Hanna-Barbera “Classics” – The Second Instalment

In my first nostalgic look through some of the many wondrous programs and characters of the Hanna-Barbera studios, I discovered that, as well as creating many, many hours of top-notch animated viewing, they also liked creating spin-offs, reusing ideas over numerous shows, and that they loved star turns by people who had no right to be given their own cartoon. This second look back through the archives will be more of the same, basically, with no real aim and no real purpose except to entertain you, and to perhaps make you remember a portion of your childhood that you had subconsciously locked away deep at the back of your minds.

So, as the great Sylvester McCoy once said on “The Hartnell Years” video tape, “Let’s take a look, at was the very first episode of… Doctor Who!”

Well, yes, quite…

1. Wally Gator (First appeared in 1962)

This jauntily-hatted cretin appears to be one of those cartoon characters that you never entirely forget, but you can’t really remember much of either. This is certainly the case with me. Whilst I remember he had his own run of episodes (with an abominable theme tune) at some stage or other, all I can recall is that he was basically another in the long line of talking bipedal animals that Hanna-Barbera loved to create. In fact, Wally was a carbon copy of the famous Yogi Bear: both are animals living in an area in which they have a certain degree of freedom, but want more – and so they often get into trouble with the supervisor of the place, be it the park ranger for Yogi or the zookeeper for Wally. He was also voiced by the same chap who gave vocals for Huckleberry Hound, meaning he was even more closely linked to the rest of the wise-talking animal bunch.

One reason for the character being almost totally forgotten is that, unlike other unmemorable characters such as Inch High, he never had his own show. His role was to comprise a third of “The New Hanna-Barbera Show”, alongside segments starring a turtle and some lions. This meant that any segment featuring Wally would only have lasted for about 10 minutes at the very most. In fact, it was because of the shortness of his episodes that I probably remember him at all – his was a program that could easily be slot into any empty 10-15 minute gap in the Cartoon Network schedules (Cartoon Network being a classy channel for all the top notch cartoons when I was a kid – now it’s been swamped by crappy Japanese anime shows and programs about the Grim Reaper). I don’t recall the other stars of “The New Hanna-Barbera Show” at all, which means that they were probably even worse than Wally Gator, and therefore utterly beneath contempt, until I review them in a later instalment once I’ve run out of ideas.

After 51 episodes of TNHBS, Wally all but vanished from our TV screens, popping up over the years to appear in ensemble pieces and movies, such as the many Yogi Bear gatherings, alongside far superior characters like Snagglepuss and Huckleberry Hound. I can’t remember much of him at all, and it would appear that no one else can either, so I think I might as well leave this sorry fool alone.

2. Birdman (1967)

Whilst we’ve already seen examples of Hanna-Barbera shows that either had their formula repeated over and over, or were in fact repeats of established formats, I’ve yet to touch upon one of the genres often used by this wonderful institution – the superhero genre, of which Birdman was one of them. Generally, these were shows with no grey areas: there was a goody, wearing pants, and a baddy, wearing leather. Shows generally ran thus:

Baddy unleashes deadly and ludicrous plot. “Ha ha!” he cries, “This device will poison the oceans/ destroy the gravity of the world / help me break into Barclays bank!” They then begin to use the device on completely different targets, which prove to be effective, in a generally namby-pamby sort of way.

The hero, sitting in his secret base situated underground / in a volcano / in a council flat, finds out about the scheme via a bloke with a white moustache on a video link. Hero flies / drives / jogs to the latest nefarious situation, aided by his pet falcon / monkey / undereducated sibling, and finds the baddy, whereupon he wrestles with him / punches him / shoots at him until the day is saved. Everyone cheers for a bit and the hero presents us with a dubious moral message.

Birdman was one of the most pathetic of the many superheroes who lived his life like this. All heroes have their weaknesses, sure: maybe exposure to a rare mineral, or electricity. Birdman was so weedy that he’d basically whither if he wasn’t in direct contact with the Sun. So, if the baddy were tunnelling underneath the ground with a bloody big bomb, Birdman would just shrug his shoulders and go and sit in the corner like the big wuss that he was. I distinctly remember episodes in which, after having flown to the scene of the crime, the baddy would simply use a big dish to block out the Sun, or, even simpler, would just lock Birdman in a building, whereupon Birdman would flop to the floor, utterly powerless. He’d then call on his pet bird, Avenger, to get him out of his latest failure. To be frank, he was a loser, and could have been defeated by a mildly determined baby with a rattle.

Birdman, this isn’t an expression I usually use, but it’s particularly apt right now: you sucked.

3. The 13 Ghosts of Scooby Doo (1985)

I’m aware that on another section of this site, an author has written a particularly splendid review of the concept of Scooby Doo, and has made comments on the original Scooby show, namely “Scooby Doo, Where are you?” I’ve decided to not touch on these aspects of this notable cartoon legend out of politeness, but I shall review the other, more wide-ranging, and far worse shows that Scooby “graced” with his imbecilic presence.

I liked the first Scooby Doo show. Its characters were fun, on the whole, and the shows were sometimes disturbing and creepy to the younger mind (particularly the ones with the funfair robot and the white “sheet” ghost). However, as the premise was dragged kicking and screaming through the years, it began to lose it’s initial magic and eventually just became plain rubbish. The appearance of Scrappy-Doo was the first signifier of the bad times ahead, but even then I doubt anyone could have seen something so utterly preposterous as this load of arse.

By this stage, Freddy, the blonde guy with the grin, and Velma, the spectacled one, had been dispensed with. In this latest incarnation of the show, Scooby is travelling alongside Scrappy, Shaggy (the only character who managed to keep a semblance of dignity throughout the years), an almost unrecognisable Daphne, and new character Flim-Flam, a mop-topped little kid who looked like a cross between Gary Coleman and Matthew Waterhouse.

Scooby opens a chest containing the 13 most deadly and terrifying ghosts and ghouls (why the chest was left lying about for any passing simpleton to open is anyone’s guess) and must spend a series trying to capture them all again. They are set this task, and later “aided”, by, of all people, Vincent Price. I kid you not.

The series was for the most part very twee, with evil ghouls named Maldor the Malevolent, Zomba, and an evil demon called Demondo (sigh). The regulars, rather than treating everything with the utmost seriousness as had been par for the course in the original series, decided to play it for laughs, with most episodes containing a superfluous bit in which Flim-Flam concocted an “hilarious” scheme involving disguises that always disastrously failed. How the creators must have laughed. How the TV viewers must have turned off in droves.

It was for the most part a rather embarrassing show, and should never be talked of again.

4. Top Cat (1961)

Whilst looking back over this article, I discovered that, for a piece which proclaims an investigation into the classics of Hanna-Barbera, I’d reviewed three totally rubbish ones on the trot. So, to keep us all happy, here is a bona-fide cartoon classic.

Another of the bipedal animal shows, this was the most superior version of the format. In it, Top Cat and his band of merry cats (the clueless Brain, the rather camp Choo-Choo, the almost indistinguishable and often mixed up Spook and Fancy-Fancy, and the cream of top-notchness Benny the Ball) lived in an alley situated in New York. Here they got involved in a series of entertaining small-scale adventures, which often featured the insufferable Officer Dibble. It’s of no great secret that this show was modelled on some of Phil Silvers’ “Sgt. Bilko” programs. However, this merely means that the show is far slicker than many of those cartoon shows before or since, and had brilliant performances from the cast (Allen Jenkins starred as TC) who fleshed out wonderfully witty scripts. There isn’t much I can really talk about when it comes to this show, as it’s far more difficult to analyse something that’s great rather than something that’s pants. All I can really say is that if you ever get a chance to catch this program, then you should take it – you’ll be basking yourself in cartoon heaven.

He’s the chief, he’s the king, but above everything he’s the most tip-top, and he’s bloody marvellous.

Well, that’s it for another episode. Hope you enjoyed yourselves; I certainly have. Till next we meet – and if anyone has any suggestions or requests, you can email me.

Cheers!

25th November 2003