Like everyone else Krazy Kat has been reduced to selling apples on a street corner, but soon he's smiling again and leading the community in a chorus of "Happy Days Are Here Again."Like everyone else Krazy Kat has been reduced to selling apples on a street corner, but soon he's smiling again and leading the community in a chorus of "Happy Days Are Here Again."Like everyone else Krazy Kat has been reduced to selling apples on a street corner, but soon he's smiling again and leading the community in a chorus of "Happy Days Are Here Again."
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- SoundtracksSmile, Darn Ya, Smile
By Charles O'Flynn
Featured review
Krazy Kat distributes a powerful mood-altering substance to the citizenry
The opening sequence of this strange little black & white cartoon captures the desperate mood of a nation in the grip of the Great Depression as well as any film of its era, and in just a few minutes. Technicolor would have ruined it, for the bleak urban landscape of this film demands a washed-out, grayish look.
The star of Prosperity Blues is dubbed "Krazy Kat," but although cartoonist George Herriman receives a screen credit the feline we see here bears no resemblance to his great comic strip creation. Herriman's cat was rather angular-looking and lived in a desert, while the cat seen here is round and bulbous, like Felix, and dwells in the inner city. The animation style is very similar to that of the Fleischer studio, from the design of the characters to the New York-like ambiance (complete with Jewish folk who exclaim "Oy!" in time to the music), but in fact this cartoon was produced in Hollywood by Columbia Pictures, a studio whose in-house animation unit would spend years copying their more successful competitors until the arrival of John Hubley and Steve Bosustow in the late '40s forged the birth of UPA and a new style.
In the meantime, however, it's 1932 and the situation is grim. Krazy Kat has been reduced to peddling apples on the sidewalk, but there are no takers. In a gag reminiscent of Chaplin's City Lights, Krazy briefly assumes his luck has changed when a limo pulls up to the curb and stops, but the wealthy-looking passenger steps out only to set up an apple cart of his own, joined by his chauffeur. At last, a mysterious customer steps forward and indicates that he would like two apples, and then writes Krazy a check for ten cents. Unfortunately, it's a rubber check which bounces-- literally, bouncing down the sidewalk as Krazy chases after it, in one of those visual puns you find only in cartoons or in the early Marx Brothers movies. Krazy chases the check right into a bank, and although it's brief the scene that follows is memorable, for the bank itself is as deserted and eerie as a haunted house, with cobwebs in the tellers' windows. This evocative scene should be used in TV documentaries about the Depression; it captures that early '30s Zeitgeist with finesse.
Unable to cash his check, Krazy returns to his mysterious customer, who now offers something else instead: a smile, an actual disembodied smile, like the one left behind for Alice by the Cheshire Cat. When this smile is flipped onto Krazy's face he instantly becomes happy, and finds himself singing "Smile, Darn Ya, Smile!" Soon, he's tossing smiles onto the faces of all onlookers, and everyone becomes crazed with happiness and joins in singing. Krazy, now toting a box full of those little crescent-shaped wonders, flings them onto the faces of everyone within flinging distance, and the gleeful crowd launches into "Happy Days Are Here Again." Even the buildings around them rock and dance to the music, and the mob is joined by a maniacally grinning Uncle Sam as the film fades out.
If this all sounds surreal, believe me, it is. It sure felt that way to me when I saw this film, and kind of scary and somehow sad too, despite the insistent 'Cheer Up' message of the songs, or perhaps because of it. In context the insane cheer and happy singing don't seem to be the product of actual joy, seeing as how no one's material or emotional situation has improved; instead, the mob seems to be verging on something closer to hysteria. Those disembodied smiles appear to hold some kind of sinister power to compel bogus "happiness" in the face of genuine misery, not unlike heroin. And who was that mysterious customer supplying the smiles, anyhow? I don't want him hanging around the schoolyard in MY neighborhood.
Am I being a little facetious, here? Yes, but not entirely. Like I said up top, this strange cartoon captures the mood of its era very well indeed, but it's no carefree nostalgia trip. 1932 was rough sledding, that comes across strongly in the course of this film's brief running time, and by the time it's over life in our own era doesn't look quite so bad after all.
The star of Prosperity Blues is dubbed "Krazy Kat," but although cartoonist George Herriman receives a screen credit the feline we see here bears no resemblance to his great comic strip creation. Herriman's cat was rather angular-looking and lived in a desert, while the cat seen here is round and bulbous, like Felix, and dwells in the inner city. The animation style is very similar to that of the Fleischer studio, from the design of the characters to the New York-like ambiance (complete with Jewish folk who exclaim "Oy!" in time to the music), but in fact this cartoon was produced in Hollywood by Columbia Pictures, a studio whose in-house animation unit would spend years copying their more successful competitors until the arrival of John Hubley and Steve Bosustow in the late '40s forged the birth of UPA and a new style.
In the meantime, however, it's 1932 and the situation is grim. Krazy Kat has been reduced to peddling apples on the sidewalk, but there are no takers. In a gag reminiscent of Chaplin's City Lights, Krazy briefly assumes his luck has changed when a limo pulls up to the curb and stops, but the wealthy-looking passenger steps out only to set up an apple cart of his own, joined by his chauffeur. At last, a mysterious customer steps forward and indicates that he would like two apples, and then writes Krazy a check for ten cents. Unfortunately, it's a rubber check which bounces-- literally, bouncing down the sidewalk as Krazy chases after it, in one of those visual puns you find only in cartoons or in the early Marx Brothers movies. Krazy chases the check right into a bank, and although it's brief the scene that follows is memorable, for the bank itself is as deserted and eerie as a haunted house, with cobwebs in the tellers' windows. This evocative scene should be used in TV documentaries about the Depression; it captures that early '30s Zeitgeist with finesse.
Unable to cash his check, Krazy returns to his mysterious customer, who now offers something else instead: a smile, an actual disembodied smile, like the one left behind for Alice by the Cheshire Cat. When this smile is flipped onto Krazy's face he instantly becomes happy, and finds himself singing "Smile, Darn Ya, Smile!" Soon, he's tossing smiles onto the faces of all onlookers, and everyone becomes crazed with happiness and joins in singing. Krazy, now toting a box full of those little crescent-shaped wonders, flings them onto the faces of everyone within flinging distance, and the gleeful crowd launches into "Happy Days Are Here Again." Even the buildings around them rock and dance to the music, and the mob is joined by a maniacally grinning Uncle Sam as the film fades out.
If this all sounds surreal, believe me, it is. It sure felt that way to me when I saw this film, and kind of scary and somehow sad too, despite the insistent 'Cheer Up' message of the songs, or perhaps because of it. In context the insane cheer and happy singing don't seem to be the product of actual joy, seeing as how no one's material or emotional situation has improved; instead, the mob seems to be verging on something closer to hysteria. Those disembodied smiles appear to hold some kind of sinister power to compel bogus "happiness" in the face of genuine misery, not unlike heroin. And who was that mysterious customer supplying the smiles, anyhow? I don't want him hanging around the schoolyard in MY neighborhood.
Am I being a little facetious, here? Yes, but not entirely. Like I said up top, this strange cartoon captures the mood of its era very well indeed, but it's no carefree nostalgia trip. 1932 was rough sledding, that comes across strongly in the course of this film's brief running time, and by the time it's over life in our own era doesn't look quite so bad after all.
helpful•110
- wmorrow59
- Sep 2, 2005
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- Runtime6 minutes
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