I’ve written before about the importance of cartoons in my childhood viewing repertoire. Somehow The Flintstones passed me by, but I had a soft spot for Bugs Bunny and Top Cat, two characters full of mischief and playful personalities designed to appeal to children of all ages, not only those under sixteen. Disney Time was a Bank Holiday staple in our household, featuring excerpts from Dumbo, The Jungle Book, Cinderella, etc, while the surreal humour of The Pink Panther Show also tickled my fancy.
It’s also evident from my first diary, maintained throughout 1973, that I remained an avid viewer of Wacky Races ‘til at least the age of twelve. I would feel immense sympathy for the cowardly canine Muttley, destined never to take the chequered flag with his despicable associate Dick Dastardly. However, as a lynchpin of my youthful TV watching, it’s a cat, not dog, who stands head and shoulders above the rest.
Poor Tom. His was a head which was frequently battered, flattened and generally grossly mistreated for our entertainment. The same was also true of every other part of his body, from toes to tail. Of course, we were encouraged to root for plucky Jerry the mouse, whose superior cunning usually compensated for his lack of size. Jerry the underdog? Not a bit of it: if a cat could be an underdog, Tom fitted the bill perfectly and he had my unwavering support. Indeed, my appreciation of the cartoons was in inverse proportion to the damage inflicted on Tom. Regardless of the animation quality and amusing routines, I found it difficult to enjoy any film which had him humiliated and outwitted not only by Jerry but also other revolting rodents and even a cute little duckling in Little Quacker.
Dozens of these films were churned out by MGM in the late forties and early fifties, several of them scooping actual Oscars. Fortunately the American Academy tended to reward the ones which went beyond a mere sequence of violent set-pieces. Two examples were set, not in an anonymous semi-rural house redolent of the Deep South, but in an historic setting. The basic plot of ‘Tom chases Jerry, Jerry gets the better of Tom’ was essentially intact but both Johann Mouse and The Two Mouseketeers also included some particularly clever ideas and delightfully delivered visual gags.
Tom and Jerry cartoons could appear in the BBC1 schedule just about anywhere and anytime when children were expected to watch, in those days probably no later than 7pm by which junction all youngsters were of course safely tucked up in bed. T&J were most likely to fill gaps in schedules early on a Saturday evening. If lucky, there might be a double-bill stretching to twenty minutes. Of course, depending on what happened to Tom, that could herald a teatime treat or toe-curling torture. My 1973 Slumberland diary offered little space for real insights into personal observations on life, yet I always found room to note the titles of each T&J cartoon I watched, along with a rating. These were on a scale of A+ to E-, although I don’t think anything warranted either extreme.
The worst scores tended to be given for the more ‘modern’, 1960s versions of the franchise. I’d know immediately. If the opening credits didn’t include the names of Hanna and Barbera as directors, Scott Bradley behind the music and the full-screen signature of producer Fred Quimby, my heart tended to sink. Another giveaway was when Tom depicted as an overgrown kitten bounding on four legs. Such films rarely merited more than a C. In ’73, the highest values were attributed to That’s My Boy and The Truce Hurts. It’s no coincidence that both featured the two principals along with resident dog Spike (or occasionally Killer!).
The introduction of a third character increased the possibility that sympathies would shift towards Tom, given that he would be the target of the ferocious canine. I think The Truce Hurts is probably the most fondly-remembered film of all, with its plot involving the three adversaries agreeing an uneasy peace to save further bloodshed. It all came to nought once the dog allocates to himself an unfairly huge portion of a steak. Was this a political allegory, given its 1948 production date? No matter; to this schoolboy it was highly satisfying stuff. Even more gratifying were the all-too-rare instances when Tom and Jerry set aside their differences to defeat a common foe. In Old Rockin’ Chair Tom, the pair took revenge on a replacement cat introduced by the black housekeeper (we never saw her face) because the incumbent left a lot to be desired in the pest control department. Tom was unemployed, Jerry under greater threat so they united temporarily to restore the status quo. It’s been many years since I’ve seen T&J on the box. Perhaps they retain a place on specialist digital channels, or are they considered too violent for the twenty-first century little angels? I believe a new feature film is in preparation but I won’t be watching. The MGM-era Tom simply cannot be surpassed.
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