The Simpsons: “The Kids Are All Fight”
It’s hard to write about modern-day Simpsons without comparing it to older—invariably better—classic episodes, but “The Kids Are All Fight” does the referring for me, so I say I get a pass. When an old roll of film sparks Homer and Marge’s memories of a time when the younger Bart and Lisa were fighting all the time, their reminiscences tie directly into season four’s “Lisa’s First Word.” The terrifying clown bed is there, for one, having survived at least for the year it took infant Lisa to become two-year-old Lisa, and Bart four-year old Bart—and for the genuine warmth that grew between them at the end of that episode to curdle into non-stop physical violence. That’s not a complaint—anyone who’s been around kids growing up knows how quickly the little monsters can turn on each other—but “The Kids Are All Fight” can’t help but suffer in the inevitable comparison it invites upon itself.
For all the various comic and satirical uses they’re put to, Bart and Lisa can still be effective as characters when the show reminds us that they’re still just kids. The reason why there’s still life left in the show’s central characters (and, yes, there is), is their connection to each other. The Simpsons are the American family, their problems, dreams, and 2.4 kids (sorry, Maggie)—for all the times they become cops, or astronauts, or country music managers, or TV sidekicks—are all rooted in their embodiment of the white (ok, yellow) suburban, middle class existence. I love wacky, ludicrous Simpsons as much as I love character-based, surprisingly emotional Simpsons, but there’s something about the relationship between Lisa and Bart that can take a great episode and tie a rocket to it. “Lisa’s First Word” is one of those, mainly due to how it understands the begrudging but unbreakable bond between the two. That element makes for the best bits of “The Kids Are All Fight”—unfortunately, all the good Bart/Lisa stuff in the world can do here is elevate an undistinguished episode to a mostly forgettable one. (Or, say, a C+ to a B-.)
On the good side of the ledger, it’s always a good idea to team up Bart and Lisa. As Zack Handlen pointed out in his review of the season eight finale “The Secret War Of Lisa Simpson” earlier this week, while the team-up always follows the same formula (“Bart is a troublemaker; Lisa’s intelligence has made her an outsider at school; circumstances temporarily place them at odds with one another, but ultimately find them working together as a team”), it’s always effective because of how it invokes the truths underlying their relationship. Bart’s the li’l bastard as well as the big brother, showing off as the center of attention, while carrying the reluctant knowledge that his little sister’s brains and character are going to serve her better in the long run. And Lisa is secure in her intellectual superiority (here, showing off how she can write Bart’s name better than he can), even as she looks up to her big brother’s audacity—and simply looks up to her big brother. (Not to overdo it on the nostalgia, but the way she delightedly repeats Bart’s name—the first word of “Lisa’s First Word” is as joyously moving a summation of sibling hero worship as you’ll see anywhere.)
Tonight, that relationship works its magic on the busy flashback plot, as Bart and Lisa—lost in Springfield after fleeing the apparent death of babysitter Grandma Flanders—put their various talents together to overcome bullies, the Springfield tire fire, traffic, really steep hills, and adult incompetence/indifference. There’s no real motivation for why the two were fighting so much six years ago, but, again, kids do that. But it’s affecting how their gradual thawing stems from mutual self-defense, not only against the big, bad world, but also against that world’s callous plans to set them on predetermined tracks. When the frazzled Marge and Homer take the fractious kids to a child psychologist, her glib determination (after only 15 minutes of their session) that “one of your children is smart and good, the other is dim and evil” is just the sort of thing that sibling bonds suit up for. (I’m glad Homer stole the Altoids from her waiting room.) It’s on their further encounters with a world all-too-willing to disregard their individuality that their incessant combat softens to what present-day Lisa terms “the uneasy alliance we enjoy today.”