Just Clampett for a moment

In 1937, Robert Emerson Clampett was promoted to a director of Looney Tunes, after four years as an animator. While some of his early films are entertaining, many they suffer from not just from the weaknesses of his animators (being an animator on the Looney Tunes as opposed to the Merrie Melodies (when there still was a difference between the two series) meant you probably weren’t as good your contemporaries, but also didn’t need to be as good), but also from his own flaws. Not only was he rather lackluster as a gag writer, there was rather puerile, if not sophomoric, aspect to his films. He always felt that he had to get away with something that pushed the boundaries, something that would surprise his audience, whether that was a gag that might have been in questionable taste (“I’d put in a few extra “goodies” just for the censors. They’d cut those, and leave in the ones I wanted”) or a scene that contained a little too much cruelty in it to be funny (this was a man who came to a party dressed as a penis). With such a high school student like attitude, it encourages a haphazard (although deliberate) approach in filmmaking, and the results can leave one frustrated (and occasionally disturbed). Then in 1941, Tex Avery left Schlesinger and Clampett took over his unit. That change was key to his development. Although he never brushed off all of his flaws, witness the original ending to Hare Ribbin, when he was successfully at minimizing them or turning them into pluses with his natural strengths, Bob Clampett directed some the some of the best cartoons every from 1942 till he left in 1945.

What makes the best Clampett cartoons so great is the high quality of the animation of his characters. Unlike with Chuck Jones’ best cartoons, where the poses carry the emotional weight, the best Clampett cartoons are about the motion between such poses. Seen in a film like Coal Black and de Sebben Dwarfs, there is throughout the film a near constant display of emotion within each scene, but some scenes are matched with an equal appropriate level of energy. When Princes Chawmin’ tries to revive So’ White, he first goes in such utmost confidence that his attempt could be described as a causal smooch as if he was barely trying. When that fails, he reacts with shock and goes in again, this time with more effort. He does this repeatedly, determined more each time than the last, till the final one, where he is so depressed by his failures that he can barely put any oomph into it. All this can be seen from the animation, both in how the prince looks in each scene and, more importantly, how he moves in each scene. In Baby Bottleneck, Daffy is passionate like crazy, but in various scenes the structure of Daffy’s body changes constantly. When he shows up to help Porky with identifying the owner of an egg, his body is angular at parts, while when he runs away, it's rubbery and loose, reflecting at one part, his stiff loyalty and in another part, his desire to slip away. We never lose the idea of what the character like Daffy looks like despite the fact that Daffy looks nothing on a model sheet (which is used to give the animator an idea of what a character looks like in different emotional states) and that he might look different between scenes. And yet despite all the high energy, the animation in the best cartoons is just as subtle (in its own way) as the animation in Chuck Jones’. Characters only burst in high amounts of energy when called for, not constantly, and these moments are meant to reflect the mental state of the character because each changing expression is a mirror inside the character. We never see all parts of these moments such as a when character sprouts a flurry of arms as they frantically build a brick wall with our eyes, but our brain does sense that something is up (it’s always fun to slow down a Clampett cartoon just to see how those drawings work such those greats smears and stretches; as well as the occasional easter egg). That may not sound special, but what’s important to realize is that a lot of cartoons don’t have this. If we don’t know what Sylvester might be thinking in a Freleng cartoon (or for that matter what a pony character is thinking), that’s because there is no animation in there that conveys actual thought (as opposed to the imitation of thought through a stocklike grimace or a “hmmm”, problems that might also originate with design). They are superficial, whereas, despite the rowdy surfaces, the best animation in Clampett’s films gives his characters a great deal of depth.

Bob Clampett (standing) with story men Michael Sasanoff and Hubie Karp and (in back) layout artist Tom McKimson (brother of animator Robert McKimson). For a larger image, click the link to Michael Barrier's page.

Such animation can only be possible thanks animators with incredible skill. People like Jose “Bill” Melendez, Izzy Ellis, and Manny Gould were able to give Clampett what he needed for his animation. Although not necessarily in taste with Clampett (he for one was annoyed by Clampett always trying to get things by the Hays Code), Bob McKimson did provide solid animation. He was later promoted to director, and in many ways, Clampett actually benefited from McKimson leaving. For one, the rather realistic animation of McKimson was rarely what was needed for Clampett’s cartoons. By far the most important animator for Clampett, in terms of making his cartoons, was Roderick Scribner. It was Scribner that suggested the Litchy style (based off the newspaper strip Grin and Bear It by George Litchy) that was adopted in Coal Black (Scribner also did the layouts for that cartoon) and would be applied to the later cartoons that followed. His style can be seen in both in Prince’s attempts in Coal Black and Porky and Daffy on the conveyor belt in Baby Bottleneck. It’s his animation, more than that of anyone else in the unit, that gives the Clampett cartoons the emotional vividness needed. He was to Clampett what Mike Maltese was to Chuck Jones, people who could have good things but extraordinary things without the other.

Animators Rod Scribner (sitting) and Manny Gould, for a larger image, click the link to Michael Barrier’s site

Such animation carries a huge amount of weight that it renders the writing and the gags besides. A film like Baby Bottleneck has a very unexciting storyline (Porky and Daffy are responsible for making sure the delivery of babies runs smoothly) and not one that is very well structured (it is far more premise than plot) with a variety of parts that in many ways seem pointless. Yet, Clampett and co. were able to use that to their advantage. If the focus of an Avery cartoon was on the gags or in a Jones one, using the gags to reveal the inner life of his characters, Clampett’s cartoons said, “To hell with the gags, the good stuff comes from the characters being themselves.” Clampett’s best films aren’t so much funny as they are exciting and surprising; you don’t laugh at the gag (if there is one) after Bugs has finished watching the footage of his loss to Cecil in Tortoise Wins by a Hare, you laugh at the way he reacts to it from the seething anger that explodes into a violent rage to the instantly calm “and I will too” as he regains his composure. Basically, you enjoy for the acting. And acting is really what animation should be about.

Good things do have to come to an end though. When an opportunity came up elsewhere, he left Warner Bros. in May 1945 (during his last few months he was also not under contract with the studio). Moving on without the animators that made him great, Clampett never left his name on anything really worth celebrating, whether it be a cartoon he directed for Republic, the cartoons he wrote for Screen Gems, or the two TV shows he produced and got for fame for a time, “Time for Beany”, a puppet show, and its animated successor, “Beany and Cecil”. Like with Jones, I’ve grown frustrated with the man in his later years. He wouldn’t bad-mouth anyone like Jones, but he was in his own, just as much a self-promoter. Reading an interview with him can be tiresome just trying to ignore every obvious piece of misinformation (Clampett had a bad tendency to see himself at the center of the Schlesinger universe, when that was rarely true; what made it painful was that it was more naïve than outright lying).

But just because he fell in his later years, doesn’t mean it’s worth getting too upset about. All humans are imperfect, and Clampett was no more or less so. If their work is good enough, then it’s worth praising. And today, if he were still alive, Clampett would be celebrating his one hundredth birthday. Thus, it’s a sublime time to talk about the man and his cartoons. Given the fact that he was the first director I learned the name, and thus helped push my interest into animation history, thanks to the Bob Clampett show, I’m particularly excited about this one.

Below, I’ve hand selected four cartoons that he directed during his years at Schlesinger and Warner Bros. These films, particularly the last two, should give you an idea of Clampett’s skills as a director and how he used his animators. Don’t forget to full screen.

Porky’s Party – 1937

This is one of the better of black & white Looney Tunes, not just by Clampett. For one, the animation isn’t quite as bad, probably because he still had Chuck Jones in his unit. Because of that, it’s possible to enjoy the madness of this cartoon even more. Porky hosts a birthday party for himself, and his guests include a “so awfully silly” Goosey and a fast-talking, squeaky voiced, easily irritated, unnamed penguin. Not only are Porky’s guest obviously crazy when we first see them, but they are caught in situations that are even more wild, such as when a silk worm (given by Porky’s uncle) becomes sew crazy (pun intended) and caught in the ice cream. The craziness then breaks loss from its asylum when Porky’s dog Black Fury, having drunk a hair tonic of 95 % alcohol (imagine if Lucy was doing a commercial for this instead of Vitameatavegamin), gets mistaken for a mad dog. I’m given a lot away, but none of this should affect one’s enjoyment of this cartoon.

You’ll notice that even though Porky is in it, he really doesn’t have much of a role (that is there aren’t a lot of funny moments with him) and feels like an obstacle. That’s because Porky had to be in every Looney Tune starting around 1936 until 1941 (this was one thing that seperated Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies), and let’s face it, he’s not a very good character, being nothing more than a cheerful pig that stutters. Any director stuck with the pig often had to work around him just to get to what they wanted to work on.

The Gruesome Twosome – 1945

Competing for a cute little pussy…. cat, two felines (one based off the actor and comedian Jimmy Durante) try to get her a little bird. However, the bird they settle on is little pink thing, Tweety. And he is more than a match for the two tabbies, whether or not they disguise themselves as a pantomime horse (I really don’t know what that was to supposed to do).

I talked about how Clampett’s cartoons can be cruel at times, and this is cartoon is an example. Tweety isn’t the sweet innocence of the Freleng pictures, this one is malicious and unhindered by the thought of causing physical pain to his adversaries. He is not a sympathetic character.

But I like it a lot. Not only does this have one my favorite lines from any cartoon, I just enjoy the idea of Clampett’s Tweety; that something so small, cute, and seemingly helpless can actually hide a devious little evil inside. And that’s pretty funny when you think about it.

Book Revue – 1946

The second Merrie Melodie (Smile, Darn Ya, Smile!) contained one notable bit. During the title song, the advertisements on the street car came to life and began to sing it as well. That gag would be the origin of a series of cartoons where the advertisements, characters from books, and the like would come to life. The idea came from Bob Clampett, who said he was inspired while riding home on a streetcar. Thus it’s rather apt that he directed the last cartoon that used this idea, Book Reuve.

Book Revue doesn’t have much in the way of plot, or for that matter structure. Early on, it harkens very much to cartoons such as You’re an Education, with the focus being on pop culture (from celebrities like Frank Sinatra to radio and film like the Aldrich Family), and the latter parts of it, once Daffy comes on-screen, isn’t really any better organized. Not of this really damages the cartoon, again the joy comes from how everything is animated, specifically Daffy. Here from his soft-spoken but broad caricature of singer Danny Kaye (animated by Robert McKimson) to his bursts of energy to his scat singing to warn red riding hood about the wolf (and his reaction when said wolf is salting his leg). All this makes Book Revue a more exciting cartoon than it would seem on the storyboard. Again, there are some good gags, but the real joy comes entirely from the animation. That alone makes Book Revue one of the best animated films made at Warner Bros.

The Great Piggy Bank Robbery – 1946

After waiting what must be an eternity for him, Daffy’s mail arrives and he carries away part of it to find out “what happened to Dick Tracy”, the title character from the popular newspaper comic from the time. After perhaps the most dramatic reading ever of a comic, Daffy leaps into high-tail gymnastics about his hero, so much so that he literally punches himself out and dreams that he has become the detective, “Duck Twacy”, where he so solve a series of piggy bank thefts. Normally I’d say from there the fun begins, but actually it already started since the title screen. For one, compared to Baby Bottleneck or Book Reuve, The Great Piggy Bank Robbery has a more structured storyline. The lack of it doesn’t hurt either one of the other two cartoons, but because Daffy is always the focus in this film, the gain is rather substantial (we don’t have to wait for this wonderful character to appear). Just as great is the soundtrack, whether it be Carl Stallings’ wonderful score (which as always builds up the excitement such as when Duck Twacy looks for clues or is being chased) and Mel Blanc does a superb job whether he’s Daffy or any of the other characters on screen. There’s also the gags in this cartoon as well, not only do they make fun of the source (Daffy’s opponents are very much parodies of Chester Gould’s villains (his own Flattop makes a cameo) from the slippery Neon Noodle to the effacing Rubberhead (“I’m going to r-r-r-r-r-rub you out, see.”) from their crazy designs to their names), but also other detective based work such a run in with Sherlock Holmes, who looks a bit like Basil Rathbone, the actor who played Holmes at the time.

That sounds all great and fun, but there’s more to the Great Piggy Bank Robbery than that. First watch the opening sequence, look at Daffy and the way he moves and acts as waits for his mail. Does that remind you of anyone? It should, mainly it should remind you of yourself. I can easily relate to these moments as I waited for any number of subscriptions of I had when I was younger (oh, Lego). You might think what’s so special about that, lots of fiction does that. True, but Daffy’s obsession (there’s no other word for it) for Dick Tracy, whether it’s his reading of the comic, where he freaks out when his hero’s in danger, or his exuberant acrobatics after he finishes it, wishing to be his hero are something more. Think of it like this; Daffy is very much like us. We’ve all reacted to works of fiction like this since we were young; there’s always that one work that means a little more to us than most others. Although we might think Daffy is probably more zealous than most of us, it would be false to claim that it’s an extreme. The extension of that obsession continues into his dream; we’ve also wanted to enter that world of that one special piece. Heck it’s why we write stories in general, it’s due to our passion. It’s that relationship that gives Daffy an air of familiarity by showing part of us, particularly to a side of us we often don’t recognize (and perhaps almost as often don’t want to admit having) of having we’re our enthusiasm might be a little too extreme. We all have that little fanboy inside us. And thankfully, it doesn’t disparage that part; like a lot of Looney Tunes (but unfortunately, unlike too much fiction out there that’s tries for greater depth) the Great Piggy Bank Robbery is about saying who we are, rather than who we should be.

None of this would be possible to see without the animation that Clampett was to get out his animators. Rod Scribner (the stuff with the phones are one part done by him), Manny Gould (he does the scene where Daffy knocks his lights out), and co. give Daffy a huge amount of energy at the appropriate moments that provides him with a vivid existence. Despite all the talking (a dangerous thing in animation), the timing never becomes literal and instead only serves to increase the cartoony aspect given the size of Daffy’s overconfidence. However, if you look close enough, you realize that Daffy doesn’t really look the same between scenes. At various points Daffy takes on different shapes and sizes; when the ginormous Mouse Man comes out of his hole, Daffy literally shrinks down into size but also takes upon a different appearance (looks more a child) from the previous scene where he took a far more serious, adult like look (perhaps it’s because of the title, but I see a bit of the drawing of Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy in that moment). But there is always something that keeps us thinking that Daffy is always the same character despite looking different between the various scenes. Friz Freleng complained that Clampett’s characters never looked that on the model sheet; but that’s the point in many ways. Real people don’t have stock expressions for this; we don’t look like the drawings we see in model sheets or for that matter in how to draw books where they’re various stock facial expression. And that factor is what separates artists from practitioners because one good rule about art is that if you attach a label to a facial expression (or at the very least a simple emotion), it shouldn’t be used. Rembrandt understood that, Michelangelo knew it, Walt Kelly got that, and Bob Clampett got it at their best. These people knew how to be at once undefinable without being ambiguous.

Like I said, Daffy in this case is very much like us. Actually that’s not entirely true, I think he’s more real than most of us our. Like the above, there are just moments were we can look inside of Daffy’s soul, and see a bit of ourselves and yet still see someone unique. It’s strange feeling when a fictional characters is like that, but that’s true for me in this cartoon. Fiction, at it’s best, can create character’s that are more open to us than real people can because we can see sides of their lives that we never could for those we meet. That’s true in Huck Finn, in City Lights, and in Duck Amuck, and it’s true here. Like all of them, I never get bored watching this, no matter how times I have before, and I always discover something new. For me this is one those works that I think of as “near perfect”, the highest rating I could ever describe a work of fiction. In fact, I would go as far as to say that this is my favorite cartoon of all time, if not my favorite piece of fiction in general. So if we ever curious about that question, well know you know.

And there’s plenty of other Clampet cartoons to watch that are worth your time. I’ll be spending most of my day (after I finish packing when I leave college tomorrow) watching this director’s cartoons and I recommend that you all do the same.