I begin this week’s installment, with apologies, by including some brief references out of chronology to several Warner Brothers cartoons I missed addressing in prior chapters of this series. Then, we move on in 1945 and 1946, with action from Disney, MGM, and more Warner Brothers.

First, the oversights which properly belonged to past chapters. I Love To Singa (Warner, Merrie Melodies, 7/18/36 – Fred (Tex) Avery, dir.) gets an honorable mention. Avery’s characters aren’t overly conscious of their cartoon existence in this homage to Warner’s breakthrough talkie hit, “The Jazz Singer”. But its lead character, a young would-be jazzer named Owl Jolson, overcomes the disapproval of his classically-trained father to win an amateur hour loving cup, and even wins over his family when they see he is about to take the pruze instead of the gong. The whole family joins in the title number for a dancing, singing finale, as the iris closes on the scene – too deep into the screen, shutting out from the characters the loving cup, which is left alone in the foreground. The young owl at least has the cognizance of the medium to pry open the iris, grab the cup back into the screen, and let the iris close shut behind him.

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Hare-Um Scare-Um (Warner, Merrie Melodies, 8/12/39 – Ben Hardaway/Cal Dalton, dir.) – The first appearance of the prototypical “Bugs’” Bunny in Technicolor. Bugs in this incarnation is as tetched in the head as Screwy Squirrel, culminating his berserkness in a song entitled “Woo Woo” (which the real Bugs would later modify into “Here’s the Easter Rabbit, Hooray” for “Easter Yeggs”). In the course of the song, Bugs utters the couplet, “Nothing ever wrong. Life was just a song. ‘Til that Looney Tune came along.” He encounters a billboard advertising Looney Tunes, with a picture of Porky Pig (marking Porky’s technical first appearance in three-strip color) and the famous catch-phrase, “That’s all folks”. Bugs, demonstrating that it is the cartoons that have made him crazy, rips the paper poster from the billboard frame, revealing the surprise of a projection screen underneath. “I’m going cuckoo, Woo Woo. Here comes the choo-choo, Woo Woo”, sings Bugs, as a movie of a thundering locomotive appears on the screen. The script of the film is routine – Bugs heckles hunter and his dog, much as in the original “Porky’s Hare Hunt”. For reasons which are still somewhat a mystery, the original ending of the film was cut short in theatrical release by an abrupt fade-out, as the hunter is forced to square off against Bugs’ entire family. Fortunately, a director’s cut has surfaced, now commonly becoming the new “normal” for showings of this film, suggesting that the cut may have been made because Schlesinger or someone thought the ending too similar to “Daffy Duck and Egghead.”

Hop, Skip, and a Chump (Warner, Merrie Melodies, 1/3/42 – I. (Friz) Freleng, dir.) – This cartoon actually nearly deserves to be forgotten, as it is among my least-favorite Freleng productions. Pacing is decidedly slow, and its characters unengaging – particularly two crows or blackbirds who perform what may be the all-time poorest impressions of Laurel and Hardy ever committed to screen. Mel Blanc is definitely not up to the task of providing the Laurel and Hardy voices, and either no other voice substitute was available, or no one even bothered to look. Principal reasons for inclusion of the cartoon here are an introductory sequence by the object of the crow’s quest, a country grasshopper by the name of Hopalong Casserole, in which the insect introduces himself to the audience, then tells us to “Come here…a little closer…”, as the camera moves in for a close and closer close-up, as if we are being taken into the grasshopper’s confidence. The camera even pans in POV manner as the grasshopper informs us of the two birds watching from the bushes, and we venture an observing glance at them. The final shot of the film is another iris-out gag, as Hopalong leaps through the circle of the closing iris, landing on our side of the screen as the birds are shut out, and bragging again to the audience that he is “too fast for them” and will never be caught. Says he, as the Hardy bird pries open the iris to drag him back inside.

My Favorite Duck (Warner, Porky and Daffy, 12/5/42 – Charles M. (Chuck) Jones, dir.), is perhaps the most egregious of my past oversights, as it features a classic cartoon-to-audience ending. In their first appearance together in Technicolor. Porky and Daffy have a field day – afield in the great outdoors. Porky paddles a canoe over a scenic lake, crooning the stuttering refrain of “On Moonlight Bay”. Daffy (in his classic screwball mode), appears from underwater to join in the serenade in close harmony – no boat, but he simply spreads his webbed feet to simulate the shape of a canoe. When Porky realizes he has unexpected company, Daffy disappears down the lake in a “woo woo” frenzy. “G-Gosh, what a cr-cr–screwy duck”, comments Porky. Reappearing in the canoe, Daffy replies, “That, my little cherub, is strictly a matter of opinion”, as his eyes bulge out to almost fill Porky’s sockets.

Porky attempts to pitch his tent, but everywhere he tries to drive a stake, finds Daffy lounging on the ground, blocking his way. He is about to use the stake to inflict some bodily harm, when Daffy confronts him with a sign reading “Season Closed – No Duck Shooting. Don’t even molest a duck.” “Catch on, fatso?”, Daffy quips, establishing his running advantage to be revisited throught the film. Porky continues to find no open ground from the duck blocking his way, and finally pitches the tent in the only open space he can find – underwater in the lake bed. Breakfast is no snap either – as Daffy pulls an egg switch, replacing Porky’s chicken egg with a huge one. “Nothing like this mountain air to make things grow”, gullible Porky surmises. On cracking it open, a baby eagle is revealed – and Papa is right there to let Porky have it in the face with his own frying pan, while Junior, in a non-stop flurry of questions, asks if they’ll have to bury the man and if he has rigor mortis. Daffy flaunts signs warning of a $500 fine for duck harming every time Porky loses his cool. Daffy continues to pull cruel tricks on Porky, like turning his canoe upside down while he sleeps, then yanking on Porky’s fishing line, causing Porky to dive into – the sky, in attempt to retrieve his lost pole. Or giving Porky two sticks to rub together to start a fire, which just happen to be sticks of dynamite. In an odd and creative idea, Porky’s whole campsite is blown sky-high – and somehow hovers in mid-air until the bottom falls out from under Porky alone, sending him crashing to Earth.

Porky literally “burns up” into flames and a puff of smoke, then reassembles his atoms, saying “Oooh, if I just had a shotgun” Obliging Daffy hands him one, saying, “Okay, Annie Oakley, here y’are – but it ain’t gonna do you any good!” He pulls as if a window curtain another sign down from a tree, which we all expect to have the usual warning. But something new has been added, as the signage has been updated, now reading “Duck Season Opens Today.” An amazed Porky brightens with glee, and sets himself to the task at hand. Daffy, now getting a glimpse of the sign, starts backing up cautiously, hoping for a change in his fortunes. He zips behind a bush, producing another sign he hopes will have a better message. Better it is – for Porky, not for him, as the new sign reads, “No Limit! Shoot all you want.” Daffy tries again, and gets another sign reading “$500 reward for shooting a duck.” He hides behind a billboard, only to find the sign displaying a large arrow pointing directly at him, and the words “Shoot a duck today. Especially this duck.” With all the odds stacked against him, Daffy holds up a white flag. A shot from Porky’s rifle perforates the flag with buckshot holes, forming the letters, “Start praying duck.” All that’s left to do is run, which Daffy does to a high peak with a lone pine tree atop. He circles the tree as Porky gives chase close behind, round and round and round – and suddenly, the film snaps, as if broken in the projection booth. The screen goes blank – until Daffy peers out at us from the theatre wings. He walks to center stage, apologizing for the technical difficulty, but offers to satisfy the audience’s curiosity by telling them how the picture came out. He concocts a tale of how he launched a “counterattack”, showered Porky with lefts and rights, and had Porky “crawling – literally groveling at my feet…” From behind him in the wings rises an old-time stage “hook” from the days of vaudeville, which yanks Daffy back into the wings, where a loud crash is heard. Porky Pig crosses the stage, his rifle barrel bent to a shape assumed from a hard impact upon Daffy’s head, dragging the stupefied Daffy, who continues to mumble, “He’s pleadin’ for mercy. I’m killin’ ‘im.”

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Duck Pimples (Disney/RKO, Donald Duck, 8/10/45 – Jack Kinney, dir.) – This film qualifies for at least an honorable mention, as a cartoon rather defying classification. Its characters are definitely savvy of the artificiality of their existence, but possibly not aware they are in a cartoon. Instead, they are aware that they are from a book within a cartoon! The film begins with a dark, rainy night, as lightning bolts light the skies around Donald’s house. Donald is comfy in his living room, trying to settle in for the evening, and thinks he is tuning into a soothing, comforting radio show as he sits in his easy chair. A mellow voice from the broadcast commences, “My story begins…A woman speaks.” Instead of words, a shriek of terror is heard from the receiver. Donald, who had just turned out the lights to enjoy the show, flicks them on again, displaying his own jangled nerves as he freaks out at the audio sounds. Donald quickly switches the radio to another channel. But the airwaves abound in terror and mystery shows tonight, as another depicts the unpleasant sounds of someone drowning an old man who can’t swim. Another channel change, and someone calls out. “The ape! It’s behind you!” Donald’s imagination starts to come into play, as his green easy chair transforms into an equally-green ape, about to seize him. Another quick channel change to remove the ape, and Donald is bolting for the door. The door swings open before Donald can reach for it, flattening the duck against the wall. In the doorway, rain pouring down his outfit, stands a looming, mysterious man in a raincoat, with monstrous eyes. “Are you Mr. D. Duck?”, he asks in sinister tones. “Y-y-yes, sir”, Donald stammers. “I’ve been looking for you”, continues the man, and suddenly flings open his coat. Within his interior pockets rests a veritable library of murder magazines and ten-cent mystery novels. Suddenly breaking into a non-menacing juvenile voice, the man continues, “If I sell just six more subscriptions, I’ll win a real Moxie bicycle, with a horn, and a bell, and coaster brakes.” The equally-imaginative man picks up Donald, and takes him on a ride through the living room on his invisible imaginary bike. But when the man attempts to show off by riding “no hands”, the invisible bike hits a bump, scattering the man, Donald, and all of the man’s literature across the room. The man seems oblivious to the littering of his merchandise everywhere, and is only concerned with what has happened to his bike, riding off in jolting fashion and complaining, “See, now ya gone and bent the wheel.” Rather than exiting through the door, the man simply dissolves out of existence! (Donald should already realize he is going crazy.)

But Donald still tries to regain his composure, curiously peering into the pages of a novel with a skull and dagger on its covers left behind on his chair. The tale of Big Louie and Dopey Davis opens from the pages within. The voices of the characters become heard in Donald’s mind, as Louie attempts to discover if Davis is in possession of a stolen pearl necklace. When a knock is heard at the door in the story, Donald turns to look, and a pair of black hands emerge from the pages of the book, about to seize Donald’s throat. As Donald turns back to the book, the hands disappear, but the form of Dopey Davis rises into Donald’s face, begging for help, and claiming the cops are after him. As a siren and the screech of brakes are heard, Davis darts back within the pages, and the voice of an investigating officer is heard. Davis insists to the cop he hasn’t got the pearls, and the cop demands to know who has. “Who’s got ‘em? Why…He’s got ‘em”, responds Davis, his hand rising from the book’s pages to point the finger of accusation at Donald. Out from the book steps the investigating cop, grabbing Donald’s neck and strtching it, referring to Donald as “a big guy like you…”. as a background briefly dissolves in, depicting Donald’s head stretched to the elevation line of six feet tall in a police line-ip room. The background reverts to the living room again, as a second figure rises from the book’s pages – a shapely dame, the rightful owner of the stolen pearls. She is quite the scatterbrain, and immediately begins searching through every piece of furniture in Donald’s room for the pearls. She spies what looks like a pearl strand in the cop’s back pocket. But it is just the chain of the officer’s handcuffs. She creeps into and under the back of the cop’s coat in search of her jewelry, and periodically, her hands appear as an extra set of limbs to accentuate the cop’s gestures. The cop, meanwhile, has no idea where she went, and adds to the raps he is trying to pin on Donald kidnapping. A surreal moment occurs when the cop insists he has ways of making Donald talk, and calls out “Clark! The hot irons!” A third character emerges from the book – a fast-talking little salesman, with business cards under his hat piled upon his flat head, reading “Leslie J. Clark – hot irons.” He starts producing one after another red-heated iron rods, one of which the girl, appearing briefly from the cop’s coat, uses to curl a lock of her hair. When the irons become too hot for the cop to handle, he passes them to Donald. Donald runs around the room with his hands sizzling, and finally drops the irons back into the book’s pages. From within, the sounds of a panicked crowd and fire engines are heard. Then, a gush of water emerges from the pages, with the sound of a fire hose. “Oh, they’re putting out my hot irons, complains Clark, leaping back into the book’s pages, bever to be seen again (except for a cameo a good 40 years later in an episode of “Quack Pack”).

After more surreal carryings-on, the girl finally comes out of hiding, and both gang up on Donald. The cop holds a switchblade knife to Donald’s throat to make him talk, and the dame wields an axe over his head (in scenes usually butchered from TV screenings). A new face rises from the book – a mild-mannered, bespectacled balding man. “Stop! That man is innocent”, he declares in defense of Donald. The cop asks the dame who he is, and she responds. “J. Harold King, the author” (reference to Jack King, Donald’s usual director at the time). The cop asks the wise guy who done-it, and after consulting the book’s pages to refresh his recollection, the author responds “Hennessy.” “Not you, Hennessy?” inquires the cop. “Yes, H. U. Hennessy”, replies the author (reference to Disney art director Hugh Hennessy). “That’s me. I done it!”, confesses the cop. “But you’ll bever take me alive.” Producing a revolver, the cop climbs into the pages of the book, while holding Donald, the girl, and the author at bay. Before disappearing, the cop accuses Donald of having gotten him into this mess in the first place, and shouts “Take that.” The cop pulls the trigger – but it is a trick gun, from which emerges only an unfolding hand-fan. Donald nevertheless falls to the ground from sheer shock. The girl and author quickly disappear into the book themselves, fearful that if they hang around, they will “take the rap”. Donald is finally left alone in his living room, and inspects the open book, finding nothing but its pages. A new voice, perhaps that of Donald’s inner-consciousness, remarks, “Nothing really there, is there? Well perhaps, it was only your imagination.” Donald, on the verge of cracking up (if he has not already done so, responds with several nervous tics contorting his face, “Yeah…uh-huh…i-magi-nation.” As the final iris closes, the missing pearl necklace magically appears around Donald’s neck, as the screen closes to black.

Wild and Woolfy (MGM, Droopy 11/3’45 – Tex Avery, dir.) – A second summit meeting between Droopy, the wolf, and Red – but not nearly as spicy as the last one. Set in the wild west, it is the usual triangle, with the wolf, a wanted Western bandit (the original release’s wanted poster offered a choice between a whopping cash reward of $5,000 or one “C” book – I believe referring to commercial gas-rationing stamps), blowing into town after a stage holdup, and taking in Red’s Western themed saloon show, while Droopy sits passively by to offer the wolf irritation. A running gag has the wolf frequently disposing of Droopy by calling for a waiter to take him away, like the fly in a bowl of soup or the meal’s dirty dishes. The wolf again makes off with Red, leading to an extended chase by the posse, Droopy bringing up the rear. The usual sight gags abound, and sign gags as well, including detouring the pursuers onto a road leading to a sheer drop off a cliff, with a sign at the edge reading “End of pavement.” The wolf returns to his cabin where he has left Red tied up, but finds Droopy there instead. Repeating an ending from Warner’s “Litte Red Walking Hood”, the wolf asks, “Wait a minute, shorty. You been a-doggin’ me all through this picture. Just who the heck are you anyway?” “Why haven’t you heard? I’m the hero”, says Droopy, pulling a mallet out of his Stetson hat to clunk the wolf with, then calling for the ever=present waiter to dispose of him. Red again gives Droop a kiss. And Droopy goes wild – but this time stays so, galloping away with the struggling Red clutched under his arm.

Hare Tonic (Warner, Bugs Bunny, 11/10/45 – Charles M. (Chuck) Jones, dir.) – Elmer goes grocery shopping, bringing home a fresh rabbit (still live) for “wabbot stew”. Once home, Bugs snatches a small dinner bell, and shakes it vigorously to imitate a telephone ringing. Elmer picks up the phone, uttering an endless stream of inquiring “Hewwo?”s, while Bugs slips out the door for a quick exit. But this is not in character for the rabbit. As Bugs observes, “This setup’s too good. I just can’t leave. I gotta go back and heckle that character.” (Not only necessary to preserve the rabbit’s reputation, but to provide an actual plot for the film.) Bugs sneaks back into the living room, and puts his head into the back of Elmer’s floor-model radio. Imitating a radio announcer, Bugs “broadcasts” a warning from the Department of Health that all rabbits sold here within the last three days are infected with the dreaded disease Rabbititus. It is highly contagious to humans, causing spots before their eyes, coating of the tongue, violent fits, and delusions of assuming the characteristics of rabbits. Bugs zips back to Elmer’s cooking pot, and waits patiently for the gullible goon to show up. Elmer cautiously pokes his head into the kitchen, gently announcing, “You’re fwee, Mr. Wabbit. Fwee to scamper away. Far far away.” But Bugs is in no mood to leave, reminding Elmer that there’s still a stew to fix. Elmer steps back in terror, attempting to keep his distance, but Bugs still advances. Feigning having no idea why Elmer is avoiding him, Bugs sniffs himself and remarks, “Goodness, don’t tell me I offend.” Bugs finally takes the hint from Elmer to “Scwam!”, and walks out the front door. However, there is immediately the sound of hammering upon the door, and a moment later, Bugs re-enters the house, displaying to Elmer a sign that has just been posted on the door (of course by Bugs) – “Quarantined for rabbititus. No one may leave premises.”

Bugs tries to convince Elmer that maybe the reports are wrong. Perhaps he isn’t contaminated. But you won’t find Elmer fast believing such an idea, when Bugs displays his tongue, dressed in a miniature coat, and then begins performing fits, contorting his person to resemble among other things, a turbaned swami, and Frankenstein’s monster. Bugs claims he’s full of pep and never felt better, so grabs Elmer’s hand to drag him into a session of jitterbug dancing. Elmer yanks his hand away, now believing Bugs has contaminated him. Elmer races for the shower, going through all the motions of trying to wash the evil germs off – but finds Bugs standing-in for a missing shower pipe. “Gurgle gurgle. Why don’t you pay your water bill, doc?” Elmer darts for the door, quarantine or no quarantine, but finds an unexpected visitor on the porch. Dressed in a hat and coat, dark glasses, and a white beard, Bugs appears again, as Dr, Kilpatient from the Department of Health. He asks to see the contaminated rabbit, whom Elmer says is “wight awound here somewhere.” Bugs disappears to the next room, and makes several noises as if conducting an examination. After a few moments, he calls Fudd into the room. The entire room abounds in three colors of spots, appearing everywhere. Bugs kicks three paint cans and brushes behind a chair to keep them out of view. Elmer wails at seeing spots before his eyes. “First symptom of rabbititus”, says Bugs, who begins to test Elmer for other symptoms. “What’s two times two”, asks Bugs. When Elmer answers a number of math problems correctly, Bugs observes, “Aha, multiplying” – a well-known rabbit characteristic. “You’re even beginning to look like a rabbit”, Bugs insists. Elmer thinks this ridiculous, until Bugs removes the reflective glass from a mirror frame, and tells Elmer to take a look. Bugs and Elmer perform the Marx Brothers’ fake reflection routine, Bugs in the mirror frame mimicking Elmer’s every move. Even when Elmer hops past the frame’s edge, Bugs is still there to match him. Elmer panics, “I’m a wabbit”. Dressed as Kilpatient again, Bugs performs a reflex check, tapping Elmer’s knees repeatedly with a hammer. Elmer breaks into an involuntary Russian dance, which Bugs joins, wearing a Cossack hat and snow boots. “You’re not a doctor. You’re that scwewy wabbit”, shouts Elmer, finally wise. He grabs a rifle, and darts out the door after Bugs, shots whizzing through the air. But Bugs has one final diversionary tactic. He halts Elmer in his tracks, then points directly at the crowd out there in the theater. That lady with the long ears, getting longer all the time. That guy in the seventeenth row with the cute tomato – he’s getting all fuzzy. “Everybody out there’s got rabbititus!” Elmer can stand it no longer, and races back to his house, sealing himself in. “That was just a gag, of course”, Bugs states to calm the audience. “You folks haven’t got rabbititus. Why if you had rabbititus, you’d see red and yellow spots before your eyes.” As he speaks, numerous such spots dissolve into view all across the screen. “And they’d start swirling and swirling around.” They do. “And suddenly, everything would go black.” The shot fades to black entirely – and we here the snickering laugh of Bugs on the soundtrack. Like Avery’s Junior pig, Bugs has just heckled the audience. In its first appearance, Bugs makes a surprise pop-out from the Looney Tunes drum, and announces to close a point, “And that’s the end.”

Book Revue (Warner, Daffy Duck 1/5/46 – Robert Clampett, dir.) – Bob Clampett’s latest update on the old “store comes to life at midnight” cartoons of the ‘30’s. In a book shop, an inebriated cuckoo bird, in top hat and carrying a flask of some potent potable, announces the hour. As Harry James provides musical accompaniment from the book, “Rounf Man With a Horn”, residents of bookland gather around a book cover to watch a lovely Indian princess perform the “Cherokee Strip.” The Whistler wolf-whistles. Henry the VII gets rambunctious, until called home by the mother of The Aldrich Family for some spanking discipline. But then it’s the girls’ turn for excitement, as Frank Sinatra (assisted in a wheelchair by a hospital attendant) appears as “The Voice in the Wilderness. Everyone female swoons, including Little Women, the Lady in the Dark, Whistler’s mother, and even Mother Goose. The bandleaders assemble, including Gene Krupa (beating the “Drums Along the Mohawk”), Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman (as the Pie-Eyed Piper), and even Bob Burns playing his homemade Bazooka. (An amazing aspect of this cartoon is why so many human characters appear with green complexions!)

Enter Daffy Duck, well aware of his own roots, as he just happens to be present on the cover of a Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies comic book. He decides to quiet down the general din by upstaging same with his own act. Leaping off his comic-book cover, he proceeds to the Saratoga Trunk for a costume change. Donning an oversized purple zoot suit and a wig with a blonde pompadour (the color the portrayed star was demanded to dye his hair to for his first picture, “Up In Arms”), Daffy appears in a thinly-disguised caricature of Danny Kaye, beginning a mock Russian-accented performance before a book cover entitled “Danny Boy”. A manic version of “La Cucaracha” segues into a Russian-accent version of “Carolina in the Morning”. Hardly noticed by Daffy is the entrance of Little Red Riding Hood from her book, on her way to Grandma’s house. The wolf is there, ready and waiting, but Daffy is the first to encounter him. Never missing a beat of his song, Daffy continues to sing, while stretching his torso like elastic to stay one step ahead of the wolf. Red passes him, going the other way, and Daffy is motivated to heroically issue her a warning.

Streaking like a comet back to Grandma’s door, Daffy breaks into a trademark Danny Kaye scat jive, uttering strings of nonsense syllables with a few key real words mixed in such as “better to see you with”. Daffy begins imitating what will happen if Red enters the cottage, actually gnawing on Red’s leg. But the wolf has lost interest in Red, and is salting Daffy’s leg to perform the same act upon him. One look at these two ravenous characters, and Red screams, exiting stage left. Daffy turns to see the wolf about to chow down upon his extended limb, and his entire body converts into one staring eyeball (what “Tiny Toon Adventures” would later refer to as the “Clampett Corneal”). Chasing ensues, through the territory of Hopalong Cassidy, in and out of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and hiding in the Petrified Forest. An officer on the cover of the Police Gazette calls out a squad car and The Long Arm of The Law, placing the wolf before the bench of Judge magazine. The presiding judge issues his verdict in song, set to the tune of the Sextet from the opera, “Lucia Di Lammermoor”: “You are guilty, and the sentence is…” (You guessed it) “…LIFE!”, as in the magazine. In typical Rod Scribner animated overacting, the Wolf pleads “No!”, and the Judge insists “Yes!” As the Wolf is thrown into a jail cell depicted on the cover of the magazine, he concludes the aria with the couplet, “You can’t do this to me! I’m a citizen, see!” He of course immediately escapes, but is tripped up by Jimmy Durante’s nose from the book “So Big”, slides down “Skid Row”, and spots the flames of a copy of “Danye’s Inferno” below. The wolf attempts to escape back up the slippery slope of Skid Row, but loses his will to resist when Frank Sinatra appears again, swooning him backwards into the fire pit. Daffy, Red, and other members of bookland whoop it up in celebration, dancing the night away, until the wolf pops his head our of the flames to complain, “Stop that dancing up there…”, and concludes in Joe Besser underplay, “…you sillies.”

Watch BOOK REVUE over HERE.

All the Cats Join In (from the feature, Make Mine Music) (Disney/RKO. 4/20/46, Jack Kinney, dir.) – This musical vehicle for Benny Goodman and his orchestra attempts to present animation from its source – the artist’s pencil. Not even with the formality of an animator’s desk and peg-perforated paper, bit from an artist’s sketch pad – perhaps suggesting the artist works in the storyboard department. Its subject is a typical night among swing-crazed teens in the local juke joint or malt shop. It begins with notations on the pad that this story “concerns a…” followed by an illustration of a jukebox, “…and a…”. followed by an outline drawing of a feline cat – which is quickly erased and replaced by the type of “cat” we dig – a hep teenage boy. Spotting the title tune on the jukebox, the boy also spies a pay phone booth (remember those?) being drawn in by the artist. The boy searches his pockets, but can find no nickel to call his girlfriend. The artist draws him a shining one, and the boy places a call. The artist can barely keep up, flipping pages of the sketch pad to draw in a phone line across telephone poles to reach the girl’s house. The artist keeps busy, drawing in the teenage maid in an easy chair, while her junior sister plays with a doll. The phone finally rings, and the maid rushes to outrace her little sister to answer the call. The boy puts the phone receiver close to the juke box so the music can be heard. “Boy”, shouts the girl (in Dinah Shore’s voice), and quickly hits the shower to freshen up. Some nude/semi-nude moments have been trimmed digitally over the years to remove some suggestive curvature, probably contributed by Fred Moore. The artist draws in a towel to dry upon, and clothes suspended in mud air for the maid to leap into as she removes the towel. The little sister tries to dress up in big Sis’s clothing to go out too, and follows Sis down stairs drawn by the pencil on a banister also drawn in for her to slide upon, but gets left behind as the front door is slammed in her face – a sure sign little sister is unwelcome at the evening’s events.

Outside, the hot rod jalopy of the boy waits at the curb, still being penciled-in by the artist. The girl leaps in, and zoom – the car zips away before the artist can sketch in the last lines. The artist’s pencil has to speed away too, past the unfinished jalopy, to draw in a traffic stop signal, stopping the car long enough to draw in its back wheels. Various friends and girlfriends are added by the pencil, until the jalopy is filled, one passenger riding atop the radiator (shall we call that the hot seat?) They speed across backgrounds with the pencil barely able to provide the lines of the road – but progress at a prudent, upright and slow pace across one intersection patrolled by a motorcycle cop. All arrive at the malt shop, where the jalopy hits the curb, tossing all passengers through the front door and into the action. The pencil keeps busy drawing in stools at the soda fountain, but failing to draw in the last one in time for one of the patrons, who lands with a thud on the floor. Everyone chows down on sandwiches and banana splits, and the dancing commences. A date is drawn in for one stray boy, but he yawns in lack of interest when he sees the big posterior the artist has drawn upon the girl. The girl angrily looks up in the direction of the artist, then at her overgrown rear-end. The artist makes with the eraser, instantly giving her about a thirty-pound weight-loss reduction. Now the boy is interested, and the girl pleased. One boy isn’t with the times, in a striped suit and strumming a Charleston tune on ukulele. He us unceremoniously tossed out on his ear – make that rear. The dancing goes on and on, until the final scene where the jukebox explodes from internal energy, scattering disc records like flying saucers across the screen, for the fade out.

Hair-Raising Hare (Warner, Bugs Bunny. 5/25/46 – Charles M. (Chuck) Jones, dir.) – Bugs just can’t sleep. He has the strangest feeling he is being watched, and peers around from his rabbit hole into the darkness of the forest, looking for unknown eyes with a candlestick. The eyes, however, are nowhere to be found – as they are viewing remotely, upon an experimental television monitor hookup, from the stone walls of a mad-scientist’s castle. The scientist is none other than Peter Lorre, and the reason for his unusual television viewing is a need to serve dinner to his latest creation – a huge red hairball of a monster with long claw-like fingers and wearing tennis shoes – whom Warner fans would ultimately come to know as Gossamer (first-named in “Duck Dodgers and the Return of the 24th 1/2 Century”). To obtain wild game, Lorre has invented a full-size, life-like female rabbit robot dressed in evening attire. Winding her up, he sets the robot off into the woods. Just as Bugs is about to dismiss his premonition as mere imagination, the robot struts by, showing off her stuff in come-on fashion (while the soundtrack plays a rendition of “Oh, You Beautiful Doll” punctuated with mechanical clanks for percussion). Bugs disappears into his hole – then suddenly reappears, spellbound by what he has just seen. Assuming a walk step that mimics the rigid moves of the robot, Bugs follows her back to the castle as if drawn by a magnet. The second he walks into the castle’s open door, Lorre leaps to bar, chain, and padlock the entrance. Bugs addresses him to comment, “Ya don’t need to lock that door, Mac. I don’t wanna leave!”

As the robot comes to a standing halt, its intended service performed, Bugs takes hold of one of its hands, addresses it as “Baby…”, and begins to kiss her hand vigorously. The robot’s head suddenly begins to whirl, and within a few seconds, every spring within her has unwound, and she lays in a heap of disassembled parts. Bugs, still holding one detached robot arm, lets it fall to the floor, then expresses his reaction to the audience: “That’s the trouble with some dames. Kiss ‘em, and they fly apart.” The story progresses as Lorre introduces Bugs to “another friend”. “Yeah, yeah, yeah”, says Bugs eagerly, expecting another girl. But rumbles from Gossamer’s doorway lead Bugs to think otherwise. “Well, goodbye”, says Bugs, walking to a dresser and packing a traveling suitcase with clothes as if they were his own. When the suitcase is fully loaded, Bugs again addresses Lorre. “And don’t think it hasn’t been a little slice of heaven…’cause it hasn’t.”

Bugs darts for the bolted front door, struggling with its locks. Lorre lets loose Gossamer. Bugs’s first reaction, when finding the monster peering over his shoulder, is to ask “You look like a strong healthy boy. Gimme a hand.” Then reality seeps into Bugs’s skull. Bugs becomes speechless, his face reacting in nervous tics and twitches, and is only able to communicate with the audience by holding up a sign, the first side of which contains the word “Yipe” in small letters, and the reverse of which magnifies the letters to the entire dimensions of the sign. Bugs darts away to hide behind a heavy door, and attempts to brace it against Gossamer’s entry. Still seeking assistance, Bugs calls out into the audience. “Is there a doctor in the house?” “I’m a physician”, responds the silhouette of a man rising from one of the theater rows. Bugs has asked his question only for the purpose of finding an excuse to slip his trademark catch-phrase into the dialogue, and breaks out of his own fear mode to calmly ask, “Eh, what’s up, doc?” The doctor rather abruptly takes his seat, realizing he is no longer needed.

After numerous chase gags and horror vignettes, some rather silly (for example, Bugs climbs a staircase leading into an unlit tower, then returns to warn Gossamer, “Don’t go up there. It’s dark”), Bugs frightens away Gossamer, by giving him the same sense of “being watched” that Bugs experienced – pointing out the strange eyes watching both of them from the darkness outside the screen. “PEOPLE!” shrieks Gossamer, screaming in terror, and charging away through about ten different walls of the castle, leaving only his silhouette. Bugs attempts to wrap things up for the viewers by reciting narration and stage direction, “And so, having re-re-disposed of the monster, exit out her-o…..” His voice trails off, as the reassembled rabbit robot passes by again. Bugs attempts to ignore it, dismissing it as “Mechanical” – until the robot breaks its own behavioral rules, and plants a kiss on Bugs’ cheek. “Well, so it’s mechanical!”, shouts Bugs, re-assuming his mechanical-man walk, to follow the robot wherever she may lead, for the iris out.

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NEXT TIME: Later events from ‘46 and ‘47.