Greedy Humpty Dumpty (1936)

Greedy Humpty Dumpty (A Max Fleischer Color Classic, 1936) 
Dir.: Dave Fleischer
Animators: David Tendlar; William Sturm
Music: Sammy Timberg; Bob Rothberg
Cel Bloc Rating: 6/9

As I said yesterday, animators don't need to know the history behind something to continue on apace with a project. It might help if the subject you are lampooning or portraying has some sort of historical importance or is a current figure in the headlines; some good jokes can come out of even the simplest morsel of dogged research. But we are talking about nursery rhyme and fairy tale characters for the most part when discussing the animated films of the first half of the 20th century. All that you really need to use for a springboard is the most basic information at the disposal of both yourself and the audience. And that information? In the case of Mr. Humpty Dumpty, that information is encased in four very famous lines; lines so famous, that it is not only one of the first poems that most children hear in their lives, it is also one of the first cautionary tales they hear, too:

"Humpy Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again."

So short; so concise; so... lacking in detail. Perhaps due to its history as a riddle in which children are supposed to guess Humpty's identity, the poem is locked in mystery, especially its etymologic origins; but, I've said before that I want to skip all of that folderol to concentrate on the mystery of Humpty himself. Who is he, besides an egg? Why did he have a great fall, and why was he sitting there in the first place? After his fall, why are the king's resources spent trying to reassemble him? Is he the king?

In Max Fleischer's 1936 Color Classic, Greedy Humpty Dumpty, Humpty actually IS the king: the king of Nursery Rhyme Land, that is. On top of that, according to the title of the film, he is greedy, and this character deficiency has turned poor Mr. Dumpty into a tyrant. Like most tyrants, he hides this bad behavior (or is self-deluded into thinking he has hidden it) under a veneer of gaiety and forced cheerfulness. Perched high atop a wall, wearing a gold crown and glutting himself on a turkey leg, he looks for all the world like an ovoid Henry the Eighth, and he opens the cartoon with a burst of boastful song quite literally fit for a king…

"I'm Humpty Dumpty, king of wealth,
and this wall of gold is my throne!
I've built it high so it touches the sky!
This wall is all my own!
The more I have, the more I want;
I love this glistening stuff!
There's power untold in these pieces of gold,
I've never had enough!"

But, there is dissent at large in the kingdom. Peering up at their king from a log, Little Boy Blue and Little Bo Peep (who is knitting clothing straight from her sheep) voice the people's discontent with their own song…

"Ohhhh... Look out! Look out!
Some day you're gonna fall!
Look out! Look out!
You aren't smart at all!
Oh Me! Oh My!
You go too high!
You'll be sorry by and by!"

The Old Woman in the Shoe reprimands the tyrant with a round of scolding…

"Look out! Look out!
The years have made me wise!
I know the end
Of all you greedy guys!
You've got to stop
While you’re on top --"

Her kids peek out of the shoe, pull the broom out from under their mother's arm and knock her down. They finish the song in a giggling fashion…

"Or you're gonna take the plop!"

King Humpty merely laughs off all of this bad press, drops a handful of gold coins into a pants pocket that looks more like it is carved in his side like a piggy bank, and wanders back to the golden-spired castle that is surrounded by his great wall of gold. Inside an antechamber, filled to the rafters with bags and bars and loose piles of gold, Humpty takes to playing on a table with a stack of coins, laughing lustily the entire time. But then the sun pokes its sunlight into the room, and Humpty is taken with the stray ray of light. "Gold! Gold! Gold!", he shouts, and climbs up his piles to peer directly out the window at the sun. When he looks at its center, he imagines that it is of the most detailed finery, and he yells with a righteous fury, still continuing to rhyme…

"Why didn't I know 
there was gold in the sun?
I'll get that, too, 
before I am done!"

He runs back outside to his wall, checks himself before he falls off accidentally (and thereby wrecking himself), and then calls the citizens of the land to gather for some important news…

"There's gold in the sun! 
I saw it there!
Precious gold that is so rare!
So, get busy, everyone!
Build my wall to reach the sun!"

Mother Goose, who must have lost the kingdom to Humpty Dumpty in an earlier story, offers him some sage advice…

"Don't climb too high 
to build your wall
'Cause the higher you crawl, 
the harder you'll fall!"

This enrages the eggy monarch, and he pulls out a whip to make his point crystal clear. He cracks it over the heads of the populace and threatens them thusly…

"If you value your lives, 
and also your health,
You'll dive right in, 
for I want more wealth!"

The citizenry, fearing for their lives now, do indeed dive into building the wall higher! Scores of people carry sacks labeled "Gold Dust" to a trough where the Three Men In A Tub mix it with water to form mortar. The Rock-a-bye Baby gets in the act, using a bucket to pour the mortar along the top of the wall by sliding his cradle in the treetops along a branch. Mother Goose's namesake pet is a dedicated bricklayer, using its pointed beak for a perfect trowel. Pelicans also pick up mouthfuls of the mortar and pour it along the wall, while storks, too, help out the dispersal of the building materials. Witches on broomsticks carry the bulk of the workload, picking up large loads of bricks and dropping them perfectly into place on flyover missions. The wall eventually completely envelops the castle, even its spires, but still Humpty orders them to build higher.

At last, he is but a few feet away from the sun, and King Humpty himself stacks the last few bricks into place. He almost falls when he stands at its peak, but he balances himself, and then pulls out a huge axe and swings it at the golden orb. The effect is devastating -- and completely expected. Flames shoot out from the surface right at Humpty and he has to duck in order to avoid getting roasted. But somehow, lightning jumps out in the form of a stick figure, picks up Humpty, lays him over its knee and spanks him fiercely. He cries and rubs his backside, but the sun is not finished with him -- not by a long shot! Another lightning charge shoots out and takes the form of a jackhammer, caving in the side of the tower. It sways precariously from side to side, losing more bricks with each sway, and Humpty has to fight to keep from falling.

But fall he does when the entire structure finally collapses, taking Humpty's treetop castle with it, and as the yolk-filled despot falls to earth, he has one last relapse of greed. On the way down, he reaches out hungrily for a falling brick of gold, but then realizes he is doomed, and releases the object of his desire. He hits the ground with a disgusting splat, and there is soon nothing left of him but shards of broken shell. Various hands reach in to rebuild the fallen monarch, and he sings a tale of woe upon his reconstruction:

"Oh, I climbed too high
To build my wall,
But I got too greedy
And I had a great fall!"

He holds together for mere seconds before he falls to pieces for the last time. A choir then recites the last two lines of the famous poem, and the Nursery Rhyme kingdom is less one tyrant.

The Fleischers take the Dumpty storyline (such as it is) and run with it, imagining exactly who he really is, where he lives (a given, when considering the source of the poem), and detailing both exactly why he is on the wall and why he falls from it. It doesn't matter whether the poem actually mentions any of this detail or not; what is important is that the poem is successful enough in the human imagination that anyone can imagine the reasoning behind Humpty Dumpty's plight in infinite variations. Humpty's charge towards the sun is rhythmically strong as drama, with a slow and careful build (and, in Humpty's case, climb) to the conclusion. And the visual depiction of Humpty reaching the sun and battling it is a unique vision, and when the sun's defense springs into action, it is savage and brutal.

What disappoints me, though, is that yet again a nursery rhyme land is imagined (such as in Warner Bros.' Sniffles and the Bookworm, reviewed recently here), but while much thought has been given to the main character, little is done with the rich cast of Mother Goose characters at their disposal. Five or six characters are seen briefly, but then the action is turned over to squadrons of nondescript witches, storks and pelicans. I would have rather seen the different manners in which Jack Sprat and his wife help out; Simple Simon could klutz about and provide comic relief; -- and damn it! Jack built a whole house; why not let him and his rat and cat and dog and so on run riot while building the wall. Not to mention Jack and Jill; you already have characters moving pails about -- why, that's a natural for the unlucky pair! And certainly the Three Blind Mice could provide some politically incorrect chuckles misplacing various objects whilst building away? There are so many characters, and so many possibilities, that it seems perhaps the Fleischers got a little lazy again in the story area while concentrating so hard on developing the lead character.

And what is more shocking than a nursery rhyme character, generally though to be a cheerful and carefree sort until his plunge, picking up a bullwhip and cracking it angrily at the populace of his town? Not just the S&M overtones; not the totalitarian threat inherent in his actions; but the fact that it comes from a character of relative innocence, apart from his greedy habits, before this moment makes it all the more memorable.

Now, if only I could gather a conference together to discuss this weird cannibalism thing in the cartoon world. Daffy and Donald Duck regularly eat or crave the flesh of other fowl in various films, and now here, in an even kinkier twist on self-species destruction, Humpty Dumpty, an egg, though of unknown origin, is devouring the leg of some bird, most likely a turkey, in keeping with the play on Hank the In-Between-Seventh-and-Ninth. I know greed knows no limits, but come on...

If there are turkeys far smaller than the egg that is Humpty, then from what monstrous creature did Humpty drop? An allosaurus?

RTJ

*****

And in case you haven't seen it...

[This article was revised and updated on 1/18/2016. My thanks to the anonymous person who long ago helped me figure out a couple of the lines of Humpty's song.]

Little Dutch Mill (1934)

Little Dutch Plate (A Max Fleischer Color Classic, 1934) 
Dir.: Dave Fleischer
Animators: Willard Bowsky; Dave Tendlar
Cel Bloc Rating: 6/9

One of the most cherished books of my childhood was a collection of short stories written and illustrated by Johnny Gruelle, creator of Raggedy Ann and Andy. Now, the famous dolls only appear in the book as characters in a section on the ABCs; most of the book is dedicated to stories about bears, fairy wonderlands and toys come to life. I am really hard pressed to tell you the title of the collection, for I do not actually possess the copy, as the book resides with my mother back home in Anchorage, and the reason that I have such a hard time recalling the title is that I have never actually seen the true front cover of the book. I believe that the cover was severely damaged in my infancy, and thus a new cover was sewn onto the book.

But the cover and title are not important here; what is important to know is that the book held a variety of whimsically designed ducks inside its covers. Toy wooden ducks and "real" ducks (though drawn), all with squat little bodies and wide, smiling bills. Gruelle obviously knew exactly how charmingly he could portray them, because the book is full of them. And the charm worked on me.

The second Max Fleischer Color Classic, Little Dutch Mill has a Gruelle-like duck as a supporting prescence in its story, and if the film had concentrated more on this character, I might be more inclined to like the film. As it is, like Poor Cinderella before it, so much has been concentrated on design and wowing the audience visually, that very little attention was paid in the story department. The story in a cupboard? Precisely a story in a cupboard, for that is where this film begins, as various cups are hung inside of the cupboard, as a woman's voice sings of the little dutch plate that forms the centerpiece of the collection. The song is an exceedingly successful song from 1934 (popularized by Bing Crosby), which tells of the love that a little Dutch boy and a little Dutch girl have for each other. The song, as it exists in this cartoon, goes:

"Far across the sea in Holland
in the land of wooden shoes,
there's a story
nearly everyone knows
and I'll tell you how it goes...!
In a little Dutch mill
on a little Dutch hill..."

The story shifts to the mill depicted on the plate, whose frame and blades are torn and spent from years of neglect, while a little Dutch girl, a little Dutch boy, and the aforementioned charming duck cavort about in circles, dancing their cares away and la-la-la-ing the next couple lines of the stanza. (The song's lyrics pretty much disappear at this point.) As the music continues, through a wonderfully expansive stroll along the street, we see the inhabitants of this happy place working hard at their daily chores, all in time to the song. Milkmaids, butter churners, a cart-pulling dachshund, and an incongruously placed shoeshine boy (who doesn't shine the wooden shoes; he shaves them down and repaints them -- this is clever; the racial profiling, however, is not). If this were a Disney flick, every one of the citizens would be whistling while they work.

But, one person, had he been given the chance, would definitely not be whistling: a mean ol' scraggly miser, who shouts about his hatred of humanity and stomps through the swamps barefoot and crushes flowers with a growl and a sneer. Such is his depravity that he poses as a blind beggar, collects a coin from an unsuspecting passerby, and then dismisses the coin as so much junk. His guise is that of an old Betty Boop cretin, and it seems he is always two steps away from breaking into a Cab Calloway shuffle. (One keeps waiting for the jazz band to kick into high gear and start playing.) In his own mumbled though grouchily musical verbiage, he sings:

"I hate all neat-and-cleans!!
I'm dirty, and I'm mean!!

It turns out that he is the owner of the little Dutch mill, and he scowls menacingly at the playing (though cowering) children as he passes. When he slams and locks the door, he pulls a huge bag of gold out of a hidden chamber, pours it out on a table and chants:

"Jingle! Jingle! Glittering gold!
Precious power and strength unfold!
Reap it! Keep it! Hold it well!
Bold as blood, as life itself!"

So, after establishing that he is a financial conservative disguised in the clothes of a social liberal, the miser is disturbed by the children, who are peeking through his window and see his secret stash of glittering gold. He dives out at them and chases the Goody-Two-Wooden-Shoes around and around his mill. He finally catches the children and drags them inside of the mill. The clock tower bells chime 6 o'clock, and all of the children in the village go home, kicking their wooden shoes off on the stoops to their houses. We are then presented with a chilling, three-dimensional panning shot of the row of houses, and all of the  delightful pairs of wooden shoes neat and in their places, with the camera finally resting on the pair of shoeless homes, side by side, naturally, where the kidnapped children live. The mothers simultaneously discover this intrusion of horror on their normally happy lives, and soon enough, panic is set loose on the streets.

Meanwhile, the villain stokes his fire, making sure that his iron is red hot so that he may burn the tongues out of the kids, merely to ensure that they can't give away his miserly secret. The brats are tied securely to a post, though their charming little duck is not. He attacks the villain, but this only succeeds in getting his little feathery butt kicked out of the mill. As successes go, this is a major one for the kids, as it allows the duck to go and warn the populace of the whereabouts of the children. While the people don't understand him at first, the duck finally manages to make them follow him to the ramshackle mill. The people smash in the door without hesitation, free the children, and take hold of the mean ol' miser for good!

Apparently, prison is not a harsh enough treatment for someone of his temperament and predilection for stealing, kidnapping and attempted murder. No, they have to resort to a far worse punishment: conformity. They throw the villain in a bath, clip his nails, cut his hair and comb it, shave his face, and outfit him in costumed finery. Women scrub the walls of the mill to reveal long dusted-over wallpaper; they curtain his windows with bloomers and beat the rugs to reveal Persian splendors. The miser struggles through all of this torturous cleansing, but when he at last stands revealed before a mirror, he is surprised to find that he likes what he sees.

And he also likes what he sees in the little Dutch mill that day, too - a marvelously languorous 3D shot of the interior of the mill is shown, without any animated characters, just the prop furniture and detailed walls and balconies. (And the Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day!) The once miserly hoarder discovers true happiness, and gives his gold out to the populace. Finally, the kids (with the swell duck) take to dancing about the mill again, whereupon the camera pulls out to reveal the plate sitting in the cupboard, and the final strains of the song close the picture just as the doors to the cupboard are likewise closed.

Though enlivened somewhat by the crazed villain, and while my heart yearns to have a duck as swell as that, apart from the always engaging shots from Fleischer's remarkable turntable camera system, there is little else to the film. The song eluded to in the title and at the film's introduction is swiftly forgotten, and thus, there is no romance shown between the children even though that is the actual lyrical intent of the song.

And how scary is the concept that only by being part of the group can one find instant and true happiness? I know conformity was a big thing in the ’30s. There was a depression on and the country, is was thought, needed to have everyone as cheerful in their despair as possible; to pull itself up by the bootstraps and carry on until good times returned. Elsewhere, and nearer to Holland, the decade would eventually lead to the rise of Nazism, in which an entire country, via propaganda, was forced to think alike and those that were different were murdered, or subjugated to mental and physical imprisonment, starvation, and torture, and then murdered. It also led to the rise of its American opposite, the Greatest Generation, in which an entire country was convinced to think alike, via propaganda, and rise up and destroy those same Nazis. What was done to stop the fiends during World War II had to be done in the manner used, but according to a movie like this, all those dirty Nazis needed was a good scrubbing.

I'm not defending the kidnapper and would-be child torturer in this film; I'm just defending his right to be left alone to his miserly misery. The kids are obviously trespassing on his property, and then invade his privacy, and will obviously tell the populace of his hidden wealth. I admit, his violent reaction goes waaaaaayyyyyy too far, but in his head, the miser is merely protecting himself and his property. So, you don't want to fix up your place and buy new clothes? That's his choice as a human. So, he's dirty and unbathed and loaded with cash? Same deal. And who doesn't wish that they were as thrifty as he? Since when is it a crime to hoard money in one's home? And he's grouchy and mean and hates all humanity? That's no crime as long as you don't act out against another person. Unfortunately for the miser, he does act against them. But to be forced to look and think and act like the rest of the town? Total strangers invade your home against your will and remodel it into what they think a proper and accepted home should look like? Thought (and active) crimes just as bad as his transgressions against the little Dutch kids. The miser has lost his freedom of expression.

We look askance at people like the Unabomber or Charles Manson, and consider them to be mad and insane. There is no denying that they are mad; but somewhere deep at the root of their insane rantings, there was once probably a small kernel of truth that formed a basis for their sincere concerns over our society, before they took that kernel and ran with it to Crazy-Murderer-Land. We recoil with fear over Muslim fundamentalists and think their concerns crazy of the highest degree, because they don't jibe with what is considered the "normal" worldview, even as each and every one of our "acceptable" religions (in white American parlance) have equally whack-job concepts (and equally beneficial aspects) lining their allegedly "holy" texts, and just as much (and most likely more) murder has been done in the name of Jesus Christ than anything else in the last 2,000 years. And, even in the current personal realm of inanities, if you don't watch American Idol, salivate over the National Football League, or celebrate Easter, you are looked at by your co-workers as a monster from hell.

Apparently, it's alright to think differently, as long as you are thinking differently the same way as everyone else. We're all Bwian!!!

Well, I’m not Bwian, er, Brian! I'm a charming, Johnny Gruelle-drawn duck. Quack!!!

RTJ

*****

And in case you haven't seen it...