167. Sweet Si*ux (1937)

Disclaimer: The review you’re about to read entails racist content and imagery. I, in no way, shape, or form, condone or endorse any of the ideals depicted below—I find the content gross and wrong. However, it needs to be talked about. To gloss over it like nothing happened would be just as insensitive. PLEASE let me know if I say anything wrong, it’s absolutely not my intent to say anything hurtful or offensive, and I want to take accountability for my actions if I do. Thank you for understanding and cooperating.

Release date: June 26th, 1937

Series: Merrie Melodies

Director: Friz Freleng

Starring: Mel Blanc (Freddy the Freshman, Coach, Yiddish Voice, Hiccups, Mohican), Shirley Reed (Martha Raye), Ted Pierce (Rosentwist, Coach's Yiddish Voice)

Another typical festival of dehumanizing caricatures and stereotypes, there IS one aspect of this cartoon that is rather atypical–this is the first cartoon to debut a little known song by the name of “The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down”. The song is the second anthem for the Looney Tunes shorts, officially debuting as the theme song with Rover’s Rival, just a mere 4 months after this cartoon. 

With “Merrily We Roll Along” already instated as the Merrie Melodies theme, implemented with Boulevardier of the Bronx in 1936, “The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down” will preface cartoons in the Looney Tunes series, later prefacing every cartoon after 1964 with the Bill Lava version instead. It would also be the song number for Daffy Duck & Egghead (sung by Daffy), as well as being sung by Daffy AGAIN with substitute lyrics in Boobs in the Woods. Needless to say, this song has its fair share of history, and has made quite a name for itself.

The cartoon itself is another parade of demeaning gags, caricatures, and stereotypes, as well as remaining relatively plotless: we get a glimpse of Native American life, complete with celebrity caricatures, song, and dance performances.

I will give credit where credit is due–the opening sequence of the cartoon is executed very nicely, with some beautifully painted backgrounds, accompanied by a tranquil underscore of “Indian Dawn”. We open to the silhouette of a Native American perched on top of a mountain. As the sun continues to rise, marked by changing backgrounds, it’s revealed that the silhouette is merely a statue. 

Wipe away to a pan of the village, lulling us into a false sense of security as things are uncharacteristically quiet. One of the “teepees” (looking more like a circus tent) reads CHIEF “RAIN IN THE FACE”, a take on warchief Rain-in-the-Face, noted for his crucial contributions in defeating General Custer during The Battle of a Little Big Horn in 1876. 

Sure enough, a jerk of a pan reveals a stereotypical stoic Native American sitting in front of the tent with a small stream of rain designated just for his face. The build up and reveal of the gag is clever, but the gag itself is tired and difficult to laugh at. 

More teepee gags after–one Native pushes his teepee up like an umbrella, sitting contentedly beneath it in a lawn chair. The most elaborate gag, however, serves as a callback to a Merrie Melodies cartoon dating all the way back to 1932. From the top of the teepee pops out a bespectacled, cap wearing college student toting a ukulele. He bursts into a rousing rendition of “Freddy the Freshman”, a callback to the cartoon of the same name 5 years prior, directed by Rudy Ising. Seeing as Friz himself received an animation credit on the short, the gag isn’t totally out of the blue. The song itself would become a favorite of Stalling’s, used in many a cartoon. 

Once more, stereotypes prevail as the song is broken to allow a war-chant interlude before resuming. Overall, the timing is well executed, but, along with everything else in this cartoon, is diminished in appreciation on account of being so tasteless. Two more brief gags follow–a hen giving a war-cry after laying an egg, and a hitchhiker hopping into a woman’s papoose as she strolls by. Nothing remarkable, more uncomfortable than anything. The gags feel a tad bit forced and directionless in my opinion.

Next, a fade out and in signifies some momentum in the story as we spot a Native on the lookout, his entire upper-body rotating 360 degrees as he keeps a sharp eye out. Suddenly, he spots something–a wagon crawls into view. A closeup shows two cows lugging along a covered wagon, emblazoned with TRADER DRUM on the side in big, red letters, serving as one of the more amusing gags as we see it towing a modern camper from behind. 

Particularly Tashlin-esque camera angles pop up in this cartoon, especially during this sequence as the Native dashes over hill and dale, zigzagging in and out of the foreground. A good sense of audience immersion as we merely see his legs and the side of the cliff when he dashes alongside the foreground–Frank Tashlin would also utilize this camera/layout technique later on, this scene here particularly reminiscent of an angle used in now that summer is gone just a year later.

The Native starts to write a telegraph–in the background, there’s an EASTERN ONION sign decorated on top of a counter advertising “90 words for 90 wampum”, the Eastern Onion sign a pun on the telegraph service Western Union. I’m more sympathetic to corny puns such as these, but the gag has definitely become rather obsolete and lost to the sands of time (since when was the last time anybody sent a telegraph?) 

The Native hands it to a man behind the counter, who shoves the note outside of a hole in the tent and shows it to another native on the lookout. After reading the letter, he grabs a pipe and delivers the telegraph via morse code through the pipe. The sound of the pipe DOES align rather nicely with the underscore of “The Sun Dance”. And, of course, to top it all off, just as we’ve figured the telegram has ended, we get a topper of “Shave and a Haircut”, a hiccup sound effect by Mel Blanc capping it.

Many a Warner Bros. cartoon dons the catchphrase “Calling all cars, calling all cars” from the 1933-1939 police radio drama of the same name, and this one is no exception. Instead, however, the Native American on the lookout drones in the same monotone voice “Calling all braves, calling all braves, pick up a covered wagon at Cactus Canyon and Red Gulch. Go get ‘em, boys.” 

Thus sparks some much needed energy–Natives run out and (shocker) perform some war cries, the sequence cut short in favor of one (of a few) dance sequences. I do believe Bob McKimson gets an animation credit for this cartoon, and while I’m not certain, his hand would certainly explain the solidity and fluidity of this next sequence as a Native dances in time to a drum beat, getting progressively faster and faster as the tempo picks up, eventually transforming into a mere whirlwind. Again, credit where credit is due–the animation and the technique behind it is very well crafted. It’s a shame such talent had to be used on such caricatures and stereotypes. 

More high energy and more intriguing foreground camera angles as the natives dance around a fire. One woman beats both her stomach and her butt (makes me wonder about the Hays Code), another carrying her son in a papoose doing a war cry. Eventually, the son carries the mother on HIS back, also doing a war cry. I wonder, did audiences then find the war cry gags as taxing as I do now? Racism aside, it definitely serves as a crutch gag. 

And, of course, time for a celebrity performance: a busty caricature of Martha Raye, living up to her nickname of “The Big Mouth” as indicated by her giant caricatured lips, singing “Goombay Drum”. The song number is catchy and fun, but her caricature is certainly… questionable at best. Cultural appropriation much? Sexualized much? She would have only been 20 here. Nevertheless, animation is fun and the song is very lively, but, as always, difficult to appreciate to its fullest potential. 

After her song number, animation of the natives dancing around the fire is reused as a segue between scenes. This time, two Natives dance the hopak (because why not?). Carl Stalling’s score is certainly a highlight–his transition between music styling is wonderful as always. More fire dancing animation as another segue, this time used to fade out and back in. 

The next scene of the Natives charging on horseback would be reused a year later in Cal Dalton’s and Cal Howard’s breakout cartoon Porky’s Phoney Express. The Natives cross the creek to get to the trader’s wagon (once more some nice foreground overlapping and animation, all things considered), where the trader begins to shoot at them while they circle the wagon. The scene (as well as underscore) is very much reminiscent of the equally (if not more so) deplorable 1936 Jack King cartoon, Westward Whoa. 

An all out shootout occurs, the trader perching on a stool and shooting rapid fire as he spins 360 degrees, whereas a Native fires back, spinning around his horse from the impact. There IS some rather unique and fun animation as a native fires his rifle, stars and sparks trailing behind. The novelty of the entire battle is lost rather quickly, however–it’s stretched too thin, too repetitive, too tired to be continually encapsulating. I will award points for creativity as the trader shoots at a line of canoes in the style of a carnival duck shooting game, but again the content of the gag is cringeworthy and uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, this is where history is made, following in the carnival theme. The Natives circling the wagon suddenly lift up and ride their horses like a merry go round, underscored of COURSE by “The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down”, marking this the first cartoon to debut the future theme song. Funnily enough, Tex Avery would reuse this exact gag in his 1953 cartoon Homesteader Droopy. Friz Freleng’s gag has the advantage of using “ The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down” to further the gag, whereas Tex at MGM had to use “Man on the Flying Trapeze”. This isn’t the first (nor last) time Tex would take inspiration from Friz. Coincidentally, the cartoon reviewed before this, Freleng’s Streamlined Greta Green, served as the basis for Tex’s One Cab’s Family. His 1950 The Peachy Cobbler is also spoofed from Friz’s 1946 Holiday for Shoestrings. 

After the merry go round gag, the shootout resumes. We spot sidelined natives, “Freddy the Freshman” popping up as an underscore once more, observing the “game” as the coach paces back and forth, complete with a cheering section and everything. One Native is shot right in the butt, prompting the referee to blow the whistle. The chaos screeches to a halt as two Natives toting a stretcher, taking the injured “player” off the field. The minor key rendition of “Freddy the Freshman” does accentuate the gag rather nicely. Stalling’s scores are probably the best thing about the cartoon, aside from the notoriety spurred on by the merry go round sequence. 

The coach enlists in the help of one of the sidelined players, switching from broken English (sigh) to Yiddish? Another gag that, at least for me, has been lost to the sands of time. The Native American he’s enlisting in gives a drawling catchphrase of “Woooooohhhh yeaaaaah,” coined from Tony Labriola’s character Oswald on The Ken Murray Show, used in quite a few '30s Warner Bros. cartoons. Maybe a riot back in 1937, but the entire gag sequence is too dated (and again, the stereotypes of it all) to get a rise today.

Another Tashlin-esque technique is employed as various footage is overlaid and reused to further the drama of the entire sequence. For me, however, this comes off as more of a tactic to fill up the time slot then to convey urgency and theatrics. This WAS the Depression, so if you can reuse animation to save a buck or two, then by all means go for it, but this cartoon in general feels rather directionless and hollow, as if there was too much time left to fill and they had to think of a way to fill it up. And, of course, the overarching unpleasantness of the racism contributes to my unfavorable review. We get almost 20 seconds exactly of overlaid footage before things finally settle down.

At last, the shoot out has subsided. The animation is commendable for how fluid it is as two Native Americans pop up amidst the rubble, both crossing their arms. The first Native is obviously surprised to see he has company, exclaiming in broken English (sigh) “Who you?” The entire sequence is bogged down by cringeworthy, stereotyped dialogue. “Me Mohican. Who you?” “Me Mohican.” The second Mohican, obviously unpleased, grabs his tomahawk and socks his companion right over the head. I could be wrong, but the first Mohican sounds like the vocal work of Tedd Pierce, the second one obviously Mel Blanc. The timing of the punchline is rather nice, I will concede, as the final line of the cartoon is “Me last Mohican.” an unarguably clever gag, soured by racism and stereotypes.

So, as you can obviously (or hopefully) tell, this cartoon is far from a favorite. It’s bogged down by dehumanizing and insulting stereotypes and caricatures, stereotypes and caricatures that have been done before and are awfully tired (as are all.) Friz has worse entries under his belt, but he certainly has much better entries as well. This cartoon felt a bit loose and cobbled together for my liking, lots of extended scenes, reused animation, and directionless gags. It’s not quite a spot-gag cartoon, but I wouldn’t say it exactly has a concrete storyline either. It just seems to exist. 

There are, of course, some good qualities: Carl Stalling’s musical technique is creative as ever, and brightens up the monotony of many of the scenes. The animation was rather fluid in some parts, but the content being animated sours the appreciation for the full technique. Not enough to save the cartoon, it at least does tote some notoriety and history with it being the debut of the Looney Tunes theme song (being instated as such only a few months later.) however, I can’t in good heart recommend this cartoon. Too cringeworthy, too racist, too monotonous, too routine.

But, as always, I’ll provide a link. Obviously view at your own discretion.