“Cultural phenomenon” is an overused phrase. Spoiled rich girls with enough fabricated celebrity to kick-start bizarre often generate a strange brand of morbid fascination that's easily mistaken for a meaningful shift in the Zeitgeist. Despite the colourful splatter of 10,000 supermarket gossip magazines, it never takes long for these pop culture blips to fade off the radar and into obscurity (or prison, or rehab).
It's within this context that I — in perfectly good conscience — call The Simpsons one of the most important cultural phenomenon of the past two decades. Those of us who were young enough during the show's heyday might have even taken up skateboarding in emulation of Bart, or at least adopted the ubiquitous “eat my shorts” as a stock defense against the imperious forces of elementary school authoritarianism. Indeed, certain catch-phrases and memorable lines have become accepted neologisms — Homer's trademarked “D'oh!” has even found its way into the Oxford English Dictionary.
The impact of the show on our culture has been nuclear, and really, it's no surprise: The Simpsons has aired over 400 episodes over its 20-year run, spawning a multibillion-dollar merchandising campaign that includes comics, video games, clothing and, now, a feature film.
When the first posters for the film cropped up in movie theatres across the world, the fan community erupted in speculation. No one can ignore the show's marked decline in quality as it moved away from intelligent character-based humour and into the realm of zany one-off pop culture references designed for a generation of caffeine-addled ADHD cases who consider Family Guy or Dane Cook the height of comedy. Some used this to suggest that the movie will be the last nail in the franchise's coffin, additionally citing a recent Onion AV Club interview where creator Matt Groening obliviously describes the recent seasons as “some of the best we've ever done, creatively,” contrary to the beliefs of nearly every critic around. Further support is leant to the cynics by the non-involvement of Conan O'Brien and Brad Bird — two creative forces often credited with guiding The Simpsons to its artistic and comedic peak in the mid-’90s.
Other, more optimistic fans are hopeful that the film's inclusion of many early series writers, as well as uber-accomplished director David Silverman, will mean a return to grace for the Simpson family. This camp is quick to point out the creative kill-switch built into the film’s production — the producers (all major creative forces on the show in its most successful seasons) could scrap the project at any time if they felt the result wasn't of sufficient quality. Both the skeptics and loyalists present compelling arguments but, ultimately, neither will prove correct. In a greater sense, neither will even really prove pertinent.
To be plain (and on the lofty side, perhaps): It simply doesn't matter whether the Simpsons movie is good or bad. Regardless of its quality, the show will continue to soldier on so long as it remains financially viable. The ripples it sent through our culture will continue to be felt long after the only people watching it are being forced to by grandparents with an absurdly large DVD collection. The Simpsons will be remembered for the sheer immensity of its cachet, and not for any one quibbling detail in its history. Whether the film is a blemish or a beauty mark, it will be on the cheek of a giant, and — from where we stand — awfully hard to see.
