Let’s talk about Warren Martyn and Adrian Wood, the minds behind I Can’t Believe It’s An Unofficial Simpsons Guide. Back in 1997, they released this book, cleverly titled to playfully compete with the first official Simpsons episode guide, The Simpsons: A Complete Guide To Our Favorite Family. Martyn and Wood’s guide actually hit shelves a few months earlier, published by Virgin Publishing and primarily aimed at a British audience. This is evident in the “Notes for Brits” sections, which explained American cultural references and public figures for UK readers to grasp the humor.
Image: Sideshow Bob plotting in “Black Widower” episode, a key episode analyzed in unofficial Simpsons guide, highlighting the guide’s focus on detailed episode analysis.
As episode guides go, the original I Can’t Believe It’s An Unofficial Simpsons Guide was a relatively straightforward affair. It systematically broke down each episode with readable notes, but it lacked the visual appeal of the official Simpsons guide. Once A Complete Guide arrived, Martyn and Wood’s book became more of a supplementary resource. A Complete Guide was comprehensive for the first eight seasons, while I Can’t Believe only covered up to about two-thirds of Season 8, ending abruptly with “My Sister, My Sitter.” This suggests a rushed deadline, possibly to preempt the official guide’s release.
However, I Can’t Believe had the potential to offer something unique: the personal insights of fans. The Simpsons: A Complete Guide, being an official publication, remained uncritical and promotional. It lacked the individual voices and perspectives that Martyn and Wood could have provided. Initially, they seemed to miss this opportunity. Each episode entry concluded with brief, generic “Notes” sections, often just a sentence or two of general opinion. It appeared the aim was conciseness and accessibility, positioning I Can’t Believe as a handy reference rather than an in-depth analysis.
Yet, the book did occasionally reveal glimpses of the authors’ personalities. Little hints, like mentions of Dexy’s Midnight Runners or a fondness for Moe, added charm. These personal touches made the guide more engaging than a purely factual reference.
The Bigger and Better Updated Version
In 2000, Martyn and Wood returned with a revised edition: I Can’t Believe It’s A Bigger And Better Updated Unofficial Guide. This update completed Season 8 and covered Seasons 9 and 10. In this version, they leaned more into fan analysis. The “Notes” sections became more substantial, and they weren’t shy about pointing out episode aspects they found lacking. Seasons 9 and 10, after all, marked a transitional period for The Simpsons, with some feeling the show was losing its edge. Interestingly, Martyn and Wood never released a third edition covering Season 11 onwards, perhaps indicating their own viewership waned during this era.
Adding to the initial confusion, some first editions of I Can’t Believe were credited to Gareth Roberts and Gary Russell. The revised edition, however, attributes the original 1997 text to Martyn and Wood, with no mention of Roberts and Russell. The reason for this discrepancy remains unclear – perhaps pen names were involved? Any misattribution in this analysis is unintentional and sincerely regretted.
Personal Connection and Evolving Perspective
As a dedicated Simpsons enthusiast, this unofficial guide was significant during my early days of online exploration in 1997. Before widespread internet access was common, I Can’t Believe served as a valuable resource for tracking episode order and understanding the show more systematically. It helped me identify cultural references and subtexts, sparking my interest in exploring referenced books and movies. It truly was a helpful companion for a young Simpsons fan.
However, my needs and understanding have evolved. Now, I find myself more critical of inaccuracies in I Can’t Believe. Take their description of Sideshow Bob, my favorite character: “Krusty’s silent stooge for many years. He revealed himself to be a well-read, plummy-voiced Englishman with a mad desire to seize power, raise cultural standards, and to kill Bart.” While concise and largely accurate, the crucial error is stating Bob is English. In “Brother From Another Series,” Bob explicitly identifies as American. This mistake, particularly in a British publication, is surprising. Bob’s Mid-Atlantic accent, often mistaken for British due to its refined, pompous tone, might be the source of confusion. Scar from The Lion King has a British accent, while Jafar from Aladdin and Sideshow Bob share a Mid-Atlantic accent – a sophisticated American accent, influenced by British Received Pronunciation, associated with the US cultural elite. Despite the guide’s error, Wikipedia still, unfortunately, cites Martyn and Wood’s incorrect description of Bob as English. (And for further clarity, Sideshow Mel is also not English; his voice is Dan Castellaneta’s Kelsey Grammer impersonation.)
Deconstructing “Black Widower” Through the Unofficial Guide Lens
My focus here is on Martyn and Wood’s observation about the Season 3 episode “Black Widower.” “Black Widower” is an episode I have a complex relationship with. While I cherish all the original Sideshow Bob episodes (and many later ones), “Black Widower” feels different. If the Bob episodes are like children, “Brother From Another Series” and “Sideshow Bob’s Last Gleaming” are the successful college-bound ones, while “Black Widower” is the slightly problematic one in the basement – loved, but with reservations.
My main issues stem from Bob’s unclear motivation in “Black Widower.” Why does he want to murder Selma? The supposed motive – Selma’s mace company fortune – feels out of character. Bob’s vices are pride, wrath, and envy, not avarice, which is more Mr. Burns’ domain. Bob kills for power and revenge, not money. Perhaps, being only Bob’s second episode, his character wasn’t fully defined. Framing Krusty for robbery is one thing; trying to kill a lonely heart like Selma feels disproportionately extreme. Furthermore, Selma is the least deserving of Bob’s targets. Krusty and Bart had direct conflict with Bob; Selma has none. Bob’s desire to kill Selma seems detached from the fiery motivations driving his vendettas against Bart or his power grabs in Springfield. Selma’s affection for Bob seems more out of fear of loneliness than genuine love, her true love being MacGyver. There’s something unsettling about Bob manipulating and exploiting Selma’s vulnerability only to then attempt to murder her. Usually, I’m rooting for Bob, recognizing his intelligence and charm despite his villainy. Even in his schemes, there’s often a twisted commentary on Springfield’s low cultural standards. “Black Widower” is a rare instance where I question Bob’s actions, exclaiming, “What the hell, Bob?!”
Some suggest Bob’s motive is his disdain for MacGyver and Selma’s willingness to leave him for a TV show. While slightly more Bob-like than greed, it implies he was genuinely invested in the relationship up to that point, which seems unlikely. The episode’s vagueness allows for interpreting his plot as indirect revenge on Bart. Bob clearly knows Selma is Bart’s aunt – he shows no surprise meeting Bart at dinner. He mentions revenge fantasies against Bart sustained him in prison, though he stops short of wishing Bart dead, citing Buddhist principles. This hints at Bart being the real target, with Selma as a proxy for inflicting suffering, perhaps in a more psychological way than direct violence. The argument that Bart wouldn’t miss Selma is weak; they are family. Bart would undoubtedly care if his aunt was murdered, especially by someone he despises who stands to gain financially. However, the episode focuses less on Bob’s “why” and more on the “how” of his plot and Bart’s efforts to uncover it. For “Black Widower,” Bob’s motivation is simply his inherent evil or sociopathy. It’s a less nuanced portrayal, but that might be the point.
(Fun fact: “Black Widower” aired in April 1992, and MacGyver ended the following month. A small consolation for the imprisoned Bob, perhaps.)
“Black Widow” Movie Inspiration?
Martyn and Wood propose in I Can’t Believe that “Black Widower” is partly based on the 1987 thriller Black Widow, specifically “nobody believing Bart’s pleas that Sideshow Bob is dangerous.” This is plausible, given Bob’s episodes often reference cinema or television, often hinted at in the titles – “Cape Feare” referencing Cape Fear, “Sideshow Bob Roberts” alluding to Bob Roberts, and “Sideshow Bob’s Last Gleaming” borrowing from Twilight’s Last Gleaming. “Brother From Another Series” is an in-joke about Kelsey Grammer’s other show, Frasier.
However, the title “Black Widower” could also simply refer to the black widow spider, known for sexual cannibalism (though the accuracy of this reputation is debatable). I question Martyn and Wood’s claim about Bart being disbelieved as a Black Widow reference. It seems more likely “Black Widower” inverts “Krusty Gets Busted,” where Bart alone believed in Krusty’s innocence. Marge’s line at the end reinforces this parallel.
Image: Movie poster of “Black Widow” (1987), a film discussed as potential inspiration for the “Black Widower” episode, prompting analysis of its actual influence.
Black Widow (1987) seems to have faded from public memory. Prior to Martyn and Wood’s guide, I’d never encountered any reference to it. My recent viewing reflects “Black Widower’s” lower ranking among my favorite Bob episodes – I sought out Bob Roberts, Twilight’s Last Gleaming, and both Cape Fear films long ago, but Black Widow was a later curiosity. Do Martyn and Wood have insightful 80s thriller knowledge, or are they mistaken about this connection, just as they were about Bob’s nationality? Let’s investigate.
Black Widow, directed by Bob Rafelson, stars Debra Winger as Alexandra Barnes, an agent tracking Catharine Petersen (Theresa Russell), a professional gold digger. Petersen marries wealthy men, kills them, and disappears with their fortunes – reminiscent of Morticia Addams in Addams Family Values. Barnes, initially alone in her suspicions, convinces her boss, Bruce (Terry O’Quinn), to let her go undercover. Barnes tracks Petersen to Hawaii, where she’s targeting hotel mogul Paul Nuytten (Sami Frey). An “unexpected” friendship, heavily laced with erotic tension, develops between the two women. The film implicitly asks, “She mates and she kills. But does she love?” without fully exploring the question.
“Black Widow” vs. “Black Widower”: Misinterpretation or Coincidence?
In short, I believe the Black Widow movie had minimal, if any, influence on “Black Widower.” Martyn and Wood’s supposed homages are likely coincidences. The only shared elements are homicidal spouses and murders within marriage. Oh, and some hotel scenes. That’s it. One could tenuously connect Catherine’s tailored murder methods to Bob’s scheming, but such plots are common in crime fiction, like Agatha Christie novels. As for “nobody believing Bart,” this links more to “Krusty Gets Busted” than Black Widow. “Krusty Gets Busted” is clearly the template for “Black Widower.” Both episodes share a structure: Bob/Krusty’s villainy is revealed two-thirds in via manic laughter, leaving Bart (and the viewer) to connect the dots.
Black Widow (the movie) is peculiar and frustrating. It hints at a significant outcome – the mutual attraction between Barnes and Petersen – but then abandons it for a conventional path. Roger Ebert’s review echoed my sentiments. Early scenes suggest Barnes’s potential sexual awakening through Petersen, yet this is deflected by an unconvincing romance with Nuytten. Nuytten is bland, making it hard to care about his fate. William McCroy, the penicillin-allergic husband, is more engaging. The film’s intrigue lies in the Barnes-Petersen dynamic, exploring the Black Widow’s dark allure and her ruthless world. The film hints at Barnes’s fascination with Petersen’s lifestyle, the cracks in her facade, and Petersen’s bemusement at Barnes’s fervent pursuit. These women see through each other. Petersen quickly recognizes Barnes’s true identity and purpose (even nearly killing her in a scuba diving “accident,” then saving her). There’s a sense of connection between isolated individuals, each adept at manipulation and emotionally detached due to their professions. Petersen vaguely suggests attachment to her victims, overridden by “professional dedication.” The dangerous tension is symbolized by a sea urchin they pass between them underwater. The ending, while weak, offers a curious final image: Barnes, having exposed Petersen, evades the press and disappears alone, echoing Petersen’s solitary existence. Her bond with Petersen and the fate of her romance with Nuytten remain unresolved, and uninteresting. Professional dedication trumps temptation, a missed opportunity for deeper exploration of their parallels and a potentially compelling ending where Petersen corrupts Barnes. Black Widow isn’t a mystery; Petersen’s villainy is clear from the start. The tension arises from watching her prey on victims while Barnes closes in. The same is arguably true for “Black Widower” – Bob’s intentions are evident early on. But unlike Black Widow, I didn’t experience “Black Widower” “fresh.” Having seen later Bob episodes, I knew the outcome. Did viewers in 1992 perceive it differently, assuming they missed the title’s hint? Personally, Bob’s insincerity is evident from his “divine ashtray” comment about kissing Selma, the sweetness masking his revulsion. This undermines the MacGyver-only motive theory. What’s unclear is when Bob planned to kill Selma. Was it from the start, or did his feelings change as he knew her better (perhaps upon learning her Bart connection)? The episode offers no clear answers, which is frustrating.
Image: Sideshow Bob’s “IH8 BART” license plate, a visual cue emphasizing his enduring grudge against Bart, relevant to the discussion of Bob’s motivations in “Black Widower.”
We see Bob through Bart’s wary eyes, mirroring our siding with Bart’s faith in Krusty in “Krusty Gets Busted.” Bart initially lacks concrete evidence, his suspicion stemming from Bob’s past crimes against Krusty and his intuition about Bob’s lingering animosity. Bob only briefly drops his facade towards Bart with the “choked you like a chicken” remark, hinting at genuine anger. Otherwise, Bob largely ignores Bart. Unlike Black Widow’s mutual fixation, the animosity is one-sided. Bart observes Bob intensely, but Bob doesn’t seem to reciprocate or relish Bart’s discomfort. The episode hints at a Bart connection when Bob mentions murder while driving Selma away, cutting to the “IH8 BART” license plate – a clue about Bart’s central role in Bob’s motivations, or just Bob’s general malice? It’s open to interpretation.
Concluding Thoughts: “Black Widower” and Solitude
Moral of the story: watch Black Widow. It’s an intriguing neo-noir from the 80s, though the ending is unsatisfying. Another moral: I adore “Black Widower,” analyzing it intensely despite its frustrating outcome. Perhaps my issue isn’t Bob’s ambiguous motives, but the episode’s overwhelming melancholy. Like Black Widow, it explores solitude, evident in Bob and Selma’s relationship born from mutual desperation. Their sad origins make it poignant that they end up back where they began. “Black Widower” is cynical about personal growth, especially for those in the criminal justice system. Selma’s survival, due to Bart’s unwavering distrust of Bob, feels darkly sardonic. Lisa’s early line about Bob being “living proof that our revolving-door prison system works” is revealing. Bob exits prison with “ten dollars and an axe to grind,” and returns with hysteria and a Democrat-related taunt. Despite her charms, Selma was unlikely to change Bob.
