Cartoon Monday

Did you know that Mr. Magoo is a graduate of Rutgers University? Indeed he is. Class of 1928.

Bugs Bunny is an American Grey Rabbit by species.

Similarly, Daffy Duck is an American Black Duck.

But Porky Pig is simply a domestic pig.

Woody Woodpecker is a pileated woodpecker. I don't know what that means either.

Tom from Tom and Jerry is a domestic shorthair cat. Jerry is simply a pest. But man, he can dance. Ask Gene Kelly.

Would you like to know more? Well, not today from me. This is as far as I got in my research.

Meandering Saturday

Last night I was channel surfing. It caused me to rethink a few things.

I watched two episodes of The Flintstones. That's a small survey sample admittedly, but it wasn't so cheesy as I expected to remember. I actually remember watching them in prime time when I was 5 or 6. They aged well. Me, I ain't so sure.

Then I watched MASH. My apologies but I can't find the asterisk key to spell it out correctly. Anyway, what struck me the most was Hawkeye. He was really kind of a jerk. But it was also only two episodes.

Of course, what I wanted to see was a baseball game. But I suppose it's the wrong time of year for that, eh?

Next I watched a couple episodes of the reboot of Duck Tales. I'm sure I've said it before, but that reminded me that cartoons can be entertaining. More so than a lot of presumed mature programs.

I followed that with starting into my latest reading, Theodore the Great. It's about Teddy Roosevelt. I'll let you know what I think, because I'm sure you all want to know.

Bye for now.

My life has become more animated

I've spent the past three days at 7PM watching Cartoon Network. It seems that one of my favorite cartoons from when I was a kid, Scooby-Doo, has been rebooted. There's more emphasis on humor and the characters look somewhat different from their initial incarnations, and Scooby's English is much too clear. Still, it's been entertaining, and I look forward to more episodes.

The fact is that in recent years I've found myself drawn (rim-shot!) more towards new cartoons than most any other type of new entertainment. Family Guy and the like exempted, the new shows are on the whole quite a bit more clever than comedies such as found on major networks in prime time, and particularly more clever than whatever Seth McFarlane may conjure up. I think in part that's because they have no pretense about drama of any sort, an illness which seeps into almost all live action comedies. They're just trying to be funny. I like that. I like comedies to just be comedies.

I wonder too if it's that the recent cartoons aim higher than simple children's shows. Dan Povenmire and Swampy Marsh, creators of Phineas and Ferb (perhaps the greatest episodic cartoon ever) have said that they weren't drawing for children but simply didn't want to forget a segment of their audience. They had each before worked on The Simpsons and the aforementioned Family Guy and wanted to create something which entertained without being quite so raunchy as adult oriented animation had become. Let's face it: too many adult shows in general have become too reliant on easy, low brow humor rather than fully attempt genuine wit.

Jimmy Neutron and The Fairly Oddparents began my animation rebirth, although several years after each had debuted. Phineas and Ferb likely sealed it, so much so that I look for new cartoons far ahead of any other new show. Penn Zero, Wander Over Yonder, Gravity Falls (not a full on comedy but often funny, and smart without pretense) all are high on my list when I'm seeking new episodes as I channel surf during the evening. And of course the new Scooby-Doo. I still snicker at one particular joke from Monday's premier. When Fred was asked if he feared heights he answered, "No. I fear widths."

Too funny. I look forward to more.

A Bolt from the Blue

Last night we sat down, my wife, daughter, and I, and watched the Disney cartoon movie Bolt. It had arrived yesterday (it should have arrived sooner, no thanks to the United States Postal Service, but we'll save that issue for a later rant) as part of a movie club Abby has joined, and it made for a neat Monday evening treat to watch a family friendly movie as a family.

I liked it. It was classic and sentimental, with no real crudeness that I can remember. You know, crudeness, which seems to appear even in children's films these days? Why a show or movie aimed at seven year olds has to have bathroom humor even of the weakest strain is beyond me; it certainly can't make our kids more cosmopolitan or mature.

Yet that too is a rant for another day. What I want to talk about now is how we should never allow ourselves to get away from enjoying things aimed at the young. The Wind in the Willows may have been aimed at a younger audience, but I still find passages in it almost magical. Dumbo can bring a tear to the eye, and there are chills for me to this day when Aslan is resurrected and the stone table cracks. In short, we know, as C. S. Lewis points out so correctly, that youth is sentimental. And the proper amount of sentimentality is exactly what we should strive for in our own consideration of the people and things around us.

It is a quality which, it seems to me anyway, is most often found in our children's tales. I see it occasionally in stories aimed at general audiences: The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings books, and In Terry Brooks' The Sword of Shannara. The movie Rudy evokes the right spirit quite well too. Tim Burton's Big Fish is also quaint in a delightful way. Almost anything by Frank Capra should delight the truly open mind.

An interesting contrast can be illustrated in the fact that Silence of the Lambs, a revolting film on several levels and most of those levels cinematic rather than moral (I know the conclusions that some of my readers will jump towards but I assure you that, seen objectively, the movie fails in more ways than simple crudity) won best picture of 1991 over the truly marvelous and well spun Disney cartoon film Beauty and the Beast. If you would kindly set aside any shallow qualms about the folks at Disney adapting the story to its own purposes, I have to believe that part of reason for that travesty is that too many adults feel they can't possibly appear to like a kid's fairy tale ahead of something more 'stark' and 'gritty' and, that awful and arrogant word, 'modern'. We adults have risen above that level of sappiness.

If we have, that is truly sad. Sadder still, only the sentimental among us will recognize that.

Yet rather than end on that note, I will offer you the highest advice that I believe I can: read good children's books and watch good children's movies without shame. You will be a better adult for it. You might (horror of horrors!) find them better than even the best adult stories.