Showing posts with label Space Exploration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Space Exploration. Show all posts

Sunday, March 16, 2014

DUCKTALES RETROSPECTIVE: Episode 75, "Super DuckTales, Part Five: Money to Burn"

"Can ["Super DuckTales"] get any more overbooked?" asked Greg at the start of his review of "Money to Burn."  Paraphrasing Gizmoduck himself:  It CAN?  Yes, I guess it can.

Overbooked and, sadly, underedited.  The evidence that "SDT" was something of a rush job, which has been trickling in throughout the serial, pours out in a gush in this final chapter, in the manner of the "Lake Dobegon Money Dam" bust that climaxed "Liquid Assets."  Clearly at a loss as to how to stretch the "longest sustained Beagle Boy assault on Scrooge's money in history" (yeah, I'm allowed to swipe from myself) out to cover an additional 22 minutes, Ken Koonce and David Weimers execute the sire of all "swerves" by anticipating one of the future cardinal rules for Quack Pack writers: When in doubt, throw in a space alien.  In all honesty, the shift in focus does result in a fair amount of clever humor, not to mention a large number of much-appreciated sci-fi and pop-culture shoutouts, and it gives Scrooge, Gizmoduck, and Launchpad the only chance that they will ever have to share an adventure together.  Unfortunately, the Beagle Boys plot threads aren't "tied up" as much as they are balled up and tossed carelessly into the corner, as if the audience is expected to forget that the Beagles' takeover of Scrooge's mansion, subversion of Duckburg's justice system, and so forth ever happened.  This is considerably more insulting to the viewers' intelligence than the fuzzy "explanation" for the Beagles' sudden presence on Duckbill Island with Glomgold in "Ali Bubba's Cave."  The audience's patience is further tested by a series of events that are logically absurd even by the comparatively lax standards of a DuckTales space saga.  Marrying visual indifference to narrative laxity, Wang Films chooses this final chapter of the serial to "blow" its proverbial "fuse," littering our path with visual mistakes and obvious goofs that wouldn't have passed muster if the production had been subjected to normal quality control inspection.  The result is a climactic chapter that, while it's certainly memorable, can't honestly be classified as great, except insofar as it gives Fenton ample opportunity to prove his full worth as both himself and Gizmoduck.

The Scrooge-Launchpad-Gizmoduck troika turns out to be a winning combination, and I commend Koonce and Weimers' ability to keep the distinctions between the two original creations clear, much as "Three Ducks of the Condor" managed to perform a balancing act between LP and Donald.  We get a quick taste of this right off the bat, as the trio prepare to join the hordes of Duckburgians in search of the sunken Money Bin (which, lest we forget, sank in clear view a mere couple of hundred of feet off shore, but let's not visit that subject again).  Gizmo is all ready to make a bombastic pronouncement about the Ducks' impending investigation, but LP quite literally squelches him and directs him inside the sub -- a perfect reaction for a character who, despite his occasional bouts of braggadocio, is all about deeds, rather than words.

The peculiar use of a literal "space plane," the USS Jumpstart ("USS"?  Shouldn't that be "DSS," for Duckburg Space Ship, given that Duckburg has its own space agency?), provides the excuse for LP to serve as pilot during the Ducks' mission to track the alien robots who have made off with the Money Bin.  The Jumpstart, with its theoretically unnecessary clutch, wipers, and open-able windows, gets a sufficient amount of air time that I wonder whether K&W had the intention of bringing the craft back in some future episode.  If doing so would have allowed Launchpad to participate in another "adult teamup," then I would have been all for it.

On the robot planet, Gizmoduck, of necessity, does most of the fighting, but Launchpad does get one glorious moment to shine when he and Scrooge are attempting to launch the Jumpstart from the edge of the cliff.  When LP pushed the Jumpstart over the edge and hung onto the wing for dear life while waiting for Scrooge to pop the clutch, who wasn't thinking of the pilot's condor-back flight during "Three Ducks of the Condor"?  "Flyin' coach" was even more problematic here because LP had to figure out a way to get from the wing to the cockpit before the Jumpstart plunged into the lava (or molten metal, or whatever it was).  Given the structure of the Jumpstart, this feat would literally seem impossible, but, true to Scrooge's tribute at the end of "Launchpad's First Crash," LP finds a way to make the impossible possible. It's a moment of derring-do to rival anything we saw during the first season, and, Scrooge verbally acknowledges the fact after the two have flown to safety, as well he should.  It also marks the literal end of an era: it's almost literally the last time that Launchpad will be allowed to BE Launchpad, in the most dramatic sense, before the onset of the Darkwing Duck neutering process.     

We never do find out exactly what happened when Gizmoduck "pushed all his buttons" and destroyed Planet MEL.  This is actually a harbinger of sorts of what's to come insofar as Gizmo's battles are concerned.  Believe it or not, this is the last time that we will ever see Gizmo using his deadliest weapons (the "torsal torpedoes" and such) in any major manner.  His future missions will generally involve him using his flying abilities, extendable arms and legs, speed, and the occasional quirky gadget (e.g. the "microscopic handcuffs" that he intends to use on the Metal Mites), but missiles, rockets, and other explicitly military-style paraphernalia?  Not so much.  This is so remarkable that I have to wonder whether it was a conscious decision.  The production crew even seems to have become somewhat leery of Gizmo using gadgets in general; how many of the items pictured below ever made another appearance, even one in jest?

Gizmoduck's track record on the robot planet isn't spotless -- he did get walloped by that first bunch of robot guards -- but, before we're done, we just know that Launchpad, as is his wont, is going to trump any mechanical error of Gizmo's with a mental rock of his own.  This comes to pass when LP accidentally releases the Money Bin into Earth's atmosphere... and now the obsessed Scrooge, heretofore mainly a captive and/or ineffective kvetcher, gets his moment in the unfiltered rays of the Sun.  Of course, GeoX is correct in criticizing the "scientific research" that went into putting Scrooge's "space swim" together (though the truth of the matter turns out to be a little more complicated than one would think), but, given such conveniences as days-long trips to other planets (a la the speedy trips to and from Mars in "The Right Duck"), holes and doorways on spacecraft that don't cause air to be sucked into the vacuum, and the like, it's difficult to get too bent out of shape about it.  Besides, it sets up a really neat homage to Slim Pickens' missile-ride near the end of Dr. Strangelove (1964).

The reason for the Strangelove call-back becomes chillingly clear when the Bin lands back atop Killmotor Hill accompanied by a massive flash that looks for all the world like a nuclear detonation.  K&W seem to have assumed that, since no actual explosion was involved, none of the nearby buildings would have been destroyed.  I find that exceptionally hard to believe.  At the very least, the shock wave would have blown out all the windows in the area as surely as the baby Yeeker shattered all the Protectoglass at the conclusion of "The Unbreakable Bin."  A few of the flimsier buildings would probably have bitten the dust, as well.  Then there's the little matter of damage to the Bin itself.  Not even Scrooge's installation of a bin bottom with the toughness of a command module's heat shield (I guess that the events of "A Drain on the Economy" must have scared him into doing something about that vulnerability) would have prevented a structure that has been cracked and pierced by far less stringent shocks in the past from sustaining some massive trauma.  I mean, the force of the blow was strong enough to peel the highway off of its foundation like a bandage being pulled off a person's skin (leading to a particularly visceral form of Karma being visited upon the puzzlingly unpunished Beagles' heads).  If you asked me which climax was more outlandish -- the destruction of the Valley of the Golden Suns or the Bin's thunderous touchdown -- I might just pick the latter.


While the absurdities of "Burn" wind up burying the viewer's logical faculties as thoroughly as the displaced highway obliterated Ma Beagle's cottage, the serial's thematic continuity -- that of Fenton gradually realizing and taking full advantage of his own capacities -- did carry through in rock-solid fashion to the very end, completely independent of the planet on which the action was taking place.  After defeating MEL in the counting contest armed only with his wits ("no cracks about going into battle unarmed!") and returning to Earth, Fenton proceeds to take on two of his other personal demons, reading his lazy "M'Ma" the riot act and ginning up enough courage to ask Gandra Dee for a date that, as things turned out, hadn't previously materialized only because of his own lack of self-confidence.  The latter two scenes hit exactly the right emotional notes -- yes, even including the "facedown" scene in the trailer, which some elements of today's viewing public might regard as bordering on verbal domestic violence -- and allow us to exit with a smile on our faces, not to mention a sense of legitimate anticipation as to what challenges Fenton (as opposed to Gizmoduck) might have to take on in the future.

Tucked in between these moments, however, is the post-touchdown scene in the Money Bin, hereafter to be known as the "Two Somebodies (and I'm not kidding)" scene.  After Scrooge gives both Gizmoduck and his "friend" Fenton the promise of continuing employment...

... an ecstatic Gizmoduck exits the Money Bin above the watching figures of HD&L, Launchpad, and... Scrooge?!

One can only assume that "Scrooge 2" is the great-uncle of the notorious "fourth Nephew," Phooey Duck.  Come to think of it, that might help explain all of Phooey's appearances in the Duck comics.  Phooey feels so neglected by his ethereal elder (who, as far as I know, only appears in this one TV episode) that he tries to horn in on the legitimate fun whenever he can.  Needless to say, this visual gaffe ends up detracting somewhat from what should have been a much more powerful scene.

Likewise, it is difficult to become totally invested in the perils of the robot-planet ruckus (Good night, Vic, wherever you are.) when the animation continually performs the visual equivalent of tickling us under the armpits and making us laugh.  Start with one of WDTVA's worst examples of the "Conveyor Belt Of Doom," one rivaling even those seen in Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers' "Mind Your Cheese and Q's" and Bonkers' "Hand Over the Dough."  The problems go well beyond the one Greg mentioned regarding the contradictory directions in which the traumatizing treadmill is shown to be traveling.  Compare Scrooge and Launchpad's position on the belt upon initial placement...

... to their location a nontrivial amount of time later, AFTER Fenton and MEL have had their little enumerational extravaganza AND the revived Gizmoduck has taken out some robot guards:

I suppose that Scrooge and LP slipped into a wormhole in the interim.  (BTW, if they're supposed to be processed into "axle grease," then why are presumably worn-out robots being dumped into the melting pot as well?)  The Money Bin, incidentally, is handled in similarly dilatory fashion; while the framework of the "big machine" (RIP) is stripped and presumably destroyed before the end, the Bin itself is never wrecked or "blasted open," despite the robot workman's announcement that the robots are ready to do the deed before the Ducks are dragged in front of MEL.  While the Bin may not have been thoroughly cooked, it was certainly heated up to sauna-like levels at some point, as it seems to have been reduced in dimension by the time Gizmoduck rescues it and returns it to Scrooge:

The aliens' spacecraft undergo similar waxings and wanings in size.  The first shots of the salvage cruiser zeroing in on the sunken Bin -- bits that obviously take after the opening scenes of the original Star Wars -- suggests that the ship is quite massive:

During the salvage process (aka "The Parting of Duckburg Harbor"), however, the craft appears to have shrunk in size:

Hard to imagine a full-grown Money Bin fitting inside that thing, but it does.  In fact, it has a mechanical claw that literally reaches down, picks up the Bin, and lifts it into the hold.  (Mind you, this is the same Bin that supposedly couldn't be moved while all the money was inside, at least, not until the end of "Full Metal Duck.")  We "supersize it" again after the destruction of Planet MEL, with the alien ship dwarfing the captured Jumpstart...

... and literally covering the entire Duckburgian sky when it comes in for a landing... er, hover... after the Bin has landed.  Hammering home the sheer immensity of the huge ship, Gizmo and Launchpad descend to Earth in a massive elevator-like device that seems to have been inspired by Dune.

What subsequently happened to that gigantic spacecraft?  It had to come down eventually.  My own "headcanon" is that Scrooge's scientists then examined it, discovered the secrets of its operation, and applied them to other projects, ultimately leading to the Duckburg of Carl Barks' "Island in the Sky" at some point in the undefined future.  That would certainly take care of many of the lingering logical problems that I have with that Barks story.  It would also tie in nicely with the retrofitted backstory of Lost in Space that was provided by Bill Mumy in the comics adventure "Voyage to the Bottom of the Soul."

Aside from Fenton getting in touch with his potential for heroism of any sort, the major emotional breakthrough examined here is the maturation of Scrooge and Fenton's relationship.  In all honesty, this material could have been handled more artfully.  The issue I have with it isn't with Fenton's behavior so much as Scrooge's.  After Fenton has been stripped and revealed by MEL, Scrooge's comment about Fenton's "inferiority" probably pulls an automatic guffaw from most viewers, but it's actually out of place.  Granted, Fenton made quite a few goofs on the "Assets" side of the serial's ledger, but shouldn't Scrooge have considered that Fenton also has shown himself to be capable of controlling the Gizmosuit (including during a time period when he did not have access to the manual) and therefore must have something going for him?  A classic example of overreaching while going for a cheap laugh, says I.

While Scrooge and Fenton are being dragged away to what they believe to be a greasy fate, Fenton (no doubt thinking of that earlier "inferiority" remark) tries to convince Scrooge that he is worthy of the miser's trust, but Scrooge appears to have given up all hope.  Again, Scrooge's attitude is the problem here, especially given the parameters established in the TV series.  Has Scrooge forgotten so quickly that his "true wealth" consists of his family (cf. "Once Upon a Dime")?  Wouldn't he feel some sense of responsibility to keep fighting until the end for their sakes?  And wouldn't he appreciate the fact that Fenton is showing the kind of spirit that sustained Scrooge as a youth?  Remember how galvanized Scrooge became when similar points were brought up to him at his lowest ebb during "Down and Out in Duckburg." Why couldn't he bring such points to mind here?  At least Scrooge ultimately comes to acknowledge his errors and give Fenton full credit for coming through in the clutch.

If you're in a forgiving mood, Scrooge's uncharacteristically passive acceptance of his apparent fate here might be written off as a simple oversight, overlooked in the rush to get to the serial's climax.  The handling of the Beagle Boys, by contrast, is just plain sloppy.  They continue to be a part of the narrative in the opening moments of "Burn," commandeering a vessel to go and search for the Money Bin...

... but, after the aliens swoop in, the Beagles are quite literally overshadowed -- victims, along with Scrooge, of the robot craft's powers.

So now the police are going to recover their moxie and take the Beagles into custody, right?  Wrong!  The B-Boys are next seen sitting on Ma Beagle's porch and complaining about being bored.  No explanation is given as to what the legal status of their purchase of Scrooge's Mansion is, whether they are now wanted fugitives, or anything similar.  This could have been their first appearance of the serial, and it wouldn't have made any real difference insofar as their reactions were concerned.  You've heard of hand-waves; this is a veritable hand tsunami.  It's not an outright mistake akin to the problems that dogged the final chapters of "Time is Money," but it's something almost as offensive: It's writing that is contemptuous of its audience.

So where does "SDT" rank among the quartet of DuckTales four- and five-part adventures?  Safely behind "Treasure of the Golden Suns," to be sure, and safely ahead of the even more problematic "Time is Money."  That leaves a direct comparison with "Catch as Cash Can."  I suppose that I'd give the nod to "SDT" due to its sheer scope and the presence of Fenton, who, by and large, makes an extremely successful debut here.  But the call is a little closer than it would have been had I done this comparison back in the late 80s.  Entertaining as "The Birth of Gizmoduck" is and continues to be, the signs of lowering "Cartoon Duck Syndrome" seem rather more ominous now than they did then. 

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Bumper #10: "Dollar"
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"DuckBlurbs" 

(GeoX) Funny bit: as the robot boss [MEL] is claiming to be "the fastest, most sophisticated computer in the universe," it turns its head and you can see the port marked "VHF cable" on the back. 

MEL, of course, was a parody of yet another figure that (quite literally) flashed across the consciousness of America in the late 80's, namely, Max Headroom.  The irony is that the Max Headroom TV series involved a satire of a future dystopia, whereas here, MEL himself is the overbearing authority figure.  Unlike Max, MEL himself is real, rather than virtual, with the pixellated shenanigans being confined to the monitor in his head.

(Greg) The spaceship scans and then beeps white buttons on the bottom of the ship about 15 times and then shoots the laser as the sea parts completely from the ocean as Scrooge is shocked and swears in DUBBED ANIME STYLE (Holy Sesame! Disney Caption ignores this part by the way.)

Scrooge actually said, "Holy Cecil B. DeMille!  The ocean's parting!" referring to the famed parting of the Red Sea in DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1956).  The light-pattern on the ship's hull may also be a movie reference: think Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977).
(Greg) [W]e head inside and see Scrooge, LP and Gizmo Duck pop up from a metal railing and they watch on seeing metal cars in a line as this is really out of the Jetsons' motif now. 

Actually, given the nature of the civilization on Planet MEL, it's like something out of Mega-City One.

(Greg) We pan west to see behind the junkyard Gizmo Duck, Scrooge and Launchpad dressed up in disguises. Sadly; Scrooge's spats give away the cover right in advance. Then for no reason; we cut to them walking across a bridge with glass and metal. So they manage to get past the guards somehow? Logic break #3 for the episode.

Perhaps they waited until the guards marched into the complex and tagged along behind him, in the manner of Dorothy's friends in The Wizard of Oz (1939).  It's not as if Koonce and Weimers haven't swiped from that source before...

(Greg) Scrooge doesn't care how many names he calls [MEL] unless he gives Scrooge his money back of course. MEL no sells because his money is valued as a way to make useful robots. Scrooge calls it a waste which is funny projection considering who is with him now and all those other robots in previous episodes.

I think that Scrooge meant that it would be a waste to turn his money into parts for robots. 

(Greg) MEL breaks down as Fenton bails to the tray and takes one out for him to count and MEL counts them. Fenton calls it wrong because it's nuts instead of bolts. Which is irrelevant since he asked for ball bearings which is logic break #4 for the episode.

I know this was an error of sorts, but I have to applaud K&W for that clever callback to the interview scene in "Liquid Assets."
(Greg) Scrooge apologizes for his treatment of Fenton because it proves that it takes more than a suit of armor to become a hero. And this is why I like Fenton more than Drake because while both of them are full of themselves and REALLY STUPID; Fenton knows how to fold them when it is on the line a lot better than Drake Mallard ever could.

Two lines of Gizmoduck's -- "I am [a hero]?  Yes, I guess I am" and "You had a right to be upset" -- sum up the psychological difference between Gizmo and Darkwing about as well as anything ever has.

(Greg) So we head to the trailer park and Mrs. Crackshell's trailer as Fenton wheels into the trailer and proclaims that they are home to his mother. Mrs. Crackshell blows him off to be quiet as she is watching As The Feathers Fly. I guess she found a spare television from somewhere.

And if anyone could just simply "find a spare television," it would be her.

Next: Episode 76, "The Land of Trala [sic] La."

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

DUCKTALES RETROSPECTIVE: Episode 48, "The Right Duck"

In order to fully enjoy most comics and animated cartoons, some degree of "suspension of disbelief" is usually a necessity.  We don't expect the logic in shows about talking Ducks with bins full of cash to resemble that of the "real world."  (Of course, given how screwed up the world can appear to be sometimes, the simpler logic of cartoons and comics is frequently quite refreshing, especially when it's based on the works of a master storyteller like Carl Barks.)  BUT, even the most fanciful of animated confections has to pay at least some attention to wider reality.  That, in its essence, is the major beef I have with "The Right Duck," the closest DuckTales equivalent to Barks' own unfortunate extraterrestrial misfire, "Island in the Sky."

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I know that a number of folks (including some who haunt this blog) love "Island," and the story, considered strictly in context, is a fairly effective piece of sentimentality, with Scrooge demonstrating compassion for the humanoid aborigines onto whose Edenish planetoid the old miser originally planned to move his money for safekeeping.  It's the context itself that bothers me -- this whole notion that Duckburg has suddenly become this off-the-wall foreshadowing of The Jetsons.  At least in a story like "Monsterville," the "futurization" of Duckburg is carried out in a conscious fashion.  In "Island," it just springs into existence from nowhere in particular.  Where's the logic?

The situation in "The Right Duck" is slightly different, of course, arising out of a reasonable (if somewhat contrived) premise: Launchpad picks up on an offhand remark by Doofus and decides to become an astronaut to "prove to Mr. McDee what a great pilot [he is]." But Ken Koonce and David Weimers then proceed to throw literally everything they know, or SHOULD know, about space travel right out the window and produce a script that, in its basic level of intelligence and respect for its audience, resembles nothing so much as the "childlike scrawl" that LP submitted to the Duckburg space agency as an application.  GeoX's description of the resulting ep as "just plain dumb" seems a bit of an understatement, to be honest.  Given that K&W will put forth an infinitely superior parody of another film genre just two episodes down the road, the lack of care with which "The Right Duck" was slapped together seems infuriatingly mystifying.

In all honesty, the episode doesn't begin too terribly badly -- at least, once we get past the iffy reason for Scrooge's "firing" of Launchpad (note that Scrooge doesn't even originally look upset when LP runs out of gas and falls into the pool -- he only explodes after LP has safely emerged from the copter).  The "astronaut training" business is reasonably well grounded in the reality of what human astronauts have to face, so the slapstick gags resulting from Ronnie the chimp's sabotage (or, in the case of the G-force simulator, LP's attempt to turn the tables) are completely acceptable.  K&W slip up badly, however, when they have Dr. von Geezer suggest that drafting LP as an "idiot" pilot means that DASA won't have to send Ronnie into space.  Um, guys, the whole idea of having chimps as test pilots is to AVOID having to send humans into space in order to beta-test unproven aircraft.  Why would DASA have a vested interest in protecting Ronnie anyway?  Is he some sort of "superchimp" like the "simps" in Arthur C. Clarke's novel RENDEZVOUS WITH RAMA?


I don't think that K&W's choice of a name for Ronnie was a coincidence.  I suspect that they might have been referring to a certain future President who once starred opposite a chimpanzee, especially since Ronnie winds up ruling Mars after Emperor Ping the Pitiless has been kicked to the celestial curb.  The fact that the duo included an out-of-nowhere rib of George H.W. Bush ("Presidents have better things to do than play horseshoes!") in a TaleSpin episode ("Bearly Alive") lends further support to my hypothesis, I think.

The ep begins to fall fast, and hard, once LP and Doofus accidentally find themselves aboard a "Voyager probe" headed for Mars.  Even BEFORE the episode had presented us with the proposition of a stereotyped Martian civilization -- domed cities, green skins, antennae, and all -- I found myself tearing my hair out over K&W's complete and utter ignorance of what an unmanned space probe is supposed to look, behave, or move like.  I'm not talking about piddly stuff, such as the historical fact that the Voyager craft were originally sent to explore the outer planets and enter interstellar space.  No, K&W's "unmanned" probe has windows, seats, and a manual guidance system.  Even if you allow for the fact that the robot probe belched out of the "Voyager"'s vitals is meant to "collect data und specimens" and return them to Earth, there would be NO NEED WHATSOEVER for the DT "Voyager" to look like anything remotely resembling one of the Apollo spacecraft that went to the Moon.  (The really infuriating thing is that K&W's inclusion of the gags involving Von Geezer's recorded message suggests that they knew something about the details of the Voyager missions, so the silly simplifications may have been a result of willful neglect, as opposed to garden-variety benightedness.)  Even the real Voyagers didn't travel as quickly as their DT equivalent, the speed of which allows Doofus to crack that lame gag about possibly missing supper.  I mean, kids shooting off bottle rockets probably have more of a grasp of the elementary principles of space flight than K&W display here.

There's little I can say about DT's depiction of the Martians; it is every bit as cut and dried as that seen in the infamous Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (1964).  With the possible exception of the amusingly paranoid Ping the Pitiless, the sticky-fingered robot probe disgorged by the "Voyager" displays more personality than any other inhabitant of the Red Planet, surreptitiously swiping the clothes of the guards tasked with imprisoning it...

... and then showing out-of-the-blue consciousness by helping Launchpad, Doofus, and the "lifers" in "Ping's Pit for the Pitiful" to escape:

You just know that the wandering whatsit will figure in the ultimate defeat of Ping, which shows a good sense of continuity, if nothing else.  Would that K&W could have been as consistent in its depiction of Doofus' attitude towards Launchpad, which is supposedly the central character-based focus of the episode, but instead "morphs" more times than one of the energy beings from Salusasius Delta (don't ask).  Greg made several comments about this issue; let me go into a bit more detail concerning the various phases of the relationship:

1.  Doofus starts by backing LP's astronaut ambitions to the hilt, as you would expect.  Check out the quasi-rapturous look on Doofus' face in the opening DASA scene:

2.  When Von Geezer finally spills the beans about the reason for LP's employment, Doofus is more concerned with stopping LP from blasting off than with arguing over Von Geezer's description of LP as an "idiot."

3.  Doofus is "glad" that Launchpad is a "smart pilot" when the two get caught in the "Voyager" probe.

4.  Doofus reacts to LP's inept attempts to get them out of Ping's Pit by wondering aloud whether Von Geezer might have been right after all.

5.  Doofus encourages his "hero" to ride the Martian bomb-rocket back to Earth and "warn them about Ping's attack."

6.  Doofus channels Von Geezer in angrily explaining why LP got to be an astronaut in the first place.

7.  Doofus claims that Launchpad will save the day because he's "the best."

8.  Well, maybe not...  (Plug your ears!)

9.  Doofus proclaims, "I knew you'd come through!" when Launchpad locates the steering mechanism (again... on an unmanned rocket carrying a "thermonuclear detonator"??).

10.  The final embrace at the testimonial for Launchpad.

Doofus' "awful, passive-aggressive whining" may have been the single lowest point of all of this, but the overall lack of coherence is even more maddening.  It would have been better had the episode followed the template of, say, "Merit-Time Adventure" and kept Doofus in consistent "rapture" mode until stage 8., at which time Doofus' sudden loss of faith in his "role model," as inexpertly acted as it might still have been, would have had more of a meaningful impact.

Scrooge's brief role is, as intimated by GeoX, in unfortunate line with the ep's dumbness as a whole: the business involving him hiding valuables from a Martian invasion (wouldn't he have prioritized securing his Money Bin above all else?) is embarrassing.  Also, given that he apparently knows that Launchpad has taken a trip to Mars (his spies aren't just on Mount Vesuvius anymore, it would seem -- either that, or he finances DASA), Scrooge really ought to have considered the possibility that LP was responsible for the terrible "flying skills" displayed by the pilots of the Martian rocket.  Scrooge does get one fairly clever bit, though, when he channels the radio announcer from Orson Welles' War of the Worlds (1938) while describing the opening of the rocket hatch.

As Greg says, "The Right Duck" is certainly better than Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers' "Out to Launch," if only because it ISN'T a total snoozefest.  Its logic is equally as shaky, though the shambles probably could have been partially salvaged had Koonce and Wiemers deigned to do even a smidge more homework regarding space travel, had avoided falling back on lazy, out-of-date tropes about Mars, and had tried to characterize Doofus more in the "Hero for Hire" mode.  "The Right Duck" isn't a complete disaster; like an ultramarathon race who's just finished a race, it's just sort of lame all over.

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"DuckBlurbs"

(GeoX) [In] the training sequence[,] Launchpad is judged to be incompetent even though it's obvious that all of his "failures" are mechanical in nature and not remotely his fault...

This logical breakdown is most apparent during the "simulated space-walk in water" test.  Dr. V.G. and his assistant, looking down into the water as they are, should be able to see that Ronnie has deliberately sabotaged Launchpad's space suit.

(GeoX) Two Martians die offstage. Is this the first time death has occurred in a Ducktales episode? 

Interestingly, the on-screen death we'll be seeing in two eps' time also occurs in an episode played for laughs.  It's amazing what a difference some authorial care can make.

(Greg)  So we logically go to the space building which is called D.A.S.A. (Take one guess what the D stands for.) as the male receptionist greets him to the Duckb[u]rg Aeronautics and Space Administration. Basically N.A.S.A in Duckb[u]rg which is funny considering that this takes place in America according to Carl Barks' vision. I guess Duckb[u]rg has a local space program. Wonder if Scrooge had anything to do with it? Hmmmm...

See my comment above.  The notion that Duckburg runs some sort of quasi-independent space program has a long history: see, for example, Barks' story "Raven Mad" (WALT DISNEY'S COMICS AND STORIES #265, October 1962).

(Greg)  So we go to a shot of the planet Mars as the space rocket lands down and Doofus realizes that he will miss supper. Okay; we then cut to a far shot of the alien city as we cut to inside the throne room of the King of Mars as we see green dogspeople wearing purple outfits. Man; even the aliens are like humans only greener...  They spread out and form a line and then declare to their king who is a thinner dogsperson with the same purple outfit but with a red cape and a ruby crown on his head. I'm guessing the guards in question are Terry McGovern and Frank Welker. They call him Ping The Pitiless which absolutely sucks as a name and title. He is voiced by Ronnie Schell...

... and, Greg, you should immediately turn in your Canadian citizenship card for neglecting to mention that Schell was the voice of the immortal Peter Puck!  (BTW, "Ping the Pitiless" wasn't plucked out of thin air; it is a riff on FLASH GORDON's Ming the Merciless.)

 
(Greg) After the commercial break; we return to the building of DASA as we head to Mission Control with Von Geezer pacing back and forth while the rest of the science guys are on the computers are having heart to heart talks. I wonder: dogspeople are the smart ones; ducks are the unemotional ones and the pigs are just pigs. What's wrong with this picture?

I think that Duckburg's equivalent of the Fair Employment Practices Commission might find something wrong with the fact that ALL of the employees of DASA appear to be dogfaces.

Next: Episode 49, "Scroogerello."