Archive for Hugh Harman

Bosko Does Not Believe in Tears

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 12, 2012 by dcairns

Bosko, star of early Looney Tunes, underwent a mysterious transformation. Here’s Bosko in his best-known form –

I take him to be a little monkey, don’t you? Everybody else is an animal, and he has those cute ears. Surely he’s a chimp or monkey. Of course, there’s also the obvious fact that he’s a thinly disguised rip-off of Mickey Mouse, shorn of the nose-dot and vast, black spherical ears (people assume they’re discs, but they never vary their appearance whatever way MM faces). He even has a Pluto-like dog, Bruno, and a girlfriend who looks just like Bosko in drag, called Honey.

And there’s also the suspicion that he’s a minstrel-like caricature of an African-American. In fact, from 1929, here’s Bosko’s first talkie –

Different voice, and very obviously an Amos ‘n’ Andy style ethnic caricature. But that side of the character recedes as he adopts the eunuchoid falsetto of Disney’s famous mouse. Cartoonist Rudolf Ising denied that Bosko was of any ethnic type, characterizing him as “an inkspot type thing,” but the view of Hugh Harman, who actually dreamed Bosko up, is apparently not recorded.

Then Bosko is acquired by MGM, when Harman & Ising (Harman-Ising well together!) switched studios, and he goes into Technicolor, becoming a little more sugary in the process.

The bratty kid dresses in Mickey Mouse’s red shorts, and the animation is a bit more three-dimensional, the comedy more domestic and less surreal/grotesque. The MGM effect creeping in.

Then this happens –

Bosko has become fully human, or almost, and he’s certainly African-American now. Curiously, the caricature isn’t particularly offensive (to me, anyway, but I wouldn’t presume to speak for everybody). I wonder how audiences reacted to his transformation? At any rate, the character was quickly retired. The more realistic Bosko became, the less fun his adventures seemed. The final phase, though technically the most elegant, is the least pleasurable to watch.

Bosko’s strange evolutionary leap from inkspot/minstrel/monkey to “real boy” is paralleled over at the Fleischer studio by Betty Boop’s transition from poodle to flapper, which is arguably as insulting in its implications. Very oddly, even after her floppy ears had turned into earrings, and her muzzle modified into the low, chinless mouth we know and lust for, Betty continued to go out with Bimbo, a dog. The implications of which are best left unexplored.

The Sunday Intertitle: Following Yonder Starewicz

Posted in FILM, Mythology, Politics with tags , , , , , on December 25, 2011 by dcairns

Because what IS Christmas without stag beetles and roadkill? A sweet, magical, creepy interlude from Wladislaw Starewicz — perfect for zoning out to as you loosen your post-prandial belt. There is something festive about this guy, mainly because his films always look ancient, no matter what good condition you see them in. I’ve seen 1920s films that looked like they were made yesterday, so good was the restoration, but Starewicz, from the beginning to the end of his career, worked in an ancient, fizzy-facky world which communicates with our own only by ribbons of crumbling celluloid, twining through the Olderness to reach silver nitrate fingers into our semi-slumbering brains.

More wintry madness –

And, maybe best of all –

From Saint Nick to Old Nick — it’s a slippery slope.

Merry Christmas. Peace on Earth.

This is from PEACE ON EARTH, made ironically in 1939, which the last man on Earth falls to the bullet of the second-last man on Earth, right after fatally plugging said penultimate fellow, and the planet is inherited by the anthropomorphic, cel-animated woodland creatures, who build villages out of the discarded tin helmets of the dead. Finding a discarded Bible, they learn to read it via the wise old owl, and their simple hand-drawn 12fps brains embrace the mottos within. “Goodwill to men — but what are men?” ask the baby squirrels, too young to have seen a real man in the wild.

It’s a powerful message — maybe, when all that’s left of us is our painted squirrels, we will know peace.

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