Tom the Cat - destined never to be top dog

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.

Homer Simpson - Dumb but Loveable

Thirty years ago, if someone had submitted to me that an animated character from Rupert Murdoch’s media empire would have entered my pantheon of TV legends I’d have laughed in their face. As the fledgling BSkyB began to take its insidious grip on the nation’s sporting rights, and satellite dishes sprouted on buildings across the land, I was willing it to fail. When ‘Do the Bartman’ topped the charts in 1991 it represented to me everything that was wrong with the world. Bart’s hit single wasn’t funny, the protagonist’s video was simply annoying and so The Simpsons simply had to be crap. Didn’t it?

Working for the BBC, I felt affronted by its very existence. My colleagues’ office discussions of how hilarious this Sky One product was smacked of treachery, a betrayal of our employers’ trust. Yet why were such intelligent young research professionals falling under its spell? There was no way on earth I would subscribe to Sky but when in 1996 the Beeb signed up old series to broadcast at 6pm on BBC2 I tentatively sneaked a look. After all, it was now on ‘my’ channel so I couldn’t consider it an act of infidelity.

It soon became obvious that The Simpsons was no longer merely an all-pervasive vehicle for a porn-peddling media mogul bent on world domination. It was bloody hilarious! It wasn’t all about an incorrigible naughty child, either. There were dozens of rounded characters, the visual and verbal gags flew thick and fast and I’d never watched anything quite like it.

Brought up on Bugs Bunny, Tom and Jerry, Wacky Races and The Pink Panther Show, cartoon comedy had been an integral part of my childhood. But The Simpsons was not a kids’ show; it looked like it, with over-sized heads and four-fingered hands, but the humour was far more grown-up. Even Mum was won over and one evening made the perceptive comment that you forgot you were watching an animation. They were all bloody yellow, for heaven’s sake, yet the family traits and relationships were all too human. This was actually one of the most sophisticated sitcoms on the box.

That’s one adjective that couldn’t be applied to patriarch Homer Simpson. While Bart is engagingly devious, Marge the sweet and naïve homemaker and Lisa by far the smartest person in Springfield, Homer is as dumb as they come. His internal conversations with what passes for a brain are legendary.  It also speaks volumes about the USA that Homer is held up as an all-American hero. Fat, lazy, addicted to Duff beer, TV and junk food, this white, working-class stereotype really shouldn’t be such a popular icon. Yet, from his early somewhat unappealing character, Homer has risen to take the world by storm. 

Much of the credit must go to the man behind the voice, Dan Castellanata. For three decades he has brilliantly imbued this boorish oaf with such humanity that we forgive Homer his selfishness and incompetence, cheering his attempts to be a better dad and husband, even if he often struggles to remember baby Maggie’s name. Castellanata voices other characters, from Krusty the Clown to the Kennedy-esque corrupt Mayor Quimby, alcoholic Barny to Grampa Abe, but Homer is his greatest achievement.

The staccato catchphrase “D’oh!” was inducted into the Oxford English Dictionary in 2001 and my personal vocabulary even earlier than that. He gets so many great lines, too. The hilarious homespun philosophy of Homer Simpson could fill volumes, although my favourites include:-

    “Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is never try”;

  “For once maybe someone will call me ‘sir’ without adding ‘You're making a              scene’";

    “English? Who needs that? I’m never going to England”            

Actually Homer does get to travel overseas. Some of my favourite episodes revolve around Homer’s interaction with foreigners, especially if it’s on their own territory. These scenes invariably contain more laughs than a whole canon of Chevy Chase movies. While there may be dubious stereotyping, I feel reassured that whenever Homer is involved it’ll be Americans who come off the worst. 

In the world of animation, even one as firmly rooted in American suburbia as The Simpsons, we viewers have to expect the unexpected. In addition to the annual tradition of Halloween spook-taculars, Homer has been in space, won a Grammy, climbed a mountain single-handed and fought President Bush but so far he has never actually been elected to the White House. In this Trumpian era of celebrating ignorance, he’s way too intelligent for that!

Our favourite golden-headed father has also been responsible for all kinds of nuclear disasters. Creator Matt Groening ingeniously employed the world’s second stupidest man as a safety technician at Mr Burns’ notoriously insecure nuclear power plant. What could possibly go wrong?

Of course, things going wrong around Homer are what the programmes are about. Whether he’s losing at Monopoly, being a rubbish member of the Mob or trying to build a barbecue we just love to see him running around like a headless chicken “Doh” ing for all he’s worth. And yet such circumstances make those moments of familial bliss all the more adorable, such as at Maggie’s birth or when Homer and Marge try to get all romantic, especially in the flashback episodes.

How on earth did a dimwit like Homer ever win the heart of Marge anyway? Of course, this has been handled in many storylines over the years, not all of them obeying the laws of continuity, but basically if you love dumb animals, you gotta love Homer. He may have evolved his features and voice over the years but basically he has the personality of a puppy: all boundless optimism and energy, living for the moment and undying love for anyone who’ll supply him with food and drink. OK, so that could just as easily apply to Moe’s Tavern or the popcorn seller at the ballgame, but Homer just wants what, deep down, we all crave: love, respect and getting one over on the neighbours.

I don’t tend to see many of the new episodes but In a world of coronavirus, political shenanigans or personal emotional turmoil, The Simpsons – and Dan Castellanata’s Homer in particular – will always provide enough laugh-out-loud scenes to make the world considerably brighter.