A new decade – an old breakfast. Eggs continue to be delivered sunnyside up by all the major animation studios. Let’s serve up a dozen this week so there’s plenty to go around.
The Good Egg (Warner, Merrie Melodies, 10/21/39 – Charles M. (Chuck) Jones, dir.), marks animation’s first egg confusion Involving an egg not derived from a feathered species – although our story still starts in a barnyard. As with Mickey’s The Musical Farmer, we’ve got one hen who just can’t lay. She watches while other hens easily hatch families (such as by putting their eggs in a pop-up toaster and popping out chicks instead). She can’t even befriend and cuddle the other hens’ chicks without them taking the youngsters away and snubbing her. Finally, she can stand it no longer, and places a suicide note on her nest: “Goodbye, cruel world” – with an extra sign in the nest reading, “Space to Let.” She heads for the river, waves the world a last farewell, and lunges for the deep water. But before she can reach the waterline, she stumbles over a large, unattended egg in the sand. Seeing no one else around, she makes a desperate move, and “eggnaps” the orb. Back at her nest, she clucks happily seated upon the egg, knitting clothes for the new arrival, decking her nest out with a banner reading “Welcome, Little One”, and even spreading publicity in the form of a handbill outside reading “What local hen is expecting a blessed event?” The hatching takes place, producing – a baby turtle. Mama is oblivious to his differences, and only knows he’s cute, and provides him with a diaper change inside his shell. She attempts to get him to mix in with the other chicks – but the chicks laugh at his attestations of being a chicken, too, and ditch him by sailing away on a small box with sail which they’ve rigged as a pirate ship. The dejected turtle watches from shore – as the glue holding one side of the box together gives way, dumping the chicks into the river. Another river rescue a la Disney’s 1931 “Ugly Duckling” (with the turtle converting his shell into submarine mode). The turtle gets to sail on the next voyage – in the crow’s nest, with his new title emblazoned on the front of his shell – ‘Life Guard”.
Slap Happy Pappy (Warner, Looney Tunes, 4/13/40 – Robert Clampett, dir.) – Porky’s farm is just loaded with poultry (and non) movie celebrities. An oversize hen swallows a craw full of gravel, then speaks with the gravely voice of Andy Devine, shouting, “Hiya, Buck!” (in reference to Andy’s recurring appearance in “Buck Benny” sketches on the Jack Benny Program). Sure enough, on the other side of the farmyard stands Jack Bunny, busy at a conveyor belt applying Easter Egg paint to the day’s egg production. He runs across a black egg and is about to dispose of it as bad, with a mallet. But out pops a black duck, speaking in the voice of Jack’s radio manservant, Eddie (“Rochester”) Anderson, who shouts, “Hold it, boss!”, avoiding the mallet, then asides to the audience, “Heaven can wait.” (Oddly enough, the Korean redrawn version of this film gets the egg color completely wrong, drawing the shell in white, but still producing a black duck.) But the center of attention is the home of Eddie Cackle (a rooster version of radio comedian Eddie Cantor), who as with his real life counterpart, has a problem with his expected parenthood. Five eggs – all girls. A sign hanging on his door, reading “Boy wanted”, is replaced with one reading, “Boy still wanted.”
Original “Slap Happy Pappy” cel courtesy of Ian Soden
But along comes another celebrity papa – a look and sound alike to Bing Crosby, with a baby carriage full of boys. Eddie begs Bing for his secret. Bing demonstrates his secret power – by crooning to a nearby hen, who swoons, then lays a mountain of eggs, each with a boy’s name written on the shell. “That’s a cinch”, Eddie replies, and darts back into his roost to serenade his missus. A small bird peeps into his door keyhole, then produces a radio mike, sending a “Flash”: to the world as Walter Finchell (parodying tattle-tale reporter Walter Winchell) of an anticipated blessed event. Eddie emerges and performs a production number to celebrate his belief that this time it’ll be a boy, getting some less-than-committed encouragement from additional fowl caricatures of Kay Kyser and ever-gloomy Ned Sparks. The big moment arrives, an an egg-shell labeled “Jr.” hatches. “Is it really a boy?” inquires a happy Eddie. “Ummmmm…Could be”, replies the chick (Artie Auerbach’s catch-phrase as Mr.. Kitzel on multiple radio shows).
The Egg Collector (Warner, Merrie Melodies (Sniffles), 7/20/40 Charles M. (Chuck) Jones, dir.), may be in a photo finish for the title of lamest Sniffles the Mouse cartoon of all time (only rivaled by the entirely unfunny “Sniffles Takes a Trip” (1940)), in that it is little more than a retread of plot points from “Little Brother Rat”, with about 1/4 of the action and 1/4 of the pacing. This time joined by his recurring sidekick the Bookworm, Sniffles pours over old books on the hobby of egg collecting. (At least last time he had the motivation of a scavenger hunt requiring daring deeds to win a prize – this time Chuck has him voluntarily sticking his neck out into danger for no logical reason.) Worse yet, Sniffles is painted as stupid – not realizing a book reference to a rodent as an owl’s favorite food is a reference to his own species. (Chuck! Sniffles may be innocent-natured – but you don’t have to make him so dumb just ‘cause you’re stuck for your production quota.) Even the Bookworm, who should have “digested” knowledge on every subject, can’t tell Sniffles what a rodent is, (Well, duh!). So they meet the same Papa owl, with the same half-hatched hooty offspring in the same labeled nest. Sniffles has none of the same complications in transporting the baby’s egg as in the first film, and takes it, baby and all. It takes him nearly a full two minutes of the film to realize, as he brags to the bookworm about taking the egg out from under the nose of the “stupid old owl”, that Papa owl is standing right in the same room with them, and for Papa to explain that Sniffles is a rodent. “What did you think you are – – a cow?” There is not even a chase, as Junior pops out of the shell, distracting Papa long enough for Sniffles and Bookworm to make a clean getaway. All Jones can come up with for an ending is for Bookworm to be scared back at the bookshop by the illustration of the owl in the egg collecting book, and Sniffles’ hat to be switched with the Bookworm’s glasses for the iris out. Despite his many career successes, Jones holds the unique ranking among Warner directors of being the only one among them who could turn out a string of pictures that were downright dull.
The “Good Housekeeping” page for “Golden Eggs” (click to enlarge)
Donald hides in a tool shed while the angry rooster paces sentry duty in front of the egg basket left behind (which Donald sees with every shell transformed to gold and marked with a dollar sign). Donald happens upon a feather duster, a red rubber glove, and a brown burlap sack, and gets an idea. Using these props, he dons a makeshift chicken disguise (revisiting the basic idea of “Koko Gets Egg-Cited”, discussed in part 1 of these articles, but switching gender to a female disguise instead of a male). Donald flirts seductively with the rooster, attempting to lure him away from the basket. But the rooster’s amorous overtures continue to keep getting in his way. On top of that, Donald keeps periodically having the rubber glove pop off his head (at one point, a caterpillar the rooster has dug up for him gets inside the glove, and wiggles the fingers of the glove so that Donald’s “comb” looks like a beckoning hand), and also loses his feather duster at times too. The rooster engages Donald in a tango dance that transforms Into apache dance whirls, ultimately loosening all of Donald’s appurtenances. Revealed, Donald makes a run for the egg basket, taking off with it faster than his own shadow can keep up. He darts out the chicken yard gate just in time to slam it on the rooster, who leaves a three-dimensional impression of himself in the chicken wire. Donald gives the rooster the horse laugh, but spills one egg in his own path, slips, and somersaults headfirst into the basket, scrambling the day’s supply. As two yolks substitute for his eyes, then slide down his face, Donald can only repeat in sardonic underplay, “Liquid gold.”
The Henpecked Duck (Warner, Looney Tunes, Porky and Daffy, 8/30/41, Robert Clampett, dir.), has been previously visited and reviewed in depth in these columns, in my prior article, “Holy Matrimony! And a Stack of Storks (Part 1).” Daffy is left on the nest by the missus to mind their egg while she goes shopping. To kill time, Daffy improvises a magic act, making the egg disappear. But despite one success at making the egg reappear, a second try of the trick results in no egg at all. Despite Daffy’s attempts to cover up for his shenanigans by substituting a doorknob for the missing egg (a borrowed gag from Oswald’s “The Wily Weasel”), his carelessness winds him up in divorce court. He begs for one more try at the trick, and with a desperate repetition of the magic words “Hocus pocus, flippety flam, a razz-a-ma-tazz, and alakazam!”, the egg reappears in the nick of time. An old hen in the gallery utters the best line in the film: “Alakazam and you get an egg? Oh dear….And for fifteen years I’ve been doin’ it the hard way!”
Horton Hatches the Egg (Wanner, Merrie Melodies, 4/11/42), is Robert (Bob) Clampett’s brilliant adaptation of Dr. Seuss’s famous hit children’s book. While the verses of Seuss’s original manuscript are largely preserved, this being Bob Clampett, one can hardly expect the story to be told without a considerable number of gag embellishments. Lazy Maisie, the jungle bird who’d rather be on vacation instead of tending her nest, complains of bags under her eyes – depicted in expected visual pun. Horton the elephant makes his appearance singing a novelty ditty which was a national earache of the day, “The Hut-Sut Song” popularized by Horace Heidt and his Musical Knights on Columbia, with portions of lyrics in Swedish (or maybe mock Swedish), and getting the lyrics confused with substitute words like “and a so-on so-on so-forth”. Maisie fast-talks Horton into egg-sitting, while she ditches him entirely and flies off for an indefinite stay in Palm Beach (where she begins to take on airs in her dialogue lines to sound like Katharine Hepburn). Horton is left sitting for 51 weeks, through floods, ice storms, and finally into Spring, where he is spotted by hunters carrying an elephant gun so big it takes three of them to carry it.
Clampett’s interpretation of “A rifle was aiming right straight at his heart” has the gun’s sights firmly aimed at Horton’s rear end. But the hunters find the sight of Horton on the nest so funny that they take him back alive to a circus – for money. On the trip back. Clampett can’t resist including one of his old standby gags – a fish, talking like and resembling Peter Lorre, sees Horton on the ship’s deck in his nest, and states, “Well, now I’ve seen everything”, then pulls out a pistol and shoots himself. At the circus, Horton is put on exhibition – and who of all “people” attends the show but Maisie. Before Horton can explain his presence there, the egg begins to hatch. Realizing the work is all done now, Maisie demands it back – but realizes that it’s no longer what she expected. The hatchling has been “influenced” by Horton’s tender care, and emerges as an elephant-bird! (Much like Koko the clown’s hatchlings wearing duplicates of his hat). A frustrated Maisie is defeated, and Horton gains the benefits of parenthood – proving there’s more to being a mother than just laying it. Oddly, the circus doesn’t keep the new spectacle for its own, but send Horton and the fledgling back to the jungle – where they sing the lyrics to “The Hut-Sut Song” wrong again, but now in chorus.
The Ducktators (Warner, Looney Tunes, 8/1/42 – Norman McCabe, dir.), is another of those heavy-on-the propaganda wartime shorts that Norman McCabe got saddled with – or chose to get saddled with? He and Dan Gordon at Paramount seem to have set the all-time records for number of wartime-themed shorts turned out by a single animation director. Our brief interest in this title is for another “Ugly Duckling”-like hatching at the opening of the picture, as mama and Papa German Duck discover a black egg among their white ones. “Vat’s dis, a dark horse?” asks Papa. The result which hatches has all the facial hair and hairdo to bear a not-coincidental resemblance to a certain German dictator of the day, who immediately yells upon emerging, “Sieg Heil!”
Fine Feathered Friend (MGM, Tom and Jerry, 10/10/42 – William Hanna/Joseph Barbera, dir.), perhaps owes a degree of influence to Dinky Duck’s “The Orphan Duck”, discussed last week, in having Jerry masquerade as a newly-hatched chick in a nest to obtain the bodyguard protection of an overprotective Mother hen. There are actually few gags in this episode dealing with the eggs themselves – the only notable one being the hen’s use of a farm “triangle” (the kind of bell that opened each week’s episode of “The Real McCoys” to call the farmhands to “Come and get it”) to rack up her eggs neatly like pool balls.
“Barnyard Waac” model Sheet (click to enlarge)
My Favorite Duck (Warner, Looney Tunes (Porky and Daffy), 12/5/42 – Charles M. (Chuck) Jones, dir.), is the first Technicolor partnership of the pig and duck duo upon Looney Tunes converting to color. For our purposes, it features a brief egg gag. Daffy is pestering Porky for no good reason at all in a lakeside camping retreat. As Porky attempts to prepare breakfast, Daffy switches his chicken egg with a much larger one. Porky accepts this in stride: “Boy, there’s nothing like this mountain air to make things grow.” Cracking the egg open, he discovers a young bird. “G-gosh, it looks just like a baby eagle.” Standing right nearby is a sternly angry Papa. “For your information, it IS a baby eagle!” Rolling up his feathered sleeve, he delivers an offscreen beating to Porky, which Daffy can only describe as “Brutal.” The baby talks at mile-a-minute pace: “Is he dead, Mommy? Is there rigor mortis? Did they kill the man? Will they have to bury the man, Mommy?” (Odd that he says “Mommy”, when the adult eagle’s voice was definitely male.) Meanwhile, Porky stands, with his frying pan smacked so hard into his face that an impression of his features appears through the pan metal.
The Yankee Doodle Mouse (MGM, Tom & Jerry, 6/26/43 – William Hanna/Joseph Barbera, dir.) includes a brief but memorable egg gag, as Jerry barrages Tom with a crate of “Hen-Grenades” (a dozen eggs). One well placed shot hits Tom right in one eye, with the egg shell staying in Tom’s eye resembling a monocle, and the dripping yolk connecting to it like a golden chain.
Flop Goes the Weasel (Warner, 3/20/43, Charles M. (Chuck) Jones, dir.), almost deserves to be one of the “Censored 11″ for its stereotypical designs and dialogue. A black hen detects tapping in morse code from the egg in her nest, which she interprets for the message, “Kill de fatted worm. Yo is practically a mammy. P.S. Congratulations. Junior.” Not many egg gags, but the usual business with a weasel pilfering the egg, then changing his culinary fancy to chicken when he sees the little black squab that pops out. Junior asks what kind of animals they are, and the weasel (posing as Mammy in an Aunt Jemima-style red and white polka dot bandana) tells him they;re both tricky weasels. This of course prompts junior to play every mean trick possible on “Mammy” to follow in the weasel tradition – from hotfoots to mallet bops to having Mammy inhale a shaker of pepper (borrowing some inspiration from Tex Avery’s earlier “The Sneezing Weasel “ of the 1930’s), to finally nearly drowning Mammy in a washing machine (causing the villain to hold a sign out of the water: “I surrender, dear.”) When the real Mammy doesn’t believe Junior’s tale of daring craftiness, the battered weasel is nearby to add his own eyewitness corroboration – with a last sneeze for good measure.
More cracked entertainment to come. Next week’s article promises to be a real “Lulu”.
Charles Gardner is an animation enthusiast who toils by day as a member of LA Law – but by nights and weekends indulges in classic jazz and ragtime as a performer; and studies classic Hollywood cartoons… maybe a little too much.
Another nice group of cartoons, here. I have this feeling that little “kid” characters like Sniffles were expected to be “dumb”, as you put it, so we expect him to get into mischief that most kids would be to smart to get into, but I always liked Papa Owl’s response to Sniffles’ cluelessness upon finding out that he, himself, is a rodent, simply because nothing beats Mel Blanc’s delivery…and I enjoy that Book Worm character a lot because, although he is known as a book worm, he is s imply depicted as a worm who folllows Sniffles on most of his adventures. He is at his best trying to warn Sniffles of danger in pantomime. I do wonder what might be done with these characters if revived in the forthcoming all new series of LOONEY TUNES and MERRIE MELODIES.
Can’t wait to find out if eggs bounce. ‘Til next week ~ eggzit, stage right!
Probably the harshest critic of the timing in Chuck Jones’s early cartoons was Jones himself. “It is obvious,” he wrote in CHUCK AMUCK, “when one views this cartoon, which I recommend only if you are going to die of ennui, that my conception of timing and dialogue was formed by watching the action in the La Brea tar pits. It would be complimentary to call it sluggish.” He was talking about “Elmer’s Candid Camera”, but he could just as well have been talking about “The Egg Collector”.
The lugubrious music that plays as Sniffles and the Bookworm enter the owl’s roost in the church steeple is Chopin’s Prelude in C minor, Opus 28, No. 20. The piece is played in its entirety here (it’s only a page long). Barry Manilow used it as the basis for his song “Could It Be Magic”.
There are some wonderfully lugubrious viola solos in this week’s batch of cartoons, notably at the beginning of “The Good Egg”, expressing the barren hen’s sorrow. Stalling wrote a lot of great viola solos, but I’ve never heard such an extended one.
Dinky Duck’s second cartoon, “Much Ado About Nothing” (Fox/Terrytoons, 22/3/40 — Connie Rasinski, dir.), contains far more eggs than his debut, “The Orphan Duck”, covered last week. It opens with Dinky and his little yellow chick sweetheart cuddling affectionately in a corner of the barnyard. A passing grasshopper distracts them momentarily, and then they resume billing and cooing; but when they see a pair of frogs playing leapfrog, they decide to join in the fun. Dinky and his pal go leapfrogging merrily through the grass, until the chick takes one leap too many and lands in the pond with a splash. This makes her, literally, as mad as a wet hen. Ignoring Dinky’s entreaties, she runs crying to her mother, who then spanks Dinky until his black bottom turns bright pink.
Dinky in turn runs to his mother and shows her his glowing posterior. Horrified, she hastens to give Mrs. Hen a piece of her mind; but the tough, cigar-chomping rooster, hearing the commotion, chases her away, pecking her rump and the back of her head as they go. Mama Duck then demands that her husband retaliate. The mild-mannered drake would rather sit and read his newspaper, but, egged on by his wife, leaves to confront the rooster and finds himself hopelessly outmatched.
This is where the eggs come in. Seeing her husband at a disadvantage in the altercation, Mama Duck begins to throw eggs at the rooster. The hen responds in kind. All the other birds in the barnyard join in, and before you know it flying eggs are splattering everywhere like pies in a Three Stooges comedy. Dinky’s mom places him under a pot for his protection, which is immediately pelted with eggs. But when she checks on him a minute later and finds him gone, she rushes out into the albumen-soaked barnyard and demands a cease-fire. They find Dinky and his chick happily snuggling together as before, the whole conflict completely forgotten. Much ado about nothing indeed!
Dialect aside, Flop Goes the Weasel is nowhere near as objectionable as anything in the Censored Eleven, and is actually a fun cartoon. It’s not outstanding by any means, but it is typical of Jones’ output during the early to mid forties. It has some interesting staging and cutting (Chuck was reading up on Eisenstein at the time and loved to put his montage theories in practice) and very clever visual gags.
I couldn’t help noticing that Vimeo states that “My Favorite Duck” has the “original ending”. Looks like the same one I’ve always seen. Was there ever a different one?
All they did was put back the Porky Pig drum. This never appeared on any Blue Ribbon Merrie Melodies reissues. The original opening titles still haven’t been found.
Another charming cartoon from the early forties with an avian theme is “The Bird Tower” (Fox/Terrytoons, 28/11/41 — Mannie Davis, dir.). The narrator introduces us to “the famous Singing Tower, located in the heart of Florida” — depicted here as a posh resort hotel for birds. Mr. and Mrs. Robin of New York check in and are shown to the honeymoon suite, which is inexplicably furnished with twin beds. (I guess even married birds were subject to the strictures of the Production Code.) The birds avail themselves of the tower’s many recreational facilities, including ballroom dancing, swimming, badminton and bingo. (In a gag lifted from “The Barnyard Boss”, the bingo numbers are called out by a parrot in a spinning cage.) When Mrs. Robin lays an egg, she calls the switchboard, and the operators summon Doctor Stork, who arrives in a wheelchair with his leg in a cast. Five baby birds hatch from the single egg (perhaps a reference to the Dionne quintuplets, then Canada’s number one tourist attraction). The cartoon ends with the tower’s bells ringing to herald the birth.
The Singing Tower still stands today and is a National Historic Landmark. It and the surrounding 250 acres of ornamental gardens were built in the 1920s and dedicated as a bird sanctuary by Edward W. Bok, editor of Ladies’ Home Journal magazine, and his wife Mary Louise Curtis Bok, founder of the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. The Singing Tower is named for its carillon, which gives daily concerts; and as with carillons everywhere, the bells are activated by a keyboard mechanism, not the system of pulled ropes shown in the cartoon. It sounds like a beautiful place, and I’m sure it would be worth a visit if you’re ever stumped for things to do while on holiday in central Florida.
And then there’s “Frankenstein’s Cat” (Fox/Terrytoons, Super [i.e., Mighty] Mouse, 27/11/42 — Mannie Davis, dir.). All the mice and birds are celebrating the end of a full year without a cat attack, when a yellow bird’s two eggs hatch and two babies emerge. While she is giving them flying lessons, however, an errant gust of wind blows one of the babies all the way to the brooding, ominous castle of Frankenstein’s cat. He tries to grab her, but she escapes, and the monster lumbers after her. The baby bird reaches her nest and hides inside the eggshell, no doubt thinking that the world is a much crueler place than she bargained for; but when she looks out to see if the coast is clear, the first things she sees is the monster cat’s hideous face leering hungrily at her. He grabs her and takes her back to his castle, a mob of torch-bearing mice and birds following behind. But as usual, it takes Super Mouse — singing no opera here, but speaking in a tough Brooklyn accent (“What didja do wit’ da boid?”) — to save the day. Released from the cat’s voracious maw, she is happily reunited with her family.
I think the featured birds in this cartoon are meant to be Eastern goldfinches (Spinus tristis), but their call is like that of a robin, and their plumage isn’t quite right. Also, goldfinches have a distinctive wave-shaped flight pattern, which is not observed here. But their eggs really are a lovely pale blue colour as shown in the cartoon (although goldfinches typically lay three to seven of them in a clutch, not just two), so we bird lovers can be grateful that Terry got at least that one detail right.
Dinky Duck’s third cartoon, “The Lucky Ducky”, like his first, deals with his adoption into a family of chickens, but it is as egg-free as vegan mayonnaise. Not so his fourth, “Welcome Little Stranger” (Terrytoons/Fox, 3/10/41 — Connie Rasinski, dir.), which is a reversal of the setup in the Fleischer Color Classic “The Little Stranger” (1936).
Mr. and Mrs. Chicken push a pram containing their three eggs to the home of their friend Mrs. Rabbit, who has just given birth to triplets; and, leaving the pram parked outside, they go inside to visit. Meanwhile, a forlorn mother duck in a tattered shawl comes along and tearfully places her egg in the chicken’s pram, with a note: “Please take care of my baby.” After the chickens say good-bye to Mrs. Rabbit, the eggs begin to hatch; and the sight of a black duckling among the yellow chicks comes as a nasty and unwelcome surprise. The couple argues wordlessly like the parents in Disney’s 1939 “The Ugly Duckling”, but here, the emotion is accentuated by a background depicting battle scenes on the Western Front! They return home, and with their argument unresolved, the rooster packs his bags and moves into the doghouse.
Dinky does everything he can to win the affection of his new dad. He picks up the rooster’s fallen cigar for him, but the cock just blows smoke in his face. Dinky takes his dinner out to the doghouse and gives it to the rooster, who angrily throws it on the ground. Dinky even gives him a red rose, but he blows the petals off it until they stick to Dinky’s head like an Indian headdress. Disconsolate, Dinky decides to run away after writing a note and pinning it to one of the rooster’s spurs. It reads: “Dear Pop — I am leaving home, I know you don’t love me but I will always love you! Good bye forever, Duckie.” (It seems Dinky’s name had not yet been established by his fourth cartoon.)
When the rooster reads the note, he is wracked with remorse and momentarily turns into a jackass. (At this point, the doleful music is punctuated by a couple of sardonic “Hee-haws” from the orchestra, without breaking the mood — a masterful touch by Maestro Scheib.) The rooster, hen and chicks all search for Dinky; but when they are unable to find him, they burst into tears. Dinky, hearing their pitiful sobbing, returns, and the little stranger is finally welcomed as one of the family.
Will Dinky’s fifth cartoon be another variation on the adoption theme? I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.
When Gandy Goose orders “The Magic Pencil” (Terrytoons/Fox, 15/11/40 — Volney White, dir.) from a radio show, Sourpuss can only laugh in mocking disbelief. Gandy demonstrates the magic pencil’s power by using it to draw an egg suspended in midair. When Sourpuss examines it from underneath, the egg splits in two — and then the yolk’s on him!
In “Tricky Business” (Terrytoons/Fox, 1/5/42 — Eddie Donnelly, dir.), Gandy and Sourpuss find another magical pencil in a magic shop; but instead of drawing eggs with it, they sensibly use it to draw taps that dispense alcoholic beverages! However, the shop does have a display of “magic eggs”. Gandy demonstrates by placing one on top of his head and slamming his hand down on it; the egg disappears, and then magically reappears, intact, in his mouth. Sourpuss tries his hand at the trick, placing a magic egg on his head and slamming his hand down — and once again, the yolk’s on him!
In “Cat Meets Mouse” (Terrytoons/Fox, 20/2/42 — Mannie Davis, dir.), a house cat captures mice and puts them in a box disconcertingly labelled “Concentration Camp”, then sadistically torments those that attempt to escape. The mice eventually raise an army, dressed as Canadian Mounties and armed with rifles and bayonets. When the cat seeks refuge in the kitchen, the mice pelt him with eggs. (Why do they need to throw eggs? They have rifles!) In the end, the mice have imprisoned the cat in his “Concentration Camp” box; and when the mouse general accusatorily points a sword at him and asks what he has to say for himself, the cat turns to the camera and replies, in Lou Costello’s voice: “I’m a baaaaad boy!”
I suppose in 1942 most Americans knew about the concentration camps but had no idea how hellish they really were. Later revelations have made this cartoon hard to laugh at.
“Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B” (Lantz/Universal, Swing Symphonies, 1/9/41 — Walter Lantz, dir.), a musical cartoon about African-Americans in the army, predictably makes a crack at their stereotypical obsession with shooting craps. A cook takes two eggs, rattles them in his hand and rolls them along the kitchen counter like a pair of dice. They break open perfectly in the frying pan, sunny side up. Would that count as “snake eyes”?