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Avery's dislike of
Disney's sentimental excesses fueled much of his work, and
the first thing we notice about his versions of similar
material are the radically different settings. Whereas in a
film like Snow White Disney painstakingly reproduced
the forest backdrop familiar from the written fairy tale,
Avery dispenses entirely with such imagery in favor of urban
hot-spots like pool halls and nightclubs. Much of the action
of his most famous fairy tales ó Red Hot Riding
Hood, Swing Shift Cinderella, and Little Rural Riding
Hood ó takes place in a nightclub. In
Cinderella Meets Fella, he masterfully merges the
traditions of Old Europe and New America in a single image:
a bar called "Ye Olde Beere Jointe." Where Avery does use
the kind of rural setting common to fairy tales, he makes it
insufferably Disneyesque; in The Bear's Tale, the
camera self-consciously pans the same woodland so many
times, with a mocking narrator each time intoning "...the
beautiful green forest," that the effect becomes purposely
enervating. For Disney, the visual truth of a setting, and
the resulting suspension of disbelief, was crucial in
involving the viewer in the world onscreen. For Avery, the
logic of the gag, which frequently called attention to the
story-as-invention, always surpasses the need for mere
verisimilitude.
The fairy tale plot
tends to be grimly schematic and deterministic: the reader
knows that dire events will follow from Red Riding Hood
telling the wolf where her grandmother lives. Avery's
"plots" (one must use quote marks) are filled with
distancing devices and narrative ruptures that make the
universe appear far less predictable. In The Bear's
Tale, the story itself is fractured, as Red Riding Hood
inexplicably appears in what's supposed to be an account of
"Goldilocks and the Three Bears." (Red saves Goldie from the
wolf by reaching over the split-screen line that separates
them.) In Little Red Walking Hood, the action of the
story is interrupted, to the loud disgust of the actor-wolf
and actor-girl, by what appear to be real-life silhouettes
of people clumsily entering the theatre and trying to find a
seat to see the cartoon. Cinderella Meets Fella has a
happier version of this distancing device, as Cinderella
disappears, only to turn up as a real-life shadow waving and
yelling at "Fella" (who's still onscreen and in the
narrative proper) from the audience watching the cartoon.
Avery's inclusion of the audience ó even in
silhouette form ó in the story undermines the linear
narrative, and any potential moral that might be derived
from it, by pointing out that these are, after all, only
fictional inventions.
Avery
has never been considered a "personality animator" in the
mode of Disney, and never thought of himself as such, though
it's hard not to see "personality" in characters like the
eternally aroused Wolf, or the stupidly self-absorbed papa
Bear in The Bear's Tale, or for that matter in his
sexy, droll Cinderellas and Red Riding Hoods. While Disney
is correctly credited with singlehandedly rescuing the
animated cartoon from the simple gag orientation of the
silent era, many of his much-vaunted "characters" are quite
dull, particularly the saccharine fairy tale heroines
Cinderella and Snow White. (He got more mileage out of the
Wolf in the Three Little Pigs, perhaps because of
that film's unavoidable connection to the too-close terrors
of the Depression.) Contrast the Disney version with Avery's
Swing Shift Cinderella. Key elements of this familiar
tale are blithely dumped; there's no glass slipper here, or
tearful reunion with the prince. (There's no prince.) For
love interest, Avery recruits Red Riding Hood's horny Wolf.
Cinderella's no longer the timid drudge of Disney, Grimm, or
Perrault, but a busty pin-up babe who does a sexy
song-and-dance act that drives the wolf into a frenzy of
lust. The story becomes increasingly unrecognizable, no
longer a morality tale about the rewards of being "good" but
a campy erotic farce in which the Wolf pursues Cinderella
while trying to resist the equally frantic attentions of an
aged fairy godmother on the make.
Avery's relentless
sexual motifs are a crucial part of his attack on Disney. In
The Bear's Tale, Goldilocks is skipping through the
forest with exaggeratedly cloying moves, swinging her hands
wildly through the air with a vacuous grin. But it's typical
of Avery that he rescues her from the Disneyesque bathos her
first appearance implies; she confronts the Wolf in
Grandma's bed, and he's disgusted with the fact that she's
not Red Riding Hood. She then does a surprisingly lascivious
stroll in front of him and says provocatively, "What's she
got that I haven't got?" Red is no longer the blank
identification figure of the written versions, waiting for
rescue by the hunter, but a willful, sexually aware gamin
who may be as attracted to the wolf as he is to her.
Little Red Walking Hood is another visually childlike
character, at least in height, who shows an adult sexuality;
her courtship by the wolf is typical of a kind of comic
quasi-bestiality theme that runs through Avery's
work.
Avery
discussed this idea in an interview with Joe Adamson; it was
something he was well aware of in his career because he had
censorship problems with it. The title character of Red
Hot Riding Hood was designed as a pin-up, to boost Army
morale, but the Hays Office objected to the wolf's reaction
to Red ó "showing body heat, the steam coming out of
the collar, and the tongue rolling out" and forced Avery to
make cuts. "Sometimes we would just stiffen him out in
mid-air; he'd make a take and his whole body would stiffen
out like an arrow! And they cut that one out on us." Such
imagery was apparently important enough to Avery that,
rather than capitulate, he devised a strategy to salvage it.
He would insert a number of over-the-top gags he knew would
be cut, and the ones he really wanted would be left alone by
a then-satisfied censor.5
Like Djuna Barnes, Avery knew that kids ó and
soldiers ó "like Red Riding Hood and the wolf in
bed!"

Next
Page: Avery's
favorite fairy-tale heroine
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