Showing posts with label Mickey Mouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mickey Mouse. Show all posts

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Book Review: WALT DISNEY'S MICKEY MOUSE, VOLUME 6: LOST IN LANDS OF LONG AGO by Floyd Gottfredson (Fantagraphics, 2014)

We've finally hit the mother lode of the early-modern (read: "post-pie-eyed" and "pre-all-gags-all-the-time") MICKEY MOUSE strip.  If I had to choose a single era of Floyd Gottfredson's prime creative years in which I felt the strip was at its very best, it would be 1940-42, the years covered in this volume.  No single story jumps up and presents itself as a "smack-you-across-the-face" classic on the order of "Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot," but all of them are, at the very least, good.  Merrill de Maris' imaginative verbal interpretations of Gottfredson's plotting is at its best, while Bill Wright's inking is slick and confident.  The locations of the stories spreadeagle the map; to take the most head-spinning example, Mickey jumps from a bloody, near-deadly encounter with the primitive inhabitants of the "Lost World" of Cave-Man Island ("Land of Long Ago") right into the catty "drawing-room comedy of manners" (so saith yours truly, in an introductory essay) that is "Mickey Mouse in Love Trouble."

A fan's appetite for revisiting (or, in such rarely-reprinted cases as "Mystery at Hidden River" and "Mickey Mouse, Super Salesman," making initial acquaintance with) these tales is made all the keener by the knowledge that major changes in the strip were just over the horizon.  De Maris departed the scene in 1942, Dick Moores assumed the inking chores soon after, and we would have to negotiate several long stretches of gag strips before Bill Walsh took firm control of the plottery... and promptly steered the stories into very different, though still highly entertaining, channels.  Thad Komorowski has a good point when he fingers "Hidden River" as the last adventure that could be said to fit the "prewar Gottfredson adventure model." (This is quite literally true: Pearl Harbor was attacked just as Mickey was riding down a log flume, heading for the end of the North Woods encounter with a newly pegless Peg-Leg Pete.)  The happiest thought that one can take away from these tales is that the "prewar model" rolled out of the shops in first-class condition, rather than gasping to the finish line.

** SPOILERS **

The best story herein?  Well, I'm kinda prejudiced in favor of "Love Trouble," but even I would admit that an actual adventure needs to take pride of place, and I'm perfectly fine with Byron Erickson's praise of "The Bar-None Ranch" as an ideal story to show a "Gottfredson newbie" so as to pique his or her interest in seeking out more of the strip.  The story has very few plotting problems and a good mix of humor, action, and "forward thinking" (Peg-Leg Pete's use of a scientist's "dinguses" to create the illusion that he is an unstoppable master crook).  In addition to being a bit more sedate -- not to mention a bit dated in its portrayal of feminine "wiles" and overall bitchery -- "Love Trouble" also contains an annoying flaw, one that I did not mention in my essay but have always found irritating, nonetheless.  In order to get back at Minnie's stepping out with the caddish, superficially debonair Montmorency "Rodawn," Mickey calls on his cousin Madeline to play the role of visiting debutante Millicent Van Gilt-Mouse, who becomes smitten with him.  At one point, though, when we see Madeline call Mickey on a house phone, Mickey answers and refers to her as "Millicent."  What, does he think Minnie has the phone tapped?  They're conversing in private, so why just call Madeline by her real name?  And it would have been so easy to have fixed the problem, too, by having the two meet at a cafe or something.  OK, it's not as obvious a flaw as the sudden change of the mysterious ghosts in "Bellhop Detective" from three-dimensional spooks to 2-D projections on a wall... it's just that this story came SO close to stone perfection.  I can't help but be just a LITTLE resentful.

Insert "beach/bitch" gag here.

We begin to get inklings (and even a few overt mentions) of the war era in "Hidden River" and "The Gleam."  One possible essay feature that I would like to see in the next volume -- which will take us deep into the war years -- is how depictions of the conflict in the MICKEY strip changed over time.  I've only had extensive exposure to the Walsh-scripted continuities from 1944 and 1945, and some of those stories could certainly be considered more or less escapist.  I seem to recall that there was far more actual war-related material (including war-themed gags) in the strip during the first few full years of the conflict.  At least we won't have long to wait to test my theory.

Feature material in this volume includes a cartoon tribute by Stephen DeStefano (of Disney Comics peak-years fame), reprintings of several panels' worth of examples of the Gottfredson "redraws" that appeared in WALT DISNEY'S COMICS AND STORIES in the late 40s and 50s, and an "Heirs of Gottfredson" piece on Carl Barks that includes a color reprinting of Carl's one MICKEY adventure, 1945's "The Riddle of the Red Hat" (FOUR COLOR #79).  For something that Barks claimed to not be his "cup of tea," this story is surprisingly good.  Barks certainly didn't mail it in; he does a particularly good job of writing Goofy. 

One comment of Gottfredson's concerning this era that probably should have been mentioned somewhere in here was his claim that the revenue from the MICKEY strip and the other ongoing Disney strips was literally keeping the straitened Walt Disney Studios above water in the early 40s.  (Recall that Pinocchio [1940] had been a box-office disappointment, the first release of Fantasia [1940] was an out-and-out bomb, and the war had cost Disney the overseas market.)  How about a statistical report at some point on how successful the MICKEY strip actually was?  Do those data even exist any more?  It's worth a dig through the appropriate archives, if you ask me.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Disney Comics: NEXT PUBLISHER UP!

While he was attending the New York Comic Con, Joe Torcivia passed word along to me that "classic" American Disney comics are finally on their way back.  So, did Disney finally grow a brain and realize that, hey, it now owns one of the world's biggest comics outfits (Marvel), so Disney should oblige it to get cracking?  Well, um, no.  The publisher is actually going to be IDW.  Surprise, surprise!

Let's look at IDW's official announcement of what it terms "a monumental collaboration" and see what we can glean from it:

This monumental collaboration kicks off with multiple monthly series featuring some of the most iconic characters of all time: Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Pluto, Minnie Mouse, Goofy, and many more! Re-presenting acclaimed comics from the past and today, these series will highlight the best and brightest of Disney’s impressive comic catalogue.

Looks as if the old standby titles -- MICKEY MOUSE, DONALD DUCK, UNCLE $CROOGE, and WALT DISNEY'S COMICS AND STORIES -- have some life left in them yet.  Hopefully, IDW will know who to consult regarding identification of the "best and brightest," starting with those people who made the final few months of Boom!'s Disney comics line so enjoyable.  Given IDW's interest in publishing adaptations of animated series (MY LITTLE PONY, ROCKY AND BULLWINKLE, and various CARTOON NETWORK series, just to name a few), could some Disney Afternoon-related titles also be in our future? 

The award-winning Artist’s Edition line, pioneered by IDW, that showcases original artwork, will feature collections from the immense talents who have contributed to many beloved Disney comics over the years. Artist’s Editions featuring the legendary Carl Barks and Don Rosa will receive the spotlight in these gorgeous over-sized collections of original art reproduced at full size.

Sounds good, too.  Given the collector-focused nature of the Artist's Edition line, it is likely that the regular comics will be pitched at both collectors and new readers.  American Disney comics MUST do something to increase the pool of potential patrons, or we all are simply going to die out! 

Launched in 2014, Micro Comic Fun Packs have enjoyed immense success with highly recognizable franchises, and will expand its line with multiple Disney properties. Packed with a mini-comic, stickers, posters, and more, the Micro-Comic Fun Pack has been captivating new comic audiences on a mass-market scale.

OK, as long as IDW doesn't try to stuff comics material into boxes of ice-cream treats.  (A few of you will know what I am referring to there.) 

Celebrating the rich history of the many facets of comics, the Library of American Comics offers detailed and insightful looks at specific comics and creators. Beginning in 2015, the LOAC will begin collecting the various newspaper strips that have featured iconic Disney characters.

Given that Fantagraphics is releasing the Barks and Gottfredson collections even as we read, what could IDW have planned here?  Collections of the SILLY SYMPHONIES strips, perhaps?  I can't see them simply taking over from Fantagraphics.

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Back to personal musings... If IDW's handling of the MY LITTLE PONY franchise is any indication of how the Disney characters will fare in the company's hands, then there is every reason to believe that IDW will be good stewards.  Management of American Disney comics has been so erratic, whimsical, and downright perverse over the decades that I, for one, could stand for a spell of honest, reliable craftsmanship.  One open question at the moment is how "hands-on" Disney will be with IDW.  Actually, I'm inclined to believe at this point that Disney couldn't care less.  If Disney found it easy enough to ignore its alliance with Marvel, then Disney clearly saying that it's perfectly willing to let IDW take the comics off its hands (or somewhere near there), just as long as they don't have to deal with the issue any longer.  "Ignorance is bliss," Disney style?  It might actually be a blessing.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Book Review: WALT DISNEY'S MICKEY MOUSE, VOLUME 5: OUTWITS THE PHANTOM BLOT by Floyd Gottfredson (Fantagraphics Press, 2014)

By the time we run out of space in this latest Gottfredson collection, we're bumping up against what I consider to be THE ABSOLUTE prime period of the strip -- roughly, from 1940 to 1942.  Every single story during this period is a winner in every way, and, as fate would have it, we're going to get just about the whole schlemozzle in Volume 6.  Before that, however, we're obliged to crawl over a fair amount of the panelological equivalent of "broken glass."  Despite the presence of the single most famous MICKEY story of them all, "Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot," the 1938-1940 dailies reproduced here vary dramatically in quality and force the reader to choke down a carload of racial stereotypes, mostly of the black persuasion.  (Even the appearance of the Blot himself was partially inspired by the looks of two Negro children called "The Blots" in the old comic strip JERRY ON THE JOB.)  Some of the early reviews of Volume 5 have made quite a bit of this unfortunate coincidence.  It doesn't really spoil a context-conscious reader's enjoyment of this collection, of course, but those who are made overly squeamish by "unacceptable" pop-culture conventions past are advised to proceed with some caution.

One of the problems here is that some of the worst examples of stereotyping are married to stories that are unusually weak by Gottfredson's standards.  "Mickey Mouse Meets Robinson Crusoe" marks a significant turning point in Mickey's history, as the strip of December 22, 1938 suddenly finds The Mouse sporting pupiled eyes for the first time.  The context, confusingly, is the start of filming of a new MICKEY cartoon, an adaptation of the Daniel Defoe classic.  Not that Gottfredson hadn't tried framing gambits like this before -- see this volume for two such efforts -- but, given that the daily strip, unlike the Sunday page, had long since been dedicated to lengthy, real-world adventure narratives, using it here seems awkward.  Gottfredson's use of the "make-believe" cordon sanitaire becomes more understandable once we bite into the heart of the story: a messy slumgullion featuring an irritatingly nebbishy, "pink-tea" version of Crusoe and "island natives" who talk like Stepin Fetchit.  It's every bit as embarrassing as it sounds.  Remarkably enough, Gottfredson did a sequel of sorts to "Crusoe" in "An Education for Thursday," wherein friendly (and lazy, and hungry) native Friday sends his "almost twin brother" Thursday to Mickey to acquire some "edumcation."  IMHO, "Thursday" wears a bit better than "Crusoe" only because Thursday is a primitive savage, as opposed to a deep-Southern knockoff, and it's not hard to mentally replace Thursday with DuckTales' Bubba Duck and interpret Gottfredson's three months' worth of "fish out of water" gags as a sort of "early director's cut" version of "Bubba Trubba."

"The Miracle Master" and "The Plumber's Helper", while far more satisfying than "Crusoe" and "Thursday," suffer from another problem that seems to have been bothering Gottfredson during this period: an inability to wrap up his stories in a reasonable amount of time.  "Master" takes a reasonably short time to make its basic cynical point about the futility of well-meaning reforms (even magical ones) in a fallen world, but taking the show to "Genieland" to make exactly the same point seems like overkill.  The inadvisability of the double-dip becomes apparent when Mickey's visit to "Genieland" quickly devolves into a series of gags.  Granted, many of the gags are pretty amusing, but you're ready for the story to be over long before it actually is, a rare experience for a Gottfredson reader.  "Helper" is a cleverly written mystery featuring one of Gottfredson's more intriguing visiting characters, but, given that it lasts almost 40 strips longer than "Phantom Blot" and has almost no action, it's not hard to imagine that Gottfredson could have sped up the story a little and sharpened its impact.

Aside from "Phantom Blot," the quality of which goes without saying, the best story in the book is "Mickey Mouse, Mighty Whale Hunter," the last great "true adventure" of the "pie-eyed Mickey" era.  It's got all the classic whaling tropes -- including, of course, a couple of ethnic stereotypes among the crew -- but Gottfredson doesn't fall into the trap of concluding the tale with the capture or destruction of the legendary whale "Ol' Barney."  His solution to the problem is far more subtle and gives Mickey one of his more memorable "compassionate moments."

Ancillaries include reproduced pages from the "softened" 1955 reprinting of "Phantom Blot" in WALT DISNEY'S COMICS AND STORIES, in which the Blot's notorious deathtraps are redrawn by Paul Murry as considerably less perilous perils; a first-rate essay by Joe Torcivia on the history of the Blot; and a fascinating "Heirs of Gottfredson" piece detailing just how heavily the early works of Osamu Tezuka were influenced by "Phantom Blot."  It ain't subtle, gaijin.

Friday, January 17, 2014

DUCKTALES RETROSPECTIVE: Episode 68, "Time is Money, Part Three: Bubba Trubba"

The "Trubba" meets the road...and, boy, does it leave an unsightly mark!

That "supernova effect" emanating from the returning Millennium Shortcut is strictly a coincidence. "Bubba Trubba" is anything but earth-shattering and marks the point at which "Time is Money" loses its narrative momentum.  Sure, it does have a legitimate "cliffhanger" ending that Bob Langhans would certainly appreciate (though the events leading up to this stinger are problematic in and of themselves, as we shall see)...

... but, while we're waiting for Scrooge to collapse (a crash that some may actually welcome given the rancid way in which Scrooge has acted throughout the ep!), we are obliged to slog through a loosely connected series of "Bubba makes trubba" shenanigans that resemble nothing so much as a vest-pocket animated version of Floyd Gottfredson's 1940 MICKEY MOUSE continuity, "An Education for Thursday."

"Education" isn't generally considered to be one of Gottfredson's better narratives, but at least he was sufficiently cognizant of the little aborigine's limited appeal to make sure that three months' worth of gaggery ended with Thursday returning home.  DuckTales fans, of course, would not be rid of Bubba quite so easily.

For an episode that basically amounts to a series of riffs on the basic theme that Bubba, in Scrooge's exasperated words, "does'nae understand!" how to conduct himself in modern-day Duckburg, "Trubba" wastes little time in getting down to... well, "business" would hardly be the appropriate word.  Literally seconds after the Shortcut has crashed through Gyro's roof and Gyro has done his fall-back take upon seeing Bubba and Tootsie, Bubba has begun to explore (and completely misinterpret) the world around him.  This climaxes with Bubba's mousetrapping of Scrooge, who has apparently forgotten any concern for Bubba's well-being that may have manifested itself during "The Duck Who Would Be King" and has settled into the semi-frantic, increasingly paranoid mindset that will hold him in a gorilla grip until the ep's final moments.

Hey! You put Gyro's Helper down this instant, Bubba... oh.
 
Gyro doesn't tick off the audience as thoroughly as does Scrooge in this episode, but he doesn't exactly cover himself in glory, either.  Gyro goofs right out of the gates with his comment "I told you... toy with time and you're asking for trouble!", which stinks on ice for several reasons.  In "Marking Time," Gyro didn't seem to have any problem sending those little alarm-clock probes back in time, altering ancient civilization in the process.  More to the point, during that ep, HE NEVER ACTUALLY TOLD Scrooge and company that time travel was dangerous.  Having claimed to have given a warning that he didn't actually give, Gyro then turns the gaffe on its head at the end of Act One and hits Scrooge with the "history is like a jigsaw puzzle" metaphor at exactly the wrong time. Greg makes the salient points about this setup:

Gyro explains that by keeping Bubba here; there is a huge hole in the puzzle and then the hole got bigger. And apparently; if history were as big as Duckb[u]rg; the hole could be [Scrooge's] Money Bin. Scrooge is paranoid now as I am so not buying this since if there was such a thing; we would have really seen the effects in the negative for Scrooge. Everything has been positive for Scrooge; minus Bubba and Tootsie annoying him, but that is minor. Scrooge grunts and blows off Gyro's nonsense. I agree; you would think that we would have clearly seen a negative effect by now.  Scrooge shows Gyro some dollar bills and the wind howls and blows them away as Gyro claims that it is starting already. That is lame; it was JUST a gust of wind and Scrooge was foolish enough to show dollar bills in an open roof. I am not buying this...

Having Gyro provide a motive push of sorts for Scrooge's descent into near-madness was, IMHO, a major mistake.  I think that it would have been much better had Scrooge come to his own conclusion that Bubba's presence endangers his fortune.  Such incidents as "the stock market dropping 50 points" and Bubba causing thousands of dollars' worth of damage in various venues could have been kept, but Scrooge's reactions to them could have been depicted as arising from fears in his own mind.  This would have been a more daring characterization, in that Scrooge would have come across as being even less likable than he does in the actual ep, but would have made for a really interesting psychological dynamic and would have made the scene with Scrooge's conscience seem much less gimmicky and much more meaningful.  The use of Gyro, ironically enough, takes Scrooge at least partially off the hook for some questionable behavior.  

 
Scrooge, of course, provides one of the scourges for his own back by deciding to spread news of his "victory" over Glomgold, and Bubba's arrival in Duckburg, to the world.  If I were in Scrooge's spats, I don't know but what I might want to keep Bubba's presence as secret as I possibly could. Flinty, after all, gets the idea of kidnapping Bubba, brainwashing him, and sending him back in time to destroy the markers only after having seen Bubba on TV.  Plus, Glomgold and the Beagle Boys probably aren't the only individuals who might want to capture Bubba and Tootsie for their own nefarious purposes.

The Duckburg legal system has already revealed itself to be full of flaws -- and we haven't even gotten to "The Bride Wore Stripes" yet -- so it's not surprising that it whizzes the matter of Scrooge vs. Glomgold down its proverbial pants leg.  The fact that Webra Walters describes Scrooge's markers as being a million years old should have made it clear that Scrooge messed with the terms of the initial contract, so why is his claim to the diamonds ruled to be valid?  Is Glomgold's reputation THAT bad?  (Actually, the equivalent of "the Feds" in the Ducks' world may share some of the responsibility, since "the Supreme Court" is credited, or debited, with the handing down of the final decision.  That could be the Supreme Court of Duckburg, of course -- a city with its own space agency and intelligence agency could probably swing a high court with ease -- but, for the sake of argument, I'll assume that "the Supreme Court" means pretty much the same thing in Duck-land that it does in our own world.)

Glomgold adds to the mucking-up of the ep's midsection by hatching what is, quite frankly, a completely cockamamie scheme to use Bubba as his "rogue agent" in the past.  Consider that the decision on the markers is already known to everyone in Duckburg.  If the cave were found to lack markers at some point in the future, then wouldn't it be logical for everyone to think that Glomgold did something on his own to alter the past?  Visions of GeoX's nightmare scenario of Glomgold and Scrooge screwing with one another's plans ad infinitum come quickly to mind.  What GeoX didn't mention is that, in order for Flinty's scheme to work, Flinty would literally have to alter the minds of EVERYONE who had heard about the decision.  Good luck with that.

From the above, it should be clear that "Trubba" is pretty seriously compromised even before we reach all the repetitive "Bubba causes massive city-wide trubba" junk that dominates the last half of the episode.  We enter the "spin cycle" with this justifiably notorious sequence:

Comments are unnecessary here, but I'm going to indulge in some anyway:

1.  I believe that this is the first time that the series actually depicted HD&L going to school.  During season one, they'd referred to homework assignments ("Armstrong," "Nothing to Fear," "The Golden Fleecing") and been questioned about their academic performances ("Raiders of the Lost Harp"), but I can't recall a previous schoolroom sighting.  More such scenes were to follow during season two, which would be fine, except that the main excuses for such visits typically centered around Bubba.  I don't know about you, but for the Nephews to be sent to school simply to serve as foils for a caveduck kind of sticks in my craw.

2.  So who were those kids doing the singing?  They didn't receive any credit whatsoever.  I know that Greg has frequently complained about DuckTales not making use of child actors to voice child characters.  You would hope that the one time DT did employ kids, the show would give them due recognition, but no such luck.

3.  HD&L's "one-room schoolhouse," on its infrequent appearances, occasionally takes on the trappings of an architectural TARDIS.  By this, I mean that, though it seems rather small from the outside, it is always large enough on the inside to accommodate whatever school paraphernalia are needed for a story -- lockers, lunchrooms, and, in this case, high ceilings that allow for the formation of human pyramids.

The entire "Rose Society" sequence was excised from the two-hour version of "Time is Money," and the fact that its absence isn't noticeable indicates just how superfluous a good deal of "Trubba" is.  In fact, Mrs. Beakley's attempt to educate Bubba in the social graces is probably the best of the three lengthy gag sequences.  Mrs. B.'s willingness to defend Bubba from the accusations of the raving Scrooge is legitimately admirable, giving some real bite to her ultimate humiliation, and Bubba, natural chaos-causer though he might be, does make a good effort to fit in at the party.  His panicked trampling of the banquet table might be excused on the grounds that he was preoccupied with the thought that Tootsie was in trouble.  By contrast, when Thursday invades a glitzy soiree, he acts like a savage from the get-go.

Launchpad gets the last crack at minding Bubba and Tootsie, but, being Launchpad, makes a fatal mistake by bringing the duo to the dinosaur exhibit.  One can hardly blame their extreme reaction in this case.

Throughout all of this, of course, the Beagle Boys are trying -- and failing, as in the modern definition of "FAIL!!" -- to kidnap Bubba and/or Tootsie.  Here is a place where GeoX's excoriation of the DT Beagles seems at least somewhat appropriate.  Very rarely have they appeared as utterly, uncompromisingly inept as they do in these scenes.  In the past, even at their bunglingest, they typically posed at least some sort of threat.  Here, between the physical pratfalls and the embarrassing disguises, they seem about as threatening as a hangnail.  Even their climactic, Bubba-aided climb into the Money Bin has a distinctly bogus feel: Bubba had pulled the hose out of the wall while trying to "tame" it, so how on Earth did the Beagles manage to climb up the hose when it was not anchored on top?  Sure, Bubba may have held onto it for them, but we never actually saw him do that.  Then, too, Bubba blindly tossed the hose down the side of the Bin without any knowledge that the Beagles were there to begin with.  The staging in this entire sequence left one whole honkin' pantload to be desired.

The business with Scrooge's elvish conscience (who has a somewhat lower voice here than it would in "Ducks on the Lam") has its childish aspects, to be sure. It makes Scrooge's examination of his conduct a bit less serious than it probably needed to be.  It must be said, however, that the scene got one big thing right: It obliged Scrooge to remonstrate "with himself" without any other character getting in the way.  It's just too bad that scenarist Len Uhley couldn't have duplicated this approach "on the other end" and dispensed with Gyro as the trigger for Scrooge's paranoia.

Of all the individual parts of the DuckTales multi-episode epics, "Bubba Trubba" is unquestionably the least substantial.  The number of logical lapses in such a content-free ep is troubling, as well.  Unfortunately, the balance of "Time is Money" will not make up the deficit -- in fact, it will increase it before all is said and done.

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 Bumper #3: "Turtle"
"I made me fortune by being tougher than the toughies and faster than the... slowies!"

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"DuckBlurbs"

(GeoX) "I absolutely positively cannot be bribed!" "Even with a new scarf?" "You've got yourself a deal!" This would be funnier--or at least make some sort of sense--if it had ever been established that Launchpad was some sorta scarf fanatic. Otherwise, it just looks like a writer going, "crap--I need for there to be something Launchpad is really fixated on in order for my tired joke to work! Um…he has a SCARF! I can say he's obsessed with SCARFS! I am SUCH a genius!" 

To be fair, Tootsie did chew up Launchpad's scarf earlier in the episode, so LP would probably jump at the chance to get a new one.  (Which reminds me -- Tootsie's voracious appetite was referenced at several points during "Trubba," but I don't recall it being referred to in such a major way again.  I guess it got sent down the same "memory hole" that claimed Scrooge's obsession with "teamwork" in "Back Out in the Outback" and Louie's desire to be a door-to-door salesman in "Much Ado About Scrooge," among other things.)

(GeoX) Newscaster screaming and ducking when Glomgold hurls a vase at the TV--pretty funny. 

Funny, and decidedly weird -- far more so than Scrooge's relatively modest "fourth-wall-busting" in "The Uncrashable Hindentanic."

(GeoX) I know this isn't something anyone wants to be reminded of, but seriously: naked Scrooge moving to cover his nonexistent genitalia. Jeez, writers, what did we ever do to YOU that you hate us so? 

He should just be thankful that that vacuum wasn't a Dyson.

(GeoX) Is that vulture teacher the same one who appeared in "evil" form in "Nothing to Fear?" She's certainly much jollier this time around. 

Indeed.  Like Princess Luna in My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mrs. Quackenbush seems to change her personality every time we see her.

(Greg) We begin this one in the skies as the Shortcut magically reappears again as it spirals around and then loses it's propeller barely ten seconds in and goes into a tailspin (BWHAHAHAHAHAHA!). Scrooge has got to realize that safe and sound means nothing in the DTVA world. Everyone screams as I shudder in fear because they have decided to start in earnest. We cut down to Gyro's house...

... which is where, exactly?  When the Shortcut fails, it appears to be hovering over downtown Duckburg...

... yet, when the craft actually plummets to Earth, it seems to be falling into a semi-rural area:

I'm more inclined to think of Gyro's place as being somewhere in the outskirts of Duckburg (the better to protect the downtown area in case of an "inventing emergency," you understand), but these scenes definitely muddle the issue.
 
(Greg) Bubba grabs a pink phone and goes moo.

This would have been problematic had Bubba, as "The Great One," not been involved with giving a cow back to a Toupayian farmer in "The Duck Who Would Be King."

(Greg) Bubba hugs Mrs. Beakly and he lifts her about two feet off the floor.

And he would do the same to the Nephews at the end of "Ducks on the Lam."  Thursday, too, was known to hug folks unexpectedly:

(Greg) The nephews tell Bubba to come in and Bubba comes in reluc[tan]tly with his new suit and he looks like he is going to a rock concert. Funny how Bubba is fully dressed with shoes on ; but the nephews have only a shirt and baseball caps on. That is just peachy folks. Bubba comes in with his red boom box (a gift from episode 1) as Tootsie enters wearing the SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT and a blue sash on. 

I don't recall Bubba bringing any carry-on luggage with him when he stowed away, so how did he get the boom box back?  Perhaps each Nephew owns his own boom box, and one of the other two boys stepped up when the first box was left behind.  Somehow, I have a hard time imagining Scrooge splurging on three boom boxes when one would probably do...

(Greg) So we logically head to a large mansion as a dozen rich folks (including one duck in a weird red hat and gown with the purple FEATHER OF SLIGHT SUFFERING) talking to another rich snob. There are balloons; a hose statue for a fountain and if you look closely; you can see a version of Mrs. Quackenbush in the background.

Other familiar figures in the background include the Mayor of Duckburg, Gloria Snootley ("The Status Seekers"), Lord Battmounten and several of his confreres from The Explorers' Club, Robin Lurch ("Down and Out in Duckburg"), Lady De Lardo, Webra Walters, and Sir Guy Standforth (I guess he escaped "Snowy"'s clutches at some point).

(Greg) And then Bubba follows and ALL HELL IS BREAKING LOOSE as the [Rose Society] pump tent is destroyed (Huh? Logic break #3 for the episode right there)...

There's nothing logically wrong with this at all.  You can clearly see that several of the panicking guests knocked down several of the support poles, causing the tent to fall.

(Greg) Let's face it; Scrooge HATES Bubba and some fans believe that the feeling is understandable and even justified.

That's reasoning in retrospect, I think.  When I first watched "Time is Money," I thought that Scrooge was being ridiculously unfair to Bubba.

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A final comment: Recall my contention that "The Duck Who Would Be King" might just as well have been a stand-alone episode and contributed absolutely nothing to the balance of "Time is Money."  The recap that leads off "Bubba Trubba" lends support to my argument, as it ONLY includes footage from "Marking Time," climaxing with Bubba hitching a ride with the Ducks.  Sic transit gloria mundi, eh, "Great One"?

Next: Episode 69, "Time is Money, Part Four: Ducks on the Lam."

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Book Review: WALT DISNEY'S MICKEY MOUSE COLOR SUNDAYS, VOLUME 2 by Floyd Gottfredson "and friends" (Fantagraphics, 2013)

It's the "... and friends" portion of the header that kind of gets me, in the sense of slightly coloring my opinion of this handsomely-produced volume.  In addition to reprinting the balance of Gottfredson's MICKEY MOUSE Sunday work from January 1936 to December 1938, the book also serves up all subsequent MICKEY Sundays on which Gottfredson filled in for other artists, as well as the Mouse master's contributions to the Disney Studio's TREASURY OF CLASSIC TALES Sunday page.  TREASURY was basically a printed vehicle for propagandizing then-current Disney films, though established characters would occasionally appear in completely "new" stories, such as the Gottfredson-scripted, Julius Svendsen-drawn "The Seven Dwarfs and the Witch-Queen" (1958).  TREASURY definitely deserves a comprehensive reprinting project of its own; the problem is that this volume explicitly advertises Mickey Mouse as the star attraction.  Personally, I would have preferred to have seen one or two prime examples of Gottfredson's non-Mouse work -- Gottfredson's handful of DONALD DUCK strips and "Lambert the Sheepish Lion" (1956), which was drawn by Floyd and written by Disney Comic Strip Department manager Frank Reilly, would have been my choices -- and then devoted the rest of the volume to a more extensive feature on ALL of Gottfredson's "Sunday successors," such as Manuel Gonzales, who does get a brief bio here but who deserved to have a bit more of his fine Sunday work reprinted.  I would venture to guess that more newspapers in the 60s, 70s, and 80s were running the Sunday MICKEY page than the daily strip; my hometown paper in Wilmington, DE, which used to run the Gottfredson daily back in the latter's heyday, was doing so by the time I came along.  A fuller-fledged tribute to the Sunday page would therefore not have seemed out of place.

I have no complaints concerning the MICKEY matter herein.  During the latter part of his tenure on the Sundays, Gottfredson seems to have made a conscious decision to use the page as a sort of "training ground" for characterizations and plot ideas that would get more serious workouts in the daily strip.  Thus, as the Sunday Goofy developed from a clumsy clod into a more complicated character who baffled his pals and delighted readers with his sideways logic and skewed "inventiveness," so too did Goofy take many of those traits with him into the daily adventures that he shared with Mickey.  Thus, for example, the Goofy who stumbled into the role of a supposed "desperado" in the 1937 Sunday tale "Sheriff of Nugget Gulch" would reappear, in a manner of speaking, as a self-deluded, would-be cowpoke in the 1940 daily story "The Bar-None Ranch."  The Sunday continuities "The Robin Hood Adventure" (with its storybook human supporting players) and "The Brave Little Tailor" (with "movie actor" Mickey starring in a story within a story), glued together, produced the later daily continuity "Mickey Mouse Meets Robinson Crusoe."  In both cases, the relatively straightforward Sunday developments were amplified, and their implications were explored in more depth, when they were applied in the daily format.

In the waning days of Gottfredson's "Sunday best," Merrill de Maris took over the dialogue chores, as he did on the daily strip, and the characters' patter becomes at once snappier and more imaginative, reflecting, in a sense, the impending cultural shift from the patched-pants, "gas house" 1930s to the brassier and quicker-tempoed 1940s.  It was during this era -- the strip's zenith, I would argue -- that Minnie started to mutate from Mickey's finicky but nonetheless loyal mate to a much more flighty character who is obsessed with style, fashion, party-going, and the maintenance of image to a degree that at times makes Rarity seem grounded.  Not coincidentally, this Minnie is more quickly "exasperated" by Mickey and his actions, both real and perceived, setting the stage for the classic continuity "Love Trouble" (1941).  You can see the start of these developments in the last several Gottfredson-de Maris Sundays.  So, too, do these late pages reflect a somewhat edgier approach, particularly in a psychological sense.  In his "Mickey's Sunday Best" essay at the front of the book, J. B. Kaufman notes one particularly problematic 1937 Sunday strip in which Mickey "gets even with" Morty and Ferdie for stealing some bread and jam and trying to frame Pluto for the offense by threatening to wallop Pluto with a baseball bat.  It was all a ruse to make the kids confess, of course, but Pluto had no idea of Mickey's intentions.  Nor did we see Mickey witness the crime as it happened, which would have made his benign motive clearer from the outset.  This is a very disturbing strip, indeed, but it does presage the daily strip's turn to less overtly sentimental characterizations and situations in the late 30s and early 40s.  The very next MICKEY volume will lead us into that era and its considerable glories.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

DUCKTALES RETROSPECTIVE: Episode 63, "All Ducks on Deck"

"All Ducks on Deck" isn't a character-building episode on the order of "Hero for Hire," "Sir Gyro de Gearloose," or "Top Duck."  Nor is it an old-fashioned Barksian treasure trek like "Raiders of the Lost Harp."  Its original air date, a couple of days after the similarly-themed "Spies in Their Eyes," may actually have worked against it a bit, at least in the minds of those viewers who were unfamiliar with the history of Disney comics.  However, for those "in the know," the ep took no time at all to shoot to the top of the "faves" list, for one rather obvious, obsidian-cloaked reason...

Yep, the appearance of The Phantom Blot was a stunner, all right, not least because he had long been linked with Mickey Mouse in fans' minds.  (It also may have marked something of a turning point in the depiction of The Blot in all media, an argument which I will explore below.)  Why did the DT crew wait until almost literally the last minute of the first season to bring him on board?  The big-canvas criminal plans that The Blot typically favors would seem to provide an excellent contrast to the more Scrooge-centric obsessions of The Beagle Boys (robbing the Money Bin), Flintheart Glomgold (topping Scrooge on the money list), and Magica De Spell (getting her hands on Old #1).  Moreover, in battling The Blot's machinations for the good of the wider world, Scrooge would have multiple chances to grow in moral stature, just as he did when he tearfully left the petrified Nephews and the rest of his family behind at the Mansion and went off to secure "The Golden Goose."  Oh, well, at least we'll always have Cat Island.


As memorable as The Blot's performance is, he's not the only star of this particular show.  For example, he must (no doubt reluctantly) share the stage with Donald, who turns in his most comprehensively Barksian performance of the series here.  Any Duck fan who doesn't recognize the influence of Barks in Don's desire to impress his Nephews by relating tall tales of his supposed Navy exploits is hereby required to turn in his or her honorary key to the city of Duckburg -- no exceptions.  At the same time, the specific sin that Donald commits also makes perfect sense in the context of his role in DT, and, more specifically, of his relationship to HD&L in the series.  The slightly more "grounded" and cynical Nephews of most Barks "ten-pagers" would more than likely have seen through Donald's exaggerated stories relatively quickly and blown them off without having to set a webbed foot inside their uncle's duffle bag.  By contrast, from the opening moments of "Don't Give Up the Ship," the DT HD&L have generally tried to give Don the benefit of the doubt, and they maintain that attitude throughout the course of "Deck." Even after the boys stow away and learn that Don's stories of heroism were bogus, Louie declares that he's proud of Unca Donald anyway, and the trio dig into the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook and set about trying to create situations in which Don can live up to his inflated self-image.  In the end, after braving a fair amount of adversity and bum luck -- most of which happens to him through no direct fault of his own -- Don comes up with the plan to guide Scrooge and Launchpad back to the carrier with flares (OK, GeoX, it may not have been "brilliant," but Don hatched the idea at the precise time it was needed, which has to count for something), and the boys reward him with the handmade medal in a touching scene that does, indeed, evoke memories of the heartfelt concluding panels of Barks' 1956 story "The Olympic Hopeful." 

The episode sets up Donald's folly perfectly with the opening Pinball Reef sequence, which plays out like a "sea story" brought to visual life.  The anthropomorphized waves, the giant octopus' "knotty" end, the "dinging" sounds that Don's carrier makes when it collides with the reef, and the carrier's abrupt acquisition of Slinky-like capabilities as Don pilots it out of the hazard are unmistakable signs of a fib being told -- more specifically, a fib of the hyper-exaggerated sort that the comics Donald might conceivably dream up if he were in a particularly creative mood.  The difference here is that Don is allowed to "get away with" these initial whoppers, at least at first, since the DT HD&L already have a more consistently benign view of their fallible uncle to begin with.  Some of the more hard-assed "sourdoughs" in the Barks fandom might object to the show letting Donald slide by in this manner, much as some fans of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic didn't like it when the fib-telling Rarity managed to preserve her reputation with both her forgiving friends and Canterlot society in the episode "Sweet and Elite."  Both Donald and Rarity do seem to learn and absorb their lessons, however, which is the whole point of the moral in both cases.


Most of the ep's other supporting players -- Launchpad, Admiral Grimitz, and the traitorous dork Ensign Plover -- are also in excellent form.  LP doesn't actually have all that much of substance to do, but whatever he does do is pretty much pure gold, starting with his using the top of Scrooge's rolltop desk as a miniature aircraft carrier...

... then carrying through to the classic "double-parkin' crash"...

... and finishing with flying the invisible jet...

Season the dish with such memorable lines as "What a sunset -- ya'd hafta get up pretty early in the morning to see a better one!" and "A net, and I don't mean Funicello!", and the viewer winds up getting an unexpected amount of bang for his McQuack buck here.  Speaking of bangs, Admiral Grimitz, while he's still suffering from "Spies in Their Eyes" "kablooey" syndrome here (although he does get a chance to experience the feeling from the other end of the gun, as it were), both behaves and is treated more like a legitimate naval commander.  The Navy saw fit to use Grimitz's carrier as the place to land the invisible jet, didn't it?  Would it have dared to do so if the Admiral were a complete stumblebum?  Not in the Reagan 80's, it wouldn't have.  As if to make up for his shabby treatment of the much-put-upon Seaman Duck in "Spies," Grimitz also acts a little bit more benignly, towards Donald here.  Donald's deck-swabbing penance is justified -- Launchpad and Scrooge did bring him back late, after all -- and Grimitz subsequently thinks highly enough of him to (1) have Don accompany himself and Plover during the lifeboat drill and (2) permit Don to actively participate in the missile exercise.  Even after both activities have ended in disaster for Grimitz, Donald is merely sentenced to peeling potatoes, which, according to Plover, Don was originally slated to do anyway.  The punishment could certainly have been a lot worse.

Greg pointed out that IMDB misidentified Ensign Plover as "Ensign Plummer."  In this case, the movie reference site has even less of an excuse to get things wrong than Disney Captions typically does.  Like Jack Lemmon's Ensign Pulver in Mister Roberts (1955), Mark Taylor's Plover is a callow, vaguely obsequious sort who "grows" in unexpected ways by the end of the production.  The problem is that one can "grow" in the manner of a weed as well as a flower, and Plover, like Taylor's infamous Dougie Benson of TaleSpin's "Louie's Last Stand," turns out to be a thoroughly bad egg -- a worse one than Dougie, in fact, since "Agent X" was presumably corrupted by The Blot long before he actually turned to the dark side and stole the jet.

Oh, Scrooge was in this, too, wasn't he?  I guess that the biggest contribution that he makes to the ep was... getting netted by The Blot?  That, or using some fishing paraphernalia to manipulate a "wonky-sounding" lever.  Take your pick.  The beauty part of Scrooge's presence is, of course, that he does not need to make a huge impression in order to, well, make an impression.  He is secure enough in his role as star of the show that he can gracefully step aside, accept a decidedly minor role, and allow others to shine.  There can be no better example of the depth of DuckTales' cast, and its ability to mix cast elements in an effective manner, than that.

But make no mistake, it's The Blot who steals the show from the moment we hear that raspy offscreen voice "calling Agent X."  I'm not one of those people who dislikes the reuse of The Blot even after the character had been unmasked in the original 1939 Floyd Gottfredson story.  It's not the ID of The Blot that matters so much as the quality of the opposition that he provides.  The portrayal of The Blot, especially in artistic terms, has been far less consistent over the years.  The original article was a hulking "man of mystery" who played for keeps despite never wanting to hang around until the death trap had been sprung.  The addition of long fingernails to The Blot's arsenal of menace on the cover of that first comic-book reprint may have been a slight exaggeration, but it was certainly an understandable one.



When Gold Key decided to let The Blot "return" to American comics in a 1964 WDC&S serial, the "mystery look," in particular the blank eyes, was retained:

The decision to give The Blot his own title -- yes, Western "went there" (as it did with The Beagle Boys) long before any superhero publisher decided to tribute a villain in this manner -- was accompanied by a slight "softening" of the character's appearance, in the form of pupils being added to his eyes.  It certainly wasn't as bizarre-looking as Harold Gray's giving Little Orphan Annie pupils late in his career, but it did have the residual effect of making The Blot seem a bit more like a conventional big-scheme villain, albeit one who has opted for an interesting choice of habiliment.

We're still a long way from the ravening-eyed, cackling Blot of "Deck" at this point... or are we?  By 1972, a cover artist for Brazilian Disney comics had stuck a smile on The Blot's cape, the first instance that I've been able to find of an artist treating the character as a kind of "shadow figure," as opposed to a man in a cloak.  Roger Armstrong introduced the grinning Blot to American comics when he teamed up with writer Mark Evanier on a couple of SUPER GOOF adventures in the mid-70s.  It's unlikely that any cross-pollination took place here, but, hey, you never know.  Before long, even longtime Mouse comics master Paul Murry had abandoned past practice (including all seven issues of the PHANTOM BLOT title) and had started to affix a smile to HIS Blot.

Some overseas treatments of The Blot got even looser and goofier than this in the 1980s.  In this 1984 French cover, The Blot has not only acquired a wide, gaping mouth, he appears to have hair growing out of his (cloak-covered??) scalp!  I don't know which is more "incroyable mais vrai" (incredible but true), the "flying kayak" at upper right or the mere existence of this image.

Most intriguing of all is the following cover to Brazilian MICKEY #454 (October 15, 1987).  Yes, you read the date right -- just a shade over two months before "Deck" had its premiere on December 30.  If that figure at lower right isn't a close relative of the "Deck" Blot, then I'll be gravely disappointed.  Can Frank Welker transpose that raspy Blot voice into Portuguese, by any chance?

Much more of this, and The Blot will become unrecognizable as that clever cloaked fellow from 1939 and will morph into something like a dusky devil-figure.  The Blot of "Deck," however, marks a spot where the trend of silly abstraction seems to have executed something of a U-turn.  Granted, we would still see an "exaggerated" Blot on occasion: for example, on Rick Hoover's classic cover to Disney Comics MICKEY MOUSE ADVENTURES #3 (August 1990)...

... but most modern stories featuring The Blot have returned to the classic, blank-eyed, clearly-cloaked version of the character.  It was this Blot that made such an impression in the wonderful Disney Comics two-parter "The Big Fall"/"A Phantom Blot Bedtime Story" (MMA #7-8, December 1990-January 1991)...

... surprised us by showing up in the modern TV shorts Mickey Foils the Phantom Blot (1999) and Mickey and the Color Caper (2002)...

... and (sigh) got slimed and sucked into God knows WHAT alternative plane of existence at the end of the "Dangerous Currency" arc that wrote finis to the Boom! Disney comics era.

While he may have been a logical result of various trends of artistic Blot-dom at the time of his one appearance, the Blot of "Deck" stands wholly alone as the only version of The Blot to not only break through the "fourth wall" into the world of "human" pop culture, but to smash the "wall" to smithereens in the process.  Did this Blot have a psychic pipeline to the future in his comparison of himself to entities like Darth Vader and Dr. Doom, both of whom are now "Disney properties," as the Disney version of Captain Hook has always been?  I don't know; perhaps we ought to do some surreptitious checking and see whether the Disney Company has sunk some of its capital into the purchase of vintage 1953 Buicks.

Needless to say, "All Ducks on Deck" is one DuckTales tale that has aged quite gracefully, even as its version of The Blot appears to have subsumed into the past.

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"DuckBlurbs"

(GeoX) Oh, yeah, anyway, the Blot tries to steal an experimental invisible plane--though the idea that he's going to somehow be able to RULE THE WORLD with this plane needs some fine-tuning.

This is one of the ep's few obvious flaws.  Had we gotten some detail about the jet's potential as a weapon of mass destruction, The Blot's confidence in its vital importance would have been slightly more justified.

(GeoX)  [The Blot] actually has comparatively little screen time, but his ranting IS entertaining to watch, and I have to admit, I was not expecting -- spoiler alert! -- for Grimitz's ass-kissing adjutant to be in league with him.

The remarkable thing is that Plover's heel turn (thanks, Greg) still came as something of a surprise despite the obvious Scooby-Doo "Economy of Characters" principle being in force (to wit: once it was learned that one of the characters was an enemy agent, it was obvious that it would have to be someone who had appeared during the episode).  I guess that Mark Taylor's "dork" act really WAS convincing.

 

(GeoX) Seems like the idea of the nephews stowing away in luggage is a bit ragged by this point…

Well, let's see: there was "Dinosaur Ducks," this episode, and... um... what am I missing?

(Greg) Quick logic break; when they do the pinball spot; the carrier actually nails the sharp rock in the middle; which would have caused a huge hole in the bottom of the carrier and the carrier would have sank; but it whizzed by as if it didn't hit the carrier at all. Bad, bad form there Wang Films.

Donald's tale-telling had the effect of "rubberizing" the carrier.  End of problem!

(Greg) Some Youtube users were suggesting that if TaleSpin ever continued into a second season that the Phantom Blot would make a great villain to replace Don Karnage (or at least give TaleSpin a really bad ass second main villain) and he would have all the one shot villains who lost to Baloo, Rebecca and Kit working for him to destroy Higher For Hire.

You know, if the TaleSpin High Flight project had lasted longer than it did, then I can easily imagine someone coming up with an idea like this.  It's hard to visualize The Blot as a kingpin ruling over a multitude of minions, though.  Typically, either he works alone or he has a very small group of associates assisting him.

(Greg) Louie claims that the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook even amazes them. Doesn't that kind of prove that the book is a crap shoot? Huey proclaims that they hope it never falls into the wrong hands. Don't worry; no sane person would ever touch that book with a ten foot pole.

It'd be kind of hard to blame what went wrong here on the Guidebook.  Donald just happened to hit the remote-controlled "shark" in the worst possible place, and Admiral Grimitz pocketed the missile homing device under the mistaken impression that it was a radio.

(Greg) Donald and the nephews grab flare guns and then begin shooting them. And folks; we finally have evidence of kids shooting guns in a Disney cartoon and this is as close as bullet shooting guns as you can get without being as such. The writers are going to have a long talk with BS&P after this episode airs. I wonder if Toon Disney cut this scene out?! 

No, in this case, I believe that they showed common sense.


(Greg) We then cut to Scrooge and Launchpad as Scrooge pops up and hits his head on the canopy and he wants LP to open it. Big mistake there Scroogie and he pushes the invisible button which commits logic break #2 for the entire episode as the GOOFS WITH ATTITUDE eject without the canopy being open; or glass shattering no less. 

You may have missed the canopy flying off to the right during the ejection sequence.  Good attention to detail there, as the canopy would naturally become visible once it detached from the invisible jet.

Next: Episode 64, "Ducky Horror Picture Show."