Porky in Wackyland

Porky in Wackyland is regarded as one of the finest cartoon shorts ever made. Directed by Bob Clampett for Warner Brothers, it was released in 1938 in black and white in the Looney Tunes series. Like many shorts, it has little plot to speak of. The story is straightforward: Porky Pig goes searching for the last of the do-do birds; finds him; but there’s a catch. The cartoon gets its dramatic interest from its gags, one after the other. In a sense, this whole cartoon is a gag, a gag called Wackyland.

The cartoon signals its waywardness just before the title sequence ends. A newsboy enters from the right, hawking a special edition about Porky’s expedition to find the do-do:

The intrusion of the cartoon proper into the title sequence puts us on notice that this is not going to be an ordinary gagfest. Yet, wacky though the film is, it is not without a simple dramatic order. The object of this post is to sketch that order.

* * * * *

The first task is to transport us from the newsboy in our world to Wackyland. The first move is simple; the newsboy holds the paper up so we can see it, full screen:

That front page is on the screen for 16 seconds before it fades to a shot of Porky in his plane in the air. That’s more than enough time to read the headlines, which are all that’s readable (at least on my DVD). Porky does a bit of flying, holds up a photo while telling us that, yes, this is the do-do, and then the camera zooms out so we can see the whole world. Porky’s plane flies a convoluted path toward Wackyland, which is in Africa.

As the plane goes over Africa, we get a progressive gag. First it flies over a background in medium gray, which is labeled “Dark Africa” – at this point I suspect that many viewers will have anticipated what’s going to happen next. Then the plane’s over a darker area: “Darker Africa.” At this point one can feel pretty sure that Wackyland will be in an area of Africa that is black on the map and that is labeled “Darkest Africa.” And that’s what happens.

What doesn’t happen, however, is that Wackyland is populated with jungle flora and fauna and restless natives with bones through their noses and big kettles all ready for cooking missionaries. While such things were common enough in cartoons – think of the cartoons the Fleisher Brothers did with Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong – Clampett doesn’t call on those clichés. The only significance of this “darkest Africa” is that it is remote, very remote.

Once we’re through that gag the camera zooms in on Porky and his plane and we see them land in an area that doesn’t seem particularly African or wacky. Look closely at the relationship between Porky and the plane:

The plane is treated as an extension of Porky’s body, with the landing gear becoming an extension of his legs. That image, it seems to me, typifies the nature of the cartoon medium. The distinction between man, umm, err, pig and machine is all but obliterated; the machine itself has become animated and shares in the life of the pig.

That conceit is maintained as Porky and the plane approach the border of Wackyland and cross into it – notice the landing gear become legs:

Up to this point everything we’ve seen is pretty much drawn from a “standard issue” repertoire of gags and devices, including the border-line inscribed in the ground. We’ve not seen anything particularly wacky. But notice the sky, how it shades to night in Wackyland. That’s moving into wacky territory.

Once Porky and the plane have crossed into Wackyland proper they’re accosted by a strange monster:

Notice the multiple moons in the sky and the trees that look like large mushrooms. We’re getting wacky. But it’s not until the monster suddenly backs off, transforms, and says “boo” that we get a full measure of the wackiness to come:

Porky then walks into Wackyland, leaving his plane behind, and sees the sun being pushed into sky atop a tower of animals. That gag reduces the center of the solar system, with all that implies, into a stage prop.

At the same time the sound-track gives us one of the staples of cartoon music, the section of the “William Tell Overture” which had become a standard musical evocation of sunrise.

And that, in turn, provides an opportunity for yet another gag, of a different type. The second statement of the melody is by a flute. As we hear the flute the camera pans right and we see an odd humanoid in a flower playing that melody out of its elongated nose:

In effect, the music is being generated from within the film itself rather than being an external accompaniment. No sooner do we get used to that than the film changes on us. The onscreen musician discards the flute in favor of a drum kit and the music becomes raucous big band swing:

We’re now roughly a third of the way through the cartoon, thoroughly immersed in Wackland, and Porky is nowhere to be seen. He disappears completely for over half a minute and doesn’t take an active role until about the four minute mark. Until then the big band music continues and we see a parade of strange creatures. Clampett has used the music to reach out, grab us, and pull us into the action, settling us in the midst of his funny business.

The way I see, the cartoon will have gone through three phases by the time this segment ends. First we have the title sequence, which is, of course, standard with every cartoon. But this sequence is ‘broken’ at the end by the intrusion of the newsboy. Second, Porky takes us to Wackyland. Porky doesn’t actually do anything but fly the plane and walk into Wackyland, but the action centers on him. Then we leave Porky aside for awhile and become immersed in the strange doings of Wackyland. We establish our own relationship with Wackyland.

Now, at roughly four minutes in, we’re ready for the fourth phase, in which Porky finally finds the do-do. This phase begins when Porky sees a sign promising information about the do-do:

It’s a bit less than a minute from that point to Porky’s meeting with the bird, and quite a bit of business takes place in that interval. We end up with this scene:

That’s Porky down in front, almost as though he were in a theatre waiting for the show to unfold before his eyes. The do-do will appear through the door immediately beneath the neon sign. He takes a boat across the moat, disembarks, sinks the boat with its anchor, and gets quizzed by Porky: “Are you re-re-really the la-la-last of the do-dos?” “Yes, I’m really the last of the do-dos.” He then proceeds to beat Porky up and dance on him:

Now we’re in familiar Porky Pig territory: Porky getting beaten by whom or whatever he’s chasing. It will be like that to the end.

A bit before the six-minute mark the do-do produces a pencil and proceeds to draw a door:

Everyone in the audience of course knows that the images they’re watching were originally drawn on paper. While the cartoon has been commenting on itself ever since that newsboy invaded the title sequence, this comment is the most explicit and direct comment we’ve seen. Such commentary is native to the medium; it was there in Winsor McCay.

That door, of course, proves impenetrable to Porky:

Three or four gags later the do-do will appear out of the WB logo and clobber Porky with a slingshot pellet:

This is yet another reference to the fact that this is, after all, a cartoon. Yet there’s nothing self-conscious or “arty” about it. It’s just another piece of wacky business in Wackyland. In much of its business the do-do is playing with the material fabric of Wackyland itself, as it did with by using the pencil.

This logo gag is followed by another gag or two, ending with Porky under a pile of bricks. We then cut to a scene where the do-do prances along against a black background. He passes an old man hawking a newspaper – Porky in disguise – proclaiming that Porky’s captured the do-do.

When the do-do inquires about the story – since, obviously, it’s not captured – Porky whacks it over the head with a mallet and grabs it by the neck. Alas, Porky's victory is short-lived. The do-do is not, in fact, the last of it kind:

The premise of Porky’s expedition is thus destroyed. The do-do is not so valuable after all. It’s all in the journey, as they say.

* * * * *

What, then, is the logic of this cartoon? I’ve already spelled out part of it:

1) Title sequence
2) Porky takes us to Wackyland
3) Audience immersed in Wackyland wackiness

Then we have three more phases:

4) Porky finds the do-do
5) Porky chases the do-do
6) Porky captures the do-do

The gags in this part of the cartoon are more self-referential than those in the first part. When Porky finds the do-do he does so as the spectator in a little theatrical production in which the do-do makes a grand entrance, crosses a moat, and lands where Porky can reach him. At that point Porky is playing the same role in his story that the audience plays: both are spectators. In the chase the do-do manipulates the apparatus of Wackyland as though the cartoon were drawing itself – an effect that will be intensified over a decade later in Duck Amuck. Just as Porky is trapped in the do-do’s manipulations, so we are trapped in the cartoon, and have been so since the title sequence. As a final gesture, the cartoon in effect swallows itself by dissolving the premise that had motivated Porky’s flight to dark, darker, darkest Africa.

In seven minutes Clampett and his crew have given us a painless lesson in self-referential avant-garde art. I suspect that most of the contemporary audience for this cartoon would have been puzzled by surrealist art, which is an obvious inspiration for Wackyland. They would have wanted pictures to look like, well, like something recognizable, not like puzzle pieces from an alien board game. But the movie theater isn’t a museum, and these images aren’t framed paintings hung reverentially on a wall. They’re the setting for a bunch of funny business enacted by a familiar and beloved figure, Porky Pig. Thus does lowbrow culture use highbrow culture for its own purposes.