Bunny Mooning (1937)

Bunny Mooning (A Max Fleischer Color Classic, 1937)
Dir.: Dave Fleischer
Animation: Edward Nolan and Myron Waldman
Cel Bloc Rating: 5/9

OK, it's not so much that I hate weddings. I do not begrudge anyone the opportunity to get married if that is what is important to them, though I do ask that young loving couples be a little sensible and not put themselves or their loved ones into a ridiculous amount of debt just so a pair of people can get laid "legally" later that evening. I find wedding culture nonsensical to the extreme, and it is one of many traditions of which I would be just as happy to not be invited. You're getting married? Great... now, wear a condom or have your nuts jarred in formaldehyde after the first couple of brats. Let's not be popping young out like friggin' bunnies.

Speaking of bunnies and weddings, there is a Max Fleischer Color Classic cartoon called Bunny Mooning, and though nowadays one would hope that such a title would be offered up on the Playboy Channel (does that piece of crap station still actually get viewers?), as this film was released in 1937, it is most likely going to actually have something to do with bunnies of the fur-bearing, twitchy-nosed, and hoppy-legged type. And if you think cute little bunnies holding a wedding are going to get me change my mind regarding the damnable events, then you've obviously been smoking the baby's breath, Cheech.

This is what you get when a bunny is your friend: cuteness unhindered by any rational thought. On a giant moonlit mushroom, a bunny boy cuddles with a bunny girl, and offers her a 1-karat ring, which is actually a carrot on a ring, which she accepts. I assume that it is about twelve grueling, money-draining, nerve-wracking, ball-tightening, wits-ending months later, but soon every hand belonging to every animal in the forest is grabbing cutesy invitations (I wonder who did the printing? Note: Need to check on that...) from a stack of leaves hanging from a tree. They read: "WEDDING: Jill and Jack Rabbit will be married in the Woods at Tree O'Clock. This will Leaf you in." Ah, isn't that punny and sweet? (Note regarding the note before: Need to check with that printer to commend him on this.)

Soon, a song begins as the animals of the forest — and judging from the wide array of African animals on display, I would guess that the Dark Continent would be the location, but it does nothing to explain the moose that we meet in a little while, so it is more likely it is a general Animal Land type of fantasia — make their preparations for the party:

"Everybody's getting
ready for the wedding!
Oh, they're so excited!
Everybody's getting
ready for the wedding!
They've all been invited!"

(There are more lyrics, but I couldn't care less about figuring them out or writing them down...)

We first see a barber pole in front of a shop, where the winding stripe on the pole is provided courtesy of an employed snake, or a series of employed snakes, since the pattern repeats over and over again. Inside the shop, an elderly ostrich buzzes short the quills on a fussy porcupine; a lion (in a striped shirt that gives it the partial look of a tiger) has its razor-sharp claws honed down on a grinding wheel; and the aforementioned moose asks for a "poi'menent" whereupon hot curlers are dropped on her antlers and, when raised, tight little curls decorate the ends of each point. (She may be a deer, but her face is more like a moose's, as is her rack, but the problem there is that female moose do not grow racks.) Other animals about the forest prepare themselves to look their best, too: a hippo applies makeup to her face, using a paintbrush to coat her mouth with a generous dollop of lipstick, and then puckers up to complete her mission; a crocodile brushes the sharp teeth making up his infamous smile; and a well-bred giraffe affixes his spats and tab collar, though when he fixes his tie, several other successively smaller collars pop about to cover the length of his neck.

Mr. Bunny calls his beloved to tell her that it's "tree o'clock", and he does this by dropping a coin in an elephant's trunk, and then the pachyderm opens his mouth to reveal the telephone. His intended tells him she is ready, though she actually has a couple final adjustments to make. She puts on her false eyelashes, and then her stereotypical black maid of a bunny fusses with her headpiece. The bride complains about the length, and her maid proclaims, "Don't worry, honey! I'll fix dat!" and she snips the offending piece in half with the aid of her ears, which shear the fabric like scissors, while the maid chuckles. Mr. Bunny arrives to escort her, and the happy pair skip and "la-la-la" their way to the ceremony. (So much for not seeing the bride before the nuptials.)

The guests have already arrived, and there is a great array of gifts set out on incredibly long tables, with about fifty or sixty of the gifts being several sizes of baby chairs. (Hmm... I wonder why? What could they possibly be implying about bunnies here?) A hippo carves a slice out of a cake, and then eats the rest of the cake instead. Mr. Cow tries to dip into the punchbowl (which is most likely spiked with something), but Mrs. Cow catches him and angrily "cows" him with "Mmmmm-ox!" (I guess his name is Max? Or would the cow equivalent be Mox?) A monkey grinding a music box with his tail accompanies a chicken who clucks the wedding music, and the resulting cacophony brings tears to the eyes of the bride's mother. At the close of the song, Mr. Cow takes another try at getting some punch, but is again thwarted by his “butter” half. (Yes, my own pun is clearly intended...)

The peacock minister takes the stage to perform the ceremony, and a monkey uses his tail to play The Bridal Chorus on a row of bluebells growing in a flower box behind him. A choir joins him in the brief section of song as the bunny betrothed jitter their way down the aisle to a slightly more swinging groove. The minister then speeds them through the reading, and finally, the bunnies kiss (cutely, of course). The wedding is over, but not without a word from our sponsor! The peacock turns around and displays, instead of his usual feathery glory, an advertisement reading "BUY BABY BLOOMERS AT BIMBLE'S BASEMENT"! (Apparently, these bunnies are going to be very, very busy...)

Like most weddings, this one also leaves me cold. Sure, I guess that I feel happy for the couple, but why did I need to be here? If it were a little jazzier or a tad more swinging, I would probably have a better time with Bunny Mooning. Cuteness is as cuteness does, and sometimes it is merely the theme that determines whether I am willing to go along with a too cute premise. I had no problem at all with the honeymooning and far livelier and grittier (though still cute) couples in Fleischer's Dancing on the Moon [reviewed here], so don't think that I am just using this cartoon as a connubial punching bag. It's just that Bunny Mooning, except for a handful of amusing moments (I especially enjoy the barber shop series, and the giraffe is swell, too), the show is just a little too underwhelming to hold my interest in repeated viewings.

As for my pronounced despising of weddings? It's not so much weddings, but parties in general that I tend to not enjoy as much as other people. I am better in groups of four, five or six people; larger parties, I tend to wander off (I don't know why!), find a quiet spot, perhaps write a little in a notebook, and if I can find someone off adopting a similar non-social attitude, I will have a nice conversation with them. But the party itself? Not my thing, people. Even with my best friends surrounding me (more on this in a second), you will notice me eventually drifting off from the group at large, and finding a quieter place to disengage myself from the proceedings. This happens at Halloween parties (purportedly my favorite, which they are), Christmas, Thanksgiving, and even cast parties, of which I have been to far too many to count, and even in the ones where I am involved in the setup, I will eventually lose myself, often going home at the earliest possible convenience.

In late July, Jen and I have to fly to Texas for the wedding of our very close pal Bubba. (Yes, I know a "Bubba", but it's a nickname, not a birth name. The boy has even posted on here.) I may hate weddings and I may hate Texas and I may not relish the thought of going there in July, but I'm going to the wedding. It's Bubba. He's one of my closest pals; he's one of my brothers; he's part of my gang. Sure, I've groused a lot about having to go, but it's the same way that I complain about everything in life. At work, I am given impossible projects, and I yell and bitch and throw things... and then I figure out how to get it done. It's just the breed of cat that I am. So, I will be at Bubba's wedding. Brothers stick together, and I am proud that he finally cracked down and finished grad school, got a great job, and met a swell girl. As long as she's good by him, I'm all for his getting hitched. But, there will be a point in the wedding when I will just disappear for a good chunk of the time. It's the way that I am.

As the Mighty Mighty Bosstones said, "I guess I really don't know how to party..."

[This article was updated with new photos and edited on 11/24/2015.]

Dancing on the Moon (1935)

Dancing on the Moon (A Max Fleischer Color Classic, 1935) 
Dir.: Max Fleischer
Animators: Roland Crandall; Seymour Kneitel
Cel Bloc Rating: 8/9

There are shots in Dancing On the Moon alone that make the entire Max Fleischer Color Classics series worthwhile. Long revered by cartoon fans for their unique visual depth, but top loaded with overly sentimental pap and cutesy pie characters, the Fleischers’ desire to match Disney's Silly Symphonies led to stagnation in the story department, and there are very few films in the series that actually approach the self-described "Classics" label. But everyone has their favorites in the series; I can quickly name three that I have adored for years, not so much because they are technically perfect cartoons in all categories, but merely because they are terrific (sometimes scary) fun and have held up for me over the years: Cobweb Hotel, Small Fry, and the 1935 film I am discussing here, Dancing on the Moon.

And as I said, there are shots that sum up that magical genre of science-fiction fantasy equally as well as any major film in the same genre. I'm not speaking of the “science” in so-called “science fiction”; I am talking about the fiction part: that dreamlike fantasy element that makes us eager to journey with Flash Gordon in his wobbling tin ship to battle evil galactic emperors; that causes us to wish we could leap a half mile into the clouds like John Carter on Barsoom; and which makes us long to catch a rocket and fly to the moon, just like the honeymooning couples in this film. Maybe Georges Méliès got to the place first cinematically in Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Voyage to the Moon) in 1902, but I have long felt that several of the scenes in Dancing are equally as memorable, if not also equally unlikely in conception.

The very first shot in the film is one of those memorable images. It is not a drawing of a rocketship, but rather one of the Fleischer Studio's ingeniously constructed three-dimensional props, which is mounted on a ramp pointing towards the skies. It is a dark and beautiful moonlit night, which is a good thing, since the moon is exactly where this rocket is heading, and it is supremely fortuitous to have a destination with itself as guide. The rocket is exactly the sort of vehicle one should wish to have for a trip like this, not that it could actually make it to the moon in reality, but, because this is a fantasy journey, it is the space-fantasy ideal of a Luna-bound rocketship. It is therefore perfectly suited to take the romantic-minded there, as well.

While the ship is festooned with signs offering a "Honeymoon Express to the Moon" and "Tonight - Dancing on the Moon - One Dollar Per Couple,” the leonine pilot, resplendent in captain's hat and coat, steps out of the side-hatch and sings his pitch to the couples with voice a-roaring and delightfully (like much of the singing in this film) off-key:

"Dancing on the Moon,
Your girl in your arms!
Far away from all the crowds,
Up above the silvery clouds!”

Then a line made up of willing couples strolls along toward the ship, gaily sing the second verse:

“Dancing on the Moon
With you in my arms!
Flying through the little stars,
Venus, Jupiter and Mars!"

The bridge to the song arrives courtesy of a recently wed bovine couple, who clutch each other lovingly as they croon:

"We'll soon be on the milky way,
Please don't hesitate
To close your eyes and sway
We're going to the pearly gates!"

A pair of adorably rotund penguins waddle up to finish the tune:

"Dancing on the Moon,
With you in my arms!
And our hearts will hum a tune
When we're dancing on the moon!"

Captain Lion greets each couple as they enter the ship. After pairs of honeymooning seals, elephants, and the just introduced penguins climb in, we are shown a frantically hurrying alleycat couple, who are obviously worried about making the ship on time. The tomcat practically drags his beauteous mate through the air behind him by the arm. There is a cut back to the ship, and after the giraffe and bear couples enter, the captain climbs in and the door starts to close behind him. The cats scurry through the darkness, desperate to catch the rocket, and when the door is nearly closed on the vessel, the groom leaps inside just in time, his hand still clutching the paw of his beloved, who dangles above the ground. The ship shoots up the ramp, the groom cat's grip slips, and his new wife is left on the Earth, angry and grousing at her mate. He promises "I'll be back soon, Wifey!”

It is in the ride through space that the film truly fulfills its fanciful promise. A shot through a portal in the rocket's nose allows us a spectacular, nearly 3D head-on view of the moon, with the cat pacing about sadly in the foreground, that I feel is the equal of many similar shots in more famous live science-fiction films. As the little cat plays a pitiful and lonely game of solitaire, the numerous couples snuggle and cuddle on a series of couches, and in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Love-bug, kiss each other shyly.

I haven't mentioned the fact that there is no mention of the lack of gravity in space, and it seems a silly thing to mention, when the animals next stick their heads out of the portholes on the ship, and therefore, break a handful of other scientific laws in the process. Who wants to worry about a body-exploding vacuum when you are on your honeymoon? Unless you are Tom Savini, no one does, and so, just do away with the glass on those windows from the start, and the laws of science will just have to adjust accordingly.

The animal couples stick their heads out into space and sing the title song again, this time only the second verse (with a slight variation in the first line) and the bridge. When they mention the various wonders of space, we see Venus, Jupiter, and Mars, with statuary of their representative gods displayed on their surfaces; likewise, as they sing of the Milky Way, a line of stars and cows drifts through the heavens. At last, the moon is fast approaching, and from the nose of the ship we get a P.O.V. shot with the moon dead ahead. As the ship prepares to land, a face appears on the surface of the moon and cheerfully greets the vessel with a very Kate Smith-like "Hello, everybody!"

When the ship finally lands, the couples head eagerly past a sign reading "Honeymoon Lane" leading into a wonderland of heart-shaped arches. The now stag groom cat mopes his way over to a moon-rock and sits down, bemoaning his loneliness and missing his beloved. The couples all find individual roosts in which to pitch woo to each other. The seals say “Kootchie kootchie koo!" to each other, and slap each other playfully; however, the slaps get harder and more competitive each time, and the cooed endearments harsher and meaner, until at last, Mrs. Seal wallops her mate hard enough to send him backwards onto the ground.

The giraffes wrap their necks about each other, and at the base of his wife's neck, Mr. Giraffe points out that "This is a good spot for necking!" (Oh, how shocking! My, my...) His wife's voice purrs out like Mae West and bids him to "Come up and see me sometime," which he does, and they do indeed neck with each other. Elsewhere, the cow playfully rings her bell each time that her bull plants one on her lips.

Mr. Bear launches into another verse of the theme song, as he waltzes about with his beloved. She picks up the second line, and then both complete the verse in tandem:

"Sway to the rhythm of my heartbeat!
There is nothing quite so heavenly
as the stars above
to a pair that's so in love!*
Honey, I just seem to be..."

Then, all of the couples join the bears in singing the first two verses of the song again, and they all dance hand in hand, revolving in time across the surface of the moon. Their dance leads them back towards the ship, but as they do, the sad little groom alleycat (who just moments before was entertaining himself with a game of cat's cradle) does a modified shuffle during a swell trombone solo, while spinning about almost in slow motion. (On a commentary on the Somewhere in Dreamland DVD, animation historian Jerry Beck mentions that it is probably the first version of Michael Jackson's "moonwalk" dance, and he is probably right). All of the animals climb aboard the ship for the return trip to earth, and the ship sputters its way into the void and leaves one magnificently filmed 3D orb for another. The ship lands, and the participants are greeted by a flying line of storks, each carrying a baby animal in a bundle.

It is this point where we get confirmation that "dancing on the moon" means far more than just actual dancing upon the moon, and makes it clear that the Fleischer boys apparently must have caught a previous rocket trip to the Planet of the Ribald Euphemisms. It turns out that "dancing on the moon" is somewhat akin to the old "submarine races" line on Happy Days; only here, once you "dance on the moon," you are greeted with a bawling child on your return from the heavens. The elephants receive a pachyderm child, as does each animal couple, etc. All except Mr. Alleycat, who is told "No!" by the stork, because after all, the cat was making like Billy Idol and only dancing with himself, and that is no way to end up with a kid. Mrs. Alleyat is not happy with this, either, and she pummels her husband on his return as the film fades out.

This film is truly endearing, and only those with the hardest hearts can resist its charms. While I am notorious amongst my friends as a hater of weddings, I have no problems with the act of marriage (for I am a great believer in romance); likewise, while I despise the crazed baby culture in which we seem to exist and on which we dote, I have nothing against those who wish to sensibly bring a reasonable amount of offspring into the world. So, it's all cuteness and light, filled with an enjoyable 1930s tune with a catchy refrain (which has sunk into my head for the last week), and some deep and memorable shots of rocketship fantasy gone mushily romantic. Sigh...

(This is the point where my girlfriend will remind me of how much of what a 13-year-old girl I can be...)

RTJ

*****

And in case you haven't seen it:

*Update 8/9/07: I initially asked for help with this line, as after about 6,000 rewinds (figuratively), it still made little sense to me. Barliesque and I had a conversation about it in the comments, where he thanked me for helping him with his own transcription, and where he recommended a solution to the "stars above" line. I had erroneously placed an exclamation point at the end of the preceding line, which made the following one make no sense to me. I have changed it according to his line of thought. Thanks, Barliesque! - RTJ]

[Note: This article was updated on 12/26/15 with a couple of text changes and new photos. Also, the girlfriend I mention in the text is now my wife. Though we will not be “Dancing on the Moon,” at least not to create the results shown in this film. And she still delights in reminding that, from time to time, I am a 13-year-old girl.]

Box Car Bandit (1957)

Box Car Bandit (A Walter Lantz Cartune, 1957) 
Dir: Paul J. Smith
Cel Bloc Rating: 6/9

Dapper Denver Dooley: Walter Lantz's version of Peg-Leg Pete, Bluto, and Yosemite Sam, all rolled into one. Dark of eye, pointy of head, scruffy of chin, quick with a gun, and mean and devious as a snake (and by this I mean not to denigrate all snakes, just the mean and devious ones). He is trouble on the hoof; his horse's hoof, that is, when his horse allows Dooley to actually ride him.

In Box Car Bandit, released by Walter Lantz in 1957, Dapper Denver Dooley (or DDD as I will call him off and on from here on out) is doing what he does best: plotting a robbery. At the beginning of the film, a camera pans down a telegraph pole, rests a moment on a wanted poster for Dooley, and then sweeps to the bottom of the pole to show Dooley and his horse attempting to intercept a telegraph message via the horse's use of headphones.

"What does it say," Dooley growls impatiently. The horse (an unexpected and underused source of yuks in this film) yells annoyingly, "IT SAYS DIT-DIT-DIT-DOOT-DIT-DIT-DIT-DIT!!!" It would be one thing if the horse just said it this loud because he was wearing headphones, but he says it to Dooley in an extremely pushy and obsequious manner, and it is all the more funny for his doing it that way. It produces nothing but seething rage in Dooley, but then they retrieve the actually message: a shipment of gold bullion is coming through on the next train. The plot is set.

But it is sure no certainty. Sadly, for Dooley, Woody Woodpecker is the conductor on this train. (I'm sure there is a missing film somewhere that shows Woody running the previous conductor, probably played by Wally Walrus, out of this job.) Woody is shown gleefully sorting the mail for drop-off at the next depot, and then the film cuts back to DDD. Dooley and his horse take off after the train, only when they bolted, they left in the wrong positions, with the horse riding atop Dooley. "Now just a minute!" he roars, and the switch is made. Hoofbeats are heard, but Dooley swiftly realizes that they aren't going anywhere. The camera pulls back to reveal the horse cheerfully clomping his hoofs hambone-style on his knees. "Now cut that out!" the villain yells, and  bonks the horse on the noggin, and then they ride out properly.

They get to the depot at Saddle Sore Junction, and when Woody's train grabs the bag from the mail-hook and Woody opens the bag, it is no surprise what lies waiting inside: Dooley and his horse. Dooley immediately pulls his weapon on Woody and demands, "Stick 'em up! Where's the gold bullion?" Woody is more than reluctant to tell him, but finally acquiesces. "In there," he says, and Dooley charges through the door, only it is the door to the outside of the car, and he falls off a high bridge. He returns swiftly, fires his pistols at Woody's feet, and tells the bird to "Start Dancing!" The two of them grab each other and start a quick boogaloo with the music flourish, and then Dooley tells him, "I hate you!" Woody's only defense is to reply, "I like you!" and kisses him loudly on the nose.

They hit a tunnel as Dooley fires his guns, and Woody (hiding in a barrel) lights a match to the bottom of the bullets on Dooley's gun belt, and they shoot a circle around Dooley's feet, causing him to fall through the floorboards. But the villain is saved, momentarily, by the fact that he has fallen on top of the train's wheels. He cycles his feet on the axle pre-Flintstone-style frantically, but Woody has other plans. The wacky woodpecker peels and eats a banana, and then throws the skin into the hole. Dooley is whisked under the train for a good mashing.

Next, Dooley and horse ride to catch the train, but are stopped by a lonely railroad crossing. They look both ways, but there seems to be nothing for miles. So, they step on to the tracks and the train zooms right over them. When the train is gone a split-second later, Dooley is a broken heap smashed into the tracks, and the horse is bandaged and scratched, sitting on his rear on the tracks, tapping his hooves on his knee in a very frustrated fashion. They then reach another railroad crossing, but this time, Dooley has a plan to pole vault over the tracks to avoid getting hit by the instantly appearing train. This would seem to work, but DDD wasn't counting on one of those low-flying planes. You know, the type that always seems to appear out of nowhere in the Old West. Dooley and his horse get carried off on the nose of the airplane as it blasts through the area.

Dooley then catches the train, climbs into an open car, but it is loaded with cattle and gets a full stomping from the fierce bulls contained inside. Then Dooley catches the train again, climbs under one of the cars, and begins to drill a hole though the floor. But Woody has moved a barrel of molasses over the spot where Dooley is working, and the villain become a sad, sticky mess clinging woefully to the bottom of the train. Dooley then rides and catches the train yet again, climbing up a ladder to the top, but Woody unhooks the ladder, and Dooley panics and ends up trashed on the tracks once more.

Dooley. Horse. Train. Catches. Climbs. This time, the train goes into a tunnel as Dooley hits the roof, and when it emerges, Woody walks up to Dooley with a puncher and asks the creep for his ticket. As Dooley begins to search for his, Woody cries out, "Hit the deck!" Dooley turns, only to get a face full of a mountainside as the train goes through another tunnel. The next time Dooley mounts the train, he decides to steal the bullion car by undoing it from the rest of the train. He turns the wheel violently to unhitch it, but, in a great visual, he only succeeds in twisting the entire train into what appears to be like a long peppermint stick. Finally, his twisting catches up to him, and the train and the wheel reverse themselves, and Dooley is shot up into the air, spinning madly. 

Next, DDD uses a railcar to catch the train, but Woody pulls the breaks, and Dooley goes crashing bodily through each and every car of the train, finally coming out in the engine, where he shoots up and out of the smokestack. Never one to give up, Dooley then tries to make the train switch tracks, but when he pulls the lever, the entire track simply jumps over on top of where he is standing, and the train runs him over. He pulls himself up from the tracks, and he looks for all the world exactly like a Cubist painting. (Nice one, that.)

Finally, Dooley knocks on the boxcar door, and Woody asks who it is. "Fuller Brush Man!" answers Dooley as charmingly as he can muster, and Woody lets him in. Finally, Dooley has reached the gold bullion: Gold Bullion Soup, that is! Crates and crates of Gold Bullion Soup. Understandably, the horrible gag makes Dooley go insane, and it is an easy matter for Woody to detach the car and drive DDD to the nearest jail. Soon, it is dinner time in jail, and Dooley demands his food. He gets it alright: Gold Bullion Soup, delivered to him by the new jailer, Woody Woodpecker.

Good, not great, fun until the lame soup ending. Some very nice gags, the horse is fun (especially his opening bit), but the visuals leap in quality from a couple of lushly grand shots to some very sketchy ones, and Woody seems to change shape and sharpness from scene to scene. In fact, Woody seems like an afterthought in this cartoon, and doesn't really seem to fit in with the rest of the animation in this short. It's not that I find him unappealing in Box Car Bandit (there are other more well-known Woody cartoons where that description would be apt for my reaction to him), but I just think that he greatly pales in comparison to the bandit and the horse.

But Dooley is the draw here anyway. There is more than a touch of Tex Avery in his very style, and even though he predates the character by a few years, when I see Dooley, I am slightly reminded of that drag-racing, pop-eyed rodent, Rat Fink, mainly for the similar crazed stare. Dooley is the Lantz Studio's bad guy of all seasons, and I do not want to overstate his worth, but I really do believe that he can often make an otherwise bland effort reasonably bearable, especially in some of these mid-50's Woody films that would be so ho-hum without his special touch of rubbery, brain-smashing madness and dogged determination.

OK, I'll say it -- Dapper Denver Dooley is Walter Lantz's secret weapon.

Stick 'em up...!

RTJ

*****

And in case you haven’t seen it…

[This article was revised slightly and updated on 1/12/16.]

I Haven't Got A Hat (1935)

I Haven't Got A Hat (Warner Bros. Merrie Melodies, 1935) 
Dir: Isadore "Friz" Freleng
Cel Bloc Rating: 7/9

"I'd tip my hat to you,
I'd do just that!
(Bo-bo-bo-boom!)
I'd tip my hat to you,
but I haven't got a hat!
(Bo bo-bo bo-bo bo-bo boom!)

I'm just a college boy.
Even at that,
(Bo-bo-bo-boom!)
I'd tip my hat to you,
but I haven't got a hat!
(Bo bo-bo bo-bo bo-bo boom!)

I'm really not a sap,
it's plain to see.
(Bo-bo-bo-boom!)
But if I wore a cap,
they'd never let me back
in the university!

I think you're swell, I do,
I'm standing pat!
(Bo-bo-bo-boom!)
I'd tip my hat to you,
but I haven't got a hat!
(Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo-bo-boom!)"

It's all about Ham and Ex.

Beans the Cat? Oliver Owl? Miss Cud and Little Kitty? They all deserved their one-way trip into The Hell of Poorly Conceived Cartoon Characters. And Porky Pig? Well, the Porky in I Haven't Got a Hat -- kind of an all-star character jam from Warner Bros. in 1935 where none of the characters were actually stars yet -- while he does stutter to marvelous effect, is a long way (physically and vocally) off from the beloved pig that was to slim down and spring into eventual stardom, catching his tongue on every other syllable.

You can say that Porky was the one who came out of this character traffic jam unscathed, because he did become a star after all, partially due to this film's success serving as a springboard to his continued development. But after a single watching of I Haven’t Got a Hat, you would realize that you were dead wrong. For no matter how history wants to paint things, Porky Pig is not the true star of this picture.

Since the time I first saw this light and fun cartoon, there was one scene, and one scene only, that truly stood out for me: two tan and white pups, punningly named Ham and Ex, singing the title song, I Haven't Got A Hat. Not even in the film for forty seconds (counting their introductory appearance), the two dogs nail the center of the picture down with their show-stopping number, with Ex (I guess he's Ex; he is the one on our right) punctuating the oddball lyrics with bursts of a doo wop-style basso.

The song stuck in my head for the next twenty-plus years, and Ham and Ex were stars, if only inside this same head that sucked up that unshakable ditty. In the real world, the pair only made three more films, all directed by Jack King, the eventual longtime Donald Duck director for Disney, who was one of the animators for this film: The Fire Alarm (1935), The Phantom Ship and Westward, Whoa! (both 1936). This gave them one more film than Jones' later Two Curious Puppies characters. Shuffled off to an undeserved obscurity, Ham and Ex had as much of a comeback as they are likely to make with a cameo appearance in the casino scene in Looney Tunes: Back In Action in 2003.

Ham and Ex and the rest of the cast (save for Little Kitty, who was probably in the sandbox at the time) are introduced at the start of the film with individual spotlights, before the film opens up to the story at hand. There is a "Musical and Recital" talent show at the schoolhouse overseen by the bovine schoolmarm, Miss Cud. She introduces each act to the assembled students and mothers, beginning the show with Porky Pig. The tremendously fat swine busts into a spirited but stuttered rendition of Longfellow's The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere, slapping his bare bottom to simulate the gallop of the horse. The cannons to the left of him are provided by a cute turtle pounding on his shell with drumsticks, and the cannons to the right are provided by a fellow dog student dropping a box of light bulbs from atop an offstage ladder. The class whistle outrageously, and Porky is herded off the stage by some very responsive and frisky dogs (who are acting like regular dogs, unlike Ham and Ex).

Little Kitty takes the stage to recite Mary Had A Little Lamb. She is forgetful at the beginning (aided twice by Miss Cud), but once her need to urinate (!) arises, while she does better at remembering the verse, her impatience swells along with her bladder, and she runs off the stage to attend to more personal affairs in a distant outhouse (or rather, the aforementioned sandbox).

Ham and Ex perform their number and thereby make it impossible for anyone following them to steal the show. They come in like professional troupers, ready to knock out their scene in the time allotted and leave the stage on cue. Ham and Ex are never seen in any of the classroom shots, and the lack of familiarity with them probably helps make them far more memorable than they probably deserve to be. They perform like they have been to the manner born, or at least have an incredible stage mother who has coached them endlessly.

Midway through the song, after mostly standing still since their entrance, Ham and Ex hit us with some fancy dance steps. Then, as swiftly and smoothly as they took the stage, they exit it, but not before Ex pops his head around the side of the frame for that final "Bo-bo-bo-bo-bo-bo-boom!" It is a marvelous performance, and pretty much overrides anything else before in the picture or that occurs next. 

Master Oliver Owl, all turned-up beak and snooty attitude, takes the stage for a piano recital. A troublemaker, Beans the Cat (the supposed "star" of this picture), tries to steal Oliver's bag from his desk, but the owl snatches it at the last second before taking the stage. As Oliver pounds out a perfunctory tune, Beans, who I have mentioned is a cat that goes to the school, finds a "normal" cat and normal dog and puts them under the piano lid. The piano starts jumping, and accidentally plays von Suppé's Poet and Peasant Overture on its own due to the frenetic cat-and-dog chase going on inside the workings of the piano. The class only sees a piano that they believe is being played by the awesome manipulations of Master Oliver; once the dog and cat climb out and the tune stops, the class boos Oliver profusely.

An upset Oliver realizes that Beans, outside the window atop a ladder, is the culprit, and squirts the green ink from his pen at the cat. The cat falls off the ladder onto a board opposite a conveniently placed can of red paint. The paint falls onto the owl's head, and the pair of enemies laugh at the outcome and shake hands to conclude the picture, covered in the two colors representing the limited rainbow of the Technicolor two-strip spectrum.

I Haven't Got a Hat is buoyant and silly fun, and is helped immeasurably by its score, which continues playing the catchy title song underneath through many moments in the picture. It is just another factor that allows Ham and Ex to dominate this picture for me, even with Porky giving his all in his very first scene, and even with the tiny amount of time the dogs are allowed to take part onscreen. 

What seems so odd to me is one of those cartoon contradictions, much in the same vein as Donald Duck's seemingly ravenous appetite for other birds (and not in a sexual manner), or Mickey Mouse being a rodent much larger than his pet dog Pluto, even though one of his best friends, Goofy, is a dog that is gainfully employed, drives a car, owns a house, and talks (also pointed out in Stand By Me). In I Haven't Got A Hat, there seems to be some sort of caste system where there are cats and dogs that wear clothes, go to school, sing, talk, and dance, and then there are cats and dogs that act like, well, actual cats and dogs. I can't figure out these contradictions, and there really isn't that much to figure out, because the creators of this cartoon probably didn't have the time to think these things through either. Nor would they have cared to do so. If it helped tell the story that they were animating, it seems that the prevailing rule was "Anything goes."

Of all the proposed new "stars" for Warner Bros. set loose in this cartoon, it was the fat, stuttering pig that burst out as the major cinematic star. Myself, I would have put my money on the twin singing puppies. Boy, would I be broke now, even more so than if I were around then during the Great Depression.

But, boy, do I love me some Ham and Ex...

Bo bo-bo bo-bo bo-bo boom!

RTJ

*****

And in case you haven't seen it:

I Haven't Got A Hat (1935) by iadb

[This article was revised and updated with new photos on 1/4/2016. And I still think Ham and Ex are the bee's knees.]