And I further decree that everything
will be just like it was before all this happened.
And no one will ever mention it again.
[PEOPLE CHEER]
This knowing statement issued with a nudge-nudge-wink-wink,
delivered in the closing minutes,
was one of the earliest moments we knew The Simpsons would do
what it wanted with no abandon after years of intelligent
heartfelt comedy, the principal and the pauper flat out told us
things were about to change.
And not for the better.
The Simpsons will always be a show that warrants discussion,
from family dynamics, romantic relationships,
and what exactly is small-town life?
The creators wanted to both satirize and celebrate the day
to day life of existence.
We felt safe in Springfield.
We have roots here, Homer.
We have friends and family and library cards.
Bart's lawyer is here.
And while the newer seasons have lessened that trust,
and includes inarguably worse episodes,
there were long stretches of perfection,
which makes season nine, episode two,
"The Principal and the Pauper," hit us
in the gut so much harder.
The episode was written by pre-Futurama co-executive
producer Ken Keeler and directed by Stephen Dean Moore.
Aired on the tail-end of what is widely
considered the golden era of The Simpsons in 1997,
it was a rare misstep that unfortunately became
a harbinger of things to come.
The episode feels slightly off, right out the gate.
Focusing on secondary character Principal Seymour Skinner.
We follow him through his daily routine,
until his mother sneaks him into an anniversary
ceremony in his own honor.
Put on your special suit and get in the car!
Yes, mother.
So far, the setup is different than normal,
but there are still a few wonderfully clever jokes
to hold our hands.
And there is something nice and kind
in seeing Skinner relish in the mundane.
They are telling us that Skinner doesn't want or need
excitement and change.
When we finally settle into the idea
that we are following Principle Skinner,
the episode drops its first bombshell.
The man we know as Principal Skinner is actually
a man named--
Armin Tamzarian.
[PEOPLE GASP] [BART LAUGHS]
And yeah, it comes as out of nowhere as it sounds.
A conveniently passing soldier in a taxi
happens to notice the billboard celebrating Skinner
and interrupts the ceremony to declare
that he is, in fact, Skinner.
Already, there's so many problems with this setup,
from the unusual opening to the plot necessary coincidence
of "right street, right time."
It all feels so rushed.
Whereas previous episodes took their time
in explaining why or how this was happening,
this episode has a goal that it barrels
toward like a runaway train.
While we've had episodes that do follow other characters,
generally, at least one family member
was more firmly invested.
When The Simpsons do show up for the flashback,
they're just more vessels to dump exposition into.
Oh, it's one of those stories.
Speaking of the exposition, the abbreviated version
is Armin was a troubled kid forced
to enlist in the Army, who assumes his mentor's identity
when they're presumed dead.
Yet somehow, instead of moving the story along
to deal with the repercussions of that fraud,
the episode manages to meander about
as though a criminal act hasn't taken place in front
of their eyes for 20 years.
In dealing with comedy shows, especially through the 90s,
we as an audience grew accustomed to suspending
our disbelief to follow along as we enjoy the plot.
But the plot here is so alien and completely out
of left field, we are constantly second-guessing the show's
logic, wondering why nobody in the small-town
realized this wasn't their hometown hero returned
from war.
In the flashback, the real Skinner
himself constantly told heartfelt stories
about their childhood in the idyllic Springfield.
Armin found the story so moving that he decided
to straighten out his life and maybe someday settle down
in a town like Springfield.
When Skinner is presumed missing,
Armin volunteers to deliver the news only
to slip into the life of Skinner.
But again, we don't see any of the decision-making.
We are only told very briefly.
And honestly, there's nothing interesting in how it's done.
Perhaps if Armin had a scheme, only
to be charmed by the small community.
Or if Armin had done something more malicious to conceal
his identity.
But that never happens, beyond a kind
lie to make a lonely, old woman happy.
And Mrs. Skinner tells her own lie.
It's clear she knows this isn't her son, but letting him in
is easier than acknowledging the truth.
But the Springfield we're shown just
rebukes Skinner stories at every turn.
This was the first episode to make the town feel genuinely
heartless, both to the plight of the recently
freed-from-a-sweatshop Skinner and the now-aimless Armin.
Just put an X, then call yourself whatever
the hell you want.
My name may have changed, but I'm still
the same man I was last week.
Not to us, you're not.
There's just a general level of indifference on display
that we haven't seen before in Springfield.
The town has always been filled with eccentrics,
characters that act as both oddities
and extreme in their belief.
But here, they seem apathetic to the plot happening around them.
And that apathy seems to apply to Skinner and Armin also.
Skinner quickly drops any anger directed towards Armin,
after realizing his mother had been taken care
of during his imprisonment.
While Armin is quick to abandon a life we know he loves,
this episode single-handedly devastated
our idea of Armin's beliefs.
While the side characters have always been eccentric,
they were also consistent in their eccentricities.
Burns is money-hungry.
Moe is a lovable loser.
Sideshow Bob is a murderer.
And the principal loved his job.
But not in this episode.
As soon as an obstacle approaches,
Armin leaves Springfield for his hometown of Capital City.
Up yours, children.
When he gets to the city, there's
an immediate sense of missed opportunities.
Instead of still working to be a mentor, a skill he's supposedly
picked up from Skinner, Armin is wallowing in self-pity.
Not only does this episode destroy the idea of Armin
as Principal Skinner, it quickly walks back the idea
that Armin turned his life around.
This is Armin's life.
And maybe it's not perfect.
But at least I'm back where I belong.
It's this haphazard approach to character
that runs throughout "The Principal and the Pauper"
that blatantly tells us none of this matters.
Having a principal turn out to be as much of a troublemaker
as one of the show's most beloved characters
was almost a stroke of genius.
There are countless stories to be told around this idea.
The fact that Armin could be to Bart what Skinner was to him.
With this new context of who the principal really is,
we can understand Armin's frustration.
No longer just uptight, he's seeing the boy he was,
knowing the man he could be.
It has to be heartbreaking, knowing
there is a chance for Bart that the kid just won't take.
But, none of this happens.
"The Principal and the Pauper" was almost
like the comic book What If? or Elseworlds, stories that warp
and tweak an origin or write an abstract idea
without the restraints of continuity.
But in the years we had been watching The Simpsons,
episodes like this did not exist.
This wasn't a prediction, like Lisa's future in "Lisa's
Wedding" three seasons earlier.
"The Principal and the Pauper" presented
itself as true and steadfast.
Until the ending minutes, when Skinner's mother
and The Simpsons decide Armin must return to Springfield,
the town rallies behind them.
They excommunicate the real Skinner
by tying him to a chair atop a train car,
cheering as he's pulled away.
When Armin asks, what they do now,
our judge decrees to the entire town,
"We'll act like none of this happened."
And they do.
The show carries on, Armin being Skinner once again,
and we just don't speak about it.
There are definitely less funny, heartwarming,
or technically well-written episodes than "The Principal
and The Pauper."
Part of what makes this episode feel like such a betrayal
is the fact that it sets a precedent the show will
eventually follow for years.
With this single episode, the showrunners and creative team
told us, "We'll just do whatever we want.
Partly for shock.
Partly for experimentation.
But mostly, because we can."
And they are not wrong.
This show is in fact their show.
They are the ones who have been trusted and hired
to work upon the scripts and development.
But that doesn't mean the stories ring any less hollow.
There is no art without a level of indifference.
As an audience, we don't always know what we want.
It takes creators making brave choices
to guide us along with them.
But those choices need to be confident and assured.
"The Principal and the Pauper" literally
tells us, in its closing minutes, none of this matters.
Well, from now on, you're going to see a new Seymour Skinner.
Oh, no.
We won't.
Yes, mother.
Not for Skinner.
Not for Armin, not for the creatives
working behind the scenes, and definitely
not for the audience.
That exclamation, shouted to us through the mouthpiece
of a cartoon judge may be what makes "The Principal
and the Pauper" The Simpsons' worst episode.
So what do you think?
What other television shows betrayed your trust
or tested your suspension of disbelief?
Let us down in the comments below.
And as always, thank you for subscribing to Nerdstalgic.