Post by Deleted on Jan 24, 2015 21:19:05 GMT -5
It's all so complicated with the flowers and the romance and the lies upon lies!
“Why Must I Be a Crustacean in Love” is the first episode of Futurama to build its plot around a regular supporting player. We’ve had Zapp Brannigan show up as a ringer once so far in the first season, and again in the second, but this is our first time out with a character who’s just been a regular background presence, good for the occasional one-liner or sight gag. So this is actually a very important episode in the history of the show - it’s not just the first time Zoidberg gets to “come out of his shell”, it’s also the first time the show gets to break open its universe a little bit and start to explore whether it’s got a supporting cast worthy of the lead trio.
It’s strange in retrospect to think of this episode, infrequently quoted, and solidly in the middle of the pack quality wise, as an “important” episode. But there are a lot of ways it could have gone wrong, especially since it also incorporates one of the more problematic story approaches in the first season: the “mission to a strange new world” setup. If Zoidberg’s planet and people are boring, the episode is hurt. If Zoidberg himself turns out to be dull, or establishes traits that paint the creators into a corner, it stands to hurt the entire series.
But Futurama has a forerunner in The Simpsons that set a great template for finding unexpected depth and stories in supporting characters, and finding superb one-off settings and characters away from the main sets -- the latter being something Futurama struggled with in “Fear of a Bot Planet” and “My Three Suns”. Already this season, in “Brannigan, Begin Again”, we’ve seen the show gain a tremendous amount of confidence in using new sets and new alien characters just long enough to get a laugh, without letting them overstay their welcome. That episode also did a fantastic job of developing Kif from a grudging underling to a sycophant with a twisted love/hate relationship to his commander. “Why Must I Be a Crustacean in Love?” shows much of the same shrewdness in terms of both adding depth to characters, and not falling so much in love with bit parts or clever set designs that they can’t be parted with when they’ve served their purpose.
Most importantly, though there’s no shortage of shellfish-based gags in the episode, the show avoids getting hung up on the Decapodians’ um, Decapod-ishness, as a source of humor. The show seems to have learned clearly that the funniest robots on Chapek-5 (“Fear of a Bot Planet”) were the Robot Elders, whose robot-ness was really a secondary characteristic. The giant blue condoms of Trisol (“My Three Suns”) unfortunately never got such moments. Much as we’ve learned that the Rube Goldberg technologies invented for the series are less funny in and of themselves than for their context, “Why Must I be a Crustacean in Love?” concentrates on character and plot, leaving the “alien-ness” of the setting to background jokes like a restaurant chain named “Red Primate”, and the disgustingly erotic implications of Fry getting caviar all over his face.
The show’s all the stronger for it, especially as it’s Zoidberg’s first real chance to shine. In retrospect, it’s amazing to realize that one of Zoidberg’s most noticeable traits over the course of the series - his desperate poverty - isn’t even present here. Yet there’s never any question that Zoidberg is a lovable, disgusting loser. His ineptitude at love may be understandable due to his species not having such a concept, but his ridiculous “date” attire, and his pathetic weeping over the weakness of his stink gland would tell us what a nerdlinger he is even if all the females on the beach didn’t tell us already.
The plot is a direct tribute to the classic Star Trek. episode “Amok Time”, in which Spock must return to his home planet to mate, and, through a series of contrivances, winds up locked in ritualistic mortal combat with Kirk. While Futurama goes the Cyrano de Bergerac route in bringing the two to blows, the broad outline is the same. The episode also pays homage to the Trek classic with several vocal and visual imitations, and a hilarious deployment of the fight music from “Amok Time” as the “national anthem” of Decapod-10. Futurama has always displayed this sort of brilliance in deployment of parody: you don’t need to know where it’s from - or, indeed, have even heard it before - to find it hilarious. Too often, shows will attempt to beat people over the head with a reference just in case you don’t get it, or worse, try to hang a lampshade on it so that you can go look it up on wikipedia and then “get” the joke. Because of course, that makes everything funnier.
One thing I really enjoyed about this episode, on re-watch, is how much it indulges in Futurama’s darker side. In the first act, when his surge of male jelly drives him nuts, Zoidberg runs amok through the gym, eventually surprising an aquatic “pregnercize” class. Off-screen we hear a now-premature baby “plop” into the water and cry… Which would be funny enough, but for the instructor (Randy!) asking if there’s a doctor in the gym. When Zoidberg, slobbering, claw-clacking, and wild-eyed scuttles back over to shout, “I’m a doctor,” the shrieks and accompanying rapid-fire sound of babies being popped out in stress-induced labor, I can never help from spitting out a guilty laugh. It’s a sick (and perhaps for some, shocking) joke, but it’s so beautifully constructed and delivered, while being so dark, I’m sure any fan of Futurama would love it.
Bender’s obsession with possibly “having to” cook Zoidberg and his interest in Fry taking a “dive” in a death match, or Zoidberg devouring his childhood bully are similarly dark without being mean, but nothing quite tops two jokes at the conclusion of the episode. After nearly killing Zoidberg, Fry steps back, puts away his weapon (a shell-cracker, natch), and delivers a stirring speech about being unwilling to kill a friend, for any reason or reward. Just at the climax, when we’d normally expect everyone to realize the folly of killing, Zoidberg sneaks up and lops Fry’s arm off with his claw, prompting Fry to grab his lost arm and begin bludgeoning Zoidberg to death with it. As Seinfeld would put it, “No hugging, no learning.” On a similar note, thinking over the dillema of Zoidberg’s species, Fry muses, “You mean you have to choose between a life without sex and a gruesome death? Tough call.” Let no one say that when given the opportunity for a joke that takes a dim, dark view of humanity for laughs, Futurama doesn’t pull it out.*
I suppose I’d say the same thing if I had to choose between death, or having a show that effortlessly turned out episodes like this as just a routine and average part of its ovuere. Well, maybe not.
Grade: B
This Week’s Opening Title Subtitle:
From the Network that brought you The Simpsons!
(I can’t help but wonder if they were already starting to feel the network’s shoddy regard for this, The Simpsons’s clear heir)
This Week In Futurama Signage:
NEW! WINDOWLESS ROOM FOR UGLY EXERCISERS
also:
(KEGELCIZER)
Stray Observations:
- “Those poor 20th Century women…” - Leela and Amy observe what penises were like before genetic engineering.
- “Fool me seven times, shame on you. Fool me eight or more times, shame on me.” - Oh, Amy, you moron!
- “Love? That word is unknown here. I'm simply looking for a female swollen with eggs to accept my genetic material.”
- I’m not a fan of how this episode treats women. Be it Amy and Leela’s superficiality at the gym, or Leela’s stereotypical “girl talk” to Edna in the bathroom, it seems like it plays on a lot of stereotypes. Edna, in particular, is a stand-in for nearly ever cliche. Now, I’m not saying there aren’t plenty of superficial women who are air-headed romantics or obsessed with marrying a rich doctor, but c’mon Futurama, you can do better.
- The animation on the crab car’s legs is fantastic.
- Another illustration of how this episode wisely plays the Alien-ness of the aliens as secondary: when a greeter spits out a garbled, trilling noise at Dr. Zoidberg, Fry asks if that’s how the name is said, presuming that’s the native tongue. The greeter runs off weeping, as Zoidberg explains he clearly suffered from a speech impediment.
- The non-sequiteur of “So I returned his artificial heart and ever since then I've been known by the name of Honest Bender” stands for me as this show’s equivalent of The Simpsons’s “So anyhow, I says to Mabel, I says…” (and by the way, this is a reference to the W.C. Fields "Honest John" routine)
*Fans of Season 4 episode “Spanish Fry” say it with me now: “WOOOOOOO!” or “Just like in the movie theater!”