425. I Got Plenty of Mutton (1944)

Warner cartoon no. 424.
Release date: March 11, 1944.
Series: Looney Tunes.
Supervision: Frank Tashlin.
Producer: Leon Schlesinger.
Starring: Mel Blanc (Wolf / Killer Diller).
Story: Melvin Millar.
Animation: Izzy Ellis.
Musical Direction: Carl Stalling.
Sound: Treg Brown (uncredited).
Synopsis: A raw-boned wolf, deprived of meat due to wartime rations; reads a newspaper about a sheepdog, leaving his flock to join the army. The wolf seeks an opportunity.

It's no secret that American civilians faced tough conditions on the home front during WW2. Rationing was enforced at a greater scale, from food resources to tires. But there was no shortage of humour, as far as the WB cartoons were concerned. A scenario involving a wolf, suffering from war-time rationing, paves the way for comedic opportunities - which will be broken down in this cartoon.


Once Frank Tashlin upgraded to making Technicolor cartoons (when B/W production ceased on the Schlesinger shorts); he slowly starts to turn his attention less on cinematic staging; and more on design and timing. His flamboyant cinematic style peaked with his B/W magnum opuses: Porky Pig's Feat and Puss 'N Booty. Maybe Tashlin felt he exhausted himself on the technique; and wanted to look for other forms of innovation. Regardless, it would still provide a unique flavour to his cartoons.

In the case of this opening sequence depicting the wolf's suffering of wartime rations, Tashlin isn't thinking just cinematically. Instead, it's how character animation and direct staging can provide entertainment. It's no secret that Tashlin was also an avid designer, and the wolf in particular has an impressive, funny design that evokes starvation - especially on the deformed chest that's hunched from the rest of his emaciated body.

The opening sequence that serves as exposition for the wolf's starvation, is enough of a showcase for Frank Tashlin's versatility and calibre. From the newspaper on the table, the camera pans to an elaborate layout of the wolf's hands pumping out water into a pot. The camera pans to follow the wolf, walking from the foreground into the background, to place the pot by the fireplace.

Tashlin's timing comes into effect in a scene of the wolf shooing away the rats, who are stealing the wolf's rations by drinking from his weak meat broth. An appropriate multiple effect drawn on the wolf is applied to capture the wolf's incessant pursuit of survival. The wolf turns the cauldron over, realising his broth is now significantly rationed to the point of a singular drop of water.  Tashlin's timing comes to aid as the wolf gets ready to take the last drop until a rat zips into the scene, and on top of the wolf's nose - taking the last drop for himself.


Tashlin's keen eye for entertainment results in how nicely executed it is. For instance, when the wolf pulls out the tureen from a dish - a mist of steam flows around the plate; obscuring what's on it. The steam unveils to reveal a pitiful, singular pea. The effect alone is both hilarious and powerful. The audience knows his predicament too well.

The wolf's frail design is taken advantage of in the following scene as he eats the pea. His frailty is so severe that the pea struggles to slide down his throat - as it zigzags across. In a vertical setup, the camera pans down to the body, with the pea landing at the bottom of his stomach and bouncing gently. With no animation on the wolf from the neck below, Treg Brown's sound work has nice touches to the entertainment values of this scene.

Tashlin's starvation sequence is a nice blend of how he directs a scene both comedically and powerfully. Some of the gags are quite sadistic, but it's executed in a light-hearted way to overlook that. Carl Stalling's score is foreboding in a sense of echoing the macabre subject of starvation. And yet, Stalling has time to apply his musical touches for comedic value - like the pea-eating gag.

And so, the wolf's delight - a newspaper headline reveals that dogs are being drafted for the war effort. An amusing photograph illustration reveals the emotional parting of the sheep dog and his flock; the latter who likely sense a premonition.

The wolf takes this chance to prey on the flock, and put an end to his starvation. Tashlin's feel for energy and characterisation are met with a series of fast cuts, to emphasise the wolf's full force and burning desire.

Tashlin already had roots with the technique, going back to his earlier directorial efforts like Porky's Romance (1937) or Porky in the Northwoods (1936). The effect was very encouraging, but less effective. By the time of this cartoon's production, Tashlin had already blossomed as a director - that the results proved successful.

Once the wolf leaps from the boulder to prey on the flock; there are a series of eclectic angles, ranging from wide-shots to close-ups. They all connect masterfully and the matter of seconds it takes, makes the result feel effortless.

Johnny Burton's camera department deserve special credit for successfully pulling off the point of view shot of the flock trucking in closer, during the dive. As a single frame, the flock are drawn within the background due to economic reasons. However, due to how quickly the shot goes; it doesn't detract from the experience at all.

After an excellent showcase of Tashlin's rapid-cutting endeavour, another niche of Tashlin takes form in the following scene. The wolf freezes at mid-air at the threatening sight of a fearless ram - who intercepts the wolf's ploy to eat the flock.

The wolf encounters a new dilemma -
as revealed in a Tex Avery-esque sub-heading.

The staging of the two characters is both broad and angular. Much of the animation is kept in a held pose - save for the wolf's hysterically sheepish grin. The use of limited animation conveys the comedy in an innovative matter - the fewer the drawings, the better the impact.

The wolf quickly looks at the newspaper again, to discover the identity of the ram, as Killer Diller--the new caretaker of the flock. And so, this results in a typical battle of wits sequence; full of fun animation and layout work.

Tashlin's sense of design and caricature is used broadly in a sequence of the wolf setting up his disguise. In the scene, animated by Cal Dalton, the wolf takes on the disguise of a sheep. Dalton's animation is grotesque in a sense that it's fitting with the character. It serves a purpose. The wolf attempts to enhance attractiveness by applying makeup on; but to little effect.

The use of caricature and cartooning is a hysterical showcase of ugliness - especially when the wolf puts on fake eyelashes that are hideously long. Dalton's animation typically involved pudginess in the characters he drew - and it seems he was a natural choice for this assignment!

Once the wolf poses in front of Killer Diller in his sheep costume, he becomes his own victim! The scene presents a good case of role reversal between those characters - the wolf is in sheep's clothing, while the ram becomes a lusty wolf!

Although sexual burlesque was becoming all the rage in animated cartoons (most notably starting with Tex Avery's Red Hot Riding Hood); it was being skirted around Hollywood movies too, during the early 40s. For example, Billy Wilder's The Major and the Minor (1942) is played harmless from the Production Code's point of view, but the film as a whole it's riddled by such sexual tension and tendencies.

Regarding this sequence, it's extremely suggestive from a visual standpoint. Take the close-up of Killer Diller, who's so horny that his curved horns erect, piping hot. On the face of it, it looks like a wacky cartoon gag, but the phallic symbol of his horns is extremely suggestive and hard to overlook.

Killer Diller embraces the disguised wolf, and lusts seductively with a French accent. Art Davis' animation in this segment exhibits his flair for personality animation, such as the subtle touches of the wolf looking for a club to hit Killer Diller, which bursts into energetic animation of the wolf whirling in a drybrush effect, after striking the club on a tree branch.

The disguise flies off the wolf, causing him to frantically escape Killer's arms and return to his disguise - in a surrealistic, topsy-turvy pose that almost feels inspired by the Cubism movement.

The remainder of the cartoon deals with the wolf trying to escape Killer Diller's consistent advances towards him. At a time of war, the wolf attempts to dispose Killer Diller with an anti-aircraft gun, but the ram pulls him inside, to kiss him.


The chase advances into the night - and for the first time, the wolf speaks, in a fit of rage. Exasperated, he tears off his disguise in a fit of outburst: "Look, ya dope! Look! I'm not a sheep! I'm not a sheep! I'm a wolf! I'm a wolf!"

Unfazed, Killer Diller responds: "So what...so am I!" and howls. The sexually risque dialogue and hilarious topper of a closing gag also feels genuine. No matter what the circumstances are - love can be found in all sorts of weird places. The bona fide spontaneity and sophistication of the innuendo is what makes Warner Bros. stand out from the rest! And indeed, it predates the immortalised ending from Wilder's Some Like It Hot - which was surely coincidental. Great minds think alike!

For a cartoon that favours pantomime over dialogue; it could've been a natural assignment for Chuck Jones to direct; but Tashlin's masterful directing proves that any competent director is capable of handling such material! Despite the wartime themes, this cartoon still feels timeless due to its simplistic battle-of-wits formula. The writers at Warner Bros' ability to make light of real-world problems, like wartime rationing, is remarkable; especially when they take on a cliched narrative that becomes less cliched and more spontaneous. Amongst several sexual-oriented cartoons that occurred during this era, Frank Tashlin's take has a more sophisticated quality; whereas, say, Bob Clampett's is more gross-out, and Tex Avery's more boisterous. Overall, Tashlin's tricks of the trade resulted in a highly entertaining, spontaneous cartoon that emphasises why the Warner cartoons are worth a damn!

Rating: 4/5.

410. Porky Pig's Feat (1943)

Warner cartoon no. 409.

Release date: July 17, 1943.

Series: Looney Tunes.

Supervision: Frank Tashlin.

Producer: Leon Schlesinger.

Starring: Mel Blanc (Porky Pig / Daffy Duck / Hotel Manager / Bugs Bunny).

Story: Melvin Millar.

Animation: Phil Monroe.

Musical Direction: Carl W. Stalling.

Sound: Treg Brown (uncredited).

Synopsis: Porky and Daffy attempts to escape from paying a huge hotel bill is thwarted by the hotel manager.

Frank "Tish Tash" Tashlin

In September 1942, not only had the Schlesinger studio finally achieved an identity for their innovative style of humour in their cartoons; but it also marked the return of another influential force at the Schlesinger studio. Arguably one of the greatest and most diverse cartoon directors, Frank Tashlin returns to the studio for the third time, as a story director - after a four year stint at Disney and Columbia's Screen Gems.

Frank Tashlin, as witnessed previously in this blog during his first tenure as director, was best known for his cinematic style to animated cartoons. Not only had he achieved sharper timing within the studio; but gave his cartoons a streamline design. Tashlin, like Chuck Jones, loved to experiment and did so to his full extent. His experiments would pay off, as he still maintained the spirit and energy that the studio's reputation prided with.

Not long afterwards, Frank Tashlin would return to his former directing position by succeeding Norm McCabe's black-and-white unit. Since his last directorial effort at Warners in 1938; the Warner Bros. animation studio had enhanced significantly in style and pace. Since his return, Frank Tashlin shows no struggles of adapting to the change, although felt he lost a lot of seniority by then, as recollected in Michael Barrier's interview: "I had to come up from the cellar again". In the wake of his four-and-a-half year absence, his first released short Porky Pig's Feat provides an excellent comeback for the director.

If there was a layout artist with the ability to meet with the complex demands of Tashlin's directing; Dave Hilberman is the right candidate. Layout is relied upon heavily throughout the cartoon, and Hilberman's pivotal work on the short is sublime. Like Tashlin, Hilberman was an innovator; and his avant-garde approach to layout and designs create a fitting match for the maestro.

Melvin "Tubby" Millar's narrative is kept simple and to the point: Porky and Daffy attempt to avoid payment on a huge bill, and pull off various escape attempts from a tenacious hotel manager, who stops at nothing, to ensure their bill is paid. Millar splits the narrative structure.

The first half of the short is all exposition, as seen in the opening scenes. After Porky observes an unfair hotel bill (for which he and Daffy are charged for every luxury including breathing and goodwill), the following scene dissolves to Daffy Duck gambling away during a game of craps in the elevator.

The sequence is beautiful not only in direction, but in suspense and atmosphere. Tashlin utilises his cinematic techniques in making the craps game ambiguous - only Daffy's silhouetted hand and cry for luck inform the audience of the situation. Once Daffy rolls the dice, an unseen croupier (impersonating Eddie Anderson) shouts, "Uh-oh. Snake eyes. Too bad! You is a dead duck, duck!". The elevator door slides open revealing a dejected Daffy walking away in sombre, after blowing his entire money on gambling; meaning there's no other alternative to paying the bill. Daffy's pose is beautifully staged in capturing the melancholy mood, and Carl Stalling's use of Blues in the Night underplayed fits the locale effectively.

An interrogation so intense, in a
few frames, Daffy's mouth appears
monstrous.

Offended by the manager's sceptical response concerning Daffy Duck, he busts in on his face, glaring and dominating him threateningly. Another marvellous Tashlin trait was his ability to pose characters in exaggerated positions, and enforce the poses far longer than the other directors would anticipate. This is largely showcased in the scene as described. Daffy presses the manager's face the point his face sinks inside; in unparalleled Art Davis animation.

He interrogates him in an unforgettable speech written by Tubby Millar: "Insulting my integrity, eh, fatso? Insinuating I'd flee this flea-bitten dump, eh, fatso?" Intimating I'd abscond with your financial remunerations, eh fatso?". Once he's finished, Daffy slides his head away from the manager's squished face. Amused by the outcome, he remarks: "Hey, look! A Dick Tracy character. Pruneface!". It's a remarkable piece of staging that indicates Tashlin's fearlessness as a director - by attempting what other directors wouldn't try, and all for a marvellous effect. After exchanging some violent outbursts from each other; Porky and Daffy begin their greatest escape plan had they succeeded.

While Frank Tashlin relied heavily on filmmaking techniques in his approach to cartoon directing; a lot of his camera work was used for comedic purposes. After Daffy's little altercation with the hotel manager; he prepares to slap Daffy with his glove. A close-up of Daffy Duck ready to anticipate his slap; and then camera pans over to Porky. As the slap is interpreted by Porky's reaction, the camera pans back to Daffy Duck, revealing a severe sting on his face from the glove. It works effectively in depicting cartoon violence in a satirical way, and to some extent, it pokes fun at the Production Code's restrictions on violence portrayed in film.

Not only does Tashlin pay homage to the use of mise en scene for filmmaking; he also pulls off complex camera techniques only effectively in cartoons. While Schlesinger stalwarts like Friz Freleng and Tex Avery were masters in fulfilling difficult camera actions successfully; Tashlin takes the feat beyond.

A striking example occurs in Daffy and Porky's first attempt in escaping from the elevator. The camera trucks in to the elevator clock sliding, and then damaged on impact. The elevator door arises to find Porky and Daffy backing away from a menacing hotel manager (with flypaper still attached to his face from earlier), and end up back where they originally started. And so, the angry manager protests: "And you don't get out until you pay up!"

It's a remarkably complex piece of work, requiring the effort of Hilberman's layouts and Johnny Burton's department. The staging and planning is incredibly inventive and outlandish in depicting a failed attempt of escaping down an elevator. On a plus note, the grimace expressions on the manager (as well as Porky and Daffy's awkward poses) are priceless and intimidating.

Animation by Cal Dalton.

Tashlin's filmmaking approach is incredibly diverse in the cartoon; not just in camera techniques or timing, but also in composition and scale. For the hotel manager; Tashlin exploits the character's size to make him appear larger than normal. It's utilised effectively in the opening scene; where he daunts Porky about the bill, "You will, of course, pay the bill now before you leave, no?".


The camera pans down to an intimidated Porky who bluffs, "My partner Daffy Duck will be right back. He's out cashing a check!". The size of the manager works effectively to carry out an intimidating appearance.

Frank Tashlin's love for cinematic camera angles doesn't go missed in this cartoon. For the sequence where Porky and Daffy attempt to slide down the hotel building from a rope made from bed sheets; he uses the camera angles for timing purposes.

Tashlin uses low-angle shots of Porky Pig at the ground, stuttering and yelling, "Hurry up, Daffy, don't dilly-dally! Time's a wastin'!". Little does Porky realise as he's standing on top of a drain cover; that the manager is hiding underneath the sewer, and planting matchsticks underneath Porky's feet to give him the ol' hotfoot.

The depiction of only featuring the manager's hands enhances the suspense of the action further; and it's paid off as Porky zips upwards, as he reacts to the hotfoot. Also, Tashlin still remains true to the spirit of the Warners humour; as Daffy lustfully whistles at an open hotel window, implying he's staring at an attractive woman undressing. The next shot reveals, however, an illustration of a female model in a magazine.

Perhaps the most memorable technique Tashlin employed in this short is the elaborate seqeunce of the hotel manager falling down the staircase. In the sequence, Porky and Daffy lock themselves in their hotel room, and the manager tries to break down the door. And so, Porky and Daffy pull down the rug; causing the manager to crash and bump down the spiral staircase.

The camera pans down to reveal the complex layout work; seen as a simulated tilt shot. Hilberman's genius layout technique emphasises the infinite journey the manager has to endure, along with Mel Blanc's delivery on the yells. In the following scenes; extreme close-ups of Porky and Daffy's eyes watch the manager stumbling down the stairs. The manager's bumps are reflections from their pupils. Speaking of reflections, Tashlin uses it in the short sporadically; particularly in the shot of Daffy Duck's reflection seen through the hotel manager's monocle, as he's about to give Daffy "the field of honour."

Frank Tashlin also experiments and makes effective use of his timing skills. For fast-paced scenes like Porky's reaction to the hot-pot; he uses streaks and fast cutting (which he used primarily on earlier efforts like Porky in the North Woods and Porky's Romance) to depict the action. To create impact and weight in animation action; Tashlin's timing works effectively for scenes like Daffy yanking the flypaper off the manager's face - portrayed with a controlled and yet exaggerated use of squash and stretch.

While the pacing is quintessential of Tashlin's work, he also uses elements of subtlety that portrays humorous situations beautifully; particularly evident in the sequence ready for discussion. Once Porky and Daffy's plan of causing the manager to stumble down the stairs has supposedly worked; a recovered manager zips up the stairs in a flash; causing the pair to lock themselves in their rooms once more and pull off the stunt once more.

However, the manager has learnt from his mistakes and deceives Porky and Daffy into thinking he's fallen by imitating the agonising yells outside their door. The pair step outside to listen out for the yells; without realising he's right beside them. His yells turn calmer, causing Porky to double-take and crack Daffy's neck forward. The cracking action is a beautiful, subtle piece of timing - excelled from Phil Monroe's character animation and Treg Brown's virtuoso sound effects.

To create definitive cartoon timing and comedy; Carl Stalling is the reliable candidate in enhancing the effect. Infamous for his usage of Raymond Scott's Powerhouse, Stalling takes advantage of the frantic, episodic music by turning it into an innovative cue for wild cartoony action - like the hotel manager frantically ramming at the door in frustration.

While Scott's piece has been heard previously for the climatic sequence in the Snafu short, Gripes, this is the first usage of the piece in a Warner Bros. cartoon - as well as the start of a great legacy.

As far as gags and humour goes; Tashlin was not much different compared to Bob Clampett or Tex Avery, as the standard Termite Terrace humour remained intact in his shorts. A gag popularised by Tex Avery is borrowed in this short; but used in an unpredictable, spontaneous fashion. The hotel manager crashes into a hotel door; flattening door. Once he's recovered; he opens the door, but finds another door. He continuously opens an endless number of doors, until he finds one with a sign attached, reading: "Monotonous, isn't it?"

After one final attempt of escaping the crutches of the hotel manager; Porky and Daffy swing across the rope to another building; only to be cornered once again by the manager. The manager wins the battle and imprisons the pair in a hotel room for evading their bill.

Months past, Porky and Daffy are still imprisoned and full of despair. Bugs hopelessly stutters, "Gosh, if Bugs Bunny were only here". The following sequence is fitting reference to the character; as Porky and Daffy represent the majority of people who admire his mischievous antics - and the pair reminisce a scene from a non-existent cartoon. Porky's fourth wall crack, "I saw him in a Leon Schlesinger cartoon once" must've been an amusing reaction from Schlesinger's viewing of the short.

Feeling hopeful and optimistic of escaping the macabre hotel room, Daffy advances towards the telephone box to call Bugs Bunny. For the first time in Warner Bros. cartoon filmography; Daffy Duck converses with Bugs Bunny. Not as an enemy as how he's been immortalised and marketed today; but as an ally.

"What's up, duck?" Animation by
Izzy Ellis.

Daffy explains the predicament of his and Porky's situation, and consults Bugs on the phone on some pointers of escaping. Bugs suggested all the stunts they attempted earlier in the cartoon: like the elevator, throwing the manager down the stairs, using the sheets to swing across on the rope.

A sample of the abrupt "jump cut"
technique, popularised in Goddard's
Breathless (1959).

For Daffy's phone call to Bugs; Tashlin establishes a technique that was almost unheard of in Hollywood filmmaking. Tashlin uses jump cuts to bring the camera closer and closer to Daffy's face. It's used ironically to create dynamics and suspense in an otherwise casual phone call.

Animation by Phil Monroe.

The" jump cut" technique wasn't used extensively until Jean-Luc Goddard's French New Wave film Breathless (1959) (a sample of the technique can be viewed here). From a film history perspective; it's fascinating to see how ahead of his time Frank Tashlin was, and the liberties he took during Hollywood's studio system era.

And so, Daffy comes to the point in the phone call: "We've tried all those ways". Then, a door to the next room opens up to reveal Bugs Bunny (in his only black-and-white appearance in a Warner cartoon), also in the same situation as Porky and Daffy, with shackles attached to his legs. He munches on a carrot and remarks, "Ehh, don't work, do they?". It's a hilarious piece of tragedy that exemplifies the hopelessness of escaping a hotel bill, and from the hotel manager.

Although Frank Tashlin would go on to produce a handful more funny, memorable cartoons at the studio, Porky Pig's Feat is perhaps, his cartoon masterpiece and one of my all-time favourite Warner Bros. shorts. Tashlin adjusts to the changes of the studio's style of filmmaking from his departure in 1938 effortlessly, and invests a lot of his talent and abilities into one cartoon flawlessly. Tashlin's cinematic, avant-garde approach to cartoon directing gives the cartoon's action more excitement and fulfilment for the viewer. Humour-wise, Tashlin keeps true to the spirit of the Warner style, as well as understanding characterisation. While Frank Tashlin's 1930s cartoons were mostly hit-and-miss, perhaps due to the material he was given, there's no denying he's returned an improved director. Although one might argue the techniques might've been overused in the cartoon, most importantly - Tashlin never loses sight of the narrative and the importance of keeping the audience motivated; a huge "feat" indeed!

Rating: 5/5.

399. Hop and Go (1943)

Warner cartoon no. 398.
Release date: March 27, 1943.
Series: Looney Tunes.
Supervision: Norm McCabe.
Producer: Leon Schlesinger.
Starring: Pinto Colvig (Claude Hopper), Mel Blanc (Scottish Rabbits).
Story: Melvin Millar, Don Christensen (unc.)
Animation: Cal Dalton.
Musical Direction: Carl W. Stalling.
Sound: Treg Brown (uncredited).
Synopsis: Two Scottish rabbits attempt to challenge Claude Hopper's statement as the greatest hopper in the world - even going so far as to cheat.

Norm McCabe rarely had the opportunity to develop a personal style like Chuck Jones or Bob Clampett; as he was typically lumbered with war-themed shorts. However, McCabe's take on a one-shot cartoon with a plot not heavily reliant on wartime references states his potential.

Millar and Don Christenen's story is in the same vein of a standard Warner Bros. short: a dim-witted kangaroo named Claude Hopper boasts about being "the best darn hopper in the whole world"; and two eavesdropping Scottish rabbits decide to use him for their own amusement.

The opening sequence indicates no sign of McCabe's lowering standards. For example an impressive camera shot features the camera hopping in rhythm to Claude's hopping action - an effect used similarly in Friz Freleng's Hop, Skip and a Chump.

Carl Stalling composes a little hopping rhythm which gives some added personality on Claude, and of course, Pinto Colvig's singing voice in the persona of Goofy is always entertaining to hear. The layouts on the opening shot and Claude Hopper hopping in perspective indicate Dave Hilberman's enjoyment of problem solving on complex layout work.

 Characterisations and personas are also typical in the spirit of Warner Bros. in this short. Claude Hopper is portrayed as ignorant based on his heavy size and Pinto Colvig's Goofy persona. There's also a subtle reference of Colvig, too.


Claude brags to the rabbits about his hopping by declaring, "I've got a certificate to prove it", with the certificate reading "This guy is a goof" - a possible reference to Colvig known as the original voice actor for Disney's Goofy.

The Scottish rabbits, on the other hand are depicted as much smaller and slender in size - adding some craftiness to their low cunning. Mel Blanc is always reliable for giving some added personality (like the Scottish dialect on the rabbits) to characters who are portrayed as conniving, if nothing else.

Their contrasting size and personalities are put to good use in a sequence involving Claude Hopper's attempts of accomplishing the longest jump. As Claude leaps; the rabbits are hanging onto the end of his tail. Once Hopper lands, they leap from his tail and land on the ground in front of him. So, the rabbits take advantage of his gullibility by measuring the other rabbit in front - deceiving Claude into thinking he's been narrowly beaten.

Astonished, Claude attempts the jump once more but finds he's landed in the exact position as before. In an attempt to break the record one last time; Claude empties various heavy objects from his pouch to reduce the weight. The scottish rabbit takes his chance by placing a piece of bubble gum underneath Claude's tail.

McCabe's comic timing plays along nicely by giving impact and weight to the strength of the gum. Treg Brown's resourceful sound effects add to the right touch, also. Falling back from the stretchiness of the gum; Claude falls backwards and crashes onto a pile of junk that had fallen from his pouch - once again, outsmarted by the rabbits.

At the same time, Norm McCabe continues to fulfil his potential as a director - by using dynamics and uncommon styles of pacing and shot angles for sequences requiring it. Dave Hilberman's layouts are better appreciated in scenes involving Claude hopping on the branch of the tree, and landing backwards on a birds nest - resulting in the birth of a baby bird screeching "Mammy!" to Claude.


McCabe's use of dynamics are most revealing in the sequence where the rabbits attempt to loosen a giant boulder. The boulder is intended to land at one end of a log - in hope for Claude to have a grand leap.

Not only are the great compositional shots effective but also appropriate in its visual storytelling. For the scenes of the boulder falling - McCabe channels a little of Chuck Jones from this era (see My Favourite Duck and Flop Goes the Weasel).

The falling boulder is witnessed by each character with the aid of rapid pacing and several quick shots to make the anticipation gag more effective and dynamic. A daring feat to accomplish, McCabe's timing proves competent as he navigates through Hilberman's layouts wisely and effectively.

The boxing match sequence is another example of depicting both character personalities and use of creative pacing, as analysed earlier. Although the payoff itself is a little weak in creativity and execution.

The rabbits speed past Claude, creating him dizzy spells. Out of nowhere, one of the rabbits pulls out a fighting canvas effortlessly. This is also an occurrence with Claude's "goof" certificate.

Claude's bragging and boasting continues to do no favours as he considers himself an athlete. A taste of cartoon logic is taken for granted as one of the rabbits unexpectedly pulls out a switch from the fighting pole - causing one of the ropes to arise; causing Claude to spin around the rope in the style of an acrobat. The execution feels a little weak as the sudden appearance of a switch seems to not depict the rabbit's slyness as seen in the long jump sequence which follows after.

Some gags use some cliches typical of the Warner Bros. style of humour. This is evident in the sequence of Claude Hopper after being rescued from his collision with a tunnel.

He is brought back from the river, where one rabbit uses his tail like a hand pump; while the other rabbit rinses himself (with the dripping water coming from Claude's soaked hair) whilst singing Singin' in the Bathtub - a popular song choice whenever a character showers or bathes. The scene of the principal rabbit washing his hands on the water's pouch like a sink is a decent visual gag itself; and the unexpected delivery of the rabbit pulling the plug out for the water to fade is hilarious itself.

Like many McCabe shorts; the finale sequence is heavy on war-related references. Although some of the gags have aged overtime; some of the visual effects work still hold up well. Claude has begun his long continuous leap and on the way he encounters several war planes, as well as references to food rations - like the bizarre "price ceiling" pun.

McCabe completely manipulates time and length of his leap as the sequence cross-dissolves into nighttime. The colour styling and tone of a silhouetted Claude beneath a night sky is incredibly stunning and rich in style. As Claude strikes a match - the light reflections on Claude enhances the quality.

Claude encounters a calamity as beam lights flash right at him; as an unseen enemy targets and attempts to fire ammunition at him. A silly, funny little gag in the style of Avery or Clampett occurs in between as Claude attempts to shout, but to no avail due to the loudness of the firing. Then, he bellows: "Sorta noisy, ain't it?" as the firing halts momentarily.


Unaware that he is carrying a box of dynamite the rabbits planted underneath his pouch - he panics as he begins to lower at the ground. And so, Claude successfully hops out of sight as the box of dynamite detonates - creating mass destruction of the site.

As the smoke unveils - a smug Claude remarks, "Well folks, I guess we know who's champeen now!". In the following long shot; it's revealed that Claude placed the dynamite in the city of Tokyo - making him a hero for unintentionally causing destruction for the enemy. Without doubt, a hysterical ending for war-time audiences and film enthusiasts although the gag would date very quickly once the Japanese surrendered only two years - making the ending seem out of plate for contemporary standards.

A good change from Norm McCabe's usual war-related plots - although Hop and Go only contains some good elements in vein of the definitive Warner Bros. humour. Although the characters are stock personalities - they work well enough to create elaborate, dynamic sequences like the boulder and Claude's enormous leap finale. McCabe continues to expand and search for his personal style. It's a real pity this became McCabe's second to last short for Warners; diminishing his chance of being in the spotlight of other Warner stalwarts like Freleng or Jones. Despite such elements, McCabe's use of war-time references have dated the short and making the short underrated.

Rating: 3/5.