Okay. So there seems to be a spate of people posting their favorite
Tex Avery cartoons in their blogs, courtesy of You Tube.
I was going to hold off, but now that
more than
two people have weighed in on this, I have to add
my pick to the list.
Here is the
majesty that is Tex Avery's
Magical Maestro (1952):
Okay, so there are Avery cartoons that are probably
better (
Bad Luck Blackie, to name one), but this is the one that still consistantly cracks me up.
Now, that said, this one does contain a couple of . . . um . . .
unfortunate ethnic stereotype bits. When I was growing up, the blackface gag was
always cut from the print on local NYC television, which, once I saw the uncut print as an adult, struck me as quite odd, given that unlike the blackface gags seen in
many cartoons of the period (Avery's
Lucky Ducky for example) where the gags are TRULY offensive, consisting of characters (usually after having their face in an explosion) suddenly having big lips and "pickaninny" hair, the gag in this cartoon is rather innocent. However, the MUCH more offensive Chinese stereotype gag (pictured above in the You Tube thumbnail link) was
never cut. Still, both gags go by quick, and there are plenty others . . .
As an animation student back as NYU Film in the late 80s, I would often have disagreements with other students about Avery. It was argued that he wasn't exactly big on character animation, which, yes, is fairly true, and if one's main concern is in giving drawings actor-like "life" and "expression," I can see the point. However, if one is concerned with rhythm, timing, fluidity, "pliability" and movement in animation, there's
no one better.
So where's the damn DVD set of Avery's MGM cartoons we've all been waiting for? I'm glad I still have my old VHS tape of most of the laserdisc set of all of the MGM Avery cartoons, but it's getting worn out. Fast.
Joe Adamson's book on Avery is essential for those who are interested in more about him,(Adamson is one of the few people who can actually be funny when writing about funny people, as demonstrated in his
Groucho, Harpo, Chico, and Sometimes Zeppo, still the best book on the Marx Brothers ever written).
And remember the
most important lesson from Tex: You only need to have the anvil seen falling for
4 frames above someone for the audience to register
exactly what it is before it hits the poor slob . . .
