Simon Bar Sinister, Controlling the Weather Since 1965

Simon Bar Sinister, of course, way back in 1965, becomes the one to not only control the weather but also control it from the Moon so he doesn't become hoist by his own soggy petard.

Frankly, we could use this kind of flood-purge in the capital (and the Capitol) today. Bad guys, it seems, are never around when you really need them.

Godspeed, Future Disintegrator

The J.C. WIlber building was built in 1892 and replaced in 1955 by the Tregoweth Brown Building.

The cornerstone of the building, as we know, was the home of Michigan J. Frog, until he was discovered by the nameless, hapless fellow who thought a singing frog would bring him fame and fortune, until near insanity and poverty drove him to hide the frog, case and all, in the cornerstone of the Tregoweth Brown Building.

It's now 2024. The Tregoweth Brown Building is set to be demolished by the ACME Building Disintegrators in 2056, only 32 years from now.

So it's a fair bet that Michigan J. Frog's next handler has already been born.

Godspeed.

As usual, Dennis' response on Facebook is perfect:

[Acropolis, Back View]

I was pleased as punch to find a DVD of Gene Deitch's Tom and Jerry episodes in the DVD bin at Walmart a few weeks ago. Go here for a mostly running commentary.

I was a big Tom and Jerry fan when I was younger, mainly because they had a half-hour show on TV after I got out of school. I didn't know who Deitch was at the time, but his episodes stood out (and not in the bad 1970s episodes way with that stupid, stupid recycled music in EVERY episode). (Yes, I am a cartoon snob.)

What stood out where Deitch's calling cards: Very little dialogue, odd noises, weird situations. I didn't know the word surrealist at the time, and it's a word apparently he didn't like applied to his work, but I think it fits.

I remembered most of the episodes, there were only a few I didn't recognize.

He lived in Czechoslovakia at the time, spied on by the Russians, but given money by Warner Brothers to make cartoons. They picked up a lot of Eastern European animation sensibilities, which made them stand out.

They're still a joy to watch, more than 50 years later.

The Death of Saturday Morning

I’ve seen a few reports this weekend from folks lamenting the death of Saturday morning cartoons.

I tried to whip up some nostalgia and/or angst about the tradition’s passing, but the best I could come up with was this:

(And to be honest, I’ve said this pretty much about TV since 1997 and about Saturday morning cartoons long before that.)

Yes, I spent a lot of time as a kid watching Saturday morning cartoons. But because we’ve never had broadcast or cable TV in our house since we got married (firstly due to economics, secondly due to the lack of compelling programming) the tradition of sitting in front of the tube for hours on Saturday morning never got to our kids.

That’s not to say we don’t watch TV. We do. Just not on TV’s schedule any more – which is part of the reason given for Saturday morning cartoons’ demise. And somewhere in that pile of DVDs and VHS tapes I’ve got some Saturday morning cartoons we recorded live from the air.

But we watch way less TV now than we did as kids, and that’s a good thing. Probably we waste more time on computers than we did back then, but I still think the time spent in front of a screen has lessened. More irritating is to listen to people call Saturday morning cartoons “sacred” or to hear people saying things like this:

It’s sad, though, that an entire generation of kids is missing out on lazy Saturdays filled with excellent cartoons. Replacing them with cheaper, educational content was bound to happen, but a little magic has been lost in the process.

What magic?

Well, okay, this magic. And this magic. This magic came on in the afternoons after school -- but is now derided as racist. As if we didn't recognize that back then. But I recall many, many lazy Saturday mornings doing other things, including playing outside.  Building entire villages out of bricks for our teddy bears. Building entire cities out of clay. And, yes, setting well-supervised fires.

Not that I want my kids setting fires. That seems dangerous, unless well-supervised. And I also don’t want them spending their Saturday mornings in front of the tube, either.

Flame Will Reveal . . . Weird Lyrics

This blog post may be unique to the Internet, for it contains the lyrics (at least what I could interpret) of the song "Daydreamin'" from the Scooby Doo episode featuring The Creeper.

You know, this guy:

 

Why am I taking down the lyrics to "Daydreamin'"? I don't really know. Something brought me here. I think I wanted to hear that typical Scooby Doo "run in a freakin' panic" music, but it's featured only lightly in this chase. Then the song caught my ear, and I was hooked.

The visuals help, of course. Very Hollywood, this:

The old "Running under a haystack" gag! Classic!

So here are the lyrics:

Daydreaming, heads in the sand.

Daydreaming, gee but it’s grand.

I’m in love with an ostrich

All the neighbors complainin’ you see.

But she loves me, can’t help it

if they don’t understand it.

It’s fun to be in love with an ostrich

And if you haven’t tried it, don’t deny it my friend.

‘Cause it’s so much fun to go out in the sun, forget the rest of the world

With your head in the sand.

Daydreaming, heads in the sand.

Daydreaming, gee but it’s grand.

Walkin’ down the street with my ostrich

All the people stare but I don’t care what they say.

She never says a word, she’s an agreeable bird

She takes my worries away.

If you find somebody who loves you

Why are you complainin’ they’re my friends anyway

Just go out in the sun ‘cause it’s so much fun.

Forget the rest of the world

With your head in the sand.

Daydreaming, heads in the sand.

Daydreaming, gee but it’s grand.

Daydreaming, heads in the sand.

Daydreaming, gee but it’s grand.

Daydreaming, heads in the sand.

Daydreaming, gee but it’s grand.

Daydreaming, heads in the sand.

Daydreaming, gee but it’s grand.

Yes, it seems very important to repeat the refrain four times at the end as you fade into the background and the gang regroups to figure out the enigmatic riddle the guard gave them in addition to this paper he gave them.

Here's the song, in all its glory. I'm not sure I appreciated Scooby Doo music as much when I was a kid.



The incidental (or underscore) music in the old Scooby Doo episodes were written by Ted Nichols, son of Greek immigrants, and born in Missoula, Montana, in 1928.

I don't know if he wrote the groovy chase songs in each episode, but I kind of hope he did. Some rather loving but terrible synth versions of his Scooby Doo music here.

From Scott Bradley to Canned Music

Yes, this is a soundtrack to cartoons – to Tom and Jerry, to be specific – but it’s also the sound of pouring everything you’ve got into what you do.

Much like the more celebrated Carl Stalling, composer ScottBradley here pours his soul into the music he creates for these cartoons. The music easily becomes as essential a character as either Tom or Jerry – for which Bradley scored all but one cartoon between 1940 and 1958.

Maybe it’s better to describe the music as the characters’ shadow: frenetic when the characters are going crazy, serene when there’s a pause in the action. Par for the course, you’d say, right? Well, listen to what happened to Tom and Jerry when MGM dropped its music department:

It’s music like Bradley’s and Stallings’ that help make these cartoons what they are – and demonstrate what is missing in much short animated matter made after the studios let their composers and orchestras go to save money.

More importantly for me, Bradley’s music is a reminder that whatever you do, make sure it’s good. If National Novel Writing Month has taught me anything, it’s that I can indeed pound out a 50,000-word novel. But taking that novel and turning it into something to be proud of, well, that’s taking canned music and elevating it to the level of Bradley.

50-Miler

Last summer, we did a 50-mile bike ride with the scouts. I drew two pictures -- recently rediscovered -- to commemorate the event.

Croissant de Quoi?

Disney has redesigned the mouse, as you can see in this new Mickey Mouse short, one of 17 the company will put out starting, well, now.

I'm disappointed.

The art, well, it's fabulous. It harks back to the old, original Mickey, stringy limbs and all.

The story? Not so much.

I've got to give Disney credit in the past for producing shorts that were a delight to watch not only for the art, but also for the story. If this storyline is indicative of the new Mickey, well, I guess I'll pass.

Make Mine Freedom

So my eyes popped open right about 8:29 into this. So how do we learn to work together? We stop listening to those who would rather divide us and then sit on the sidelines and watch the blood flow, for starters.

Hokey Smoke!

They called Mel Blanc the Man of a Thousand Voices, and he made his characters his own.

Maybe June Foray doesn’t have as many voices as he did. But she certainly does some memorable ones who will always be identified with her.



We used to chase each other around the house, imitating Granny doing her little death screech on the violin. I felt so sorry for Sylvester in this one, and really wanted him to catch and eat that bird – until Granny did her death screech. Yikes. And her Nell Fenwick, so innocent, so pure, so able in that goofy hat and with those ruby lips to get Dudley Do-Right into so much trouble.

Now at age 94, she’s won her first Emmy. Seems to me it’s a long time coming.

Personally, I would have given her an Emmy for her Warner Brothers work. Foray’s Granny was at the same time innocent and terrifying, as was her Witch Hazel. It’s these characters – not the bland, boring, yeah he’ll win at the end Bugs Bunny that made these cartoons work. You’ve got to have a good villain. And Granny was villainous, whether it was with her threats or with her broom. And Witch Hazel, well, anyone who can cackle like that has got to be a bad ‘un.

I like what Chuck Jones said of June Foray: "People say she is the female Mel Blanc. Mel Blanc is the male June Foray."

The Hobbit and Mr. Deitch

As cool as Gene Deitch's "Tom and Jerry" cartoons are, I have to think it was a good thing that this version of JRR Tolkien's "The Hobbit" never saw the light of day until now. The story is so altered. It's not the art that bothers me -- I realize this is a scratch film, used to show that perhaps those with the ideas could pull it off. It's nice '60s pop art. But they meddled with the story so much, it's disgusting.

Art for Art's Sake

Do animators do this kind of thing any more?

And by “this kind of thing” I mean animation for the sake of animation, some little bit of the story to actually kind of leave the story behind and allow the artists to create art for art’s sake. Kind of like the nonsensical song-and-dance numbers that showed up in many an old movie before we all got tired of it and became sophisticated and wanted stories to tell stories, not simply be a story interrupted occasionally by song and dance.

I kind of like it. And I kind of miss it.

I keep thinking of what might be contemporary examples – the “Carl and Ellie” sequence from up, the “When Somebody Loves You” sequence from Toy Story 2. While they’re song and dance accompanied by beautiful animation, they’re not exactly the same as what I’ve got above. They’re expository. We get Carl and Ellie’s entire life story in one short sequence; we get Jessie’s backstory. The “Ride” sequence in Cars comes close, but it’s still more of a device to move the end story along rather than a bit put in because the animators and the song writers got together and decided to have a bit of fun.

Psychology!

The first time I saw this cartoon, many moons ago, I laughed my head off. Not because it's a cartoon, but because of the fox's delving into psychology. Loved it. Though I probably didn't understand most of it, I figured that there was something clever going on. And I loved the line: "If ya gotta tell a lie, don't tell a small one. Tell a big one!"

Oh Non, Mon Collier

This isn't as easy to enjoy if you don't speak French, but still, the cartoons are pretty self-explanatory and they're funny to boot. This one is about a poor giraffe that loses its fancy pearl collar, lamenting for, well, you'll see. Then there's the payoff. Excellent.

Oh that poor thief . . .

Here's one if you've ever wondered why your cell phone reception is so bad.

Conscience

Sylvester has a conscience. Do you?

I love this cartoon, and not just for the moral, which is great in of itself. I love the noir feel -- the shadows, the light, the action taking place off the screen while the reaction appears on-screen, especially in the beginning. Plus the slapstick of the stairs being slow squeaky on the ascent but fast squeaky on the descent.

Here's the best line, also very slap-sticky: "I'll give myself up. I'll throw myself up . . . on their mercy." Mel Blanc adds that lice little pause to emphasize the possibility that Sylvester feels like barfing, a good description of a conscience in the throes of guilt as I've ever heard.

This episode is actually a parody of Alfred Hitchcock's 1929 film Blackmail, which has a history of its own. It's considered the first full-length "talkie" made in England. The story is basically the same: A woman commits a crime and tries to conceal it, but at the end is driven to confess. Her confessees, however, don't believe her, so she is set free -- although her boyfriend, a Scotland Yard inspector, knows the truth. Quite a good film.

Aw. That's Cute . . . But it's Wrong!

"It's in Memphis"

Ever since I watched Bugs Bunny on Saturday mornings and Tom and Jerry after school during the week, I've long been a fan of cartoons.

And since King of the Hill, I've been a fan of Mike Judge's cartoons. Hank Hill, and especially Bobby Hill, have always felt to me to be two of the most real and believable cartoon characters ever conceived. And Judge is always willing to reverently skewer everybody, but in that kinder, gentler way that George Bush Sr. would be proud of.

Now, he (Mike Judge, not George Bush Sr.) is bringing us "The Goode Family." Here's a clip:



Now it would be very easy for Judge and company to turn this into a politically correct skewerfest, but from what I've seen they're making their a more complex satire in that not only do we recognize the Goode family as someone we know, but that we recognize the Goode family as part of ourselves. Every one of us believes or adheres to something patently silly, and only rarely do we get climpses of our own silliness. It's in those glimpses that comedy arises, and Judge and crew have proved that they're capable of magnifying these instances to great effect.