A Line Is Drawn

Clowns have been fooling around reportedly since the days of the Pharaohs. Evolving from the familiar court jesters to the more defined characters of the Commedia Del Arte and the sad-faced fools of the circus, their most consistent reason for being is to make us laugh by looking at ourselves.

Brothers Max and Dave Fleischer were probably not laughing much at themselves in the first decade of the 1900s, nor were they pondering the history of comedy and laughter. Their mental efforts were focused on an idea of rotoscoping for the movies – filming a live-actor then tracing over the figure in the film-cells to give an effect of a literal moving picture. Needing something interesting to trace, as well as something that would not cost a lot of money (given their probable respective income at the time, as noted here) they remembered a clown suit Dave owned and decided to see how that would work with their invention. The result was one of animation’s first real stars: Koko the Clown.

A good number of Koko’s early cartoons, along with some entertaining documentaries on the history of the Fleischer Studios and animation are available in the recently released Popeye the Sailor DVD collection.

Koko’s character is most-like the “First Zany” clown of the Commedia Del Arte School – a clever rascal who often attempts to go against his master’s wishes. The “master” in Koko’s case is Max Fleischer. On film and in real life Max Fleischer is God in his studio, forcing Koko (played on film for later rotoscoping by Brother Dave) into sometimes-cruel and more-times petty situations. And while Max may come up with an initial story, Dave as Koko supplies the beats that make the several minutes of life so energetically entertaining.

In “The Tantalizing Fly” from 1919, possibly their first Koko cartoon, Max "draws" Koko on a large blank page, despite the constant interruption of an annoying fly. The fly is from real-life – it is unknown how they animated the pest’s movements.

Max tries to put this uncontrollable menace under his thumb with a fly swatter, missing the target and hitting instead poor Koko – literally drawing stars and a moon from the clown. Koko yanks away the pen from his "boss" and tries to bop the endless pest himself – but instead rains ink in heavy drops everywhere on the page and into the real world of Max’s face.

“I’ll draw a fly trap,” Koko announces and inks out a bald man snoozing in stillness, cross-legged on a chair. The fly goes for the tempting target of the hairless head, circling the man’s pate. Every time Koko raises the pen for a final blow, the fly flits off until Koko sneaks behind the man, smashes in, and…hits the head instead of the fly. The man jumps up berating the clown for the rude awakening. Koko sticks out the pen and sucks the man of ink back into his nibs.

Koko then tears the page and dives through the hole. Max turns the paper over where Koko’s back is to the audience, captured in mid-dive downward. Max shakes the page over the inkwell and Koko goes back to his original state – a pool of ink sliding back into the inkwell. The fly follows and Max’s hand seals the deal. The End. Four minutes since The Beginning.

Though Max is God and Creator in most Koko stories, his creation’s antics show that the clown too can be a creator – sometimes quite literally, as when Koko takes control of the pen from Max.

An actual plot for the films is not generally part of the creative process in the early efforts. These cartoons usually consist of nothing more than “one damned thing after another”: one action takes you off on another tangent. No thoughts for the future, only the here and now are important. Every action a reaction, breeding another action and so on until the end when every character, except Max goes back to the inkwell to rest until the next cartoon.

MODELING (1921)

Two years and a handful of cartoons later and the brothers Fleischer have already made what appear to be great leaps in their understanding of the new technology they were building as needed. In “Modeling” from 1921 they combine not only live-action and rotoscope, but they have also added animated drawing and stop-motion Claymation to their toolbox.

They've also included a semblance of a plot: While Max draws Koko, a visitor in an adjacent studio sits for a bust modeled after himself. Mayhem ensues.

Koko continues living under the quick-tempered whim of Max but he still takes what is thrown at him (sometimes literally – here, a glob of clay) and makes the most of it, joyously. No thought for tomorrow weighs him down. His life span, each incarnation of his new life, only lasts the length of the new cartoon before returning at the end to the well of ink from which he is born anew each time.

The childishness is natural. Koko retains no thought more than an instinctual instant reaction to whatever appears in his path. Skates drawn on his feet, a new background of frozen lake applied behind him and after a bit of flailing around he soon takes to the ice, as with each new situation, like a pro.

You know how each new life of his begins; you know how it will end. You do not know what he will fill up his life with in the time between.

Here is ‘Modeling’… Again with the sales pitch: You can buy it along with a hefty helping of Popeye here.

The silence of these shorts may be overly-deafening -- we're so accustomed to some sort of music and sound-effects with our cartoons. Louis Armstrong’s Hot Fives collection, contemporary to these Kokos, is a good soundtrack though others have tried light jazz (when the cartoons first came to television as in the example above) and techno.

The Fleischer’s later cartoons during the “talkie” phase utilized their good taste in music for their soundtracks – featuring Louis Armstrong, Cab Calloway and others. A documentary on the Popeye set notes their studio was located near New York’s Tin Pan Alley where the great tunes of the day by Gershwin, Berlin and others was in the air, in the midst of creation. Their silent Kokos however, the fluid story without a real story, demonstrate their tremendous musical spirit.

Koko may dance to a song only the Fleischers can hear but his movements amid the constant creation on-screen will make your mind and heart sing. Moreover, perhaps you might even reflect on how you spend the unknown amount of time allotted yourself.