Enjoy..
"For nearly a century, pen-and-ink creatures have been entertaining children. Animated bears, rabbits, ducks and mice have become universal childhood companions. Cartoons are for kids, right? Not anymore. In fact, the past decade has witnessed an invasion of edgy TV animation that continues to breed shows eager to scribble outside the lines of conventional, kid-friendly content.
In 1989, Matt Groening forever changed the face of cartoons when Fox premiered his creation, The Simpsons, an adult-minded satire of suburban family life. A few years later, MTV introduced Beavis and Butt-head. Soon, the floodgates opened. Now it seems everyone is making cartoons targeted at more mature audiences, who also happen to have more disposable income (a fact not lost on advertisers). And with the advent of television's "we-warned-you" ratings system, the animated envelope is primed for pushing . . . with millions of spellbound teens and preteens 'tooning in.
One of this year's biggest new shows actually debuted last spring on Fox: Futurama (Groening's latest venture). It's intentionally designed to tweak social mores and raise the ire of conservative viewers. That's something The Simpsons has been doing for over a decade. But as with so many other cultural trends, what used to be inflammatory has become pass�. Three Emmys and a Peabody Award helped families grow accustomed to Bart and Homer Simpson's love-hate relationship and sharp sarcasm. This acceptance has prompted Groening to take yet another step out of bounds. "It's kind of sad that we no longer offend people," he told TV Guide, "The Simpsons used to be the downfall of Western civilization." Since it isn't anymore, he apparently felt compelled to fill the void.
While employing the same witty satire as Groening's earlier work, Futurama is set in the year 3000--an era of starships, robots and aliens. Thrust into this flamboyant world is an average twentieth-century pizza delivery boy named Fry who stumbles onto--then into--a cryogenic chamber. Thawing out 1,000 years later, he is startled to find his world vastly changed . . . yet strangely familiar.
Equipped with no moral compass to speak of, Fry explores his new environment. He needs a job, so he joins the crew of a starship package-delivery service (the future of FedEx?). Along for the ride is Bender, a bizarrely anti-social robot. Among other things, Bender drinks, smokes, swears, steals, cheats, lies and uses pornography. He frequents robot strip clubs and solicits prostitutes. Fry learns quite a bit from Bender, most of it dreadful.
The ship's one-eyed alien captain, Leela, while promiscuous and quick to solve problems with violence, stays busy trying to keep Fry from getting killed by one self-induced disaster after another. Playing mother to her crew's childish antics, she forges a familial quality onboard. Quarrels, insults and teasing give way to comradery, loyalty and even occasional self-sacrifice.
Garish landscapes are littered with advertisements for everything from prostitutes to suicide machines. Yes, suicide machines. These little phone-booth lookalikes pepper the sidewalks of "New New York City." Step inside, deposit a quarter (or the 3000 equivalent thereof), choose "instant" or "torturous" and presto, you're dead.
Depending on one's perspective, Futurama's jabs at current trends and social icons can be either enlightening or repulsive. But even viewers who find them insightful must wade through a significant amount of muck. Characters routinely joke about homosexuality, God, intercourse, Hell, masturbation, Satan, genitals, Christianity and "family values."
Modern TV animation isn't what it used to be. Now more than ever, parents must discern what is appropriate, not just for children, but for the whole family. Just because a two-dimensional image looks innocent (South Park anyone?) doesn't make it so. Mickey, Bugs and the Jetsons have left the building . . . and the new tenants are already trashing the place."
Something tells me these people don't quite get it.