L'il Ainjil (1936)

L'il Ainjil (Columbia/Screen Gems, 1936)
Dir.: Manny Gould and Ben Harrison
Cel Bloc Rating: 6/9

It is my guess that for many of you, L'il Ainjil is not a film you have ever run across before. Hell, I didn't see it until a couple of years ago, and I went into seeing it with great, built-in misgivings thanks to Leonard Maltin. 

L'il Ainjil was released in 1936 as part of Columbia's long-running Krazy Kat series, in which the Kat looked and acted nothing like the original version that George Herriman created and made famous in the comic strip of the same name starting in 1913. (It ran in Hearst newspapers until Herriman's death in 1944.) The silent films originally created in tandem with Hearst did have a Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse (two of the strip's three main characters, the third of whom is Offissa Bull Pupp) that looked pretty much as put down on paper. They did little that pertained to how they acted in the comics, but they at least looked pretty close. But none of the Southwestern flavor of the settings and backgrounds of the strip made it onto the big screen, and because they were silent films, none of the rich, poetic verbosity and little of the mangled language (they did use word balloons in the cartoons early on) made it either.

And the driving force of the Krazy Kat strip, the strange love triangle dynamic between Ignatz (who loved to throw bricks at Krazy's head but didn't like the Kat), Krazy (unidentifiable as either male or female, and who took Ignatz's missiles to be messages of pure love), and Offissa Pupp (who was in love with Krazy but hated Ignatz and went to extreme measures to stop the mouse from throwing bricks, even though Krazy had little but disdain for Pupp) never made it to the movie screen at that time at all.

Krazy kept making films, and the world hit the sound era, and things just... evolved. Over the years, Ignatz disappeared from the movies. The series was taken over by Columbia at some point, and soon enough, Krazy was just another adventure-seeking Mickey clone -- he got cuter and round, and even obtained a girlfriend -- and became engaged in rubbery antics with all manner of barnyard animals and anthropomorphic musical instruments and furniture. Though there are moments that still play well in the earlier shorts, as the series continued at Columbia through the early 1930s, they became increasingly rote (and sometimes well below that near the end). And, of course, nowhere near what Krazy Kat was in the comics, which in my opinion -- based on a combination of Herriman's dual talents at superior draftsmanship and fantastically written, original satire -- continues to serve as one of the finest pure examples of individual art ever created.

L'il Ainjil is almost, kind of... should'a-would'a-could'a... sort of almost the way it ought to have been done for years and years. The character we see in L'il Ainjil is almost -- and I only say "almost" with reservations, because L'il Ainjil is still fairly wide of the mark -- the real Krazy Kat.

Not that the people who made it think that way, and this where the misgivings I mentioned at the start of this article were built initially. Directed by Columbia veterans Manny Gould and Ben Harrison, who were hugely responsible for the steady descent of the series, L'il Ainjil was conceived as a desperate change of pace from what they had been doing in the series to that point. According to Leonard Maltin's usually indispensable tome on the art, Of Mice and Magic: A History of American Animated Cartoons (McGraw-Hill, 1980), animator I. (Isadore) Klein convinced producer Charles Mintz to let them try to make a Krazy Kat film using the actual characters and love triangle plot from Herriman's strip. This meant bringing back Ignatz Mouse (though I prefer when he is called Mice) and, for the first time on camera, Offissa Pupp. But Klein had to deal with the increasingly pedestrian style of his directors, and even though he loved the backgrounds that were created for the film, he ended up deeply disappointed in the final result. Klein's partial quote from Maltin's book was, "...but it was a senseless story, throwing bricks, and that was the end of it."

And here is where Maltin screwed me. He closes the subject on L'il Ainjil by saying bluntly, "The cartoon... is just as bad as Klein remembers it being." That's it. Of course, when I am told something is remarkably bad, I want to see it almost as much, and sometimes even more, than I would a greatly revered classic.  But, it would over thirty years after first buying Of Mice and Magic (I have first editions in both hardcover and paperback) before I would have a chance to see L'il Ainjil, though I would read through Maltin's overall, still quite excellent and informative book several times over those decades. And because I prefer to base my cinematic knowledge first in that which I have seen for myself, then supplementing it with secondary information gained from published sources, and finally coloring in what I have seen and learned with the ofttimes educated (but sometimes not) opinions of others about the subject, I had no other recourse but to watch L'il Ainjil with my own eyes to find out just what was so "bad" about it.

Nothing. There is nothing that is outright bad about L'il Ainjil. That there was a sense of disappointment regarding the film by the animator who led the charge in getting it made is understandable because L'il Ainjil is not a success by most means of measuring a film's quality. But in comparing it to the most immediate predecessor in the Krazy Kat series (that is available to see, that is) -- 1935's heavily racially stereotyped and dull Kannibal Kapers -- the intent behind making L'il Ainjil for the true Krazy Kat fan of that era not only comes off as bold but also somewhat noble.

At the outset of L'il Ainjil, following the title card, we meet Offissa Bull Pupp and Mrs. Kwakk Wakk as they walk towards the camera in a forced perspective as the road rolls away underneath their feet. They are rushing hurriedly forward, with Offissa Pupp swinging his truncheon wildly above his head. 

Offissa Pupp (in Billy Costello's instantly recognizable voice) sings along in an operetta style:**

"I am all the law and order,
___ ___ ___, ___ ___ ___
of the county known as Coconino!"

And then Mrs. Kwakk Wakk adds in:

"Nino!"

Pupp continues:

"There's one rascal ___ ___ ___ me,
Ignatz Mouse, and  ___ ___ me!"

And then Mrs. Kwakk Wakk reveals the purpose behind their purposeful march:

"Don't hit Krazy Kat upon the bean-o!"

And Pupp adds:

"Bean-o!"

[**I have listened closely to what Pupp is singing dozens of times now, and still cannot make out clearly what is being said. I have left blanks in the spots where the lyrics are still to be determined. If you have better ears than I, and the answers seem reasonable, I will update this in the near future. Feel free to leave comments below.]

The pair then join hands and begin to dance while pale examples of Herriman's Arizona-inspired rocks and mountain scroll along past them in the distance. Suddenly, Krazy Kat dances into view. Offissa Pupp and Mrs. Kwakk Wakk stop their merriment to stare at the lovelorn cat, who spins about with a tremendous smile on her face. (For purposes of clarity, I haven chosen to establish Krazy's gender as female in this article, though her gender is generally considered fluid.) Krazy departs and continues to dance along, as houses and trees pass behind the cat. After leaping into the air, Krazy ducks her head into a flap in a booth ahead of her.

It sounds like something hits Krazy in the head, and the angle switches to the other side of the booth. We see a scowling Ignatz Mouse standing next to a pile of bricks. One after one, Ignatz picks up a brick and hurls it at Krazy's head, not even waiting it see it bounce off the cat's noggin before picking up the next one. But this is not enough for the mouse. Krazy has been smiling like an idiot thus far throughout the mouse's cruel but wrongly interpreted onslaught, but then Krazy shows surprise when she sees what is coming. Ignatz mounts a modified machine gun onto the counter of the booth and starts shooting bricks even faster at Krazy's head. The cat is knocked back through the flap at the back of the booth.

When she rises from the ground, Krazy flies up into the air with a happy smile still on her face, and then rushes to duck her head back into the flap to catch more bricks. Offissa Pupp only sees Krazy from the rear of the booth and scratches his head in confusion. He chuckles due to his adoration of Krazy and her strange behavior, but then realizes something must be amiss. He and the nosy duck march to the booth earnestly and see Krazy's body with her head still through the flap. She swings back and forth, clicking her heels with each hit of a brick (still completely unseen by Pupp and Kwakk Wakk).

Pupp picks up Krazy's tail and pushes the end of it like a doorbell or buzzer. Krazy's head pops out of the flap as she backs up, and we see that her ears have turned into the bells that used to adorn the tops of older telephones. They ring fast and loud, and Krazy pulls out a telephone receiver (with a cord) from out of nowhere. In the only word she will say throughout the cartoon, Krazy asks, "Hello?" Pupp is overjoyed to hear Krazy's voice, and responds, "Hello!" but then realizes this silliness is blocking him from his job in finding out what is happening on the other side of the booth. He swings Krazy away by her tail and out of the frame with a crash. Pupp puffs up his chest and adjusts his pants and ducks his head into the flap to see for himself. We hear a brick hit him square on the noggin, and he falls out backwards from the flap onto the ground.

On the other side of the booth, Ignatz realizes what has just happened. Hurriedly, he pitches the machine gun under the pile of bricks and forms them into a small chimney. He reaches over the counter and pulls out a long white beard, and then also pulls out a bell and a large sign that reads "Xmas Fund" on it. He starts to wave the bell in the air. Pupp gets up and comes around the side of the booth and sees the beard-wearing Ignatz forlornly ringing the bell as if to ask for donations for the needy. Pupp is ever the softie at heart, and readily flips a coin into the chimney.

Enter Krazy Kat from the side of the booth. She sees the sign and the chimney, but then sneezes, blowing the bricks from the false chimney up into the air, and causing them to rain down onto the head of Offissa Pupp! The brick-throwing machine gun too is revealed, and Pupp looks ready to clobber Ignatz. The mouse looks him in the face and laughs musically at the police dog. "Ha-ha, ha-ha, ha-ha-ha!" and then waggles the bell under Pupp's chin ticklishly. Pupp smacks Ignatz on the head with his truncheon and then drags the mouse away. Mrs. Kwakk too is riled up and overly excited by the capture of Ignatz, and she quacks wildly before conking Krazy on the head herself. (It must be pointed out that the duck is doing exactly what she was trying to stop in the first place: the further abuse of Krazy Kat.)

Pupp marches to a small jail that looks fairly like the one that Herriman himself would have drawn, and throws Ignatz into it with his truncheon, crashing the mouse through the front door. Pupp pulls out a large key, locks the door, and then swallows the key in one gulp, with his neck taking on the shape of the key briefly. Offissa Pupp then reverts back to the operetta style from earlier and sings:

"Ignatz Mouse, it's safe to say,
you will not toss a brick today!"

And Mrs. Kwakk Wakk finishes:

"Or any other day in Coconino!"

Pupp adds:

"Nino!" 

The pair dance away as before, and we next see Krazy Kat sneaking from tree to tree, with one rubbery leg stretching far out from behind one tree and then over to the next, pulling her body behind it. She gets to the jail where Ignatz sits in a second-story cell window with bars across it. She whistles to get the mouse's attention and shows him a large gift basket. He can't reach it with his tiny mouse arms, so Krazy lights a cigar sitting in the basket to rocket it upward. The basket lands in his arms, and he takes it inside. He first puts the cigar in his mouth happily, and then dumps all of the fruit out of the basket. The last item to pop out is a pie with a zipper running around its circumference. He unzips it and reveals all manner of tools with which he can perform an escape, including a saw, a drill, an axe, and even a good-sized, classically cartoonish bomb. He grabs the saw and drill and gets to work.

Krazy stands outside, with large hearts flying around and dissolving over her head. The jail starts to shake and bulge out in various places as Ignatz uses the escape tools. There is more stretching and shaking as bricks start to pop out of the building, and then entire holes are smashed out here and there. Another criminal is seen in another cell window on the second floor, hanging on while the building rocks back and forth. Finally, the building gives way, and the criminal's entire cell is sent flying, smashing the bricks off of it when he lands, upon which his cell door swings open. The criminal runs away.

Meanwhile, Krazy has bricks raining down on her, and she runs to avoid them. But then one of them hits her directly on the forehead, and she falls instantly into a love swoon, with more hearts popping in the air above her. She goes back into her leaping, spinning dance from the beginning of the picture, eventually running into Mrs. Kwakk Wakk. Krazy grabs the duck's wings and starts to dance with her, leaving Pupp to scratch his head. Mrs. Kwakk Wakk desperately tries to break Krazy's grip, and quacks wildly. By the time that they dance back to the police dog and Krazy switches partners, the duck is thoroughly exhausted. The cat and dog dance a quick round and come back to the duck, and then Krazy dances on her tiptoes around both of them.

Krazy dances back to the jail, where we see that the only thing that remains is a long pipe extending up from the foundation, on top of which rests Ignatz's jail cell, with the mouse still behind bars. The cell swings back and forth through the air, with bricks being shot out cannon-style through the chimney on top of the jail cell. Pupp rushes forward to check out the situation, but hears Mrs. Kwakk Wakk being attacked by the other criminal who was set free by the explosion of the jailhouse. The crook gets pretty "handsy" with the duck, and she wallops him a couple of times with her umbrella, but it doesn't stop him. Pupp jumps on the crook and they start to fight and roll about. In the melee, Mrs. Kwakk Wakk takes a couple more swings at the criminal, but hits Offissa Pupp soundly each time.

Ignatz sees what is happening and reaches down to the ground to pick up his machine gun. With a pile of bricks laying about, he has unlimited ammo and starts firing down in the direction of the criminal. He brains the criminal several times over, and then the gun allows Ignatz to shoot the bricks in such a way that it builds a brand new jail around the criminal, locking him inside. (I am not sure where the bars in the window come from, but oh well...) 

Ignatz leaps down from his cell window with a brick already hidden behind his back. Pupp and the duck are overjoyed at the capture, and the police dog rushes forward to shake the mouse's hand. Pupp departs, and Krazy walks up to Ignatz. The mouse looks only briefly at the brick before he wings it and hits Krazy once again. Pupp runs back into frame and chases Ignatz into the distance, with the mountains of Coconino County behind them. Iris out. 

As I mentioned, compared to some of the relative crimes of the later Krazy Kat cartoons against the art of animation, L'il Ainjil is the preferred choice. Yes, even when it goes against the true nature of the strip and mistakes what was cleverly satirical for slapstick violence, it is still a far cry better than what came before. This may be damning with faint praise, but so be it. I get a small rush just from knowing there is an older cartoon that actually use more than just the two most famous cast members of the strip and that they made a fairly decent show of replicating the look as well, including the backgrounds. And frankly, it is a lot of unthinking brick-throwing (and shooting), but I would rather see Ignatz -- and an Ignatz that actually looks like Ignatz -- throw a thousands bricks in one cartoon than not throw a brick at all. Especially when one realizes there are nearly 200 Krazy Kat cartoons, and this is the only one with Offissa Pupp and Mrs. Kwakk Wakk.

I am a bit astounded that Maltin passed this one off so quickly. It also makes me wonder if he actually watched it when he wrote his book. He gives no real detail about it and lets the quotes from Klein explain anything that was in the cartoon (which is little). All he is says is that the film was as bad as Klein remembered, and if he didn't actually watch it and just paid lip service to having done so, I am deeply surprised he wouldn't take a sharper look at the film to determine its true level of "badness". Naturally, he implies that he did just by his statement, but even a quick look at L'il Ainjil reveals it is not merely another product of the same line from whence it was built. It is an aberration from that line, and deserves to be studied a little closer than it has. It showed the wild potential that could have been had by this series if they had simply followed the original creation a little closer. We could have been talking about one of the classic cartoon series if they had developed these themes further (and would have hopefully brought more of the wordplay of the comic strip to the movie screen).

Just by its intent, L'il Ainjil proves, even at this belated date, that it has its heart in the right place and certainly beats out the Krazy films that preceded and followed it, even if the short disappointed its creators. It may have missed wildly, and it may have everyone in the balcony inexplicably booing it, but L'il Ainjil still throws a pretty mean brick.

RTJ

IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT:

Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse at the Circus (1916)

Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse at the Circus (Hearst International Film Service, 1916)
Animator: Leon Searle
Cel Bloc Rating: 6/9

So, what would you rather have from a cartoon titled Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse at the Circus? A cartoon that truly reflects the original Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse as they were portrayed in one of the most original and important pieces of art ever created (my opinion), the famous comic strip created by George Herriman? Or would you rather have the characters engaged in a full adventure that takes place in a circus setting and uses all of the elements that one expects to see when placed in such an environment?

You won't get either from Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse at the Circus. While the two characters certainly look exactly like their comic strip versions, and even talk in the "slanglish" speech that Herriman employs for his characters as well (albeit in word balloons only, since this is a silent film), at no point does the film attempt to duplicate the famous backgrounds and perspectives of Herriman's wonderfully rendered and surreal imagining of Coconino County, Arizona.

Instead we get a very basic white background at the beginning, along with the back end of a ticket wagon and opposite it, the entrance to the "Big Circus" tent. Krazy Kat, looking pretty much as in the comics, wanders around the ticket booth, and asks via word balloon, which lays out each letter in her statement in order, "A ticket an' a half." The ticket seller gives Krazy the ticket and a half, and after Krazy moves to the entrance to the show, she turns around and waves her paw. [Note: Krazy Kat is notoriously non-specific, and quite fluid, as to sexuality, but to make things easier in describing the action, I have gone with Krazy as a female in this case.] 

Krazy commands, "Come on Ignatzes darlink!" and then moves inside the tent. Into view comes Ignatz Mouse, himself looking exactly as he does in the comic, with his stick legs and arms, his round little body, his face all wound up in frustration at the world, and his curled tail. He stops at the entrance and motions that he is listening to what is occurring inside. Instead of moving through the open entrance (he has a half ticket after all), he decides to look under the edge of the tent and then enter that way. (I guess mice are rather prone and used to sneaking about, so maybe this way is more natural to him.)

We get a telescopic view of Krazy Kat's bottom perched on the stands inside the circus, with her tail swishing back and forth in excitement. Ignatz strides up and looks at her tail quizzically, and then ascends up its length to take his place alongside the Kat for the show. Krazy's tail continues to dance around a little before the camera switches angles. We next see Krazy put her arm around her beloved, but Ignatz takes a look around and then hurriedly hides in fear behind Krazy, peeking out a couple of times at what is coming towards them.

A dog, no larger than crazy herself, walks into the frame, and stops in front of Krazy and looks up at her. Krazy greets the dog with "Hello! Lynxie How is it by you?" The dog responds, "Oh, putty nice! Seen any nice fat mice about, Krazy I'm hungry as a bear?" [Note: The punctuation use is as it appears in the word balloons.] Krazy, worried for Ignatz's life, shakes her head back and forth to tell the dog "No". Lynxie responds, "Well if you see any let me know even if they ain't so fat!" The dog wanders off and out of the picture for good.

Ignatz ducks back out from behind Krazy, runs forward to watch the dog depart, and we see his knees quake in fear. Krazy asks him, "Ignatz why is mice sech cowards?" in her strange argot. "Fool I ain't a coward!" he replies instantly, but we see his knees rattle together once more to negate his statement. Krazy picks up on this and challenges him. "You gota show me!" she says. "Poof I'll show you Krazy!" he spits back. 

The scene cuts to a series of dressing room doors outside, with the large circus tent as the only feature in the background. Ignatz marches with purpose up to the door in the middle, marked with a number "2" and a large star. He leaps up and peers through the keyhole, and we see the legs and bottom torso of a seated human female preparing for the show. Ignatz breaks the fourth wall and turns and gives a wink and a knowing smile to the audience. Then, without even knocking, he pulls open the door to the dressing room and runs into it.

He flies up to the female and throws his arms into the air, yelling "Boo!" at her. We must assume there is a scream, for the only reaction we see if that the circus star pulls up the hem of her dressing garment and reveals two shapely legs clads in stockings. Her knees also rattle together briefly, and then she steps up on stool to get out of the reach of the invading mouse fiend. A word balloon spells out "POLICE HELP!" as Ignatz casually strolls out of the dressing room.

Krazy asks, "Well?" and then follows up with, "Shux that ain't brave Anyone can scare a mere womans". Ignatz replies, "All right Krazy Let's see you do it!" Krazy walks into the dressing room, points her fingers at the female like guns, and yells, "SPOOF!" The next thing she knows, Krazy is swatted hard into the ground with a broom. She is told to "Skat" and then pushed down with the broom again and again. The End.

Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse at the Circus is only three minutes in length, and never tries to do too much within that span. It gives us a simple comic situation and carries it through. It never comes close to approaching the complexity or far more robust language of the comic strip, and granted, this is pretty much a given considering the severe limitations of the animated art form in 1916. There were relatively few studios and animators growing the art form at that time, and conveying a storyline based around the joys of linguistic gymnastics would also have been impossible in the silent era as well.

So you have to take your pleasures where you may. I may be disappointed that the true possibilities of Krazy, Ignatz, and the missing member of the love triangle, Offisa Pupp, were never really explored onscreen, except in a couple of brief instances (those would be the 1936 Charles Mintz cartoon, L'il Ainjll -- which I will be writing about next week -- and a short cartoon that appeared on Sesame Street in the early 1970s, where brick-throwing explains the word "love" to the prepubescent audience. (That wouldn't happen just a few years later, and it may explain why, apart from possible copyright violations, the Sesame Street piece has sadly disappeared from view, even on DVD reissues.) 

But if you want to see Krazy and Ignatz where they still look something like the Krazy and Ignatz in the strips, then you need to take advantage of the few silent cartoons that have survived. Krazy Kat and Ignatz Mouse at the Circus may not be Herriman's vision, nor gives us much in the way of circus antics, but it's better than nothing.

***

For my first take on the later cartoons of Krazy Kat and my love for the original comic strip, visit my post from May 11, 2006 at http://cinema4celbloc.blogspot.com/2006/05/bars-and-stripes-1931.

BARS AND STRIPES (1931)

Bars and Stripes (Columbia, 1931)
Dir: Manny Gould

Cel Bloc Rating: 7/9

"Sounds like the Envil Choritz by Rigid Vogna in beer flet." - Krazy Kat (as transcribed by Geo. Herrimann)

No comic strip gets me revved up like Krazy Kat. Yes, I also highly revere Pogo, Little Nemo, Thimble Theatre, the early Peanuts, and Calvin and Hobbes, but overall, Krazy Kat is the one. It is high art encased in the body of a "mere comic strip," and I never weary of reading my numerous collections. For me, the entire universe is summed up through the slapstick machinations and fractured English of poor Krazy, Ignatz Mouse ("Mice", as Krazy callz 'im), and Offissa B. Pupp: each one with a fixation, each either lovesick or filled with loathing for one of the others or both, and each conspiring against the other, in various permutations. And all through the inventively endless tossing of a common brick. In the process, the strip seems to be about everything and nothing at the same time. George Herrimann should be held in the same esteem as Shakespeare, Michelangelo, etc., and just as well known. However, in today's world, where most of the population seems to not even be aware that Peter Jackson's King Kong is a remake, and many people I have met believe that the original was from 1976 (*sigh*), this will never be. For all the world of today knows, "Krazy Kat" will just be the next amazingly irritating ringtone to be downloaded from those insidious Frog pushers.

Adapting the Kat who is not Krazy into another medium has proven exceedingly difficult. It has been tried numerous times to create a film series out of the misadventures of this ultimate in cross-special romantic triangles, even on television, but the offerings usually come up far, far short of Herrimann's intentions, if they even try to duplicate the formula at all. Such is the case with the Columbia Pictures' version of Krazy Kat from the 1930s. No Ignatz; no Pupp; just little ol' Krazy, and the Kat couldn't be more different than herself. Or himself. Whatever Krazy was... The Krazy here is basically another generic Mickey Mouse clone with zero true personality. So, why do I enjoy Bars and Stripes from 1931 so much?

Musical torture, my friends; the answer lies in musical torture. In either a music studio/shop or rehearsal hall (the film never makes this clear), Krazy Kat starts out the show by picking up a cello and scrawling out a few torturous Jack Benny-style notes on the poor thing. Not only are the instruments surrounding him holding their ears in disgust (all of the instruments have their own faces, arms and legs), but they are scowling disgustedly at Krazy. They scowl even more after Krazy starts weeping over the "beautiful" music being scratched across the cello's face. (The cello scowls the most.) When Krazy stops playing to cry himself a river, all of the instruments blow a raspberry at him, and when Krazy turns to angrily face them, they all whistle and pretend they did no such thing. Undeterred, Krazy goes back to playing, but the cello has finally had enough. Its arms pop out and grab the bow, pushing it and Krazy away. Krazy attacks the cello and starts scratching out more notes, but the cello takes the bow away.

Krazy picks up another bow from the ground, and the pair start dueling. Random hits on the cello from Krazy's bow produce short, quick squeals and squeaks, and the cello returns the favor rhythmically upon Krazy. The horns watching on the sidelines serve as a sort of chorus to the noise produced from the dueling pair. At one point, their gloves and bows remain striking each other in midair, as the two of them rub their sore hands, before returning to their gloves for more action. After circling each other with savage blows, Krazy finally gains the upper hand, slicing the cello's bow in half, and then stabbing the cello through the stomach. Krazy lifts him up and throws him out the window, and when the other instruments run to look at their fallen comrade, Krazy runs up and pushes them all out the window, too. From the sidewalk, the cello demands retribution, shaking a fist and yelling, "This means WAR!!"

The trumpet stands up and blares out a few notes, which dance through the air back into the music studio, and tap dance atop a snare drum, creating a martial call to arms to the rest of the instruments in the studio. The instruments march out and on to the streets, where a huge musical parade begins, with hundreds of instruments marching in formation against Krazy Kat. A note climbs through the window of an apartment and wakes up a sleeping saxophone. Climbing out of bed, the sax puts on his strap, and then, through a mournful solo, tells his wife that he is going to war. She weeps with great worry, but things get worse when their son comes into the room. The sax kisses his child goodbye and heads off to the streets. More and more instruments scurry from every building and alleyway to join the army.

At the home of Mr. Cello, he grabs his bow from above the mantle. His son tries to join his dad, grabbing another bow and carrying it over his shoulder like a rifle. He plays a few weak notes, trying to convince his father that he is grown up enough. His father laughs and tells him, rather sternly, "No!" After Mr. Cello leaves, a pig enters the room, pulls out a hose and blows the baby cello up to an adult size, decreasing his own porcine size in the process. The son marches joyously off to the war. As the war parade continues to grow and move on Krazy's home, a pair of clarinets are caught smooching under a tree. The male of the pair gives her one final kiss and runs off to join the others.

Soon, the entire army surrounds the house of Krazy Kat, and without warning, starting blasting cannonballs built of musical notes through every window of the house. The building itself rocks from side to side in a vain attempt to avoid the blasts. A statue of an ancient warrior is pelted with note-fire, losing his shield and club, and Krazy runs to the window to survey the attack. After a barrage of notes take out many of his fixtures like so many carnival targets, Krazy starts catching cannonballs and cranking them into smaller notes through the use of a meat grinder, which spits the bullets back at the army like a Gatling gun. Instrument after instrument has its feet knocked out from under them as the bullets reach their targets. Soon, instruments are falling down onto stretchers, and it is looking decidedly grim for the army.

However, the instrument's refocus their efforts, and reload themselves for another thrust. A megaphone throws notes into a saxophone; the piano stuffs its keys with pile after pile of musical bullets; and a tuba marches up and swallows down an armory's worth of ammunition in one giant gulp. The attack is soon on, and though the house tries again to avoid being hit, it has it's roof blown off. Krazy runs about trying to avoid a cannonball, and he turns every few steps to slap it away, but the cannonball is more than determined (seen through a suddenly appearing and angry face and arms) and makes one last thrust at Krazy. It misses, and instead crashes into Krazy's wine cellar. The wine sprays through the house and out into the yard, coating the entire army in boozy goodness. A quartet of horns start drunkenly playing How Dry I Am, with the clarinet hiccuping an off-key note in the middle. He is shamed at first by his fellows, and then they all collapse, passed out in the lake of spirits. Krazy starts laughing uproariously in victory!

If only he had been victorious in finding some sort of personality outside of simply being a passive figure in three-quarters of his own cartoon. The Krazy Kat in this film, a male, disappears for a large chunk of the action, but that's fine with me; the characters with real personalities here are the instruments, even if most of them have the same personality, just slightly adapted to the musical attributes of each different one. But they are united in a delirious group-think, dedicated to bringing the tormenting feline with a cello bow down for good. The main fun here is in the gathering of the armed musical forces and their determined march to Krazy's abode. The battle is only the butter on the biscuit, though I quite enjoy the idea of musical notes wadded into the form of cannonballs and then savaging Krazy's house in a sort of time-measured fusillade. I just wish that more of Krazy's true personality had been attempted, not just in Bars and Stripes, as fun as it is, but in Krazy's fairly long-running Columbia series.

Columbia did take one shot, in 1936, at a Krazy Kat cartoon with most of the elements from the comic strip. The film was called Lil' Ainjil, and from all reports, it did not go over at all. Myself, I finally got a chance to see it, and while it goes off the rails late in the film, for most of the short it is as close as they ever got in the early days to reflecting even a portion of what was going on in the comic strip.

But it is still in second place. The closest anyone has come to seeing the true vision of Herriman's onscreen (big or small) was a short clip that ran on Sesame Street in the early 1970s when I was a mere child. (OK, so it ran on there when I wasn't such a mere child either, and yes, I still watch the show sporadically today, being a huge Muppet fan.) Pupp, Ignatz, brick-flying and all... it was there, and all as a representation of the word "Love". I am not aware of who produced the clip, but they had it right. And, one day in my youth when I went to the Eagle River Public Library, there in the dusty little-used arts and entertainment section, on the very shelves where I learned also to love Buster Keaton, Ray Harryhausen, Alfred Hitchcock and W.C. Fields, all before I ever saw even one of their films, I discovered a book called George Herriman's Krazy Kat, with an introduction by none other than e.e. cummings. One afternoon spent in shock and fascination that there was more to these characters than just a short clip on Sesame Street, and then a solid month (at first) spent studying the precious tome each night, and it was clear that a lifelong love affair had bloomed.

Krazy Kat and Love. You truly can't understand either one without the other...