Krusty the Klown on &quot;The Simpsons.&quot;
Krusty the Klown on "The Simpsons." (Provided by Fox)

When you think "The Simpsons," you don't automatically think Jews.

The long-running animated hit is an equal-opportunity offender: Hindus, Buddhists, Christians and Jews all come in for parody. Religion in general is a punching bag.

But Krusty the Klown, that terrifically obnoxious, self-centered, some might say greedy character whose children's TV show and summer camp are essentially merchandising opportunities, is a particularly obvious representative of a certain stereotype. He may be the most flamboyantly Jewish Jew on television.

Not to mention his father, Rabbi Hyman Krustofsky.

Mike Reiss, longtime writer-producer on "The Simpsons," has plenty of Krusty stories to tell, along with tales of the series' Jewish writers and actors. He shares them, plus rare "Simpsons" footage, in a lecture that has been a popular hit internationally. He'll discuss "Jews and Toons" at the 17th Denver Jewish Film Festival at 8 p.m. Feb. 14 at the Mizel Arts and Culture Center at the Jewish Community Center.

Krusty is not anyone's idea of a positive role model. Still, "Jewish kids are grateful he's up there," Reiss said by phone from his home in New York. The emphasis on the endless sales pitches for Krusty merchandise, he said, "is our mea culpa for the shameless merchandising of 'The Simpsons.' "


What some may not know about Krusty is that it's the rare non-Jew in the cast (Dan Castellaneta) who does his voice.

"It's been fun coaching Dan through the occasional Hebrew," Reiss said.

On the other hand, the super-Christian neighbor Ned Flanders on "The Simpsons" is voiced by a Jew (Harry Shearer).

Reiss, a four-time Emmy winner for "The Simpsons" who lives in New York but spends one day a week in Los Angeles working on the show, has delivered his lecture in Mumbai, Singapore and Macao to universal giggles.

"I gave it in Chile, and they treated me like a visiting dignitary," he said. Fans are "more adoring in South America and Australia," he finds, "even though 60 percent of the jokes don't translate."

Reiss grew up in Bristol, Conn., in what felt like the only Jewish family in town. His first book, "How Murray Saved Christmas," has recently been picked up by NBC to be an animated special for 2014. The story follows deli owner Murray Kleiner, who steps in to fulfill Santa's duties in an emergency.

"This has been a life-long dream of mine," Reiss said. Part of his lecture is a nod to all the Christmas music (from Johnny Marks' "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" to Irving Berlin's "White Christmas") created by Jews:

"I loved Christmas as a kid. I got all the good stuff and didn't have to go to church."

Other Reiss credits include "The Critic," a smart 1994 animated show rather accurately sending up the lives of TV and film critics, and "Queer Duck," an Internet sensation that was picked up by Showtime in 2002. That very adult comedy was written "out of conscience," Reiss said, because he didn't like the portrayals of gays in comedy at the time. He had to keep his own heterosexuality in the closet when promoting the show.

The bits of "The Simpsons" that remain edgy are still less mean-spirited than the humor on rival shows. "We don't know what our own boundary is until we sit home and watch 'Family Guy' and say 'we would never do that!' "

One thing they would never do is sabotage the family relationship. Specifically, "we would never have Homer hit Marge," he said, noting that Seth MacFarlane's "Family Guy" observes no such line.

"We get no complaints, we don't get sued. Anyone who would be offended stopped watching in 1989" (when the show debuted).

How long can "The Simpsons" run? Reiss hopes that, like the James Bond franchise, the show will see its popularity soar at age 50. The writing staff is old by Hollywood standards, 48-50 in a business of 28-year-olds. But nobody wants to leave.

"What drives the show now is fear," Reiss said. "Nobody wants to be the guy who ruins (the show)."

The writers recently took voluntary pay cuts to make the most expensive half-hour in TV financially possible. Now that the economic model is entrenched, it really does look like it could run forever. And since the foundation is not topical but observational humor, there's no expiration date.

Of course, Reiss knows there will always be harsh critics.

"At season 150, they'll say it hasn't been funny since season 130."

Joanne Ostrow: 303-954-1830, or
