Saturday, 10 October 2026

Tweety and Tweetie

The Warner Bros. cartoon studio never won an Oscar until 1947—thanks, Walt Disney and Fred Quimby—when Friz Freleng directed Tweetie Pie.

There are so many routines in this cartoon that were used again and again. Sylvester tie-toes back and forth in the background to set up his scene (dropping a piece of something on his way). A halo of innocence pops above his head. Building a stack of odds and ends he can climb to reach the bird. He prays as disaster is about to befall him. He waves at the camera before gravity takes its evitable hold and he falls out of the scene.

In this short, there’s also a Rube Goldberg-type contraption, reminiscent of something Wile E. Coyote would create. It’s not a surprise since Mike Maltese co-wrote the story with Tedd Pierce. The frames tell the story of how strings pull on this or open that, though you have to watch the cartoon to see Friz’ excellent timing. Layouts are by Hawley Pratt.



Manny Perez provides the new animation. I say “new” because the footage with the iron, ironing board, steaming tea kettle and the fridge all come from Trap Happy Porky (Chuck Jones, 1945, written by Pierce). Mel Blanc supplies Tweety's voice. Sylvester is silent and is called “Thomas” by his owner (Bea Benaderet). “Sylvester” was a character played by Blanc on The Judy Canova Show on radio, with the same voice he eventually gave to the cat. Devon Baxter has sent word that Keith Scott's hunt through Warners files shows the dialogue was recorded January 1947.

George Delmerico interviewed Freleng on Oct. 29, 1989 about this cartoon.


GEORGE: To take one of the best examples that you’re associated with, Tweety and Sylvester. But Clampett started Tweety off in one direction. Was that film “Tweetie Pie” (1947) sort of underway, roughly, when he left?
FRIZ: Well, that’s the story. I know that he was making one, or was in a process of doing, and he left, and I was doing a thing with a woodpecker.
GEORGE: I remember “Peck Up Your Troubles” (1946)...
FRIZ: Yeah. I did a woodpecker. And I didn’t like the character of the woodpecker: he was just a “nothing” character. And when I wanted to do the next one with the woodpecker, about the time Clampett left, well, I said “Since Clampett’s gone, I think I’ll put Tweety in there.” I told Ed Selzer, who was the boss at the time, I said, “I’m gonna put Tweety, who was in Clampett’s pictures, in with Sylvester.”


What happened next is recorded in some interview with Freleng I’ve seen transcribed. You think I can find it? Grrr. Anyway, Jerry Beck and Will Friedwald, in their book Warner Bros. Animation Art (1997), pick up the story.

During production of this short, producer Edward Selzer orders Freleng to use a woodpecker from an earlier film instead of a canary; Freleng hands Selzer his pencil and quits. That night, Freleng is called at home and rehired by a conciliatory Selzer. When the short wins Warner Bros. Animation's first Academy Award the following March, Selzer accepts the statuette.

The Los Angeles Times reported March 22, 1948, in an unbylined story:

There was a quiet party at the home of Edward Selzer, whose “Tweetie Pie” won an Oscar as the best cartoon. "I'm afraid,” Selzer said, “that my family was more excited about it than I was. No I don’t have the Oscar here now. I let Fritz Freleng [sic], the director, take it home to show his daughter.

Selzer, of all people, actually (are you sitting down for this?) got laughs during the ceremony. Lloyd Sloan of the Hollywood Citizen-News recorded for posterity:

This year, the Awards committee tried a new system in making the presentations. The major Oscars were not all presented at the end, and the “best actor” award was made early in the evening. Even that, unfortunately, failed to lift the lesser presentations from their rather lifeless routine category.
The fact was ably brought home by Edward Selzer, who paused at the microphone, after receiving his “best cartoon” statuette from Shirley Temple, and said: “I’ll take a minute, because cartoons have saved many a show before.” It was the remark that broke the tension, and it brought down the house.


The version of the cartoon on home video is a Blue Ribbon, shorn of opening titles when re-issued on June 25, 1955 (it was originally released on May 3, 1947). The marvellous David Gerstein (who I wish blogged more) located a black-and-white print in a private collection in 2011 and we have screen grabs of the original credits thanks to him.



I don’t want to plough old ground (aka trivia) you’re likely familiar with. You know the character was originally based on Bob Clampett’s baby picture, and named Orson on the model sheet (by Rod Scribner?) for A Tale of Two Kitties (1942), though Tom McKimson’s later sheet for Clampett calls him "Tweety."

Freleng’s next Tweety picture was I Taw a Putty Tat, released April 2, 1948. When it was put into production, I don’t know, but somewhere along the way the spelling of the bird’s name changed back.



Tweety proved to be a long and durable character, even co-starring in a TV show starting in 1995. Friz was right to give that woodpecker the heave-ho.

Friday, 9 October 2026

Blackboard Revue

Stick figures dancing on a blackboard are one of the highlights of Teacher’s Pests, a 1932 Water Lantz cartoon. Among the crew was Tex Avery.

Avery included stick figures in Porky’s Preview (1941), but another cartoon was based around them a year earlier.

Blackboard Revue was produced by Ub Iwerks for release by Columbia in 1940. The story itself is an old chestnut. Inanimate characters come to life at night, sing and dance, then when dawn breaks, they rush to become inanimate again.

The school teacher in the cartoon is an imitation of Tizzy Lish, who was a female impersonator on the Al Pearce radio show.



Some of the "students." And a dopey student.



A late student comes in and tells the teacher a tale of being stopped by Indians. Teacher: "Indians?! Were they Blackfeet?" Student: "How should I know? They were wearing shoes."



He jumped into an eagle's next, then tangled with the eagle.



He landed in front of a cave, and out stepped an enormous black bear. Teacher: "A cinammon bear?" Student: "How should I know what flavour?" (The Cinammon Bear was a kids radio show).



The student escapes from the bear by hoisting himself using the chalk numbers and letters on the blackboard.



The teacher believes none of it, and asks what he expects to be when he grows up. Now the cartoon switches gears and the student launches into a song, with the Rhythmettes singing behind Blanc. He wants to be an engineer. A girl student wants to be a movie star. Caricaturist Ben Shenkman gives us another approximation of Clark Gable. A hand-on-hip nancy boy wants to be a fireman.



"Well, shut my mouth!" This chalk drawing taps just like Bojangles Robinson.



The dullard student wants to lead a band. Everybody dances!



A bird on a tree outside sounds reveille. The drawings rush back to where they came from. The camera pulls away from the blackboard and the scene dissolves to outside the schoolhouse, which is how things started.

Ub Iwerks is the only artist credited, with both Eddie Kilfeather (music) and Joe De Nat (musical direction) getting credits. Among the staff at Cartoon Films in 1940 were Ed Benedict, Tom McKimson and Paul Fennell.

Thursday, 8 October 2026

Porky Burns Up

Daffy Duck continually outsmarts Porky Pig in My Favorite Duck, a 1942 cartoon from the Chuck Jones unit.

At one point, Daffy tricks camper Porky into blowing up his tent, lawn chair and even trees into the sky. After a bit of time, the law of gravity enforces itself and Porky falls to the ground.

Porky is all burned up about it. Literally. After spontaneous combustion, the smoke and ashes remaining re-form into the pig.



This is an excellent cartoon, with interesting layouts by John McGrew, attractive backgrounds by Gene Fleury (neither credited) and clever gags by Mike Maltese, including a fourth wall at the end. Rudy Larriva is the credited animator.

If I was given a choice between watching this cartoon and Jones’ and Maltese’s Robin Hood Daffy (1957), I know which one I’d pick.