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Release Date: August 22nd, 1942
Series: Merrie Melodies
Director: Friz Freleng
Story: Mike Maltese
Animation: Manny Perez
Musical Direction: Carl Stalling
Starring: Mel Blanc (Bugs), Arthur Q. Bryan (Elmer), The Sportsmen Quartet (Mounties)
(You may view the cartoon here.)
The 1942 release season of Warner cartoons has been a steady one. Cartoons are cementing their footing and identity through more purposeful direction, more inventive animation, stronger risk taking and a general escalation of energy and talent. Steadiness of growth is reflected not only through the creatives that sow these cartoons, but the characters reflecting the growth. Both Bugs and Elmer, as they are relevant to this cartoon, are prime reflections of such.
Fresh Hare is a bit of an end to an era, in that it marks the twilight of "fat Elmer". His next appearance in The Hare-Brained Hypnotist--another outing by Friz Freleng--would see him permanently affixed to his smaller, more diminutive and perhaps considerably more pathetic nature. A significant development, in that it reflects a certain stability. The direction in which the creatives want to take the characters is becoming more clear and less tangled by the day.
Complacency in security is felt even in this cartoon. While it could be chalked up as just another Bugs and Elmer partnership, that in itself is a positive sign. A demonstration that the cartoons have reached a point where they're allowed to be innocuous, allowed to have a routine. To repeat a consistent sentiment among this release season, not every cartoon finds the need to reinvent the wheel anymore. Such is progress.
Granted, this short does bear a bit of a unique "novelty"--to be charitable in descriptions--than other "just another Bugs and Elmer team-up". This is one of the last remaining Bugs shorts to be unrestored; almost. Screenshots and clips of a restoration have been teased in trailer clips, but Warners themselves have been sitting on releasing a clean version for reasons that will soon become apparent.
Nevertheless, our seemingly innocuous story now finds itself in the Canadian Rockies. Elmer's job-of-the-day is now that of a Mountie, seeking to restore peace and justice by capturing a nefarious, wanted criminal with whiskers and a cotton-tail. Of course, this carrot chomping cad refuses to hand Elmer such an easy victory, much to the joy and rapture of the audience.
It's certainly telling that the first glimpse of the short is Bugs' smiling mug. That the cartoon doesn't begin with the exposition of Elmer introducing his occupation, hushing the audience and giving his spiel about wabbit hunting is indicative of the Bugs Bunny mania of the times. Life is short--especially with the rise of the war and the catharsis of anarchy and energy, audiences craved the mischief and rebellion of the rabbit. Slow, crawling exposition is passé. Time lost that could better be spent craving and looking at and celebrating the rabbit.
From this wanted poster in which Bugs resides, the growing pains in nailing his design are still evident. Bugs is recognizably Bugs, but there are details and specificities and nuances in his construction that are still endearingly amiss: The tall, ovoid head, the wide ears, the smooth cheeks, the fat nose, the widely spaced eyes. Freleng's Bugs seemed to take a bit longer to settle into an artistic identity than the other directors; Chuck Jones' Bugs of the '40s may seem a bit divorced physically of how he would appear later on, but a visual identity was clear. Likewise with Bob Clampett's Bugs, who, with the benefit of having the former Avery-unit artists who knew the rabbit since the beginning, perhaps achieved the first "correct looking" rabbit out of any of them. Freleng's Bugs is a bit locked in purgatory artistically, but personality, wit and characterization more than make up the difference.
On the topic of wit, Freleng and Maltese's combined comedic savvy is already present in the details of Bugs' wanted poster--most notably the preference for his return to be found dead. Existence of the poster is clever in itself, with the discrepancy between Bugs' smiling, pleasant face and such harsh threats below. Through this, the poster is commanding, bold, enunciating a real threat of death and danger out for Bugs. Stalling's musical accompaniment of "Song of the Mounted Police" matches this inflated importance in obtaining such a rascal. Audiences are left to pontificate what horrible, nefarious deeds Bugs could have done to warrant such tonal stoicism. This discrepancy is intended to be as amusing as it is intriguing.
Thus, the immediate contrast of Elmer admiring the poster, ushered in through a jump cut (with the music softening in its energy to match Elmer's own physical and emotional softness) is beautifully calculated. A well timed chortle cements notions of his incompetence; there's no need for him to trip over himself or engage in a stupid act to enunciate his incompetence. The laugh, the vacant smile, and the overwhelming sense that he's an overgrown baby playing dress-up suffices. Freleng and Maltese's objective, dry presentation of all of the above works wonderfully to the favor of the humor. Audiences are encouraged to read between the lines and laugh at the asininity of the arrangement.
Always considerate of how words and phrases will sound coming out of these characters, Mike Maltese ensures that his writing appeals heartily to Elmer's speech impediment: "At wast--da wong awm of da waw is weaching out and cwosing in on yoo!"
Creases above the cheeks, a prominent lower lip, and equally large, ovoid eyes hint at Dick Bickenbach's involvement in this inaugural scene. As is typically the case, his casting is wise--the deftness often found in his animation works to the scene's favor here, with Elmer's fist shaking believably tactile, the appeal in his draftsmanship natural and inviting.
Elmer's dubious credibility, as mentioned above, is most succinctly caricatured through his hat falling over his eyes as he shakes his fist. A very apt way to illustrate that his metaphorical and literal britches are too big for him. There's a certain innocence dominating the pause as he readjusts his hat that is greatly articulated by Bickenbach; it's difficult to imagine the same in, say, a Gil Turner scene. This sequence may seem innocuous, with Elmer making threats and shaking his fist and little else, but a steady hand is required to capture these menialities so charmingly.
Vacant, naive staring morphs into wide, eager eyes as something captures Elmer's attention off-screen. Reaction lines and dilated pupils again certifiably mark this as Bickenbach's handiwork.
By way of a shaky camera pan to a mound of snow, a pause, and a sweeping pan forward after that, the audience is formally introduced to a series of rabbit tracks. The tracks are obliging of logic at first, pressing forward with no tricks or interruptions. They soon curve towards the base of the tree trunk, which prompts the camera to investigate…
...only to reveal that the prime suspect has vandalized his own bounty. A minor jump cut ensues in this close-up of the poster for clarity. It isn't anything too jarring, as all the necessary information has been established in the previous wide shot and this close-up is more of a clarification and continuation, but the difference in backgrounds--the empty, murky skies with trees in the background giving way to an attractive but random sunset with no forestry--prompts a jolt that interrupts the flow of the shots.
In any case, the most vital information is clearly established: this horrendous fiend is on the loose nearby and has the good humor--or brazenness--to defile his own likeness.
Such a routine of rabbit tracks, tree, poster is repeated a handful of times. With the exception of Elmer first looking at the ground, the maneuvering of the camera is admirably smooth. The aforementioned routine cycles a handful of times, sewing a palpable anticipation in pursuing these "clues" through rabbit tracks. Simply panning the camera between trees and posters would lose the mystery and the rhythm, which loses the fun.
Scenarios such as this one typically follow the rule of threes. Technically, the sequence does abide, in that there are three posters in the segment, but instead of saving the deviation for last, that is instead shunted right into the middle. Perhaps on account of there being a poster before this segment, which technically does make this one the golden third. In any case, the pin-up poster that follows is certainly a bold departure from the juvenility of Bugs' scribbles. Freleng shorts seemed to be a particularly prominent home for such pin-up gags, as The Hardship of Miles Standish and Duck Soup to Nuts bear similar highlights. The playful, dry objectivity of something so scandalous seems to match his tone well.
This second tree has Bugs' footprints careening behind the tree rather than the front--such keeps the pacing fresh, lithe, and the rhythm flowing in a wave of sorts that is mimicked through the poster/tracks/tree pan of the camera. Like its predecessor, the close-up of the pin-up arrives at a bit of a jump, the tree leaning at a more extreme angle in the wide shot than the close-up, but is largely inconsequential.
More means of maintaining visual interest are secured through the next installment in the cycle, which is the introduction of a birch tree homing this next poster. There is just a little bit of monotony inherent to the structure of the gag, anticipating the audience will be lulled into a sense of rhythm that begs to be broken, but Freleng does a fine job of making sure the presentation is varied and interesting to eliminate any undesired platitude.
The most shocking--or, perhaps, contextually speaking, cathartic--is saved for last, revealing the contents of the final poster to be Bugs defaced to look like Hitler. Stalling interjects a brief snatch of "Oh, You Beautiful Doll", its irony dripping just as intended all over the gag. This special addition of musical commentary and the catharsis of mocking and belittling a tyrannical dictator cements its place as the last highlight, as it will thusly be the most memorable. Imparting the vision and message of belittled dictators is a greater priority to remember than the shock value of a sultry pin-up girl; certainly very specific to its time.
Cannons and airplanes are hastily scrawled on the poster, and labeled as such for additional juvenility that would surely make the real Hitler bristle. It’s almost difficult to remember that Bugs is the one implied to have been defacing these posters; rather than making smug comments about his handsomeness or perhaps asking for a larger bounty, he instead takes the "kid doodling on the margins of his homework" approach. In doing so, it keeps him grounded and likable. A demonstration that he has a sense of humor about himself. All the more important justification for the audience to want to meet him.
Given that the camera's next destination lands on an open rabbit hole, granting of their wish seems imminent. A patch of brown, exposed dirt surrounds the snow, calling direct attention to the hole through the difference in color and value. Thus, Bugs' presence is unmistakably clear.
Bickenbach continues to endear through his animation and acting choices for Elmer. Elmer hopping into the scene, a visible spring in his step and having to adjust his hat after it falls over his face offers a charming juvenility that translates into an underdog dynamic. His hopping and hat adjusting exudes vulnerability, which, in turn, sews a greater opportunity for comedy. We already know that he is going to be way in over his head against this foe. Regardless, the exuberance and confidence he emanates is too charming to refute. As many Elmer shorts seem to go, the audience represses the urge to correct or spoil his fun and instead humor him like a little kid playing dress-up.
Little kid turned mountie thusly places his offering. It's telling that this introduction of bait isn't met with much buildup; similar to how the camera was quick to jump to Bugs at the top of the cartoon rather than flirting with exposition, the need for a "wabbits wove cawwots" spiel has been made obsolete. We've become so acquainted with the characters and their shtick at this point that the directors no longer feel the need to retread over previously established information. Even if this happened to be someone's first time ever seeing Bugs and Elmer--which, in 1942, was possible--they would assume that there is a history to the logic of Elmer's bait placing.
More praises for Bickenbach’s animation as Elmer hops over the horizon, the motion lithe, snappy, youthful. His hat rises and falls at a different speed than the rest of his body. While seemingly menial in the details, such indicates a real consideration for the physics of this animated world, which thusly encourages greater depth and dimension in the acting and motion.
Just as planned, the bait is taken. Fresh Hare is yet another short in the books to boast a "Bugs Bunny finger walk", which is an extension of some of his crowning cartoons. A gag that is embedded in his DNA, per its usage in A Wild Hare, the aforementioned growth and streamlining of these cartoons and the characters can be felt by just how much more self assured, confident, and playful it is, rather than meticulous and lugubrious.
Like his vandalism of the posters, this lighthearted acting and milking of the moment is an indication that this creature with his anthropomorphic finger stylings has a playful sense of humor about himself. Only feral rabbits immediately reach for the carrot. Even wiseacre, unassuming but unmistakably wily rabbits who cautiously feel up the carrot, the audience laughing at the novelty of this human action being performed by a wild rabbit, has gone out of fashion. What was once revolutionary in its novelty is now but a simple launchpad for subversions and tweaks and caricatures of the same idea.
Freleng's prowess for musical timing is evident in this scene, with Stalling's music and Treg Brown's side effects impressively obliging of the hand's motions. Each time the fingers break the snow, Brown inserts a satisfying "pop" to make the motion more tangible. Attentive animation supports the general crispness of the motion--indentations in the snow are where they should be, some effects animation of the snow droplets flying out from the pressure of Bugs' fingers add a visual pop to support the auditory pop, and so on. Deliberate, calculated, and playful, each pop of the finger builds the momentum to Bugs taking the bait.
Thus, in a decidedly Bugs Bunny-esque rug pull, he retracts his arm back into his hole rather than taking the carrot. This, too, is fetching in its presentation: timed on ones, gentle smearing in the hand offers the illusion of speed, which is furthered by the way it conforms to a smooth, snaking arc. Unlike the intentionally fragmented finger walk and snow plucking, the arm retraction is quick and flowing, offering a palpable contrast against the prior buildup.
All of the above praises are relevant for the hand returning, now donning snow shoes. Bugs' hand marches swiftly across the snow, with no sinking necessary; Stalling's triumphant, satisfied music score mimics such smoothness by being much more chipper, connected, controlled. Even something as simple as Bugs placing his hand down, Bickenbach's animation manages to inject personality into that, too--one "foot" lands before the other, offering an added jaunt and mischief to the motion. So much life and intent in such a silly visual.
This is nothing in comparison to the discarding of the snow shoes in lieu of grabbing the carrot. Smears and arcs again dominate to induce speed, urgency, elasticity. Spacing of the drawings is deliberate in how best to make the action tangible; as the snow shoes are flung upwards, they hang in the air for two frames rather than one, enabling the audience to register that they've been thrown away. Given the small size of the props, this added clarity is very important. Elsewhere, Bugs' hand lingers, the spacing between drawings much shorter. Such an ease of motion juxtaposes strongly against the whipping arc and follow-through of his fingers. Drybrush accompanies this action, so as to differentiate the force and motion between his grabbing the carrot and his flinging the snow shoes.
Even an afterthought like the carrot going into the hole has energy--Bugs' arm pushes forward in a tiny overshoot before ziplining back into the hole...
...almost.
Evolution of how animation is becoming caricatured is perfectly displayed in this scene. The fundamentals of how to convey motion are established. Now, the objective is to see how they can be manipulated to evoke feeling, whether that be physical or emotional. Audiences may not be saying "that's an overshoot" or "that's a smear", but they can certainly feel them. Bickenbach was especially gifted in these Freleng cartoons at cementing the way a sequence of drawings or motions is supposed to feel, rather than simply how it looks.
Elmer is introduced at the last second, both his entrance and Bugs' retraction of his arm timed on one's. The overlapping visuals and cluster of action that ensues feels abrasive, sudden, violent, offering a delightful contrast to the domesticity surrounding Bugs' routine. Said routine has been such a point of focus that the audience is likely to have forgotten that Elmer is even there and waiting to catch his prey.
Note how Elmer gradually eases into himself, a series of smears lessening in intensity as his body gets "caught up into frame" rather than simply being a matter of smeared one frame, normal the next. Certain parts of his body, such as his hand and foot, remain enlarged while the rest of his body is to normal scale so as to indicate the vestiges of this fast, violent motion. The actions flow easier and prevent any jittering or flashing that may take the audience out of the scene.
"Come on out, you wabbit! Come on, now--you'we undew awwest!"
Elmer's tugging of his handcuffs as he scolds Bugs are short, quick--there's a certain desperation in these little movements that seeks to demonstrate his authority. A reminder that Bugs has been caught by the bigger guy, rather than an actual attempt by Elmer to heave Bugs out of the hole. There's just enough resistance on Bugs' behalf to demonstrate his reluctance towards giving up, but not to the complete point of a tug-o-war. Having his hand splayed open conveys surprise, vulnerability.
And then, curiosity. Similar to how Bugs' snow shoe routine mirrors A Wild Hare's carrot feeling, Bugs' investigation of the cuffs--flicking them, playfully accentuated through both Stalling's music score and Brown's metallic sound effects--could be seen as an extension of his gun flicking in Wild Hare. Like the snow shoe parallel, a greater flippancy and leisure surrounds the demonstration here than in the aforementioned cartoon. We have a greater understanding of Bugs now than we did then, which eliminates the need to portray him as some slow, calculated, innocent and cautious denizen of the forest. No need for lugubrious caution. Likewise, the pacing of these cartoons has been inflated in the two years since Wild Hare, as mentioned before. Bugs' flicking here isn't even out of caution or investigation to save himself, so much as it is something to play with and interact with.
Flicking of the cuffs is comparatively quick to accommodate for where the flicking is headed: Elmer's buttons. Again, the sense of Bugs playing around and amusing himself rather than demonstrating a sincere concern for his safety and investigation of his surroundings is strongly felt. Cleverly, Stalling and Brown differentiate their music and sound effects accordingly from the cuff flicking. This second outing with the button has less echo and is less tinny than the initial cuff flicking, the second button and third flick in the series is similarly juxtaposed, and so on. Such communicates a tangible sense of progression, which proves helpful for the trajectory of the oncoming punchline. The handcuffs being the same shade of gold as Elmer's buttons unify the visuals and allow the audience to track the progression more easily. Additionally, the gold reads more clearly against Bugs than silver. Every little detail has its purpose and intent.
Such incessant flicking culminates into a foreseeable--but no less amusing--payoff of Elmer's nose being the final recipient of the flicks. In spite of its predictability, the success of the gag is owed to its unification and differentiation. It unifies, in that his bulbous nose is not dissimilar from the shapes of the buttons. It differentiates, in that his nose iis much more plasticine and soft than the metal of the buttons or cuffs--the sounds of the cartoon dutifully mimic this, whether it be through Stalling's alarmed music sting scoring Elmer's invasion of privacy or Brown's soft, sproingy boing sounds to offer a mischievous elasticity.
More dominant arcs follow Bugs' retreat back into the hole, supporting prior claims of clear, flowing motion. First Bugs...
...then Elmer. A two part reaction rooted in rhythm.
If Bugs' cuff flicking is a parallel to A Wild Hare's gun flicking, then the tug-o-war of handcuffs that does ensue, having been hinted at with Elmer's desperate tugs prior, offers a parallel to a similar back and forth in Wabbit Twouble. Being a Tex Avery and Bob Clampett hybrid cartoon, the motion in Twouble's example was much more exaggerated and even manic than it is here with the comparative directorial stolidity of Freleng. Here, the motion is driven by an obvious logic (rather than Twouble's prioritization of feeling and caricature) and boasts ferocity and tension over exorbitance. One example is not more correct than the other. Regardless, Bugs' forceful tugging pins him as an annoying, unobliging roadblock, which benefits the comparatively literal execution. There is a strength and edge to such a literal back and forth.
More arcs means more smooth, flowing animation--something that is worth praising, but perhaps amusingly so, given that this pertains to the act in which a bomb sails out of the hole and lands at Elmer's side. Elmer lands on the ground a few beats before the bomb, whose drawings are spaced more evenly to give extra air time and, thusly, slightly more time for the audience to register what has suddenly been affixed to the other end of Elmer's cuffs.
This subversion happens incredibly quickly. There is no bloated pause to inform that Bugs has weaseled himself loose of Elmer's clutches. Instead, the bomb is an immediate introduction, and Elmer's realization of its presence is nearly vicarious with the audience's. In doing so, directorial sympathy resides with Elmer, in that this information is being fed to both him and to the audience in real time. Had Bugs been the main focus of this sequence, there would have been a shot of him sneaking out of the cuffs and replacing it with the bomb. Bugs' time will come soon; for now, it's important to sympathize with Elmer, as it allows the audience to get to know him better and understand the threat he poses (or lack thereof).
Animation is continually lithe and worthy of praise in both Elmer landing with the bomb and his attempts to run away. His landing on one foot and then the other sustains his own arc, which makes the movement feel more natural, organic, and flowing. Shaking his head as he slowly rises up is a great secondary action, juxtaposing against the comparative objectivity of the bomb bouncing to a halt. Many overlaid actions that vary in timing and spacing--it's no small feat that the shorts have evolved enough to look and move like this.
Elmer's frantic scrambling away from the bomb is more visible in its flashiness and animated technique. Movements of his hands and legs both follow more prominent arcs, keeping the movement clear and digestible to the audience--an important objective, given that everything happens so quickly and is prone to lose clarity. These jumping and running takes have a palpable gentility and anticipation in their technique that proves to be a nice inverse against his yanking and tugging on Bugs' handcuffs prior. We've been--and will continue to be--on this cut for awhile, so maintaining visual interest is important, and there is no better way to do that than by contrast.
Even the bomb has its own gentle elasticity--not dissimilar to the plasticity of Elmer's frantic scrambling--demonstrated both through its bouncing settle on the ground and the very slight tug from the tension of Elmer's distance. The elasticity is a bit of a cheat, as no bomb would actually move like that, but it's for the sake of clarity and caricature.
Physics become a bit more grounded when the bomb inches closer to Elmer after another fall. Thus inflates the threat of the bomb, as it is literally growing more severe and consuming. To have the bomb inch closer just rubs salt in the metaphorical wound regarding its attachment. Likewise, in spite of the muddied print quality, the wick is lit--time is short for old Elmer.
Thus spurs a frantic search for keys. As absurd as this entire charade is--Elmer unable to locate his keys as he's tied to a bomb that was just so conveniently available to Bugs--the direction takes sympathy on him: Stalling's music swells in its dramaticism to mirror Elmer's fear, but has just enough of a playful edge to keep it funny. Elmer's helpless search, indicated through audio clues and his frantic patting down of his body, reminds the viewer of the stakes: him having a solution that he can't reach is more damning than having no solution at all.
Most damning is the revelation that Bugs is the one in possession of the keys. The camera seamlessly pans to the culprit in a very swift, objective reveal. In doing so, it also prompts a switch from Gerry Chiniquy's animation of Elmer to Dick Bickenbach's animation of Bugs. Freleng wasn't typically a director who switched out his animators mid-scene; Bickenbach seemed to have the strongest hold of Bugs in the Freleng unit of animators. Likewise, Bugs' movements are comparatively more stolid and leisurely than Elmer's, meaning that there isn't a lot of flashy smearing or movement to distract from potentially weaker draftsmanship. Thus, it may have been a priority of Freleng's to cast an animator he knew could possess such innate appeal.
Being the first scene to show Bugs in his full grandeur, nailing his appeal is important as a first impression. The reveal is sharp through its nonchalance—the camera has been so focused on Elmer and his hysterics that it never occurs that Bugs could have taken the keys, rather than Elmer simply losing them through his own incompetence. Defiance of logic and how calm this defiance is executed is funny, fetching, intriguing.
Freleng and Maltese are able to straddle a line between collected, charismatic confidence and wily mischief: Bugs' carrot chomping (and, by proxy, crumb dribbling) is dismissive and insulting in its lackadaisy in the face of Elmer’s freakout. Circling the keys in his fingers is playful, mocking. To be doing his iconic tree lean pose and eating a carrot while observing Elmer panic is amusingly cold hearted.
To make the keys more appealing, they're positioned towards the middle of the screen, so that it's the first object the audiences eyes default to—and with it, the cruelty of Bugs' actions. Positioning of the tree forms a frame around the keys, with the dark value of the bark and light of the keys bringing greater clarity and attention to the metallic link to Elmer’s livelihood.
An utterance of “Eh, what’s up, doc?" not only fulfills Bugs' catchphrase quota of the cartoon, but exemplifies the aforementioned observations of cruelty. He knows perfectly well what is up, given that he is what's up. His inquiry here has a graver gravity to it than it would in the usual circumstances when Elmer has a gun pinned to his chance. At least then, it's out of defensive provocation. Here, Bugs is strictly on the offence. To ask such a calm rhetorical while Elmer is audibly heard panicking off screen is a new level of cold.
Intriguingly, Bugs visibly discards his carrot when advising Elmer to "keep ya shoit on"--this is a direct disengagement from his leisurely observation, demonstrating a forced change of focus. He'll help him, but only out of obligation. There's a sense of disruption, inconvenience, and even contempt behind his carrot throwing.
"Gee, he's an excitable type" formally acquaints Bugs with the viewers through snarky asides. Now, the viewers are on his level. Making such an ironic remark to the audience with such vocal sincerity displays a certain friendliness--or, at the very least, engagement--that makes Bugs more interpersonal and less of a cold-hearted maniac.
In "helping" Elmer, Bugs rifles through all of the various keys on the ring with agonizing leisure and lugubriousness. All of the locations named ("Nah lessee nah... da g'raaage... d' cahhh... fuh d' front doah...") are cleverly domestic and far removed from the hysteria of the circumstances unfolding off-screen. It's a very clever Maltesian dissonance.
Moreover, such domesticity gives way to a punchline: the next key that Bugs identifies is met with a knowing glance at the audience and a wolf whistle promiscuous in its implications. A Pest in the House would make the very same joke.
Just as the audience was lost in Elmer's routine of handcuffing, tugging, and panicking, the audience gets lost in Bugs' key counting. Elmer's panicked orations have subsided from off-screen, directing full focus onto Bugs. Thus, the inevitable explosion from off-screen is made much more shocking, timed just so that the audience could feel amused guilt at letting their guard down.
Freleng would perfect the art of timing his explosions for comedy and impact. While the peak is yet to come, its timing here is certainly a great precursor to the sort of strategic placement and irony surrounding the blasts in coming cartoons. Bugs' declaration of "Ah, here it is!", and going so far as to take the key off his ring to prove it--which is cheated off with an unobtrusive tug, proper physics not a priority--is the tripwire that launches the blast off-screen. A wonderful display of the calm, collected richness in Freleng's trademark irony.
Unlike most cartoon explosions, the blast here is not a flashy, bombastic orange mushroom cloud that envelops the screen. Instead, it's communicated only through a blast of white, shot at a double exposure to have the glow reflect against Bugs. Harsh simplicity of the white glow is objective, bold, and perhaps even more "realistic", which thereby makes the explosion seem more painful and horrifying. Likewise with Bugs remaining frozen in place, key still present in his outstretched hand. That single snapshot of the white glow, the frozen Bugs and the outstretched key are a perfect culmination of these events.
Any mortification from Bugs is present only for a second. His brief, open mouth gape offers a springboard into a disingenuously content smile, turning his attention to the audience. This change is scored by some rather gradual motion--there are many drawings arranged in a rather evenly spaced sequence, giving the effect of a molasses floatiness, but it supports the very purposeful lack of urgency exhibited by Bugs. More time is allotted for the audience to bask in the dripping, decidedly Freleng-esque self aware pause as Bugs merely stares at the audience in neighborly complicity.
"Oh well". Blanc perfectly nails the disingenuousness in Bugs' delivery. It isn't overly patronizing or mocking, but clearly too nonchalant for its own good.
To support the mantra of "no harm [to Bugs], no foul", he wipes his hands off as if he just finished tending to some dirty work. A great bit of character acting that greatly encapsulates Bugs' flippancy; Treg Brown magnifies the hand wiping sound effects to bring attention to such. One wonders if Elmer is the first Mountie that Bugs has blown to smithereens. Perhaps those calls for his bounty to be returned "preferably dead" were not mere exaggeration.
That the camera doesn't budge from its post and follow Bugs away hints that he may not be getting off as easily as he would assume.
Sure enough, the throes of Arthur Q Bryan's voice dominate the screen, soon to be pursued by a fully in-tact Elmer a second later.
This, too, is a wonderful display of Maltesian brand subversion that was so prevalent in The Squawkin' Hawk. Elmer's sudden return into frame from the other side directly mirrors Bugs' own physically disobedient appearance as he leans against the tree. Through this equal mirroring from both parties, a rhythm is established that gives the cartoon greater balance and coherency. Best of all, Maltese and Freleng resist the compulsion of explaining how this is possible. The cartoon is much more confident for it.
To give Elmer equal playing power against Bugs, he corners him against a tree with his rifle. If only for a moment, Bugs demonstrates a sincere vulnerability and surprise at being cornered. This introduces balance into their dynamic. Elmer has to pose some sort of viable threat against Bugs to raise the stakes of the cartoon. Likewise, Bugs has to react to this threat in some way--keeping it all wise cracks and sarcasm falls into the trap of predictability and induces a certain complacency in the story that loses the audience.
Phil Monroe animates this confrontation, who has since moved from the Jones unit into Freleng's as of Foney Fables. He would jump around units quite a bit--after this, he would have a stint in the Tashlin unit in 1943, and then in the Clampett unit. Given that his artistic style remained practically identical through all units, the sort of Jones-y cuteness always a constant in his work, his flitting around proved especially noticeable.
Sure enough, an appealing cuteness is bestowed to both Bugs and Elmer. The prominent cheeks, the big pupils, generally soft, rubbery construction and tapered eyes are all indicators of his handiwork.
Bugs smacking the rifle out of Elmer’s grip proves to be yet another indication of Bugs' character development. In spite of his boldness in his earliest cartoons, he kept a cool head. Here, the act of smacking the gun away connotes a sort of teenage rebellion. Such is a symptom of the wartime; Bugs' popularity soared during the war with how he was able to react with such anarchy against even his greatest of enemies. Perhaps there's a bit of projection to be found in Bugs' violent disarming of Elmer, with Americans wishing to do the same with their enemies.
It all demonstrates that Elmer’s gun is a mere prop and physical threat to taunt than actually use, given that he doesn’t even attempt to retrieve it. Instead, he’s busy adjusting the hat that has yet again veiled his face with the force of Bugs' disarmament. Both this and the lack of a gun yet again render him vulnerable.
In response to Bugs saying Elmer has "nuttin' on me", Elmer seeks to prove him wrong by way of an exhaustive list. This is accommodated by a close-up. Said cut to a close-up is perhaps a little arbitrary, but reduces monotonous shot flow. Moreover, there's a greater gravity to this spotlight of Elmer pulling out a list he has ready. It makes Bugs' crimes seem bigger and worthy of attention.
Not only that, but the animator switch to Gil Turner in the return to a wide shot is more justified. Turner's animation suffers from the usual pratfalls of weaker draftsmanship, especially in comparison to Monroe's innate cuteness just before. A jump cut--Bugs is now chomping on a carrot, which, while implied to have been taking out as Elmer grabs his list, there isn't enough to motivate or explain the shift in terms of pacing or visual clues--sets the change on further shaky ground. Seeing Bugs physically pull the carrot out in this wide shot would reduce the jolt. Nevertheless, its presence demonstrates a clear disinterest in Elmer reading his crimes. Another form of anarchy.
Bugs feeling up Elmer's clothes as he talks is similarly retaliatory. Execution of this is a bit awkward and unfocused; Elmer momentarily pauses his speech as Bugs feels him up, perhaps implying that he will react, only to continue reading. Floatiness inherent to Turner's sense of timing likewise render Bugs' motions unmotivated and unfocused.
Upon the damning charge of "conduct unbecoming to a wabbit," Bugs steals Elmer's "chapeu" and tries it on for himself. Another great display of his conceit through disinterest, fixating on Elmer's clothes rather than his own list of crimes. Just the same, it proves to be a wonderful example of Elmer's aggressive cluelessness, completely oblivious to this hat pilfering.
"TEN-CHUN!"
Elmer's surprised take has an attractively gelatinous movement to it. Though Turner wasn't the sharpest draftsman, his sense of motion has certainly improved, faring well with little takes like these. Such a take functions as a way to cheat more buttons on Elmer's coat. Normally, he has two, but the jump and the coverage of the paper flying out of his hands allows four to be indiscriminately added onto him. Note how he recovers and stands in profile--this calls more attention to his stance and makes it seem graphic, streamlined, more rigid than if he were standing in the default of 3/4.
"Why, look at you! You call yaself a Mountie. You're a disgrace to the regiment! I'm gonna drum you outta da soivice!"
More aimlessness in execution. Freleng could probably have afforded a cut to a more interesting camera angle--sternness in Bugs' voice and the austere, rolling drone of the music command a stronger sense of drama than is actually reflected in the filmmaking. The result instead feels stagnant and bloated.
In any case, an effective subversion is spawned. Audiences are led to believe that Bugs is going to pluck the buttons, one by one, off of Elmer's coat. He raises the top one gingerly...
...only to immediately tear off Elmer's entire coat. Brown's ripping sound effects are loud and harsh and score the abrasiveness of the action well.
Thus inspires an eventual close-up. In doing so, the mushy scraggly ness of Turner’s Bugs is more visible. Motion of Bugs’ tearing could benefit from a more defined sense of weight and purpose—nevertheless, Turner does a good job of maintaining visual interest by varying the sizes of cloth being torn.
At one point, a badge is visible flying off…
...preceding the topper of Bugs removing Elmer's boxer shorts. Ambiguity of Elmer's off-screen response lessens the humiliation of Bugs stripping him naked. To show Elmer cowering and crying or protesting about this humiliating development would be a bit much, making the gag uncomfortable rather than funny. Especially in tandem with a character as pathetic as Fudd. Instead, the sly, contemplative pause as Bugs holds out the shorts, grins, returns them and waits for him to put them back on celebrates the scandalousness of the gag rather than seeking to aggressively degrade.
While Elmer readjusts himself, Bugs taps his fingers against his arms in waiting. Turner's tapping animation isn't synced to Stalling's "waiting" music cue, making the animation a bit discombobulated and aimless, but the main idea is nevertheless communicated.
Freleng trades one means of humiliation for another. We anticipate finding Elmer in his boxers—which is true—but the addition of an ill-fitting corset is an unexpected surprise. The Wacky Wabbit boasted a similar gag involving Bugs’ weaponizing of Elmer’s corset for the sake of humiliation; Wabbit soaks in the degradation just a bit more, with Bugs poking fun at Elmer’s physical appearance and Elmer feeling the need to justify himself to the audience. His form and how the corset interacts with it is a greater priority than its utilization here, where its mere appearance is enough.
Phil Monroe has the honor of animating the gag here. Bugs is a bit more rambunctious with his manipulation of the corset here, pulling it as tight as he can before it snaps back onto Elmer and sends him flying. Monroe’s animation is appealing, cute, rightfully snappy—Brown’s stretching and reverberating sound effects add a lot to the tangibility of the motion, but perhaps contribute too much; Bugs’ “At ease!” is easily lost beneath the ruckus. Wabbit’s corset gag feels more focused, coherent, motivated than the one here, but the spontaneity is fitting of the scene’s needs and pacing.
With that act of degradation taken care of, Bugs tops off the goods with a signature blown kiss.
Monroe’s timing in his animation is, like most animators, unique: a bit of an unnecessary pause lingers between Elmer flopping onto the ground and Bugs blowing the kiss. An awkwardly idle beat, though nevertheless slight. It seems to be an invitation for the audience to bask in Elmer's humiliation before switching gears.
There's another slight pause after Elmer pursues Bugs, in which the camera focuses on the discarded pile of clothes left behind...
...temporarily.
These pauses could probably be shaved off just a bit, but there is an important and purposeful mundanity surrounding them. Given that Elmer just pursued Bugs in his underwear, the camera is supposed to linger and allow the audience to bask in the irony. Another example of Freleng's wry, objective sense of humor. His sense of timing would sharpen and be perfected in the coming years, but the execution here is certainly serviceable.
Moreover, such pauses juxtapose against the rapid, jubilant chase. Freleng's direction has since taken sympathy on Bugs--Stalling's score of "You Hit My Heart with a Bang" is celebratory and raucous rather than hurried, anxious, or imposing to reflect Elmer's demeanor. The scene likewise starts with Bugs fully in view, with Elmer having to catch up behind him. Not only does that demonstrate Bugs' authority in being in the lead, but it likewise makes the chase more interesting visually and induces a climactic sense of gained momentum.
Further visual interest warrants Bugs' proud defiance against physics as he floats in the air. This is an extension of his most prototypal, basic roots, where he was this omnipresent, phantasmagorical pest that could squish himself out of existence with a wave of the arms or fly like a helicopter with his ears. Granted, the demonstration here is much more mature, grounded, even professional, but it obeys the same root logic of Bugs' enigmaticness.
In doing this, his arms are leisurely hung behind his head as he leans backwards. Running backwards indicates an impressive confidence and control in his direction--he doesn't feel the need to look over his shoulder or second guess where he's going. Leaning back likewise communicates leisure, nonchalance; to him, this is all in good fun rather than a life or death scenario.
Leaning backwards makes it easier to kick up snow in Elmer's face. The execution is cheated ever so slightly, as his feet don't necessarily touch the same ground plane that Elmer is running on, making it feel as though the snow is materializing out of nowhere. Nevertheless, due to the breakneck pacing of the chase, as well as the vague, white snow backgrounds, this cheat can be afforded. Illustrating a laborious running cycle of Bugs painstakingly and realistically kicking up each mound of snow would only be a burden. It's all about momentum and feeling.
Mike Maltese thusly gives way to another signature subversion: a mound of snow prompt Bugs and Elmer to race through it, leaving their silhouettes behind in the process. Brown's race car engine noises as each character approaches does wonders in heightening the juvenility of the chase and speed/impact at which they're running. Pacing is swift and clean, and the sudden extension of these snow-covered environments is novel, but the audience is left wondering if that is all that's left to the gag: just the sight of their silhouettes in the snow. Even by 1942, that was wholly underwhelming.
Which is where, in a twist of Maltesian brilliance, it's revealed that their respective silhouettes are occupied by the other. Two gags are stuffed into one: Elmer somehow managing to surpass Bugs, and the mere visual of the other occupying their silhouettes. This switch is animated clearly and with confidence: the way their forms melt away is feasible and grounded, and the return to the same background pan from before gives a sense of balance and familiarity to the sequence that translates into coherence.
Timing of Elmer’s shocked reaction and the subsequent return to regular affairs is similarly well executed. Rather than occurring in segments--Elmer pauses, looks around, does a shocked take, grows angry, the chase resumes--the change of emotions is all compounded together. Both the initial realization and shocked take (from both parties) occurs while they're running, with the pause accommodating their skidding to a halt being out of necessity to change directions. Thus ensures the momentum of the chase is never broken or lost, which is certainly necessary in climactic moments like these.
Treg Brown’s wet skidding sound is a bit ill fitting, but the gentle wobble as both characters slide to a halt is believable, tactile, pleasing to look at, and the accumulated snow has form and structure. Even the size difference of both characters is accounted for with how much snow is tracked.
A return to the snow mound bookends the scene back to normalcy; such is furthered through the reversal of the same run cycle. Not only is it economical in pencil mileage, but such synchronicity executed with such purpose gives the sequence a clean cut sense of organization.
Admittedly, in spite of such praises, there is a twinge of monotony to this back and forth stretching on for so long. Maltese and Freleng seemed aware of this, as the next few cuts are entirely new environments. Bugs' ears razing the snow into a forest is a refreshing visual differentiation--Treg Brown's electric sawing sound effects playfully enunciate the visual and allow it to thrive.
Elmer covering up the tracks left by Bugs is clever. This, too, is a mirror of sorts to the silhouetted snow mounds. Both in the 1-2 delivery (Bugs leaves his mark, which is then trumped by Elmer's mark), as well as the sense that the gag is building on top of something.
Such sparks the inevitable “ears around the obstacle” gag, which was likewise present in the similarly Maltese-written cartoon, The Heckling Hare. Here, the ear visual is more of a side piece rather than the meat of the gag itself, as was the case in Heckling. Standards for humor--especially involving Bugs--have since evolved.
Here, the ears separating around the pine tree is a provocation for Elmer to follow. Thus predictably results in a collision, which, perhaps unpredictably, results in an impressive display of Christmas ornaments to be revealed after the snow is knocked free of the branches. Realism of the tree pre-collision is a wonderful contrast to the playfulness and whimsy of its aftereffect. Especially when the baubles are animated to reflect and shine and glint, forcing attention onto the extravagance of the display.
Animation of the tree's reverberations are gorgeously frenzied. Instead of being locked into a general AB cycle, framing repeatedly between the same two frames, the tree is actually animated to gradually shed its snow. Drybrushing is applied skillfully to the ends of the snow mounds, creating a convincing motion blur that aids the transition from snow covered to only pine needles. Likewise, the reverberations gently ease back into place, with all of the ornaments correctly tracked into their placement and really selling this feeling of the tree settling into position. Elmer’s own reverberations in his mound of snow are last to subside after the tree, snow mound, seeming to caricature how he sustains the injury more.
A topper to complete the festivities. Intriguingly, Elmer doesn't gawk directly into the camera with his new duds as he does in a synonymous punchline with An Itch in Time. There’s a cluelessness here that is somehow fittingly humble within the short's context.
Likewise, Bugs gets the last laugh in wishing him a “Merry Christmas, Santy!” Given that he was seen tunneling off-screen moments ago, his sudden appearance here is unprecedented and welcome in its surprise. Especially when the sequence has banked itself on establishing tunnels and trails and silhouettes left in the snow. All of that is suspended to preserve his enigmatic spontaneity.
Cutting to a closer shot of Bugs prompts a slight jump cut. The change in background is meant to convey a different camera angle, but the perspective seems to lend itself to a new environment entirely. Trees should feel closer and more clustered to Bugs, and the area of snow on the ground seems much more vast and wide than in the previous shot. This is to account for Bugs' eventual swan dive into the snow (another recurring habit of his early years), but one does feel as though there could have been a smoother means of transition.
In any case, swan diving soon turns to drilling as Bugs carves his own hole into the ground. This little aside is a bit awkward and aimless in its insertion in the sequence--with the camera placing so much emphasis on Bugs' movements, the music score rising in a climactic crescendo, one anticipates for Elmer to directly chase after Bugs. Instead, the camera cross dissolves to the next scene, implying a passage of time and perhaps indifference from Elmer. Consolidating Bugs' dive into the same wide shot, with Elmer doing a surprised, clueless take and then cross dissolving would be a potential fix for clarity and shot flow. Regardless, the close-up as it stands does score the sense of extravagance surrounding Bugs' screwballisms, which is the ultimate takeaway.
Dick Bickenbach returns to animate Elmer's determined trek through the snow. While this could be owed to the lackluster print quality, the lack of definition surrounding Elmer's footprints almost renders him flat-footed rather than evoking the illusion of feet submerged in the snow. Bickenbach's animation is technically correct, in that mounds of snow do not bunch up when directly sticking an object down--however, for the sake of clarity and conveying an idea, a caricature of an action, the residual snow mounds would be appreciated.
"So you call yaself a Mountie!"
What we assume to be is Bugs chiding Elmer is half-correct--he is ridiculing him... but in snowman form. There's a synonymous strand of logic between Bugs making this snowman and the effort placed into defiling his own wanted posters. Confronting the snow-Elmer is amusing, but the implication that he took the time to so painstakingly construct it in Elmer's likeness--the addition of the hat being of particular note, given that it's a mystery how he would have access to one--only to berate it for his own satisfaction is even greater. Bugs goes to great lengths to ensure he gets some heckling in. Even, and especially, if that means he has to create it himself. Such a sense of initiative would be notably lost in the coming years.
Once more does Bickenbach prove to be a fitting casting choice. The appeal of his drawings is certainly helpful, but appeal in timing and motion, even more so. Elmer isn’t beholden to Bugs’ timing, and vice versa—instead, there’s a slight discrepancy, with Elmer winking to the audience as Bugs continues to berate the snowman. Spontaneity of the moment is captured and preserved, selling the feeling that Elmer is encroaching upon the movement. A satisfyingly candid timing that is thusly engaging through its organicism.
"I’m gonna punch you right square in da nose!"
Elmer’s cel is placed on top of Bugs’ as he rears back, cluttering the composition. Thankfully, this is only for a few moments, given that Bugs takes matters into his own hands to clear such space.
Yet again, Bickenbach’s timing is razor sharp. A careful line is straddled between speed and clarity. Drybrushing forms smooth, connecting arcs that allow the audience to track the sudden explosion of movement, so that even if they don’t have time to register where Bugs’ fist is, they can at the very least feel it traveling. Bickenbach even injects a few frames of Elmer’s eyes widening as he realizes what’s coming towards him—that sympathy and sense of spontaneity makes the impact feel much stronger.
Bugs’ wallop amounts in a both impressive and amusingly juvenile punchline that is tailored to the specificities of Elmer’s current design: a heart shaped imprint is cracked into a sheet of ice by way of his posterior.
As high-and-mighty it may be to say over a butt joke, it is a gag that has layers. The resulting visual itself is funny, but the delivery is visually impressive: his reflection is mirrored in the ice, showing him hurtling towards the wall in proper perspective, the cracks on the ice splinter and web and spread realistically (as opposed to simply throwing a cel layer of the imprint on after Elmer makes contact), and, of course, Elmer’s reverberations from the impact are quick, tactile, and organic. Such a juvenile gag is handled with a lot of care in preserving its tangibility. Like the baubles on the Christmas tree, sparkles and reflections don the ice to illustrate just how cold and hard it is. All the more beneficial to conveying Elmer’s blow.
Treg Brown scores the initial contact with a fittingly playful gong sound effect. The echo of the gong does last a bit long, as it lingers long into the next shot, but that is nevertheless a nitpick. Said next shot is reused animation of Bugs’ earlier swan dive. The recycling feels a bit skimpy, economical, like a cheat, but there is a sense of purpose behind it. Unlike before, the action isn’t scored by a musical crescendo to spark excitement and momentum--rather, Stalling's music is literal in its accompaniment of Bugs' motions, drawing further attention to the act of his drilling. Harsh drilling sounds likewise fill any remaining gaps; the act of Bugs digging is more of a priority than its previous usage.
That can be owed to the sudden crunch heard off-screen. A pause gives way to the reveal: a rock, tossed out of the hole with haughty dismissal. Freleng's objective, brooding silence and perfectly timed pause does wonders in communicating a clear sense of annoyance from Bugs off-screen that, in spite of not being seen, is perfectly felt.
This gag is more of the real world, grounded, Maltesian logic so present in The Squawkin' Hawk; it makes sense for Bugs to run into rocks and obstacles underground. Assuming he'd have another clean exit a second time in a row is to be complacent. Like Bugs, the audience purposefully gets swept up into this complacency, so the antithesis of a grounded reaction ironically makes the entire act of Bugs' drilling and zany exits seem even more absurd.
Nevertheless, Bugs is clear to make a proper getaway. Animation switches back to Phil Monroe, recognizable through Elmer's inflated cheeks, splayed, soft hands, and general softness in his construction. Elmer digging his own hole to pursue Bugs adopts the 1-2 pattern of the chase mentioned before. Having this second part, this after shock, this continuation of what Bugs started gives the chase a sense of equilibrium and ensures that one character isn't too far ahead or stranding the other. Likewise, having two drastically different characters perform the same root actions with their differing sensibilities allows these juxtapositions and parallels to be noted. Sure enough, Elmer's digging is much more rudimentary than Bugs' streamlined drilling.
Frantic whistling off-screen detracts Fudd from his work. Continuity of the hat falling over his face is a nice touch--that sort of infantile vulnerability associated with the action is really at its zenith with Monroe's innately infantile expression of the characters.
"Last one's in a rotten egg!"
Not dissimilar to Bugs suddenly appearing out of his hole with Elmer's key ring, or seemingly teleporting behind him during the chase, or popping out of a hole next to him after tunneling straight ahead, Bugs' next surprise appearance comes from behind, gesturing to an empty cave. Having Bugs appear from behind discombobulates the screen direction, which is entirely purposeful--his appearance feels more sudden and abrupt by disrupting the shot flow.
Thus inspires a bloated but no less entertaining sequence of Elmer pursuing Bugs into the cave. Prominent shadows surround the cave to make it seem dark, mysterious, and a generally unideal place for Elmer to be inserting himself into. Discrepancy in value is especially noticeable with the comparatively bright, light, strong white hues of the snow; the difference in atmosphere posed by the cave is palpable.
As Elmer prepares to make his chase, he makes a bit of a display out of gingerly placing his gun to the side. This action is a bit more lugubrious than necessary, though that too comes with an eventual excuse.
It's all preparation for Bugs to substitute himself as Elmer's gun. Demonstrating such care and time to Elmer discarding the real thing draws the audience's attention to it, so that Bugs' eventual replacement is more noticeable. Likewise, its important to illustrate the physics of the gun--how it reacts to being set aside, how it leans against the tree, and so forth--so that Bugs' assimilation can be admired in its believability. His gentle bounces as he reverberates into place is very observational.
Therefore, Elmer's threats of filling the wabbit with wead is accomplished by means of Bugs' pantomime. It's a very silly and perhaps aimless bit, but an amusing one through its conviction. Blanc's performance as he shouts "BANG!" has an appealing, wily raucousness to it. The same is true of the "click! click! cla-click-click!"s as he likewise pretends to be out of bullets.
Stalling's music score is stoic to accompany Elmer's commitment and perceived heroism; a wonderful contrast against Bugs' proud ridiculousness. This dissonance is allowed to speak for itself. No ironic musical stings to inform the audience that they should be laughing. Again, Freleng's directorial confidence through presenting the gags as they are and allowing the audience to draw their own conclusions is successful.
It takes another kiss of death from Bugs--on the lips this time--for Elmer to even realize the conditions of his gun. Bugs' kiss is long, belabored, milking his status as a nuisance.
A slightly awkward pause dominates the empty shot. The shot could have been cut to end sooner, as the lingering seems to indicate that some sort of additional piece of information will be introduced, but is nevertheless menial in the grand scheme of things.
Chase antics prove to be the greater priority. Freleng again is able to breathe through the lens of economy, reusing the same footage as seen before--this, too, is inconsequential, in that this scene is more of a bridge between segments rather than a genuine moment intended to invest the audience.
That's the priority of the next sequence. Following the previously established snow silhouette motif, Bugs carves his imprint; audiences are led to believe that, just like last time, Elmer's will replace it. However, the wide camera registry hints at the opposite. All of the negative space next to Bugs' silhouette is suspiciously vacant.
For a moment.
Thus enables the next gag: Bugs and Elmer making their mark side by side, like a stack of human paper dolls, rather than actually chasing each other. Technically the chase is still on--now, it just concerns who can outpace the other in leaving their silhouette. Beautifully paced and timed, there's a certain musicality to its rhythm with Stalling's climbing chords and Treg Brown's methodical snow impacts. Audiences are encouraged to get lost in this monotonous rhythm.
That way, the sudden appearance of a voluptuous, sultry silhouette is more disarming. To ensure that this change-up communicates clearly, but without sacrificing the momentum and pacing that is so crucial to the success of the gag, the sound of her impact is briefly scored with a revving car engine. Likewise, "her" dryrbrush streaking is white and formless rather than gray signifying Bugs or red for Elmer, maintaining enigmatic anonymity. It's a clever "blink and you'll miss it" gag that relies on "blink and you'll miss it pacing", which thankfully delivers.
Elmer breaks the chain to gawk at the silhouette. Now that the rapid fire momentum of Bugs - Elmer - Bugs - Elmer has slowed, the puffy cheeks, arched eyebrows and splayed hands yet again indicate Phil Monroe is the animator. He does a fine job of conveying Elmer's innocent confusion (enunciated with a very ill fitting "ping!" sound effect that lingers for far too long), as well as packing the necessary punch and impact with his speedy dry brushing.
Rather than ending it right then and there, the charade continues when Bug zips in next to Elmer. Audiences share Elmer's cluelessness and are intended to get so swept up in pondering the gag that they forget about the very present chase.
Continuing the pattern is important, given that the next spotlight is reliant on the familiarity of Bugs' silhouette. Now, the camera cuts to his silhouette, which appears to be in an entirely different environment. It seems to be entirely independent of the snow and Elmer--for a moment, this is disorienting.
Purposefully so. The silhouette has been painted onto a rock, with Bugs asserting himself as the true predecessor to Wile E. Coyote's artistic expression. Fitting, given Maltese essentially co-founded the Road Runner shorts. Its execution here is clever, in that the color of the rock isn't too different than the snow, maintaining a nonchalant discretion. Framing of the shot is strategized so that the real Bugs is perfectly concealed, revealed only when the camera pulls back out upon Elmer's impact.
Introducing Bugs in mid-painting of another silhouette exacerbates his dismissive nonchalance. He can't even be bothered to look at Elmer's bludgeoning, much less take any glee in the pain that has been inflicted or in Bugs' own cleverness. While subtle, the conceit is very thick.
Enter the obligatory Elmer breakdown sequence, which seemed to be the catalyst of most early Bugs shorts. Even as early as mid-late 1942, the novelty was beginning to wane--Elmer would certainly have more breakdowns ahead of him rather than those already traversed, but they would usually be subverted or inflated in some way beyond the formula. His pathos scrounging is more objective here, but understandably so. This is just the beginning.
Maltese's clever word sense comes in clutch with giving an entertaining spin to the sobbing, skillfully appealing to Elmer's speech impediment: Bryan's despairing howls of "I'm a disgwace to the wegiment!" prove irresistible in their attempts to summon at least a smirk. Especially given the utter sincerity in which he declares this.
In fact, this scene almost seems to function solely to give that line. His histrionics are less catastrophic, less despairing and a bit more obligatory than the sort of caterwauling in shorts like A Wild Hare or Elmer's Candid Camera that even erected the trope to begin with. Granted, for the reasons listed above, the viewer doesn't need an exhaustive walkthrough showing every stage of Elmer's grief. Regardless, there is a certain sense of obligation present that prevents it from being too engaging or funny.
Perhaps that is owed to vagueness in Monroe's character acting; very appealing in design and motion, but the act of Elmer kicking and pounding his fists, stopping as soon as Bugs talks, feels stock and shoehorned. Regardless, there are some nice visual clues that exacerbate the patheticness of the Fudd. Without the hat, he seems even more like an overgrown toddler--especially kicking and screaming on the ground. Having him low to the ground and divorced of the authority symbolic through his hat, his pitifulness is on full display.
Of course, Elmer has to stop in order for the story to keep moving. The goal of this scene isn't to mine sympathy, but segue into the next story point once Bugs announces he'll give himself in. This, too, seems a bit hamfisted, in that this sudden reversal from Bugs seems too good to be true. It absolutely is, but one does feel as though there could have been a greater sense of motivation dominating the change beyond "the runtime is coming to a close".
"You weally mean it? It's not anutha twick..." is indicative of how the Bugs and Elmer dynamic has been fleshed out and, by proxy, audiences have become used to these surprises. Bugs' quick change is meant to evoke suspicion. Elmer's line seems to justify and compensate the above flimsiness in Bugs' reversal.
With great triumph, Elmer obeys Bugs' orders to "snap 'em on". The act is quick, swift, streamlined and confident in demonstrating just how quick of a turnaround Elmer’s mood has been subject to. It all occurs so fast that the most immediate indicator of Bugs’ booking is through the effects animation that reverberates once the cuffs have been hooked.
Ironically, it is Bugs who does the leading, seeming as if he's captured Elmer instead of the other way around. Elmer's pathetic flopping as he struggles to keep pace is amusing—again, Monroe’s soft, cute touch really does wonders in exacerbating Fudd’s juvenility. In Monroe’s hands, he’s more infantile than he usually is.
Bugs’ eagerness to be led straight to a firing squad is certainly commendable in its “bravery”. Composition of the execution-to-be is certainly thoughtful: chiseled designs of the Mounties are a beautiful contrast against the rounded Bugs and even Elmer, who is clearly the runt of the litter. Placing the squad in the background and Elmer in the foreground, as well as the diagonal frame concocted by the fence, give a heightened sense of depth and dimension hat evokes a certain grandiosity and emotional gravity necessary to the scene. Bugs’ nonchalant carrot munching in lieu of all this makes for quite the effective contrast. Perhaps even inspiring to some—even in the face of danger, Bugs confronts it with his eyes blindfolded and a carrot in his grip. There’s something chilling with his cooperation.
Compare this to the end of Duck Soup to Nuts, which places Daffy in a synonymous situation. Daffy brings his own stolidity and pathos to the context, but it isn't as aggressively defiant in its leisure as Bugs is here. He plays up the drama. Bugs doesn’t even defy it, but outright ignores it completely.
All of the above observations of Bugs’ flappability apply when Elmer asks if Bugs is ready. Nobody would ever use such a colloquial term as "Yeah," when asking if they're ready to be executed… except for Bugs.
“Go ahead, doc. I’m ready". Carrot residue in his mouth render his lines chewy. Another reminder of his proud nonchalance.
“Befowe you die, you can make one east wish.”
The Mounties lowering their guns prompts them to ease into a more "cartoony" construction--their rigidity and stoicism is shed in favor of vacant observation as Bugs mulls this over. Using "wish" over the more Fudd-conscious phrase of "wequest" is an intriguing decision, given that Mike Maltese was especially sensitive to "opportunities" such as those.
There is a justification behind it. Bugs' parroting of "I wish... I wish..." soon gives way to one of the most lamentable moments in Bugs and Elmer's filmography, shared or otherwise...
A rollicking chorus of "I Wish I Was in Dixie" from Bugs prompts a cross dissolve into a minstrel show. The Mounties shed their stoicism so that they could more feasibly transform into their blackface minstrel garb. Elmer's strategic positioning up front is so that he could be second fiddle in Bugs' minstrel act. The repugnance of this scene speaks for itself; blackface is egregious no matter the context, but seems especially abhorrent in this instance when paired with two of the studio's most well-known and beloved mascots. Bugs especially--our analysis of Any Bonds Today? similarly touches upon the particular gravity that Bugs in blackface poses over other characters.
Bugs' interjection of "Fantastic, isn't it?, though used in the proper context of something being comparable to fantasy (rather than an exclamation of this being wonderful), and truthfully so, as it surely is bizarre and beyond reality that this would ever happen, does feel as though it rubs salt in the wound.
Racism aside--which is a rather impossible, if not exceedingly ignorant task--the ending just feels weak, flimsy. Bugs forking himself over, giving himself up this easily, all of these chases and recycled antics amounting in one big minstrel number feels aimless, hasty, like a quick idea thrown out right before a scheduled lunch. Perhaps that's just personal bias against the repugnancy of the entire scene. Regardless, there certainly seems to have been a better way to put a pin into the cartoon.
For this reason, Fresh Hare short is most remembered for its ending. It almost feels unfair, as the remainder of the cartoon has some great bits in it and doesn't deserve to be burdened by such an aimless and pointless punchline, emphasis on the "punch". While it isn't necessarily groundbreaking, it is a more experimental effort from Freleng. Bugs is established as the villain in this cartoon. Of course, the directing takes sympathy on him and twists the antagonizing onto Elmer, but to speak objectively, Bugs is a real, wanted villain with a bounty on his head. That sort of experimentation would quickly become a no-no in later years.
This short is not without its burdens. Beyond the obvious, there are some obstacles such as getting a bit of a slow start, potentially monotonous action with all the chasing and repetitious gag structure, some bits of animation are off-kilter and unappealing, and there are occasional idiosyncrasies--needless pauses, inconsistent camera cuts, ill-fitting sound effects--but those thankfully seem to be trumped by the positives. It's more standard Bugs and Elmer fare, but, as is the presiding mantra, it's a promising sign that we're at the stage where we can receive this sense of normalcy. It means a formula has been constructed, and that the cartoons are continuing to evolve.
Hopefully this short will live to see a high definition print that isn't behind a vault. This self contained but no less completely abhorrent wart of an ending dashes those chances significantly, but the remaining 7 minutes completely removed of a quick, slapdash punchline should not have to pay the price. Nevertheless, the compulsion is certainly understandable.
In any case, the good parts are good. Elmer and Bugs are beginning to look more like Elmer and Bugs. There's certainly great improvement in the designs of both parties compared to The Wabbit Who Came to Supper. The animation is learning how to caricature itself and convey feeling, sensations, rather than thriving on the mere feat of existing. Certain bits of directing show inspiration, such as Elmer's reflection in the ice as he makes his imprint, the blink-and-you'll-miss-it voluptuous woman in the snow, and so forth.
It's unfortunate that this short has become as sensationalized as it is through its shock value, with most discussions undercut by the abhorrence of the blackface, with said blackface waved around and broadcasted for clickbait rather than inspiring meaningful discussions on harmful stereotypes, their origins, historical context, and so forth. The fate of this short is a sad one, both through its ending and the way it has been transparently sensationalized like most cartoons of its vein.
Thankfully, better Bugs and Elmer cartoons (and directed by Friz Freleng, yet!) are out there and unburdened with such blatant displays of racism. There is a lot about this short that can render it obsolete, but the benefits are still worth admiring.
