180. The Lyin' Mouse (1937)

Release date: October 16th, 1937

Series: Merrie Melodies

Director: Friz Freleng

Starring: Mel Blanc (Cat), Billy Bletcher (Cat Humming, Lion), Berneice Hansell (Mice)

This cartoon debuts a REALLY helpful bonus (that you can’t see on account of the Blue Ribbon re-issue): the story man is finally credited! No more guessing games as to who wrote what! Of course, some valuable details are still omitted (backgrounds, layouts) which can sometimes be deciphered with a bit of sleuthing, but this is a nice start. I’ll start crediting the story, animation, music, layouts/backgrounds, etc. once the title cards move to the three part formula (that is: title, credits, director’s credit), which is sometime in the mid ‘40’s. 

For now, a little mouse retells the fable of the lion in the mouse (with some loony touches, of course) to a hungry cat in an attempt to satiate the cat’s appetite for the rodent.

Berneice Hansell’s shrieks accompany a still of the basement where our tale takes place. Fade and zoom into a poor little mouse caught in a mouse trap, trying and failing to free its tail from the iron bar. The mouse’s cries of “helphelphelphelphelphelpHELP!” do nothing but attract unwanted attention–a quick, speedy pan that recalls the techniques of Frank Tashlin’s reveal a hungry cat licking its chops in anticipation. 

I personally love the cat’s design, the coloring on the eyes especially is really unique and stands out. The mouse, on the other hand, looks like all of the previous Freleng mice that have dominated his cartoons, especially around the 1936 season. 

The mouse begs for the cat to spare him. I love the purposeful indifference on the cat’s part–humming nonchalantly (the humming provided by Billy Bletcher as opposed to Mel Blanc) as he ties a napkin around his neck and places the mouse between two slices of bread, even salting him. 

Tugging at the heart strings isn’t enough to quench this kitty’s appetite. The mouse’s attempts at bargaining are soon replaced with giggles as he’s slathered with mustard (gotta go the whole nine yards!), soon silent as the cat prepares to take a bite of his mouse-wich. Thankfully for the mouse, its tail is still caught in the trap, and he’s yanked forcefully out from the sandwich just as the cat prepares to take a bite.

Like always, Berneice Hansell’s deliveries are all too amusing to listen to as he proposes a deal with the cat. If the cat spares him, he’ll do a good deed in return. The cat doesn’t buy it (”Ha! Dat’s rich. A mouse help a cat. Ha!”), prompting the mouse to ask if he’s ever heard of the story about the lion and the mouse. 

Hansell’s deliveries are in tip top form as she eagerly exposes the plot, her voice reaching frequencies that even dogs would strain to hear. The gaspy breaths of excitement are another plus. Tex Avery would usually be the one to use her vocals as a punchline, pushing the audience’s limits on how long they can stomach her squealing (and I use that affectionately!), but you can certainly see Friz also taking that approach here. Likewise, the mouse’s voice reaches an opposite extreme, thundering in a low bellow as he describes the great, big, bad lion. I could be wrong, but the dimensional acting on the mouse, particularly the close-ups, feel like the work of Bob McKimson to me.

Though amusing, the opening portion of the cartoon does teeter on the sweet and sentimental side more than it does funny and witty. Thankfully, we get more of the good stuff during the actual retelling of the story. The lion makes his grand debut, marching through a line of trees that bend to allow his threatening physique through. 

Facing the audience, Billy Bletcher does his classic, bellowing voice as the lion introduces himself as the rip-snortin’-est lion in the whole world, going on an entire tangent all ending in -”est”, a mannerism that would be adopted by Friz’s own Yosemite Sam years later. 

The animation of the lion is a bit distracting and clumsy, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s on the fault of the ink and paint department rather than the animator (or both). His mane in particular feels rather floaty and too geometrical. 

Nevertheless, Bletcher’s vocals are keen. To demonstrate just how large and in charge he is, the lion takes a deep inhale and exhale, causing an entire wind burst to blow the trees to and fro–even the grass rolls and unrolls like a carpet.

Transition to a baby ostrich happily strutting along, the same ostrich reused from Freleng’s Plenty of Money and You just a few moths prior. The lion bellows its roar from offscreen, prompting the terrified ostrich to jab its head in the ground, lifting its head up (and a clump of dirt consequently hanging from its neck) and dashing off into the hills after the next roar. 

The scene does feel slightly out of place, transitions between scenes noticeable, but Ken Harris’ animation is always nice to see. The timing, at least, is very well done. The next scene, however, has more clumsy and conservative animation, featuring animals running away and back again to their water hole after being scared off by the lion. It beckons memories of past cartoon eras.

Nevertheless, another Hansell-voiced mouse (the eponymous mouse, that is) appears and is ready for some mischief making. He blows into a horn that is, to the animals, all to reminiscent of the lion’s roar. The animals of the jungle take off, including a turtle couple who jump in the same shell to escape, slightly comparable to another turtle couple in Tex Avery’s Don’t Look Now just a year prior. 

Of course, the mouse gets his just desserts when the mean ol’ rip-snortin’-est lion himself is right behind the mouse, watching him double over in squeaky hysterics. Once the mouse realizes he’s about to become dinner (doing a nice little stretch take), he’s quick to drop his games, now whistling anxiously, a big, cheesy grin plastered on his face, taking a few cautious steps backwards. Gorgeous personality animation. 

As the mouse pleas for his life, giving the ol’ “I have a wife and kids at home!” excuse, the lion is distracted by a smell radiating from off screen. A rotisserie chicken is conveniently placed in a bear trap, the trap labeled as the FRANK CLUCK EXPEDITION (a take on famed hunter Frank Buck).

Similarly structured scenes, both animated by Cal Dalton.

Thankfully for the mouse, the lion lets him go, preoccupied with his plentiful poultry meal. The mouse zips away thankfully, only to zip right back at equal speeds and thank the lion before zipping away again. This gag would be used verbatim only 3 years later with Freleng’s You Ought to Be in Pictures, with Porky in place of the mouse. Coincidentally, both are animated by Cal Dalton, too. (Thanks, Devon!) The mouse DOES drop by one extra time to reassure the lion that if he ever needs help, he’ll return the favor.

Thus cues the lion’s endeavors to pilfer the poultry. Realizing all too quickly that simply reaching for the chicken will result in unwarranted decapitation of the arm thanks to the bear trap, he has to come up with something crafty. So, he opts to take the nonchalant approach, whistling and rocking back and forth unassumingly. The timing is very well executed as he pounces in a flash, reduced to a mere blur as he snags the chicken out from the clutches of the trap just in time. If you look closely, you can even spot some airbrush being used in conjunction with the speed lines.

Unfortunately for the lion, what he fails to realize is that the chicken is rigged–the friendly folks behind the Frank Cluck expedition put a mouse trap inside the hollow chicken that clamps to the lions nose as soon as he gets a whiff of his not-so-future meal. However, an innocent lamb calls to the attention of the lion, distracting him from his pain.

The lamb is tied to a box that reads “FRANK CLUCK EXPEDITION – lion trap no. 5″, pointing to a sign that encourages the lion to take it home free. The lion is enticed, but just as he goes to reach for the lamb’s neck, he recognizes the lion trap sign. Instantly, he taps his foot, deep in thought, the whole scene rather reminiscent of Freleng’s Life With Feathers in which Sylvester does the same thing, pondering whether or not he should swallow a suicidal bird. The timing is much faster then, but the joke still lands even here. 

Finally, the lion decides to dismiss the act all together, waving his hand away as he leaves. The pantomiming is excellent–no words are necessary to convey the dialogue happening in this scene. Regardless, the lamb urges the lion to return, advertising signs about the health benefits of mutton. Even the lush orchestration of “Too Marvelous for Words” reaches its climax at the punchline–the lamb seductively displays its leg, the sign exclaiming “EAT LEG OF LAMB SAYS DR. KNOWIT”.

Finally, the lion is convinced, and he grabs the lamb. As he does, the box advertising the Frank Cluck expedition opens, and a boxing glove socks the lion right in the face. Great timing on Friz’s part as a hunter wastes no time swooping in to tie the lion by the legs, posing triumphantly as a crowd takes photos and videotape the event for all to see. It all happens in a flash and unfolds quite well–the only downside is that the lion and hunter are subject to some DVNR (digital video noise reduction).

Segue back to the present day, where the hungry mouse eager for the mouse to continue, invested in the story despite his harsh resistance against it prior. The detail of him sitting with his elbows on his knees like an eager little kid listening to a story is priceless, especially juxtaposed with the grating tones of Mel’s voice as he urges “Yeah? Yeah? Go on, go on! ‘den what happened?” 

“Soooooooo…!”, we spot the lion caged up at the circus, a lion tamer cracking his whip and performing tricks for the audience. I always love looking at the crowd shots in the ‘30s and ‘40s cartoons, they’re so amusing and can sometimes even border ghastliness. 

In a callback to Rudolf Ising’s I Love a Parade back in 1932, Ken Harris does some excellent animation of the lion tamer placing his head in the lion’s open mouth, and, consequently, the lion placing his own head in the tamer’s mouth. The animation of both shaking their hands in triumph (and the hilarious drawing of the lion tamer opening his mouth wide) is great. Ya gotta love the Harris smears. 

“And ‘den, one night…” We get a shot of the mouse telling the story in the present as a means to transition scenes, a move that could have easily been achieved with just Hansell’s narration and no animation. Regardless, the lion sulks tearfully in his cage. However, as promised, the little brown mouse lives up to his word by surprising the lion at the cage, shushing him to keep quiet. 

Carl Stalling’s score of “Old King Cole” is lush and beautiful as the mouse chews his way through the wooden door of the cage, only stopping to begrudgingly spit out a nail. A lion sized hole is perfectly gnawed through the wood, and both the lion and mouse retreat away into the night, fleeing the circus once and for all.

“And that’s how the mouse saved the lion. Now, won’t you let me go?” The brash, bold, grumpy cat from before is reduced to a tearful, sniveling sentimentalist as he frees the mouse, whimpering a pathetically hilarious “Okay… I’m awfully sorry…” He’s even so kind as to give the mouse the piece of cheese that was used as bait.

The mouse displays the growth of warner bros. Cartoons and their developing sense of identity as he zips away with the cheese, yelling “SUCKER!” and darting into the mouse hole. Surprisingly, Berneice Hansell gives the line instead of your typical Mel Blanc shriek. The lip sync doesn’t align with the audio at all, however–the animation feels much more extreme than Hansell’s delivery. I wonder if Mel said the line originally, and they made a last minute change? Who knows. 

Nevertheless, the cat rams into the wall, failing to catch the mouse. Instead, he turns to the audience and growls “Can ya imagine that?” in an ode to Tex Avery’s Porky the Rain-Maker. Iris out.

While far from Friz’s best, it’s far from his worse. It’s certainly much more enjoyable than his previous entry, Dog Daze. The actual retelling of the story is the best part, yet despite their nostalgic nature the cat and mouse scenes do hold up, especially the personality of the cat and the “SUCKER!” ending. 

Model sheet of the mouse.

That ending and the leg of lamb gag display the growing disenfranchisement with the Disney roots of Warner Bros. cartoons. Ever so slowly, the cartoons are finally making a name for themselves, and will continue to do so for years to come. 

Some aspects of the short drag–the opening is particular slow–but they’re padded with amusing vocals, and I’m enamored with the cat’s design. It isn’t the most substantial in terms of story or momentum, but there’s plenty to be amused by. It does have its lively moments. Carl Stalling’s musical arrangements are gorgeous as always and a delight to listen to. 

Overall, you could go either way, but I lean more towards the “give it a watch” side, especially if you’ve been keeping up with this journey and are acquainted with the cartoons of the past. Friz has dozens and dozens of cartoons better than this one, but he also has dozens of cartoons worse than this. I say give it a leisurely watch! 

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