181. The Case of the Stuttering Pig (1937)

Disclaimer: This review contains antisemitic content, stereotypes, and imagery. I in no way endorse any of this, but it’s just as important to bring awareness to these depictions rather than shove them under the rug. Please let me know if I make any mistakes or say something offensive, I want to take responsibility for my actions and use this as an opportunity to educate myself. Any outside commentary is more than welcome. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

Release date: October 30th, 1937

Series: Looney Tunes

Director: Frank Tashlin

Starring: Mel Blanc (Porky, The Guy in the Third Row), Billy Bletcher (Lawyer Goodwill), Shirley Reed (Petunia)

We explore one of Tashlin’s best directorial efforts to date. The Case of the Stuttering Pig (its title derived from The Case of the Stuttering Bishop, a Warner Bros. film released only 4 months prior) is the first of many Warner Bros. cartoons to take a jab at the ever popular Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

Here, Porky and his family (4 brothers and Petunia, who serves as his sister rather than a love interest) are terrorized by the nefarious Lawyer Goodwill, the family lawyer who turns himself into a Mr. Hyde facsimile, hoping to kill the family in order to snag some inheritance money.

Frank Tashlin’s cinematography is in peak form as the cartoon opens to a ghastly exposition–William Tell’s “The Storm” rages alongside a furious storm. Intricate camera angles include an upshot on a giant old house, trees whipping in the wind against the flashing lightning, and a close up of the window shudders snapping against the exterior. 

The snaps of the window shudders soon melt into the droning tick of a clock inside, an upshot exposing dynamic, drawn out shadows against the walls. Tashlin handles the contrast between values exceptionally well. Backgrounds are crisp, clear, and pronounced.

Cue a vertical pan of Porky’s siblings (Patrick, Peter, Percy, Portus--a reference to Portis Kansas, storyman Tubby Millar's hometown which was referenced in a number of Tashlin/Millar entries--and Petunia) all lined up against the wall in a row of chairs. Each appear apprehensive, obviously on edge. Not Porky, though. Porky’s at the very end of the row, looking on with a hilariously blank smile plastered on his face. 

Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupts the silence. Cue the famous Tashlin jump cut: we only see Volney White’s animation of Porky jumping out of his seat, but the next shot reveals all of the siblings hanging from a chandelier, with Porky trepidatiously inquiring “Who-who-who-who-who-who’s theh-the-the-the-the-there…?” 

You can still feel Mel’s attempts to distinguish his own unique Porky stutter from the authentic stutter provided by Joe Dougherty–this delivery is more Dougherty-esque than some of his others. 

Billy Bletcher’s syrupy sweet vocals ring out from behind the door, the disembodied voice introducing himself as Lawyer Goodwull. The decision not to showcase who’s behind the door is a smart one. Suspense is absolutely rife all throughout the cartoon, and the beginning is no exception. 

With a peppy “Okey deh-eh-eh-deh-do… oh-oh-okey deh-deh… okay!”, Porky is followed by his siblings as he happily allows this mysterious Lawyer Goodwill inside. The suddenly calm, almost wholesome atmosphere inside, reassured by the self-proclaimed friendly presence of Lawyer Goodwill is disrupted as soon as the door opens, wind howling and blowing the entire family down the hallway as Goodwill fights his way inside, his face (and head, for that matter) completely concealed by his hat and collar. 

Tashlin plays on this as Goodwill removes his hat, a mere nub placed where his neck should be as a waterfall of rain pours out from the hat. Nevertheless, Goodwill reveals himself, a portly yet good-natured looking fellow as he tells the children it’s time to attend to “business”.

Lawyer Goodwill gathers the kids around to discuss the matter of their late Uncle Solomon (a pig caricature of Oliver Hardy, just one of a handful) and his will. 

The animation is slightly blurred and jittery from the double exposure effects of the shadows–animation historian Mark Kausler has this to say (transcribed from his excellent commentary that I’m partially parroting): 

“They used to hand crank the cameras here. This was before electric drive animation cameras–that’s why the shadows are so flickery, because they had to back the film up and then re-expose it to get the transparency of the shadow.”

Uncle Solomon’s will states that his heirs will inherit his money. However, if something were to happen to them, then Lawyer Goodwill gets the cash instead. Goodwill exits the house, reassuring that nothing will happen to the kids… “…I hope!”

There’s a gorgeous, moody upshot of the porch as Goodwill lumbers down the steps. Volney White is at the hand of this scene, easy to spot thanks to his telltale speed: Goodwill practically glides across the screen as he heads towards offscreen, only to whip back and put a hand over his hear, nefariously straining to hear if he’s being followed. Volney’s pose and expression are as strong as ever.

Bob Bentley takes over to animate Goodwill‘s transformation into the monster–his animation is very meticulous and well crafted. A good way to spot him is to see if characters have thicker eyebrows in some scenes than others. 

Goodwill swaps clothes in favor of a hat and cape almost effortlessly, gliding across the screen like butter. The flow isn’t interrupted, not even by the overlay of tables decorated with test tubes, skulls, etc. 

All of Goodwill‘s potential queries on how to transform into a hideous beast are answered with a bottle of “Jekyll and Hyde Juice” nestled conveniently on his shelf of various poisons. He pours the concoction into a cocktail, acting like a regular bartender as he shows off by pouring the mixture from glass to glass.

Tashlin’s timing, both behaviorally and comically, are succinct as Goodwill finally downs the mixture. He grips the table, taking heaving breaths, staring at the audience, until… 

Nothing. He heaves a dubious shrug. 

Instead, Goodwill opts to use a milkshake mixer (a relatively new invention whose novelty value would have scored much bigger laughs then than it does today, but still remains amusing at the very least) to mix his concoction, downing it once more.

Bob Bentley’s animation of the monster is nothing short of gorgeous. Well defined, well crafted, and dimensional. However, it does encapsulate antisemitic stereotypes and caricatures, from the big nose to clawed hands and pointy ears, as well as the desire for money. As skillful as the animation is, and as solid as the cartoon is, these are problems that still need to be addressed. Understand that when I’m praising the animation, I’m focusing on the techniques themselves and the technicalities behind it, not the content that’s being animated itself. (Thank you to the person who reached m out and took the time to educate me. It’s much appreciated.) 

Billy Bletcher snarls in his trademark deep voice, even quipping “You wouldn’t think I was lawyer goodwill now, would you?” He talks directly to the audience, getting right close in their face, jabbing his spindly finger and bulbous nose. He even goes as far as to berate his public by screeching “You bunch of softies! YEAH, YOU IN THE THIRD ROW! Ya BIG SOFTIE!” 

The fourth wall breaking is nothing short of genius. Just IMAGINE seeing this in a dark, packed movie theater! The effect would be phenomenal! (Especially if you were the guy in the third row! I’m sure all of the third-row-sitting patrons felt quite satisfied at these showings.) The monster vows to dispose of the family, sneering at our inability to help save our heroes.

Said heroes are contentedly socializing in the living room, peppy Porky talking about how safe and sound they are in their own little house. So, of course, that serves as the cue for a gnarly hand to grab the light switch and kill the lights. I love the detail of the shadow creeping along the wall before you even see the hand itself—little decisions like that go such a long way.

The lights go out, and all we hear is the pluck of an electric slide guitar. The lights come on, and one of Porky’s alliteratively named siblings is gone, with an X cleverly marked in his place. The ritual occurs four times, with Porky remarking each of the names of his fallen siblings (”Peh-peh-Patrick!” “Eh-peh-peh-peh-eh-Peter!” “Eh-peh-peh-eh-peh-Percy!” “Puh-Portus!”). 

The lights go out once more, and X’s mark where Porky and Petunia were just sitting prior. Definitely an artsy and interesting way to convey the kidnappings—even more so when we see Porky and Petunia trepidatiously popping their heads out from behind the armchair after the camera trucks in on their deserted spot

Volney White animates the close up of petunia clutching to porky, stuttering (from fear, that is) “G-g-gee, P-p-Porky, I’m scared!” 

Her voice here is provided by Sara Berner as opposed to Berneice Hansell, who voiced her in her last appearance in Porky’s Romance. Ironically, Hansell would take over for Petunia again after Bob Clampett adopted (and subsequently redesigned) her character. [EDIT: All appearances of Petunia are indeed Shirley Reed.]

Porky reassures her that they’ll find the brothers as we cue a clever pan from inside to outside the house, spotlighting the basement. The backgrounds are so gorgeous and moody! We find the pigs tied up in stocks, with the monster sneering about how he’ll do away with all the pigs once he nabs Porky and Petunia. 

Once more, our ever-aware villain resorts to heckling the poor sap in the third row: “and if that guy in the third row comes up, I’LL FIX HIM TOO! You big CREAMPUFF!” 

Again-–this is exceedingly entertaining to watch 83+ years later on a laptop screen, but imagine what a riot this would be in theaters! Frank Tashlin understood that the audience was paying to watch his cartoons, and he knew how to make it worth their time. The cartoons catered to the audience rather than the studio executives always make for the best ones—Tex Avery was especially keen of this, as we’ll soon explore.

Back to Porky and Petunia, both cautiously traipsing down the hallway as porky calls the names of his fallen brothers, both straining to hear any signs of life. While the poses aren’t nearly pushed to the same extremes as they would be in Tashlin’s second directorial stint from 1943-1946, they’re still quite nice and accentuated just enough. Certainly stronger than the poses present in the other directors’ cartoons. Seeing as Tashlin was a newspaper cartoonist, his illustrative, comic look translates well into his own cartoons. It’s almost as if his comic art has leapt right off the page, but also meshes well enough with the animation to have a good sense of motion to it. It’s the best of both worlds.

While Porky is unaware, Petunia is yanked off screen by a hand protruding from a trick wall panel. Suddenly, the villain himself tinkers behind Porky, mimicking his movements. Porky even manages to grab a hold of his gangly hand, assuming it’s Petunia, going so far as to look him straight in the eyes and shush him. 

The Volney White animated villain looks strikingly different than that of Bob Bentley’s–—White’s is exceedingly more streamlined and design driven, especially around the eyes. He’s not nearly as hairy, grotesque, or dimensional. Not that that’s a bad thing! In fact, I love when animators are able to make their styles so distinguishable from the other animators. Not only is it fun, it makes identifying animation much easier.

When Porky finally realizes that he’s being stalked by the monster, he does the signature Volney White eye take and runs for the hills, er, stairs. Tashlin’s speed dominates as Porky scales flights of stairs at lightning speeds—it’s dizzying to even watch! 

Eventually, Porky jumps right into the arms of the monster, clinging to him (thinking it’s Petunia) as he describes what he just saw: “I eh-seh-saw the most teh-teh-teh-eh–awful leh-leh-lookin’ man, all beh-beh-big and beh-beh-eh-bleh-black… beh-beh-BIG teeth…” 

All the while, Porky is grabbing onto the villain’s nose and clinging to him like a baby. The animation is positively hilarious, especially when Porky recognizes who he’s being cradled by, actually connecting nose to snout as he lets out a scream and barrels down the staircase once more, the same footage from before just in reverse. A wonderful scene with great dialogue and hilarious animation. Bob Clampett would borrow this in his own Jeepers Creepers just two years later, with a ghost in place of the monster.

Porky locks himself in the basement, discovering his siblings tied up in stocks (”Leh-leh-land sakes alive!”), his attempts to free them interrupted by the sound of the villain knocking the door down. 

Interestingly enough, after we pan to the monster infiltrating the premises, the next shot is the entire family huddled in a corner, indicating that Porky did manage to free them after all. The technique is reminiscent of the cartoon’s beginning, where we see only Porky jump out of his seat before showing all of the siblings hiding in the chandelier. 

Just as it looks like the pig family is bacon, a random chair from offscreen is lobbed at the monster, sending him tumbling right into the stocks. 

The family is just as perplexed as the viewer, asking in unison “Who DID that?”

“ME!” Mel Blanc’s gruff, more natural voice rings out from behind the screen. The locked up monster ogles at the audience, pointing a gangly finger as he snarls “Who are YOU?” 

Mel’s tough guy New Yoik accent snarls back “I’M DA GUY IN DA THOID ROW, YA BIG SOURPUSS!” Iris out on a deflated, dejected villain—just IMAGINE witnessing this in real time in the theaters! 

This cartoon is one of the reasons why Frank Tashlin is one of my favorite directors of all time. It’s got all of the Tashlin essentiasl. The effects animation by A.C. Gamer at the beginning is lovely, doing a wonderful job of establishing such an eerie mood. The raging, wild storm juxtaposes perfectly with the unsettlingly still atmosphere inside the house. 

Lawyer Goodwell makes an excellent villain, topped off with Billy Bletcher’s vocals and Bob Bentley’s skilled animation. The constant fourth wall breaking with him… need I say more? It’s such a great way to involve the audience with the picture and really suck in their attention, especially that ending. The animation is excellent, the backgrounds are gorgeous, it’s absolutely rife with atmosphere. This is Tashlin’s best effort thus far and one of his best efforts overall.

However, the antisemitic stereotypes and caricatures should be accounted for. While I do say you should watch this one to get an idea of Frank Tashlin’s mastery as a director, tread with caution and discretion. I absolutely don’t endorse these concepts. I realize I sing a lot of high praises and it sounds like I may be dismissing these concerns, but I promise that’s not the case. As masterful as this cartoon is, it still perpetuates harmful and inflammatory stereotypes. 

So, if you do want to watch it, here’s the link—just proceed with caution.