A New Deal for Y2K?

By Martin "Dr. Toon" Goodman

With the kind permission of my readers, I would like to take a step back in time to examine a critical year in animation history and make some comparisons to the present. Since I am committed believer in historical cycles which are influenced by similar cultural events at diverse periods in time, this column continues last month's theme of prognostication. When the analysis is complete, there may be cause for rejoicing. I do solemnly promise that this piece will not be interrupted by any mention of BASEketball, which is well on the way to making at least one of my predictions valid; the chances of Mssrs. Stone and Parker pressing their mitts into a square of cement seem quite remote, as well they shoul be. With that vow, Sherman, set the Wayback Machine for...1940.

As the Great Depression began to recede under the New Deal and President Roosevelt pondered the disastrous events taking place in Europe and Asia, American animation was already a mighty arsenal of rich talent primed for victories all its own. New ideas and characters marched forth like conquering armies of the imagination. Consider the year 1940: Early in that year, Disney released Pinocchio, arguably the greatest animated film of all time. In November, Disney would release Fantasia, another contender for that title. Tex Avery at Warner Bros. would give the world the first definitive version of Bugs Bunny. Moviegoers that year were also treated to an MGM short called Puss Gets the Boot, which marked the debut of Tom and Jerry. A seemingly psychotic woodpecker later named Woody checked in from Walter Lantz' studio, and the Fleischers were finishing the first episodes of their stellar Superman series, which would debut a few months after the year ended. How did all these historic events occur in such a brief period, and more importantly, why? How does this Athenian Age of cartoons relate to our present time?

In making this comparison, the first thing to consider is that the most significant advances in animation were, and are, technology-driven. From the simplest invention such as a pegboard to align rice paper for more accurate tracing to the Pentium-powered intracacies of LightWave 3D and F-Curve, the art of animation has historically used technology to reinvent itself in ever-more precise and creative ways. It has not always happened immediately: Technicolor, multiplane camerawork, sound synchronization/quality, and the style known as "full animation" all preceded 1940.

However, I believe that true and lasting proficiency with all these advances took at least a few years to develop. Due to financial and executive decisions, these techniques also took some time to spread to, and be adopted by, each animation studio. My radical thesis is this: By 1939-40, most animation studios were technically on the same plane as Disney, and the people working in them had mastered the technological discoveries of the past eight to ten years. Some proof of this comes from the Terry studio, which passed on much of the bonanza for economic reasons. Their cartoons, black-and-white long after other studios went to color, were among the least appealing and interesting of all the available product at the time.

This thesis alone does not explain everything. There is plenty more to the mosaic, but one tile is firmly in place: Animation is enjoying its greatest technological boom ever. The myriad miracles of CGI-assisted animation have changed the face of the art and when mastery has been achieved, the full benefits will be awesome to behold. Even now motion-capture artists at Pixar are working on techniques to soften and round human figures while adding more realistic movements based on actual musculature. The final result will probably make Toy Story's "live" humanoids look as primitive as Col. Heeza Liar. There is no reason to imagine that the improvements will not continue until actual holography has been achieved and we are nervously sharing our couches with Stressed Eric.

Let us turn, at this point, to another cyclical event which I touched upon in my last column. In 1934, the Hays Office began to issue their infamous edicts agaist excessive sex, violence, gangsterism, and sundry other perversions in the movies. Among other things this censorship (there is no other word for it) led to the ruin and fall of Betty Boop. Yet, six years later animation witnessed the dawn of a golden age. How? The answer is simple: a backlash against censorship and control which took many subversive forms. Some of the cleverest tricks came out of the Warner Bros. studio, where the irrepressible Bob Clampett reigned as tail-tweaker supreme. Clampett would resort to tricks such as blatantly breaking the code in one scene so that censors would focus on it while passing a less outrageous (but quite risque) scene which looked pale in comparison. Tex Avery feared little from the censors and soon would be giving them apopleptic fits. Meanwhile, Hanna and Barbera were raising extreme violence to a hilarious new art over at MGM.

Cartoons became wilder, faster, more brash and more risque. Although the Hays Code remained in effect, it could no longer break Bugs Bunny or Woody Woodpecker in the same way it bowed Betty Boop. Much the same thing is happening in our era; Cartoons, sterilized to the point of inoffensive blandness by the beginning of the 1990's, began to throw off the shackles of the watchdog movement and take on a wild new hue. Broadcast Standards and Practices divisions at various networks behgan to yield, imperceptibly at first and then quite noticeably, to higher levels of limit-testing. In my last column, I predicted that this would continue; this month I submit that this increased leniency is a direct parallel to the backlash that hit by 1940, and thus another harbinger of a coming golden age.

More historical proof that the best may be yet to come? Let's look at yet another factor, that of cross-pollination, and how this concept mirrors the animation boom of 1940. I speak of a creative, not botanical process here; the idea that various animators and other personnel moving from one studio to another enriched the people, the studios, and the art of animation itself. During the silent era of animation there were few men (the industry, save for wondrous anomalies such as Margaret Winkler, was male) who could be called professional animators. As one anecdote by Shamus Culhane went, you could fit every animator in New York into a streetcar. There were no training programs, no schools, and no one who was even qualified to be an instructor, for that matter. When a new studio (such as Ub Iwerks) started up, the major metod of recruiting was to raid the competition. As a result, many of the greatest names in animation history worked at nearly every single studio extant and it was rare that any animator of exceptional talent stayed put for long.

Shamus Culhane, quoted above, might have held the record for the number of studios he called home. Other leading lights such as Al Eugster, Dick Huemer, Bill Nolan, Grim Natwick, and Rudy Zamora had stops nearly everywhere. The revered Tex Avery did stints at Lantz, Warner Bros, MGM, Lantz again, and Hanna-Barbera. The full list of ambulatory animators beyond the scope of this column to tabulate, but suffice it to say that from 1920-1940 nearly every working animator in the industry had a vita that included as many as four or five studios. The result was that by 1940 they had absorbed many different styles through diverse studio systems and were teaching each other. Somtimes this was a subconscious process, sometimes not: witness the influence of Mr. Avery on Hanna and Barbera's Tom and Jerry cartoons. There are few better examples of cross-pollination. The exception? Again, Terry Studios. The same key animators toiled there for nearly their entire careers, and that was one reason why Terrytoons never seemed to improve. Even the arrival of Bill Tytla near the end of his shattered career made no appreciable difference in the hidebound quality of the product.

The same rich process of cross-pollination is still going on today, but at a more rapid and voluminous pace. Every month executives, animators, and technicians are jumping from one studio to the next, and there are literally hundreds of animation studios, as opposed to the mere handful that existed from 1920-1940. There are far more animators of both genders to do that hopping around as well, and many of the larger networks and studios, such as Disney, have overseas subsidiaries where animators train and absorb from whatever culture thay are working in.

Studios still raid other studios (Disney and SKG Dreamworks had a marvelous game of personnel Red Rover going), but studios now raid animation schools and programs as well, offering choice wages and state-of-the-art working conditions as enticements. Nobody seems to stay for long, however, as there are always new challenges to meet, new shows to work on, and new profits to reap. The modern superstars of animation will have long and impressive resumes and are more likely to head independent studios by the end of their careers than retire with the studio that originally hired them. I maintain that this constant movement of transient personel within today's animation industry parallels the cross-pollination that fueled the creative burst seen in 1940. Is there a similar imagnitive explosion waiting to happen in the near future?

If these three historical trends (technological advances, censorship backlash, and cross-pollination) are any indication, I believe we might be heading for a wonderful new era filled with unforgettable characters and sterling new films and series. I freely admit that no examination of today's animation industry versus that of 1940 will result in a perfect comparison or even lead to accurate predictions about the industry's future. I merely wish to point out that there are several interesting correlations, and besides, what true animation fanatic can resist any hints that there are evn greater days ahead?

Side Commentary: Having had a look at the new Fall lineups for this year I see quite a bit to lokk forward to. Matt Groening's Futurama just might work, and despite the sentiment against Disney displayed by many animation nerds, I eagerly await Mouseworks (if only to see what can be done with the updated classic characters). I question if Spielberg can make the wrenching changes in Pinky and the Brain palatable after moving to a new network and teaming his characters with Elmyra (late of Tiny Toon Adventure). I wonder if Danny Antonucci can find success with Ed, Edd, 'n' Eddy. There are some new shows that I suspect may die on the vine, but I am willing to give them all a sporting chance.

I am troubled, however, by one concept, that of KIDS WB!'s Batman Beyond. Let me first say that I am, and have always been, an ardent fan of Batman: the Animated Series. Since 1992, this series has marked a high point in cartoon maturity and style; it's everything that Spawn wishes it could be. But this new series concerns me somewhat: I am uneasily reminded of the 1980's when Mark Fowler deregulated the FCC and cartoons became dreary, extended toy commercials. Batman Beyond supposedly chronicles the adventures of a righteous "Tomorrow Knight" clad in a jet-gliding super suit replete with an array of futuristic weaponry. Does this remind anyone but myself of Kenner's "Legends of Batman" action figure series in which toy versions of Batman are configured into so many variations that he is virtually unrecognizable? The packaging asserts that there will always be a Batman, and many of these garishly armored, jazzed-up playthings are meant to represent future versions of the Caped Crusader.

I am hoping that there is no intentional or even unintentional tie-in between the new series and this plasticine folderol. I have always been impressed by the intelligence and integrity of the original WB series, and I pray that this carries over to Batman Beyond. Anything less would be an unforgiveable letdown for Batman fans, animation nerds, and countless lovers of fantasy and adventure who belong to both categories. Sadder still if compromise should take place in the service of toy sales.

Dr. Toon awaits your commentary on this month's column.

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