love the rough animation, but then I love anything that commits to being abrasive.
The camping episode is the funniest use of the animation, just straight up blackness for as much as they can get away with.
Another Bob’s Burgers comparison going forward is the music — Small wrote nearly all of it here and there aren’t as much “songs” as Bob’s has, but the flexibility and willingness to toss out a tune is a crucial part of both shows.
Yeah, the camping episode in general is a highlight – McGuirk in an ultimate position of responsibility and he just can’t bring himself to just toss it aside even though he really, really wants to, and having half of it be just their eyes kills me.
The New York Ripper – a Fulci video-nasty that I’ve had on my shelf forever. Like most of his films, it’s unpleasant, frequently sloppy and yet weirdly compelling in a way a lot of shock-value Italian horror is not, to me at least. I enjoyed the extremely world-weary detective, the killer score, the extremely lassez-faire approach to making any of the locations look like New York (there are a LOT of Italian posters on walls) and the frequently incoherent dialogue. The violence is pretty brutal but in a film like this that’s kinda essential, so I’m okay with being a little shaken up by it.
Seinfeld, S9 – “The Burning” was a pretty good one, mostly thanks to Kramer and Mickey getting an acting job performing disease symptoms to medical students, but also for a good amount of Puddy. “The Book Store” didn’t quite come together, some decent laughs but it’s not one I’ll really remember.
Ludwig, S2E5 – a fun case, murder at a sushi restaurant with a conveyor-belt (poisoned) food system. And the show’s main plot is really heating up, intrigued for the finale.
Live Music – last week I saw a hardcore band from the North called Irked, this weekend I saw a hardcore band from the North called Irk. No connection between the two. Odd. I was more into one of the other bands on the bill though, a kinda psych-leaning metal band called Pohl who had good riffs and energy.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIII LIVE HARDCORE
Tales From The Crypt, “Seance” – It’s funny when the Cryptkeeper does a ton of buildup but the episode in question has a fairly flat title. Still a terrific story about two grifters/squabbling exes trying to con a rich man via one last job with lots of smart twists and ghoulish turns. A showcase for Cathy Moriarty as the more ruthless of the two (“Have some respect for the dead” “I do, I have very little respect.”) and John Vernon, heh, crushing it…or is it getting crushed? EEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE! (This makes more sense when you see the episode.)
T Blockers – a young trans woman and her friends beat the shit out of dudes who have been infected with worms that encourage their latent patriarchal violence, it’s unclear if the freakish monster worms are alien or just native to Australia. Alice Maio Mackay apparently made this when she was 17 and for $10,000, it’s sloppy in structure (some parts drag while other parts skip quickly like a scene is missing) but the overall energy is full of angry camaraderie in the face of annihilation and the film looks great, tons of color filters that are their own defiance against flat indie streamer sheen. A movie a cis guy like myself can enjoy but one that is clearly made by and for people who are not me, cool to see.
Live art — Milton Avery, Adolph Gottlieb and Mark Rothko walk into a bar, I mean walk into Gloucester in the 30s and 40s and wind up hanging out together, sketching and painting and influencing each other’s style as they pull colors from the coast. The Cape Ann Museum put on an exhibit of their work and we caught it on the second-to-last day, it was very well organized with sketchbooks augmenting the completed works and a lot of in-between paintings of folks at the beach, increasingly abstracted. The trio eventually relocated to Provincetown and several paintings from that era were there as well; Avery was two decades older than Gottlieb and Rothko and it’s fascinating to see him becoming nearly as abstract as Rothko, although his blocky colors always have a landscape at their core. As always, Rothko in reality is so much more than on the page — the size and structure of his abstractions, the border colors along with the blocks, can sink into your brain at nonverbal levels. But his earlier paintings have their own power, Two Figures Near The Waterfront freezes a moment of dance?attack? in an ominous blur while The Bathers’ fleshy bodies recline under a menacing grey-pink sky. Gottlieb had some great stuff too, I particularly liked the deceptively simplistic chalk lines of Mariner’s Incantation and the more complicated colors and shapes behind them: https://www.wikiart.org/en/adolph-gottlieb/mariners-incantation-1945
And the rest of the museum (that we saw, we missed an entire floor) is great too! Of particular note was the ongoing exhibit/collection of the Folly Cove Designers, a Cape Ann-based collective of print artists who were largely self-taught and rigorous but often whimsical in their detail. Fascinating stuff: https://old.capeannmuseum.org/collections/folly-cove-designers/
Barney Miller, “Quarantine, part one” – A perp is very ill and the doctor on the case says he’s got either chickenpox or smallpox. So the station house is quarantined, meaning Barney’s weekend away with his wife (now unseen more or less for good) and Harris’s hot date are off, a sex worker is stuck flirting with Fish, and the homophobic Wojo and Luger coping with semi-regulars Marty and Mr. Driscoll. Interesting time capsule as back then, most people had been vaccinated for smallpox and the disease was still not declared eradicated, so there’s not out and out panic. Great line from our gay couple, talking about wanting to move to San Francisco, where gays have become part of business and government: “…just like everywhere else,” Mr. Driscoll drolly notes.
The Timekeepers Of Eternity – The TV movie for King’s The Langoliers was not very good except for Bronson Pinchot’s a-hole. I remember a little from King’s original story. Aristotelis Maragkos has taken each frame of the film, photocopied it to paper, and in a bravura bit of editing, repurposed and streamlined it down to a one-hour Twilight Zone episode. He centers BP’s performance as being more psychological and made the liminal space of airports and flying much more terrifying.
Objective, Burma! [George’s “Prognosis, Negative” voice] – After completing a mission Errol Flynn leads a band of brothers through the Burmese jungle trying to get back to base. Short on jingoism, patriotic speeches, inflated heroics and “girl back home” sentimentality this was an about face to what was coming out at the time (1945). One guy talking about a dead buddy says, “He always kept asking what we were fighting for.” Nobody steps in with an answer. To be sure, the filmmakers do believe the war to be just. But instead of overt inspirational patriotism the script is full of vile propaganda and casual racism about how the Japanese are barbaric and evil animals that need to be exterminated. What the film does well is focus on strategy and tactics, details of jumping out of a plane, atabrine tablets, military process, map reading, communication and the dissemination of information. What would be the end of most WWII films – destroying a Japanese radar tower – comes about forty-minutes in this two and half-hour film. After that it becomes a survival picture about the Joes getting back to base led by the unflappable Flynn. With no place to land a plane the men are forced to march their way back through the jungle with the Japanese on their tails. Raoul Walsh directs some great action. The final battle is a handful of guys on a hill holding off the Japanese at night. It starts with the Japanese crawling with knives among the GI’s foxholes, soundless, with no music and nary a shot being fired. But when Flynn lights up the sky with a flair exposing the hillside full of Japanese (an amazing shot by James Wong Howe), the bullets start flying. A bit of a hurdle with the racism but this was fantastic.
Oooh, Objective Burma sounds intriguing.
What did we play?
Immortals: Fenyx Rising – I fancied some big adventurey console action gaming and this a) always comes up on “games to play if you enjoyed Breath of the Wild” lists and b) is pretty much always reduced to absurdly low prices for some reason. So far, it’s pretty fun – I like that it gives you the cool godly abilities pretty quickly (Icarus wings etc) and it has a good sense of humour. It doesn’t do as good a job hiding its clichéd game-y elements as Zelda though, lots of grindy quests, additional items available for real-world currency and not as much general personality. But I think it’ll be a fun one to keep dipping into for some bright sunny escapism.
Year of the Month updates:
Here’s all the movies, albums, books from 1998 you can sign up for this October!
Oct. 3rd: Gillian Nelson: Movie Surfers
Oct. 4th: Tristan J. Nankervis: Pi
Oct. 9th: Gillian Nelson: Mighty Joe Young
Oct. 13th: John Bruni: High Art
Oct. 18th: Tristan J. Nankervis: Who Moved My Cheese?
Oct. 30th: Gillian Nelson: Halloweentown
And there’s still time to write about any of these movies, albums, books, etc. from 1937.
Sept. 25th: Gillian Nelson: Donald’s Ostrich
And coming in November, get ready to write about anything from 1968! Here’s some lists of movies, albums, books, and TV to get you started.
Night of the Living Dead for the 8th and Slouching Towards Bethlehem for the 22nd, please Sam!