The GUIDE Makes Me Perplexed

Five cogent comments on TV GUIDE's recently published list of "the 60 greatest cartoons of all time":

(1)  What, precisely, qualifies as a "TV cartoon"?  TVG doesn't seem to know.  Putting rebroadcasts of classic theatrical cartoons on the same "level" as made-for-TV series makes no sense, unless you're talking about things like the early-60s Popeye cartoons or The Bugs Bunny Show.

(2)  NO Disney Afternoon series???  Well, Disney has no one to blame but itself for that sad fact, given how little respect its video and PR divisions have shown for the marvelous products of the "WDTVA Golden Age."  I'm not going to grouse about the presence of Kim Possible on the list, but it's hard to countenance Phineas and Ferb making the cut but such series as DuckTales, TaleSpin, Darkwing Duck, and Gargoyles being left out.

(3)  There isn't quite as much "presentism" apparent in this list as I'd originally feared.  Sure, there's a clear overrepresentation of 21st-century series, but the inclusion of Huckleberry Hound, Yogi Bear, The Flintstones, and several other "old-screen" Hanna-Barbera favorites -- not to mention the evergreen Rocky and Bullwinkle -- should be at least somewhat gratifying to those of us of a certain age (including those who, like me, watched these shows in syndication).  Listing Scooby-Doo at #5 may be pushing things, however.

(4)  I'm a bit surprised at the lack of anime series on the list.  Not that I was seriously expecting Astro Boy or Kimba the White Lion to make the cut, but no Speed Racer?  No Pokemon?  No Sailor Moon?  The latter two omissions are particularly noteworthy -- and chilling.  I have in my mind's eye visions of San Diego Cons of 15 to 20 years ago, at which Poke-players and cosplaying "Moonies" were such a massive presence.  (Then again, people selling and collecting Pogs were also easily found at that time.)  Bronies are currently all kinds of excited over My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic's appearance on the list.  Let us hope that history does not repeat itself.

(5)  Jem and the Holograms... Thundercats...  He-Man.  The rest is silence.

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA: Episode 46, "The Return of Fancy Prancy"

It's been almost exactly eleven months since I announced this series of posts. We're headed down the home stretch with only seven episodes to go. Six of them are good to outstanding. Unfortunately, we first have to vault over this stinker in order to get to them.

Like "A Friend in Deed," "The Return of Fancy Prancy" seems to be radically out of place in the "official" Kimba episode order. The Kimba we see here is explicitly presented as a juvenile, but that's not the worst of it. The jungle prince's authority over the other animals also seems to be in a nascent stage, which it clearly should not be by this time. In no other episode are Kimba's prerogatives as jungle leader repeatedly questioned on the basis of youth and (apparently) nothing else. Even when Bucky scolded "pupil" Kimba at the end of "The Troublemaker," he qualified his disciplinary action by saying that Kimba was a wonderful leader in spite of his behavior. Here, by contrast, Bucky is among the characters who give Kimba the "hey, kid, stay off my lawn!" treatment. To say that such an attitude doesn't ring true at this stage of the game is to state the obvious.

Unfortunately, Kimba comes off nearly as badly as some of his subjects here. As the jungle community tears itself apart following the homecoming of the "citified," self-absorbed Prancy Cheetah, Kimba essentially stands aside and lets it happen... at least, until he washes his paws of the whole mess and goes off to sulk in his lair. Then, when an invading army of ants threatens the safety of the jungle, Kimba basically pooh-poohs the disappearance of one of his best pals. To accept this level of indifference from the hero of "Jungle Thief" and "Dangerous Journey" is to demand the absolutely impossible. To be sure, Kimba redeems himself in a grand spasm of last-minute valor that manages to nudge this ep over the "low bar" of "Running Wild," but it's hard to ignore what came before. Internal evidence suggests that the Titan crew dubbed this episode sometime in the Summer or Fall of 1966; I wouldn't be surprised if they were a little taken aback at its profoundly retrograde approach.

Watch episode on AnimeCrazy

The kids' tree game (with no apparent safety precautions -- tsk tsk!) immediately alerts us to the fact that we're in "Kimba the Kid" mode. Perhaps the tykes are also playing "Character Mash-Up" in that Dot suddenly has a masculine voice, Wiley Wildcat has changed his name to Lynxie, and, most significantly, Dash is taking the role of "Speedy Cheetah" for the duration. Perhaps I should call Wiley "Wynxie" and Dash "Spash" the rest of the way?

It's a shame that Sonia Owens had to waste her delightful Southern accent (for Prancy) in an ep like this. Might the accents of Prancy and her former owner indicate that Prancy was brought up in... South Africa? (Ba-dump-bump!) Prancy's ex-missus makes a clear reference to the movie Born Free, hence my remark about "internal evidence" above.

Strange that "Wynxie" should be the character complaining about Prancy epitomizing a "citified" wild animal. If anything, Kimba, with his extensive experience in the human world, should have been the one to make that comment. But then, Kimba seems almost willfully obtuse in the early stages of this episode.

The old definition of a "Southern belle" as "a bulldozer disguised as a cream puff" certainly applies to Prancy. What's more, Prancy's wilfuness immediately appears to rub off on "Spash," who commences his own nose-in-the-air routine. It is this one-off moment, we'll ultimately learn, that apparently convinces Kimba that "Spash" deserves to be bitten to pieces by the ants. But did "Spash" actually do anything specific to rate such treatment?

Scarlett O'Hara would probably have killed for the "powers" that Prancy starts to exert once she determines that she wants to live in her own home. Holding a mystical attraction for other leopards/cheetahs/?? is one thing, but Prancy's "siren song" proves to be irresistible to other animals as well. Even if you grant that he was partially under Prancy's sway at the time, Rapid Cheetah's angry demand that "you kids" abandon the tree is exceptionally maladroit, just begging for a forceful Kimba to set things right. Kimba, instead, folds up like an accordion at a single wink from Prancy. Then, Kimba quietly acquiesces in Dan'l's decision to try to settle the bad feelings kicked up by Prancy's presence himself. Is Kimba a lion or a RINO in this episode?

The jungle's division into pro-Prancy and anti-Prancy factions is no doubt the silliest internal conflict that Kimba's kingdom ever experiences. Dan'l's claim to Kimba that "This is bigger than the both of us!" is, however, even more laughable. This situation is just screaming for something akin to the "open your borders some of the time" resolution of the Speed Racer episode "The Fire Race," yet Kimba refuses to exercise even the faintest sign of leadership -- passing over in silence Bucky's numbskulled comment about not getting involved in "grown-up matters," letting himself get dragooned into Dan'l's army, and finally blowing the whole conflict off with a childish "I don't wanna fight." He gets one final chance to put his paw down and stop the madness when Dan'l comes to tell him that he's been selected to face Rapid Cheetah in the "trial by combat," but he passes it up. We don't get a single "breakdown moment" akin to the one that disfigured "Running Wild," but this "death by a thousand cuts" is almost more distressing.

The dramatic ant invasion -- accompanied by a legitimately creepy musical motif that wouldn't have seemed out of place in a 1950's sci-fi movie -- gets everyone back on the same page. Even here, though, Kimba just seems like "one of the guys," cowering in the tree along with all the other animals. Strangely, everyone seems to be concerned with saving themselves, while the danger to the farm is not mentioned. Wouldn't this threat to the farm be just as dire as "The Insect Invasion"?

Prancy finally acquires some lovable qualities (those not impregnated into others by song, that is) when she panics over the absence of "Spash." Alas, we then get the painful sequence in which Kimba essentially writes poor "Spash" off. Dan'l's wrong; this is far worse than simply being "snooty." Indeed, Kimba probably deserves a brisk thwacking here even more than he did in "Running Wild." This whole sequence ONLY works if one posits the Kimba of "Fancy Prancy" as a very tentative, inexperienced leader who has not yet internalized the important truth that every animal under his rule deserves to be protected, no matter what the cost or risk may be.

To his credit, Kimba clambers over the "tipping point," sees the light, and just as quickly clambers down the rock face to rescue "Spash." A dramatic scene, and well played by Billie Lou Watt, who is in superb form the rest of the way... but again I ask, what is this "Road to Damascus" moment doing so late in the series?

The "salvation by burial" scene was also cadged from the manga; it was Kitty doing the burying and an unconscious (and considerably older) Kimba serving as the bury-ee. For me, however, the ultimate comics version of this scenario will always be from this story. (Oddly enough, in Episode 48, "The Red Menace," Kimba and his friend Pee-Wee the elephant brave a fiery ordeal similar to that faced by Donald and the boys. In that situation, however, they are more passive would-be victims than anything else.) Kimba's dramatic leap from the precipice -- with the ants trailing behind like so many spooked antelope -- almost makes up for his poor showing earlier in the ep. Almost, but not quite. It'll take more than one bath to wash that particular stink off.

The precise location of the reunion scene is a lot more confusing than it needs to be. Since Prancy locates "Spash" right away, we're presumably back in the jungle, at the place where "Spash" was buried. Kimba's "return" and Dan'l's claim that Kimba is "coming back," however, suggests that Kimba returned to where the rest of the animals had been waiting. So what happened? Did all the animals come back to the jungle, or did Kimba come back to them? This problem is present at the creation, not a product of Titan dubbing, so I don't know how it could have been repaired.

I have to admit, I got a chuckle out of the concluding bicker-thon between Dan'l and Prancy. Having met the Owenses, I can appreciate how far OUT of character this was for them. It does rather queer the mutual forgiveness of the previous scene, though. But, then again, it seems fitting that this particular "chamber piece" should end with a blown note. From here on in, though, Kimba will make plenty of sweet, sweet music.

Up next: Episode 47, "The Cobweb Caper."

It's a Titan Crew Christmas! THE FLYING HOUSE, Episodes 1 and 2

The Flying House (1982-83) represents the "last bow" of the crew of talented voice professionals who brought us Astro Boy and Kimba the White Lion. It's at once a "sequel" of sorts to Superbook and a "leap forward" from that earlier series, both aesthetically and thematically. Indeed, I think it's one of the better animated series of any stripe from its early-80s time period -- a pretty fallow period, to be sure, but there's a considerable amount of entertainment value to be found here.

The "blowback" that Superbook received for thrusting its young protagonists directly into Old Testament storylines -- a backlash that led to the rejiggering of the series' premise into what I consider to be an inferior format -- evidently dissipated very quickly. One would think that, if making modern-day interlopers prime movers in Old Testament tales were a no-no, then doing the same with the story of Jesus Christ and His ministry on Earth would be absolutely verboten, especially for a show telecast on the CHRISTIAN Broadcasting Network. CBN bigwigs, however, evidently decided that it was "no big" for bungling Professor Humphrey Bumble's (Hal Studer) time machine to transport Justin Casey (Billie Lou Watt), Angela Roberts (Sonia Owens), and Corky Roberts (Helena van Koert) into "extremely close and incredibly extensive" contact with Jesus and His disciples. Fer corn sakes, when the gang lands in ancient Israel, the shepherds immediately mistake Justin for the Messiah... and the interaction only "ramps up" from there. I think we really have to salute CBN for its open-mindedness in sanctioning this show for American consumption. Put it this way: I rather doubt that a similar show depicting young Middle Eastern children traveling back in time to hobnob with Mohammed will be appearing on Al-Jazeera anytime soon.

The series' first two eps, "Blast off for the Past" and "Star-Spangled Night," introduce us to the characters and take us through the events of the Nativity and the flight to Egypt.  Go to the CBN Web site and enjoy, and we'll touch base on the "other side."

.

.

.

The flaws of The Flying House are present at the creation (sorry if I'm mixing Testaments on you there). You hear many of the same basic musical themes over and over and over again in episode after episode, which gets real old real fast. Yeah, I know that the earliest Disney TV series used stock music as well, but nowhere near as unimaginatively as The Flying House tends to. I'm also sorry to say that the annoying Corky doesn't improve that much upon further acquaintance. But the characterization of the robot SIR (George Gladir) is a distinct improvement upon that of Superbook's Gizmo, and Professor Bumble provides a humorous adult presence that Superbook did not have. Professor Peeper's prickly relationship with his son Christopher in Superbook may have given the adult-child relationships there an extra layer of realism, but Peeper could not be classified as endearing by any stretch of the imagination. Professor Bumble, by contrast, with his innocently inflated ego and deviated-septum-influenced voice, is a hoot. Here is where Hal Studer really came into his own as a good voice actor.

Though it's not apparent in these first couple of episodes, The Flying House also took some interesting stylistic chances in its narratives. Entire episodes were devoted to "expanded versions" of Jesus' parables, and, as if to emphasize the "story within a story" nature of these tales, the parables were generally animated in a highly stylized, almost two-dimensional fashion. In many cases, the look was almost that of a more serious version of Jay Ward's Fractured Fairy Tales.

The Flying House's core voice cast of Watt, Ray Owens (the adult Jesus), Studer, van Koert, and Gladir is supplemented by a rotating group of old pros that includes Gilbert Mack, Corinne Orr, and Peter Fernandez. (I suppose that this is why Hal Erickson, in his slightly sniffy entry on The Flying House in TELEVISION CARTOON SHOWS, complains that the show's supporting players, in particular the antagonists, tend to sound like Speed Racer villains.) Billie Lou Watt's "Astro Boy/Kimba" voice for Justin is getting a bit on the thin and strained side by this time, and van Koert's Corky will occasionally "scrootch" your inner ear with his wailing, but, by and large, the voice performances are sturdy enough. Amazingly, no end-of-show credits are given for writing, voice-acting, or anything else, for that matter -- a serious oversight, but certainly no more of one than the absence of any reference whatsoever to the show's New Testament setting in the opening sequence (which would have been a "title sequence" had a title card actually been shown at any point).

All 52 Flying House episodes are available for viewing on CBN's Web site. Give them a look!

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA, Episode 33: "Jungle Justice"

Here is the literal antipodes of last week's "The Last Poacher" -- the Kimba episode that eluded my grasp longer than any other. In fact, I don't believe that I ever saw it until I purchased The Right Stuf's Kimba box set.

I'd like to report that this "last dram of the coconut milk" was a hidden masterpiece, but, in all honesty, it's a pretty cut-and-dried, no-frills ep -- with one significant caveat. After the series has already lavished all sorts of attention on Kimba's attempt to supersede the age-old "Law of the Jungle" and establish the rule of something close to "human law" in the jungle, "Jungle Justice" pops out of the brush and delivers a big ol' raspberry to the very notion of such a hifalutin' scheme actually succeeding. Despite Kimba's efforts to give the arrogant, decidedly unlikable "special guest hippo" Clunker (Gilbert Mack, reusing his voice for Billy Bully and Big-O the Bad Baboon) a literal "fair trial" after the latter is accused of spiriting away little Harold Heron (Billie Lou Watt), the "courtroom scene" dissolves into indecorous chaos, to which Kimba himself ultimately lends a paw or three. Moreover, Kimba's Perry Mason-esque last-second presentation of some new evidence (1) doesn't stop the degringolade and (2) only becomes available in the first place because of Kimba's survival of a "trial by combat" in a neighboring jungle. If martinis were as well-mixed as the messages here, then we'd probably all be barflies.

Link to episode at Hulu

Watching the visually impressive opening storm scene makes me wish that more episodes had centered on the animals' being faced with challenges posed by nature itself, rather than some human or beast with malevolent intentions. The storm merely serves to set up the ensuing action, but it's an eye-grabber -- and don't forget Kimba's rescue of the helpless chipmunk; you'll see something similar, and rather more significant, a bit later.

At 3:45, after the Herons mention Clunker for the first time, we abruptly move forward in time to Clunker's trial, and... wait, Dan'l is ALREADY prepared to pass sentence on the recalcitrant hippo?! First strike against the judicial system. True, Dan'l wanted Kimba to let "The Law of the Jungle" take its course as far back as "A Human Friend," but surely he's learned to accept Kimba's more humane way of handling things by now, else he wouldn't have been put in charge of the trial in the first place. But Kimba only just now begins to act as Clunker's de facto attorney, so I guess that Dan'l has been taking the Red Queen's advice on how to supervise a trial.

Hippo Boss (Ray Owens, at least this time around) is an interesting sort of "tweener" character. He's not nearly as antagonistic towards Kimba as Boss Rhino, or as hard-headed as Kelly Funt, but neither could he be considered an actual ally of Kimba's. Mostly, he and the other hippos simply want to be left alone. We'll learn in "Legend of Hippo Valley" that the hippos have a distinct set of mores and taboos that have been in operation since long before Kimba, or even Caesar, came to the jungle, and of which even Kimba seems to be ignorant. Here, however, Hippo Boss' laid-back approach to "internal discipline," which might not have amounted to much trouble had it been kept "in-house," has had a "slopover effect" that now threatens the peace of the rest of the jungle. I'd like to believe that Hippo Boss took this as an indication that he needs to be more cognizant of the wider world, but, as we'll see in "Legend of Hippo Valley," the lesson didn't stick for very long.

After watching Harold Heron and "squadron" in action, I'm almost prepared to grant Clunker a pass on that revenge business. "Harmless prank," my tail feathers. Of course, Clunker quickly boots away whatever sympathy he has engendered by stubbornly refusing to own up to his obvious dread of thunder and lightning. It's already clearly evident that Clunker, for all his big talk, doesn't have the internal workings to do anyone in, even an annoying pipsqueak with a bent for attempted asphyxiation.

"The Top Rungle Jungle" sounds more like a Speed Racer place-name than a Kimba place-name to me. It also sounds like a more "upwardly mobile" version of Kimba's jungle, a place where the "best of the best" animals congregate... which spells trouble for the citizens who occupy the lower rungs, like the chipmunk for whom Kimba does a good turn. The burly hippo King Blackbrows (Ray Owens) certainly evinces a superior attitude, as he insists that Kimba fight and beat him before he's willing to give Hilda Heron (Sonia Owens) "permission" to deposit her evidence. (So who gave Hilda "permission" to leave the jungle during the storm in the first place?) It's tough to know how to parse this scene. Despite the mocking laughter and the tough-guy persona, I don't get the impression that Blackbrows is really all that antagonistic towards Kimba; he is merely following what I assume is "standard jungle policy." Could this be an ironic comment on Kimba's determination to fashion his own jungle in a more humane image? If Kimba is allowed to do that, after all, then what's to prevent another jungle from charting out its own course? After our favorite white lion plays Androcles and he and Blackbrows are saved from the monster vines (man, even the plants in this jungle have an attitude!) by the "Gang of Fang," Blackbrows suddenly goes all "nice guy" on us, even asking Kimba to make a return visit someday. Somehow, I don't blame Kimba for letting that invitation die on the (monster?) vine.

No sooner does Kimba secure and present his evidence, of course, than the carefully constructed "legalistic web" that the animals have constructed to adjudicate such disputes falls apart, and everyone commences to a-fightin'. Note that, for all the yelling and threats, it is Kimba who literally strikes the first blow when he pitches into the hippos, so he's anything but an innocent bystander in this case. I gather that we're supposed to regard Harold's sudden reappearance and the ensuing reconciliation between the herons and the hippos as a "happy ending," but it is "happy" only in the strictly negative sense of not being "sad." Quite the cautionary tale, isn't it?

Up next: A KIMBA two-parter! Episodes 34 and 35, "Jungle Fun" and "The Pretenders."

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA, Episode 30: "Adventure in the City"

It's logical that Kimba WOULD wince when he thinks of this episode. Along with the (far inferior) "Running Wild" and "The Troublemaker," this is one of the few times that Kimba can be said to have had a "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day." He's not the only character who's off his feed. Uncle Specklerex follows up on the heels of a powerful debut performance with a peevish, irritating, bull-headed turn as a prideful elder who gets Kimba, Kitty, and Pauley into all sorts of trouble when he comes to visit Kimba's jungle. Kitty suddenly becomes a scold in what Bob Thing theorizes is a clever, elaborate attempt to "break" Kimba (sort of a distaff-powered reversal of the scenario of THE TAMING OF THE SHREW) but which plays out as a major turn-off, especially given the specific circumstances, which make Kitty out to be an ungrateful airhead. Even the three one-shot humans who play major supporting roles carry with them some "dreadful secrets," which duly come out at the end and provide a mostly humorous, slapstick-filled episode with a real "barb in the tail." Despite all this, "Adventure in the City" is a fun, if somewhat sloppy, ep to watch, in the manner of one of the better episodes of Goof Troop or Bonkers (and yes, such creatures certainly did exist).

Link to episode at Hulu

I guess Uncle Specklerex didn't "apply himself" to "learn[ing] anything new" after "Journey into Time." Instead, he's trying a different approach to "prove himself" to Kimba -- an entirely negative one. First run down Kimba's "clean" and "peaceful" jungle, then bait the supposedly "unadventurous" younger lion into a contest. This is actually rather ironic, given the time at which Kimba was produced, the era of the 60s youth rebellion.

Kimba tries too hard to make himself look bad; who knows but what that vicious blow to the head caused the subsequent "brainfart" of jumping over the river? In any event, a resentful, embarrassed Kitty cuts Kimba precious little slack for his error. Just wait, she gets worse...

Specklerex continues to try to overcompensate for his advanced age by playing "Macho Lion" with the visiting Don Free (Ray Owens) and Arthur Scott Free (Gilbert Mack), then pressing the point by following them to "the city." I don't believe that this is the city where the young Kimba came ashore in "The Wind in the Desert," for reasons which will become clearer later. This place is clearly very close to the jungle; witness the suddenly-appearing paved road, not to mention how quickly the animals, even Specklerex, make it to town just using their pawsies.

Kimba puts his paw in his mouth when he criticizes Uncle S for going to the city; he should surely know by now that, for all of Specklerex' faults, Kitty has "a lot of respect" for her aged relative. But in the string of "comically unnoticed perils" that follows, Kitty should obviously know that she's being menaced at SOME point; after all, she cries out when the (narcissus-related?) vine grabs her and even speaks to the menacing snake. This isn't the scene in DuckTales' "Sweet Duck of Youth" in which Scrooge wanders through the swamp, completely clueless as to the lurking menaces. It's as if Kitty expects Kimba to save her as a matter of course (perhaps she doesn't think all this counts as a "crisis"?). Sorry, but this scene doesn't really work for me, even as a gag.

"And I said tie them together with a sheepshank, not a bow knot!"

Kimba continues his "anti-roll" by knocking over the garbage can and alerting the municipal carabinieri, or whatever they are, and we subsequently begin a very long slapstick pursuit sequence triggered by (1) Scott Free's fearful reaction to the lurking Mr. Trailer (Ray Owens) and (2) Specklerex' understandable unfamiliarity with the idea of a train. This train ultimately leads to the coast and, presumably, the city where Kimba actually did wash ashore. Perhaps this is a commuter train of some kind connecting the inlands with the coast.

The run-in with the signal tower must have croggled Kimba's brains once again, for he subsequently commits arguably his biggest sin of the episode -- going along with Pauley's decision to commandeer the truck. So what if the frightened driver (Gil Mack) decides to bail out and leave the animals behind?... oh. Cue the Speed Racer-style daredevil action, except it comes complete with an anthropomorphized vehicle. I wonder why Pops Racer saw fit to give the Mach 5 underwater driving capabilities but didn't include the "shake dry" option. I also wonder why so much animation was recycled in this scene, right down to the grass blowing back towards the windshield. Surely a few additional "bad driving" gags could have been created for the purpose? Even with all the repetition, there is some well-sculpted slapstick timing on display here, almost as good as the geometrically precise chase gags seen during TaleSpin's "The Golden Sprocket of Friendship."

I really wish that Mr. Trailer's "statement of purpose" had been left unspoken until what we now suspect will be a "big revelation" scene at the end. It wouldn't have been too difficult to have maintained the suspense as to why Mr. Trailer was so adamant about catching the elder Free, or why Scott was so determined to dodge him.

All things considered, Specklerex gets off fairly lightly for causing all this trouble; why, he even enjoys a breath of fresh air and a refreshing drink (or six). He also gets to vent his rage on the hapless humans once he gets free on the boat. (Nice continuity with "Journey into Time," BTW, in Don Free's comment that spotted lions are extremely rare.) Kimba is a bit rough on the humans himself, but he really had very little choice and was even thoughtful enough to apologize after the fact.

After Specklerex invades the Frees' remarkably huge cabin (check that overhead shot!), the slapstick abruptly stops and the ep turns deadly serious. Even the Frees' reaction to the lions' ability to speak is more of a sincere astonishment than the quasi-comical "A g-g-g-g-ghost!"-like reaction of the truck driver. After Don Free oddly teases a "return engagement" that will never take place -- was the Titan crew doing a CYA here, just on the off-chance that Don Free was "supposed to be" Roger Ranger?? -- we get a decidedly bittersweet payoff to the Free-Trailer conflict. Yes, Mr. Trailer is satisfied that Scott admitted his guilt -- and, by so doing, pulls an Inspector Javert, Inspector Gerard-like last-second turnaround -- but what kind of fallout will ensue from the fact that Don now knows the truth? In a sense, I'm glad that the ep didn't show Don forgiving his Dad. Sometimes, it's better to avoid the pat ending and let the audience imagine what will happen in the future. That's what makes for thought-provoking TV.

The ending scene with Kimba, Kitty, and Uncle S has a somewhat "tacked-on" feel, and it's not clear that Uncle S has completely learned his lesson -- after all, he still has SOME pride -- but that doesn't detract from an enjoyable watch.

Up next: Episode 31, "City of Gold."

A SUPERBOOK SIESTA: The Titan Crew Return in an Early-80s Bible-Themed Anime Series

I knew nothing about Superbook (or its sequel-of-a-sort series, The Flying House) until I met Ray and Sonia Owens in the mid-90s. The Owenses were living in Virginia Beach at the time, and that city, as you may know, is the headquarters of the Christian Broadcasting Network. CBN, working in tandem with Tatsunoko Studios -- the animation outfit that created Speed Racer -- originally created Superbook to proselytize Japanese families and teach them about the Bible. The show wended its way to many other countries as well, premiering in the U.S. in early 1982, and is still in circulation in numerous places. It's also been updated in CGI format (not too well, I'm told).

Reconstituted as Echo Productions, the Superbook production team reunited four of the five performers who'd worked on Astro Boy and Kimba all those years ago: Billie Lou Watt, her husband Hal Studer, and the Owenses. Only Gilbert Mack was not part of the rotation, and he still made occasional guest appearances. The Owenses' daughter, Helena van Koert, took Mack's place. Other "Americanized anime" hands such as Peter Fernandez and Corinne Orr pitched in on occasion, making Superbook a delightful audio mashup of some of the most beloved anime series of the 60s.

In its first season, Superbook's structure was pretty basic: "Typical kid" Christopher Peeper (Billie Lou Watt) and his friend Joy (Sonia Owens) are whisked by the magical "Superbook" (the Bible) to various events in Biblical history, mostly drawn from the Old Testament. The kids, accompanied by their "guardian robot" Gizmo (Helena van Koert) -- who started life as one of Chris' toys (does that really make any sense?) -- interact with the Biblical heroes and play roles (sometimes shockingly significant ones) in the unspooling of many famous tales. The high degree of interaction between the kids and the Biblical figures must have made some people at CBN nervous. The second season completely rebooted the concept: now, Chris and Joy stayed at home and watched on a computer as Gizmo, Chris' dog Ruffles, and Joy's little brother, who'd been magically sucked into the past by some unholy combination of spiritual might and computer snafu, wandered around ancient Israel while "true-life Bible stories" were taking place elsewhere. I never found this revised concept to be convincing, even in such a highly fanciful context. The Flying House, which concentrated on the New Testament and the story of Jesus, returned to the "direct interaction" approach and stuck with it -- with considerable success.

You can see "sanctioned" clips from season one at CBN's Superbook Classic Web site. I'll just note a few additional points here:

(1) As you might expect, Billie Lou uses her Astro Boy and Kimba voice for Christopher Peeper. It's a little raspier than it used to be, but still immediately identifiable. What amuses me about its use in Superbook is that Chris is not exactly your standard goody-two-shoes kid. He feuds constantly with his Dad, the persnickety Professor Peeper (Ray Owens), and cannot always be trusted to do the right thing right away. I find it funny to hear that voice used, if not exactly for evil, then certainly for something other than unalloyed good.

(2) Sonia Owens' Joy sounds W-A-Y too much like an adult woman. The Titan/Echo crew were caught between a rock (Simon Peter?) and a hard place here; Sonia's voice for Kitty would have sounded too cutesy, Billie Lou also had difficulty doing convincing young-female voices, and Helena Van Koert apparently couldn't come up with a compromise voice. The Flying House, which also has a young girl as a main character, falls victim to the same problem.

(3) I'm currently watching streaming vids of The Flying House, and, to be honest, it is superior to Superbook in virtually all aesthetic particulars. The scripts (which were done by our friends at Titan/Echo in both cases) are better, and the draftsmanship is vastly better. Superbook, however, seems to be much more fondly remembered for some reason. Maybe it's because of the simple charm of the original concept. I'll be getting to The Flying House before long and will elaborate on the comparison at that time.

UP NEXT: We return to KIMBA with Episode 27, "The Chameleon who Cried Wolf."

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA: Episode 26, "A Revolting Development"

We're finally halfway through the series, so here are a few "midpoint musings" before I proceed:

(1) I've had a lot of fun writing these. I hope it shows.

(2) I will soon be "cutting back" to one episode per week as the Fall semester nears. My original hope was to get done by the end of 2011, but I don't think I'm going to make that deadline. This is no problem, however; whatever DuckTales 25th anniversary matter I post (I haven't decided as to its nature yet) wouldn't launch until the Fall of 2012.

.

.

.

"A Revolting Development" is an extremely frustrating episode -- an episode that could have been SO much better had things been "boiled" a bit more thoroughly. Granted, it's great to finally get some closure on one of the series' main themes, namely, the animals' search for some palatable, humane alternative to meat-eating. The method of closure, while relying heavily on "overly convenient" happenstances, is reasonably clever and satisfying. The episode's illogical portrayal of Claw, Cassius, Tom, and Tab, however, knocks the ep out of any chance at top-, or even middle-, -drawer status. Not only are the perpetual villains cast in a role that would NEVER be accepted by the most naive subject of Kimba's kingdom, much less Kimba himself, but they actually punt on a chance to dispose of Kimba once and for all... and, would you believe, they do so on the request of a zany one-shot character! These problems were present in the original script, and the Titan crew can't do much to fix them, try as they might.

Link to episode at Hulu

The "skip-to-my-lou" opening sequence is the sort of thing that we'll be seeing quite a bit of in future episodes featuring "jungle cubs" Dot, Dash, and Dinky (here, joined by Speedy Cheetah and... a giant ground squirrel? Does Sandy Cheeks know about this?). The difference here is that Kimba cuts the fun and games short to... go and do jungle-prince business, I suppose. In many of those later episodes, he will maintain a cub's POV and reactions for a good deal longer than this. The offhand reference to a cub's being named "Doozy" is a gaffe.

Wouldn't you know that a zebra (Stripes = Ray Owens) would be the one to exploit the hitherto-unexplored "loophole" that allows herbivores in Kimba's kingdom to insult carnivores with impunity? One can hardly blame goofy Uncle Beetle (Gilbert Mack, apparently channeling Ed Wynn) for regarding the "kick-off" as an insult to members of the cat family (which apparently includes giant squirrels for the duration). Of course, to insult an elderly, stumble-prone lion with the longest set of bangs in or out of captivity would take some doing to begin with. Beetle makes a more cogent point (not to mention a better intellectual impression) when he reminds Kimba that the animals have relied on insects to fill the gap. Dan'l's argument that Kimba "never liked the idea" would have had more force had we heard it at some point during "The Insect Invasion" or "The Gigantic Grasshopper."

The "cat family protest meeting" can also be said to double as this episode's "shark-jumping meeting." Not because what follows is of low quality; rather, because Cassius, Tom, and Tab are attendees and no one pays them any particular notice. Would even Uncle Beetle take Cassius' advice on anything? As bizarre as it sounds, for the rest of the episode, we're asked to buy Claw and his minions as trouble-making members of Kimba's jungle community -- the equivalents of Montana Max in Acme Acres, Dr. Smith on Lost in Space, or Snake Jailbird in Springfield. This gives the remainder of the ep a slightly cockeyed feel, as if we're watching the thing at a Dutch-tilted moral angle.

The "seduction of the innocent" scene should have been great, but all I keep thinking is, haven't the kids learned by now that Cassius, Tom, and Tab are bad news? If not through direct personal experience, then through the advice of their parents? Had Dash and the others fallen under the spell of meat by accident, then we would have had a far more satisfying scenario in which Kimba must convince the youngsters -- who represent, after all, the future of Kimba's vision -- to sacrifice their desires for the greater good. Instead, to be frank, Cassius comes off as the equivalent of a "pusher" here. Not a particularly pleasant message to send, even with the slapstick humor, the amusingly self-referential version of Tom and Tab's song, and Cassius' treatment of Tom and Tab as what Greg Weagle might call "international objects."

After the kids meet meat, we learn that a carnivorous diet... makes one a careless, arrogant jerk! Who knew? Uncle Beetle's protest suddenly seems dignified by comparison. As the kids prance along, we learn as a side note that Dot and Dash are siblings. Also mark that kick of the turtle; it'll actually mean something later.

The use of Roger Ranger in this episode strikes me as essentially pointless. The herbivores are gathered in a nervous huddle, the campsite comes into view, and Roger appears OUT OF NOWHERE to check things out... and discover that his old scientist friend Calvin Hottidge (Gilbert Mack) is inside the tent. The problem isn't that Calvin and Roger happen to be old buds; the problem is that Roger really isn't needed in order to allow the animals to interact believably with Calvin. Calvin could have been attacked by the hungry carnivores and Kimba could have saved him -- which in fact happens later on -- and then the story of Hottidge's search for the final ingredient of his "meat substitute" could have been told. Of course, Calvin would still have had to experience the shock of Kimba and the other animals speaking to him, but that certainly didn't bother other humans in earlier eps. So why use Roger at all?...

...."Ooooooohkay, fine..."

It strikes me that beta-testing a new invention without an important ingredient is not a particularly credible example of the scientific method in action. Why didn't Calvin put his foot down and simply refuse to allow people to eat his creation until he could locate some Tickle-Chicle blossoms? Then again, Calvin is a bit of a wimp, as we learn when the carnivores attack his camp, take him to the proverbial "remote location" (simply eating him on the spot, as opposed to making the meal "to-go," would actually have made more sense), and have a ball scaring him silly. The cute scene in which a hesitant Dash gets to "make the first move" on Calvin is quickly "nega-trumped" by the absurd business involving Kimba offering himself as food to the carnivores. When Claw subsequently yields to Uncle Beetle's demand that the meat-eaters give Calvin one week to produce pseudo-meat, the ep really tips over "the edge of no return." Again, it makes no sense at all for Claw to act, and to be treated, as just another member of the jungle community, or to allow another community member to make his decisions for him. Whoever thought up the original Japanese script for this episode really needed to be called into conference before the thing made it onto film.

Granted that the major damage has already been done, the rest of the episode is pretty decent. The incidental "collateral damage" that Dash did to the turtle (Ray Owens, sounding a bit like the future Superbook's fastidious Professor Peeper) is resurrected in a clever and thoughtful way, and Kimba's subsequent efforts to get the slow-moving fellow to cooperate with the desperate search are amusing. Kimba's Chicle-blossom-bearing dash back to the jungle is evidently meant to be an "action scene" of sorts, but it is so truncated that it really doesn't make much sense. Why would Hottidge's minions think that Kimba was trying to injure their boss simply because he was running towards the jungle? Perhaps fittingly, the jeep wrecks here take the prize for the most senseless scenes of "mechanical destruction" in Kimba. The average car wreck in Speed Racer was far more meaningful (not to mention deadlier).

We bow out with Hottidge and Kimba both showing magnanimity -- Hottidge by refusing the "government" medal (are we to infer here that the United Nations literally runs the world?! *shudder*), Kimba by freeing the remaining insects (though he might have said something a tad less utilitarian than "We won't be needing you any more"). I wish I could be a bit more magnanimous about the episode at large, especially given its thematic importance. Well, at least it's watchable, provided that you can accept the illogic. Call it a "good episode substitute" and let it go at that.

Up next: It's time for a SUPERBOOK SIESTA as we take a look at the Titan Crew's "comeback" series of the early 1980s.

THE BEST (AND REST) OF KIMBA: Episode 22, "Dangerous Journey"

About 18 years ago, when Landmark Entertainment redubbed and rescored the Kimba episodes, the company's publicity bumpf trumpeted Kimba as "A Hero for the 90s" -- by which they meant, of course, that he was an ecologically aware leader "defending his jungle home from devastation of all kinds." Au contraire -- as Ben Jonson wrote of William Shakespeare, Kimba's heroism was "not of an age, but for all time." As Exhibit A in this argument, I give you "Dangerous Journey," arguably THE seminal "Kimba as Hero" episode. Looking for physical courage, determination, compassion, quick thinking, respect for others, fulfillment of duty? They're all here, bundled into a deceptively simple plotline that plumbs unexpected depths.

The epidemic of "Stony Mountain speckled fever" that strikes Kimba's jungle here is based on a similar plague in JUNGLE EMPEROR, the coming of which represented an almost unmitigated disaster for Kimba, who by that time had become an adult and consolidated his rule. As a symbol of his power, Kimba had commanded that a tower be built to serve as a sort of protective citadel for the animals. (The tower -- built for a somewhat different purpose -- will appear in "Gypsy's Purple Potion," two episodes hence.) No sooner has this work been completed than a "spotted disease" appears and fells animals left and right. Among the victims is Kimba's mate and queen Kitty. Tezuka was no doubt trying to make an "Ozymandias"-style point here about the vanity of earthly wishes for fame and "eternal" glory.

When Kimba's daughter Rukyo also falls ill, Kimba is at his wit's end, "howling gigantic curses" in Job-like fashion from the top of his tower. Only an intercession by a visiting human scientist who's with an expedition to Mt. Moon to find the Moonstones (cf. "The Hunting Ground") stops the epidemic. Kimba doesn't cover himself with laurels during the "cure phase," actually attacking the Doc before he realizes that the cure has taken and that Rukyo will live. He does redeem himself, though, by gratefully offering to help the Mt. Moon expedition -- a decision that ultimately costs him his life.

Whereas the adult Kimba of JUNGLE EMPEROR is a panicked victim in the face of the "spotted disease," the young Kimba of "Dangerous Journey" looks the specter in the face and rises to the challenge -- first by helping mountain-goat chieftain Pop Woolly (Gilbert Mack in "benevolent old man" mode) on the latter's journey to fetch the cure, and then by defying the "Law of the Jungle" and risking his own life to try to get the cure for Pop Woolly himself. As in "Jungle Thief," Kimba makes the needs of one animal a priority. Unlike in "Jungle Thief," where Kimba's decision to give Hedda Riverhog the seeds legitimately places the whole farm project in peril, Kimba asks no one else to share the risk, but takes it on as the responsibility of a true leader. This is a very easy episode to love, and it's one of my very favorites for that reason.

Link to episode at Hulu

Those chilling, shivery violin strains as the first few antelope fall make for an unforgettable curtain-raiser. I'm glad that Ray Owens held off on the narration for a bit here. Here is one situation in which it's far better to let the pictures and music set the tone. Speaking of tone, Harry/Harvey Hedgehog's (Billie Lou Watt) bad sickness/quill pun sets the little guy up as the closest thing this ep will have to comedy relief. The comedy actually works much better here than it will in an even grimmer scene a while later.

Kimba's appeal to Dan'l Baboon for assistance launches one of the less noticeable, but nonetheless significant, subplots on display here: Kimba's respect for the wisdom of the aged. This is less cut-and-dried than it seems, as the whole thrust of Kimba's efforts to bring aspects of human civilization to the jungle goes strongly against the grain of many lessons learned from the past and therefore is prone to criticism by "old heads" (e.g., the antipathy of such characters as Boss Rhino and Kelly Funt). What makes Kimba an effective leader is his ability to listen to and heed the voice of experience when he feels he needs to.

Much like Kelly Funt, Pop Woolly appears to be running more or less of a "semi-autonomous fiefdom" as leader of the mountain sheep. Since the sheep tend to hang around the mountains while the elephants remain on the move, Pop Woolly has even more credentials as a true "local clan leader" than does Kelly. Pop Woolly's status may help explain why he's even more insistent that he "hasn't lost the touch" than, say, Dan'l. Note that Kimba pays him considerable respect from the start, as one leader of a kingdom or clan would do to another.

So why didn't Pop mention the leopards along with the flying lizards? Did the leopards just happen to be in the general vicinity and see an opportunity to waylay Kimba in an unfamiliar place? Kimba has proven to be somewhat vulnerable in such situations (the sulfur pit in "Battle at Dead River," the pit in which Bella Donna trapped him in "The Hunting Ground"), so I suppose that such an ambush would be logical, albeit somewhat chancy when you're dealing with a Kimba in "Superlion" mode, as Kimba clearly is here. Kimba will wind up not making the entire journey to the top of Stony Mountain (at least, NOT YET!), but here you clearly see that his presence was vitally important to the success of Pop's original mission. In fact, given the number of leopards that Kimba was fighting here, this may be one of his most impressive physical achievements in the entire series. But, as the man says on TV, wait, there's more.

At 6:40: Now, that's one abrupt sunrise. The sunrises at sea that I've seen on cruises didn't materialize that quickly! But it makes for a great visual. It also won't be the only memorable "lighting trick" in the episode.

The sudden appearance of Stony Mountain, and Kimba and Pop's run-up to the peak, has always struck me as a rather Tolkien-esque moment. I'm not thinking of LORD OF THE RINGS here, but, rather, THE HOBBIT, in which Bilbo and the Dwarves go on their quest to The Lonely Mountain. I suppose that all the flying lizards, added together, would probably sum to Smaug.

On the heels of the great musical accompaniment, we now get some equally fine sound effects: the echoing voices and clickety-clacking rock noises on Stony Mountain. Interestingly enough, in an ep that focuses so tightly and dramatically on an heroic Kimba, Pop Woolly gets two full minutes to show his quality as he fetches the curative tree bark (or nodules, to be precise; it looks as if Pop is only scratching off material from the round growths on the bark). In truth, we need to see Pop's feat in order to fully appreciate the challenges that Kimba will face later, but giving it such space displays the writers' confidence in the basic strength of their narrative. As for the magic (as in magically appearing) bag: perhaps Pop has been taking lessons on the adumbrative properties of beards from Brian Wilson.

We really could have done without the "wah-wah" SFX accompanying the distribution of the medicine to Kimba's subjects. The gag in which Pauley Cracker is accidentally swallowed by the hippo would have been quite enough, thank you. But the mood turns darker quickly enough as Pop falls victim to his fatigue and the lingering pestilence... and the cured animals do their creepy "fade-back," infuriating Kimba and Pauley. Harry/Harvey going first with the "do-di-do..." business is an obvious attempt to draw some of the sting out of this emotionally troubling scene, but it falls rather flat, I'm afraid.

Give Pauley credit: He is always willing to stand up and be counted when he thinks that an injustice is being done, though he is rather more direct here than he was in "Jungle Thief," where he "merely" pitched an exaggerated fit. He also shows more "emotional intelligence" than normal by piling into Harry/Harvey, who is at least the same size as him. This is definitely better than going one on one with the likes of Samson, Claw, or the "flyger"!

Pop's willingness to sacrifice himself for the good of the other animals is a clear reprise of the "Law of the Jungle," and it's particularly poignant here since the decision is entirely self-motivated. Kimba is at least partially appreciative of the logic behind Pop's mournful decision; he initially obeys Pop's angry command to leave him alone and doesn't set out at once for Stony Mountain. But Kimba also doesn't leave Pop's mountain home, providing a memorable bookend to the magisterial scene of the doomed Pop surveying the jungle.



Caesar's dramatic "mooning" of Kimba, of course, is just "one more brick in the wall" of the argument that Kimba influenced The Lion King. But in this case, I would argue that it is not the ghost or spirit of Caesar talking to Kimba, but rather, Kimba's conscience assuming the form of Caesar. For all of Caesar's gifts of leadership, it can fairly be argued that compassion was not his strong suit. Kimba clearly feels that he should try to help Pop -- otherwise, he would not have stayed near the old sheep -- but it takes a combination of his own personal compassion and the ancestral sense of duty inherent in the race of white lions to finally kick him into action and defy Pop's dying request. And who better than Caesar to remind Kimba of his duty? This scene puts the ep over the top as a true classic, with the emotional stress that Kimba undergoes here presaging the physical challenge that awaits him...

And so Kimba sets out on his equivalent of an "Astro Boy mission," with the difference, of course, being that real flesh and blood are at risk here. It's curious that the lizards ventured out into the daylight to chew up the bridge after Kimba passed when they could just as easily have tried to sabotage Pop in similar fashion; perhaps Kimba's small slip encouraged them to seize a chance, especially since Kimba is a "newbie" around these here parts. And where, oh, where did Kimba hide HIS bag? Yes, I know he's a Toon, but applying Toon logic to this very realistic episode seems a stretch. The DuckTales Nephews and TaleSpin's Kit Cloudkicker occasionally pulled things out of hidden pockets in their non-clothed hips; perhaps Kimba has one??

The "superimposition scene" (Kimba struggling up the rock face as first Caesar and then Pop Woolly appear before him) strikes me as a case of being too dramatic by half. I know that the animators were trying to emphasize the spiritual and physical link between Kimba and his father, but I think we already clearly understood the stakes here. No real need to "pile on," I don't think.

The scene in which Kimba reaches the broken bridge is simply beautiful, with another sudden lighting change being employed to brilliant dramatic effect. As the gorgeous broken-cloud background seen here...


...suddenly gives way to the abrupt arrival of a blood-red sky...

...we know all too well that Kimba's biggest physical challenge, his fight with the lizards, is just ahead. And what a battle it is, despite the recycled animation, as Kimba suddenly adds a touch of Kung Fu to his pugilistic repertoire! Even while he's whapping away, Kimba keeps his head and employs a plan of attack, though the lizards cooperate with him by suddenly all running headlong into him at once and knocking one another out. I guess that, with their leader temporarily indisposed, the other lizards became a "mindless mass" for one fatal instant.

Following the snipping of the lizard king's tail, a subsequent scene in which the king wraps himself around Kimba and the two take a dramatic plunge into a gorge -- presumably, the same gorge that the characters have been knocking rocks into from the beginning -- was cut by the Titan crew.  The fears about "excessive violence" seem to me to have been a little exaggerated here. I mean, we've just watched Kimba get hacked up by miniature flying monsters, and, after all, there is water in that gorge; we aren't talking Wile E. Coyote smashing into the desert here. Perhaps the spooky sound effect accompanying the drop -- an SFX that almost sounded as if it had been lifted from a Speed Racer episode -- was "one fright too many" insofar as Titan and NBC were concerned.

Thanks to his heroic efforts -- and, presumably, a waterproof bag in which to carry that medicine -- Kimba wins through and has enough left in the tank to greet Pop Woolly with a hearty "Hi!" He even takes the time to provide medication instructions. His subsequent deferral of credit may cause a few incurable cynics' eyes to roll, but, after all, in his mind, he was merely performing a necessary duty. Would that all leaders imitated his example.

As it happens, "Dangerous Journey" kicks off a skein of about a dozen consecutive good-to-excellent Kimba eps, so its good vibes are positively contagious. In honor of the recently deceased Peter Falk, though, I do have just one more question: Where was Roger Ranger while this episode was taking place? Two possibilities: (1) The ep actually took place after Roger left the jungle for good (in "Such Sweet Sorrow"); (2) Roger was on one of his moss-gathering expeditions, or something similar, and was therefore out of touch. In any case, Roger's assistance would surely have been helpful... but it's no doubt better that Kimba got to carry the mail here. You'd have to be positively "luney" to think otherwise.


Up next: Episode 23, "The Gigantic Grasshopper".