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The Woody Woodpecker and Friends Classic Cartoon Collection Volume 2 features a heavy amount of films from the era that has given Lantz its less than stellar reputation, the 1950s and onward, when Lantz took the defunct Screen Gems studio’s notoriety as the “West Coast Terrytoons”. Walter Lantz was a very poor businessman (backed up by the fact he closed his studio no less than three times), and, as Mark Mayerson writes, probably didn’t have a keen eye for talent.

The evolution of the studio is interesting and it can be seen on this set. Throughout the 1930s and 1940s, the animators are trying to compete with Disney on a much smaller budget. The results are mixed, ranging from great (Emery Hawkins, Pat Matthews, Verne Harding) to just plain bad (Grim Natwick). After the final reopening of the studio in 1950, the animation was just cranked out, and was arguably the cheapest looking at the time.

It’s interesting to note that Lantz was really the only studio never to artistically take on the UPA style (really glorified TV animation). Lantz didn’t like ‘fads’, which is why he scrapped the original plans for Plywood Panic and Hot Noon (both were intended for release in 3-D) and why he never made cartoons in Cinemascope, which would have even further exposed the cheapened animation (see the widescreen shorts on the Tom & Jerry and Droopy sets for examples of this).

The set features the first bulk of shorts directed by Paul J. Smith, who is often regarded as the biggest hack-director in Golden Age animation, and is responsible for the Lantz cartoons of the worst kind. He is certainly down there on the list of worst cartoon directors, but I think someone like Charles Nichols at Disney may beat him. As incompetent a filmmaker Smith was, at least he was aware that it wasn’t 1936 anymore. I was able to slug through quite a few of the Smith Woody’s on disc three. I had to shut off both of the Pluto sets after about two cartoons apiece.

Smith also had Les Kline in his unit when he returned to the studio in 1956, which was a major blow (Kline would also do layouts). Kline would occasionally do a great piece of animation in the 1940s (Solid Ivory in particular), but here he draws the most unappealing, hideous characters ever. It looks like it’s been drawn straight ahead with a rotten dog turd that was mistaken as a charcoal pencil.

Smith wasn’t a total hack in his earliest days though. He had good animators like Warner veteran Herman Cohen, and even a few of his cartoons are written by Mike Maltese, like Real Gone Woody, a satire of 1950s high school culture that’s written and cut like a Frank Tashlin cartoon. Arts and Flowers is just plain good.

Leonard Maltin equating Smith with Warner director Bob McKimson has enraged most fans, but it’s not too exaggerated. Both were fairly ignorant of what was going on artistically in the animation world, and both felt it appropriate to settle on ugly layouts and character designs (Smith’s own animation would be in the funny/ugly category, which may explain it, but McKimson’s liking of bad designs is one of cartoon history’s greatest mysteries). But McKimson never descended to the level of Smith’s films, even on his worst days, so it’s a rather moot point.

Smith aside, this set features interesting directorial efforts by several animation notables. Shamus Culhane’s Boogie Woogie Man is a wonderfully crafted cartoon with jive-talking, zoot suit wearing black ghosts teaching the residents of a ghost town how to be hep. Culhane also directs the bizarre “Andy Panda” cartoons (in quotes, as Andy hardly appears at all in them) The Painter and the Pointer and Mousie Come Home. All of them feature extensive animation by Emery Hawkins.

Dick Lundy comes through with a strong Andy musical, The Poet and Peasant (with a hilarious fox-goose battle animated jointly by Hawkins and Pat Matthews). Lundy’s Pixie Picnic and Dog Tax Dodgers feature some slick animation by Fred Moore.

Don Patterson is interesting, as he seemed to be trying to do above-average cartoons on a shoestring budget. Convict Concerto is probably his most well-known and best cartoon, but he was more often bizarre with shorts like Termites from Mars, Wrestling Wrecks, and Alley to Bali. Bizarre is at least more interesting than hackwork.

Alex Lovy returned to the studio in 1955 as a director. His films are better than Smith’s, but there’s not much in them to rave about, though he did a good job at preserving the cartoony layouts and animation that Tex Avery instilled into the studio during his short time there. Of his shorts presented here, I like Hold That Rock and To Catch a Woodpecker best.

Two of Sid Marcus’ Chilly Willy cartoons, Deep Freeze Squeeze and Half-Baked Alaska are included, and it was a delight to see them again. Warner legend Art Davis was at the studio animating for Marcus (an old friend), and did some very slick and funny work for the time period (he was at the studio from 1963-66).

The rest of the set’s cartoons are mixed. We have a fantastic Li’l Eightball (not P.C.) short by Burt Gillett, A-Haunting We Will Go, a jazzy retelling of the Three Little Pigs, The Hams That Couldn’t Be Cured (directed by Lantz himself), complete with capital punishment, and Alex Lovy’s Juke Box Jamboree, featuring a cute mouse getting wasted and hallucinating.

The black-and-white shorts, overall, are not too good. They are weak in comparison to the ones on the last set, which were at least weird rather than bland, unlike the ones seen here. Puppet Show is a strange short with an animated bland white Oswald performing with live-action marionettes that aren’t exactly sensitive to blacks and homosexuals.

I’ll have to retract my statement of no DVNR. It’s there on a few cartoons, but I have to still frame it to notice it, like on the Looney Tunes Golden Collection Vol. 1. And I don’t think anyone is going to be still framing the Smith-Kline cartoons for study.

I’m not sure what Universal’s source for their transfers are. They are dark and murky here, while on the out-of-print Columbia House DVDs, they look beautiful (but are edited for TV versions, usually lopping off the credits). A straight answer to this question would be wonderful. As little as two years ago, I wouldn’t have thought a set like this could exist (let alone two of them). Most of my Lantz collection previously was recorded off TV anyway. So if I can’t really find much justification in complaining, the majority of the fans, who never engaged in film collecting or VHS tape exchanging, shouldn’t either.

The most fascinating of the extras are, as always, the “Moment with Walter Lantz” segments. Lantz is a modest, charming host in these bits showing the general public how his animated cartoons are made. Lantz didn’t want to give the audience the impression that he ran a small studio, so he gave a lot of the artists from all over the studio screen time, and even identified a few by name (off the top of my head, he identifies Lovy, Smith, and Homer Brightman). You sure can’t say the same for the other Walt.

Having said all of that, I will always have a soft spot for the ‘cartunes’ produced by Walter Lantz. I think what played a role in that is the amount of research I did when I used to maintain The Walter Lantz Cartune Encyclopedia. Lantz is my favorite of the ‘forgotten’ studios, and I am glad the cartoons are gaining a modicum of acceptance.

Even with the amount of potboilers, it’s 75 cartoons, and a good bulk of them very fine ones. The DVNR is turned off for the most part. And it’s thirty bucks. So you can’t go wrong.

Art Davis animation from Deep Freeze Squeeze

Crazy Homer Brightman on To Catch a Woodpecker