Saturday mornings will soon be bereft of animation. No independent or corporate-owned studio, however mighty their effort, can produce a feature-length film that can compete with Disney at the box-office or video counter. The classic and much-beloved Warner characters finally made it to the big screen but mainly as witnesses to the Ascension of Saint Michael to yet a higher level of the celebrity firmament. Richard Williams, one of our greatest living animators, lost two decades and the project of his dreams to creditors who then proceeded to butcher his precious work, The Thief and the Cobbler, before callously tossing it out to the public on video. The Tick will no longer dispense to evildoers the dirty sweat socks of justice. A dark pall begins to settle over Toontown - but wait! Who is that high-steppin' hombre a-ridin' to the rescue? Can it be...? Why, it's Tex Avery, back from the dead, come to make us all laugh again!
Back from the dead? Not exactly. Frederick Bean Avery really did leave us on August 26, 1980, but through the efforts of DIC Entertainment and Andy Heyward, the erstwhile King of Cartoons will return as a cartoon character himself to host Wacky World of Tex Avery this coming September. Although the series, as we shall see, has little to do with Tex Avery or his works, this miracle was made possible by the purchase of Mr. Avery's name (for an as-yet undisclosed sum from Tex's daughter Nancy Avery Arkley). "Tex Avery" (as opposed to Tex Avery) is a diminutive, rubber-faced Wild West cowpuncher who will be introducing us to "Avery-style cartoons".
Heyward, a former story supervisor at Hanna-Barbera, came across Avery while the great director was staggering through his first year at that studio and the final one of his life. By then depression, a successful but draining battle with alcoholism, loneliness, and cancer were wearing Avery down to a shadow of his former self. After developing Quicky (later Kwicky) Koala, a series that was forced to deliver far less than it promised, Avery was doing his best to punch up the Dino and Cavemouse segment of The Flintstones Comedy Show. It was an undistinguished end to one of the most illustrious animation careers in history, and it must be doubted whether Heyward knew the Tex Avery that his new show hopes to emulate.
Would anyone who truly knew the man portry him as a hyperactive, maniacal cowboy? By all accounts, from Chuck Jones (who worked with Avery at Warners) to Heck Allen, Daws Butler, and many others who worked with Avery at the height of his powers, Avery was a shy, deeply private person, one who did not share many of his personal thoughts or reveal his tru character to others; perhaps his cartoons performed that function. Colleagues remember Avery as insecure, unsure of himself, and perpetually worried about being unemployed due to the quality of his work.
Modest about his most spectacular achievements and disproportionately depressed about his above-average efforts, Tex would criticize his own shorts upon seeing them twenty years after they had had been released, wishing he could have done them better. His perfectionism existed in an unholy marriage with his legendary workaholic tendencies; furiously counting and cutting frames, checking and re-checking timing, so engrossed at times in his craft that he would refuse to attend to his own bodily functions, Avery was no freewheelin'-howdy pardner-mosey-on-down-Ricochet Rabbit-at -the-High-Noon-Corral-galoot. The record shows that Tex was a creative yet highly sensitive and private individual beset by insecurities and working obsessively to compensate for them. Perhaps, however, when one owns the rights to a name, one can disregard the nature of the man himself.
Well then, so much for the man if DIC so desires. What about "Avery-style" cartoons, to quote Heyward? The show was originally developed for European audiences, particularly in France, home of DIC. It has long been known that the French are rabid Avery fans and that Tex is a minor market in himself: Jeans, books, discos, and other marketable items all bear his name. In the home court of postmodernism, where the children of Derrida, Lacan, and Foucault tear Avery cartoons apart like deconstruction crews looking for arcane signifiers, Heyward has found a way to market a national obsession. Sort of. Since Turner owns virtually every Avery cartoon extant, Wild World of Tex Avery will feature none of Tex's signature characters (not that there were that many to begin with). Perhaps this is not a bad thing; Droopy, Master Detective fumbled the ball as often as not. Still, what might Tex have said about cartoons done in the "classic Avery style"? Little that would have cheered Heyward's heart, I'm afraid.
Toward the end of his life, Avery bitterly complained about the many imitators who copied his style and recycled his material. The Avery style, with its hyperkinetic pace, casual violence, gross anatomical exaggerations, and unabashed sexuality would find resonance even at Disney, years after Tex had gone to Boot Hill. During his career at MGM, Avery was in an intense but unspoken rivalry with the Hanna-Barbera unit. As a result of Tex's work, Hanna and Barbera speeded up the action and exaggerated the takes in their own films, elevating them into the annals of cartoon history. MGM producer Fred Quimby was puzzled by Avery's cartoons (he reportedly loathed some of them, like What's Buzzin' Buzzard) and constantly hounded Tex to tone them down. So did the censors. The Tom and Jerry shorts produced by the Hanna-Barbera unit wound up nominated for thirteen oscars, winning seven. Avery? One nomination. If Tex was fed up with others attempting to pilfer his style, one can hardly blame him. Of course, Mr. Avery is not in a position to make comments on DIC's efforts at this time.
Jerry Beck, one of our more distinguished animation historians, was reportedly disgusted by Heyward's plans. USA Today (2/18/97) quoted him as saying "...somebody's taking one of our greatest directors and besmirching his name. I find the whole thing to be ghoulish" The article's author, Jefferson Graham, introduces Beck's quotes with the statement that Beck finds "DIC's efforts a cheap way of cashing in on a great director's name." I am strongly inclined to agree. DIC and Heyward may have intended a homage, and I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt in this regard; but the term implies respect and honor. Imagine an art house deciding to give an exhibition of "Picasso-style" art, produced by contemporary artists who had never met or studied with Picasso. Then imagine hiring an Inuit female to portray Picasso and introduce these works. And, oh yes, let's imagine that they call the exhibition "The Impressionist World of Pablo Picasso". And when the critics scream, it could be explained that the art house had purchased the "rights" to Picasso's name. Homage?
There is neither space nor reason to recount Avery's immortal achievements here. I refer you instead to the incisive and brilliant books written about him, notably Joe Adamson's Tex Avery: King of Cartoons and John Canemaker's recent effort, Tex Avery. These references were invaluable in the writing of this polemic, and I give them due credit here. And of course, there are the cartoon shorts done by the master, available for viewing on the Cartoon Network and TNT, not to mention videotape and laserdisc. These seven-minute miracles are what truly bring Tex alive for us again. As for the Wild World of Tex Avery? Heyward may do well to remember that le style, est l'homme meme.
Send your questions and comments to: Dr. 'Toon.
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Page last updated 1/15/1998
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