In college, there was a guy—let’s call him Rider—who was always charitable to the homeless. Always. He never hesitated to buy one of them a sandwich, let them bum a cigarette, or throw them a buck or two whenever they asked for it. But his generosity came at a price. For one, it gave him a severe case of self-righteousness. Anyone who wasn’t as charitable as him; anyone who didn’t give up their lunch or their cash or cigs was automatically a cold-blooded asshole.
Even worse, his open heart ended up causing him some serious trouble. When one drifter needed a place to say, Rider invited him into his home with no questions asked, going as far to buy him groceries, more cigarettes, and even booze. Several folks told him this was a bad idea, and sure enough, he came home one day to discover that most of his shit had been stolen, with his house guest nowhere in site. That’s not to say that every homeless person—or, in the case of “Bart Carny,” every carnival worker—is a thief or a swindler. Then again, some of them, like the guy Rider took in, are. Scumminess transcends financial brackets. There are plenty of sleaze-balls who are poor, just like there are plenty of them who are rich.
Maybe that’s why “Bart Carny”’s less than savory portrayal of carnival workers has never bothered me. The characters need to be depicted as manipulative for the episode’s final statement to work. Still, it’s understandable why it’s been viewed by many as a low point in the tail-end of The Simpsons’ glory years. The encyclopedic I Can’t Believe It’s A Bigger And Better Unofficial Simpsons Guide, for example, lambasted the script’s supposed lack of a message, viewing its treatment of fairground folk as nothing but malicious.
Fair enough. After all, much of the humor does stem from a slimier-than-slime portrait of the carnival lifestyle; most of the employees (most notably Cooder and his son, Spud) are portrayed as true crooks, and during one darkly brilliant sequence, director Mark Kirkland puts a carny spin on the “Morning Mood” montage seen in so many Golden Age cartoons.
Only instead of a flower blooming as the sun comes up, we get a greasy wrapper unfolding to reveal a half-eaten Krusty Burger on the ground. Awakening field mice are traded out for rats running on the rollers of a hot-dog warmer like it’s a treadmill. A vendor who looks related to Cletus The Slack-Jawed Yokel squirts them off with a hose, laughing dopily all the while. Funny as it is, the bit is undoubtedly cruel towards the people Homer earlier praises as “truly kings among men.”
That very divide—the difference between how Homer and Bart see carnival workers and how the ones they meet actually are—forms the comedic nucleus of “Bart Carny.” That alone makes the Simpson family (the father and the son, anyway) as much the butt of the joke as Cooder and Spud. Just look at the front half of the episode. There’s a running gag about Bart, Lisa, and Homer’s aversion to getting any kind of work done during the summer. When Marge asks the kids to tend to their overgrown yard, they’re re-plastered to the couch before she can even bring them lemonade as a refreshment. Yet, when the Simpsons head to the carnival, Bart and Lisa can’t wait to take a spin on the Yard Work Simulator, a virtual-reality attraction that still involves a real rake and hedge clippers. The children would be going through the same exact motions if doing real yard work, but when it’s presented to them with a huge line of other kids and a shysterly sales pitch, they’re eager to take part. This desire to want something only because they think other people want it that makes them, like so many Americans, complete rubes.
The same goes for Homer when he rides a dental nightmare of a roller coaster called The Tooth Chipper, despite Marge warning him about his history of heart problems, and Bart and Lisa again when they pay for the obviously lame Screamatorium because a carnival barker tells them there are only two tickets left. It’s worth pointing out that when they emerge from the “haunted” dark ride with disappointed looks on their faces (the scariest thing inside is an old lady in a rocking chair: “Behold… the ravages of age!”), the ticket taker expresses genuine remorse. “Sorry,” he says while glumly bowing his head, showing shades of Gil Gunderson as he internally laments what his life has become. It’s a brief but important moment, as it’s one of the few times in the episode where we see a carnival worker being something other than deceitful. This instance of humanity disproves the Unofficial Simpsons Guide’s accusation of “Bart Carny”’s unqualified toxicity.