Category: Cartoons from the 50’s

The 1950’s contain some of the most revered shorts Warner Bros. ever produced! Many of which now are considered some of animation’s greatest triumphs.

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Two Scents Worth

“Poems are made by fools like me.”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Charles M. Jones; Animation by Keith Darling, Abe Levitow, Richard Thompson, and Ken Harris; Layouts by Robert Gribbroek; Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Music by Milt Franklyn. A Merrie Melody released on October 15, 1955.

L’histoire d’aujourd’hui se déroule à Les Aples Francais, and et maintenant, j’en ai fini de faire semblant de parler français.

In the town of Nasty Pass, a man goes to the fishmonger to purchase one herring. Yes, one. While we can’t hear from this side of the glass, the monger seems just as befuddled to hear such and order. But a sale is a sale, and he forks over the fish. (I can read the ‘Sardines’ written on the barrel, but I prefer to use a more proper vernacular.) This isn’t just a lunch on an extreme diet, it’s an investment.

This guy, (who kind of looks like Ralph Phillips’s homeless uncle, Troy) uses the fish as bait for Penelope Fifi Pussycat. And it is successful. She’s a rather easy-going girl who has no problem with the guy painting a white stripe down her back. Nor with him dropping her through the skylight of a bank. The populace does. That’s a pseudo skunk if they ever saw one! Some would say it’s worse than the real kind, because you can’t deodorize them. They flee, and that guy robs them blind.

He gets his comeuppance, fierce, though. Leaving the town, he tells what he thinks is his ally that he no longer needs her service. Then the scent enters his nostrils, and his brain registers what this means. That’s a real skunk if he ever smelt one! It’s like a burning cleanse of holy water, and he retreats to jail, locking himself up, completely reformed. Now maybe Mr. Phillips will invite him to Thanksgiving dinner again.

That skunk sees that pseudo skunk and is smitten. He might be coming off a little too extreme this time. Climbing into her arms and saying that if she stops resisting, he will do the same, and that’s the best deal she’s going to get. And I still can’t help but love him myself. And all skunks for that matter. They’re cute and can defend themselves wonderfully! It’s no different than a woman with mace.

Speaking of, I bet the pseudo really wishes she had some of that stuff. She’s taken refuge in a gondola, but the genuine hopped aboard last second, and is still advancing. She escapes by walking across the cable they are hanging from. For once in history, it paid to be a cat. She runs as far up as she possibly can, which is the tip of the nearest ski jump. And he still manages to catch up and catch her. Kissing must be really nice!

Squirming out of his grasp, she lands on one of the skis left up here, and goes on a wild downhill ride. Pretty much the rest of the short here. Her hunter, more safety concerned, comes after her on tow skis, just as humanity intended. George of the jungle he is not, but he still should watch out for that tree. Eh, we didn’t see it either, so cut some slack. That was a well delivered crunchline.

The skis land, for the rest of this wild ride. The genuine gets back on his skis, while the pseudo still wonders how she ever got in this situation. And as if things aren’t worse enough for her, she’s coming up to a cliff. Trying to remember what the ski instructor said is impossible when all she can think of is that stupid, sexy skunk. She decides to just do her best at stopping the ride. And it works! Right at the edge and everything. Safe at last.

And then he plucks her up as he goes over the edge. If there’s one thing more frightening than his advances, it’s the height they’re at. She clings to him in fear. Always prepared, his parachute lowers them to safety. I bet by the time they land, she’ll find she still has fallen. For him. *Rimshot*

Favorite Part: When he admits he’s not just attracted to her body, but her mind. True, he just met her. True, she hasn’t said any actual language. True, it’s a joke. But it still help him curry my favor. I wonder how Chuck would react to see how hated this character became.

Personal Rating: 3. That tree slam alone was worth a point.

 

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Double or Mutton

“Goodnight, Ralph.”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Michael Maltese; Animation by Richard Thompson, Abe Levitow, Keith Darling and Ken Harris; Layouts and Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Milt Franklyn. A Looney Tune released on July 13, 1955.

Well, time to get to work. Sheep aren’t going to watch themselves. You better be ready to pay handsomely to get someone excited about being a sheep watcher. Only people like me would do something like that for free. Sam clocks in. Ralph clocks in. Those sheep aren’t going to steal themselves. It would make a very lonely life for an animal that prefers to stay in a flock. And yes, the two main player’s finally have their definitive names.

With a blow of the whistle, Ralph starts digging. Pop up as needed to refill lungs and get a good view of the area. Probably best to do that behind trees so you won’t get spotted so easily. Ralph is spotted easily, and the next tree he looks behind is Sam. One punch down, infinite to go. And Ralph doesn’t have a company he could sue for his failings. (And if you still haven’t watched that movie yet, you’re failing me. Our friendship won’t last if you can’t do this only favor I’m asking.)

Better try the opposite of under the earth. Ralph flings a harpoon into a tree, ties its line to another, and makes a tightrope to cross. Now he can obtain an ovine with a lasso, and dart back across before Sam notices. Can not will, you understand.  Sam has taken over holding the right end for the tree, and demands the sheep. Ralph complies and sprints back to left, before Sam drops the line. He makes it to the harpoon, just before Sam drops that. Sheepdogs are faster than sound.

The next plan actually does function near perfectly! Ralph fires a rocket with a rope loop at Sam, and it takes him far away. Finally! It’s taken two other cartoons, but a mutton meal is on the way! I recommend the black sheep of this herd. Ironically, it’s the one with the white face! If only Ralph had accounted for trees that might have gotten Sam’s rocket lodged in. He never considered just walking the opposite way. Have you ever carried a ewe uphill?

Time for some acting. Dis guy’s disguise is Bo Peep. As part of his role, he’s lost his sheep, but Sam needn’t bother getting up. “She” can pick it out amongst the others and take it back to her cave. (Times are rough for those Peeps.) As “she” reveals she’s a wolf, “sheep” reveals he’s a dog. Meanwhile, a sheep is suffocating inside a dog suit. It’s baked mutton or nuttin’ for dinner! And later, Sam flips Ralph’s cannon back at him. Poor Ralph gets a color change for his muzzle.

You know, Sam’s a rather fuzzy guy. If his nose wasn’t so amazing, he’d be legally blind. All Ralph heard of that was “blind”. He pours some hair growth formula on Sam and the rain and sun do their part to work it in. After the storm, Sam’s face is even more covered than usual. And he doesn’t react to Ralph waving in front of his lack of line of sight. Or Ralph’s eyes changing color. It must be working! It’s taken about three cartoons, but a mutton meal is on the way!

And Sam grabs Ralph before he lays a paw on the livestock. But time comes to rescue, and the clock says the two are done for the day. Bidding each other goodnight, they head off for a haircut and massage, respectively.

Favorite Part: The smile on Ralph’s face when he realizes he dug behind Sam. It’s equal points horrified, clueless, and hilarious. Beautifully complimented by Sam’s wry little half grin.

Personal Rating: 4. And that’s all on Ralph here. His expressions and dances belie his carnivorous nature, and make him look like an overly confident kid.

 

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Bell Hoppy

“This calls for a special meetin’ of the brotherhood.”

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Tedd Pierce; Animation by Charles McKimson, Herman Cohen, Rod Scribner, and Phil DeLara; Layouts by Robert Givens; Backgrounds by Richard H. Thomas; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on April 17, 1954.

The club, I mean, the club that any cat would want to be a part of is the LOYAL ORdeR OF ALLey CATƧ MOUƧING and CHowDeR CLuB. You will die and go to flavor heaven upon tasting their bunting bisque. But you won’t ever get that chance because they’re very particular about inducting new members. Sylvester has been denied and since you’re not better than him, you’ll have to settle for the club next door. “The not worthies.”

This isn’t the first denied application Sylvester has gotten. And constant rejections are starting to affect his speaking. He sounds as wistfully longing as a teen girl hoping that Bradley will ask her to the prom. Those cats are just the swellest swells that ever swelled. They hunt and eat. Maybe grab some tail on weekends. Hey, wait a minute. Are female felines banned? Are mountain lions banned? I’m guessing the one I’m petting right now says otherwise.

Meanwhile at Acme Rare Animal Importing Co., (So many kinds of illegal. Maybe just one, actually.) a man from the zoo has come to collect a baby kangaroo. The joey escapes and nobody sounds like they’re trying very hard to contain him. Sure, he’s cute now, but he’ll do you one. Maybe two, actually. And if he grows, then you’ll really be screwed. Show me a human who can stand up to a full grown boomer and I’ll scrape them off the ground.

The leader of the club that isn’t made for you or me finds the little guy whilst hunting for mice. This is just great, because this is definitely a giant mouse in front of him, and that would make an excellent banquet. And plenty left over to make into a kangaroux. (They’ll still call it ‘mouse’ though.) Turns out, he’s not any better at catching Hippety than Sylvester is, and is flung into the garbage. He needs minions, and it just so happens that he doesn’t lack lackeys.

His plan goes like this: stick a bell on the creature to hear it approach, then the whole lot of them can attack at once. Not a bad idea in all honesty. But while his subordinates will believe his crazy story without question, not one of them has the balls to put the bell on the beast. Well, welcome to your lucky day, because Sylvester is returning to ask again for admittance. Opinions tend to change on an hourly basis. The poo bah has gotten an idea!

Yeah, Sylvester can join. Just has to pass the initiation. Find a mouse big enough to put a bell around the neck of. I hope you’re willing to pay up should he succeed, since if he doesn’t you still don’t have any other willing participants. Sylvester will do anything to join, and that includes stuff that sounds implausible. But he finds Hippety and sees a membership in his future. Maybe he’ll get a hat too!

Hippety doesn’t want to be belled. Or, he doesn’t understand what Sylvester is doing, but finds the bell fun to dodge. Beating up cats is also fun, and Sylvester is flung away, with the bell ending up around his own neck. The club jumps him and gives him such a thrashing. You’d think they’d be glad to make this mistake, but they seem upset. It’s hard to enjoy anything you like doing when you’re hungry. Hence why I always post after I eat dinner.

Sylvester hides in a cart to surprise the “mouse”, but the target just bumps it and it rolls away. Clanging because it too, has bells on it. Sylvester is pummeled again. He tries trapping Hippety in a junkyard, but the little guy just bounces him off a plank placed like a see-saw. See? Yeah, he saw. In fact, Sylvester drops down to do the same in reverse. Turns out a baby kangaroo weighs more than your average alley feline, and Sylvester is flung near a streetlight. Hey, it sounds similar to the be-

He may not always use it to its fullest, but Sylvester does have a brain buried in that head of his. And it’s time to put it to work. He sets up a mirror in front of a missing fence post, where Hippety will see it. He does. He doesn’t stop, but it’s all part of the plan. Now that he’s seen his reflection, he won’t immediately flee or fight when Sylvester take the role of reflection at the next missing post. Hippety does notice things have changed. Or maybe he’s changed. Something has changed, and he stops to examine things.

Sylvester does an excellent job matching movements. I think Hippety is convinced that this is just how things are going to look from now on. When Sylvester puts the bell around his own neck, Hippety grabs it for himself seeing as how he’s the original. Sylvester has succeeded. I can’t believe I’m getting to type such a sentence, but here we are. Really puts the cat in cathartic. And the cat in Hippety. His pupils have gone vertical, so the change has already begun. Better hurry before you club members unknowingly commit cannibalism.

Hippety follows Sylvester and just so happens to run across the guy from the zoo. He knew waiting around for the problem to solve itself was the American way. Besides, now PETA can’t claim that the animal didn’t want to be in captivity. Hippety is having fun with the bell and rings it loud for all to hear. Like all the members of the club, perhaps? They jump in the line of a speeding vehicle. The club is no more?

Nah. Sylvester did technically succeed in his test, so he’s in. What’s more, they need him to keep the club alive. Their little mishap has landed them all in multiple casts. Hurtin’ but humbled. And unable to object to Sylvester naming himself as the new leader. I can’t believe how well things worked out for everyone! (And that’s coming from someone who used to believe ‘X’ was the sixth vowel.)

Favorite Part: You can blink and miss it, but I’d rather you didn’t. It’s the look on the club’s faces as their 45 lives pass before their eyes. Good think chowder can be slurped with a broken jaw.

Personal Rating: 3

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Foxy by Proxy

“I’ve seen better heads on a glass of root beer.”

 

A rabbit as a fox in a fix.

Directed by I. Freleng; Story by Warren Foster; Animation by Virgil Ross, Arthur Davis, Manuel Perez, and Ken Champin; Layouts by Hawley Pratt; Backgrounds by Irv Wyner; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on February 23, 1952.

After swearing you’re having deja-vu, you’ll be having deja-vu. The opening scene has just been swiped from another cartoon. You’ll swear you’re having deja-vu! It’s made even worse by the rear being brought up by a pudgy hound. We might as well call him Lenny because if we’re going to rip off Tex’s stuff, he’d want us to do as much as we can.

Explanation:

That’s taking the ‘L’.

We do have a fun visual with the dogs being a canine tsunami. Their surging brings them to Bugs’s place, and he is nearly stampeded. Bugs doesn’t think too fondly of fox hunting. You’d think he’d be all for humans decreasing the numbers of one of his predators, but Bugs is top of the food chain. Lenny; slow of mind, slow of foot, asks Bugs where they went. Surprisingly, Bugs gives genuine directions. Lenny just shoves him aside. Fox caudectomy is the peak of entertainment!

Bugs decides to have some fun with his fur-suit old Halloween costume. But I think it’s just a boneless fox that Bugs deboned himself. Watch the eyes. They change. He gets the hounds on his trail, before ducking behind a tree. What fun! Lenny; slow of mind, slow of foot, (you’ll swear you’re having deja-vu.) comes up to ask where the dogs went. And I mean slow of mind. You see, Bugs’s hat is on backwards, facing the dog. When Bugs turns his actual head around, thus turning the hat around too, Lenny asks where the guy he was talking to went.

Bugs humors him and lets Lenny ask who he’s comfortable talking to. He sends the lug off, knowing he’s going to catch on soon. He does and one-eighties. Paydirt! By which I mean fox tracks! By which I mean, I’m a better tracker than he is because I can tell you those aren’t fox tracks. I don’t mean they’re just stamps Bugs left for him, I mean they don’t resemble the tracks of Vulpes vulpes. I demand it be accurate for your sake. I don’t want you to embarrass yourself by stating foxes have two toes on each foot in public.

I won’t deny the next tracks he identifies: train. But screw that! The fox is right there by the entrance to a tunnel. Knowing the dog’s limited I.Q., Bugs asks if he could even identify a fox. It is rather tricky. Sometimes they’re pilots, sometimes they wear socks, and sometimes they’re on fire. But this is what Lenny was bred for. He knows what a fox looks like, and Bugs looks like what a fox looks like. Looks like he’s a fox!

But wait just a minute! Objection, if you will. This dog was following train tracks. Ergo, isn’t he looking for a train? There’s one just inside this tunnel. That is flawless logic. Flogic. Lenny darts in and gets his prize. You know, it’s beautiful to see someone’s reason for existing come to fruition. Of course, now he has to find a new one or be put down. I like watching smiles slide off faces. There’s now only one matter of unfinished business: all the other dogs.

They’re a bit more disciplined and will need some doing to lose. Bugs goes through streams, through trees, through and through and winds up right in front of the angry hounds. Well, might as well come clean. He reveals himself to be a rabbit. The dogs decide they’re chasing rabbits. Don’t you hate it when cartoons suddenly have realistic outcomes? Bugs has to utilize the “luring chasers into a log and angling it off a cliff” bit. Always works. I hope the dogs are okay. I hope your dog is doing okay too.

Bugs confidently states that while the dogs could get a fox’s tail, they’d never get a rabbit’s. That’s your cue Lenny! Before Bugs can react, Lenny runs home the sole victor in today’s game. The humans disappeared long ago though, so I don’t know who’s going to reward him. Bugs decides to take things in stride. After all, Lenny only got the hair of a hare. Add shaved-tail Bugs to the list of cursed images, please.

Favorite Part: Just those dog masses. Look at them! They’re just dogs being dogs. Happy to have air in their lungs, not afraid of being seen as goofy, enjoying life. It’s make me glad that at least one species can.

Personal Rating: 3.

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Little Beau Pepé

“A pitiful case, am I not?”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Michael Maltese; Animation by Lloyd Vaughan, Ben Washam, Ken Harris, and Phil Monore; Layouts by Robert Gribbroek. Backgrounds by Philip DeGuard; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on March 29, 1952.

Welcom to Le Desért Sahára! Oh, pardon their French. That translates to “The Desert Desert”. Where you can be sure to find three things in a cartoon: sand, a foreign legion outpost, and hot sand. Item 2 on the checklist is right over there. And it’s got a great array of troops. There’s Monocle, Eye-patch, Noselookslikeadragon’stail, and Magic Stubble. They’re hideous, but that’s okay. The people who end up here are the unloved ones who were never going to be anything but alone. (That’s me at the end there.)

Fittingly, the mascot is an animal that wouldn’t love anyone even if they were sexy: a femme pusseé cat. Plus, when you’re stationed in the world’s biggest litter box, they’ll come to you. In the meantime, there’s lots to do. That ladder isn’t going to paint itself. And Mel’s paint is the perfect color. It will reflect heat, and make gripping it less painful. And while it look compact, this fort always has room for one more. Uncle Francois loves all his nephews.

Enter our titular beau. He’s finally had enough of ladies running away from him, so has come to enlist to forget. Sadly, the commander, and every other human for that matter, flee before we can learn his social security number. I was going to use that information for innocent things, officer readers! Pepé is a mite confused at first, but quickly deduces that he has already risen to such a rank as post defender. I believe he could chase any threats away.

As he patrols, the mascot gets up for her daily ladder rub. It’s a cat thing, I’m sure. But she doesn’t look so cat like to me anymore. Thanks to Mel’s paint being the kind that takes 24 hrs. to dry, it’s still wet. And coating her fur in such a way as to suggest a skunk’s pelt. And Pepé is an addict, so he wasn’t going to make it going cold turkey anyhow. His best bet would be to wait a few decades, until women are allowed to be a part of the armed forces, then get enlisted in a mixed group. Skunks can live that long!

He relapses and scoops her up. She wants no part of this? I shan’t believe it! Pepé has wonderful genes to pass on! Good thing he’s the expert here, and can explain what’s going on. She needs to touch-up her make-up. Maybe make sure her pheromones are in good wafting order, groom a little, buy a bathing suit. Pepé can wait for the first one, but he’s been alone too long. If she’s not in his arms every second, his paranoia is going to suggest that she’s seeing other skunks. Hinky has power! Good looks get eaten alive by that!

Considering she didn’t even make it up the stairs, I think Pepé was right on the money. Besides, who doesn’t enjoy a good game of tag? He cheats and stays still, so she has to run back down and hide in a barrel. The same one Pepé was preparing the drinks in. As a teetotaler, she flees again and ventures out into the dunes. She’s not a meerkat; only a mere cat, and hardly gets anywhere before the heat starts driving her to exhaustion. Pepe is in his element seeing as how he’s a skink. (There’s no ‘I’ in ‘skunk’.)

Penelope manages to get to the nearest oasis. And it’s no mirage! And since the very appearance of a cat makes everyone vacate, it’s all hers. She heads for the life juice, but Pepé meets her there. Fear and exhaustion finally tag-team her into submission, and down she goes. Pepé gets her into the prettiest tent. Yet, she’s still out cold. How can that be when the man of her dreams isn’t even in them? This is going to require some stimulants. Smelling salts aren’t nearly so pleasant, what she needs is a good nose of perfume. This tent is well stocked.

Pepé mixes a little of each one together, and I think he concocted a winner! Green scents are nauseating, but pink ones are arousing! You’d think the delicious ones would have a more appealing hue than clear, but that’s neither here nor there, or even yonder. Pepé gives a good spritz, and plays some music to really seal the deal. His charms work like a charm and the lady awakens with hearts as her pupils. Further lending credence to my theory that the only problem with Pepe is that he’s a skunk! A lack of con-scent never played any part in things!

Sadly, Pepé is no different than any other males. He brags about being Chuck’s gift to ladies, but when an actual woman shows interest, he curls up in his shell. Unless she’s close enough to grab him. Then he flees. It’s a wonder any race continues to thrive.

Favorite Part: The look on Penelope’s face when one of the troops gives her a back scratch. That’s a look of pure contentment. You want inner peace? Find someone willing to do the same to you.

Personal Rating: 3. I’m still a staunch Pepé defender. I hope he’s in Coyote Vs. Acme. Ooh! And maybe they could reference his debut by making the French casanova just a character he plays on screen!

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Two’s a Crowd

“Oh, you darling little fellow!”

Directed by Charles M. Jones; Story by Michael Maltese; Animation by Ken Harris, Phil Monroe, Ben Washam, Lloyd Vaughan, and Emery Hawkins; Layouts and Backgrounds by Peter Alvarado; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on December 30, 1950.

Claude has it good. Catnip candy, his own bed, toys, and he doesn’t have to share any of it. Sounds like this should be disrupted! As it turns out, the lady of the house just had a birthiversary. And John really wanted to prove he loves her, so he got her a puppy. So lively and frisky. You should call him Lively! Either that, or you can suggest your dog frisks people. You do you… is a statement I dislike because it sounds to me like you’re telling someone to @#*% themselves. Now, back to the show.

Claude is not pleased. The tiny creature has got to go, lest it keeps reminding Claude that its cuter than him. The lady, Dear, does question what they will do if Claude doesn’t like the cutie. Simple answer isn’t it? You get rid of the cat. A dog is better in every way, anyway. That’s John’s reasoning anyhow. And Dear is fine with it. Did either of you actually adopt him? Or did he just come with the house? With his home on the line, Claude comes out and fawns over the little muffin. Even keeping his cool when Frisky bites his nose. This has healthy relationship written all over it.

Now, most humans lose interest in their new animals shortly after obtaining them. To whit, John and Deer are off to the movies. Claude can house train the little guy. But right now, what Claude is smelling is an opportunity. He can off the pup while they’re out. NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW! Once the humans leave, he reveals that he’s no declawed cat. He’s ready to skin the whelp alive or dead. He’s not going to be replaced. He’s not yellow figuratively, just literally. He’s-

On the ceiling. That little pup is fast! And Claude always has had a bit of a nervous temperament. When the dog barks, he flies into the air. It’s annoying, but harmless as he always lands on his feet. Claude thinks he’s got in cornered in the closet, but that was his own mirror reflection. The mirror breaks, but the pieces that fall out are the ones that surrounded Claude’s impact. And here I thought the results would be mirrored. (Man! How do I only average 200 visitors a week?)

This requires bait. Puppy biscuits are just the thing! They’re crunchy, flavorful. Need any other reasons? Frisky follows the trail Claude has led to the washing machine. Drowning him and breaking his bones? Diabolical! Dogs love their bones! Too bad Claude not only got his tail caught inside, but Frisky ducked back at the last second. Luckily, it all comes out in the wash, and Claude exits looking like a Cheetos snack somebody left in a glass of water. (Incidentally enough, that was my grandma’s preferred way to eat them. I hate myself for reminding me.)

We’ll need to try again with different bait. Sausages linked to dynamite will do. He whistles for the dog, who then warps from where he was standing to walking towards the meat treat. Frisky gobbles them down whilst Claude takes cover. He’s then horrified to find the dog came over to thank him personally. Claude hides from the combustible canine in the closet, and finds out that the little guy got full before he ever touched the spicy parts. Seven lives left! That should cancel out the broken mirror’s powers.

Simplest is best, so Claude just chases Frisky with an axe. The pup’s secret advantage? He’s small. He easily fits in the heat vent. Claude goes to get a plunger, giving Frisky the chance to escape. Claude’s adrenaline powers him up something fierce as he pumps plenty of suction into the furnace. He gets a wealth of burning coal and a plume of fire in the living room. Suddenly, I get it when people say a cat brings warmth to a household. Won’t the parents be pleased!

Nope. Deer is devastated; John is livid. No way an innocent baby did any of this. Claude is kicked out of the house but permanently. And I say without irony that the cartoon ends happily for everybody. For you see, Claude sneaks back in for his revenge. Simpler than an axe is giving Frisky a dose of his own medicine. Claude does a great impression of a dog barking, and Frisky is equally talented at playing a scared cat. Never knew his claws could grip like that!

Favorite Part: That puppy biscuit box may look like gibberish at first glance, but it becomes legible English later on. Basically stating that any animal can enjoy these things, because all animals have the same kind of digestive tract, right? Do you think the Jones unit had any idea that people would be able to catch such details in the future?

Personal Rating: 3

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Tweet Dreams

“Are you nervous?”

Directed by Friz Freleng. A Merrie Melody released on December 5, 1959.

Animals have emotions, and that means mental problems too. Modern sciences allow certain doctors to become experts on the mind, and can give you someone to talk to, so you can manage to overcome non-physical problems and live life more happy and carefree. It doesn’t really work on humans. I know ’cause I tried it once.

Sometimes the answer to what’s troubling a beast is very simple. Take the latest patient walking out of the clinic: a dog who thinks he’s a cat. The solution? His negligent owner just needs to stop giving him cat food. I could’ve figured that out. That means I’m a genius! Next patient! Sylvester is next, but he’s here by himself, and talks to the staff. This world is weird. Strange. Off putting. I like it here. Why care for an animal when you could just charge it rent?

As Sylvester gets himself comfortable on the couch, and is told to relay his life story, we realize we’re going to be stuck in one of those clip-show cartoons. I’d sigh, but I haven’t the energy. Sylvester begins with his childhood. Odd enough, to see one of McKimson’s shorts included, but more so? Sylvester is painting himself as his son! Does this mean we’re seeing Jr. as an adult? Does this mean all the shorts without Jr. are him as an adult? You can’t be too certain, seeing as being a ‘junior’ means his name really is Sylvester. Is that true for all the tomcats in their family? Is it sylvesters all the way back? Felis silvestris?

Back in “not making a big deal over something trivial land”, Sylvester uses a clip from “Whose Kitten Who” to explain that his dad never taught him how to catch mice, as they weren’t around. He can tie a kangaroo down, though. (Sport.) Without a mother, this meant he was straight outta luck for hunting. He had to resort to fishing, as that is done by instinct. He recalls the time in “Sandy Claws” where all he got for his troubles was a tour of a tuna’s digestive tract.

It was a fateful day, as that was when he first laid his eyes on Tweety, via a very goofy still frame. Almost as if someone was angry they weren’t getting to animate enough new footage. This first encounter led Sylvester to crash into a rock via water-skis, so he instantly decided to forget things by taking a trip to the (“Tweety’s) Circus”.  Who would’ve guessed Tweety worked there? He gives in to another chase, which ended with him angering an elephant. You’d think this would cause him to support the ivory trade, but no, it just convinced him that Tweety had to die.

They were just suddenly living together after that. He was no longer just “A Street Cat Named Sylvester“. It was a nice home, but he couldn’t enjoy it what with the canary obsession. Now being owned by Granny, he had to make sure his chases weren’t sighted. Hiding in her knitting box could cause him to lose fur, and I’m sure that also triggered something in him. And now we jump to Christmas, because this selection of clips wasn’t random enough. There were some “Gift Wrapped” shenanigans that got Granny wise to his game. It was probably her that suggested he get help or vacate his new domicile. What other choice did he have? Go back to fishing? Move back in with dad? Do some theater work?

Wouldn’t you know it, the doctor fell asleep. Not the worst idea to have during a clip show. But, rude nonetheless. Doesn’t even apologize. His more important problem is flying to Detroit. Telling Sylvester to call for another appointment, he jumps out the window. Not the worst idea to have dur- He can fly. This world is disturbing. Surreal. Non-cannon. Not having the money for any more visits, Sylvester flies after him.

Favorite Part: That ending was so random that I feel like if I didn’t give it the coveted position, it would hurt me. Mentally, per the theme.

Personal Rating: 1. I really don’t think you should watch these in an era where many of the featured clips can be watched in whole on physical media/whatever you’d call the opposite.

And with that said, can you believe I’ve been doing this for fifteen years now? I haven’t improved much. I’m also considering something: I’ve had my own idea for an animated series for almost as long, and I’ve never really discussed it anywhere with anyone. I’d like to just put my thoughts out there, and I think this blog could be good for that.

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Sandy Claws

*Tarzan Yell*

Directed by I. Freleng; Story by Arthur Davis and Warren Foster; Animation by Art Davis, Manuel Perez, and Virgil Ross. Layouts by Hawley Pratt; Backgrounds by Irv Wyner; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Music by Carl Stalling. A Looney Tune released on April 2, 1955.

I really don’t understand the Oscars. Not that I’ve really tried to, but this short was good enough to be a nominee? It’s good, but not great. If I had to pick from the choices for that year’s best cartoon, I’d have gone with “Crazy Mixed up Pup”. I’m digressing.

Granny is an odd bird. Well, she’s not a bird, but if she was she’d still be an odd one for resembling a human. She’s odd for bringing an actual bird to the beach. Not that canaries shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy the beach, but it screams “The grandchildren want nothing to do with me, so I shower my love and will all my belongings on the only creature that does.” She sets Tweety down on a rock, promising to return once she’s gotten into her bikini. I know half of you started reaching for tissues and the other halfs’ brains threw up. You’re both in for a surprise.

What isn’t surprising is Sylvester not being too far off. He’s fishing for his food today. The worm seems hesitant to sacrifice its life, but Sylvester’s gun forces its (suddenly appearing) hand. Bait and baiter are swallowed by a tuna. Sylvester manages to get free, but loses all that valuable sashimi. He needs something easier to eat. He is all American after all, and we are satisfied to put as little effort as possible into our meals. Just as long as it’s warm and tasting of salt.

Tweety meets those requirements. Sylvester makes to nab him, when he gets swallowed again. This time by a wave. He escapes again, but Tweety wasn’t so lucky. That wasn’t just a wave. In fact, I’d say it was fit to be tide! (I don’t like myself.) You can’t spell ‘catfish’ without ‘cat’ but Sylvester isn’t going to swim out to eat. He tries lowering himself via his fishing pole, but runs out of line. Hey, since you’re halfway there now, it’d be stupid to return to shore, right?

Right. So he steals a boat. Being tied to the dock makes him lose the sides via momentum. The three words that best describe him are, and I quote, sink, sank, sunk.  Attaching skis and an outboard motor work better, but he crashes into Tweety’s island. Hey, since you’re all the way there now, it’d be stupid to return to shore, right?

No, because then he’d be stuck waiting for the tide. He finally decides to just swim out via water wings (that’s what those are, right?) but that’s when the sharks show up. We don’t see more than the dorsal fins, but they’re obviously dogfish. (I really don’t like myself.) Too bad the tuna got Sylvester’s gun. Granny finally exits the changing room. Poor dear is really out of touch. Her “bikini” could only get away with such a label in the 1890’s, perhaps. Just for that, there’ll be no more Bea Benaderet voicing you. Somebody tell June to show up early this year!

As any pet owner would be, Granny is upset to find her bird lost at sea, and easy octopus pickin’s. Sylvester the lifeguard to the rescue! I love his little outfit! (I say “love” too much. I should really switch it up.) Granny loves him too, mistaking this for an act of heroism. He crashes, and she plans to revive him via bucket of water. Both end swallowed by the ocean. (This might be the record of times Sylvester was swallerd.) Time for a team-up.

Granny mans the pumps while Sylvester treks out in a diving suit. (Makes me wonder if she can understand him in this short.) Too bad they took too long, and Tweety just decided to save himself by rowing back to the beach. (Would his cage really float?) So elated at finding her darling unharmed, Granny leaves her post to reunite. With no one at the pump, Sylvester begins suffocating. Granny remembers him though, and does to her best to compensate. That’s more air than Sylvester can breathe and it has to go somewhere…

He bails from the now floating suit, somehow anticipating this very situation, seeing as he has a parachute. Granny has lost sight of him now, and is upset because she really feels like the cat deserves a reward. He gets the exact opposite, drifting into the institution you always find near the beach: the dog pound. It’s just good manners to give them one day of fun before they have to be put down.

Favorite Part: Honestly, the team-up. It’s funny to think Granny is unknowingly abetting in attempted murder. In fact, they really should have made it last throughout the picture.

Personal Rating: 3. Good. But Oscar worthy? I don’t see it.

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A Fox in a Fix

“Ooh! You evil genius, you!”

Daffy dog and egg head.

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Tedd Pierce; Animation by Rod Scribner, Phil DeLara, Charles McKimson, Emery Hawkins, John Carey, and J.C. Melendez; Layouts by Cornett Wood; Backgrounds by Richard H. Thomas; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Merrie Melody released on January 20, 1951.

The lights on the farm are out, which makes it the perfect time for sneaking. A fox I’m calling Chum descends down with a sack. Either he’s prone to hyperventilation, or he comes to pillage poultry. It’s the latter, and it’s hard to blame him. Freshly snatched hens taste way better than the dead ones at your local grocery stores. They’re also susceptible to fainting spells, so there’s hardly any struggle. There’s also the old ‘chickens wearing bloomers under their feathers’ bit, but it’s barely on screen, so I barely laugh.

As he leaves, he gets caught by that bulldog who features in McKimson shorts, with a great bit of reaction animation. (Although the fog is a little distracting.) In his usual passive-aggressive tone, he talks to Chum. He understands that foxes like chickens, but seeing as how he’s the watchdog, it’d look bad if he didn’t do his job. Chum was just lucky he didn’t trespass on one of those places where he’d be slapped around. (As the dog thusly demonstrates.) All things considered, he gets off relatively unharmed, with just getting tossed off the premises. (Caniformia privilege means no penalties.)

Chum vows to get his dinner and comes up with a brilliant idea! Sharing a common ancestor means it will be easy to disguise himself as a Canis familiaris. Then, the watchdog won’t automatically evict him on site. Just got to shave some of the bushier bits, and WHAMMO! Instant foxhound! To really sell the illusion, he’ll have to prove he’s not nocturnal by entering during the dangerous daylight hours. Then, he’ll play up a sob story of being a hard-luck dog who is dying of starvation, thirst, and rabies.

It doesn’t work, but it does. That means that the watchdog knows exactly who it is because he operates on smell rather than sight. Whoops. However, he doesn’t let on, and invites Chum to stick around for a while. Even offers to share his food pellets. Being domesticated is worth it alone for the “meals”. The chickens seem to like him; being creatures that operate on sight rather than smell. Love the tension on Chum’s face as he tries his darnedest to fight his predatory urges.

Now one of the pack, Chum tries getting what he came for. The watchdog stops him with an offer: why not become a watchdog himself? He could get a real home, with a real purpose, and all the pellets he could eat! The watchdog even offers to train him. They’ll start with lesson one: watchdogs attack burglars. Teaching will be taught via role play. Chum will be the dog; dog, the burglar. Chum complies and learns lesson two in the process: burglars carry bits of lead pipe that they crush dog craniums with.

Lesson three is one anyone could do, even you: fetching a stick. A very important part of watchdoggery, to be sure. How else would you know to bring back whatever is left of a burglar after you’ve massacred them? Makes excellent fertilizer. Chum passes with flying colors, of course. His reward is to do it again! The best teachers are the ones who can disguise the fact they’re teaching you at all. Thus, the watchdog sends Chum after a lit dynamite stick to demonstrate lesson four: burglars will trick you if you don’t kill them fast enough.

Chum has survived his first day of training, so it’s time for well deserved rest. That watchdog must be very sure of his safety, if he’s willing to share his sleeping quarters. But then, maybe Chum can’t revenge murder on an empty stomach. With his nemesis bedding down for the night, Chum goes to the coop once more. He gets his prize, but the watchdog is always on duty and stops him again. Chum decides to literally pull the ‘somnambulist card’ which states that you DON’T wake a sleepwalker. He could be very embarrassed.

Chum exits the premises, and now I love the chicken’s “what’s the use in struggling/is this real” expression. Chum lets her go when he eyes a much meatier prize: one of those cassowary sized birds that isn’t even a cassowary. Boot camp WAS worth it! But lesson five is to not be greedy, and he failed that one. Non-silent chicken is dog! (Chum’s shadow disappears. I know that’s common at night, but I still felt it worth mentioning.) Knowing there’s no way out of this, Chum flees and hitches a ride before he has to hear any more lessons.

Turns out lesson six was really important. It’s to not hitch rides with strangers. Otherwise you might find yourself a fox in a furriers truck. They operate by smell too you know.

Favorite Part: Chum’s run when he has to play along with the lesson plan. It’s reluctant, disgusted, humiliated and really sells the image of a child who is being forced to play with a younger sibling.

Personal Rating: 3. High 3.

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There Auto be a Law

“The automobile is the American’s prized possession.”

Directed by Robert McKimson; Story by Tedd Pierce; Animation by Phil DeLara, Charles McKimson, Herman Cohen, and Rod Scribner; Layouts by Robert Givens; Backgrounds by Richard H. Thomas; Voice Characterization by Mel Blanc; Musical Direction by Carl W. Stalling. A Looney Tune released on June 6, 1953.

I don’t much care for cars. They pollute and are too difficult for me to control. I’d learn, but the rest of the world would need to slow down and have a little patience. It’d be much easier to eat my way out of a bowhead whale. In one sitting, yet. But yeah, cars is our focus today. Not the Pixar series that everyone hates too much. (No seriously, “2” is a pretty good film.) Car gags, car jokes, and a car toon. Now that I’ve made the most obvious and trite one, we can see what the professionals have come up with.

We begin with a brief history of the motorized land vehicle. They were originally invented to be a horse that didn’t eat plant-based food. The name ‘Horseless cariage’ seemed a good fit, so they were named thusly. You could whip them just like a horse, so it wasn’t a difficult adjustment. But some cars were more stubborn, and would require four hands to get it moving. (Shoving.) Speaking of, the animation gets really jerky. What happened, Bob? Should I blame Herman?

As is the way of the human, they would get bored with current designs and constantly feel a need to update what was well enough left alone. Okay, so the windshield was an improvement. And the heater. The cup holders too. Everything else was extraneous. The suckers never stopped being expensive, but everyone and their dead relatives wanted one and couldn’t be denied. This led to the invention of something totally unexpected, the traffic jam. Sometimes it’s because of a wreck, sometimes it’s just a manner of too many drivers. This time: it’s a woman reapplying her make-up. (Hey! We know you!)

To try and keep things moving smoothly and quickly, highways were invented. Basic ones with little imagination, to full on clover-leafs. Those are expansive enough to get lost in, and such is the fate of an unlucky driver I’m gonna call Preston. He pulls over at the convenient hamburger stand for directions. If he keeps to the right, he should get out okay. Awfully decent of that man. I’d have said directions only come free with a purchase of a combo meal.

Sometimes roads would need to be built across bodies of water, and tolls would be charged to cross. It’s half price today, because the bridge is half built. You know, I might have called this my favorite part in the narration didn’t explain the punchline. We can see the joke. I’d be willing to let it get as far as saying “Oh, that’s why!” But please, respect my intelligence, and acknowledge my existence. (You really need two people to believe anything before there’s a possibility of it being true.)

Intersections can be scary. Especially the one’s located in Wile E.’s desert. You get in a wreck here, you lose your car and become more closely acquainted with the elements than is comfortable. Our driver stops carefully, looks both ways, then proceeds at an appropriate speed level. One of those people who think they are above fair rules drives right through him. The elements get their prize this time. But the real problem here is: Did Preston get off the loop safely?

He has not. He asks the burger man again and he’s still happy to help. Though, he says to go a different direction and keep left this time. Something wrong here! Maybe it’s as simple as getting kicks from sending people the wrong way, maybe it’s a devious punishment for not buying a delicious burger. Those cows died for you, you know. You really want to tell their calves that mommy died for no reason? No, veal isn’t an option.

We have cars that are good enough for a daily drive about town, but if its speed you need, you’d do better to look into a hot rod. These cars get rid of the all the junk that was just slowing them down, and allows you to attempt a new speed record. 130 mph isn’t too bad, but better can be done. That horseless carriage that goes by whip power humbles you good! It was fast enough to go through time, so you don’t have a chance. Just an overbite.

Parking spaces are where cars go to nap when you have no need of them for the moment. Some people make a decent living placing your vehicle in them while you spend your time entering buildings, getting on subways, and switching cars to avoid the cops. It takes finesse and skill. And not letting the customer notice you can scrunch their car width-wise to make sure it would fit. But there’s some decent folks in the world too. Those who will actually let you siphon gas. Don’t swallow it. It gives you carpox.

Preston pulls over one more time to see if the third time is the charm. Finally, the burger man admits the truth: he never knew how to get off this loop and has been stuck here for a decade. That’s why he built this stand; to fend off starvation. You’ll notice he doesn’t advertise his burgers as  being made of beef. It’s a good thing Preston was the second person who got stuck here today. At least now he’ll have someone to talk to. With no other option, Preston opens a topping stand. When that time traveler’s whip arm wears out, they’ll be just what he needs.

Favorite Part: A man taking careful measurements to be absolutely certain his car will fit into a garage. (Owned by Ken Harris, no less.) This could go several ways: it still doesn’t fit, he puts two cars in, he crashes, or he could really throw a loop and drive away. The right answer: he drives through two trees that weren’t growing far apart enough to pass through.

Personal Rating: 3. I’d like to give it a four, as its one of the stronger gag shorts, but I feel like that’s being a bit too generous. Just pretend I use decimal points and call it a 3.5.