Release Date: August 6th, 1938
Series: Looney Tunes
Director: Bob Clampett
Story: Bob Clampett
Animation: Bobe Cannon, John Carey
Musical Direction: Carl Stalling
Starring: Mel Blanc (Porky, Daffy, The Champ, Referee, Spectators)
Immediately, the short lulls the audience into a false sense of security by opening with a tranquil establishing shot of Porky and Daffy's house in the morning. Exposition is established swiftly through the lettering on their mailboxes: Manager Porky Pig and Fighter Daffy Duck is enough to indicate their ever changing job titles and partnerships. Here, Daffy is a professional boxer with Porky as his manager. The padlocks locking the mailboxes shut are a subtle yet great little detail, an appetizer of the broad and rambunctious humor to follow.
Though it may be inconsequential to note, it seemed Bob Clampett was rather taken with establishing close-ups of hands. Porky's Party began with a close-up of Porky's hands lighting the candles on a cake; here, after a shaky camera truck-in on the establishing shot of the house, we're met with a close-up of Porky's hands taking in the milk bottle and newspaper lying on his doorstep.
The animation is very well crafted, as was the case in Porky's Party. Movements read as ginger and light, and even the wrinkles on Porky's shirt can be seen. While far from the quality of close-ups and acting to come in future cartoons, it's enough to stand out in its own rite for the time being and serve as a nice piece of business. Additionally, the textures on the welcome mat juxtapose nicely with the remaining smooth feel of the surrounding background.
Bobe Cannon animates the entire opening of the cartoon, with Porky in his pajamas taking a looksee at the newspaper headline. Clampett cuts to a close up of the newspaper headline, flaunting a $500 prize for any newcomers who wish to beat the reigning boxing champ (an anemic looking rooster).
In later years, Bob Clampett would often use still images or long establishing pans as a way to save money (he was notorious for going over budget in a number of his cartoons). Here, the close-up of the newspaper headline serves as a story device, but also in a way that's economical and saves some money. Clampett would do the same with the opening to Porky in Wackyland, which, coincidence of coincidences, is his next cartoon.
Regarding the newspaper itself, a lot of whimsy is embedded in its short scene. Carl Stalling's music score transforms from calming to energetic, pompous and sporty with a lot of flourishes and bold instruments. The sports page is adorned with Bob Clampett's comic-inspired illustration style, with two boxers in the upper left corner and stylistic flourishes on the header itself. Not only that, but upon incredibly close inspection, the newspaper article peppers a number of Easter eggs in: the campion is evidently named Cockey, Bob Clampett is mentioned, and while cut off, it appears a certain "Er... Gee" may be reference to Ernest "Flash" Gee, a friend and coworker of Clampett's who would write a number of his cartoons.
As a manager, Porky knows a ripe opportunity when he sees one. In mere seconds he's bounding up the staircase, waving the newspaper and breathlessly calling Daffy's name. It's worth noting that Bob Clampett would use the same layouts and animation in the ending of his Patient Porky, released a mere 2 years later.
Bobe Cannon's animation is rife with spirit and pairs exceptionally well with Carl Stalling's equally reflective music score. The long pan of Porky running down the hallway and skidding to a halt is exceptionally well done--no gaps in momentum or speed, the camera movements are swift and create a fine sense of movement and rhythm. Carl Stalling's xylophone flourishes in the music score help to mimic and blend Porky's action with the music, making for a well packaged end product.
With that, Porky skids swiftly into the bathroom/bedroom, where Daffy is dozing in a bathtub; a natural (and of course, whimsical) fit for waterfowl. Porky, ever the gentle and considerate roommate, rouses his partner with a not-so-gentle "Eh-we-wa-wa-eh--get up!"
Porky flaunts the newspaper as he prattles on, pointing excitedly and rambling about how he's finally got a fight for Daffy. Daffy, however, does not share the same enthusiasm, much to Porky's visual (and verbal) annoyance.
"Leh-look, Daffy! Weh-wak-eh-eh--get up! Ceh-come on now, Daffy! Ge-ge-eh--wake up! Open your eyes! Eh-deh-Daffy! Deh-Daffy!"
Mel Blanc's energetic vocal performance is the perfect fit for Bobe Cannon's frenzied animation of Porky violently jostling Daffy, who merely rolls over. Though Porky's voice verges on the grating side the more hysterical he gets, it packs plenty of charm and a very real sense of urgency. It serves as further validation for the off-the-walls nature of the short--even cute, demure Porky is reduced to a blubbering, ecstatic mess, shouting and running through the halls and shaking the daylights out of Daffy. A stark contrast to what he used to be when he just started out.
With a scowl, Porky ceases his frenzy as he pauses to think. Stalling's music score grows louder, the flutes and calming guitar strums amplified to magnify the sense of calm and stillness as Porky ponders how to awaken Daffy.
Praises cannot be sung enough for the personality of Cannon's animation. His drawings are appealing, cute, and funny; Porky's scowl as he thinks and the subsequent wink that practically screams "Ehh-eure-keh-eh-keh... eure-keh-keh-eh... yee-eure--I got it!" are especially attractive, as is the head swaggle as Porky hatches his brilliant idea.
Said brilliant idea is efficient, if not incredibly rude and borderline sadistic. One gets the feeling that this is a regular morning routine.
Daffy, of course, pays no mind, and instead cavorts into hysterics. No time is wasted as he spends himself spinning, shrieking a chorus of his trademark "HOOHOO!"s as water flies into the air. No confrontation with Porky, hardly even a pause, just straight to the action.
The flow between the close-up and the next wide-shot of the bathroom is momentarily disrupted by a single drawing of Daffy being held for 5 frames. With the frantic animation of him spinning being shot on mostly ones, the pause does come as a slight jolt, but isn't something incredibly noticeable. Thanks to the magic of technology and freeze framing, inconsequential errors such as these are able to be caught with much more scrutiny. Purely food for thought rather than any criticism, and a reminder of the human hands and hearts that went into making these shorts come alive.
On the topic of life, Daffy has plenty of it as he sends water flying into the air with his gymnastics. He successfully converts the bathtub into a shower as the airborne water obeys the laws of gravity and splashes on top of Daffy like a steady shower.
Personal oblivion may be more to blame than anything, but in my own case, it took a number of watches to fully grasp the gag--the water pouring down on Daffy is caricatured to be like a shower, the water getting wider as it spreads further down, rather than one singular cylinder of water that would appear more natural and consistent with the gag. I blame personal folly more than anything, as it's a very creative and whimsical gag that is stretched to further cartoon potential with the water stream being shower-shaped.
Nevertheless, Daffy shrieks a line of "Singin' in the bathtub!" admist his chorus of shrill laughter. And, for good measure, he opts to continue his acrobatics by landing and twirling on top of Porky's head.
Daffy is very much a caricature of his namesake at this point, yet would begin to calm down as soon as Clampett's next duck cartoon, The Daffy Doc. Here, Daffy merely acts, rather than thinks. Clampett still clings to the elaborate pirouette-filled water ballet he animated in Porky's Duck Hunt--his daffiness, still the fresh novelty, was the priority rather than the character and true personality we'd begin to see in the coming months and years.
After leaping off Porky's head, Daffy slides into the next room and takes refuge in a dresser. Emerging in boxing garb, swinging and punching he then throws himself to the opposite corner of the room and onto the bed. Sparse are the furnishings in Porky and Daffy's house, yet in a way that furthers the illusion being orchestrated by the bed/boxing-ring. The overhead lamp above the bed, the tall headboard and footboard and single pillow which Daffy uses as his opponent all successfully suspend the audience's disbelief and momentarily transform the scene into that of a boxing ring's.
Never out of the ordinary with him, Carl Stalling's music score is in tip top shape. When Daffy springs onto the bed and performs his signature Stan Laurel hop, Stalling slips a quick cue of "You're a Horse's Ass" into his jovial rendition of "Singin' in the Bathtub", which, in turn, transforms from easy listening to brassy, triumphant impacts with each strike as Daffy punches and kicks pillow opponent, all while following the melody of the song.
I've attached a clip of the scene above to highlight the music score and how many flourishes Stalling adds to it, while keeping it all under the same umbrella. Masterful as always.
In my review of Porky’s Party, I erroneously stated that that was Chuck Jones’ final cartoon with Bob Clampett—while it was his final credit on a Clampett cartoon, Porky & Daffy appears to be his true swan song, as this entire scene possesses earmarks of his animation and style. Smooth, flowing movements, animation on ones, and a general rounder, squashed look to Daffy similar to his appearance in Jones’ Daffy Duck and the Dinosaur. Jones’ animation stands out as it always does, and packs plenty of weight and appeal in a scene that may have been lacking had a different animator been in charge. One particular effect he does nicely is timing the animation on ones, but animating Daffy sinking into the bed shot on twos to sell the push of his weight and how much it launches him back up into the air, which is back on ones.
Our not-so-heavy heavyweight champion launches his opponent into the air with a flourish, twirling into the sanctity of the overheard lamp. Jones incorporates a glimpse of what’s to come with his own duck as Daffy poses with braggadocio, arms out and legs crossed.
Gravity serves as an appropriate ego check.
Time skip to the time of the fight, marked by not only a time card, but a signature overlay montage as well. Under the brazen score of “Feeling High and Happy”, a mob crowds into the arena in the midst of the cityscape nightlife. Their attendance is so overwhelming that the building begins to fracture, a crack rising up the façade...
and bursts open to reveal instant overflow seating.
The remainder of the montage reuses footage from Picador Porky, overlaid on a still image of a pelican referee and the anemic rooster from the newspaper.
The wide shot of the boxing ring is peppered with a number of newspaper comic touches found so prominently in Clampett's early work, particularly found in the silhouette of a man with large ears holding a cigar. Said cigar is illuminated, a single white ash burning amidst a sea of dark silhouettes. Great contrast in value and utilization of the black and white color scheme.
Thus introduces the referee, a pathetic, wimpy little pelican who debuts a prototype Marvin the Martian voice that Mel Blanc would utilize through many a cartoon. To get the crowd's attention, the referee sticks a train whistle in his mouth and blows, squeezing his bill like a bagpipe to eke out as much cartoon potential as possible.
"Your attention please!" John Carey provides the animation of the pelican addressing the crowd, identifiable by the floaty, never static movement and pill shaped eyes.
Cue a great bit of wordplay as the wimpy pelican asks "Who... wants to fight?"
In an instant, a gang of derby donning, teeth baring brutes rush up to the boxing ring and corner the referee, slinging insults and threats.
Pelican referee is understandably intimidated, covering his face and cowering before he finishes "...the champ!"
"FIGHT THE CHAMP?" A chorus of cowards ring out through the stadium.
Just as quick as they were to threaten the pelican, they drop their bravado in a flash as they scurry off stage. Carey's cycle of the brutes running away is incredibly amusing, shot on ones to heighten the sense of urgency and comedy as some run in place, some flop in the air, and one even spins seated in the air.
Eventually they are reduced to mere streaks of paint, much to the relief of the accosted referee.
Enter a more eager pair of faces. Porky comes darting into the arena dragging an especially buff and ridiculous looking Daffy, shouting "Hey, eh-eh-meh-meh-mih-mister! Here we come!"
Porky shoves Daffy into the ring as he promises the referee "Eh-muh-meh-my duck will fight your old eh-ceh-eh-ceh-eh-ceh-ceh-eh-ceh-eh-eh--rooster!"
Norm McCabe takes over animation duties as the referee shouts right into the camera, his colassal, flaccid beak sweeping across the bottom of the screen as he declares "LADIEEEES AAAAAAND GENTLEMEEEEEN! THE MAAAAAAAIN EVENT!"
Our champ, the anemic rooster, is introduced in a breathless, alliterative spiel as a "magnificent, marvelous, multiple, monstrous, mad bawling mass of meaty muscles" who will make "mincemeat and mangle many menacing monsters from Manitoba to Minneapolis."
Facial expressions are more than worthy of a freeze frame. McCabe's animation is a powerhouse of comedy.
Pelican is visibly disoriented from his histrionics, practically crumpling to his feet as the own decrepit rooster rises to his spindly feet.
The champ looks just as winded as the pelican, slumped over with dead, exhausted eyes. A $500 prize to beat him seems too good to be true.
It is.
The champ proves himself worthy of his title by baring his teeth and growling ferociously. From the gummy, pronounced teeth to the excessive detail in his feathers, the drawings serve as a precursor to the type of work Rod Scribner would be doing under Clampett in the years to follow.
Ever ferocious, Daffy the bodybuilder remains stoic and hardly flinches as the champ bellows right into his face.
His cover is literally blown in an instant. To think of the possibility that Porky, his manager, very well could have put him up to this makes the payoff all the more amusing.
And, in a breakthrough moment, Daffy exhibits a shrapnel of self awareness and humifaction. It's worth mentioning, seeing as before this, he almost exclusively bounced and shrieked and whooped on his head. He has been humiliated before, such as the ending of What Price Porky where Porky steals his corn and makes fun of him to his face, but even then he never showed any self awareness or significant embarrassment. While still very much in the shackles of his own smiley lunacy, such a seemingly inconsequential gag shows the cracks beginning to form on his character, and the depth and versatility that is soon to come.
Of course, he resorts back to his heckling self after the champ blows his flour bag muscles away. With some quick thinking, Daffy transforms from bodybuilder to lion rooster tamer, grabbing a stool and whip and cornering the champ back into his spot. He does so, cowering and behaving like a real lion all the way.
Daffy heartily eats up the audience's applause.
As he struts back to his own corner, Daffy's walk is rife with energy and comedy. It's subtle, masked by the pelican introducing him, but aside from his blank, smiley stare, the duck performs a "double bounce" walk. Practically every single Porky cartoon directed by Bob Clampett from 1939 has him strutting at a default double bounce, a walk where (as the name implies) a character bobs up and down twice with each step as opposed to one.
Here, Daffy bounces from his butt, rather than his legs. The nonchalant delivery of such a zany and amusing gag really drives it home--it's not distracting in the slightest. Norm McCabe is responsible for the goofy gait.
As pelican introduces Daffy at a weight of "95 and 1/5th a-pound", Daffy swings his leg and kicks the pelican's beak, which causes his lips to vibrate and make gibberish sounds. When he finishes, Daffy lisps with great enthusiasm "Sold to the American Tabasco Company!", a reference to the Lucky Strike radio routine where tobacco auctioneers would pitch their sales in incoherent blabber before declaring "Sold American!"
With that, round 1 begins. Already, the two foes intimidate each other with some good ol' fashioned shadowboxing. Over top the action, the pelican instructs the fighters "Remember: no hitting below the belt!"
Daffy seeks refuge in the rules by hiking his boxing shorts up to his head. Another great "blink and you miss it" detail has his boxing gloves still swinging and moving in mid-air as he hikes his pants up, and hardly a beat is missed as he puts them back on. Full of wrinkles, squash, and stretch, the animation of the pants is a beauty in itself.
However, our champ thinks otherwise. Catching onto Daffy's games, it only takes one swing in the air for the impact to blow Daffy's pants away.
Once more, he exhibits some more self awareness and humiliation.
With a "HOOHOO!", Daffy heads for the hills, pursued by the hulking champ who seems hungry for a duck dinner. Porky, who has literally been sidelined, performs his managerial duties as he urges "Get on your beh-eh-bicycle, Daffy! Get on your bee-eh-beh-bee-beh-eh-buh-beh-bi-eh-beh-beh-beh-ehh--tricycle!" Bobe Cannon's animation is chock full of frantic arm swings, pumps, and overall movement to help sell the energy of the scene.
Despite the vague and eyebrow raising instructions, Daffy understands Porky's request perfectly, screeching to a halt. Just as the rooster launches himself at his ankles, Daffy perches himself in the air and gives a few kicks with his foot. And, in a matter of seconds, he parades around the ring on an invisible bicycle, going so far as to ring the invisible bell with his chest out and beak high in the air.
The momentum hardly stops for a second; even when Daffy loads himself onto the bike, the camera pan slows but never comes to a complete halt. One can physically feel the weight, the push, the pull of the movements and the bike ride. For such a completely ridiculous gag, it certainly packs a heavy fill of believability. Bob McKimson must have agreed, for he cribbed the same gag in his Boobs in the Woods 12 years later.
In an almost Hardaway-ian profession for his own condition, Daffy remarks on the absurdity of the situation himself as he stands on his hands and pedals with his feet: "I'm so crazy, I don't know this is impossible. WOOHOO!"
To milk a rather inconsequential but amusing scene, it does serve as food for thought when comparing the different directors and their takes on Daffy. So far, only Tex Avery and Bob Clampett have tackled the duck, with two cartoons to each of their names. Ben Hardaway, who wrote one of Tex's duck cartoons and added the same earmarks in his outing with proto-Bugs in Porky's Hare Hunt, is also worth mentioning. Tex Avery wasn't one to linger on characters professing their own craziness. Ben Hardaway was. All the faults that he sprinkled into Daffy Duck and Egghead, with Daffy dedicating an entire anthem explaining his screwiness (something Tex likely would have liked to avoid, or at least made much more subtle), are made into their own cartoon as Porky's Hare Hunt with obvious jokes and jabs about how crazy a character is acting, woohoo, yipee, nyuk nyuk!
While Clampett's joke here lends itself more to the self aware professions found in Hardaway's touch, Clampett also possesses a quality Hardaway does not: subtlety. The gag in this cartoon is funny, quick, and out of the way. Daffy doesn't make any more declarations of "Look at me!", and the line doesn't overstay its welcome. Hardaway would have lingered on it for 20 seconds more.
Of course, these directors are all their own people who have their own ideas, experiences, and interpretations. Comparing them and their interpretations is merely food for thought, as there's no true right or wrong way to twist the gag. It's funny. Simple as that. It's merely fascinating that there is enough material amassed for Daffy to make these comparisons to begin with--slowly but surely, a star is in the making.
The camera follows Daffy and his bicycle ride around the ring, the pans growing more frequent and shorter as Daffy gains speed fleeing from his foe. Eventually, he gains so much speed that he flattens his opponent... multiple times. Also worth mentioning is the pelican, who cranes his neck to observe the action. A closer look reveals his neck to be tied up in knots by the time Daffy is flattening his foe into a chicken pancake; a rather vague but rewarding detail when caught.
And then... stillness. Daffy is nowhere to be found. The music score turns from frantic, urgent, and playfully suspenseful to naively furtive, flighty, and stagnant, with gentle, flowing, subtle animation to match as the champ sneers "Where's Daffy?"
"Daffy?" The pelican blinks as though he just forgot something vitally important. "...Daffy? I don't know... where's Daffy?" The champ and pelican engage in a joint search party as they sweep their heads all through the frame, craning their necks, even peering into the audience to search for the missing waterfowl. "Who's seen Daffy?"
A logical answer. Daffy pokes his head out of the pelican's beak and gives the champ a signature nose honk before bopping him right in the face.
Hysteria is resumed as the music score picks up into an infectiously riotous rendition of "Something Tells Me". Still in the sanctity of the pelican's beak, Daffy ducks as the champ swings for his head. Instead, he wallops a punch into the pelican's gut, which sends his malleable, rubbery neck flying into the overhead lamp. The staging is clear, concise, and swift, with so much action in such a short amount of time following a wonderful flow of momentum.
With the pelican visibly dazed by the blow, Daffy uses this as an opportunity to pop out of the referee's mouth and shriek like a demented, insane cuckoo clock.
Thoroughly agitated by Daffy’s shrill, laughing taunts, the champ lunges at the poor pelican caught in the crosshairs as Daffy seeks refuge in his beak once more. Crazy characters, crazy action, crazy scenarios. Clampett certainly puts the “loony” in “Looney Tunes” with this entry.
On the topic of loony, off the wall energy with crazy characters, the absurdity grows as Daffy, still in the threshold of the pelican’s beak, breaks up the ball of violence by running inside the beak. As such, the shanghaied pelican can merely flop helplessly around the ring as a bulge and pair of legs dart around in circles. Stalling’s score is infectiously energetic, the drawings and animation are fun. Elasticity and weight, squash and stretch, as well as strong perspective are all important components to the success of the gag.
Perhaps most notable, however, is Daffy’s aside to the audience. In the midst of his scrambling, he halts in front of the camera, popping out of the pelican’s beak to utter a nearly incomprehensible if not memorable statement: “Funny bird is a pelican, his beak can hold more than his belly can!”
Back to the races with hardly a moment to spare.
Momentum only continues to rise from here. Now, the champ launches himself at the hapless pelican’s feat, pinning him to the ground. Cut to Daffy, stretching the pelican’s beak out as he whoops and shrieks while scrambling in mid-air.
Physics, of both the real and cartoon kind, retaliate as Daffy is sent slingshotting back into the pelican and the champ.
Next marks an intriguing Easter egg that, surprisingly, isn’t exclusive to this short. A handful of freeze frames during the big ball of violence reveals a caricature of Bob Clampett himself amongst others caught in the whirlwind for a split second. Though the same Easter egg appears again later in the short, Clampett would use the same tactic in another ball o’ violence scene with his Porky in Wackyland. It’s incredibly quick and very subtle, obscured by the mayhem and flurry of movement, but a wonderful little surprise that theatrical audiences certainly would have missed.
Even then, the fun doesn’t stop there. After all three birds have untangled themselves from the donnybrook, Daffy, who is sitting on his own head with a grin, slowly unfurls himself with his rubbery, long neck, maintaining eye contact with the dazed champion all the while. The champ takes notice of Daffy’s perfect condition, and can merely gawk as the mallard clicks his heels and “HOOHOO!”s off screen.
Overall, the entire scene has a tremendous sense of pacing and energy. Fast timing, engaging action. As such, the slow, almost relaxed pace of Daffy pulling himself to his feet really stands out—especially when he revs up that same momentum and zips off the screen in a flash. Movement and feeling are very strong and very successful factors in this cartoon.
Not to be outdone, the champ resorts to a few tricks up his sleeve. Or, rather, down his shorts. He summons a comically enlarged candy cane, gaining Daffy’s attention with a coy “Yoo-hoo!” and a flutter of the eyelashes. His pose is genuinely funny.
Not one to refuse the lure of gently used candy canes, Daffy takes the bait almost immediately. “Gee, t’anks, chum!” The whoop he heaves feels genuine in its force and enthusiasm. His animation is genuinely cute and appealing, incredibly small compared to the hulking chicken. “How’d ya know I like lollipops?”
As a punishment for erroneously calling a candy cane a lollipop, the champion uses it to bludgeon Daffy over the head.
How does one depict a ferocious, blood curdling, spine tingling battle full of energy and startling blows, all with a minute and a half to spare?
By going the economic approach, of course. The overlords over at the Hays office were surely pleased.
In all seriousness, the gag is incredibly amusing and high spirited. While it seems like a cheap cop-out (and did probably help to save a few Depression dollars), Clampett asserts the opposite by caricaturing the off-screen battle through blows and bludgeons bouncing off the screen itself. The words bulge, contract, shrink and expand, move sideways and upwards as the battle rages on, with only the concealed movement and furious foleys of punching to guide the audience’s imagination. A very effective and streamlined way to get to the point.
When the last punch is thrown and the sounds of smacking peter off into the distance, the audience can only prepare themselves for the gruesome reveal. Said gruesome reveal is anything but. The champ poses proudly next to an unconscious Daffy, who looks as though he decided to settle down for a nice, relaxing nap rather than get the consciousness beat out of him.
Cue the fateful countdown. So far, hardly a thing has made sense in the cartoon. Everything has been off the walls, from the everyday morning routine of Porky and Daffy to the introduction of the two fighter to the fight itself. Why should the referee’s count be any different? Instead of counting down or up, he slurs a belabored, Marvin-esque drawl of “Ooooone, twoooo, oh, bugs in my shoooooe…”
Manager Porky is a much more frantic antithesis to the slow nature of the pelican. Once again helmed by Bobe Cannon, Porky darts to Daffy’s side to survey the damage. It takes him a moment to register that Daffy is fully unconscious, checking him out all over before doing a hat take that marks his fervent realization.
“Daffy!” Porky’s voice is shrill and grating, an admittedly obnoxious but charming combination when paired with the overlapping drawl of the pelican, still counting Daffy’s demise. “Eh-wake-weh-wehh-weh—open your peepers! Deh-Daffy! Deh-Daffy!”
Alas! The fated wink o’ realization. That can only mean one thing.
John Carey animates Porky’s scramble in mid-air, a reasonable facsimile to the scramble he drew of the rowdy fight-goers beforehand. In a sequence reminiscent of Frank Tashlin’s breakneck momentum and cutting, Porky is reduced to a puff of smoke as he darts out of the arena. Through hill and dale, Porky is a mere streak as he darts to his home. Our only context clues are the lights in the house turning on and back off again—Porky the streak of paint darts back out and back to the arena as a literal blur. The entire sequence takes around 14 seconds, if even that, and while we cannot see what it is Porky has retrieved or plans to do, the audience is instantly clued into his plan.
Said plan, is, of course, what else? Sweating profusely, Porky repeats his and Daffy’s morning routine from earlier, banging a pot over his head with a spoon.
And, just like this morning, results are satisfactory.
In fact, Daffy seems to be full of pent up energy, raring to go as he winds himself up and launches at a very surprised champion, shrieking and whooping with glee all the while. He propels himself straight at the champ’s chest, who is sent flying backwards.
Our pelican referee can’t seem to catch a break—more Norm McCabe animation as he narrowly avoids being turned into pelican paste, instead trapping himself in his own beak. He cautiously unearths himself from the vices of his own flesh…
…only to launch into Donald Duck-esque histrionics, cursing and garbling incomprehensibly. Clampett would later reuse the same gag and animation in Porky’s Hotel—the effect is much more potent here.
42 seconds left of the cartoon? No problem, plenty of action is left to be packed in. Daffy resorts to jumping merrily on the champion’s chest, continuing his shrill laughter as he torments his foe with only the utmost enthusiasm.
Just as soon as the champ is ready to retaliate, Daffy is one step ahead of him. Showering the champ in a flurry of kicks to the face, Daffy’s unmoving, nonchalant pose, complete with the arms behind the head, serves only as an insult to a literal injury. Popeye has spinach. Daffy has pots to the head.
Cue ball of violence number two, which features brief glimpses of faces such as Bob Clampett and even an earless Porky. Even without the added cameos, the brawl is worthy of freeze frames for the drawings alone.
Physics mean little to a rebel like Daffy, who suddenly transports across the screen and taunts his opponent with a “YOOHOO!” Despite his diminutive stature, the staging and intent of the scene read incredibly clear and maintain the flow of the frenzy with ease.
Champ retaliates with a good ol’ twist and punch of a rubbery arm, which zips past Daffy’s shoulder as he dodged with ease.
Another “YOOHOO!”, another miss…
…or so we think. Now armed with a baseball bat, Daffy turns the tables by swinging at the champion’s gloved hand.
A home run. The force of the swing causes the elastic arm to wrap the chicken in his own personal trap, the fist itself socking him right in the face and sending him falling. With contagious ecstasy, the duck rushes around all four corners of the boxing ring, shrieking and giggling and exclaiming his jubilation to the heavens. Blanc’s laughter as Daffy is genuinely infectious in this cartoon and never once sounds tired or worn.
Skidding to a halt back at the “home plate”, the referee turned umpire declares Daffy to be safe. Appeal and cuteness is plentiful as Daffy enthusiastically shakes his fists and beams at the audience.
Porky waddles onto the ring just in time to ogle at the unconscious chicken. In an incredibly antithetical nature to Daffy’s own countdown, the pelican can’t count to ten fast enough, the numbers hurling off of his tongue before declaring with a relatively subdued “You‘re out.”
With that, out pops Daffy from the pelican’s beak, his design sleek, streamlined, and an incredible contrast to his prevailing round design throughout the short thanks to Bobe Cannon’s hand. He now wields the power of the pot, giving it a heart whack over the chicken’s head.
And, in pure Daffy fashion, we iris out on the guffawing and whooping champion who is sentenced to his own hysterical ballet.
Porky & Daffy is easily one of the looniest cartoons in the Looney Tunes repertoire and proudly grants the series to live up to its name. Not only is it chaotic, but the chaos is relatively controlled, much to the cartoon's success. Bob Clampett doesn't merely throw crazy happenings at the wall to see what sticks. Even in the midst of the most hectic action, there are breaks, pauses, rests, lapses of action as the audience is given room to breathe and catch up with the action. One particularly notable example is Daffy going "missing", the champ and referee surprisingly subdued and gentle as they search for their missing opponent... only for him to appear and have everything fall to pieces.
Despite the cartoon's name, Daffy is the real star, which seems to be a common theme with the Porky and Daffy shorts. Despite all of their incredible successes together, (all of this said as a shameless super fan of both the characters and their cartoons together) watching a Porky and Daffy cartoon for Porky to shine wields meager results. I am a firm believer that they play off of each other's strengths, and that Porky is more animated in the cartoons that involve him with Daffy, but that's a discussion for another time that doesn't apply here. Daffy takes the cake in this short as the center of the action, but Porky, as always, serves as a wonderful foil for him. He's filled with his own exuberant personality, from violently jostling Daffy awake to swinging his arms and screaming that Daffy "open [his] peepers". While not the star this time around, his contributions certainly make for a much more whole cartoon.
"Energetic" would be a severely underwhelming description of the short, but this genuinely is a very energetic and spirited cartoon. There are a number of mistakes and errors, certainly. Some scenes are animated more roughly than others, there is the occasional lapse in flow between two scenes, backgrounds and layouts aren't too elaborate, some gags translate better than others, etc. Yet, in the end, it takes effort to truly scout out the downsides.
In my opinion, this is a must watch. While not the best Porky and Daffy short out there, it is certainly significant and a very, very great cartoon that is one of the better pairings of the duo. Filled with manic energy from animation, music, concepts, and even camera movements, this is certainly a feel good cartoon and a wonderful sign of things to come. A mere tip of a very loony iceberg.
Enjoy! (It's also available on HBO Max should you have it!)
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