179. Rover’s Rival (1937)

Release date: October 9th, 1937

Series: Looney Tunes

Director: Bob Clampett

Starring: Mel Blanc (Porky, Puppy), Oscar O'Shea (Rover)

At long last, Rover’s Rival makes history before the short even begins: this is the first cartoon to debut the opening using “The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down”, as well as the first cartoon to have Porky bursting out of the drum at the end (which I believe is animated by Sid Sutherland? For the 1937-1938 season anyway, definitely don’t quote me on that). The Merry-Go-Round Broke Down would be the longest running theme song—even the Merrie Melodies would drop “Merrily We Roll Along” in favor of the former in 1964. Quite a feat indeed!

The cartoon itself is a fun one (as are the Clampett Porkys of the 1937-1938 season, a particularly strong one): Porky is eager to teach his old dog Rover new tricks, despite the old saying. A plucky little pup is just as eager to out-perform the old pooch, much to the displeasure of Porky and Rover.

The structured, spherical, well-constructed close-up of Porky as he peruses a book on how to teach your dog new tricks (by author Clawed Meatly, no less!) can only be attributed to John Carey’s hand at the cartoon’s open. Porky babbles on in excitement (”Oh be-boy, here’s a honey of a-a trick to teach my deh-dee-deh-do-de-dee—eh-pooch!”), wasting no time to jump out of his chair and grab the necessary toys to entertain his pup.

For an expository sequence, the scene flows quickly but smoothly, especially the scene where Porky grabs the hoop and the ball to play with Rover. There are no cuts, and he doesn’t stop to grab either—he just glides along, propelled by his giddiness.

Juxtaposition is key to comedy, and here is no exception: Clampett does a great job of building up to Rover’s reveal. Porky dashes to Rover’s doghouse, calling fragmented commands to whatever lies within the kennel. 

“Ol Strongheart”, as Porky calls him, is finally introduced with a triumphant fanfare. Hold on the still of the doghouse, and our hero enters: 

Note how the book Porky was reading wasn’t titled “New Tricks to Teach Your Old Dog”. There are no clues that Porky‘s faithful companion is a withered, tired, geriatric old dog (except for maybe all of the positive reinforcement—that is, “Ol’ Strongheart”, the fanfare, Porky’s excitement—which makes itself too good to be true). 

Chuck Jones is, of course, behind the animation of rover’s entrance. Once again, part of the three key identifiers to Chuck Jones animation: dogs, drunks, and close-ups. Sometimes all three! 

Animation drawing.

Porky tells Rover that they’ll try a couple of easy tricks “to weh-warm up”. As Rover follows his owner’s order to sit up, remnants of the more comically minded Iwerks short sprinkle in to the animation of Rover’s vertebrae cracking as he slowly sits up–little stars and lines (accompanied by Treg Brown’s excellent creaking sound effects) further just how weak and old Porky’s faithful companion is. 

If we still had any doubt, our suspicions are confirmed as Rover answers Porky‘s command to roll over in the voice of an old man’s (provided by Robert C. Bruce, who would narrate a good number of upcoming cartoons): “Eeeeeh?” [EDIT: Keith Scott claims Rover is voiced by the same person who voiced the old man in Ain't We Got Fun. He speculates that may possibly be Oscar O'Shea, but is not certain.]

There's an awkward cut right after--Rover goes to turn around, and for some reason we find Porky sweating rather profusely for all of 2 seconds before it cuts to the next scene below, where Rover is on the ground. 

Enter the antagonist, a perfect, pint-sized foil: Rover’s rival, a tiny little pest of a pup who tinkers into the scene. He spots Rover struggling to roll over and winks knowingly at the audience, jabbing a thumb in a gesture that reads “get a load of this guy!” 

Interesting to note, they don’t cut away to the pup’s introduction–rather, the camera zooms in as the pooch gets closer to the action, a fade leading to the next shot. A subtle but nice move that brings the audience along with the pesky little rival and evokes a sense of involvement, menial as it may seem.

Bobe Cannon animates the close-up of Rover struggling to roll over, repeatedly flopping to one side. The stray pup offers to display a shred of neighborliness by blowing on Rover as he gets close to actually rolling over, once more tipping him back where he started.

Porky, undeterred, moves to a new tactic: the ol’ jump through the hoop trick. He signals for his faithful companion to do so, and is taken aback as the little pup jumps through instead. Great joke after: 

Porky eyes the now broken hoop, turning around as he curses “Awq, neh-ne-nu-ne–shucks!” As he does so, the absence of the hoop reveals a metallic pan hanging on the side of the house, which Rover (still following Porky’s orders) crashes right into. Wonderful timing and wonderful sound effects.

The rival pooch approaches a dazed and confused rover (with a double exposure cuckoo clock springing out of Rover’s head and cooing wildly to suggest as such), barking up a storm before snarling in a high pitched, nasally voice “Ya old antique! Why, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks! Why don’tcha give yourself up?” 

Despite the pup’s incessant bullying, Porky is still determined to go against the age old saying. As he offers Rover to catch a rubber ball, Rover chews out the smug pup, raving about young whippersnappers. “Watch THIS!” The music score of “My Baby Says It’s So” is very, very catchy and constitutes acknowledgement.

Rover awaits the ball thrown into the air with an open mouth, leading to some prime scheme hatching opportunities for the pup. 

There’s some nice dry brush action to convey the movement as the puppy lugs a conveniently placed pumpkin and throws it into the air with a some effort, which lands squarely in Rover’s maw (much to the bewilderment of Porky.) Dry  brushing would be everywhere in the 40′s cartoons–and I say that lovingly, it’s an art!–but it’s awfully interesting to find it in a 30′s cartoon. You’d be amazed at the variety of ways it can convey speed or motion!

John Carey does some wonderful animation of the pup’s comeuppance, now touting the ball in its mouth and giving a self-satisfied, quiet “Yea, man!” (a reoccurring catchphrase in the cartoons of the late ‘30′s) before launching into a showboating routine. He bounces the ball onto his back legs, juggling it and even turning into a seal–barks and all–as he balances the ball on his nose, putting poor old Rover to shame. Instead of having the pup act like a seal, his hind legs melt together to form an actual fin, pushing the gag further. It’s a great little detail.

Ending the routine, the pup opts to berate rover more, who grows tearful from the barrage of insults. “You mean t’ say… I’m one of them thar… used-to-was-es?”

The prick pooch imitates Rover’s speech (and appearance, his face saggy and wrinkly–to quote the cartoons, “a reasonable facsimile”): “Yes, I mean to say, you’re one of them there used-to-was-es!” 

Finally, Porky intervenes: “Hey, don’t eh-imic-eh-ick-eh… don’t imic-eh-eh… don’t mimic Rover, he’s eh-see-eh-ss-ehh-sensitive!” 

So, of course, the pup magically gains a few pounds in the face to mirror Porky  stuttering back in a nasally voice (more than normal) “Eh-geh-geh-geh-gee, I’m sorry to hear eh-theh-theh-eh-theh-that!” He snarls at Porky in comically ear-splitting volume, rendering Porky hurt for a despair-filled two seconds. But, of course, he’s back to his excitable old self after he finds another trick for Rover to do.

Clever decision to make the trick a “surprise”: we don’t find out what it is until after Rover excitedly dashes over to Porky (doing a running take in mid-air as he struggles to gain traction). The trick is simple: fetch the stick. 

Porky tosses the stick, prompting the pup to lean up against Porky’s belly nonchalantly and give a monotone, condescending countdown: “One… two… three… seven… eight… two… nine… ten…” 

Predictably, the puppy grows impatient, and darts off screen to outperform rover once more. Rover, on the other hand, takes his sweet time picking up the stick, which proves to be to his detriment as the pup swoops in last second to grab it. I love the “shiver take” on the lower body of the pup as he slides away with the stick (another “Yea, man!”, no less)–little touches like that to remind us that this is a ‘30′s cartoon are much appreciated, on my end at least. Nevertheless, Rover still goes in for the bite, spitting out a mouthful of dirt.

Porky and the pup play a quick round of spiteful tug of war with the stick. Porky manages to free the stick from the ever menacing jaws of the beast, insisting that it’s Rover’s turn to get it. He throws it again, and this time Rover does manage to grab it: but his dentures free from his mouth, clamping down on the immobilized stick on the ground, returning with a mouthful of nothing but saliva. 

Pooch, on the other hand, returns the stick–dentures and all. This drawing speaks for itself in how funny it is, Porky’s befuddlement always a plus.

Rover inserts his dentures before getting the stick a third time, whereas Porky pins down the pup (who’s winding up to retrieve it once more.) 

The timing of Porky pinning the pup is excellent: the jump itself is only six frames, and all on ones, making it go by in an instant. Treg Brown’s thumping sound effect of Porky pinning his entire weight down on such a small creature is the icing on the cake.

Seeing as this is a cartoon, and a Warner Bros. one at that, the stick lands in a site filled with dynamite. So, of course, it’s only logical for a senile old dog to confuse his stick with a stick of dynamite explicitly labeled as such. 

Rover retrives the dynamite and brings it back to an overjoyed Porky (holding the pup by the turtleneck). Bobe Cannon animates Porky gloating to the pup: “See? Rover got the s-eh-ss-ehh… he got the suh-eh-seh…” 

Polite head pats from Porky turn into Porky thrusting Rover’s face into the ground as he does a take, finally realizing that he’s holding ”DYNAMITE!!!” 

The dynamite physically clings to Porky’s hand as he aimlessly thrashes around in attempt to throw it, finally managing to do so. The pooch runs off to catch it, whereas Rover inquires “Dynamite!?” and does some running of his own.

Dashing inside the house, Rover plops himself into Porky‘s armchair with urgency as Chuck Jones animates the hilarious close-up of rover frantically thumbing through a dictionary, mumbling and sweating all the way. The dead-eye and reading glasses are the perfect touch to top off the gag. 

Elsewhere, the pooch returns to Porky with the dynamite, whispering another satisfied “Yea, man!” as a job well done. Porky is quick to throw the dynamite off into the distance, ordering “Ee-eh-GO HOME, WILL YA!?” 

After the pup retrieves the dynamite once more, we’re treated with a GREAT scene by Chuck Jones as Bob Clampett’s love of magic tricks give us rapidly appearing dynamite sticks, pulled out of the infinite pockets of the pooch. Chuck’s animation of Porky frantically pulling on an interminable string of dynamite sticks (in the same manner of the old never-ending handkerchief trick) is especially smooth and a delight to see (animated on ones.) The upbeat score of “Nagasaki” also compliments the scene nicely, reflecting the frenzied action.

Some things never change.

Eventually, the altercation turns into a rapid fire throwing match between pig and pup, dynamite sticks flying. Porky struggles to catch all of the sticks, but does so anyway. The nuisance of a pup adds insult to injury by sticking dynamite sticks in Porky‘s mouth and ears (which would be revisited 13 years later in Chuck Jones’ classic The Ducksters), segueing into a standard but great gag.

The pooch asks if Porky has a match on him. Porky thinks for a split second, and, out of the goodness (or, gullibility rather) of his heart, reaches into his pile of explosives and pulls out a match.

The pooch lights all of the dynamite in Porky’s possession as we cut to Rover, still frantically thumbing through the D section in the dictionary. 

Back to Porky  who frantically scales a tree after recognizing his peril. The persistent puppy pops out from a bird’s nest full of baby birds, offering a terrified Porky a plethora of dynamite sticks. With the same speed as he went up the tree, Porky flies back down to the ground, where he STILL can’t catch a break. 

Cue one of my favorite Mel Blanc deliveries as the pooch appears from the bottom of the tree, forking over a dynamite-lit birthday cake. Porky rejects the pup’s birthday wishes with an ear-splitting “Uh-teh-ee-eh-tee-eh-tee-ehTAKE IT AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!” 

Once more to Rover, who finally uncovers the definition of the elusive dynamite: “Noun. ‘A high explosive.’ EXPLOSIVE!?” 

He runs like he’s never ran before as he darts out of the house. Back to Porky in a hilariously staged shot, praying incomprehensibly to himself as he’s surrounded in a barricade of dynamite, the sadistic puppy laughing and pointing at him in the process.

Thankfully, Rover comes to the rescue: he scoops up the barricade of explosives, carrying the bundle in his mouth as he runs away to expose of the danger. Of course, that doesn’t stop the puppy, who manages to lift Rover up (with a gleeful grin towards the audience as he does so), turning him around and bringing him back to Porky. 

Porky tosses the dynamite away, inadvertently disposing of Rover’s dentures along with the bundle. Yet, like before, the pesky pooch returns with the dentures in his mouth, dynamite sizzling away in between the false teeth.

Some lovely, dimensional angles of the pup sweeping across the screen and into the foreground as he and Rover engage in a high stakes game of tug of war. In ‘30′s cartoons, animation is bound to be rubbery, especially in a Clampett cartoon, but the decision to turn the dynamite into the consistency of rubber to demonstrate the push and pull of the two forces is a nice touch. Rover manages to grab a hold of the bundle of dynamite, his own dentures snapping him right in the nose.

The gag isn’t staged very well and gets lost in the action, but Rover’s dentures fly into the air as he dashes away once more to dispose of the dynamite. The dentures land back on a nearby tree branch, snagging onto the pup’s tail and causing him to dangle aimlessly from the branch. The same type of gag would be used just a few months prior on Ub Iwerks’ Porky and Gabby, which Clampett also had involvement in. 

As the cherry on top, Rover returns briefly to shake Porky’s hand in a sorrowful but respectful goodbye. Porky covers himself just in time for the explosion offscreen, marked by an orchestral resolution chord and a sign from the dynamite site that lands conveniently in the scene: “WE’VE BLASTED!” 

Both Porky and his sadistic little puppy friend are quick to rush to the scene of the crime. The drawing of Rover lying flat on the ground is confusing at first glance: he’s supposed to be covered in dirt, but the transparency of the cel and two dimensional line work of the dirt covering him make it appear as though Rover had been dismembered in the process–gruesome, isn’t it? 

Nevertheless, the pup proves to be much more mournful than Porky, actually displaying a shred of empathy as he tearfully chats up Rover, blabbering on about how he didn’t mean any of it, Rover is capable of learning new tricks, and that he’s “the best little stick-bringer-backer that ever was.” 

As to be expected, Rover pops up, perfectly fine, just in time for the iris out: “Do ya mean it?” 

Bob Clampett has the most Porky entries out of any director, and while I frequent his the most, this is one I continue to forget about. Which is a shame on my part, because it’s so much fun! 

Right off the bat I say you should go watch this one, it’s a lot of fun. While it’s nowhere near as boundary breaking as Clampett’s later films, it’s still rife with energy and life. I’ve quickly come to love this cartoon—I’d say it’s one of my favorites from this era. The mischief is infectious and it’s a bonafide spirit raiser.

I love how the gags are often pushed to being taken literally: the pup’s hind legs turning into a fin as he mimics a seal, his face contorting to match Rover’s and Porky’s, the “WE’VE BLASTED!” sign after warnings of “DANGER – WE’RE GONNA BLAST” sprinkle up between shots, and so forth.

Moreover, there’s some fine animation in this one, from John Carey and Chuck Jones especially. The seal scene with the pup and the never-ending dynamite are probably my favorites, though there are a ton of funny shots as is, such as the pup with the dentures and Porky praying as the pup openly mocks him. 

Of course, it’s not perfect–the animation is messier in some places than others, and you could argue that the back and forth structure of the gags could grow repetitive, but the benefits certainly outweigh the negatives. This is a fun early piece that reflects how far the cartoons have come, but also demonstrates that there’s much to look forward to it. Go check it out!

Link!