Married . . . with Children [TV Series] (DVD)

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They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That certainly was the case with "Married . . . with Children," which survived sorry writing and a dopey attempt to introduce a cute kid in Season 7, rebounded with snappier patter in Season 8 and a return to the comic form in Season 9 that made the show a hit in the first place.

"Married . . . with Children" debuted on April 5, 1987, but for TV audiences it must have felt like an April Fool's joke. Fox, the brand-new network that would later give us such freaky fare as "When Good Animals Go Bad," had just launched their version of "When Good Family Sitcoms Go Bad." The Bundys were the anti-Cosbys, as dysfunctional a family as television had ever seen, and it's no coincidence that their name just happened to be the same as serial killer Ted Bundy. Adding insult to injury for some viewers was that the show aired on Sunday evenings, right after Bill Cosby and his model TV family. During the 1988-89 season, angry housewives actually launched a letter-writing campaign urging a boycott of the show, but the Bundys rolled on.

Though they never made it as many seasons as some of the top comedies, in sheer number of episodes aired "Married . . . with Children" ranks sixth on the list, ahead of "Happy Days," "The Andy Griffith Show," "All in the Family," and, yes, "The Cosby Show." The Cosbys managed 201 episodes, while the Bundys generated 262. But while "The Cosby Show" was often rated the #1 show in full-year Nielsen surveys, "Married . . . with Children" never made it into the top 25 shows going head-to-head against that wholesome program. It had a dedicated audience, but a relatively small one. And at the risk of offending that dedicated audience, let me speculate why. For one thing, it's played over-the-top, like bad dinner theater, exaggerated with raunchy flair. And just as the Bundys aren't exactly the brightest bulbs in the marquee, the show itself can be as dumb and uncomplicated as some of the worst "Three's Company" or "Gilligan's Island" episodes. Even co-star Christina Applegate said she thought the show was so "trashy" that her initial response was to turn down the part. Yet, there are laugh-out-loud lines in just about every episode, and Applegate admits that when she actually watches the show now, she cracks up.

The family patriarch, Al (Ed O'Neill), worked by day in women's shoes, but by night? He carved a bigger butt-niche in the furniture facing the television than Archie Bunker did years earlier. Al sees himself as a larger-than-life breadwinner whose family doesn't appreciate him. What's to appreciate? his wife would sneer. Peggy (Katey Sagal) sports tight pants, flashy jewelry, big hair, and a bigger attitude. She and daughter Kelly (Applegate) are the oversexed ones in the family, while Al and son Bud (David Faustino) are the big talkers. Applegate sports a shorter "do" this season, while Faustino still courts the goatee he sprouted the previous season. Amanda Bearse and Ted McGinley return as the Bundy's neighbors, Jefferson and Marcy D'Arcy.

Season 9 is an energetic one, which throws all sorts of sexual dilemmas into the comic mix--things like trips to strip clubs, cybersex dreams, public breastfeeding, virgin phone hotlines, and the National Nudie Bar World Series. This season, look for more guest stars, too, including Wolfman Jack, Joe Bob Briggs, Tawny Kitaen, Keri Russell, and Larry Storch. There are more laugh-out-loud situations and lines this season than in the previous few. When Kelly mutilates an old adage and says, "Well, that's the straw that stroked the camel's sack," a burst of laughter just happens to find its way out . . . especially watching the deadpan she's perfected throughout the show's long run, or brother Bud's quizzical reaction that his sister would actually say (or think) such a thing. Or when we see a sexy thing within drooling range of Bud and know full well what he's thinking, there's a similar release when he says, "So, now that you've showered and lotioned up and eaten a banana in front of me . . . ." He pauses--great comic timing--for audience laughter and viewer's minds to go where even Bud dare not go. There are a lot more lines that make you laugh this season, and that's a good thing. Plus, this is the season that Al and Jefferson rock the Nineties with a retro shoe sale, when a tiny pimple threatens to bring Kelly's acting career to a halt, Al is challenged to sleep with his best friend's wife, and Al's "No Ma'am" anti-feminist movement goes to Washington, D.C. It's a raunchy, outrageous, stupid, uneven comedy. But you find yourself laughing in spite of it all.

Here's the rundown on this season's 28 episodes, which are contained on three single-sided discs and housed in two slim clear-plastic keep cases and tucked inside a cardboard slipcase:

1. "Shoeway to Heaven." The season kicks off with a strong, fun episode that finds Al and Jefferson discovering a cache of vintage shoes and trying to cash in. Kelly, meanwhile, gets bitten by rare bugs whose bites act like a truth serum.