WOLF, WOLF! (1944)

Wolf! Wolf! (Terrytoons, 1944)
Dir: Mannie Davis
Cel Bloc Rating: 5

Despite the fact that Terrytoons was one of the longest-lived cartoon studios in history, almost literally churning out their "product" for over 35 years into over a thousand cartoons, I have seen relatively few of their films. Public domain collections seem to be the only place that I can find Mighty Mouse; I've seen more Heckle and Jeckle through cameos in feature films (Kill Bill, Part 2 being a recent example) than I have ever seen in their full adventures; and Gandy Goose and Sourpuss are distant memories, long relegated to the Underwhelming Character dustbin in my brain. Most of the Terrytoon action that I have encountered has been in television shows packaged around their 1960's characters: Deputy Dawg, Hector Heathcote, Hashimoto, and Ralph Bakshi's fun The Mighty Heroes, and most of this animation was produced for television, though some of it was released to theatres well after its television debut.

I am not lamenting this gap in my animation viewing history because of the quality of the cartoons; no, far from it. What I have seen of the Paul Terry product is serviceable at best, though I will withhold further judgement of the studio's output until I have seen more examples and in a more recent vein, not relying so much on fond memories of cartoon viewings of my long ago childhood (as are my remembrances of Heckle and Jeckle, first seen on a UHF channel when I was but a lad).

Which brings me to Mighty Mouse, of whom I have garnered most of my knowledge from four sources: the abhorent TV series from the 1970's; the middling Gold Key/Whitman comics with which I grew up; the witty and dynamic Ralph Bakshi TV series of the 1980's; and Andy Kaufman's ironic but loving lip-synching of an ancient Mighty Mouse Theme Song 78 rpm record on Saturday Night Live, still one of my favorite television moments of all time. Oh, I have seen a handful of the old Mighty Mouse cartoons, both in operetta and non-operetta form, as there are two distinct periods of his career before he was sucked into the boob tube; but again, most of these viewings were as a youth, so I cannot rely on my memory of them at this junction.

One thing I can rely on is my recent viewing of Wolf! Wolf!, a Mighty Mouse short from 1944, only the fifth cartoon in the series where he was actually named Mighty Mouse (the films for the previous two years he had the monicker of Super Mouse, but more on that at a later date). The title card for the version that I own is clearly not the original card; it has the feel and tone of a 70's TV title card, with an outer space background over which the first a later version of the character is superimposed, and then the name of the hero in a simple white font. The titles then jarringly shift to those of the original cartoon, and then into the action of the film itself.

This is comprised of a plot by a group of lazy but starving wolves to trap a flock of sheep for dinner, though for the bulk of the film they only concentrate on a single lamb. To set up this action, a narrator reads a modified version of "Little Bo Peep" to open the show, and one wolf, who clearly has some issues he needs to confront, dons a Little Bo Peep costume, using a barbell to imitate a tremendous pair of breasts. Once dressed, this wolf shows off and teases the remaining wolves, who wolf-whistle (naturally) as the tranny wolf raises his skirt to show a hairy garter-garnished leg. Of course, such behavior would be just a little too weird for 1944, and the wolves naturally laugh off their lustful antics as mockery. One wonders...

The wolf attempts to use a flute to lead the sheep to the slaughter, which works at first until the lamb also lifts the skirt of the disguised wolf to also see the gartery and hairy leg. The lamb backs off warily at this discovery, but as no living creature seems to have any resistance to the power of swing music, the wolf pulls out a trumpet and blares out a rousing tune, accompanied by the rest of the wolves who are hiding behind the fence of their yard, which causes the lamb to fall back into step and eventually into their trap. The wolves chase and trap the lamb, causing the narrator to blurt "What brutes! What cowards! What fiends!" at the lot. One wolf responds to the camera, "What lambchops!", and then the wolves continue their preparations for lunch.

Because Mighty Mouse is clearly representative of the deus ex machina, it is only appropriate that the little lamb launches into a prayer for its life, which it does once the wolves point a variety of knives, guns and other assorted weaponry at its tiny face. Once this prayer is spoken, the camera shifts to a tree with a door at its base; the camera then travels up the tree past a variety of windows until it rests at a house atop the highest branch on the tree. The narrator utters only "Mighty Mouse!", as the heroic rodent steps out onto his porch. (There is no singing Mighty intro as he rushes into the fray.) The narrator then says, "He's off!" as the mouse does so, and the battle begins.

The mouse first, and shockingly, sets fire to the first wolf, who literally jumps out of his skin, even though it keeps trying to catch up to him and eventually rides him like a jockey! Several wolves throw a tremendous barrage of butcher knives at Mighty, but he uses his mastery of magnetism (which I never knew he possessed) to turn away the missiles, sending them flying dangerously back at their owners. (None hit them, however.) Mighty apparently drowns another wolf as he forces the contents of a beer keg that is being squirted at him down the throat of the predator; as there is no shot of the wolf either drunk or gasping for breath, I can only surmise that Mighty's wrath is of the cruelest aspect. A stewpot that the lamb was being readied for dinner within is upended by Mighty Mouse, who flies about safely inside of it knocking down the canines, until the wolves launch a concentrated assault from their shotgun shack with a large number of cannons. (Why the wolves didn't just blow the snot out the sheep with all of these weapons is beyond me.) Mighty crashes his makeshift stewpot cannonball into the shack, blowing all of the wolves (and the lamb) high up into the sky. The whole lot begin to fall back down to earth, but the only one that seems to be either awake or alive (take your pick) is the little lamb, whom Mighty Mouse catches as the wolves continue their plummet, possibly to their deaths (if they aren't dead already.) The lamb is reunited with his mother as the narrator closes the cartoon with the intonation, "Mighty Mouse proves again that he's the champion of sheep and men!"

For all of their experience as a cartoon studio, there is an amateurish roughness to their films, and Terrytoons have a certain feel and tone in some of their cartoons that makes the violent scenes seem just a little bit more violent than when, say, Elmer Fudd shoots a shotgun right into Daffy Duck's face. Warner Brothers makes no bones about the satiric content of their shorts; you are always aware that it is all a big joke, even when a character does something as dramatic as shooting themselves right through the head. In this cartoon, the violence involved in Mighty Mouse dispatching the wolves was not so jarring at first. After all, it's a little mouse against a squadron of big bad wolves. Even with his great strength and agility, Mighty Mouse would surely face some sort of struggle against these much larger and meaner ruffians. But Mighty Mouse easily takes out these foes -- Nay! He easily smites these villains with a righteous fury, while betraying only the slightest sense of humor in his actions; and it was only after the cartoon was over that I reflected on what I had just seen, and thought, "Holy crap! Did I just see Mighty Mouse murder a shitload of wolves?!" Because we never see any of the wolves actually land after their Mighty bombing, and because the wolves do not show any signs of life, the jury is out on this matter. While I would be shocked if a cartoon studio actually had their star mouse strutting about killing off other creatures, the beer-drowning incident, which has a strange, cold tone to it, still has me wondering.

Though, didn't Mickey Mouse kill seven flies with one blow in The Brave Little Tailor?

The Bear's Tale (1940)

The Bear's Tale (Warner Bros., 1940)
Dir.: Tex Avery
Cel Bloc Rating: 6/9

"What's Little Red got that I haven't got?," sniffs a miffed Goldilocks to an impatient Wolf dressed up in Grandma's clothing. He is obviously awaiting the entrance of his traditionally intended meal, who it eventually turns out is a slightly brassy Little Red Riding Hood, when this little blonde brat (from any story entirely) wanders into Grandma's House, herself having taken the wrong direction in the forest. The Wolf shoos the little miss off, who says the line above and struts off in a mockingly adult female vamp, simultaneously turning up her nose at the Wolf, carrying this pose back into the forest towards the Three Bears' house where she is bound to end up eventually. After all, this is The Bear's Tale. What the hell is the Wolf doing here?

This is what happens when you involve Tex Avery, and also what happens when a fairy tale is retold by the Warner Bros. Animation Department. Whatever was written down by the Grimms and Aesop and C. Perrault and H.C. Andersen is bound to get severely twisted in the hands of the Boys of Termite Terrace. And without fail, it does, this film being no exception. Avery coats the film in traditional storytelling elegance: the backgrounds and sets are gorgeously rendered, the Bears themselves could have stepped out of any storybook, and there are no real comic exaggerations in the film. At least, not the kind that you are used to in Avery films, except when you get to the story. The film always remains deceptively pleasant, and ambles along at an un-Avery like pace (the film often seems as if it were one of Chuck Jones' more laconic early 40's pieces), but there is just enough of a tweak to the storyline that you realize that Mr. Fred Avery is at the lunatic controls.

There is an interesting effect that is used in the film: there is a constantly repeated shot of "the beautiful green forest" (which could easily have dropped out of the film canister of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs) which is used for every single transition scene, with narration repeated ("Meanwhile...", etc.), which it seems is used to jolt the story along and make it seem more rushed than the movie actually happens to be. It is almost a see-saw effect, at least on this viewer, for I get the sensation that the movie is careening forward to some explosive conclusion at the same time that the characters seem to be in no real hurry whatsoever to resolve the story, taking time out for little bits of "actorly" business.

Example: Goldilocks finally arrives at the Bear's House, but just before she goes upstairs, where the Wolf, realizing his mistake at letting an easy piece like Goldie go previously, is waiting in one of the Bears' beds, Goldie receives a telephone call from Little Red Riding Hood. The brassy Red says "Listen, Honey..." and precedes to warn Goldie about the Wolf via split screen (the traditional boundary of which the characters, of course, will violate). Just as you think that Goldie is about to get out of the house, the moppet casually returns to the telephone and checks the change dish to look for any errant nickels or dimes (in a leisurely fashion). She then realizes that she is on camera, and shamefacedly returns to the story.

The Bears are a far cry from Jones' later supremely dysfunctional family unit, who always seemed to cause the most harm to themselves rather than Bugs Bunny or any other situation that confronted them. These Three Bears are decidedly more laid-back and, as it turns out, too frightened of the world about them to ever be any eventual harm to, or even give fright to, poor lost little thieving Goldilocks. The Papa Bear is the most fully developed of the trio, with the booming great laugh of the director himself coming out of the Bear's mouth. The bears take their time with the usual porridge and going-out-to-let-it-cool business, with a couple of cute gags thrown in for good measure revolving around the Little Bear's lack of size. (Of course, the punchline of the film involves both the film's title, and the phrase "...the Little Bear behind...")

I tend to forget about this small, quiet charmer amongst the more crazed, rapid-fire gaggery of much of Avery's output. Whenever I see it, I am astounded by how much I enjoy its for this one simple element: it is that rare cartoon that relies on the cuteness of its characters without coming off as cloying, which is the general result of such endeavors in the hands of mere mortal cartoon directors.

[Editor's note: The text and photos for this article were updated on 10/29/2015.]

The Trial of Mr. Wolf (1941)

The Trial of Mr. Wolf (Warner Bros., 1941)
Dir.: Friz Freleng
Cel Bloc Rating: 7/9

I'm not aware of what sort of punishment there is for perjury in the courts of Cartoon Storybookland, but Mr. Wolf seems to have no fear of the penalty. Even with a heavier punishment, a liberal twisting of the facts seems worth it: the jury is made up of his true peers, eleven other wolves (and one lone skunk, sitting far removed from the rest in the jury box... their choice, not his); the judge himself is of the lupine persuasion, seemingly allowing Mr. Wolf incredible latitude in portraying his case (especially when a stash of weaponry crashes to the floor from Mr. Wolf's coat when the defendant takes the stand); and Little Red Riding Hood herself has guilt literally written all over her Kate Hepburn-esque visage. Eh, why not skip the through-the-teeth jazz and just brazenly lie as loudly as a wolf possibly can?

As somebody who has always thought that cartoon wolves (outside of Disney's Big Bad, who has always creeped me out) have never gotten a fair shake in these affairs, I was hoping that for once, Mr. Wolf wasn't lying. Sheep and pigs and grandmas, BAH! They're all practically begging to be devoured! Lambs with their bleating and prancing about all fluffy and cute; pigs with their cute, curly tails running about practically in the nude (why, a wolf hardly even needs to try and imagine apples spit-roasting in their mouths!). And grandmas? Well, I'm not sure about grandmas, and why anyone would try and eat them. It seems to me that grandmas would be a little tough in the chewing department, and really, in my personal experience, grandmas are toughies who wield shotguns. I think they only get eaten because they are in the way of the real prize: Little Red.

The only problem is that Little Red here is a leggy vixen who weeps and plays it coy to the jury in the courtroom, and in Mr. Wolf's version of the case, she sneaks from tree to tree like cartoon wolves usually do, and our much put-upon "hero" is dressed as a schoolboy with a balloon who skips merrily through the forest, seeking only to commune with Mother Nature. (It's a marvelously laid out role reversal.) Little Red sneers greedily as she seeks to trick Mr. Wolf into arriving at Grandma's house, who, it turns out in this version, is a furrier who's abode is surrounded by giant signs that proclaim loudly both her vocation and impending sales of wolf furs. When the Wolf is finally corralled at the house and rings the bell, Grandma swoops about the place trying to hide every wolf fur that she can; and when the wolf enters, she greets her intended victim with "My, what a beautiful fur coat you have!" There is much violence and chasing to follow, only ending with Grandma's hands about the Wolf's throat. The scene jumps back to the courtroom, where the Wolf swears that if he is lying he should be run over by a streetcar. A streetcar crashes through the walls and runs him over. Mr. Wolf sheepishly admits, "Well, maybe I exaggerated just a little!," and collapses.

In the first Screwball Squirrel cartoon that Tex Avery made, the clearly insane Screwball meets up with a traditional cartoon squirrel named Sammy, who talks a lot like Sniffles the Mouse, and goes on and on and on ad nauseum about how wonderful the world is and how much fun they are going to have blah blah blah, and Screwball puts his arm about his still chattering new pal and walks him behind a tree... and beats the living crap out of him! Screwy only lasted for four cartoons because of his overbearing obnoxiousness, but you've got to hand it to the squirrel: he was who he was. He was born to act a certain way, he acted that certain way, and while he lost his career because of it, he was still a screwball of a squirrel in the end. He never tried to convince anyone that he was anything but an insane rodent, and he fully accepted the consequences of his violently mischievous behavior.

I ran a survey of kids for our magazine recently, and under the question of "What is your pet peeve?," the vast majority of their answers came back as "Posers" or "People who aren't themselves". While I don't think that most kids -- who still haven't decided who they are yet or what they are going to do with their lives -- can legitimately judge as to whether or not someone is "Keepin' it real," it still seems to be a sticking point for a lot of people. Phoniness, whether one can truly detect it or not, is generally despised.

Cartoon wolves: be who you are!!! You don't need to answer to anyone else! Accept the cravenness with which you have been stereotyped! Never stop attempting to devour the innocent lambs and piglets and sweet old ladies that the animators continue to draw in your path! Your role of nightmare villain in the storybook world has transferred culturally and completely into the film world, and it is not going to change anytime soon. So, keep drooling over little girls with baskets of goodies, keep blowing down the houses of straw, sticks and bricks, and keep trying to swipe sheep out from under the sheepdog's watch.

After all, it's the cartoons. You're probably going to get run over by a streetcar eventually, anyway.

[Editor's note: The text and photos for this article were updated on 10/29/2015.]

Little Red Walking Hood (1937)

Little Red Walking Hood (Warner Bros., 1937)
Dir.: Tex Avery
TC4P Rating: 6/9

A Tex Avery modernization (1930s modern, that is) of the Little Red Riding Hood story, with a car-driving wolf hitting on Little Red, portrayed physically as the traditional little girl but with a Bette Davis-type adult voice and attitude, as she walks down a busy thoroughfare. Her shoulder literally ices up cold at his come-ons, and the chase to Grandma's house begins. The wolf constantly runs into Egghead, who keeps popping up whistling in the oddest places carrying a violin case. After the wolf torments the grandmother (though she does have time to stop and place an order for a case of gin with the grocer), the wolf swipes and dons the old lady's clothes in the traditional way and hops into bed. After a twist on the bed scene, Egghead pops into the room one last time. The wolf asks him who he is, and Egghead, pulling a mallet from his case and conking the Wolf out cold, proclaims, "I'm the hero of this picture!" After the film irises out, it reopens to show Egghead and Little Red making out.

Gee, this picture is peachy. Mainly, I enjoy it because it is a defining point for Avery, who would take this same situation and perfect it on his Red Hot Riding Hood pictures at MGM, only he would go all the way and make Riding Hood the most voluptuous female in cartoons until Jessica Rabbit came along, and by default, made the Wolf character a constant walking phallic symbol for the duration of each picture. Here, the relationship is a bit more chaste and still tied to the actual plot of the original story, with the wolf still concentrating on actual "eating" Little Red. Thus, this wolf is not the zoot-suited sharpie of the MGM's, though still dressed up in all his finery, but drawn rounder and more rubbery looking. The picture is almost an early rough sketch of what would come later from Avery. Now that I think of it, most of his Warners' pictures seem to be early rough sketches of what would come later, both from him and from the gang that remained at Warner.

My favorite gag is the lever that the Wolf pulls in his car that is labeled "Automatic Wink." When he pulls it, his rear license, which reads "07734," rolls over and says "Hello" to Little Red Walking Hood. Avery also pulls his much-used "waiting for the audience to sit down" gag, with the wolf and Red waiting impatiently mid-fight for two stragglers to take their seats; and when Little Red confronts the costumed and spectacled wolf in bed, she declares "Grandma, what large optics you have!" and "Grandma, what a large schnozzola you have!" Little Red smacking the wolf with a mailbox rates as a good bit as well. All in all, Little Red Walking Hood is a fun precursor of things to come.

[Editor's note: The text and photos for this article were updated on 10/28/2015.]