I didn't post a blog last week. To be honest I just haven't had it in me. I don't really know who all regularly visits my blog site, but suffice to say, I'm part of the forty-whatever percent who feels like our nation just got beaten up by a bully.
It's been a struggle going back to my regular life and forcing smiles where they're required. I've been doing everything possible to not think about the next four years, and the most tried and true form of escapism that seems to work on my depression is binge watching old cartoons. So in lieu of my own ability to feel a sense of humor, I'm going to borrow some from the masters. More specifically, I'm taking a look at the 50 greatest cartoons as selected by 1000 animation professionals (yeah, what could go wrong when groups of people vote on something?) and go through the top ten, to see what I think about the selections and if I can come up with a similar cartoon that I believe might be better overall.
10. King-Size Canary (1947, Tex Avery)
Ah, Tex Avery. His influence on cartoons can't be overstated. If I understand history correctly, he's ultimately the reason we have the Loony Tunes. In the black and white era, every studio was trying to be Walt Disney, and Avery was the pioneer who said "Screw that! We're doing our own thing" or something similar. Avery was a virtuoso gag man, and had a knack for timing that VERY few of his contemporaries could match, and damn near nobody today. He also had the highest batting average when it came to racially offensive jokes in the golden age of cartoons. Um, thanks for that?
King-Size Canary is about a starving alley cat who spies a domestic canary and decides to make an easy meal out of it. But unlike the more famous Sylvester/Tweety series, this cat receives relatively little resistance in achieving said goal. The plot happens when he realizes he can make the tiny bird grow via Jumbo-Gro plant formula. Of course then the cat has to make himself bigger to deal with the now overpowered bird. Bring in a mouse and a dog, and things quickly get out of control where there's nowhere on the earth to go.
Why is it on the list?
Probably because it was animators voting, and I imagine they liked the way the cartoon played with size and perspective. And while I admit, the variation on the cat-chases-canary formula (the latter of which really doesn't factor into much screen time despite the title) is refreshing, this is far from Tex Avery's best and/or most creative work. It's memorable but not really that special.
What would I choose instead?
Avery has several great ones, a few of which appear elsewhere on the 50 greatest list, but I'm partial to 1955's Sh-h-h-h-h-h. This was Avery's final cartoon for the Walter Lantz studio when Avery himself was dealing with the full force of his depression, and the cynical edge runs rampant. Mr. Twiddle is a jazz percussionist who begins to have nervous tremors when he's around loud sounds. His doctor informs him that he requires absolute quiet recovery or his nerves will cause him to explode. All seems well at the world's quietest resort until Mr. Twiddle finds himself in a room next to two obnoxious people who laugh non-stop while playing a trombone. Our sympathy lies with Mr. Twiddle even as his reasonable requests that the couple discontinue their activities escalates into homicide. And yes, he explodes at the end, making Mr. Twiddle a kind of first draft Frank Grimes.
9. Gerald McBoing-Boing (1951, Robert Cannon)
I hadn't heard of this one until I looked at the list, but it's based on a lesser known Dr. Seuss story. Gerald is a kid who only communicates through sound effects, like a Foley artist. Gerald's father is overbearing about the 'impediment'. His mother seems a bit more sympathetic, but she doesn't really stand up for him. Gerald nearly runs away, but gets discovered by a radio show producer who uses Gerald's talents to great success. Then how the reindeer loved him.
Why is it on the list?
Boy, you got me. It's not very good. For one thing, some people like the limited animation style that became popular for television. For another, some people connect with the short based on experiences with children who have disabilities; autism seems to be the one most frequently mentioned. Both are fair points but they create more problems. First, the concept of Gerald's Michael Winslow skillset is never close to being realized in the anything-an-happen world of cartoons. Second, the dad's an asshole. He only loves his boy once Gerald becomes successful. It makes the ending unintentionally bittersweet, and the production team really could have addressed that issue.
What would I have chosen instead?
Sticking with the theme of a short based on the works of Dr. Seuss, I'd go with 1973's version of Green Eggs and Ham, directed by Hawley Pratt and produced by the always great Friz Freleng. Imagine you've been handed the source material, basically the gospel of children's literature, and told to adapt it for television. How the hell do you bring anything new to the story without disrupting the purity of it? Well, this version did it. Everybody, from the animators to voice acting veteran Paul Winchell, is on martial arts leveled balance between sarcasm and innocence. The sheer number of songs crammed into six minutes simply has to be witnessed, and in the end you have a brilliant piece of absurdist comedy.
8. Porky in Wackyland (1938, Robert Clampett)
Bob Clampett was cut from the same magician's cloak as Tex Avery, although Avery was more of a sleight-of-hand illusionist while Clampett did more showy Vegas-styled tricks. Porky in Wackyland is essentially an excuse to show off weird creatures from the unleashed minds of cartoonists. Porky is on a quest to fly to darkest Africa to find the last remaining Dodo bird, if you care. You don't by the way. You're not invested in the plot, you're going for the ride through the bizarre.
Why is it on the list?
Eh, animators again. I mean, yeah it's creative. In the first few minutes there is a LOT to look at and take in. You get the sense that this is the world that Toon Town in Who Framed Roger Rabbit was going for and not quite getting there. And aficionados love the classics, so that's a factor. But for all of the passion behind the design of the world, the end product really doesn't amount to much. Kind of like a Tim Burton film.
What would I have chosen instead?
1948's The Cat That Hated People. Tex Avery took several elements from multiple Bob Clampett cartoons and assembled them into a beautifully surreal fable. The gags are divided into three sections. The first is a series of flashbacks, explaining why the Jimmy Durante sounding cat has developed such a dislike of people. The second is a quickie sequence involving a rocket trip to the moon. And lastly, life on the moon turns out to be the celestial version of Wackyland; equally uninhabitable for anyone of dignity. In the end the cat realizes he is much better off being stepped on by the people he formerly eschewed.
7. Red Hot Riding Hood (1943, Tex Avery)
I thought I had seen this cartoon before. It turns out I'd only seen the first act in specials, and then every rehash of the idea Avery did in subsequent years, including 1949's Little Rural Riding Hood which shows up at #23 on the 50 greatest list. Imagine my surprise to find out there's more to the cartoon than just the wolf catcalling Red. Go on. Take a few moments to imagine my surprise.
Wow. My surprise really isn't that interesting, is it? So you have a classic tale translated into a (then) modern setting where Granny owns a nightclub, Red is a showgirl, and the wolf is a well-dressed sexual predator. Wolfie's lust for Red lands him in a role reversal situation opposite an extremely excited and durable Granny. Being the prey instead of the predator drives the wolf to suicide, although in the afterlife he's learned nothing. Because he's a man.
Why is it on the list?
Well, it's funny for one thing. The story may not be particularly complicated, but it's surprisingly engaging. And there's admittedly the sex appeal, although it's not nearly as big a deal as the short's reputation would have you believe. But the thing I like most about it is the way the character of Red comes across. Usually in an over-the-top comedy like this, the female becomes nothing more than a pair of legs, and this winds up being the case in many of Avery's follow-up shorts. But here, Red is allowed to get her hands a little dirty. She seems quite capable of taking care of herself, and the "No!" she screams at the wolf's advances isn't that of a helpless damsel. It's a forceful "I'm spelling this out for you, dip shit!" refusal.
What would I have chosen instead?
You know, I'm actually quite fine with this one being here. It's not my favorite cartoon per se but I certainly see the appeal. And I can't really think of another cartoon that handled similar subject material better. So instead I just want to spotlight my favorite Tex Avery cartoon, one that didn't make the 50 greatest list: 1952's Rock-a-Bye Bear. You start with the one gag, someone has to stay quiet around a larger character, and as such they have to keep holding in their screams until they're able to run a healthy distance away. Then you take the first half of the cartoon to carefully set up the needed elements (an easygoing everyman protagonist and a competing rat-bastard karmic trickster). And then you top it off with a flawless voice performance from Daws Butler, a name not as instantly recognizable as Mel Blanc's but Butler was certainly in Blanc's league. The result is pure magic.
6. Gertie the Dinosaur (1914, Winsor McCay)
Winsor McCay was Walt Disney's Walt Disney. Disney may have been animation's number one architect, but McCay lay out the foundation. Nowhere is this more evident than in the painstakingly hand drawn frames of vaudeville's Gertie the Dinosaur. Gertie is sort of a golden retriever in the body of a brontosaurus, aiming to please but not entirely without her own mindset. She wasn't the first animated character but she was historically the first with a well-defined personality, and the public fell in love with her.
Why is it on the list?
Why wouldn't it be on the list? Sure there's not much in the way of plot; Gertie is really just a showcase of what animation can do. But something was clearly ignited when those big feet of hers first stepped onto the screen, and that flame has been burning ever since. The animators who voted for her knew that you have to honor the past. May Gertie live on forever.
What would I have chosen instead?
Get real. This film was a once in all of our lifetimes event. Considering Gertie is in the public domain now, you have to wonder why we haven't seen more of her from other artists. Maybe they just find her too much of a sacred territory to give it a shot? I don't know. What I do know is that in about four precious minutes of footage, a fictional dinosaur became immortal.
So yeah, nothing is ever going to touch this classic. But I can think of at least one that's a little bit spiritually closer to it than just about anything else: the music video to 1989's Runnin' Down a Dream by Tom Petty, with animation directed by Jim Lenahan. The video is based on several episodes of the comic strip Little Nemo in Slumberland, by Winsor McCay (with a blink and you miss it connection to Alice in Wonderland). I'm sure Petty's epic guitar riff wasn't the soundtrack in McCay's head when he drew the strip, but sometimes when you combine artists' work separated by almost eighty years you can create a brand new soul. The video perfectly encapsulates the feel of a dream's story; almost holding together without ever being predictable. And there's a sense of attachment, loss, and isolation weaving through the chaos. It's a beautiful unsung classic from the golden age of MTV.
I'm making a point to try to keep these blogs from getting out of hand in terms of length, so next week I'll tackle the Chuck Jones heavy top five shorts.
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