Friday, 22 June 2018

Goosophone

Musical notes from a saxophone turn into geese (that sound like ducks) in Pencil Mania, a fun 1932 Tom and Jerry cartoon from the Van Beuren studio.



Then Jerry sets down the saxophone and it turns into a happy dancing goose.



Finally the goose honks at Tom and ends its cartoon life.



John Foster and George Stallings are credited with overseeing the cartoon, with Gene Rodemich adding “I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover,” “Yes! We Have No Bananas,” “Rag Doll,” “You’ve Got Me in the Palm of Your Hand” and “Play That Hot Guitar” on the sound track. I don’t know what the music is when Jerry is creating geese from notes, but Rodemich picked some good mood tunes.

Thursday, 21 June 2018

A Twist on a Bugs Bunny Gag

Mike Maltese tossed a great baking gag into Rabbit Hood (1949), where Bugs goes to the time and trouble of quickly baking a cake just so the Sheriff of Nottingham can fall into it.

He pulled a twist on the gag when he went over to Walter Lantz to write. In Real Gone Woody (1954), Woody Woodpecker goes to all the trouble of moulding, baking and painting a vase just so he can throw it at Buzz Buzzard.



Maltese fills the story with other great material, including parodies of Johnny Ray and Guy Lombardo, and a good ending. The cartoon was directed by Paul J. Smith and may be his finest. Gil Turner, La Verne Harding and Bob Bentley are the credited animators.

Wednesday, 20 June 2018

The Toughest Job in the Woild? A Comedian

Milton Berle. Ed Wynn. Abbott and Costello. Ken Murray. Jack Carson. They all had early success on television. And they were all gone after a handful of seasons.

TV audiences proved more fickle than those of network radio—albeit they were the same people. Perhaps it was a case of viewers got tired of seeing the same thing over again, week after week. Jack Benny and Red Skelton seemed to be exceptions.

Jimmy Durante suffered the same problem. He was one of the rotating hosts of Four Star Revue starting in 1950, then got his own variety show in 1954 that was finally cancelled two years later. But that wasn’t the end of Durante, of course. He travelled the route of other comedians and singers—along the I-15 to Las Vegas—and filled TV time with guest appearances and occasional specials.

Durante was quizzed about the conundrum of comedians who had been popular for years suddenly being punted off television. He talked about it to Hearst’s International News Service in a feature story that appeared in newspapers on June 18, 1957. How could TV do without a Cantor or a Berle? The same way radio did when Joe Penner and Al Pearce faded away. New talent came along. And it always will. But it won’t be the same. After all, there was only one Durante and there’ll never be another.

Unfortunately, this is an edited version of the story. Due to OCR errors, I can’t make out the full text on a lengthy version I found that mentions Durante relaxing at the Del Mar track and refusing to work when he’s watching the ponies.

TV Discard Of Comics A Favor, Says Durante
By Charles Denton

HOLLYWOOD ( INS ) – Jimmy Durante, who dislikes making a point of his long tenure as a “top banana,” believes television is doing his colleagues a favor by discarding them in bunches this season.
A year or two out of sight of the great glass eye, Durante contends is just what the doctor ordered for comics whose nerves have been rasped raw by the file of falling ratings.
Those with genuine, tested talent have nothing to fidget about, the Schnoz insists.
Durante, about to begin his second season without a TV show to call his own, was the picture of an unruffled vacationeer from video as he tucked his wiry frame into the corner of a leather couch in his den, lilted stocking feet to a chair and put the torch to a cigar.
"How can they ever do without laughs?” he demanded with a snort. “How can they ever do without a Gleason, a Berle, a Cantor? They’ll never be off for long. "What is it? You think talent that just come up in a month is gonna beat talent it's took 20 years to develop? That's like throwin' a Steinway out the window and takin' a piano some guy just made outta chicory wood."
Durante's snort grew even more disdainful at the widespread notion that the comic has had his day in the TV sun and the medium is now entering a "singers' era."
"Ahhh," he said meaningfully. "A guy writes a song and another guy goes out and sings it. What is that? It means the guy has a God-given voice, that's all. "A comedian has the toughest job in the world—THE TOUGHEST—and they never get no academy awards neither.
"In pictures the comic has the position the piano player had when I started in the business—a bum! But when they want somebody to emcee their awards, who do they look for? They want a Jerry Lewis or somebody like that."
Durante's present position in television is unique. Although still under contract to NBC, he made only one guest appearance last season and frankly admits that "I didn't want to do any. I wanted to be off a year, after six years.”
He would have undertaken another regular weekly show next season if he had been offered the right format—"just music and entertainment. What we tried to do before. Where can you get music and a couple of laughs?"
And if he could have done the shows "on fillum."
"Change? What do you change to?" he said almost wistfully. "There's only one thing to do. Either go dramatic or stay the way you are."
Like most veterans. Durante is sold on filmed shows because they can be shown dozens of times, each time bringing the performers welcome "residual."
But for the most part, Durante’s antics for the rest of the year will be confined to nightclubs, where he first began building himself into a show business legend an undetermined number of years ago.
Some say this is Jimmy's 50th year in show business. Others say he's been around much longer. Jimmy says he started in 1912 "but what the hell, who goes by anniversaries?"
Whatever his years, Durante is a long, long walk from the wheelchair. He returned only recently from a five-month nightclub tour.
Night club performing, a killer to most TV and movie-raised young performers, is caviar and champagne to Durante.
"After the first night, what's tough about it?" he scoffs. "So you don't finish up 'til two in the morning, you don't go to bed at home 'til then, do you?"
Bedtime is more often 3 or 4 a.m., a habit formed by decades of pounding pianos and cracking gags in smoky bistros. This is what might be called "clean dissipation," since Jimmy does not drink and compensates for the late hours he keeps by sleeping away most of the morning. When he does shake himself out of the feathers, however, he literally vibrates with activity.
"I'm a very busy man, very busy," he sighed. "And not a nickel coming in. That phone rings all day, and at the end of the day I look in the book and I ain't got a dollar more."

Tuesday, 19 June 2018

Following the Rabbit

Bullets (or are they buckshot?) take on a life of their own in All This And Rabbit Stew (1941), following their target—Bugs Bunny.



They pass over Bugs’ hole, realise their mistake, pull the brake lever, and then point in the right direction.



They follow Bugs as he jumps from hole to hole.



Oops! Bugs jumps into a golf hole instead. The rabbit helpfully marks it.



The bullets figure it out and proceed onward.



Oops! Now the bullets zoom into the wrong hole and zip out of the cartoon. We discover why. It’s the second skunk gag of the cartoon.



Virgil Ross gets the animation credit and Dave Monahan the story credit.

Monday, 18 June 2018

Doghouse Battle

Solid Serenade’s highlight is Tom singing “Is You Is or Is You Ain’t My Baby?” but there are other things to enjoy in this 1946 MGM cartoon. (We outlined some in this post).

At the end, Tom and a bulldog get into a fight inside a doghouse. The audience can’t see most of the fight, but parts of it are revealed when the doghouse comes apart. Some nice expressions by Tom here. All of this is by Pete Burness, who isn’t credited on the version of the cartoon in circulation now.



And the doghouse is as animated as anything else during the fight.



Mike Lah, Ken Muse and Ed Barge are the credited animators, though Ray Patterson handled some scenes as well.

Sunday, 17 June 2018

It's Not Dean Martin

I wonder if Jack Benny thought, as he was taking a limo to Palmer House in Chicago to perform in 1969, that when he was born in that city, there were no limos—at least ones that were powered on their own. However, the Palmer House was there in 1894, and still is today.

Here’s a little story from December 4, 1969, describing the cute and funny entrance Jack used in his show there. It’s a little sad reading about him being left alone before he went on stage. But Jack enjoyed making people laugh, and that’s why he continued performing across the continent until pancreatic cancer stopped him not too many weeks before his death; he certainly was in no need of money.

Benny's Like Liquor, Gets Better With Age
By BOB GREENE

Chicago Daily News Service
CHICAGO—The people in the Empire Room, their clothes bright and glittering, were dancing while the man sang "You're Nobody Till Somebody Loves You." The room was all gold and green and white, and on every spotless table was a little white card. On each card was the famous face of Jack Benny.
Jack Benny is the reason that all the people had dressed so expensively and fought the traffic and paid so much money to be crowded into the Empire Room of the Palmer House.
They were waiting for him to come on stage and tell jokes to them. While they waited, Jack Benny sat, all alone, in front of a rollaway cart in his 19th-floor suite.
A VISITOR walked into the room and there was Benny—this old comedian who has had it all and is a part of everyone's memories—sitting in a blue bathrobe, eating dinner alone at the little cart.
He is 75 years old and he does not look young any more, but still he takes six months from every year to go on the road and make people laugh. His wife, Mary Livingston, does not like to travel, so he goes with his writer, Hilliard Marks, and his manager, Irving Fein. Tonight both of them were out of the hotel, so he finished the meal by himself before getting dressed and shaving and having his face made up to go on stage.
"It keeps getting easier," Benny said. "Every year the audiences are easier. I don't get a bad audience any more. It's not so much of a challenge. So I make my own challenge. I keep making myself do different kinds of things.
The lights in the Empire Room went down. Everyone was looking toward the stage.
The announcer said: "And now . . . the star of our show, Dean Martin!", and in walked Benny, right through the main entrance, holding a drink in his hand.
"I'm not really Dean Martin," he said. And then he gave The Look. Just folded his arms and looked around the room. The people were almost screaming. He didn't have to say a thing.
"HERE," I have to get rid of this drink," he said. He walked over to a man at a nearby table. "Do you want it?" the man took the drink.
"That'll be a dollar," Benny said. The laughter again.
It was like that for more than an hour. He talked about all the familiar things—George Burns, money, his wife, Bob Hope. And what he said earlier was right. The crowd wasn't even a real challenge. They were happy just to be seeing Jack Benny.

Saturday, 16 June 2018

A Few Words From Bob Clampett

Bob Clampett was an enthusiastic ambassador for the great Warner Bros. cartoons. He travelled hither and thither, showing prints of the shorts and telling funny stories about the studio. He died in Detroit on one of his road trips.

He was also an enthusiastic ambassador for Bob Clampett.

Until animation historians came along and started doing forensic investigations into the who-what-when of the old cartoons, anyone could make any claims they wanted about them without fear of contradiction. After all, they were there. They should know.

Actually, Clampett knew a great deal about the history behind the cartoons. He loved them. But, for a while anyway, he puffed up his own involvement to levels that, with the knowledge we have today, seem as outlandish as a Bugs Bunny take by Rod Scribner. He created Fritz the Cat? What?!?! Has someone told Robert Crumb? And Yosemite Sam? Mike Maltese and Friz Freleng might have something to say about that.

From what I understand, Clampett dialed back some of his claims in later years and was extremely helpful to anyone who wanted to fill in the blanks about Warner Bros. cartoon history. I only spoke to him once on the phone and he treated me like an old friend (his death, unfortunately, got in the way of our planned interview).

Here’s Clampett speaking to the University of Illinois newspaper in a story published on February 7, 1975. In it, the oddest claim is he chewed Mel Blanc’s carrots. Mel was known for his own stretching of the truth (he was not allergic to carrots, as he claimed for years), but he never mentioned anything about Clampett’s proxy munching.

What’s up, Doc ?
Cartoon creator Bob Clampett discusses animation of his characters

by Sher Watts
staff writer
The man who fashioned Tweety Bird after his own baby picture said he feels toward cartoons the same way parents feel toward their kids.
Bob Clampett, the creator of such cartoon greats as Bugs Bunny, Sylvester, Yosemite Sam, Porky Pig, Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd, Beany and Cecil and Fritz the Cat, said he got ideas for his cartoons and cartoon characters from the “screwball comedies” of the ‘30s and ‘40s.
Speaking on “The History of Animation in the United States,” to an audience of over 200 Wednesday night at the Illinii Union, Clampett said, “I tried to fashion my characters after people who looked normal, but did crazy things. Bugs, for example, looked like a normal rabbit, but he was always acting crazy.”
Clampett specialized in crazy characters, from his famous ones to those he created in his beginning days at Warner Brothers. “Leon Schlesinger (who used to produce Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies for Warner Brothers) let us do what we wanted when it came to ideas and characters,” Clampett said. “Now, networks tell cartoonists what they want for characters. ‘Hot rods are big now—let’s have a series on hot rods,’ the networks tell their cartoonists. They don’t have a chance to think up new characters.”
Clampett said modern cartoon characters are nothing but “walkie-talkies. They walk and they talk—they have no personality.” Modern animation is a prostitution of a wonderful medium, according to Clampett, and has set [the] cartoon back 40 years.
He fashioned many of his cartoon figures after ideas from movies and radio. “I used a lot of radio voices because they were so distinctive,” he said.
Many old Warner Brothers stars became characters in Clampett’s cartoons. “We were like one big, happy family then,” he said. “The stars would come in and stick their heads in the window to say hello, and we would draw characterizations of them. Then, they’d be developed into a cartoon character.
The old movie influence is obvious in many of the characters. Bugs Bunny has some similarities to Groucho Marx. In one of the early Bugs cartoons, called “Porky’s Hare Hunt ,” the rabbit did a phoney dying act and used the Groucho Marx line, “Of course, you know this means war.”
Bugs, who became the number one box office attraction in the cartoon world, had other Groucho characteristics. The famous carrot-munching was similar to Groucho’s cigar-chewing, and Bugs asides to the audience were taken straight from Groucho, Clampett said.
Using an old movie star influence in cartoon characterization sometimes created problems, however, Clampett said. After he made cartoon characters out of the Marx Brothers, the brothers threatened to sue, saying that no one would want to see them live if a person could see them in animation.
Clampett had plenty of stories to tell about old days at Warner Brothers. Mel Blanc, who did voices for many characters, was allergic to carrots. As a result, Clampett and Blanc would stand by a microphone during taping, and Clampett would chew a carrot while Blanc would give the famous line, “What’s up, Doc?” After the chomping sound effect was no longer needed, Clampett would spit out the half-chewed carrot into a tub next to the microphone.
“After a day of taping, we’d have plenty of messy carrots in that tub,” Clampett recalled.
Clampett has worked with many cartoon greats. Throughout his years at Warner Brothers and now in his own studio, Clampett worked with Walt and Roy Disney, Tex Avery, Walter Lanz [sic] and many others.
Clampett said he aimed for a wide theater audience when thinking up ideas. The theatre audiences were mostly adults. The cartoons started for children, and were rather la-de-da, but got more sophisticated as time went on, he said.
No subject seemed taboo for Clampett. But he had trouble getting past the censors many times, he said. When Tweety was first drawn, he was pink and bare. “After the censors saw the first few films, they said, ‘That bird looks naked!’ So I had to add some yellow feathers,” Clampett said.
Clampett also got his inspirations from other sources. He made cartoons out of political figures, such as President Harry Truman or Sen. Joseph McCarthy. He also made a cartoon called “Porky in Wackyland” which used art ideas from Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso.
Clampett also had his years as a puppet man. Before “Beany and Cecil” became an animated television show, it ran as a puppet show for many years. Clampett admitted that Cecil the Seasick Sea Serpent was the favorite of all his creations. He made the puppet when he was young, he said, and carries it to talks he gives in its own carrying case.
“Beany and Cecil” ran for seven years on television, and won three Emmy awards for the best children’s show.
Although Clampett is not doing any animation for modern television shows, he makes animated commercials for businesses such as Ford Motor Co. and Maybelline, and is now developing some cartoon specials.
Clampett said he sees a definite future in the area of animation, especially in the area of Synthavision. Synthavision is a computer animation process in which computer programs produce animation without human drawings.
Clampett encouraged young talent to join the cartoon field. He said the average age of animators is 50, and many companies are looking for new students for animation.

Friday, 15 June 2018

Here Comes Mickey

Escaped con Mickey Mouse runs at the camera, followed by a bloodhound in The Chain Gang (1930).



Here’s Mickey heading toward the theatre audience again.



This kind of effect was pretty common in the early Disney cartoons. It’s about as 3D as you can get without being 3D and is probably still pretty good looking on a big theatre screen.