Release Date: October 31st, 1942
Series: Merrie Melodies
Director: Friz Freleng
Story: Mike Maltese
Animation: Phil Monroe
Musical Direction: Carl Stalling
Starring: Mel Blanc (Bugs, Bear), Arthur Q. Bryan (Elmer)
(You may view the cartoon here!)
The Hare-Brained Hypnotist is one of a handful of cartoons that marks a historical landmark through the utter mundane. That is, for the first time since very early 1941 with Elmer's Pet Rabbit, Elmer has returned to his comparably slim stature--and would retain it for the remainder of his lifespan.
There's so much growth with these cartoons that it almost fosters conflict. This particular short has a sharp premise, and one so ahead of its time that it was reupholstered into Hare Brush some 13 years later. Mike Maltese spares none of his love of wit or subversiveness in writing this cartoon--it's to the point where, in parts, the animation is struggling to match the same sophistication found in the story.
Of all the problems to have in a cartoon, there are certainly much worse to be had.
While Mike Maltese may have his wit at the ready with his writing, that is most certainly not true of our star hunter. In fact, this is so certainly not true that the opening moments of the cartoon make a point to insult his intelligence. Audiences are greeted through a giant book obstructing their view, but the drippingly sardonic music score of "A-Hunting We Will Go", the inclusion of this guidebook at all (calling back to shorts such as Elmer's Candid Camera and even Wabbit Twouble), hinting at an inexperience in his hunting endeavors, and the familiar, pathetic drone of his voice paint a clear portrait of our culprit.
Candid Camera displays a jolly, fanatical, overly-prepared wiwdwife photogwaphew whose extent of preparedness is amusing, but comparably practical. Especially since the exhaustiveness of his setup is really only shown in his own home. Wabbit Twouble also has him consulting a guidebook, but fleetingly and only when in immediate danger.
Here, the guide book literally takes over all of his surroundings. He's marching into nature with his entire face buried into the book, rendering him perfectly clueless to any and all of his surroundings. There's a level of inexperience that comes with reading the book "on the job" and missing out on all of the potential wild game in front of him rather than studying up at home. The stingingly ironic music score makes a notable point of this.
Phil Monroe provides our first glimpse of character animation--a great casting choice for the needs of the scene. He captures Elmer's obliviousness with a naturally cute, innocent quality, playing on the audience's innate desire to pity everyone's favorite manchild hunter. His gait is more like a waddle, and all of his equipment is much too large for him. In this moment, he looks much more like a kid playing dress-up and playing with daddy's gun instead of a middle aged man on the hunt for wild game.
With how engrossed he is in the book, viewers are naturally inclined to tense up upon the arrival of a log, expecting a collision to happen at any moment. This is surprisingly avoided. It's a nice consideration of acting; it demonstrates that he does have a slight semblance of awareness, and, in addition to the motions making him seem tiny, toddling, and dopey, it gives the background a believable depth and interactivity. A character walking and reading at the same time isn't an inherently interesting action to look at, so Monroe does a fine job of adding visual interest where he can. His innate sense of appeal in his drawings are a similarly valuable asset.
As alluded to before, Elmer contentedly reads about how rifles aren't always necessary for hunting, and that "any dumb animaw of the fowest can be easiwy subdued by means of hypnotism". The use of "dumb" is hilarious, as it shows a clear disrespect and condescension of the animals that Elmer is hunting. And, not only that, but it's a great commentary on Elmer's own smarts (or lack thereof), since he succumbs to the very contents of his book with comparative ease.
"Unbewievabwe!"
The sincerity of his aside to the audience is brilliantly timed and very Maltesian in nature. There's an oxymoronic balance of ironic earnest: his surprise seems genuine, but the moment is so obtuse in nature and comes after a long bit of purposeful monotony with him just reading and reading and reading that the actual "bit" itself is ironic in nature. Elmer's earnest is the irony. It likewise derives its humor from this sudden bout of sentience, indicating that Elmer has been aware of our presence all this time and that he's not nearly as on autopilot mode as we assumed. It's very comparable to a synonymous moment in Wise Quacks, in which a very bored looking hound dog has a similar moment of cognizance following his own participation in monotony.
Following this breathtaking revelation, Elmer immediately resumes his reading, thereby book-ending the moment in a tidy, self contained bit.
An intriguing POV shot of Elmer reading the book soon follows. Not only does this new angle enhance the visual interest of the moment, but it lends itself to a pathos for the moment. The charming visual of his head buried in this giant book enunciates the size discrepancy, playing on the pity that comes from his environments being too big for him in a literal and metaphorical way. Likewise, the intimacy of the staging and experiencing the events of the cartoon through his perspective is always effective in encouraging engagement with a character.
This is a trend of the earlier Bugs and Elmer joints--getting acquainted with Elmer's side of the story. Not that this isn't true of later shorts, but there does feel like a stronger feeling of "solidarity" with him in this era; a desire to get into his headspace, so that the subsequent abuse and taunting faced by Bugs feels more damning (and funny) because of our relationship with Elmer.
Bugs has star power at this point, but the world doesn't entirely yet revolve around him. He remains a detached, spritely enigma here who operates purely on surprise. We aren't privy to his every innermost thought of mundane routines as we shall be later. This detachment gives him a mysticism that enhances his own entertainment value, playing on the viewer's curiosity of what trick is up his sleeve next.
Another "benefit" of the POV shot here is that it makes the unseen obstacle that Elmer barrels into more intriguing. Steadily engrossed in his book, Elmer suddenly bucks forward to the camera, impact lines and a timpani sound effect carrying this idea of a blockade.
We don't see what it is immediately, as opposed to a more neutral view where that would be the case. The secrecy and intrigue through this staging compels and engages the audience. And, since it's from Elmer's point of view, him being afflicted by the impact feels greater.
One thing is for certain: it ain't Bugs Bunny.
Abstaining from Bugs being the first encounter is great restraint from Maltese and Freleng. It encourages more of a build--always a bonus in playing upon the audience's "where's the rabbit" impulse that is an innate fixture of these cartoons--and gives the short momentum. But, for the sake of our story, it's also considerate to have a control group. We already know that Elmer is going to use his newfound knowledge of hypnotism on this "dumb animal of the fowest" (a great repeat of a great line showing Elmer's unfettered trust in the book and completely oblivious to the sheer danger he's in), so the bear will be an example of what hypnosis should look like when done correctly. Bugs, as we're well aware of, seldom operates under the same assumption, so the antics that'll ensue with him will feel more self contained, independent and funny by having a means to compare.
Even when Elmer is pinned to the ground by a growling bear, he remains joyously ignorant. A well timed pause ensues between the time of the bear shoving him to the ground and Elmer recovering. Through this lapse in dialogue and momentum, viewers assume that this'll be enough of a threat to snap him to his senses and abandon the idea.
"Now's my chance to twy my psychowogicaw expewiment!"
Therein lies another benefit of the short's hook--one almost believes it was written purely for Elmer to discuss his psychowogicaw expewiment. The Maltese/Freleng team ups were sharp about which words sound funny coming out of Elmer's mouth--talks of him being a "disgwace to the wegiment" in Fresh Hare come to mind.
That's all to say that Elmer is predictably too stupid and admirably naive to give up on the idea. Monroe's naturally cute style works wonders for emphasizing Fudd's innocence and haplessness--especially in contrast to the man eating beast just waiting for his chance to maul.
Even with the bear pinning him down, Elmer takes this moment to consult his precious book. A hilarious detail on its own, but even moreso with the bear's antagonistic patience, somewhat humoring him by waiting for him to finish. None of this should be happening, much less persisting without bloodshed--and yet both remain true. That Maltese/Freleng irony and dryness in tone and the slightly demented earnest it gives off is very much felt in this moment.
A jump cut whisks us to the next scene. It's a minor cut, but in the wide shot, Elmer seems to be in the process of sitting up; in the very next cut, he's lying down and looks a bit visibly shaken. The scene cutting in the middle of him moving in the wide shot enhances the feeling of this jolt as well.
The cut to the close-up is a necessary one: all the clarity and intimacy is needed in viewing Elmer's attempts to hypnotize the bear. Highlights in the bear's eyes, the protruding lips from Elmer, and comparatively floaty motion immediately give this away as Gil Turner's animation. His animation may be less appealing than Monroe's (which is also a bit of an unfair competition, as Monroe may have had one of the cutest animation styles at the studio), but Turner could be good at loose and elastic motions--for example, the bear shaking his head after Elmer initially tries to hypnotize him.
Elmer's instant rate of success seems to be a joke in itself. He's able to hypnotize the bear with startling convenience and immediacy--through that, Freleng and Maltese poke fun at the audience for potentially doubting the effectiveness of Elmer's methods. The reveal that the hypnotism works at all is a joke in itself.
This is likewise a product of cartoon housekeeping: the short focuses on the consequences of the hypnotism rather than the how of the hypnotism. Little time is wasted getting down to business.
In spite of this convenience, there are some considerations to prevent complete and utter invincibility. For example, the bear attempting to shake off the effects at the start--doing so engages the audience more and gives the action more consequence, rather than everything being perfect at the start. There would be no conflict otherwise.
Caricature of the hypnosis through airbrushed electricity effects--likely the work of an uncredited Ace Gamer--is a great touch. It's a comparative extravagance; if they really wanted to, they could have just implied the hypnosis through a staring contest. Drawing the effects gives the audience something to track. A tangibility to see how effective or ineffective it is. Likewise, the airbrushed glow and multicoloring of the effects is obviously different from the opaque cel paint of the characters. It makes it feel like this separate, phantasmagorical property that inflates its impressiveness.
Elmer thusly orders the bear to go into a "twance" through another cut. Said cut allows more room for the bear to back away from Elmer, indicating his submissiveness and his "state" going back to the default. That is, no longer pinning his hypnotist to the ground.
A much more obvious jump cut is made to the bear's dopey, dazed expression. It occurs while Elmer is still in the middle of his sentence, much less act of hypnotizing; it feels like a bit of a separate tangent and makes for a rather abrupt flow of scenes. Thankfully, the action on-screen isn't particularly intricate, so there isn't much lost or interrupted beyond the initial confusion.
Turner indicates his penchant for rapid, elastic motions in this scene (as well as penchant for floaty, globular animation with the bear's dazed wobbling, perhaps a bit looser than intended but no less successful for it): with the effects of hypnotism now internalized, the bear shorts out like a sputtering car engine. The animation is refreshingly chaotic and a stark contrast to his aimless wobbling beforehand.
A wide cut to the bear sputtering has him ogling at the audience with wide, vacant eyes; doing so gives him an inherent sympathy as he looks directly to us for "solace". There's a certain helplessness in his confusion, as well as a lack of control that exacerbates the strength of the hypnosis. We're thusly more interested in the consequences.
The dopey smile on his face after he falls to the ground is a nice concession that he's pleasantly concussed rather than seriously injured.
"You awe compwetewy undew my contwow..."
Elmer blatantly disrupting the mood to chortle inanely at the camera couldn't be better in its timing nor placement. It's a reminder that, yes, this "menacing" dope with hypnotic powers who just fell a bear is still the bald, chortling idiot we've so come to revere. Maltese in particular seemed to have a talent for turning Elmer into a complete and utter tool. Freleng's no-frills directing and approach helps further embed the irony and humor of the situation. It's funny because of how much of an anticlimax it is.
After some laborious thought, Elmer commands the bear to become a canaway boiwd. Thus, another example of the bear serving as the control--we get to see how the process of hypnotism looks on a "dumb animal of the fowest", and that includes the consequences. Success in these moments is important, as it's not going to be something that comes along with Bugs' eventual involvement.
That, and it's also just incredibly amusing to witness this menacing, hulking beast acting like a twee little bird. His initial regard of the audience with a dazed expression is funny, as it gives the viewer more preparation time and acknowledges this subliminal beat of "something funny is about to happen". That build-up, mundane as it may be, allows for a more effective contrast in the results.
And contrast, there most certainly is. Instead of only having the bear chirp like a bird or peck at the ground, he almost immediately takes flight--and with no sweat broken. This contrast is taken to its fullest potential. The bear still retains is clumsy, giant physique and motions, his giant paws flapping with little grace, reminding us that he's under a spell. This grounding, of maintaining some of the character's original integrity--even if it's just their physique--is likewise a big part of the humor that comes from this short and its dealings of hypnotism. It complicates it just the same.
The bear flies up into the stratosphere, running with themes of limitlessness in the hypnotism. The full mile is taken. Through this demonstration, the audience is primed to get excited for what whimsically humiliating actions Bugs and/or Elmer will be subjected to coming up.
Dick Bickenbach animates a rejoicing Elmer, as noticed through the impact lines, cheek wrinkle, and focused, streamlined movement. Similar to Phil Monroe, Bickenbach is a great choice for appealing animation. This is a cute moment, and one unique to this cartoon--viewers get a crawling suspicion that such victories for Elmer won't be a constant. Displaying his excitement over his success sets up for the inevitable contrast when his methods don't work, enhancing the contrast and magnifying our sympathy. We pity the poor sap; let him have his moment, and might as well let him be cute and appealing as he does it.
So fleeting is this victory, in fact, that it's interrupted halfway through. Elmer's hopping and declaration of a miwacle is interrupted through a familiar crunch of a carrot off-screen.
Despite already being two minutes into the cartoon, Bugs' entry certainly sets a rival record for quickest entrance in a short so far. Through a confident glide over, the camera settles on a rabbit fully in position and spectating from his hole. Carrot at the ready, patronizing amusement of Elmer communicated.
Compare this to his entry in Fresh Hare, the most recent Bugs and Elmer joint behind this (and also a Maltese/Freleng joint): lots of slow, gradual pantomime and anonymity, a reticence to fully reveal himself. The slow build-up was effective for the specific context of that short, but the smashing objectivity of his intro here is rather surprising. A frankness that matches Bugs' own frankness in personality.
Further taking care of obligations, Bugs utters his beloved three-word inquiry.
There is a lot of stupidity innate to Fudd's existence. However, even he isn't stupid enough to miss this opportunity presented. Rather than annoyed, fearful, or vacantly clueless at Bugs' entry, his attitude is one of naive excitement, and then amusing nefariousness.
His concoction of a scheme ("I got 'im wight whewe I want 'im!") is directed as an aside to the audience; another way to garner sympathy through audience regard and interaction. Even though we just know this is doomed from the start, there's an innate desire from the audience to play along and see where it goes. Elmer's enthusiasm demonstrates an attachment to his endeavors--something important for when said endeavors all far apart, making us more emotionally invested in such a silly yet amusing plot.
Freleng's direction refuses to cut any corners. With the same immediacy present in Bugs' introduction, Elmer rushes over: as the camera makes a cut back to Phil Monroe's animation, Elmer is already hypnotizing Bugs. In fact, the electricity effects are there on the very first frame--even when Elmer himself is still launching into position via smear.
For a brief moment, Bugs seems distracted, which hooks the audience into thinking that perhaps there is some effectiveness to the hypnotism after all. He's nevertheless able to recover into steadiness and assert the opposite.
Monroe's drawings of both characters continue to thrive in their cuteness and appeal--a nice commodity for Bugs in particular when he's standing still. It's always a bonus to hold on an appealing drawing.
"Heh. Dracula."
Bugs not taking to the hypnosis is a nice concession that, yes, this was too good to be true. It makes us feel like the bear was an example of literal dumb luck; the book did emphasize dumb animals, and Bugs is (usually) exempt from such a grouping.
Elmer nevertheless persists. Maltese and Freleng do a nice job of keeping the audience on their toes with all of these bait-and-switches. There's a nice balance of events unfolding as we expected, and others going the opposite--sometimes both at once. A lot of guessing is involved, keeping the story fresh and engaging rather than routine or predictable.
A brief moment where Bugs attempts to return the serve functions as a precursor of what's to come later.
Emphasis on later, for as of right now, the hypnosis miraculously seems to be working. Another bait and switch on a bait and switch, bolstering the aforementioned lack of predictability. Like the bear briefly shaking the hypnosis off, Bugs standing ground for a few moments makes us more interested in how all of this will actually unfold. Resistance makes the interaction feel more grounded, inflating the stakes within the conflict and investing the audience as a result through the aforementioned avoidance of predictability.
Elmer continues the "you awe getting sweepy... sweepy..." bit with Bugs in his endeavors to hypnotize. However, in contrast to his dynamic with the bear, Freleng's directorial tone seems to poke fun at him. His hypnotic endeavors may be successful, but not at the expense of looking ridiculous, bending so low into Bugs' hole and pursuing him to an amusingly persistent degree. It feels like an arbitrary exertion of effort... but Elmer doesn't come by such victories often, so we'll let the poor sap have his fun.
Having him duck so low provides a litany of benefits. There's the comedic benefit of the vocal distortion that comes with it, his voice echoing in the hole and showing both how deep inside he is and the tangibility of the environments--the backgrounds are something interactive, a lived environment rather than a mere setpiece.
But its biggest purpose is to offer a segue to the next bit of comedic business. Elmer slowly begins to draw Bugs back out...
...in balloon form.
This gag is a great indication of the era. Bugs fools the audience just as much as Elmer has been fooled--again, not that this is exclusive to this era of shorts, but there's a detachment and separation from the audience that makes this gag possible. Had this short been made ten years later, the camera likely would have cut to Bugs in his hole setting up the balloon. Our sympathies lie with Elmer at this point as we share his perspective. Thus, Bugs' trickery comes as a greater surprise and is more engaging.
More amusing than the switch-up is the extremely belabored reaction time on Elmer's behalf. Even in spite of floating into the air with it, Elmer remains utterly clueless, still echoing his flimsy hypnotic spells. Freleng's objective, dry directing really works to the benefit of the gag here. Elmer telling a balloon that it's "asweep and hewpwess" is funny on its own, but doubly so when he's fifty feet in the air with it and, really, is the hewpwess one instead.
It takes outside forces, such as our canary bear, for him to grasp the situation. A great callback that gives the short a stronger sense of cohesion through this continuity--that, and it's simply funny to think that the bear has been flying along in his trance all this time. Moreover, it's a pretty keen marker of height, giving an indication of just how far away from the ground Elmer is.
Thus, Wile E. physics prevail--as soon as a lack of ground is perceived, the hapless victim is destined to be reunited with it immediately after.
Surprisingly, Bugs is quick to spring to action. While the draftsmanship of this entire scene is on the looser side, the movement is incredibly nice--urgent, energetic, and elastic for the demands of the scene. The gentle stretch and looseness of Bugs' legs as he does a scramble is particularly welcome. Especially with the elongation of his foot in the last few frames before making his exit, the general elasticity of the scene seemingly point to Gerry Chiniquy's animation; the style and movement seems to match some synonymous moments he animated in Fresh Hare.
This, too, is another instance of Bugs Bunny detachment. For a split second, we're deluded into thinking that Bugs actually wants to do good and save him, running out with a basket and reassuring Elmer that he'll catch him. We've become acquainted enough with Bugs at this point to know that this is too good to be true, but there's a commitment to the bit that is entirely independent. This definitely seems like a moment where he would've mugged the camera with a wink or knowing expression before launching into his "keep ya shoit on, doc" routine later on.
To his credit, the obvious punchline that we're half expecting isn't breached. It isn't that he yanks the basket away at the last second, as he does in Bugs Bunny Rides Again--a Freleng Bugs opus. Rather, Elmer comes in too hot.
Great execution through its dryness and objectivity native to Freleng's directing style. There's no fluff to the impact: the cel of Bugs and his basket remains rigidly in place, with the representative drybrush streak of Elmer smoothly passing through. Because of its "plainness", the impact seems much harsher and more violent. Very simple but bold and again, objective execution that gets a laugh through its bluntness.
The innocent eye blinks and analyzation of the torn basket from Bugs are good considerations. Technically, he is innocent in this scenario, as far as attempting to catch Elmer goes, but his coy acting still conveys a telltale, gregarious disingenuousness. Though he says nothing, there's a unanimous feeling of "oops" conveyed.
His vocalized sentiments are a bit more clearly ironic with a "Bottoms up, doc!"
Good restraint on not having Elmer be completely maimed to pieces, either. It'd be an easy compulsion to show a dazed and brusied Elmer, particularly in a modern production made today--but that'd lose the blunt edge of the humor, and, really, lose the humor in general. Elmer's a pathetic sap and a character who we don't want to see get brutalized too physically, as it just reads as unpleasant rather than funny. His realization and fall is enough to cover the humor of the scene, as well as Bugs' reaction. Having him come out of the hole glaring daggers at Bugs enables a swift transition of ideas in the story--we're ready to go to the next point.
Bugs gives the kith of death following his synonymously coy quip, as mentioned above.
Running with the emasculation further, Bug vogues another pose before his exit: to dart right then and there wouldn't be enough of a performance. He has to linger in Elmer's subconscious as the pest he is, making himself an inescapable figure--a feat accomplished by hanging around for a moment or two longer.
Moments like these are tried and true Bugs and Elmerisms. We're glaring the formula right in the face. It's easy to take for granted, but do remember just how early we are in their lifespan. There's a real feeling of routine and comfortability in figuring out that routine. Especially since it'll soon be challenged. The normalcy here is, in a way, abnormal, and warrants praise.
Excellence in smearing and distortion continues. Nice, elastic energy that supports Bugs' impish litheness, and it also offers a solid contrast to the steely, stolid Elmer.
Reacquainted gun access nevertheless proves a good motivator to speed things up.
Intriguingly, this coming section of the cartoon mirrors--or, really, enhances--many aspects of A Wild Hare. This was a bit of a running concept in the Maltese shorts subverting the formula by emulating it: the emulation of the formula is another "control" group, demonstrating what normalcy should look like, so that the inevitable inversion is stronger against a means of comparison. Oddly enough, there's a quaint anarchy in repeating tried and true routines verbatim with an enhanced context, so to speak. Rabbit Seasoning's expository interactions with Bugs and Elmer are the perfect example of this. What's old is made new again, and there's a certain coyness inherent to it.
Wild Hare is only two years old as opposed to twelve, so that coy knowingness isn't AS present here. The execution here is a pretty by the books reprise of familiar gags birthed in that first cartoon: Bugs' spinning hole exit, Elmer's hole-bound tug-o-war with the gun, the prevalence of pantomime.
Yet, unlike A Wild Hare, all of these gags occur with three times the speed and deftness. There is a slight ironic twinge, a feeling of business as usual--there's something more to all this. Perhaps that's just a commentary on how quickly these gags and events unfold; the back and forth of the gun in particular is extremely snappy. The rewards only grow in seeing how these cartoons get more abrasive, and that abrasiveness becoming the standard.
The tug-o-war is executed with a feeling of caricature. Freleng and Maltese seem aware that it's not the back and forth that's the focus (as it was in A Wild Hare, where the main idea was the novelty of this sentient rabbit fighting back). Rather, it's the ability to take this routine to its furthest extent that's the point. Abstraction is the point.
Both characters jutting their full bodies in and out of the hole make a case for such.
Ditto with them switching places.
Absolutely seamless execution. A purposeful monotony shrouds the scene--not to a degree of boredom, but assurance in the pattern. Thus, the audience is drawn into this pattern of tugging, and so the sudden reveal of Bugs in Elmer's place with no fanfare or acknowledgement at all is shocking, funny, and engaging. Stalling's "Mickey Mousing", with no other musical backing, likewise shoves full focus onto the action and rhythm, further cementing the viewer's engagement.
This routine reaches its zenith when both parties tug on the gun together. Yet again, the rule of three's persists: first Elmer is visible, then Bugs, then the both of them together. Following this rhythm makes a seemingly random gag into one that is calculated: this organization offers momentum and escalation to the sequence. An idea that this is going somewhere--even if the purposeful monotony suggests otherwise.
One would logically expect this to be where the repetitiveness of the sequence halts, with no parties left in the hole to tug.
But that just wouldn't be fun. This could be viewed as a precursor to the gag seen in shorts such as A Star is Bored and its ilk, in which a gun shoved down one hole protrudes out of another, adjacent hole. Certainly a Freleng favorite.
Freleng runs with this back and forth for just a bit more before realization settles: perhaps this is the only time where Elmer recognizes the reality of the situation before Bugs does.
Execution of this moment is perfect. After a vacant beat of realization, Elmer stares at Bugs, who remains in his struggle against the gun. No acknowledgment from him of any kind that anything is off kilter.
This is not true of Elmer, who then directs a vacant, quizzical and amusingly sympathetic gawk at the audience, as if they hold the answers he lacks. A move of utter sympathy and humanity. We can feel his brain working overtime to comprehend. He almost seems upset by this--especially considering Bugs shows no sign of breaking. It's a great moment of vulnerability--moreso than what's already inherent to Elmer's character--and one that emphasizes how much of a pathetic sap he is. All communicated with a helpless glance.
All of this haplessness and helplessness culminates in a delightful grimace, the same expression a toddler may make before launching into a meltdown... which is exactly what happens here. This, too, is another apt parallel to A Wild Hare and the like.
Hare's context of the breakdown is certainly funny, but played with a comparative melodrama in the name of comedy. Here, it's all comedy, in spite of how much we are intended to pity Elmer. His sobbing feels more exaggerated, the circumstances more asinine, and Bugs' consoling coos ("Whatsamattuh, doc? Did I hoit ya feelin's?") is about three times more condescending than it ever was in Hare.
Elmer is a tool, but still likable enough (or, perhaps pitisome) figure that seeing him genuinely upset can come off as disconcerting rather than truly funny to the audience. The buildup of this meltdown and the absurdity of the circumstances are major boosts in ensuring this is funny rather than uncomfortable.
Patronizing commentary from Bugs certainly proves helpful as well. He almost seems impatient, as if Elmer isn't appreciating his exploits enough, or that he has the audacity to make such a shameless display and waste Bugs' time to begin with. Bugs' remark of "Pitiful case," is certainly telling in how he views him.
Gil Turner animates Bugs and Elmer at the tree, noticeable through Bugs' pointed head, prominent jowls, and persistent airiness in the movement. The animation somewhat suffers from its lack of anchoring typical in Turner's scenes--this is most noticeable through Bugs' "Ohhh, is dat what'cha tryin'a do!" after Elmer pitifully fesses up his plan ("How am I supposed to hypnotize you if you don't cowopewate?", a distinctly Maltesian line in its innocent frankness). Regardless, this scene is pretty low stakes, with the dialogue more of a focus than the character acting, beyond selling Elmer's pitifulness--any subjective nitpicks in the animation are excusable.
Stalling's score of "I'll Pray for You"--its first usage in a Warner cartoon, used periodically at this time--throughout this exchange is coy yet cozy. It's evocative of pathos, but in a "kid broke dad's window with a baseball" way rather than a more sincere commentary or melodrama.
Ever the sport, Bugs offers to cowopewate. The bluntness of this transition in tone is very amusing, as the mood instantly turns back into some illusion of foreboding and threat, matching Elmer's renewed determination. All of this crying, and the solution was this easy all the time. Likewise, Bugs' willingness to cooperate feels born entirely out of patronization. Cooperating will result in more chances for Elmer to make a fool of himself, which is priceless in its entertainment value. We get the feeling that he doesn't believe any sort of productivity will be born out of this.
Thus, when real sparks begin to fly, Bugs seems momentarily caught off guard, recoiling and shaking his head. He really shouldn't be, considering they'd already done this opportunity once before.
Then again, it serves as a better segue into Bugs' retaliation, returning the serve right back to Elmer. Thus sparks--heh--a literal back and forth of hypnotism. It's unexpected and nonsensical, a pure demonstration of Bugs' contrarianism who suddenly acts as if he doesn't want to commit to this after all.
Him being able to hypnotize Elmer so easily, with no knowledge of the book and its methods, is a very funny cheat. Nonsensical, but that's the joy of it--and very fitting of Bugs' enigmatic tendencies of the period. More sympathy is likewise given to Elmer this way, magnifying any justifiable confusion on his end.
However, he doesn't entirely have the luxury to even be confused: the camera cuts straight to his dazed, hypnotized expression. This is executed pretty clumsily, just like the cut to the same shot with the bear: in the wide shot, he's seen stumbling backwards before the scene cutting directly to his decidedly immobile reactions. Not very graceful, but inconsequential.
Repurposing the exact same animation as was on the bear during his own daze is a smart way to induce further continuity in the cartoon. It gives the short a feeling of cohesion and security by calling upon past events. Not only that, but it offers a reference for the state of Elmer's hypnosis and signifying its effectiveness, considering we have a means of comparison--since we know how the bear's routine played out before, we can comfortably affirm that Elmer is down for the count.
All of the same observations apply to the animation of him shorting out: same wide-eyed, helpless, vacant stare, same car sputtering sound effects, same violent convulsions.
Same dopey smile, too.
Dick Bickenbach resumes animation duties with Bugs' inspection, noticeably through the solidity and limberness in both characters. Yet again, he proves a smart casting choice; initially, this scene is pretty monotonous, as Bugs pondering how to "teach dis joik a lesson" involves a lot of thinking, standing around, and ponderous stagnation. A necessary stagnation to build up to the inevitable slew of gags. Regardless, it's always a benefit to have solid drawings to look at in such a calm moment, where draftsmanship is a bit more noticeable.
Of course, appealing draftsmanship isn't the only source of appeal in the scene. Bickenbach had a sharp handling on timing his drawings, which is noticeable in this scene. As Bugs is mulling over what to do, Elmer slowly begins to rise up with a dazed expression. The drawings are spaced close together and evenly, conveying a crawling, slow consciousness...
...which is in contrast to Bugs' near immediate rebuttal. He has a small beat of surprise to give the moment some vulnerability, embracing that Elmer's creeping consciousness wasn't expected--a spark of a beam takes care of that. Given that the beam is animated on a cel and much more wiggly and ropelike, compared to the hairy, airbrushed sparks from before, it seems like Bickenbach animated the effects here himself.
This moment is well executed through how funny it is, but also because of its organicism; it's another way to show the little holes and flaws in the hypnosis process, eliminating any invincibility and inherently inflating interest. It follows the same logic of the bear or Bugs shaking off the effects of the hypnotism in their initial attempts to resist.
After some deliberation, Bugs reaches his verdict on how to toy with Elmer. This is yet another moment that feels like it would be more intimate in later years, with Bugs potentially telling the audience what he's going to do (even if it's something like "Watch me fix him", as opposed to the ambiguously independent "I got it!" here). Instead, the audience finds out his plan only when he gives it, so that the audience can be properly surprised and entertained by the results.
"I command you to be... a rabbit!"
Another benefit to Bickenbach's casting is how he handles Elmer's transformation. It's admittedly pretty simple and straightforward: Elmer sits up, turns his head to regard the camera,
and transforms into a hideous beast.
This routine is so stupidly simple--no sputtering engines or notable distortions, but a very calm and matter of fact change. Confidence in Bick's animation is certainly felt, however, and does make a difference in this moment that is reliant on its bluntness and simplicity. There are no puffs of smoke or effects to obscure any fudged details. Not that that's a concern here.
Elmer's glance at the camera before the metamorphosis serves as another control, offering the audience a glimpse of what he looks like before and then immediately after. Thus, the reveal hits harder through such a direct comparison. His blinks after the transformation indicate that he is alive and thinking--well, as much as a Fudd has the capacity to think--and is more than just a prop. A sign that Frankenbunny's experiment is a success, a living and breathing amalgamation.
For as amusing and amazing as the visual is, Elmer nevertheless reverts to his normal state physically; seeing him behave as this hideous being would be a bit distracting from the real intent of the story. The visual gag is merely a checkpoint, a way to indicate the success of the experiment.
All rabbits are synonymous with Bugs Bunny in the world of Warner cartoons. So, Bugs' own hypnosis backfires on him when Elmer's next course of action is to engage in some Bugs Bunny-isms himself, launching into the cartoon's next piece of conflict.
The kissing and hopping around on all fours and twirling exits are already synonymous enough with Bugs' behaviors to communicate his likeness--an impressive feat, yet again considering Bugs has existed in his final form for all of two years. Warner shorts have no continuity, but there most certainly is a continuous awareness in Bugs' behaviors and how they can be slyly called back upon for a joke, especially for the benefits of meta humor.
Stalling's rambunctious score of "Hey Doc" reaches its climax as Elmer hops around in circles, having left his mark on an irate Bugs. Restraint on Fudd's dialogue is a welcome touch, because for the purposes of build-up, he's still behaving as a bit of a hybrid of Bugs and a feral rabbit. For him to immediately adopt Bugs' mannerisms right away, including voice and carrot chomping, would be to rush through. Much of the reward out of this entire scenario is seeing where it goes and how. The journey is just as important as the destination.
Physically, Elmer's twirling doesn't make much sense; the camera spends a gradual time panning over, with Elmer sort of flying through the air rather than actually propelling himself into the hole. It feels very mechanical and lacks the spritely spontaneity in Bugs' instance. Yet, that in itself is the point--drawing this routine out shows how synthetic this maneuver is for someone like Elmer. This feels odd because it is odd. A familiar routine bastardized by a baldy.
The main divergence from the influence of A Wild Hare is Bugs' reaction. Gone is the unflappability that drew audiences to him to begin with; his first instinct is to berate Elmer, which immediately paints him as a sore, vulnerable loser whose own scheme has surprisingly escaped him. Seeing a more thin-skinned Bugs is always a great novelty, but especially this early on and with Freleng's Bugs. In a society predating Tortoise Wins by a Hare, the only real sore loser Bugs short preceding this was Tortoise Beats Hare.
Bugs' meltdown here doesn't reach the levels of Wins or even certain aspects of Beats, but it's certainly surprising to see him react this poorly. Especially considering he has nobody to blame but himself. Freleng's Bugs has a wily, rough-and-tumble edge to him that'll continue to grow more pronounced throughout the mid '40s; his reactions here are a welcome taste of what's to come.
Perhaps surprisingly, his reactions don't feel entirely out of character, either. Surprising, yes, but a bit innate to the premise. Bugs' own scheme has slipped out of his fingers for a change, and he feels threatened by that. For him to be duped--and by his own behaviors--is a massive attack on his ego. Especially with Elmer as the perpetrator... and especially an Elmer who is currently roleplaying as a rabbit. Humiliating doesn't begin to cover it.
"Who's da comedian in dis pit'cher anyway?" sums up the aforementioned observations quite aptly. Bugs' role is threatened in multiple ways, through multiple dimensions.
This is where the comparisons to Freleng's Hare Brush come into play: Bugs, springing into action with a rifle, effectively adopts Elmer's role as "revenge". Interestingly, unlike the aforementioned cartoon, he doesn't go the full monty in adhering to Elmer's mannerisms. (Elmer has never threatened to fill someone full of lead, for one.) Bugs can't even set aside his own ego enough to fully commit to roleplaying someone he's not. He's much more driven to one-up him rather than actually prove any sort of point or even performance.
Embracing this switcharoo, the tug-o-war a la hunting rifle is repeated, with Bugs in the hapless role instead. Even the staging is a direct inverse; a great parallel that bluntly demonstrates how the tables have turned through a direct reprise. Calling upon this continuity gives it a greater tangibility and air of consequence.
Seeing as we've been through this tugging routine before, its reprisal here is more about the general idea rather than the details. The back and forth doesn't go on for nearly as long. Instead, the camera finds itself drifting to other matters.
Enter other matters.
Now, he's fully committed himself to his Bugs Bunny-isms. The trademark spinning exit is decidedly Bugs-y, and the carrot in his hand certainly requires no lengthy introduction. It truly is remarkable that all of these cliches are cliches so early in Bugs' lifespan--there's no ambiguity or confusion in who Elmer is roleplaying as.
And because they're cliches, their purpose stems moreso from identification rather than properly going through each and every one. There is no laborious pause as Elmer chomps on a carrot, no lingering on him in the hole, etcetera. Instead, he marches out of the hole almost immediately--like Bugs in the throes of his "revenge", everything here is all about proving a point. We don't need to belabor how Elmer is Bugs Bunny. Just that he is.
Elmer does eventually go through the checklist of everyone's beloved Bugs archetypes: carrot chomp, pause, utterance of "What's up, doc?", but with that aforementioned air of routine and familiarity. Dick Bickenbach's animation continues to appeal and charm, whether it be the appealing draftsmanship on Elmer or the tangible tugging and movement on Bugs' comparatively helpless movements.
"Dere's a guy down 'ere who t'inks he's a rebbit," is Bugs' assessment of the situation. He retains his usual vocal register, whereas Elmer's voice is slightly more nasal and shrill, again cleverly demonstrating how committed each character is to their respective role and why.
Keen eyes will note that the rifle no longer has another pair of hands attached to the end, pulling Bugs down, once Elmer steps into the picture. A clever way to mask the impossibility of the scenario (within reason, as the impossibility is largely the point) and accommodating Elmer's change in positions. It's a nice little consideration of the very convoluted and fractured continuity within the scene.
Even without the kiss of death, Bugs looks plenty furious to have his own game turned right back into his face. This is yet another intriguing means of comparison to Hare Brush, comparing how Bugs reacts psychologically to his game turned against him. Hare Brush is amusing in that both characters are extremely loyal to their roles--Bugs is clearly Elmer, and Elmer is clearly Bugs. However, as a consequence, they seem to play at each other rather than off of or to. It boils down to the "basic" hook of "what if the roles were reversed".
Hypnotist's situation is much more convoluted, as per Maltesian tradition. Bugs is still Bugs here, even if he's pretending to be some loose approximation of Elmer or some other hunter. Bugs thusly reacts as Bugs here. He's not doing a great job of sticking to his "role"--the reasons for adopting this "role" in the first place are comparatively unclear beyond a case of a fractured ego. Then again, with Bugs, and especially of this era, that's as clear a reason as any.
"Now cutitout ya wiseguy, or ya gonna get hoit!"
Bugs vaguely threatening physical violence is another very unique marker of the era. It's certainly difficult to imagine a Bugs even ten years later suggesting fisticuffs--at the very least, if any violence was necessary, he would do it calmly and without proclamation. The Bugs of Hypnotist seems ready for a bar fight.
Two kisses from Elmer trumps Bugs' one from earlier, thereby making him the more emasculated one than Elmer. Another arrow to the knee of ego.
Through a scramble and a salute, the chase is thereby inducted.
...somewhat. This "chase" is contained solely to this single layout: Elmer rushes in, pauses, gears up, leaves. Bugs rushes in, pauses, gears up, leaves. The same is repeated in the opposite direction. Timing and motion are both purposefully wooden, methodical, and monotonous, with the end goal of luring the audience into the juvenile monotony of the entire situation.
Doing so makes Bugs' entry as he cuts Elmer off much more surprising. There are only two key poses--the first of him rushing in, and then the second of him cutting him off, which melts into a laden settle. Drybrushing plays a big part in communicating the illusion of Bugs' movement; very nicely handled, even if some of the drawings on Bugs' settle are a bit ugly.
A cut is made to a wide shot of the forest, indicating that there are many more openings available than both Bugs and Elmer may think. Bugs relies on the reality that Elmer would be too stupid to notice--and perhaps in every other circumstance, that would be true.
The eight-way dust cloud that ensues is a great touch. Audience sympathies skew towards Bugs in this instance as, like Bugs, we are just as puzzled as to where Elmer went and how; one frame his cel is there, the next it's gone, with any of the dust directions being a clue. Elmer truly possesses the enigmatic, phantasmagorical flair that Bugs has so come to rely on as a defense mechanism. Somehow, the usual lack of logic that comes with Bugs' existence is damning and odd when in Elmer's care.
Intriguingly, the scene fades to black, leaving Bugs stranded in his own ponderous confusion. With the way this scene cuts off, it almost feels as though there should be an added topper--perhaps a bigger reaction of indignance or even shock from Bugs, accompanied by an additional music sting. Right now, the scene lacks a truly concrete sense of finality, or could benefit from being tightened up. Regardless, it's a cute moment and suggests a very rare powerlessness on Bugs' behalf. How often does a scene fade to black with an effectively helpless Bugs?
Bugs is just as acutely aware of the peculiarity in this dynamic as we are, if not even moreso: the next scene fades in on a suspiciously guarded rabbit. His mannerisms are apprehensive, defensive, wired, the tone of direction furtive and strained. Especially with him checking to see if the coast is clear, his behavior here is far removed from the confidence that's often so inherent to his being.
Likewise, Elmer playing the part of the impish trickster is a similarly enigmatic. The painted overlay of the bush is not only to fill up the composition or offer the illusion of depth, but to conceal Elmer's entrance as he sneaks up behind Bugs.
To a very literal degree: he adheres to his every movement. The mood of the scene remains in Bugs' favor, maintaining an air of tenseness and suspicion rather than favoring the playful asininity of Elmer's actions. Some nice synchronicity on the motion and drawings alike--Elmer is drawn a bit taller in this scene to more effectively fit to Bugs' silhouette, reducing the clutter of the drawings and effectively communicating the two as a single unit.
As they tinker along, the camera eventually outpaces the two of them--this feeling of leaving Bugs behind as a straggler, no matter how subconscious, could also be regarded as a concession of powerlessness on his behalf. Not even the cinematography can remain on his level.
Of course, this is moreso due to staging needs: Elmer gleefully titters to the audience, with Bugs abandoning ship shortly after. It is now Elmer who is the stranded one, offering a glimpse of "old times" with Bugs back on top, or at the very least aware that he needs to keep his guard up.
Focus and sympathy is briefly bestowed back unto Elmer, who shows obvious surprise at having been abandoned. As seemingly innocuous as this scene is, it comes as a refreshing moment of vulnerability. It reinforces the general hook of this short: really, Elmer is just roleplaying. The physical embodiment of Bugs hasn't truly gripped him. Maltese slips in those little layers of grounded reality to keep the inverted dynamics interesting and convoluted.
A recovery is nevertheless made, as Bugs maintains his suspicious act. The lack of clarity in regards to what the characters are exactly thinking here is nice--we don't truly know what's going through Bugs' head, or even the full extent of Elmer's. We are in their mercy and hooked into seeing more. Any sort of commentary or explanation or propulsion of action.
All of the above are found in a memorable Gil Turner scene as Bugs monologues to the audience. Turner's draftsmanship and motion, as it tends to be, is loose and floaty; Bugs only looks tangentially like himself, and certain parts of Elmer behind him seem formless and without anchorage. This sequence may be the best example of the story and characters being too advanced for the animation.
Even so, Bugs having three different carrots shoved into his mouth as he's monologuing is nothing to scoff at. There's a lot of action to juggle, and a lot of nuances in the timing and distribution to consider. Objectively, it's a very impressive scene, and well handled in the aforementioned distribution with so much to track. It's such an impressive scene that it just feels like it needs a tighter skin and sheen around it to achieve its full potential.
"Can ya imagine 'at guy tryin' ta outwit me?"
As soon as he begins his piece, Elmer shoves another carrot into the maw of the beast. It's consumed obligingly and without second thought. Messy, disgusting carrot spittle as he talks and chews is always a welcome and entertaining touch. Helpful in reducing what dwindling authority he has, making him look like a bigger, uncouth fool than is already possible within the current circumstances. This, too, seems to be very of-its-era with Bugs' open mouthed carrot dribbling making him seem bullheaded and boorish.
Elmer introduces another carrot as Bugs muses about his "slippin'". To further escalate this, both carrots are shoved into his mouth at the same time.
Bugs begins to catch on, but only when he literally begins to choke on his own words. Blanc's performance is tops, as always--it genuinely sounds as if he's stuffing his face here. He's given a bogus story about how he was allergic to carrots and had to fake it, but truthfully just didn't like them; it's been reported that he'd have a wastebasket to spit the carrots into when he was done with the lines. In later years, it sounds as if he'd merely just click his teeth and imitate the chewing. The commitment to the bit here and authenticity in stuffing his face is entertaining and necessary for the gag.
All three carrots go in at once for the big finish in adherence to the rule of three's.
Bugs' attention is nabbed at the peculiarity of the situation, though rather gradual. When realization hits, it does hit in a big way: have we ever seen him willingly spit out his beloved beta-carotene before? It's as though he believes the carrots to be tainted, a physical concession that he's been duped into accepting offers from those he perceives as lesser life forms.
Turner's mushiness in animation does get a bit in the way of Bugs and Elmer's subsequent exit; not to a degree of major hindrance, but a moment that feels like it should be more focused and funneled in energy than is the case.
Nevertheless, that's supplemented through a cut to the following scene. From the animation--such as Elmer directing his energy from leaning back to leaning forwards, switching his weight and conveying a greater feeling of leading--to the climax in Stalling's score, the scene has an excitable, tangible acceleration to it. In many ways, this feels like "the big one". Some sort of confrontation is inevitable.
Just the same, there's a real novelty and amusement in watching Elmer move so limberly, skidding to a stop and diving into the hole--a very far contrast to his usual, slow bumbling ways. Such little details that seem innocuous on the surface, but really bring the commitment and convolution of the story together.
We're nearing the six and a half minute mark of a seven minute cartoon. A lot of back and forth has been established in that time, and a lot of hemming and hawing just the same. Bugs pursuing Elmer into the hole indicates a finality, that some manner of business is to come out of this confrontation. Even if those actions arrive with a joyously juvenile slide whistle with each jump, calling attention to the childishness of the entire affair and reaping the benefit of giving the actions some physical permanence.
His overcorrection of nonchalance is an inspired acting choice that supports the above observations. Pretending like he wasn't threatening violence, attempting to rationalize with himself, or losing control of the situation in anyway. Blanc's deliveries sound a bit odd here, doing a drawling voice for Bugs that just sounds the slightest bit analogous from his usual default--maybe a bit more street smart and rowdy than his norm. Then again, we do get the idea that he's putting on a front and overcorrecting the ego he lost, so the shift is fitting.
Another telltale indication of Bickenbach's presence: the inexplicably toothless expression as Bugs checks his equally inexplicable watch. Bick had a tendency to excise Bugs' tooth in the early cartoons--the expression he makes as he regards the watch is charming, so it's of no huge personal consequence, but it is a bit odd when his other expressions in the same scene do have the tooth. The animated do's and don'ts of the character were still being explored.
"Ooh! I'm ovadue at de aihpoht!"
Bugs makes good on his tardiness through a deliciously stupid end gag. He hops out of his hole, only for the scene to cut to him flying in the air with joyous nonchalance.
These two scenes could be connected a bit more smoothly. Perhaps a longer pause between cuts, or having him physically fly into frame--as it stands now, the transition is a bit jarring. Even so, the surprise aspect is the point, and the abruptness of the cut almost seems to get a bigger laugh through how unexpected this gag is.
"I'm da B-19!" is a great topper (though a missed opportunity for a "hareplane" pun). Era appropriate for the war-time, as the Douglas XB-19 was the largest bomber plane in the Air Force, having had its first flight the previous year. It's also funny because of Bugs' chipperness to state the "obvious". There's an innocence to the inanity of his acting here that feels unlike him, fitting in with this reveal that he has indeed been hypnotized. He's been hypnotized, but still maintains enough of his integrity and ego to be recognizably Bugs... even if that's all in the name of a bait and switch.
And, to top it all off, Bugs careens into the distance, Treg Brown's jet sound effects dutifully whirring to take the gag to its furthest level. Not only is he a hareplane, but a functional one at that with jet noises and all. Demonstrating that he functions as a real plane and is able to fly and dip and careen, rather than serving purely as a set-piece, really indicates a refreshing dedication to the bit. A stupid one, but enjoyably so.
Thus feels like the motto of the cartoon. A nonsensical, proudly asinine romp who is made through its dedication to asininity. It really is shocking that this short is so early in Bugs' lifespan, considering there's so much in it that feels figured out. Beyond the drawings and certain landmarks of the era--like the music choices and wartime reference--you'd be hard pressed to think that this was made only two years after the first true Bugs and Elmer short.
This short is shrouded in confidence. There's no lugubrious set-up of Elmer learning hypnosis--we launch straight into the action. Bugs doesn't need a crash course on hypnosis for his own refutations. The gags that lead up to Bugs' introduction, such as the bear, serve both to amuse and hint towards the patterns prevalent in the cartoon. Using the bear as a control group eliminates a lot of the fat upon Elmer's gradual encounter with Bugs, which allotts more time for us to enjoy the prime goods (that is, the inevitable amusement of the typical Bugs and Elmer banter).
Another aspect of this short's perceived timelessness is the formulaic dissolution of formula so beloved by Maltese's stories. Mike Maltese adored his chase and hierarchy subversions, and this is a trait that would continue throughout his entire tenure at Warner's. This short is an obvious inverse of the Bugs and Elmer dynamic, but is so much more than that--unlike Hare Brush, this short preserves the base identities of Bugs and Elmer beneath their farces, making for a very layered product that, particularly in the case of Bugs, elicits a lot of comedy through such a dissonance.
It's convoluted, but not to the degree that it's difficult or taxing to digest. This is the benefit of Freleng's blunt, objective, no-frills directing. All of the fat is cut and we're able to immediately get to the goods.
Candidly, I'm surprised to have enjoyed this short as much as I did. I personally haven't seen it in at least 4 years, and foolishly believed it to be "just another short of the era" (which is to say, still very enjoyable). To see how evolved it was in terms of dynamics and humor and hierarchies was a delightful surprise, but one I should have anticipated. It's evolved in the convolution of the story, it's evolved in the confidence surrounding the Bugs and Elmer dynamic and unlocking the cliches within and knowing where to flip them on their head, and it's most certainly evolved in Bugs' ego death--it's a short that belongs in the same conversations as Tortoise Wins by a Hare in discussing a thin-skinned, flappable Bugs. It's very compelling to watch his own tricks be used against them and the powerlessness that ensues, and particularly with the knowledge that he's fighting against the embodiment of his own hubris. For a rare change, he's directly confronted with his own insufferability.
This is, like many Bugs shorts of the era, a happy precursor to what's to come with the character. A promising and stark sign of evolution, and how so many of these cartoons will be, and are already beginning to be, so much more than their base formula. To the point that these shorts dedicate themselves to going against that very formula.
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