Release date: 2/15/41 (according to BCDB)
This cartoon is in the public domain, and has no official DVD or BR release. It may be on some PD releases, but I don't know of any specific discs. Despite its PD status, it was quasi-remastered in the 1990s and shows up on Boomerang.
You may view a crisp Boomerang-sourced print of this cartoon HERE.
Fred Avery's time at the Leon Schlesinger studio was growing short. By the final months of 1940, he had made significant innovations to studio animation: faster pace and timing, breaking the fourth wall in a more intimate way, harder-hitting humor (much of it sourced from radio shows, movies and other popular culture of the day) and the development of the screwball character. Add to that Avery's debut of the topical spot-gag cartoon, which used deliberately corny humor as a weapon, and, via a sardonic narrator, bridged the experience between filmmaker and spectator, and his body of work is as game-changing as the Walt Disney studio's.
Having recently crested with the impeccable A Wild Hare, Avery had no further heights to reach with Schlesinger. His cartoons of the 1941 season maintain a high technical quality. The worst ones have some nugget to be be mined later in his career (e.g. the hair-in-projector-gate gag of Aviation Vacation). Avery was ready and willing for a more rewarding berth in the world of animation. He would reach that goal by 1941's end, after a brief stint at Paramount, with M-G-M--the glossiest movie factory in Tinseltown. Known for their frothy musicals, "important" big-budget literary adaptations and costume dramas, feather-light comedies and their early championing of movie franchises (Calling Dr. Kildare!!!), Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer first released Ub Iwerks' Flip the Frog cartoons and then lured Hugh Harman and Rudolph Ising from the early Warners animation studio.
A revival of their WB Bosko series, with the main character now clearly an adorable li'l stereotyped African-American tot, had a non-PC but amusing run of films in which the star, assigned to take fresh-baked cookies to his grandmother's house, runs afoul of larcenous frogs who want, need, lust for and covet those cookies, which must have been incredibly tasty.
|Avery-esque exaggeration in The Lonesome Stranger (1940)|
To become faster and funnier, animation had to shed its layers of storybook detail and old European visual influence. A spartan playing field with crisp, expressive characters was ground zero for Hollywood cartoons by the mid-'40s. This would be Avery's most lasting influence as a filmmaker.
At 1940's end, Avery wasn't there yet--no one was. Most of the moldy-fig stylings of the 1930s were gone from the work of Avery, Friz Freleng and Bob Clampett, with Chuck Jones soon to follow, once he realized he was capable of making his audience laugh instead of ooh and aah. 1941 is an important but troubled year for the Warners cartoons. All the units are at a turning point; Avery is at a crossroads. After delivering a masterpiece with Wild Hare, and having perfected the spot-gag format with Cross Country Detours, what was left for him but to repeat himself?
It can't have been a comfortable place for him. He pushed forward. There are a handful of high-quality cartoons yet to come in his Schlesinger period. But there are films that aren't worthy of him, and films that he made not from inspiration but because he had to.
|From an appendix to the MPAA Production Code|
Here's where a stack of inter-office memos would be welcome, but they're all buried somewhere in the California desert. The razzberry--as gesture and sound effect--was banned by the Hays Code. (It was deemed a no-no by 1930, although Hollywood ignored this earlier edict and went on razzing.)
This was the streetwise vulgarity, so recently rife in movies, that Hollywood wanted out of his product. Warner Brothers was among the studios hardest-hit by the Code. They had a reputation for being earthy, coarse and snappy, and to their credit, they did figure out ways to sustain that style post-Code.
Anyone making animated cartoons in 1940 would have known the sound effect was taboo. Watch a string of cartoons from, say, 1932 to 1936 and you'll notice its sudden demise as part of a concerted effort to make animation cuter, cuddlier and more puerile. This was, in part, an influence of Walt Disney's films (which were already smoothing over their rowdy edges during the early years of the Depression). It also shows how the Code curtailed the vitality of studio cartoons.
Avery was a revolutionary agent in the return of rowdiness to the animated film. His success by 1940 was evident in all studios getting faster-paced, more topical and rough-and-tumble and making asides to the audience. Avery, the Che Guevara of animation, hit a wall with The Crackpot Quail.
The cartoon was rejected by the Hays office. "The print at UCLA could be Warners' first answer print," Beck told me. "It's otherwise a mystery as to why it exists." Before the cartoon could find general release, every instance of the "razz" had to be redubbed with a new, Code-friendly sound. This was an expensive folly for Avery--one that likely didn't sit well with Leon Schlesinger and the front office.
Why would a film-maker who had been in the business through the transition to the Code, and had over 50 films to his credit, commit such a reckless and potentially career-damaging move? We can only guess. Something happened to spur this behavior, which will rise up again a few films from now.
Its backstory aside, The Crackpot Quail is an average-quality work--leagues above the abyss of The Haunted Mouse, which may or may not have preceded this film in production (both cartoons shared the release date of February 15). Loaded with handsome animation by Robert McKimson, Virgil Ross and other Avery unit stalwarts, it's visually pleasant and has a few prime moments.
We start with an idealized image of doghood, then truck back to show its relationship to the cartoon's reality:
(after a deep sigh)"Heh heh... oh... boy... heh heh...that's the--that's the life.... I'm gonna be a pointer an' catch me a quail!"
"...and I will, too!"
The dullness of the 1939/1940 animation style is just about gone here. Warner Brothers cartoons will not look fully beautiful until 1943's season, but the worst of the symmetrical moldy fig designs and contours are gone. At M-G-M, Avery will eventually iron out all superfluous details to his character designs and stress a clean, streamlined chassis--figures that could move faster, since they had less detail to weigh them down on-screen. Willoughby has heft, wrinkles, tufts and is handsomely put together. He is fun to watch and fun to hear, thanks to Avery's stellar voice work.
|Willoughby model sheet from this cartoon|