Jonesing for a lot of Chuck, or the tenth post special · 11:57am Sep 21st, 2012
Charles Martin Jones had no intention of staying in the animation business when he first entered at the Iwerks studio in 1930. Not only would he move through different studios for years, after he left that place, (and work as a sailor on a merchantman) before he joined the Schlesinger studio in 1933, but compared to most of his fellow co-workers, he was more intellectually minded, someone who may have been too good to make cartoons. He was the kind of person with a heavy admiration for Disney cartoons (most Schlesinger employees also admired Disney cartoons at the time, but not as much), thus it’s no surprise that when Jones was promoted to director in 1938, his first cartoon (The Night Watchman) is very much a poor Disney imitation; slow, sentimental, highly detailed, and not much in way of gags. And he would stay this way, making cartoons sweet but often very weak, until the early forties (in cartoons like the Draft Horse and the Dover Boys), probably due to pressure from producer Leon Schlesinger and advice from his fellow directors. But once he reached that point, Jones would start directing some of the greatest cartoons every created over a period longer than any other director (1945-1955), with some of the best animation in cartoons.
What makes the animation in Jones’s best cartoons so effective is its subtleness; the smallest movement conveys so much expression. A good example occurs in the cartoon Fresh Airedale when the cat places a fish bone on the plate of his master (after the cur of a dog has eaten it); instead of a look of concern, the cat has a face of smugness and pride, as if he was smiling that Santa taking note of his good deed. It’s this level of subtleness in the animation that makes the best Jones cartoons worth watching over and over again. In contrast, too much animation these days is lacking in that precision and is often too broad in its movement to be effective. It also helps that Chuck Jones was incredibly draftsman; in fact Jones actually drew his own layouts (the meaning of the term varies from studio to studio, but here it means the starting drawing that the director would give to the animator to start the scene, that is they “laid out” where they wanted to go). And he did a lot of them (the exact number is unclear given Jones’ inconsistent figures). Because these drawings set the cartoon, his animators had a lot more help than did, but at the same time they still had enough freedom to work within Jones’ boundaries. Going back to the scene in Fresh Airedale, part of what makes the small movement so effective is that Jones’ drawings are already so powerful. Other cartoons also show this skill. As the saying goes “there’s nothing subtle about a wink,” but there is a blink-and-you miss it moment in Rabbit Fire just before Bugs says “Rabbit Season.” He slyly winks at the audience to indicate he’s going to mess up the flow, but the real humor of the scene comes from the contrast between Bugs and Daffy. Bugs’ movements are restrained and limited in contrast to Daffy’s, which are wild and all over the place (solidly though), and it is the rabbit that ultimately sets the scene (and dominates it). It was thanks to such people as Ben Washam, Ken Harris, and Phil Monroe that Jones was able to get his cartoons as such. 
Chuck Jones with animators Ken Harris and Ben Washam.
Easily Jones’ most important contributor was his writer from 1946 onwards (although, they did work together a few years before that starting in 1942), Mike Maltese. A skilled gagman, Maltese gave Jones the materials that were just meaty, cynical, and go be expanded upon to greatness (see Fresh Airedale, the Road Runner series, and the three bears amongst others). Maltese was also a skilled actor and that probably helped Jones with his characters. And Jones had a great handling of the characters; he able to create a self-assured Bugs that was neither insane, smug, nor annoyingly cocky (at his best), give a sense of humanlike despair in the coyote, or give Daffy a variety of emotions, amongst many others. It’s these traits that give Jones a leg up over most of his fellow directors. Avery may have been funnier but he was also incredibly unconcerned with character, which is why he’s cartoons are usually hit or miss (if you’re not laughing, there’s not much else to enjoy). Freleng may have had better timing, but his cartoons could feel generic and stodgy. Tashlin was wittier but he didn’t give his animated works a distinct cartoon feel (his techniques feel more made for live-action than for animation). Clampett was able to present his characters at higher energy levels and they easily more vivid and alive than Jones, but his characters often were limited in their moods given they had to be at that high level of passion and could lack depth as a result. The list goes on when look at other studios besides and even go outside the golden age in what they lacked in comparison to Jones, proof that it is entirely possible to create extraordinary and personal works in an environment that screams for formulas and with heavy deadlines (attributes I’m afraid having only gotten worse to the point that Termite Terrace almost comes across as an ivory tower).
Chuck Jones with writer Mike Maltese
Jones wasn’t perfect, though. Part of what helped make his cartoons so good, would turn out to be his greatest liability later on: his ego. Friz Freleng said that, “Chuck Jones brought ego into the animation business.” While that’s definitely an exaggeration, it’s true that Jones had a larger ego compared to his fellow directors and contemporaries. When Jones violated his contract in 1962 (for writing a script with his wife for the film Gay Pur-ee) and left Warners and even before that, it was just a downward spiral there of self-promotion. Reading interviews with Jones can at times be a trial in itself for such reasons. Forgiveness wasn’t his strong suit either, as seen in Jones’ harsh words about Leon Schlesinger (all other directors had mostly positive things to say about Schlesinger), his later attitude to Maltese (in his first autobiography), amongst other people. And even at Warner’s, his cartoons declined as he lost his handle on the characters (his Bugs became far to smug of a character to root for and his Daffy became far too one-dimensionally greedy) and his drawings become weaker. Nothing he did after (I’m including the Grinch here) matched up and he got to the point (in his interviews and his attempted revivals) of being both repulsive and pathetic. None of this should be taken as a sign of dispiriting one’s attitude towards Jones’ cartoons but instead as a reminder that the people who made the works we love were humans and like all humans, they were flawed individuals.
So, why am I talking so much about Jones? Simply, today is the centennial birthday of Chuck Jones, and now would be a good time as ever to talk about one of animation’s greatest directors. Because this is a special event, I hand-selected four cartoons from my four highest tiers as opposed to having them randomly selected as usual. I think these films represent a good array of Jones’ work and show his strengths as a director.
Super Rabbit – 1944
It should perhaps be appropriate to start with one of Jones’ better early cartoons. This cartoon features Bugs playing the role of a super rabbit (a parody of the famous (truthfully, highly overrated) Superman ‘cartoons’) as he battles Cottontail Smith and his horse. Funny at numerous places, and featuring an actual dangerous foe (the biggest problem with Elmer is that he was too stupid and weak to be a threat; he does work as a foil, though), Super Rabbit is a great early Bugs Bunny that's a real pleaser.
Fast and Furry-ous - 1949
This is the first entry in one of best cartoon series ever, the roadrunner and coyote cartoons. Like many famous series, there was no intention to do more than one and perhaps that’s one animation’s greatest ironies: the roadrunner series, one of the most formulaic and quintessential of all chase cartoons, was conceived as a parody of the chase cartoons at the time (as Mike Maltese, the writer said, “…we were trying to a takeoff on chases, because everybody was chasing everybody, including in our stuff”). The difference lay in how the pursuer lost, in most chase cartoons the chased would outsmart the chase-e, while here the predator’s own mistakes would lead to his downfall (this is more true later on than it is in Fast and Furry-ous). That alone might have made the cartoon funny, but Chuck Jones added something more. The coyote is not just a simple predator, he is instead gave someone the audience can relate to; a character constantly frustrated at his failed attempts of catching the roadrunner (as Jones said, “The Coyote is a history of my own frustration and war with all tools multiplied slightly”). One thing that helps this is the character’s design; the coyote is thin and scrawny, while the roadrunner (who for all purposes is pretty much a plot device instead of an actual character) has had most of the cuteness sucked out of him (unlike say Jerry or Tweety). But the real strength comes from the animation in the tiniest reactions of the coyote. To watch the coyote is to not to watch a predator try to get a meal, but instead to see a character in a universe that hates him intensely (it’s cruel enough to injure both his body and pride and sick enough to not to put him out of his misery) constantly fail in his at what has essentially become his mad life goal. I’m not kidding on the mad part, it’s the only reason why he would constantly being chasing after “this” roadrunner.
And thus the question “why doesn’t he just order a meal” is render moot; he’s not chasing the road runner just because he’s hungry but mainly because the crazy coyote has made it his life purpose (now where he gets all the money for the Acme products, I have not frickin’ clue) and to not do so would be out of character. So seeing the coyote is very much seeing someone we know fail at their own crazy goals. And we should laugh at that, just as we should look back on our own silly mistakes and laugh at them as well. Haven’t we all pursued goals in our such intense amount energy that we've lost sight of why we are doing (anyone claims to be completely rational is both a liar and a skunk)? That is the beauty of the cartoon and the series that followed it, one of the few that deep down inside is very much something we have all been like.
Duck Dodgers in the 24th and ½ Century - 1953
A parody of sorts that shows an accurate look at mankind’s ego, vainglory, and mad desire to achieve goals by any means necessary (this is one of Jones’ greatest strengths, I think, his characters could do virtually insane things (see the coyote) and yet it seems like the most natural thing in the world given their closeness with the real world) is the greatness that this cartoon represents. Not only is it funny (Acme disintegrating pistol (funny thing Acme means when something is at it’s most successfully), the alphabetical planets), but it does a great job with the characters (Bill Benzon suggested that Porky works for adults because he shows how to deal with difficult people and for children because he shows that they can prevail over adults).. While I’m talking about this cartoon, no it is not in any way a commentary on the nature of the Cold War, although it’s easy to see why some would see it as such (not that we can’t apply it to real life). Again the animation is top notch for Jones (there’s something to be said about getting great expressions from the Martian, who doesn’t have a mouth). And then there’s Porky’s last line, which I know I’ve used that plenty times in my life.
Duck Amuck – 1953
No talk about Jones would be complete without this cartoon. Yes, everyone has probably seen this or knows about it, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t plenty to talk about. It starts in the most natural way possible, there’s nothing to hint to the audience that anything strange is going to happen. Then all of a sudden the background ends. Daffy is, of course, rightfully perplexed and begs to know what’s going on (in a very calm voice). From there it just gets better and better, leading to a number funny gags (such as when Daffy is changed into a screwball and when his plane crashes). The animation is some of the best for a Jones cartoon, not only is there strong poses (like when Daffy opens his mouth and jungle noises come out) although some of parts have the same high intensity level as seen in a Clampett cartoon (when Daffy finally recovers his voice). Mel Blanc again does a superb job, but unlike so many cartoons with a lot of talking, the cartoon never slows down and the animation doesn’t become literal in its timing or become reduced to Daffy becoming a moving mouth. Equally notable is that Carl Stalling’s score is always supportive but sometimes becomes part of the joke and other times disappears when most needed.
In the hands of a less talented director, we probably would conclude that Duck Amuck would be at the very least a wonderful and funny cartoon. However, there’s more than just that. Let’s go back to the lack of background early in the cartoon. Instead of making it just a simple joke; instead Chuck Jones and Mike Maltese go beyond that. Not only do they change the backdrop to a farmyard instead of the original swashbuckling scenery, they change it again. This is meant to get the audience in the mood that yes this is a cartoon and you should be aware of that (you know something done on paper). Once the unseen animator gets tired with that joke, Jones takes it to the next step; he erases Daffy’s body, again reinforcing the reality that Daffy is a cartoon. It’s done again, next with the voice, the color, the body, and then the dignity; all of these are destroyed, but Jones and Maltese do not eliminate the one thing that would break the cartoon: the idea of Daffy. This is a concept that goes back to the idea of cartoon characters. Is Daffy a voice? Not really, he doesn’t talk and yet still remains Daffy. Is he a design? Again not really, his design is both changed and even removed, but again there’s enough there to indicate that Daffy is still himself. Heck, there are even two Daffys, briefly, indicating that Daffy isn’t unique but they both still are Daffy. So what is Daffy, exactly? He is an idea, a being of mind and emotions that are recognizably Daffy. He’s artificial, and yet by destroying all those aspects, Jones succeeds in creating a character that has more depth and more life than some many fictional characters, that is a character that more real and alive. And that is the beauty of Duck Amuck. The thing about cartoon characters like Daffy is that there are really no set boundaries, a character could look and act differently between pictures (look at a Daffy cartoon from the thirties, or a Woody Woodpecker from two different decades). However, there is an element to them always that keeps something fundamental about the character, some obviously more successful than others. This is thought process can be extended to all kinds of fiction. Characters are not beings of words and pictures but instead of mind, the human mind that draws in its experiences and to put them together. They are not plot devices created to tell a story or a message, despite what you hear, for to do so is the mark of a hack (the writer who does not treat his characters as real things with a mind of their own is doomed to mediocracy and oblivion, this is not the same as being in love with one’s characters). Instead, in the best, there is an emotional continuity both internal in the work the character and between the works of the character. They are alive in their own way, constantly thinking, constantly doing, and constantly different in each moment and essentially the same. One reason why Jones is successful is because even though he exposes the fakeness of some them film elements, he doesn’t use others. For example, there are very few cuts in the cartoon (two of which occur at the surprise at the end), which makes the cartoon feel like one long continuous shot (there are plenty of glides of sorts) and thus does not knock the audience out the of the trip. Even more amazing he’s brief about, Duck Amuck is only seven minutes in length and no a single ounce of back-story for Daffy, proof that it isn’t a necessary element in successful creating strong characters. This cartoon is essentially a very vivid character study, only shorter and funnier than most others are.
It is a strange thing when the characters in a work of fiction seem more real than the people you have known in your life; I get that feeling from Mark Twain’s Huck Finn, Carl Bark’s Donald Duck, Charlie Chaplin’s the Tramp, amongst numerous other characters from various times and from vastly different people. Jones’ Daffy in this cartoon is one the. It’s for this reason that this cartoon will rank so high for me. Duck Amuck isn’t a masterpiece, for such a ranking would too low for it. It’s near perfect, that’s the highest category I can give any work of fiction. It’s no wonder I consider it to be my second favorite cartoon. Wait, second favorite? That’s right, there is one cartoon I love even more than Duck Amuck. It will be quite a bit of time before that film’s time will come.
And there's still plenty of Jones cartoon worth watching. So why not spend his 100th birthday and watch more of the great man's work.
'Duck Amuck' is indeed an incredible cartoon. It's the ultimate break of the fourth wall, because the breaking of the wall is basically all that it's about. You made a good choice to rate it so highly, though I am pretty curious to hear what you consider your number 1 cartoon to be. The others were all really good too, especially the 'Duck Dodgers' one (the disintegrating pistol gag in particular was brilliant). I only know a tiny bit about a few cartoon producers (e.g. Tex Avery & Fred Quimby) such as some of the cartoons they produced, but Chuck Jones sure does seem like he knew what he was doing. Happy 100th birthday to him!
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Sometimes, instead of selecting cartoons from my highest tiers, I consider doing the opposite and getting some from my lowest ones and write, with seeming sincerity, about how great they are (haven't done so yet, but it would give anyone a greater appreciation for the better Looney Tunes and Disney shorts). It isn't too hard to find cartoons made by many of the greats that are bad (or worse) by any reasonable measure, and that includes Jones' early works (not all of his pre-42 films are bad but it's hard to make a case for most of them being good) and all his work from his later years at Warners onwards (watching something like A Connecticut Rabbit in King Arthur's Court is like getting your teeth pulled without anesthesia). It's for this reason I always believe to judge someone on their best work, instead of average (it's also why all the images I chose are from Jones' time at Schlesinger/Warners; I want to show him at his height (the bottom image aside, because that's from his pre-1942 years), even if it his later look is more familiar).
I also remembered that Jones did write to his daughter about how proud he was about Duck Amuck (as well as how it was positively received) and how disappointed he was when it wasn't nominated (it was submitted) for the 1952 awards. So it seems that it being something special wasn't the result of the 1970's rediscovery (that's when interest in old cartoons started, before most where ignored or put down). It's interesting to say the least.
Avery was never given the title of producer (I'm not sure what he was at the Cascade/Tex Avery Studio (I've seen him listed as owner/director/writer) he worked at starting in 1954 (post-MGM); history on that studio and the commercials it made isn't my forte or in my interest). He was mainly a director (and one of the best, despite his limits). I'm afraid we're four years too late to celebrate his 100th.
My interest in animation history is something that's been with me for years. I don't know when I first heard about Jones (I guess 2000 because that's when the Bob Clampett Show aired on CN and he's the first one I learned the name of) but I took an interest in who directed what when I did and expanding on that has been with me since (expect when I stopped watching them for years). I remember also when CN posted its "We'll miss you" tribute when he died ten years ago (amusingly, that day was also Mike Maltese's birthday) and how I "causally dismissed" it when I answered to my mom that I was aware of the event when she later read it in the paper (knowing what Jones had become at the time now, my attitude might have been correct, but it's always bothered me how I acted towards it).
But enough rambling, I still rank Jones as my favorite director of animated films (short or feature), despite his problems. I'd rather watch his works and write about them than anything made today.
I'm glad you enjoyed the selection.