195. A Star is Hatched (1938)

Release date: April 2nd, 1938

Series: Merrie Melodies

Director: Friz Freleng

Starring: Elvia Allman (Emily), Tedd Pierce (J. Meggaphone,W.C. Fields, Tour Guide, Ben Bernie), Mel Blanc (Meggaphone yelling), Bill Days (Dick Powell), Tommy Bond (Freddie Bartholomew), The Sportsmen Quartet (Chorus)

Two swan songs are sung here, one bearing much more historical significance than the other.

For one, Emily the chicken makes her final appearance, who we haven't seen since Boulevardier from the Bronx in 1936. Though Berneice Hansell provided her voice for her two 1936 appearances, Sara Berner provides Emily Katherine Hepburn impression here.

Secondly (and more importantly), this is Friz Freleng's final cartoon until 1940. As I've mentioned time and time again, he left WB in 1937 head over to Metro Goldwyn-Meyer, working on the The Captain and the Kids series. Ben Hardaway and Cal Dalton would form a unit in Friz's absence, only to be disbanded upon Friz's return in 1939. Though it's undeniable that Friz's second tenure is miles above his first, he's churned out a great batch of cartoons from 1934-1938. Parting is such sweet sorrow!

The cartoon itself sings a very similar tune to Let It Be Me while debuting some gags Freleng would exaggerate in the future--Emily the chicken heads to Hollywood to make it big after encountering a suave Hollywood director in her hometown. The cartoon's title is a reference to the 1937 film A Star is Born, the film spawning adaptations from 1954, 1976, and 2018. 

Right away, the audience is clued into the Hollywood motif as indicated by a sign none too subtle:

Pan left, then truck into (the truck itself jittering for a moment--the camera department was still working on smoothing out transitions) Hickville Gas Station/Police Station/Fire Station/Justice of the Peace/Plumbing Supplies. The gag is not only amusing, but does a fine job of establishing just how small this town really is. Not a word has been said and yet we're already well acquainted with the context. The banjo rendition of "The Arkansas Traveler" solidifies such a hillbilly feeling.

We pan to the window above the side of the gas station, and are greeted with a much more sophisticated scene. Our star's bedroom is littered with Hollywood paraphernalia: posters, magazines, even pennants. Once again, Friz does a fantastic job setting up the scene--lots of context is being absorbed by pure atmosphere alone. 

Focus is shifted onto Emily, perusing a "MOVIE STARS" magazine on her bed. She detaches herself from the magazine only to give a dramatic Katherine Hepburn inspired soliloquy: "Rah-lly, I know someday, somehow, I too shall be a great actress. I just know I will, rah-lly I do. And great men will be at my feet and kiss my hand..." 

Emily continues on, traipsing over to her bedroom window. "I will play Juliet. 'Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?'" As always with these caricature centric shorts, the Hepburn impression would have packed a much harder punch 83 years ago, but is still nonetheless amusing today.

A few knocks at the door (ended with "Shave and a Haircut", of course) interrupts Emily's theatrics as she attends to her visitor. Said visitor is her hick rooster admirer (whose gotten a redesign since 1936), Tedd Pierce providing his obnoxious Elmer Blurt impression heard previously in Jungle Jitters. 

He offers her some posies, the animation quite nice as he chuckles and guffaws. However, Emily isn't interested, instead putting on her best Greta Garbo accent as she says "Please, go avay. I vant to be alone."

More adequate context clues as we hear honking outside Emily's window--all we see is a gloved hand pressing on the wheel and a Hollywood license plate, but that's all we need. Friz's speed is in fine condition as Emily zips out behind her admirer, greeting whoever this hotshot is.

Said hotshot is parked at the gas station, driving a pompous yellow window and sporting a beret, sunglasses, and a gaudy plaid coat. Emily is already smitten as he greets her, and indeed her fantasies are confirmed as she takes a gander at the side of the car:

Instead of cutting away back to Meggaphone, we instead pan up, which stabilizes the flow. Smart thinking. 

We get a closer look at this "great director", ridiculously sporting 3 pairs of sunglasses on top of his already garish outfit. Ken Harris' smears are a dead giveaway to his handiwork as Meggaphone shushes Emily, who inquires about his identity. "Shh!" He whips his head around before giving an unconvincing "I'm traveling incognito." Of course, nothing about his outfit screams secrecy, making the gag all the funnier.

Emily gushes to Meggaphone about how she's always wanted to go to Hollywood, her unlimited talent, rah-lly, etc. Meggaphone takes off his "disguise" (his sunglasses) to get a closer look at Emily, marked by a full-body pan upwards. 

Evidently, Emily's physique seems satisfactory. In a gag that would be used again in Freleng's Yankee Doodle Daffy 5 years later, Meggaphone offers Emily his card, its grandiosity marked by the neon letters. Meggaphone tells her, "If you ever want to get in pictures, look me up."

Emily flips over the card to uncover more information on this intriguing figure:

With that, Meggaphone takes his leave, and we're met with some more refreshing speed as Emily zips up into her room, past her dejected lover (who's still waiting there!), grabbing her suitcases--which are shoved into her dresser to look like dresser drawers--and back down the stairs. 

Her lover can only wilt along with his bunch of posies. The "dejected boyfriend" point of view is in the backseat here as compared to Let It Be Me and Boulevardier from the Bronx, which can be both good and bad. Good, as it differentiates this short from the two and introduces a new angle, paving the way for new gags, but bad, because it can mark a loss in charm about a story of the boyfriend getting his comeuppance. Regardless, it's more interesting to ponder than anything.

It seems in every single review, all I do in regards to Carl Stalling's music score is sing praises, but here especially is a wonderful score of "California, Here I Come" accompanying a montage of Emily hitchhiking to Hollywood. 

The score is deliberately out of tune, almost childish, later crescendoing into a brassy, slow, minor key rendition of the song. All of it perfectly encapsulates Emily's attempts and failures to hitch a ride--cars whiz past her and her hitchhiker's thumb is no good. Overlaid images of her legs walking, mile markers, her sticking out her thumb, and cars passing by all combine to make a very effective montage. 

This feels more akin to Frank Tashlin's montages, which is good. Friz has had many montages in his shorts before, but usually reusing footage and utilized as a way to soak up time. Here, it comes off more strong as an artistic decision rather than a way to save money--not that there's anything wrong with the latter, but the confidence of the former is certainly noticeable. I enjoy Stalling's score so much that I opted to embed a video rather than attaching images, so more justice is done that way.

At last, the montage (and Emily's trek, for that matter) end with a shot of Hollywood, a triumphant fanfare and spotlights illuminating the city's importance. Funnily enough, the same shot (sans  spotlights) would be used as the title card for Tex Avery's Daffy Duck in Hollywood, another 1938 cartoon.

With any cartoon taking place in Hollywood, we're greeted with a barrage of celebrity caricatures, underscored by an appropriate score of "Hooray for Hollywood". Caricatures of stars such as Edward G. Robinson, Greta Garbo, and Joan Blondell all pass by the "HOLLYWOOD COSMETIC SHOPPE".

Elsewhere, reused from The Coo-Coo Nut Grove and Dog Daze, a caricature of  John Barrymore walks down a sidewalk, his face at a constant profile--appropriate, considering he was known as "The Great Profile", his headshots always seeming to be at a profile. Meanwhile, child actor Freddie Bartholomew (caricatured in Porky's Road Race) serves as a paperboy, waving his wares and talking in his distinguishable British accent.

And, of course, no celebrity infested cartoon is complete without Clark Gable flapping his ears as a trolley bell OR W.C. Fields serving as a stoplight, his bulbous nose turning red and then green. If you listen, the lyrics in the background say "Go out and try your luck, you might be Daffy Duck" as opposed to the original song's lyrics of "Go out and try your luck, you might be Donald Duck"--our next review, Porky's Five & Ten, also borrows this Daffy-centric lyric. A funny bit of wordplay that also foreshadows Daffy's growing influence.

It's inarguable that this "expositional" sequence drags on, and it only continues to do so as we zoom into the TCL Chinese Theater (complete with an appropriate score of "Chinatown, My Chinatown"), showing "Prince and His Papa", a play on the 1937 film The Prince and the Pauper.

Now, we have a line of cement gags, featuring the handprints and footprints of famous celebrities. Greta Garbo was often lampooned for her huge feet, and here is no exception as we pan out to see her footprints, taking up the entire sidewalk.

The Hollywood gags don't stop there--remember, we initially started this short with the focus on Emily the chicken. A tour guide introduces an awestruck crowd to the wonders of Hollywood. Here, their necks extend (accompanied by an electric guitar twang) and slide back into place as the ogle at the sights, Tedd Pierce's narration never taking a pause.

We spot the home of The Thin Man (William Powell), the Semoan Semoan home (Simone Simon), and the home of Tarzan, a pan revealing Johnny Weissmuller sitting in a treetop (in an armchair of course) perusing the newspaper. One of the more entertaining gags is at the end, where we see that all of the Hollywood homes are instead a giant cutouts.

It's been nearly 2 minutes since we last saw Emily, but finally the plot is accelerated as she approaches the studio gates of SUPER SUPER COLOSSAL PICTURES. Emily clutches J. Meggaphone's business card and traipses in...

More nice context clues as all we hear is frantic clucking, accompanied by feathers flying. In a direct parallel to Let It Be Me, Emily is given the boot, Ken Harris animating her flopping to the ground and staring at the foot mark on her bottom. 

However, her anger isn't permanent--she spots a sign that says "DO NOT ENTER WHEN RED LIGHT IS ON". A back entrance! The light flashes red a few times, and out come Charlie McCarthy (Edgar Bergen's ventriloquist dummy) and W.C. Fields, his nose serving as the aforementioned light. While the nose gags have gotten a bit stale now, I'm certain they caused a big laugh in theaters back in the day, which is nice. It does seem a little overkill to have two nose/light-bulb gags in such a small span of time, though.

Nevertheless, the casting office snags Emily's attention next, and she treks over to peek her head in. Carl Stalling's sardonic music score of "You Ought to Be in Pictures" serves as an appropriate commentary to the corniness of the gag as we spot a line of businessmen casting and reeling in their fishing lines.

Another gag that would be reused in Hollywood Daffy is a number of celebrities emerging from their dressing rooms, the doors tailored personally to every physique: Mae West's door is a perfect hourglass, while Charlie Chaplin's leaves wide room for his horizontal placed feet, Chaplin doing his trademark walk as he exits.

Back to the substance of the cartoon as we spot the pompous J. Meggaphone strutting inside the soundstage--animation traced from Let It Be Me--, a little duck assistant (perhaps an idea of what Daffy would have looked like in a '37-'38 Freleng short?) lugging his chair. 

A great piece of staging as we pan left--Meggaphone's chair is proudly emblazoned with his name, boasting his role as director. Pan left to a line of assistant directors, all mimicking Meggaphone's stance, swinging their legs and looking on. The uniformity is simple but strikingly effective. 

"I think I'd better give this a close-up." Meggaphone's question is completely rhetorical as he asks "Don't you think so, boys?"

The assistant directors echo "Whooooooooooooa, yeeeahhhhh!" from The Ken Murray Show, nodding in unison. 

Well, save for one. The 15th assistant director shakes his head no with a grimace. A mallet hits him over the head offscreen, causing the outlier to jump around and clutch his knee in pain. While his pain is well communicated, it is a strange choice for him to be clutching his knee and not his head--though I suppose that's a clearer way of indicating pain in the first place.

Freleng would reuse this next gag in You Ought to Be in Pictures, but with live action instead: Meggaphone barks "QUIET! We're recording!", and all of the assistants, one by one yell "QUIET!", the last rooster's "QUIET!!!" particularly gruff. They got different actors to say the line, which is nice, and being able to hear the echo of the room is a fun (yet accidental) touch.

Cut to the busy streets of Hollywood, filled with cars hustling and bustling. The stoplight changes from "GO" to "QUIET!", and all at once the cars freeze in their tracks, not a peep to be heard. A very amusing gag, no doubt, but I think allowing the cars to continue driving in utter silence would have been even funnier. Nevertheless, that's personal opinion speaking.

Next kicks off a musical medley provided by "Dick Fowl", a not-so-subtle caricature of Dick Powell. "Fowl" sings "All Is Fair in Love and War", "Don't Give Up the Ship", and "Song of the Marines", each song requiring a snappy wardrobe change to match the various branches of the military he represents. The Powell caricature is a little uncanny, verging on unsettling--the rather random close-up of his mouth accompanied by near silence does little to alleviate this. Regardless, whoever provides his vocals is quite good at imitating the real thing. I'm slightly familiar with Powell's work, so this gag may amuse me more than the average viewer today, but again, I'm sure it would have gotten a rise out of an audience in 1938.

Meggaphone, however, isn't satisfied. Mel Blanc's signature yell bellows out of his mouth as he screams "CUT!!!" We therefore segue back to Emily, a dreamy score of "Vienni, Vienni" serving as accompaniment as she pokes her head into the employment office. 

Unfortunately for her, it seems like Meggaphone isn't the only one who took a liking to Emily--in a scene that beckons memories of Emily's rejection in Let It Be Me, we find a gaggle of lovestruck hens all staring at their OWN personally signed Meggaphone business cards. The staging is clever, but a little off--the hens are animated at profile so we can see their faces (always helpful), but makes the angle of them admiring their cards come off as very unnatural and awkward. Regardless, the concept of the staging is a smart one. 

To add insult to injury, all of the hens crowd around Meggaphone, who enters the office. Emily straggles, calling in her Hepburn voice "Oh, Mr. Meggaphone, remembah me? Remembah? Look, it's me!" Instead, she's met with a door in the face as all of the hens follow Meggaphone into the next room. Emily is left in tears, lamenting "This is so embah-rrassing..."

The transition to the next scene is a little too sharp--perhaps I'm just thinking of previous cartoons such as Let It Be Me where we see the reconciliation occur on screen, but we cut to Emily and her hick admirer from before, contentedly sitting at home while their kids play (including one chick chasing another with an axe!)

A direct reference to Let It Be Me, one of Emily's chicks is engrossed in a movie magazine, cooing in an Hepburn-esque drawl that someday she, too will be a great actress. Emily smacks her in the face, and that puts an end to that as we iris out.

While this is likely the weakest entry of the Emily trilogy, there's much to admire. I really enjoy the prevalence of the context clues in this one, especially in the beginning half. Backgrounds, pans, close-ups, and music all combine to tell a story when the dialogue itself is absent--and effectively at that. The montage of Emily hitchhiking to Hollywood is particularly enjoyable, and Ken Harris' animation of J. Meggaphone whipping his head around in his "disguise" is very nice.

However, this cartoon lacks substance--much of it's screen time is occupied by Hollywood sight gags that have little relevance to the plot. The gags would have been much funnier at the time of the cartoon's release than they are now, so again, that would be a bit of an unfair criticism seeing as Friz couldn't look into the future, but they take up too much time and space and seem like a distraction. It certainly breaks up the momentum of the plot.

I do find myself liking Berneice Hansell's portrayal of Emily's more than Sara Berner's. Though the Hepburn impression is amusing, Emily here comes off as much more unlikable, which is likely the point. It's easier to sympathize with Hansell's portrayal, Emily coming off as more innocent and cute as a result. Nevertheless, the cartoon does the Hepburn impression well.

Let It Be Me and Boulevardier from the Bronx are much stronger entries, focusing more on Emily or her hick boyfriend's comeuppance (or at least the former does). There's none of that heart-warming tale here--while mean-spiritedness is something quite prevalent in the Looney Tunes universe, this cartoon comes off as a little too cold. There's not enough humor to balance out the sting. I think you'd get more out of watching Let It Be Me than this. The art style for that short is, surprisingly, more appealing too.

Regardless, there are worse entries of Friz's out there, and compared to Jungle Jitters this is a relief.

Speaking of Friz, I feel it's an appropriate time to pontificate on his initial tenure, even if he will be back in 2 years: I've said it over and over again, but I do believe he deserves much more credit as a director overall. While his second tenure is much stronger: funnier, snappier, more appealing, his first tenure brought a lot of good to the studio that I believe is too overlooked.

Going back to the Buddy era, when Friz first began directing, his cartoons were a wonderful sigh of relief in a time littered with obnoxious, boring, and stale cartoons featuring Buddy. His shorts weren't gut-busting hilarious, but they were much more preferable over Jack King and Ben Hardaway's shorts. Friz was undeniably the funniest director then.

Tex Avery and Frank Tashlin's arrivals did a lot of good. Friz, Tex, and Tash all seemed to be locked in a competition of "who does it better?", which proved to be contagious. All of the directors fed off of each other's speed, humor, and characters, and the shorts grew better and better as a result.

While Friz's entries as of late have been on the decline, there's still much to appreciate. His timing is spot on, and will only continue to grow during his second tenure. Speaking in terms of his second tenure, I think Friz made the funniest cartoons out of anyone. His comedic and musical timing couldn't be sharper. 

I'll certainly mourn his absence, but he'd return in finer and stronger form, which is something certainly worth looking forward to. It's been a good run--may we meet again soon, Frizby!

Link!

145. Boulevardier from the Bronx (1936)

Release date: October 10th, 1936

Series: Merrie Melodies

Director: Friz Freleng

Starring: Berneice Hansell (Emily), Tedd Pierce (Dizzy Dan), Jack Carr (Claude), Mel Blanc[?] (Turtle), Melvin Gibby[?] (Horse)

The first cartoon to use “Merrily We Roll Along” as the theme song for Merrie Melodies! Eventually, this would be the only indicator in discerning the difference between cartoons in the Looney Tunes series and cartoons in the Merrie Melodies. Even then, a few LT shorts have gotten a Blue Ribbon release, which uses the MM theme song, further skewing any difference. This would be the theme song for Merrie Melodies all the way until 1964. Quite a momentous occasion! 

Plot wise: Emily from Let It Be Me makes a reappearance, falling for star baseball pitcher Dizzy Dan (a play on star pitcher Dizzy Dean.) Her sweetie, Claude, (the pitcher for Hickville) is none too pleased, and seeks to settle the argument in a good old game of baseball.

An underscore of the title song opens the cartoon, accompanied by a cluster of banners and pennants. One in particular advertises an upcoming baseball game in Hickville, welcoming a rooster by the name of Dizzy Dan, who will be pitching for the Chicago Giants. The faraway drone of a train whistle serves as a signal to an expectant homecoming band, and they launch into an exuberant rendition of “It Looks Like a Big Night Tonight”. The train hurtles right past them, without taking any note—quite the impressive overlay of the train rushing past. A cloud of smoke fills the frame and the music halts.

The train is at a standstill, hissing and exuding black smoke just a bit ahead of the station. So, of course, the villagers push the train station along to the train ITSELF. Another impressive overlay, especially for 1936. Fanfare resumes, and we go inside the cabin to see Dizzy Dan gleefully looking out the window at his adoring fans. He swaggers along, posing at the end of the caboose, met with applause and cheers. Off to the side, Emily the hen and her (presumed) boyfriend admire the spectacle from afar. Emily is clearly smitten—“Isn’t he handsome?” Her boyfriend thinks otherwise, scoffing “Awww,” dismissively while she giggles.

Dizzy Dan asserts he has quite the inflated ego, turning around to show off the back of his jersey. “THE GREAT DIZZY DAN” blinks on and off in pompous neon lettering. With that, Dan orders “Okay, maestro! Strike up the band!” and launches into a talk-song rendition of “Boulevardier from the Bronx”, a song that would be used in a handful of Warner Bros cartoons. 

The animation is amusing, with interludes such as a man blowing into a trombone, his hat flying off in accompaniment, or the lettering on a drum bouncing off with each hit. Even more amusing is dan himself kicking at the ground and clucking like a feral rooster—in case you didn’t know what species he was! Emily swoons from the sidelines, her boyfriend shooting steely glares at her and Dizzy Dan. All in all, an amusing song number.

Finally, the fated event arrives as we fade in to the baseball field. A pig shouts through a megaphone “For today’s game, Giants vs. Hickville! Pitching for Hickville: Claude!” 

Claude, Emily’s gangly, hayseed, envious rooster boyfriend is met with a wave of noise... booing. A hilarious contrast as Claude rakes in the glory, shaking his hands until realizing the clamor isn’t a positive one. The pig announcer then introduces Dizzy Dan, whose status is so gilded and precious that his sacred pitching arm is safely propped up on a pillow, carried by a little duck assistant. “Play ball!” 

The diamond is filled as everyone assumes their positions, with dan contentedly tossing the baseball in his hand. Turning his hat around first, the catcher, a turtle (whose animation would be reused in Freleng’s Porky’s Baseball Broadcast) turns his shell around 180 degrees to substitute as protective padding, garbling a string of incomprehensible encouragements to Dan. 

A measly little Mr. Magoo type pig is up to bat. Dizzy assures his fans that he’ll “Strike em all out!”, and with that he goes for the pitch, whirling his arm at bewildering speeds (accompanied fittingly by the sound of a jet plane warming up). He throws the pitch, the catcher managing to catch it as he’s propelled into the backstop—a gag that would be reused to a much higher degree in Freleng’s classic hit Baseball Bugs. To remedy his throbbing, burning hand, the pitcher soaks his injury in a nearby bucket filled with water, steam hissing at the initial contact.

Second pitch plays out the same as the first, reusing the animation. Strike two. This time, for the third pitch, the catcher holds a pipe bent in a U shape. The ball hurtles into one end and pops out of the other, landing right back in Dizzy Dan’s clutches as the third strike is made. A victorious, obnoxious rooster cackle from Dan. The Giants are beating Hickville (not by much), with one point per inning, the game in the second inning. What a riveting game! 

Now, hayseed Claude is up to pitch against the mean Giants, who are much more competent on the field than Hickville’s team. Claude pitches to a wiener dog, which contorts his body in a sideways U as the ball whizzes right past him, nearly taking him out. A ball—the batter isn’t too pleased, (no pun intended) barking “Hey! Be careful!” Another pitch, and the batter hits it.

There’s some nice, floaty animation as Claude runs backwards, repeatedly calling “I got it! I got it! I got it!” in a dopey, hayseed voice. Instead of one ball returning to the ground, a brief shower of baseballs rains on Claude. A bit of an incoherent gag, but coherent enough to get the general gist across. The wiener dog runs across the field, elongating his body and contracting it with each turn as his legs catch up to him. A home run, much to the befuddlement of Claude.

Elsewhere, Dizzy Dan is off to the side, flirting with Emily, stroking her chin and ogling at her while she giggles in the stands. He swaggers to the batting plate, posing nonchalantly and leaning against his bat, waiting for Claude to pitch. The ball whizzes by, right into the catcher’s mitt while Dan doesn’t move a muscle. Another ball whizzes by, another strike. 

Emily calls “Ooh, you better hit it!” from the stands, but Dan shrugs her off. “That’s alright! I only need one ball!” This time, he finally assumes the batting position, and most definitely hits the ball with the final pitch. The ball rockets straight into Claude, propelling him across the field, right into the backstop.

Dan has his own personal cheering section as Emily cries “Run! Run! Run!” Dan’s in no hurry. “I got lotsa time,” he drawls dismissively. Claude is positively fed up with Dan’s attitude, and throws the ball back to the catcher. An interesting layout as the ball flies IN from the audience and to the catcher, Dan zipping around the diamond like it’s nothing. Safe. Another victorious cackle.

What a high score. Just riveting! Neck and neck! At the final inning. The giants are in a staggering lead of 3-0. Claude is up to bat, glaring daggers against his cocky mortal foe. Dan reassures him “Now i’ll strike ya out so you can go home!” 

He gives his famous whirlwind pitch, and the ball soars right past dan, the impact causing a tremendous gust of wind to blow across the field. The next scene is wonderfully structured: “Now i’ll show ya my slow ball!” Carl Stalling’s score does wonders as a slow, slurred rendition of “Boulevardier of the Bronx” accompanies dan throwing his pitch in slow motion, the ball lazily floating through the air, creeping towards claude. Even greater is when Claude swings his bat wildly as the ball approaches, a flurry of activity contested with such a slow moving ball—and he still misses.

Stakes are high with the final pitch of the game. Dan anticipates and gives one final whirlwind throw... and Claude hits it. A jaunty accompaniment of “In the Stirrups” as Claude darts home, the crowd going wild. Final score: 3-4, Hickville. Claude is showered in hats being thrown off the field, with him waving his own as a dejected Dizzy Dan trudges up to him in defeat. The cartoon ends as Claude laughs in Dan’s face, doing the same obnoxious cackle that Dan had been taunting the entire short.

A decent cartoon, but not much above that. Freleng’s best baseball cartoon (and one of his best cartoons in general) would be Baseball Bugs, released 10 years later in 1946. There definitely are some similarities, such as the backstop gags, but Baseball Bugs certainly possesses a lot more energy and wit than this cartoon. With that said, though, this is a good cartoon for its time. Catchy music, decent animation, good voice acting, but it’s nothing particularly thrilling. Not bad, though! I’d maybe do a one-time watch. I don’t regret watching it, but I think this was enough for me.

Link!

130. Let It Be Me (1936)

Release date: May 2nd, 1936

Series: Merrie Melodies

Director: Friz Freleng

Starring: Berneice Hansell (Emily), Billy Paye (Bingo), Jack Carr (Clem), Gil Warren (Announcer), Jeane Cowan (Hen)

This has an interesting backstory. Bing Crosby has actually sued Warner Bros. over 2 cartoons. It’s common knowledge that he’s at least sued over one cartoon, which is Bingo Crosbyana, also released in 1936. However, he also sued over this one too—and lost both. You’ll see why, but he sued over unflattering depictions of him. Bing would be a common celebrity featured in many a cartoon, as well as fellow crooner Frank Sinatra. If I remember correctly, I had heard that he didn’t like his portrayal in Frank Tashlin’s iconic Swooner Crooner, the only Porky cartoon to get nominated for an academy award. So, with that! Crooner Bingo has won the hearts of millions, including country bumpkin Emily. Emily’s husband isn’t too enthused when Bingo and Emily start hanging out with each other and get too close for comfort.

A gaggle of lovestruck hens crowd around the outside of a radio station, all trying to listen to the warbly strains of Bingo Crosby’s (as he’s not so subtly named in this cartoon) voice. Sure enough, Mr. Bingo is recording the title song “Let It Be Me”, cozying up to the microphone and putting on his shtick.

No hen is immune to Bingo’s charming voice. A flock of adoring hens crowd around a radio, complete with a framed photograph of Bingo on top, as if the radio is some sort of shrine to a feathery, crooner god. One hen in particular struggles to join in with the crowd, almost like a kitten trying to squeeze in with the rest of its litter to get some of its mothers milk.

Elsewhere, a scene reused from I Wish I Had Wings (and would again be tailored in Wise Quacks to fit daffy and his wife) has an adoring hen embracing her own personal photo of Bingo while listening to the radio. Her husband walks in, and quickly she hides the photo behind her back. The husband demands to see what it is she’s hiding, turning off the radio so she can give him her full attention. She eventually gives up and peeks out of her hands in giddy embarrassment as the husband ogles at the photo. To say the least, he isn’t too pleased—he throws the picture on the ground and stomps all over it for good measure, leaving her in tears. The plight that is Bing Crosby! 

Bingo wraps up his recording session, and struts outside of the radio shack, parting the waters that is his adoring fans. He tips his hat and tugs on his bow tie, bidding them a sly “Good morning, girls.” The hens giggle and guffaw and blush in response, as if every single movement he makes is the funniest thing in the world. Bingo meanders along his way, accompanied by a lovely underscore of “I Wanna Woo”. Bingo, ever the charmer, coyly tosses his boutonnière to his fans, and a cock fight ensues as the hens tackle each other for the flower. An oldie but goodie for sure.

Some nice juxtaposition: we fade out on the calm, cool, and collected Bingo Crosby and fade in on a hayseed, dopey farmer who is clearly the opposite in every which way of the former. He merrily struts along with a bouquet of handpicked flowers. He knocks on the door of a rural house, and out comes a quaint little country bumpkin hen. A precursor to the dopey voice Kent Rogers and Mel Blanc would perform in their cartoons, the rooster guffaws “Ah-I-I bought you some posies, Emily,” dragging his feet around as he giggles while Emily smells the bouquet. Emily squeaks out a “Thank you!” as the two yokels flirt together.

There’s a lovely undershot of a long, fancy, quite frankly intimidating orange car rolling down the dirt road. It’s none other than Bingo, honking his many horns (each imitating his voice, giving a “booboobooboo”—a favorite to use amongst all WB directors with their interpretations of Bing) to mark his arrival. Emily cries “Ooh, there’s mister Bingo!” and drops her flowers as she rushes over to the end of the driveway, her husband obviously hurt.

Bingo screeches to a halt at the front of their driveway. Emily is tickled pink to see him, and her husband... not so much. Bingo tips his hat and croons “Good morning, my pretty maid.” She giggles and covers her face as Bingo checks her out for a prolonged amount of time, evidently to his liking. A great visual as Emily’s husband (i guess more so boyfriend) literally turns green with envy, kicking the ground in aggravation. 

“How’d you like to go for a ride, baby, and I’ll show you the sights of the city?” A country bumpkin going out into the city—joy! Emily eagerly accepts bingo’s invitation and hops right in his car. With that, the two speed off and the poor rooster is left to his own devices.

A very creative transition: fade out on the bewildered rooster. Soon enough, the black screen is showered with balloons, confetti, and noise. Fade in to a nightclub filled with rowdy patrons. Emily and Bingo are situated in the back, eagerly surveying their surroundings. Bingo offers Emily a glass of wine, but she refuses, shaking her head no. Instead, Bingo resorts to charming Emily with a few “booboobooboo”s, and she’s wooed enough to take a sip. Regardless of Bingo’s intentions, Emily coughs and sputters after just one sip.

Enter a curvaceous, beautiful turkey with an impressive fan. She launches into “I’ve Got My Eye On You”, and Bingo is immediately taken with her. She approaches Bingo and they flirt together, much to the chagrin of a neglected Emily. She gives Bingo’s sleeve a few haughty shakes, to which Bingo motions at her to buzz off. Thusly, Emily breaks down into tears, Bingo summoning a waiter to kick her out. What a charmer! 

Let It Be Me (1936), left, and He Was Her Man (1937), right.

Indeed, Emily is booted onto the streets, bearing an imprint of a foot on her behind. In a scenario that would be reused not even a year later in Freleng's He Was Her Man, a time card declares TIME STAGGERS ON before we’re transported to the wintry city streets. Emily attempts to peddle some violets in the midst of the harsh storm, but receives no takers.

Meanwhile, her hayseed rooster husband paces around in his home anxiously. He sighs longingly at a framed portrait of Emily, unable to discern what she sees in that stupid crooner. His thoughts are echoed as the radio broadcasts the vocals of Mr. Bingo himself, once again warbling “Let It Be Me”. The rooster is furious and slams the radio to the ground, the radio giving a few last dying “booboobooboo”s.

Time to take action. The rooster courageously wraps a scarf around his neck and prepares to brave the storm as he opens the door. However, the storm is much stronger than the rooster’s determination, the wind blowing him back through several doors in the household and out of the back door. Instead, the rooster marches out into the streets from the back of his house. His march grows only more hurried and vitriolic as visions of Bingo dance in his head—visions of wringing him by his spindly little neck.

The radio shack pops up in sight, and the rooster storms right in. Bingo’s croons are put to a halt and are replaced by the sounds of offscreen, comical violence as the rooster pummels him behind closed doors. I wonder why on earth Bing tried to sue them. The rooster takes care of his duty, but is hardly fulfilled. He treks glumly along in the snow, still longing for his dear Emily.

He can only sulk as he treads on, ignoring the squeaky voice of some random woman selling violets on the street. He halts. Sure enough, it’s his beloved Emily, freezing her feathers off. He bellows “Emily!” with outstretched arms, and Emily happily responds “Clem!” (Foreshadowing to Red Skelton's Clem Kadiddlehopper?) as the lovebirds embrace.

Time marches on, and our heroes now have a happy family. Clem reads by the fire while Emily knits, both watching adoringly as their chicks playfully cheep and chase each other, a fitting underscore of “Home Sweet Home” furthering the coziness of the scene. Relaxation is disturbed when one of the chicks begins to sing, sounding awfully similar to a familiar crooner as the chick gives out a few “booboobooboo”s. He’s quickly shut up as an offscreen book is hurled at his head. Iris out.

I enjoyed this cartoon! Friz’s cartoons are getting better and better, and this one made me smile. Just knowing that Bing tried to sue WB for this cartoon definitely adds to the appeal. It seems he wasn’t too great of a guy himself (which is a shame, I love his music), so this is almost cathartic. Berneice Hansell does a great job of voicing Emily (like always), and whoever did the voices for Bingo and Clem also deserve recognition. Lots of funny gags, such as Clem turning green with envy and the bastard child at the end. I’d say go watch it! If anything, it’s worth watching knowing it sparked a lawsuit.

Link!