Disclaimer: This reviews racist content and imagery. None of what is presented is endorsed nor condoned, but included for the purpose of historical and informational context. I ask that you speak up and let me know in the case I say something that is harmful, ignorant, or perpetuating, so that I can take the appropriate accountability and correct myself. Thank you.
Release Date: April 2nd, 1942
Director: Bob Clampett
Animation: Gerry Chiniquy, Virgil Ross, Bob McKimson, Rod Scribner(?)
Musical Direction: Carl Stalling
Starring: Mel Blanc (Bugs, Porky), Arthur Q. Bryan (Elmer)
(You may view the cartoon here.)
One of the many benefits of not only golden age cartoons, but the golden age of Hollywood as a whole through the '30s and '40s was to boost the morale of the public. When Depression woes were at their most suffocating, movies such as Gold Diggers of '33 proudly broadcasted the message that a prosperous future of money, eradicated breadlines and no more fearing the ever tyrannical landlord. Cartoons of the prohibition era were liberal in their depiction of animals drinking and celebrating with alcohol, a reminder of the good times and that the country couldn't remain dry forever. Dozens and dozens of films and cartoon shorts alike through the '30s present stories of the underdog making it out on top, striking it rich through a rags to riches story--even if that richness is just the overwhelming power of company and camaraderie.
Every emotion that a person could feel during such tumultuous times--fear, despair, disdain, pride, optimism, nihilism--was answered, reciprocated, reassured, and exacerbated. These movies, these cartoons, these songs and advertisements and radio programs all sought to bring reassurance of some kind, no matter the emotion nor its intensity.
And, just like every other Hollywood studio, of the film or cartoon division, Warner Bros certainly leaned heavily into this trade. Hinted at in prior reviews, Bugs Bunny, who had already been a rapid success from his shining moment in A Wild Hare and was continuously scaling the ladder of notoriety, reached his zenith with the public during the war years. Scrappy, rebellious, anarchic, but still possessing enough charisma and charm to connect with audiences, he was seen as the perfect mascot for the war--a bunny who never took no for an answer, and who ensured that his foes knew it.
That's where Any Bonds Today comes in.
The song itself has a deceptively intricate history; on May 27th, 1941, Variety reported that famed songwriter Irving Berlin, responsible for a variety of songs baked into American pop culture and history (God Bless America, White Christmas, Puttin' on the Ritz, Alexander's Ragtime Band and How Dry I Am, to name an exceptionally select few), was enlisted by the Department of War and Department of Treasury to write a patriotic song intended to rile up morale. "He has contributed 'Any Bonds Today' for Secretary Morgenthau's Defense Bond cause and 'Arms for the Love of America' for the Ordnance Department," states the article. "Both will be handled by the Government as non-profit, non-commercial ballyhoo for a defense pep-up."
"Bonds" as a song intriguingly has deeper roots than just being summoned out of thin-air for the war. Its melody is heavily derivative of the song "The Yam" (or better known as "Any Yams Today"), first sung by Ginger Rogers in the 1938 film Carefree. Berlin based Bonds off of his own Yams, which, coincidentally, has even further roots, having been based off of his 1931 "Any Love Today" that never received a recording.
Needless to say, "Bonds" was his most successful and well-known song out of the trio. Receiving an official copyright of June 16th, 1941, the song became the theme song of the National Defense Savings Program and was sung by such figures as Barry Wood (who was first to record the song), The Andrews Sisters, Gene Autry, Tommy Dorsey, and Kay Kyser.
And now, Bugs Bunny.
November 18th:
"LEON SCHLESINGER'S Cartoon creation, Bugs Bunny, appearing in 'Merrie Melodies' and 'Looney Tunes', will sing the song, 'Any Bonds Today?' in a special one-reel cartoon which the producer is readying as his Christmas donation to the government in the defense savings drive. Schlesinger volunteered to make the short subject to promote holiday sales of defense bonds, and has received acceptance of proffer from Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau, Jr. Calling a halt on all his other activities, Schlesinger has put his entire staff of 200 to work on the Technicolor graphic to insure release before Christmas. Plan is to distribute 7,500 prints to cover entire United States in one week. Vitaphone Recording Orchestra will obbligato."
December 16th:
"LEON SCHLESINGER and his staff of 200 cartoonists yesterday finished in record time Schlesinger's contribution to the Defense Savings drive, a short-reeler called 'Any Bonds Today', featuring Bugs Bunny. Special Technicolor cartoon, contributed to the government, was completed in three weeks and prints were speeded to Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau for distribution before the Christmas holidays."
There are conflicting dates as to when the short saw initial release--some say February, some say April, but sometime around the beginning quarter of the year seems correct. In spite of no director's credit (or credit of any kind, for that matter; just a "Leon Schlesinger presents BUGS BUNNY" to familiarize audiences and distributors of what kind of cartoon this was), the short was supervised by Bob Clampett. Virgil Ross, Bob McKimson and Rod Scribner all lend their animation talents, having recently been scooped up between the Avery-to-Clampett unit transition...
...plus one. Freleng unit animator Gerry Chiniquy has the honor of starting the cartoon off. Why he's here, the answer is unclear. Clampett's Nutty News would feature animation by Dick Bickenbach and Gil Turner, both Freleng unit mainstays at the time, and Porky's Pooch saw some Cal Dalton animation, who seemed to be making the transition to the McCabe unit but remained lingering in some Freleng shorts (as we just saw with The Wabbit Who Came to Supper). So, Clampett utilizing some floating Freleng unit animators isn't exactly an earth-shattering concept--just odd, especially given that Chiniquy only ever remained in Freleng's unit throughout his career at Warner's. He was to Friz Freleng as Ken Harris was to Chuck Jones.
Nevertheless, Bugs introduces himself to what could possibly be interpreted as a throwback to shorts such as A Wild Hare and even Porky's Hare Hunt. How he ends Wild Hare, he starts Bonds: playing a carrot like a fife to the tune of "The Girl I Left Behind Me". Already, the theme of patriotism is strongly broadcast through the obtuse backdrop of Spirit of '76 in the background and the chauvinistic ties to the fife and song.
Of course, it communicates a playfulness all the same; Bugs is quick to devour his makeshift fife once comfortably situated in front of the audience, Carl Stalling's orchestra launching into a peppy, bold musical interlude. As insignificant as the gesture may seem--of course he's going to eat the carrot, that's his "thing"--it is a smart, key way to disestablish any stuffy formalities. Bugs isn't going to proliferate or [formally] condescend to you as to why you should be an upstanding citizen and invest in bonds. At least, not directly. Instead, his playful entrance and quick moment of nonchalance, munching on a carrot and standing at ease before launching into his theatrical obligations give off the impression of a buddy coming over to say hi. He has something to tell you, but he's not going to make you feel confined to that impression.
Chiniquy's handiwork blends in relatively well with the remaining scenes, but is identifiable when contrasting against the other animators. Bugs' features are a little less anchored, a little less meticulous than the solidity of animators like Virgil Ross and Bob McKimson, who curtail Chiniquy's scene. Especially in some angles where he turns his head (such as the frame of him taking a bite out of his carrot), the drawings do seem to belong to that of a Freleng cartoon.
While he may not have as intimate a handle on the construction of the character as the Clampett animators (which, it should be reminded, is now considered the "A" unit--in Clampett's words, Avery's unit was seen as the best by the animators in the studios, which now means that he has that privilege--any comments seeming to disparage Chiniquy's work are not at him, but, rather, the reality of the artistic strength within Clampett's unit), the actual movement and animation itself is full of life and clarity. Fronds of the carrot move in a constant, connected arc when Bugs waggles the carrot in front of his face--coinciding with the lyrics "...an' de whiskas on his chin"--and the motions that require an extra push of energy feel they have earned the weight that is demonstrated.
A quick wink on Bugs' behalf is certainly a nice detail of personality. Mischief, charisma, again leaning into his more "leisurely" charms to reduce any stuffy formalities that come with shilling patriotism. The wink does get a bit lost in the action, with audiences focusing more on where Bugs is sliding to and why rather than how he looks doing it, but the consideration is most certainly there.
Final movements of Chiniquy's scene are politely awkward, but thankfully innocuous and quick enough where it proves harmless. Spacing of the drawings are relatively equal as he slides off the screen, constructing a slight mechanical feeling, and the posing itself doesn't hook-up with the actions before it. Bugs winds up, as though preparing to take a broad step off screen and prepare the audience for his sudden "departure"... only to slide across the screen in what communicates as a completely tangential pose. The resulting effect is a bit jittery and cluttered, but, again, is rescued through its brevity. In all, Chiniquy offers a comfortable opening to establish the tone, and Bugs feels comfortable and motivated in his acting beyond the aforementioned blips.
His brief foray off screen is not only for a change of costume, assuming the role of the "tall man wit' de high hat and de whiskas on his chin", but to streamline a change in animators. Enter Virgil Ross, who animates the most amount of footage with 29 seconds.
When analyzing his work, it certainly proves no mystery as to why; he boasts the best balance of what this short is attempting to achieve with its aesthetics--solid construction and draftsmanship that is appealing and logical, giving Bugs a realism and depth to his movements, but isn't confined to itself and is still able to move with peppy, lithe energy, never skewing too far in either direction. The manner in which Bugs tilts his head is a particularly dead giveaway to his work, as he animates a comparable scene in Bugs Bunny Gets the Boid that involves similar demands for dancing and pep. Likewise, his sense of timing and spacing in his drawings is very unique to him. There always seems to be a constant pep in his metaphorical step.
Likewise, the animator shift between Chiniquy and Ross can be viewed a bit more objectively through comparing drawings. Ross' drawings feel much more anchored, secure, and the general art style certainly fits more comfortably into Avery and Clampett's sense of art direction with big, tall eyes and organic proportions. Chiniquy's Bugs' eyes are a bit smaller and his features less anchored. In motion, the transition is deceptively seamless; a running theme throughout this entire number.
The overarching purpose of this review is to offer a broader sense of context behind this short's existence. Why this song, why this character, why Warner Bros, who animated what and why, etcetera. There isn't much in the way of character psychology or motivation to delve into--what you see is essentially what you get. Regardless, this offers an excuse as good as any to once again laud the inconceivable talents of Mel Blanc, who (obviously) carries the entire performance on his back.
Many song numbers sung by Bugs Bunny are intended to be enjoyed, but annoyed by his foes in the cartoon just the same. They can be a sign of his obtrusiveness, a means to mock someone or a situation, often an aid for dismissal as he leaves the scene of a self imposed crime. Thus, that Blanc is able to maintain every shtick of Bugs, never sacrificing any of his vocal tics or mannerisms for the sake of the performance and have it sound as great as it does is astounding. Integrity of his character is preserved, as is the integrity of the song and the short's intent. A rabbit dressing up as Uncle Sam, throwing fake war bonds into the audience and gallivanting around sounds like something on paper that could be disastrously juvenile and hokey. Instead, it proves to be a romp full of energy that is sincere and motivated, both in the animation and singing alike and never leaves the audience second guessing why they are to be watching this to begin with.
At least until Bob McKimson's time to shine comes in.
In a modern context today, this is what the short is most known for: the 12 seconds in which Bugs channels Al Jolson with extremely unfortunate dedication. The shift in animators and appearance is marked through a simple drybrush twirl, the same that had peppered Ross' dance sequences throughout and, thusly, allowed its transition here to seem less unprecedented and random.
McKimson's casting choice for this scene, no matter how regrettable and speaking purely in terms of technique, was a good call from Clampett. Prior shorts such as Porky's Preview almost seem to have prepared him for this very moment, as he also animated a notorious Jolson spectacle in that short--his animation was similarly solid to a detriment, as the illusion of Porky being the one to animate him is completely destroyed through the foreshortening and solid acting on the hand. Those same quirks are found again here.
Jolson was a wildly popular figure in American entertainment. Part of this could be owed to the longevity of his career. While he would die in 1950 at the mere age of 64, he spent 53 of those years performing in some capacity. He was especially relevant to the war effort, being the first celebrity to perform at a GI base, going on countless tours and received many expressions of gratitude from soldiers for his entertainment.
Thus, as reprehensible as this scene is within today's context, it wasn't just thrown in out of absolute mindless flippancy. It certainly reads as such to those unaccustomed to Jolson's shtick or his relevancy, and the harm wrought by such stereotyping nevertheless eclipses any protests of good intentions, but there is a bit of a deeper context. By no means does that make any of the above worthy of condonation.
Bugs Bunny being such a universally beloved iconoclast plays a charitable part in this, too. Numerous cartoons have featured Jolson caricatures, caricatures of other cartoon characters imitation Jolson, characters in blackface, etcetera. Porky at the Crocadero features an entire song number of Porky and his orchestra in blackface while imitating the likes of Cab Calloway. Yet, intriguingly, those shorts never seem to reach the same outcry as segments like Any Bonds Today does. One could argue that the lack of notoriety regarding Crocadero as a cartoon is why--like most black and white Warner shorts, like most Porky shorts and even like the majority of Frank Tashlin shorts, it's not one to come up in conversation. Yet, Any Bonds Today is only known for this scene and the reason anyone even recognizes it today.
Such is the Bugs Bunny effect. Porky in blackface is equally abhorrent, any blackface pastiche of Jolson is equally abhorrent, but Bugs garners the most attention because he's Bugs Bunny. Seeing the star of the studio, a universally beloved figure, an iconoclast of animation history indulging in such egregiousness evokes a much more visceral reaction for that reason.
Bugs nevertheless drops the act once focus turns elsewhere--bringing in a few other upstanding ensemble members to really clinch the production values. The preceding close-up of Bugs is a bit awkward, but included out of necessary. It isn't a maneuver to clarify any of his acting; audiences can see him just fine. Rather, it offers a smoother transition for the sudden jump cut to Porky and Elmer standing in the back, a new backdrop demonstrating the various branches of the army at the ready. Less money, less pencil mileage and less time than having both characters walk out onto stage and having another backdrop come down.
Albeit restrained for his normal standard, this final change of animation presumably points to the likes of Rod Scribner. Porky in the background proves to be the biggest giveaway through the plethora of wrinkles in his shirt, as well as the wide, rubbery mouth. Regardless of who exactly is responsible for the animation, it remains charming, upbeat, and fits comfortably into the general flow of the cartoon. Solid, smooth motion, clear actions, and strong synchronization between characters.
Porky and Elmer thereby assist Bugs in the final moments of the cartoon, urging viewers one last time to succumb to their nationalistic impulses and indulge in defense. Those wishing to nitpick will note that Porky's voice is not only unsped, but not included in the ensemble when Bugs and Elmer (and Porky's animation) sing a last chorus. The stakes of the short's context are low-to-nonexistent enough to warrant a pass on this, and the unionization of Bugs and Elmer's singing is enough to infer that Porky is in there somewhere. All that matters is that Bugs is at the forefront and that the message is clear.
And, if it still isn't, a card reaffirming the urge to buy war bonds envelops the entire screen so audiences know what they look like and why they should bother.
Beyond the obviously regrettable, Bonds is a fascinating little cartoon and certainly proves to be a time capsule in more ways than one. If anything, it certainly is an indication of Bugs' sheer star power; not only does he get sole billing, and not only does he dominate the screen, but he's viewed as a figure of enough esteem to be tasked with the responsibility of representing the studio's general message to boost morale and patriotism.
Whether due to racism or propaganda, the short leaves behind a legacy that skews on the unfavorable side, and for reasons that certainly are not unfounded nor unjust. Regardless, for the context in which it was released, it paints a relatively positive legacy for the footing of Leon Schlesinger's cartoon studio. Bugs Bunny was a big enough name and Warner Bros. Cartoons were seen as reputable enough to shill such a message in the first place. The work put in by these artists and directors and creatives were respected enough to warrant this short's conception.
...even if that acknowledgement only amounts in a surface level understanding of "Look, it's Bugs Bunny!", as was often the case in a 1942 society who cared little for the names of the humans on-screen. If nothing else, it's certainly a start.
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