Release date: June 19th, 1937
Series: Merrie Melodies
Director: Friz Freleng
Starring: Berneice Hansell (Junior), Mel Blanc (Bartender), The Basin Street Rhythm Boys, The Plantation Choir (Chorus)
Streamlined Greta Green chronicles the adventures of a little car who wishes to grow up into a taxi cab, much to the chagrin of his mother, who wishes he’d follow the footsteps of his father and become a touring car. Tex Avery would expand upon this premise 14 years later with his own short, One Cab’s Family, where the little child wants to be a sleek hot-rod instead of a taxi like his father. Interesting to see how times change!
“Lullaby of Broadway” underscores a busy street scene as we open. Trolleys, cars, you name it, all narrowly avoid crashing as they bottleneck through a busy (and poorly regulated) intersection. Two cars inevitably crash together, spurring an altercation. Reducing the anthropomorphic cars’ dialogue to nothing but furious honking through means of a muffled trumpet is a wonderful touch, furthering the whimsicality of the short as a whole.
Angry exchanges morph into a heated wrestling match–suspension of disbelief works well as a nearby stoplight turns red and signals the cars to stop. They take a breather at opposite ends of the “ring”, and once the stop sign turns green again, they go back at it. The scene itself is reminiscent of the epic sequence in Porky the Wrestler where the entire wrestling ring is transformed into a train. Perhaps not as exaggerated, but still enough to warrant praise.
Fret not–the majority of cars seem to uphold a camaraderie as we hone in on a taxi dance hall. Jaunty animation of anthropomorphic cars dancing together fill the scene inside (as does some sign gags, one sign reading “five can dance as cheap as one”), accompanied by a chorus of the title song. By this point, the Merrie Melodies songs were on their way out the door. The songs were a detriment to the cartoons rather than a bonus, and as a result, the songs themselves became much more halfhearted in the cartoons they were featured in. Here is no exception.
All of the taxi cabs are happily dancing together. All except one, a lady taxi sitting politely aside with nary a dance partner. She turns bashful as a taxi approaches her for a dance, and in a clever twist, the lady taxi plops a coin inside her meter, switching the label from vacant to occupied. Anthropomorphic cars aren’t as mind-bogglingly inventive as they used to be, but for 1937, this entire cartoon is extremely creative. The animation here is wonderfully jaunty and fluid, and to boot we’re met with an innuendo as the lady taxi’s meter continues to rise.
Following in the steps of Tex Avery and his love of jackpot gags since day 1, the meter turns into a slot machine, winning the jackpot, and a plethora of gold coins shower out as the male taxi happily collects the coins into his hat, much to the bashfulness of his partner.
Away from the busy city is a quaint little backyard, where we stumble upon the star of the picture–a tiny little car reading a book on how to be a taxi cab. The underscore here is “My Little Buckaroo”, which would find a home time and time again in many a Warner Bros. cartoon.
The little car sighs longingly as he reads. The backgrounds are beautifully painted, conveying the homely nature of the scene rather nicely. Very atmospheric, very nostalgic. The car’s mother emerges from the garage, honking and searching for her son Junior. 
Mama car finds Junior engrossed in his book, to which Junior panics and hides the book behind his back. The power of domineering motherhood prevails as Junior reluctantly forks the book over. “I wanna be a taxi,” he protests indignantly after seeing his mother’s shocked expression at the brazen literature her son was reading.
“A taxi? Of all things! I want you to grow up and be a nice touring car like your father.” Berneice Hansell’s squeaky vocals are endearing as always as Junior refuses. “I don’t wanna be a touring car. I wanna be a taxi!”
Not having any more of it, mama car drags Junior by the “ear” (one of the metal covers of his tires) and takes him inside their humble garage abode. As mama car prepares Junior‘s lunch for school (gasoline, of course), you’ll notice a wonderfully clever visual gag–a framed portrait of an old car from the early 1900s hangs on the garage wall, affectionately labeled “grandpa”. My initial thought was that this was a dig on the 1933 Disney hit The Three Little Pigs, which couldn’t be too far off.
With lunch prepared, mama places the lunchbox in Junior‘s seat, much to his displeasure. Junior takes off, with mama cooing at him to run along to school, stay away from traffic, “and keep clear of those railroad crossings…” 
Junior reaches the intersection between auto school and the city. His plight of decision is accented by a visual dotted line as he reads both signs, turning his head, trying to make a final decision. The school bell tolls like a funeral bell–with that, Junior plays it brave and heads for the city instead.
City life already asserts itself as intimidating as junior attempts to cross the bustling city streets. As the stoplight turns red, he readies himself at the line, preparing to take off, but once the light turns green, he’s repeatedly run over (or run above?) a number of cars as the cars zoom forward beneath him, rendering the little car paralyzed. Very fun, smooth, hurried animation. Once traffic clears, the light red again, Junior is now in the company of an older, slower car, who patiently waits for the signal to go. Once the light is green, the sound of the bell throws the old car into a boxing frency, shadow-boxing with an invisible enemy. This gag was referenced all too many times in the disastrous Porky’s Moving Day by Jack King just a year before.
Junior gets jostled around by traffic as he wanders aimlessly into another intersection, eventually throwing himself into a safety zone (one thinks of Picador Porky), a fitting underscore of “Little Man, You’ve Had a Busy Day” accompanying Junior as he frantically pants, trying to catch his breath, his heart (where the engine is) beating furiously. More jaunty animation as Junior, ever the genius, breaks the physical restraints of the cartoon world as he lifts up the painted lines and carries the safety zone with him. Caught up in complacency, he tumbles straight into an open storm drain, weaseling his way out on the other side of the street.
Suddenly, relief–a gas station catches his eye. He approaches, the gas station serving as a soda fountain of sorts, manned by a bartender voiced by (who else?) Mel Blanc, asking “What’ll ya have, son?” The gas comes in a variety of flavors–strawberry, grape, orange, etc. Junior signals the orange, which is “powerful stuff, son!”
Junior has his fill, and instantly the gas takes effect, sending jolts through out his body as the engine explodes in a rhythmic cadence (a classic WB gag). After the initial shock, Junior is revitalized and ready to go–”Gee, I can go fast now! Watch!” Predictable yet endearing, Junior takes off in a flash, much to the bewilderment of the bartender. A camera pan reveals Junior standing at the bartender’s side, clearly pleased with his work, much to the awe of the bartender.
Junior’s attempts to show off are endearing and serve as suitable momentum to the inevitable climax as he zooms over to the railroad tracks, “Yoo-hoo!”ing the bartender. “Shuffle Off to Buffalo” underscores the sound of an approaching train, hurtling across the railroad tracks as junior observes in awe. If my memory serves me correctly, the particular footage of the train used here is the first of many reuses–this train pops up in a number of cartoons, the one coming to my mind right now being Porky‘s Picnic in 1939. Perhaps it was used before this and my memory is just poor, but, at the very least, I can say that it’s the same train. (An update—the footage was originally from Ben Hardaway’s Rhythm in the Bow in 1934.)
Junior, now cocky, decides to race the train to show off, speeding alongside the tracks on a rural stretch of road. His excitement is cut short by a road hog–literally. A giant pig shaped car, labeled ROAD HOG in threatening bold letters slows Junior‘s momentum, Junior honking angry “barks” at the offending car. Junior attempts to pass, but to no avail.
Instead, the road hog grows even more obnoxious by stretching its tires out to hog the entire stretch of road. Thankfully, a bridge comes to Junior‘s aid as the road hog is sent riding above the support beams, with Junior passing below and now in front of the road hog.
Road hog taken care of, Junior gets gutsy again as his attention focuses once more on the rival train. Determined to out-perform, Junior attempts to race alongside the train, casting looks of validation occasionally to see just how well he’s holding the lead. The energy of the next handful of scenes is just swell–Friz’s knack for musical timing comes in clutch as the railroad crossing bell dings in hurried succession with the beat of the jaunty music.
Some Tashlin-esque camera angles as the train heads straight for the audience, with Junior crossing over the tracks just before it, narrowly avoiding an inevitable collision. The charade is repeated again (with the footage flipped), but the energy is just as strong the first time around, especially with the key of the music elevating up a notch to D instead of C, heightening the anticipation and adrenaline.
Even if the energy is rampant, it can’t be maintained for the remainder of the cartoon, just watching Junior do his gymnastics. Friz knows this, too, which is why we get a view of Junior’s gas gauge dropping to empty. Predictably, Junior stalls out on the train tracks as the train approaches. The train hurtles towards the audience, Junior cowers in fear… and fade out to black.
I give Friz credit, as I didn’t expect this to happen at ALL. I assumed his mother would swoop in out of the shadows to save the day and give him a stern talking to afterwards, but instead we’re met with a rather bizarre and somber scene. An ambulance tow truck hauls an off-screen Junior to the auto garage hospital, and we’re met with a rather moody surgery montage.
The suspense is extremely thick–the directing here is very cinematographic, very Tashlin-esque, and VERY well executed. We never once see the injured Junior. We have a split-screen montage of the surgery, showing oxygen being pumped, utensils passed around… the directing is top notch. Very brooding, very smart to withhold Junior from the audience, as well as concealing most of the faces of the operators. The minor key rendition of “My Little Buckaroo” does wonders to maintain the somber mood.
Outside, we see mama car pacing aimlessly around, tearfully “oh dear”ing all the way through. The suspense doesn’t stop–the back door creaks open. After a beat, we see little Junior, alive and mostly well, covered in bandages, running to his mother. They embrace lovingly, but that doesn’t exclude Junior from a good lecture.
Another wonderful turn of events as we hear the all too familiar bellow of a train whistle during mama’s lecture. Junior displays how much he’s learned his lesson by darting straight towards the tracks once more, hungry for a race. All the broodiness, all the moodiness, all the tears and heartfelt sorrow are thrown out the window as Junior‘s need for speed prevails once more.
What also prevails once more is the train. Junior manages to dodge the train at first, mocking the train in the process, but in the midst of his gloating, he’s oblivious to the other train hurtling straight behind him.
Again, Junior gets hit. Junior is relatively unscathed, albeit dazed as we fade back in from black. Iris out as we see that the train is now in shambles, taking a much more severe beating than Junior did.
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| Production drawing. |
The music score was lovely all the way through, as was the animation and the creativity. As I said, talking cars aren’t as surprising now, but this was pretty damn innovative for its time, and they certainly made the best of their surroundings and setting. The dark turn the short took was wonderful. Energy was high all through the cartoon, but especially during the climax, and the broodiness of the surgery scenes serve as a strong juxtaposition to the previous scenes.
It’s certainly evident both Tex Avery and Frank Tashlin have rubbed off on Friz–as they should. Friz is a solid director who is WAY too underrated for my tastes. His timing, both musical and comedic, is impeccable, and his cartoons are wonderful to watch. He doesn’t get as much praise because he’s not as “wacky”, but subtleties are just as, if not more so, important than wild animation, and I’d argue that especially for its time, this is pretty wild! Tashlin’s camera angles and filmmaking techniques and Tex’s need for speed and absurd humor both rub off on Friz as we see here, and it pays off extremely nicely.
At first I wasn’t too enthused to watch this cartoon, as I figured it’d be your “standard” Merrie Melody, but after seeing the end I would definitely recommend you to watch it. It’s fun, light-hearted, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch just once. Go check it out!
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