183. Porky's Double Trouble (1937)

Release date: November 13th, 1937

Series: Looney Tunes

Director: Frank Tashlin

Starring: Mel Blanc (Porky, Killer, Falsetto), Frederick Lindsley (Narrator), Shirley Reed (Petunia, Female Customers), Danny Webb (Male Customer, Mobster, Cop, Police Chief), Tedd Pierce (Mobster)

The end of an era—this is the final cartoon to feature “fat Porky”. Though he’d been dieting since late 1936 and steadily throughout 1937 with the other directors, Frank Tashlin was the last one to skinny him up. Ironic, since he was such a stickler for streamlined designs! Nevertheless, this is an exciting change, as Porky is finally completing his transformation into the pig we know and love today.

Not only that, this is the final appearance of Frank Tashlin’s Petunia as well. She’d go on a hiatus all throughout 1938, only to be revived by Bob Clampett with a totally new design in 1939. Unfortunately, she was only kept for two more shorts before being discarded again. Parting is such sweet sorrow! 

We deal with not one Porky, but two: an escaped convict kidnaps Porky and steals his identity in order to successfully rob a bank. It’s up to Petunia to put a stop to this criminal’s crime spree… or is it? 

A silhouette of a pig furtively creeps under a blanket of typography from the title card. The pig isn’t our favorite stuttering porcine, but rather a grisly, stubbly Porky doppelganger attempting to escape from prison. He jumps and growls at the spotlight that shines on him, shooting at the offscreen subjects. Not only does he whip out two pistols, he even flips them–such a small detail of flamboyant dramatics goes a long way.

Prison guards shoot back at the convict, silhouetted against the night sky, illuminated only by the glow of the searchlight and the stylized white bullets raining down below. The composition is stellar, its flatness reminiscent of the backgrounds of the early ‘40s cartoons, primarily from the likes of Frank Tashlin, Chuck Jones, and even Norm McCabe. 

A whistle screeches as the prisoners run along, rifles in hand. In all, the dramatic opening rampant with silhouettes feels quite reminiscent to the opening of Little Beau Porky, another Tashlin entry just a year prior.

Callbacks are more blatant as we undergo the signature Frank Tashlin Expositional Montage, footage of cop cars racing out into the street reused from Tex Avery’s The Blow Out, while a close-up of a newspaper press is also reused from Avery’s Porky the Wrestler. All the while, a shot of the convict, identified as “Killer” by one of the newspapers in the montage, oversees the chaos, his eyes drifting along to survey the action, his lips parted in a sneer. The narration is the cherry on top--often times, narration has a tendency to feel redundant, as if it’s a crutch to support the gags (i.e. some of Tex Avery’s earlier entries), but here it elevates the theatrics of the entire prison escape.

Speaking of narrators, ours introduces us to a gangster hideout–an abandoned all girls school by the name of Katz School for Girls--a nod towards studio business manager Ray Katz--no doubt a place frequented by Killer. Tashlin’s cinematography is in full swing as we iris in on an exterior shot of the hideout before panning along the interior, an arsenal of weapons littering the schoolroom of years past. A smooth, clever transition of pans from the classroom to a grandiose hallway, focusing on a door.

Killer’s lackeys crowd around a table littered with alcohol bottles and playing cards, but most importantly, newspapers highlighting killer’s escape. His cronies all mutter words of praise in thick Brooklyn accents (”Yeah, dis guy’s clever, jus’ like Who-dun-y! He can get outta anyt’ing!”). The conversation between the gangsters is surprisingly natural and fun to listen to: one of the lackeys likens killer to “Clark Taylor”, a humorously false remembrance of actors Clark Gable and Robert Taylor combined.

Knocking outside the door prompts the cronies to whip around with their guns drawn, all crowing “Who’s ‘dere!?” in unison. Outside the door stands a rather spherical caricature of Mae West–if there’s a Mae West cameo, it must be a ‘30s cartoon! 

Mae informs the boys that she comes peddling a message from killer. Furtively, they all crowd around the door, stacking on top of each other, each peering out of their own peephole door. The silent film inspiration is strong in this shot. Not only that, its composition also reminds me of some of the shots in Tashlin’s Porky Pig’s Feat, a personal favorite of mine. 

All hesitation to let newcomers in is dropped once the cronies spot their curvaceous company. They’re instantly smitten, batting eyelashes and all, one of the cronies going so far as to stroke Mae the Messenger’s face. Tashlin’s cartoons always had a promiscuous flair to them, especially in the ‘40s--here is no exception. Perhaps it’s only natural, seeing as this entire cartoon is one large parody of all of the gangster pictures churning out from Warner Bros. at the time (Marked Woman, Kid Galahad, San Quentin to name a few.) 

“He said…” Mae lunges a haymaker, causing all four cronies to domino together and knock into the door as Mel Blanc settles out of his falsetto, “NOT T’ FOOL AROUND WITH DAMES, YA LUGS!!!” 

Killer strips out of his outfit (even removing an iron barbell from where his chest is), growling “Let that loin ya a lesson!” As always, Mel is fun to listen to–his falsetto voice sounds rather similar to the voice he’d use for his Lou Costello caricatures. 

Killer eyes a stray newspaper, gloating “Once I was only public enemy numba NINE!” at the sight of his new title as Public Enemy #1. It should be noted that in Tashlin’s first picture, Porky’s Poultry Plant, another “public enemy” gag is used. Gag continuity is always fun to see! 

His eyes drift over to an article on the other side of the page (if you look closely, the date is “Thoisday, Octember 42nd”, the paper addressing the denizens of “Porkysville”.): 

“Hey! What’s dis? Da guy looks just like me! He could be me twin brudda!” 

Frank Tashlin’s disgruntlement with Porky can be felt multiple ways here. Not only did he hesitate until 2.5 minutes into the cartoon to introduce him, the underscore is “Puddin’ Head Jones”, a frequent score associated with Porky on numerous occasions offering not-so-subtle commentary about his intelligence (or lack thereof.) Killer ushers his lackey to take a glimpse at his bank-teller doppelgänger, whispering a plan to them involving Porky and the bank, the narrator clueing us in that “the evildoers carefully plan another hideous crime.” 

It’s not a Tashlin cartoon without his signature up-shot: we iris in on an impressive up-shot view of “Worst National Bank”, a score of “Plenty of Money and You” and even the extravagant car horn of a limo solidifying that yes indeed, this here’s a bank! Inside, Porky dutifully deposits the goods of his spherically designed patrons. Even by 1937, these mathematically proportioned designs were out of style–I suppose Tashlin got the memo, though, seeing as this is the final “fat Porky” cartoon, indicating a transition into more modern, streamlined designs. 

Bob Bentley animates a close-up of Porky depositing the cash of a Scottie dog. Cue the ever prevalent “cheap Scotsman” gag, the Scottie’s coin purse (a sock with a lock on it) revealing a swarm of moths upon its opening. He deposits a lone dime, Porky happily obliging to sign the bank book. The Scottie leaves, and it only takes a few bloated seconds for Porky’s brain to catch up with him, realizing that he just signed a bank book to deposit a measly dime. He smacks himself in the face, a Carl Stalling favorite cue of “You’re a Horses Ass” providing musical commentary as Porky glowers into the camera, hand sliding down his pudgy face. 

Stereotypes aside, this is a fun little scene. It gives Porky some personality, accentuating his gullibility (a persistent factor of his character, no matter who is directing him), and Bob Bentley’s animation is extremely appealing. No discretion to Volney White, who animates the next scene, but there’s a noticeable difference in Bentley’s and White’s styles, Bentley’s animation much more dimensional. I absolutely love how he draws Porky.

Secretary Petunia, once again voiced by Sara Berner, coos at Porky to come over to her desk. She wastes little time flirting with him, asking that the two “step out” for the night. Volney’s animation of Porky is hysterical–his discomfort is exceedingly visible. 

Porky gets cold feet, a stuttering mess (more than usual) as he sputters “Geh-eh-g-eh-g-g-gee, miss Petunia, I’m, uh, buh-beh-bashful… huh…heh, you’re so eh-peh-purrty, and eh-uh-I’m, uhh… yee-you’re, uh…” 

Cue one of my favorite deliveries ever by Mel Blanc as the lunch bell rings. Porky grins, realizing he’s saved by the bell. He doesn’t stutter once as he declares breathlessly “It’s time for lunch, g’bye!” and rushes off. The comedic timing, both from Mel’s delivery and Volney’s animation, couldn’t be better. 

Porky strolls outside, where he stumbles across Killer (disguised as Mae West again) hammering away at a car. Porky’s good nature prevails, which often leads to trouble: with a polite tip of the hat, he asks if the woman needs any assistance. “Would you be so kind?” 

As Porky works on the vehicle, Killer prepares to strike, hammer in hand. His motives are thwarted as Porky turns to offer assurances that the car will be fixed in a jiffy, Killer impatiently hiding the bludgeoner behind his back. The charade continues, Porky turning and talking, putting a stop to the nefarious deeds. 

When Porky turns to say “Eh-nuh-neh-nuh-now, it’s in the beh-beh-eh-beh-bag!”, Killer grunts in his normal voice “SO ARE YOU!”, kicking Porky under the hood and peeling off in the car to certain doom.

The transition from Killer kidnapping Porky to Killer putting on Porky’s clothes (who’s bound and gagged in a chair) is surprisingly snappy, yet comprehensible and smooth. Of course, the narration does contribute to the clarity, but regardless, such a quick transition can be difficult to convey smoothly and clearly. Tashlin does it very well.

Volney White animates Killer’s taunts to Porky: “and, wit’ your sissy clothes on, I can rob da bank! And YOU’LL take da rap, see!? AHAHAHA!” Volney’s animation is fun to watch–before I saw this cartoon for the first time, I only ever saw google images of it, this scene being one of those images. Volney’s eye takes amazed me at how anachronistic they seemed, and I recall likening him to Joe Murray if he made cartoons in 1937. Very fun eye takes indeed! 

Speaking of fun, Bob Bentley does a neat little scene involving a brawl between Killer and his reflection in the mirror. He goes to check out his new pilfered duds (”Now I look like da squoit!”), admiring himself in the mirror. Suddenly, his reflection grows a life of its own, sticking its tongue out. Real Killer gets pissed (if you notice, when he does a take of surprise, you can see where the cel of the reflection gets cut off) and punches the mirror, leaving the glass broken, his reflection now touting a blackened eye. While the “reflection becoming sentient” gag may seem tired, I enjoy how interactive killer’s reflection is, all without saying a word. The staging feels incredibly natural and nonchalant.

With that, Killer makes his way to the bank, whistling along to the underscore of “With Plenty of Money and You” beneath the words of the narrator. You can spot a bit of camera trouble as the camera pans out from the sign at Porky’s desk reading “PORKY PIG – OUT TO LUNCH”: the pan janky, the picture briefly turning blurry before resuming to normalcy. It’s more interesting than detrimental, especially considering Warner Bros. never did retakes.

Cue a montage of “Porky” stowing away the goods of the townspeople into his pocket, pretending to deposit them in the bank. The minor key rendition of “Puddin’ Head Jones” is a nice reminder of Killer’s similarities and differences to Porky. Similar in appearance, maybe, but not much else. 

Petunia engages in her routine from before, attempting to seduce “Porky”. Mel Blanc’s genius shines as killer responds to Petunia’s calls in a gruff, scratchy “YEAH, WHAT IS IT!?” He catches himself, and responds in an authentic Porky voice “Ye-ye-ye-yes, wuh-weh-wuh-weh-what is it?” 

The transition is seamless. Whether it was on one take or two separate recordings, I don’t know, but it remains just as entertaining either way. I especially like how Killer switches from “yeah” to “yes”–Porky’s personality, while still relatively thin at this point, is certainly coming clearer. At the very least, Frank Tashlin knows that Porky would likely say "yes" over "yeah". It’s a little detail, but it says a lot.

And, just like myself, Petunia also understands the distinctions between Killer and Porky–especially when Killer plants a kiss on her as soon as she pulls the same “How ‘bout you and I stepping out tonight, big boy?” routine. Killer grabs her in his arms, sneering “Why wait until tonight, baby?” and gives her a kiss, prompting Petunia to smack him and declare “Why, you’re not Porky Pig!” Killer’s response is full of careful wit and thoughtfulness as he so eloquently answers: “SO WHAT?” 

Ringing the burglar alarm, that’s what. Petunia discreetly sets the alarms off, prompting a flurry of bullets to whiz at Killer offscreen (they sure have good security!). Killer retaliates with his own shotguns, but quickly speeds off to his hideout, goods still in his possession.

Killer and his lackeys admire the treasures stacked on the table, eager to pounce. A clever pan to Porky, still writhing around in his ropes as killer sneers “AND DEY ‘TINK YOU DID IT!” 

Tashlin’s artistry strikes again as we peer at the hideout through the bars of iron gates outside. Truck out to reveal police officers crowding around outside, crouching on the ground to remain discreet. The shot is composed rather nicely, with the ground level nearing the horizon line, elevating the subjects to the middle plane. Even though the shot itself doesn’t linger very long, the clarity is easy to see. A tree placed off to the side cleverly frames the two officers who are on the screen--little things like that make a big difference.

One of the lackeys notices the cops are lurking by, alerts the others, and immediately shoots his machine gun out the window. Watch all of the stuff flying out of his pocket as he shoots–playing cards, knives, guns, jewelry, even a wig! Definitely a fun scene to freeze frame and pick apart all the details. 

The cops retaliate, and an all-out shootout occurs. A gag reused from I’m a Big Shot Now and Porky’s Duck Hunt ensues as a cop shoots up at the building, the impact from his rifle driving him into the ground as each shot digs the hole deeper and deeper. Another rather fun gag includes a woodpecker drilling into a tree, causing the officer in the branch to clutch his heart and moan “They got me!” 

In the process, stray bullets from down below shoot out of the floor, conveniently ripping the ropes bounding Porky to the chair. A quick bird’s eye view of the hideout, and it’s onto Porky to take action. Because we all remember Porky as a suave, charismatic crime fighter, it’s only natural for him to jump onto a chandelier hanging from the hallway and knock all of Killer’s cronies into a door. 

Volney White’s animation prevails for the remainder of the cartoon. Porky hops down from the upstairs landing, plopping down right on top of Killer himself. Both come to fisticuffs, Volney’s hilarious facial expressions and Treg Brown’s masterful sound effects combining to make quite the amusing amalgamation. Certainly a scene worthy of freeze-framing for all of the funny faces! 

Perhaps even more amusing, however, is the drastic tone shift as soon as the cops arrive: no time is wasted during the transition between the fight and an armed cop probing “Alright, who’s the killer!?” The fight breaks up in an instant off screen, and porky (his voice un-sped) pleading “I’m uh-puh-peh-puh-peh-Porky!” 

The transition is almost too swift, but is comical over everything else, so I’m not too slighted by it. Killer insists in his own gruff voice “I’M Porky!” The cop isn’t convinced, and tries again. Both insist that they’re Porky.

That’s when it’s Petunia to the rescue, who assures the cop that she knows how to find out. She cozies up to the real Porky, once more enacting their “big boy” charade from earlier. As Porky flops over his words in all of his collar-tugging glory, Petunia gloats “That’s Porky.” Porky nodding along to her affirmation is a nice, subtle touch.

As we’ve repeatedly discovered, Frank Tashlin was no fan of Porky. Even though he outwardly admits that he didn’t like to work with him, there are multiple clues throughout his pictures solidifying his disdain. Here is no exception, as Petunia outright screws Porky over. 

Her sultry demeanor changes from reassuring to duplicitous as she heaves a sigh and coos “How that killer can kiss!” Porky rightfully grows angry, and allows his jealousy to triumph his bashful, reserved nature as he grabs Petunia’s arms and pulls her in for a kiss. Killer’s eye-boggling, affronted expression and Porky’s triumphant, chest-puffing stance after the fact are both hilarious. Volney White does a wonderful job of conveying personality through his animation.

Here’s the kicker. Despite getting her kiss from Porky, Petunia still isn’t satisfied. She coldly remarks “I STILL take the Killer!” With that, Porky can only gawk in awe as Petunia and Killer march arm-in-arm out the door, Petunia cooing that she’ll wait until Killer gets out of prison. Iris out.

The voice acting steals the show in this cartoon. Mel KILLS it (no pun intended) as Killer, from the falsetto to the Porky impersonation–which is just Mel doing his regular Porky voice–to Killer’s evil belly laughs. Sara Berner does a fine job as Petunia, and Tedd Pierce’s narration is always a joy to hear. I’m unsure of who voices the lackeys, as they don’t quite sound like Mel, but nevertheless, they too are fun to listen to, especially their introductory dialogue. If anything, you should check out this short for the voice work alone.

Frank Tashlin’s eye for cinematography sparkles as it always does. The opening montage is particularly impressive, especially the use of silhouettes. Very bold and striking. His layouts are very well structured, and the cartoon flows very nicely. It’s a snappy one, but it hardly feels like it drags. There’s a lot packed into these 7 minutes! 

Though I do pity Porky, especially at the end, I will concede that the end IS a good shocker, even if Petunia is straight up cruel. Porky’s personality is slowly weeding its way out of the woods, with some traits (good natured, gullible) sticking to his character all throughout his career. Progress is being made! 

And, as I said before, as much as I enjoy the fat Porky design, I won’t shed too many tears over this being its final appearance, because it marks a new step forward for Warner Bros. Cartoons are becoming funnier, snappier, wittier, the Disney influence continually waning. Good things await.

I definitely recommend you check this one out. While it’s not my all time favorite Tashlin cartoon, there’s a lot to admire, from voice direction to animation to even the layouts. 

Link!