Television Reviews from Afar #1

Written by J. Stewart Burns, directed by Pound Foolish

There has been a glut of internet discourse on the latest two-season era of The Moe Show as spearheaded by showrunner Wes Archer. The veteran director made his name on the show’s progenitor The Simpsons, and many hardcore fans of both projects will point to the fact that he directed the acclaimed 1995 episode ‘Bart Sells His Soul’. Its Moe-centric B-plot has even been canonised as the catalyst for the surly bartender’s spin-off series.

Having Archer take over for its 25th year, particularly after Season 24 (the third Matt Selman-helmed season) ended on the divisive cliffhanger ‘Moe-ney Plane Part 1’, was always going to look good on paper. What has since followed has been two seasons of ups and downs. General consensus has slung unexpected praise for the series’ heartfelt humour - the acclaimed ‘Manhattan Moe-der Mystery’ stands out with special esteem, as does the bold gun violence polemic ‘Stop, or My Moe Will Shoot’. On the other side of the barstool, claims of lazy, outdated premises are still filed, such as the epidemic-themed ‘Moe on the Inside’and the crypto-bashing ‘Bored Moe’.

Archer seemed throughout, however, to aim for the heartstrings as well as the funny bone in every episode, adding more opportunities for chemistry between Hank Azaria’s Moe and Tress MacNeille’s Maya that had been sorely lacking in the eyes of fans.

This brings us to the latest season finale, the typically awkwardly titled ‘Three Barstools Outside Ebbing, Moe-ssouri’. The source of this longwinded name is the brutal 2017 Martin McDonagh drama about police corruption and the safety of women in today’s America. A comedy series haphazardly borrowing this title will inevitably come across as frivolous. If a show wants to respect this reference, it really needs to strike at the heart as well as the funny bone. As befitting of the Archer era, this episode does all it can to achieve this, and (mostly) succeeds at giving the emotions their dues.

The plot is, shockingly, not as heavy as its title betrays. Following on from the previous episode, ‘Now You See Moe, Now You Don’t See Moe’, Maya’s unintentional dismantling of an illegal drug trade in Springfield has led to Moe acquiring the deeds to two properties, with which he can finally progress his dreams of franchising his tavern trade. The actual threat of drug lord Kasper Vanderhaegen (Martin Short) still looms, although this will likely be saved for the next showrunner (Archer clearly revels in doing unto his successor what Selman did unto him).

The plot mostly centres around Moe bidding for another dream asset, a set of three premium barstools that were part of his inspiration to join the bartending world. Another small retcon notwithstanding, J. Stewart Burns’ script dedicates a mercifully short time to the backstory, which is surprisingly a humour highlight achieved in the form of a sublime “take a seat” pun routine. This was the kind of witty wordplay that many see as distinctly lacking in the current Simpsons canon, and it definitely stands out here.

The heartstrings are, of course, predominantly plucked by the relationship between Maya and Moe. Maya’s traumatic encounter with the criminal world is played relatively straight, bar the odd gag about the aftermath of the arrests and the paparazzi trying to figure out her stage magic as if it alone was responsible for the bust, which puts Maya’s whole career under scrutiny. Of course, attempting to bring that up to a distracted Moe, whose emotional stuntedness has notably superseded his early-year central vice of uncontrolled rage, epitomises the typical caring dysfunction that has equally toned their relationship with adorable relatability and frustration.

The culminating heart-to-heart, and the choice Moe is handed regarding not only the barstools but his newfound expansions, sticks a wobbly landing for this. The actual conflict between Maya’s experiences and Moe’s newfound opportunity are left only sparsely connected in theme. The real drama is about Maya’s ambitions being broadsided by a painful experience, in which Moe appears to be the strongest beneficiary. Moe is definitely not a monster here – he’s more blinded by the glean of a golden carrot – and thus the eventual intensity of his remorse feels somewhat overwrought.

That being said, it is astonishing that we are talking this way about Moe Szyslak, a character whose humble origins were as the surly, unscrupulous bartender who both consoled and demeaned Homer Simpson. His evolution from sitcom curmudgeon to troubled and reckless but ultimately loveable dreamchaser is a stark contrast to the show from which he spawned. The case in point is the cameo from Homer here, whose whimsical espousing of wife Marge’s withered ambitions comes across as the words of the old show, gleefully mocking the downfall of an innocent character. Moe’s contrasting (eventual) concern over Maya’s loss of hope in her magic ring membership attacks the core of the original character, but in a vital way for Moe’s progression thus far.

The episode itself? It’s fine, a serviceable season finale in a long-running series, and a fittingly heartfelt end to the Archer era. The next series will under the guardianship of Donick Cary, and it will be intriguing to see his trajectory. Luckily, the show is far from stale, and in fact a testament to allowing a seemingly two-dimensional character to grow out of their laughably unpleasant larval form and crystallise into an engaging protagonist. Those who detract the show will not be swayed by the emotions here, but those invested will be satisfied. I, for one, am just left astonished that we are talking about this character in this way and over this tenure. Kudos, Mr. Archer, for bringing that to the forefront.