{"id":69511,"date":"2022-01-26T00:03:21","date_gmt":"2022-01-26T08:03:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cartoonresearch.com\/?p=69511"},"modified":"2022-01-25T20:04:09","modified_gmt":"2022-01-26T04:04:09","slug":"flights-of-fancy-part-6-a-heavy-payload","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/cartoonresearch.com\/index.php\/flights-of-fancy-part-6-a-heavy-payload\/","title":{"rendered":"Flights of Fancy (Part 6): A Heavy Payload"},"content":{"rendered":"

We\u2019ll wrap up the 1930’s this week, with another barrage of cartoons about flight, both for fun and for profit, plus a look at a striking cartoon that did its best (albeit unsuccessfully) to keep the world out of impending war.<\/p>\n\"\"\n

\n

The Air Hostess<\/strong> (Charles Mintz\/Columbia, Color Rhapsody,<\/em> 10\/22\/37 – Art Davis, dir.) – Commercial aviation had been around for awhile (witness Shirley Temple\u2019s flight aboard the \u201cGood Ship Lollipop\u201d in \u201cBright Eyes\u201d in 1934). Yet, for animation, it was still considerably unexplored turf as of 1938, and still considered enough of a novelty to merit a cartoon. Furthermore, at least in the impression of the animators, it must have remained tinged by a sense of danger, as Columbia\u2019s portrayal of the industry is far from complimentary, and suggests that anyone utilizing this mode of travel is taking his life into his hands. As was the custom of Mintz pictures since the inception of its leading star Scrappy, tender age presents no obstacle to aspirations of exotic employment, as all but one of the personnel of the airline are children. (Imagine entrusting a plane to someone who isn\u2019t even of legal age to drive a car!).<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>The one elder statesperson of the airline is a female instructor, who, instead of being in charge of flying lessons, tutors a quartet of identical young girls (with standard Mintz studios cherubic faces, not dissimilar to the design that would be used a few seasons later for The Little Match Girl<\/em>) in the finer points of satisfying the passengers as air hostesses (today, we\u2019d call them stewardesses – but this would have been too long a title for the kiddies to spell). While the four wait for their daily lessons, Flight 6 approaches for a landing. The set-down on the runway looks smooth, and the junior pilot waves flirtatiously at the girls. But one of the front tires begins to flatten, and, with no apparent explanation, the plane sags in the middle, and falls apart at the seams. The girls break into uncontrolled giggles, while the kerflummoxed pilot pops his head out of the debris, and throws away a stray piece of metal stuck inside his coat. The girls\u2019 instructor calls them to attention, insisting they maintain order and decorum, and concentrate upon their own duties of serving the customers\u2019 needs. While the girl quartet musically responds with a flock of repetitions of \u201cYes, Ma\u2019am\u201d, the pilot busily surveys the damage, and sets upon the impossible task of putting his ship to right. He attempts to inflate the tires, bit one deflates as fast as he can inflate the other, and when he finally fills them both with air at the same time, they both deflate with the sound of a raspberry. He hammers away to reinstall what he thinks is the tail exhaust pipe, only to find he is hammering on the propeller shaft, which falls out of the plane\u2019s nose. He shovels loads of stray nuts and bolts into the engine compartment. Meanwhile, an airport flight controller announces that his plane is due for takeoff in five minutes, and calls for passengers to board. One of the junior hostesses runs to check the passengers in at the door, even though the door is falling off its hinges. Hoping that his plane will hold together with \u201cscotch tape and prayers\u201d, the pilot hastily climbs aboard, nearly falling through a gaping hole in the floor of the center aisle. He gets no response when he attempts to rev up the engine, as he forgot to re-install the propeller shaft. He runs outside and stuffs the long pole back in – right into the stomach of one of the forward passengers. The angered passenger kicks the pole back, and out the nose again, where it becomes disengaged from the propeller. <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>With no concept of what is to make the prop spin, the pilot resorts to spitting on the propeller hub, and merely slapping the prop onto the plane\u2019s nose for show, then returns to the cockpit. The passengers have been waving goodbye to the spectators outside for the last five minutes, and are beginning to grumble about what\u2019s taking so long, and that they haven\u2019t got all day. But among the passengers is Mae West, who has a different opinion: \u201cTake your time, big boy.\u201d Inside the cockpit, the control panel is shooting off sparks like a fourth of July celebration. The pilot crawls out the window to perform more repairs, and tells the hostess to stall the passengers – \u201cDo anything\u201d. The hostess walks out into the twisted and warped center aisle, and performs a song, much like Shirley Temple did in her air excursion. The pilot is meanwhile bracing up the sagging middle of the fuselage, with a jack that seems to know no limits in elevation. It extends so high, it splits the fuselage into nose and tail halves, as an interior shot reveals the hostess being raised in her half about twenty feet higher than the passengers she is trying to serenade in the nose of the ship. Then, the jack finally reaches its limit, bringing the passenger compartment down for another crash. By now, some of the passengers have been knocked unconscious. The others continue waving to the spectators out the window, but both passengers and spectators are drooping from weariness, as it is already evening. Though things do not seem to have visibly improved one bit, the pilot announces he is finally ready for takeoff. He guns the engine, which makes the sounds of a tired, off-key trombone, as it attempts to raise its fuselage off the ground, section by section. Somehow (inconsistently), the propeller has regained a shaft, but the prop extends out far beyond the nose of he plane, on the verge of falling out again. A short taxi down the runway, and – you guessed it – the plane falls apart again, this time with the pieces hopelessly scattered. The passengers lay in the wreckage, and one comes up with one of the tires around his neck, dripping with grease from the over-lubricated wheel rim. He takes a handful of grease, and tosses it into the face of the air hostess. She begins to cry, while the pilot, after all he has put her through, cruelly breaks into belly laughs at her. A moment later, the same handful of grease is flung (presumably by the hostess) at the pilot, scoring a direct hit, leaving him dripping and smiling a sheepish half-smile to the camera, followed by a backwards glance in consternation at the hostess, for the iris out. <\/p>\n