Animals Better Than Humans In Cartoons

Press, Volume CIII, Issue 30469, 17 June 1964, Page 10

Animals Better Than Humans In Cartoons

There is always an uneasy silence if I say boldly, “I love cartoons” when conversation turns to TV programmes. Really I should know better than to drop such a brick in the intellectually limpid pool. My seemingly innocent remark breaks this mirror of mutual agreement, and the ripples can be seen as clearly as shock waves on a seismograph. An adult with such a childish trait seems to be regarded with pity. Although not put quite in the category of the village idiot by my friends, I feel they see metaphorical straws in my hair. Perhaps it would be more correct to say they regard me as a cross between Alice in Wonderland and the White Queen (with emphasis on the White Queen). On the other hand, teenagers greet my remark with derisive laughter, and children stare with suspicion. AU age groups think I should be my age. Well, point the finger of scorn if you like, I will not retract one word. I am devoted to Huckleberry Hound. He is the cartoon cracker-barrel philosopher. No matter what happens to him, he just forges ahead with an air of quiet, homespun confidence. Things can fall to pieces around him, situations come unstuck. It is all the same to Huck. With dogged persistence and complete disregard of external pressures, he carries out his plans to the end. Nothing surprises him, nothing rattles him. He can be fooled by those with lower cunning, but not for long. Steadfast and reliable, he always wins. He presents his “keen cartewn” Characters with a flourish and dispatch that a circus ringmaster would envy. “Miserable Meeces” Mister Jinks reminds me of Tom, in the old “Tom and Jerry” cartoons. He is harassed and duped by “them miserable meeees,” Pixie and Dixie, until goaded into retaliation. But, unlike Huck, he can never win. The skids are for ever under him—he lives in a world of permanent banana skins—TV’s perpetually pixilated pussy cat. ■ Yogi Bear is a little like a fat Don Quixote. He is full of good intentions, but is always misunderstood. Slow on the uptake, cheerful and good-tempered, he bumbles his way through life. Even with the help of his Sancho Panza, 800 800, he happily

spoils his own best-laid schemes. Most of his plans are beyonc his capabilities, whether he is robbing a beehive, or simply escaping from Jellystone Park. He is even surprised sometimes to discover he is a bear. But, smiling and affable, he ambles from one adventure to another. I feel sure his motto is “she’ll be right” The” voices in Huckleberry Hound are particularly good Huck's drawling vowels fit his personality to perfection. Pixie and Dixie are a pert and cheeky pair of mice, while Jinks’s slight stammer and mispronounciation in moments of stress are a joy. Yogi, of course, sounds, well, just like Yogi. Nothing could be in greater contrast to Huckleberry Hound than “Silhouette.”

I when the cat put him out at i night I was hoping that bls , last despairing cry of ■ “Wilma” might have changed i to “Yabba-dabba-doo” in the i last • episode, proclaiming ■ triumphantly that he cbuld at , least outwit the family cat i Dust Under Mat i The Jetsons have not been r long enough with us yet for me to have formed any opinj ion about them. I am still . at the cautious-bather stage, ; testing the water with my toe, , or, like an old resident ■ wondering what the new i neighbours will be like. So far, I am enjoying the , Jetsons’ way of life very much. I was much taken with • Rosey the Robot and amused J at the robot vacuum cleaner ’ stealthily brushing the dust under the mat. The “fooda- • rackacycle” getting mixed up had a delightfully slapstick touch about it while the teenagers doing the “Solar Swivel” with Jet Screamer on an anti-gravity floor had its moments. Living in the Sky Pad Apartments and going to the ‘ office in a small flying saucer . are a far cry from the Flint- ’ stones. Let us hope this new ’ series will wear better.