Looney Tunes Golden
Collection: Volume Three
Reviewed by Jesse Van Hoy
We open on a lovely
backdrop of an animated desert scene.
The road winding through the barrens appears to be abandoned save for a
lone figure: a rather svelte coyote with a wicked grin on his face stands
perched next to a comically oversized catapult, ready to hurl a boulder at some
unknown foe. Then we see it. Off in the distance a trail of smoke blazes
its way along the highway, approaching the would-be assailant. It is an altogether daft-looking bird speeding
along with no regard for the danger that lies in its path. Without having to see title cards for this
story we can already be sure of two things: the bird will escape unscathed, and
both the boulder and the catapult will somehow end up on top of that
poor coyote.
This is, of course, a
scene from the immensely popular, ulatraviolent Roadrunner/Wile E. Coyote
series of cartoons released by Warner Brothers’ Looney Tunes and Merrie
Meoldies studios. The cartoon in
question is titled “To Beep or Not to Beep,” and is available for the first
time as part of the Looney Tunes Golden Collection Volume Three. Beginning in 2003, Warner Brothers decided to
finally open its hallowed vault of animated shorts and release a definitive
anthology of its classic cartoons.
Previous VHS and DVD sets had been produced, such as the Spotlight
and Premiere collections, but these were criticized by cartoon devotees
as neglecting the catalogues of directors other than Chuck Jones. They were also light on shorts from the black
and white era, and virtually bereft of special features. Finally, most of the cartoons included in the
earlier sets featured a certain wascally wabbit, at the expense of many other
lesser-known characters.
The Golden Collection
has remedied all of these issues. Now in
its third edition, each four-disc set presents roughly sixty shorts produced
between 1935 and 1963, Warner Brothers’ golden age of animation. With this expanded range, Warner Brothers has
allowed Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies enthusiasts to trace the
evolution of their favorite characters, as well as gain exposure to earlier
ones who did not have as much staying power but nevertheless represent
important milestones in the history of animation. This comprehensive collection also showcases
the work of virtually every important Warner Brothers animation director,
including
To the casual cartoon fan,
the work of different directors may seem subtle or even downright
imperceptible. In this regard, the Golden
Collection’s wealth of special features makes the discs worth their weight
in gold. Every set is peppered with
commentary on signature shorts by animation historians and former Warner
Brothers animators. These commentaries
provide insight into the many diverse styles of direction and animation that
are manifested in the cartoons. A
classic Bugs Bunny/Daffy Duck rivalry cartoon directed by Chuck Jones, for
example, is likely to be much richer in character development than a short by
Tashlin, who relied more on intense strings of physical gags. The commentary tracks appeal to both
neophytes and aficionados alike, relating everything from technical
explanations of backgrounds and camera techniques to intimate anecdotes about
the origins of certain gags and fond memories of the deceased voice master, Mel
Blanc.
Rather than simply presenting a hodgepodge of
shorts, Warner Brothers has organized them according to character. Each set has, of course, featured an entire
disc of Bugs Bunny films, but the other major characters have been given the
spotlight as well. Past collections have
highlighted Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, and the gastronomical pursuits by Sylvester
and Wile E. Coyote of Tweety and the Road Runner, respectively. The sets also typically include a disc of
miscellaneous shorts starring other perennial favorites such as Foghorn
Leghorn, Pepé Le Pew, Yosemite Sam, and Marvin the Martian.
The latest compilation,
however, brings the series to new heights by including a disc of classic
cartoons parodying the entertainment industry.
In viewing these shorts one receives a crash course in the history of
media from the 1930’s to the 1960’s. At
the dawn of studio animation, before Saturday morning became the playground for
childhood fantasy, cartoons were developed as marketing tools. They were played along with newsreels before
feature films in movie theaters across the country. Cartoons served as showcases for the music
being featured in upcoming shows and movies that were being financed by the
studios. The strains of “As Time Goes
By” can be heard in several early shorts, just as it served as one of the
unifying elements in
One of the first shorts on
the disc parodies a medium that grew up alongside the cinema: radio. “The CooCoo Nut Grove” (1936) opens in a
forest setting that plays host to a nightclub dance party officiated by Ben
Birdie, a caricature of Ben Bernie who was, according to the invaluable
commentary track, a popular band leader and radio host during the 1930’s. His voice perfectly mimics the deep, pleasant
tone used by radio jazz show hosts from the period. The club is inhabited by a bevy of celebrity
animal anthropomorphs, from a horse-like “Katherine Heartburn” to a swine version
of Oliver Hardy, as well as human caricatures.
Just as the stars were under contract to the studios, their images were
also open to being used in cartoons. The
cartoon has no real story; it simply depicts a variety of familiar
personalities in stylized, humorous parodies of themselves. Though some of the
references are not as fresh today as they were seventy years ago, the cartoon
still provides some good laughs and shows that
Tex Avery’s “Thugs With Dirty
Mugs” (1939) parodies the entire genre of gangster movies, which were some of
the most popular films of the period.
The main character, a grouper-lipped dog with ever-narrowed eyes, is a
right-on-the-money double of Edward G. Robinson, one of the actors who defined
the role of the mobster. Blanc’s
inestimable talents provide the voice to go along with the face, and at one
point the conniving canine even turns toward the camera and comments upon his
uncanny resemblance to Robinson. With
this short, Warner Brothers not only displayed the courage to harp upon some of
the absurdities of a genre that it very much relied upon, but also dabbled in
new vistas of comedy by breaking down the fourth wall of the cinema.
When television emerged as
a viable medium and developed recognizable personas of its own, the writers and
directors at the Warner Brothers animation studio set their sights on this new
source of material. “The Honey-Mousers” (1956) is an unapologetic lampoon of
“The Honeymooners.” The Kramdens and
their neighbor Ed Norton are recreated as mice.
The hole-in-the-wall that the original characters inhabit is an actual
one in the cartoon. Ralph and Norton
devise several elaborate schemes to get past the resident cat and raid the
refrigerator but, much like in the classic show, they are foiled at every
turn. The most ingenious plot involves a
Trojan dog.
The preponderance of
celebrity send-ups produced by the Looney Tunes/Merrie Melodies
crew suggests that to have made an appearance in a Warner Brothers cartoon was
akin to being awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. One would not be caricatured if there were
any possibility of the joke being lost on an audience because they were
unfamiliar with the personality in question.
This use of popular culture icons and the ingenuity of the animators and
directors at Warner Brothers cemented the cartoon studio as a cultural
institution.
Perhaps the greatest proof
of this hypothesis is “The Mouse That Jack Built” (1959). This short followed a day in the life of Jack
Benny (again with mice as the main characters). However, instead of having Mel
Blanc voice all of the characters, as was the typical practice, Benny and the
actors from his radio show provided the vocal talent. Benny was one of the most popular media
figures of the twentieth century, having achieved success in radio, television,
films, and the stage. His crossover into
the cartoon world lent even more credence to the viability of the medium.
The Looney Tunes Golden
Collection Volume. 3 is a fine installment in a series that has set a high
benchmark for home entertainment. The
selection of shorts presented is just as fresh as those from the former
installments. Warner Brothers continues
to give the lovers of these cartoons a healthy portion of commentaries, unseen
shorts, and featurettes that allow the viewer to delve deeper into the
animation. The third volume’s greatest
achievement, however, is its retrospective look back on the symbiotic
relationship between the cartoons and the rest of
Jesse Van Hoy is an undergraduate English major at
St. John’s University