Nonsense is genius.
It takes gall and balls to chuck out every sense of logic and reason for the daredevil realm of illogic and insanity. Even more so it takes inane wit and ingenuity to revel in nonsense – gibberish, puns, turnarounds, the purgatory of comedy and drama.
It’s what makes Lewis Carroll the godfather of all nonsense, the genesis of cartoons in their strictest incarnation.
Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland seems like a mild-mannered children’s fable, a funny little tale of a girl who daydreamed and plunged into a world of gobbledygook. Poems about impossible fancies, songs bedridden with poppycock lyrics, dialogue swarming with mispronunciations and grammatical mistakes – it’s all nonsense, disjointed and positively rubbish. Yet here it is, a literary icon still today, distinguished by the very same quality most seamlessly disregard on a daily basis.
Carroll created characters completely out of touch with our reality: without the same rules binding them, they were free to say and do what they wanted, repercussions exclusive themselves and not to us. Despite being completely unreliable, these characters – from the perpetually belated White Rabbit to the widely-grinning Cheshire Cat to a giant-headed Queen that screamed “Off with your head!” – could hit us readers with any remark as quick and stingingly possible and get away with it completely: allusions, satire, criticism, anything they wanted to say they said it, unafraid of offense or shock. They are legendary icons of nonsense, uttering the harshest comment to the lightest parody and still emerge unchanged, unscratched, untouched.
It’s this untouchable trait that the truest of cartoons share, and the genius of this quality is their birthright into a God-like realm of any shenanigan they so chose to perform.
Disney created lovable heroes, Warner Bros created screwball rascals. Bugs Bunny outsmarted every bullying antagonist, Daffy Duck haplessly tried to be serious, Wil E. Coyote devised contraptions after another to catch Road Runner, Porky Pig incessantly stuttered introductions – they said and did everything and anything otherwise impossible or unheard of. From breaking the fourth wall to dropping impossibly large anvils out of the sky, their wit, parody and commentary of pop culture and current events were stingingly honest. Even if the messages are now propaganda and/or racist by current standards, at the time they were relevant and reflective of the American public. But unlike politicians or public figures, they were completely unaccountable by virtue of their cartoon nature.
Cartoons occupy a completely independent dimension, one that regards the presence of deus ex machina and red herrings and two ton mallets appearing from someone’s back as wholly and completely normal, that instantly changes scenes and mood at the whim of the animator, and most importantly has characters that are self-aware of their watching audience. Like the Muses of Greek Mythology, cartoons could dispel commentary at their own will and still remain detached from the ramifications of the humanly world. At their greatest metamorphosis, cartoons are Gods that take pleasure in jestering and commenting on our human dimension.
Though funny in its own respect, “Family Guy” (premiering 1999) frequently indulges in the lowest denominator of humor instead of rebelling forward with a constant influx of musical/Broadway musical numbers and other high culture references it is also known for.
Most recent animations no longer strive for this God quality of classic cartoons; they instead either opt for cheap laughs, distillations of life into moronic slapstick without substance or pursue stylization without forming (nonetheless understanding) an appreciation for the necessity of moving, intelligent narratives. Given how the American animation industry has restructured over decades, this is unsurprising: as studios cut back on animation costs, writers, animators and directors left for higher quality projects, and through a cascade of declining productions subsequent cartoons increasingly lacked the genius of their predecessors, forcibly dumb-downed by executives who failed to see value in the immaculate brilliance of tricksters and buffoons. Coupled with the continued formulae of Disney features, public perception of cartoons and animation dwindled into mere shrug-off to children as a buffer from “more adult” narratives. The God quality of cartoons soon retreated into its own reigning realm, now a hidden gem from the public that once flocked to its feet.
Eddie and Roger Rabbit from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?”
Few modern incarnations have reached scale of classic cartoons, and their ingenuity is highly commendable and celebratory. From the 1988 film “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” to the 1993-1998 series “Animaniacs,” these and likewise productions did nothing to tame themselves: they were slapstick, satirical and sharp, taking cues from their legendary forerunners; they did nothing to be loved and adored and were thus lovable and adorable in themselves. Unfortunately, these creations are underrated due to current bulk of American sentiment, that “cartoons and animation are a silly genre for kids."
Yakko, Wakko and Dot with their favorite friend, Steven Spielberg.
Animation and cartooning are not the same, and they most certainly are not genres. Both are mediums, and though similar are very much different by nature and by what they are able to accomplish – the former wanting to be delightfully endearing and the latter simply not caring. And most importantly, they have never been exclusive to children; it is only with current attitude that studios gear and shear and trim their animated productions into moronic, mass-consumerist products. Other countries like France, Britain, Canada and Japan understand this subtle difference very well, which is reflective in their animated/cartooned productions like Sylvain Chomet’s "The Triplets of Bellevile” (France) and Isao Takahata’s “Grave of the Fireflies” (Japan).
2008 Pixar Short “Presto” by Doug Sweetland.
In America, this distinction has been lost over generations of changing viewers, and its something that desperately needs to be clarified should American animators alike wish to push forth the two mediums back into the conscious, thoughtful public mindset. My greatest hope currently lies in the likes of Andrew Stanton (“Finding Nemo” and “Wall•E”), Henry Selick (“The Nightmare Before Christmas” and “Coraline”), Brad Bird (“The Iron Giant” and “The Incredibles”), Craig McCracken (“Powerpuff Girls” and “Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends”), Genndy Tartakovsky (“Dexter’s Laboratory” and “Samurai Jack”), and a few others who likewise maintain faith in the intelligence of children and adults alike, that animation has an artistic potential live-action will never accomplish.
Now all we need is another daredevil animator to create a God of a cartoon.