Bart Simpson: The shorts that ate the world

He burps, he farts, he's devious, irreverent and hates school. And he's a girl. Ten years after The Simpsons first screened in New Zealand, the woman behind the world's most infamous brat talks to TIM WATKIN about life as Bart Simpson.

A voice explodes on the end of the phone, high-pitched and eager, sounding more than a little like Mickey Mouse.

"Hello. This is Nancy."

The Nancy is said long, like a boxing announcer introducing a contender. Reeling, I can only reply, "how are you?"

"I'm fine thanks," she says in a voice so pert, I swear, this must be Mickey Mouse.

In fact, Nancy Cartwright is the voice of the 20th century's other great cartoon creation, the one Walt Disney didn't have the moral courage to create. And to be fair, Disney was inventing characters for a gentler era.

The prince of pranks that Cartwright speaks for is an embodiment of the late 20th century. As his sitcom sister has said, "That little hell-raiser is the spawn of every shrieking commercial, every brain-rotting soda pop, every teacher who cares less about young minds than about cashing their big fat pay cheques. No, Bart is not to blame. You can't create a monster and then whine when he stomps on a few buildings."

Yes, we're talking about Bart Simpson, the paperbag-faced scamp and television icon who was named one of the top 20 artists and entertainers of the 20th century by Time magazine (in an issue which named the series as "greatest TV show of the century"). Oh, he's also a drawing.

This week marks 10 years since The Simpsons was first run on New Zealand television, an anniversary so unlikely you would think it could only happen in a cartoon.

Another detonation. "It is the coolest," Cartwright enthuses. "It's unfathomable that we're still doing it. The public still loves it. They can't get enough of it."

The States celebrated its 10th anniversary last year. "True to the American way, we celebrated it the whole year. January 14 was our 10th anniversary because January 14 1990 was the first date of the half-hour episode. But to me, if you go back to December 17 1989, they ran the Christmas special and for two seasons prior to that it ran on The Tracey Ullman Show. So you could go back to, like, 1987. Ten years sounds like a good round number to celebrate, but we're really going into year number 14."

Which is remarkable when you think even Jerry Seinfeld decided he couldn't maintain comic consistency beyond nine series.

"But with animation you can go so many more places than a theatred sitcom. Also, there's no ageing," she says.

Is she getting bored at all?

"Heavens to Murgatroyd no!" My hands go over my ears and my head between my legs. "I don't get bored — what? — in the slightest! It's a great gig, man." (Now she's sounding like Bart). "To burp and fart and get paid for it, how cool is that?"

The 40-year-old mother-of-two is living much of her professional life as a 10-year old boy hence the name of her new book, being released in New Zealand this month, My Life as a 10-year-old Boy. Designed to answer the endless repetitive questions Cartwright gets asked, it's a hardback fanzine.

Cartwright (rumoured to be paid $NZ109,000 an episode) got into voice-work young. She excelled in speech class, especially the humorous interpretation
category, and picked up lots of trophies as a teenager.

When she got her critiques back from the judges there was one consistent note: "You should do cartoon voices."

"It's not like I can honestly say, 'Oh yeah, when I was 16 years old I knew that I was going to be one of the top 20 entertainers of the 20th century, an international icon and doing an interview in New Zealand.' That's like
woo ooo!"

Not lacking initiative or courage, she got part-time work on a local radio station and hassled a Warner Bros music rep for contacts in its animation department. She received a list of several addresses and the phone number for Daws Butler, better known as the voice of Yogi Bear, Huckleberry Hound and others.

She rang him, they clicked, she moved to California to study at UCLA and became his protege.

Before long, and long before The Simpsons, Cartwright was a successful voice around town. Starting with Gloria in Richie Rich, she worked on such cartoons as Animaniacs, Pinky and the Brain, The Snorks and Rugrats. She even had an on-camera guest spot on Cheers.

On Tuesday March 13, 1987 she drove to an audition for what she calls "a funky little deal on The Tracey Ullman Show." They were "bumpers" — 30-60 second cartoons that would run either side of commercial breaks.

She was to read for an 8-year-old girl called Lisa Simpson. Shuffling through the scripts she saw the sparse character description — "middle child" — and didn't think much of it. Beside it was the script for a 10-year-old boy. "Personality: Devious, underachieving, school-hating, irreverent, clever."

That was the character she wanted. A single reading for creator Matt Groening, and it was hers.

"That's it! That's Bart," Groening is quoted as saying in the book.

In the years since, Bart, his antics and his sayings like "eat my shorts," "ay caramba," and "cowabunga" have swept the world.

"We admire him because he had the courage to go ahead and do those things that we wouldn't dare try to do," she says. "Sometimes he gets away with it, most of the time he doesn't, but you have to admire his willingness to do it anyway."

But there are heaps of rebellious characters out there. Bart must have something more.

"Well, because it's half an hour, you can round that character out and fill him in with, how do I say, colours to his personality. Deep down inside, you know that Bart is actually a good kid."

For all the dysfunction on display in Bart and his family, their basic — there's no other word for it — humanity should not be under-estimated. In 1992, George Bush famously said he wanted American families to be less like The Simpsons and more like The Waltons. He lost the presidency and the public sent another family to the White House that redefined the meaning of dysfunctional family.

Cartwright, a mother-of-two who doesn't allow her children to watch TV during the week, says the moralising brigade, who even now attack the show, should stop complaining and watch it.

"I agree with them. Bart is not a great role model. But to single that out and say that the show is bad, that's narrow-minded. If they watched it they'd recognise that the show is full of all kinds of
lessons."

The relationship between voice and drawing can't be a simple one. She is Bart's emotions without being his words, his expression without being his body. Is there a strong connection?

"No, I'm not him. I do his voice. I'm a mom. I've got kids ... Bart happens to be the image, but I'm not the star. Bart's the star."

Hang on. Earlier in the interview she'd said "I was ... one of the top 20 entertainers of the 20th century". So where does Nancy end and Bart begin. Down the phone, Cartwright is flustered. "Did I say I? Do you have it recorded?" Maybe I'm trying to trick her into saying something for broadcast down here, she frets. (A concern verging on paranoia that everyone is trying to get her to break copyright by saying something in Bart's voice emerges in her book).

I'm just interested in her relationship with the character.

"Well, this is true. I think we all have a little bit of Bart in us. But I don't think that I personalise Bart. When people criticise the show, I don't take it personally. If I did that I'd be sunk for sure."

She can't say which are her favourite episodes, there are too many. Can't say which were the worst celebrities to work with, but the best ones (including Tom Jones, Meryl Streep and Mel Gibson) are in her book.

No, Bart will never age. As long as Groening thinks the writers are maintaining the standard, she thinks the show will run for two or three more seasons at least.

Our time is up. She bounces off to launch her voice into another interview.