Tomorrow's matinee tonight

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This looks like a job... for Superman!



Kee-reist, Clark---why don't you just announce it to all of Metropolis on the electric radio?

This is the third Superman feature released by Fleischer Studios, and it's some pretty weak sauce compared with most in the series. One thing that's odd is that it's really light on dialog; odd because the Fleischers usually give us a heaping helping of unhinged villains chewing up the scenery with their turgid threats and declamations. Here, after seeing a headline about the "largest single shipment of gold ever attempted" on a flashy, coal-fired streamline deco passenger train (?!), we are on our own for most of the feature. Not that it's very challenging to decode, but these cartoons generally spell things out very explicitly for the juvenile target audience. Why has it become a runaway train, for example, instead of just rolling to a stop or---more plausibly---Lois taking over the controls? She's a skilled pilot, after all, as we learned in episode 1. (She also has no problem handling a Tommy gun here.)

The scenery and action are beautifully rendered, as we would expect from the Fleischers. But the physics are mostly awful, especially where Superman is manhandling the train to keep it off the floor of the gorge. Usually, one of the best things about this series is the way the animators convey a sense of mass and kinetic energy through The Man Of Steel's interaction with objects. So even in this weak episode, they do come through for us in the scenes where Superman struggles to pull the train uphill. The sound effects of the train axles help to sell the illusion.

It's fortunate for this gang of gold rustlers that railroad rights-of-way were so wide and drivable in the early 1940s and were so accessible from any stretch of highway. I love the scene where, although the teargas seems to be getting the best of our hero, one of the bad guys panics and just chucks the whole crate of grenades at once. Something else the kids and I used to laugh at: the scenes where Superman pulls the train toward the camera and gets his crotch all up in the viewer's grille. This is not the only episode in which Fleischer animators used that visual point of reference, either.

One throwaway animation effect that looks quite difficult to have rendered is the guard's shadow moving on the newspaper front page starting at about 1:39. Also, at about 7:55 we get a nice architectural view of the Depression-era "government mint" complex, but I wonder why the monumental inscription on the arch faces the building interior.

Billion Dollar Limited (1942, "Superman" cartoon by Fleischer Studios for Paramount Pictures; Myron Waldman and Frank Endres, animators; Dave Fleischer, director), via YouTube, a work in the public domain embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

New Year's Eve

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When Betty Boop sold herself to some 1%-ass mogul in the mid-1930s, possibly Hearst, her life was made for her, henceforth-wise. It looks like she lives in a scale model of Xanadu, in a neighborhood where every mansion even has its own rooster!



This Fleischer Brothers short subject portrays the morning after Betty's birthday party. But I am exercising blogger's license to state that her birthday happens to be 31 December, because first, I'm going for a holiday theme; and second, it's as likely as her having been born on any other day of the year except 29 February. (However, on momentary reflection, I'm thinking she might actually have been conceived on New Year's Eve. That's not a problem, though, since cartoon characters have a virtually instantaneous gestation period.)

Had this cartoon portrayed her 1933 party, it is likely that she would not have awakened alone---there would have been at least one animal in bed with her, and very possibly a spooky clown, too. But this event occurred after 1 July 1934, so our heroine slept alone. Hollywood's golden age of censorship depressed her enough that she put on some weight below the neck and lost some above. Plus most of her spunk (heh heh). Back in 1933, pre-Code, Betty went mano a mano fearlessly with gorillas, skeletons, hungry cannibals, and ogres; but in 1937, she is daunted by the mess her degenerate guests made of her crib. "I'm tired of cleaning things/But I'm tied to my apron strings," she complains. The plutocrat pig Hearst did this to you, baby---run for the hills, Betty! Burn the place to the ground! Call Bimbo and tell him to meet you back at St. James Infirmary!

Too late. Grampy's here. Well, at least he drives a bitchen roadster with four spare tires (just in case!), no doubt one of his original designs. Whatever flows through Grampy's veins, it seems much more effective than a 10% solution of the type Sherlock Holmes employed. Judging by Grampy's reaction to mainlining it at about 4:30, I'd guess a cocktail of mescaline, absinthe, and espresso... on Sunday morning, a few minutes after sunrise!

I think Dave Fleischer might have been trying to sneak something past the Code office at the very end, where Betty sucks down Grampy's thick, foamy head. How about you?

Happy New Year, "gangstas"!

House Cleaning Blues, Betty Boop and Grampy (1937, A Betty Boop Cartoon; Dave Fleischer, Director; Eli Brucker and David Tendlar, Animators; Fleischer Studios), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Saturday matinee

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Come on, you fool! Do you want to get trampled?!?



In my view, Lois Lane is the real star of most of these 1940s Fleischer Studios Superman cartoons. She definitely wears the pants in her little menage with Kent and Superman.

First, she's always chiseling in on Kent's assignment, or stealing it outright, and ends up being the main reporter. (Not sure how Kent even keeps his job at the Daily Planet, considering his apparent lack of enterprise as compared with Lois.)

Second, she's the genuinely fearless member of the cast even if she does end up being humiliated on the dastardly villain's "sawmill" every time (in this episode, put into bondage over a cauldron of scalding, molten steel that the bad guy evidently keeps on the front burner, just in case). Superman needs no courage since he knows that he is inherently invincible.

Third, Lois must be stronger than hell judging by how she keeps her lunch hooks embedded in the robot's steel trapdoor at 3,000 feet while Superman helplessly bumbles off into a web of high-voltage power lines despite his supernatural physical endowment.

For purposes of brevity, I'll leave aside the discussion of intelligence since even a 6-year-old can discern that Superman is a dimwit. Lois is always doing dumb things in these animations, but Kent/Superman is just a dope, plain and simple.

Finally, I'd bet that Lois is a lot of fun behind closed doors. One can imagine her hollered warning to Kent (top of this post) to, in another context, double as an invitation to a night of fun in her own little BDSM dungeon.

Enjoy the animation and the industrial deco settings. I love how the robots slouch when they're deactivated instead of just locking down at attention---much more work to do things the Fleischer way, but the result was superior.

The Mechanical Monsters (1941, "Superman" cartoon by Fleischer Studios for Paramount Pictures; Steve Muffatti and George Germanetti, animators; Dave Fleischer, director), via YouTube, a work in the public domain embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

The Little Theater Screen

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OK, this is for Saturday morning. But pipe down when you watch it---Dad's still sleeping!



I think this is one of Fleischer Studios' best and most diabolical cartoons ever. I can't think of another with so much nonstop visual invention. The only breaks in the action are there to inject suspense or move the anti-plot in a new direction. And the surreal thread that these scenes are strung upon writhes like something that the coroner might have tweezed out of Edgar Allen Poe's brain through a nostril. Except for the appearance of our special canine guest star and the awesome, fetishistic Radio City Music Hall finale.

Yes, they really did show these cartoons on TV in the 1950s, when there was a scarcity of made-for-TV animation. As I've mentioned before, though, Fleischer cartoons were not produced for Depression-era tots... at least not until Hollywood set up the Hayes censorship office and they put a dumpy housefrock on Betty Boop.

As a point of semi-interest, this short was released to theaters 80 years ago last Sunday (24 July).

Bimbo's Initiation, Dave Fleischer, Director (1931, A Fleischer Studios Talkartoon; Grim Natwick, Animator), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

"The Little Theater Screen" was invented by Frazier Thomas.

Saturday Matinee!

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This nut may prove dangerous.



Here's a nice cartoon to let all my babies know I didn't abandon them! This is the very first Superman animated cartoon, dated late 1941, produced by the Fleischer Brothers. Dumb plots told in a setting of gorgeous eye cocaine. Unfortunately, this transfer is "ass," but there are a few affordable DVD collections that are very faithfully restored, and the visual style and animation "physics" are still astounding.

Let's say this cartoon is a parable. What do you think it's about? (Audience participation time!)

Posted quickly; will follow with information on provenance later. RubberCrutch is a busy man these days.

Saturday Night Fish Fry

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Who ever said we couldn't have a multimedia fish fry on Saturday Night? Not me!



This 1933 Betty Boop cartoon from Fleischer Studios has so much going for it that I'm not sure what to start with. Almost always, Fleischer cartoons are about world-class Depression-era animation and backgrounds. But for a short time right after sound was wed to film action, the Fleischer Brothers collaborated with some of the greatest seminal northern jazz big bands to create extraordinary modern art. So I'll start with the music.

Don Redman was one of the giants of early jazz, probably much more important as an arranger than as an orchestra leader. But here he is, with his orchestra, getting top billing before Betty Boop herself in this short. I Heard presents a medley of three Redman compositions (with collaborators) that are all included in an out-of-print 1990 Redman collection called Don Redman And His Orchestra, 1931 - 1933 (1990, Classics 543). My favorite is the opener, called "Chant Of The Weed" (1931), which is based on a very unusual set of changes that quickly alternates between a major key and its relative minor (I think), the minor being remarkably avant garde and the major being a classic, upbeat jazz-age sound. The version in this cartoon is much more intriguing to me than the Classics reissue, which is faster and somewhat mechanical sounding. But in addition to the musical intro, look at all the work the Fleischers put into Redman's backdrop: a theatrical flat of Betty Boop's Saloon (it's called a Tavern in the actual cartoon) replete with live animated cutout cartoon animal heads!

Chant melds into "How'm I Doin' ? (Hey-Hey)," with the voice of Boop, Mae Questel, sharing the vocals with Redman (who also blows alto sax in addition to directing the band). As coal miners go, these fellas are really lucky: their lunch spot is, by night, a Hot Jazz club. The waiter (Redman's voice) advertises La Boop's after-hours shows to the guys, then gives 'em a taste of Betty whilst they feast on species-specific entrees.

Finally, the "story" transitions to the surreal sequence accompanied by the title piece, again with vocals by Redman and Questel. As purposely gimmicky as her voice is for these cartoons, Questel has an impressive mastery of rhythm; listen how she works ahead of the beat like a wired tommy gun during the telephone sequence.

But what you really should do, in my opinion, is just feast your eyes on everything. This world is bursting with action, visual puns, audiovisual synchronicity, violence, and the macabre. And there are plenty of the famous visual hi-jinx that characterized this series before stringent Hollywood censorship began cramping Betty's style in 1934. These include the usual mix of phallic symbols, lechery, and Betty's tendency to lose her clothing at least once per episode. To pointlessly state the obvious, these cartoons were always aimed at teenagers and adults, not the kiddies---like [adult swim] for Depression-era moviegoers.

I Heard, Betty Boop cartoon series, featuring Koko The Clown and Bimbo (1933, Fleischer Studios and Paramount Pictures, directed by Dave Flesicher, animated by Willard Bowsky and Myron Waldman), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.