Felix the Cat
by David Krell
david@davidkrell.com
In 1995, Felix the Cat returned to television in CBS’ Saturday morning program The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat. The program lasted two seasons.
Felix has actually been around since the silent film era. He debuted in 1919. Throughout the 1920’s Jazz Age, Felix dominated popular culture. Felix films relied heavily on personalities, events, and issues of the day.
In 1919, Pat Sullivan and his assistant, Otto Messmer, produced Feline Follies for Paramount Screen Magazine, an infotainment combination shown with the feature film. Truth be told, Messmer was the primary creative force behind Felix the Cat, though Sullivan continually claimed credit as he owned the animation studio.
Feline Follies features Felix hallmarks, including the various uses of Felix anatomy. For example, the tail changes into a question mark, toothbrush, and scooter baseboard. Other items also transform, a common occurrence in Felix films. Musical notes from a banjo form the wheels for the scooter baseboard.
The main character in Feline Follies is a Felix prototype, Master Tom. The Felix moniker would not come into play until the third film.
The story takes place in Pussyville.
Master Tom differs somewhat from the mischievous yet innocent Felix familiar to audiences. He has an edgier, manipulative, and deceptive personality. It manifests when he tries to seduce Miss Kitty White, a female feline. What goes around comes around as Master Tom learns of Kitty’s huge litter. He attempts suicide by sucking on a gas pipe outside the gas company.
John Canemaker explores Felix’ early history and Messmer’s vital yet largely hidden contribution in his 1991 book Felix: The Twisted Tale of the World’s Most Famous Cat.
But the shocking finale is also a barometer of the country’s mood as America entered the twenties. Otto Messmer went to war and was one of two million young men exposed to death on a grand scale; that sobering experience is reflected in his unsentimental animation.
Canemaker notes that Earl Hurd compiled the animation part of Paramount Screen Magazine. Hurd approached Sullivan to fill in for another animator. Sullivan turned the job over to his associate. Later, Sullivan regained the rights to Felix from Paramount.
Canemaker also illustrates the forces, contributions, and imaginations of Messmer and Sullivan. [Felix’] rise to stardom resulted from a symbiotic professional relationship between a shy artist and an aggressive entrepreneur. Otto Messmer, an unusually meek but highly creative cartoonist, devised and directed the films, and gave Felix his individuality -- he was the first animated character in a film series to have a unique personality. Producer-studio owner Pat Sullivan was an exceptional cartoonist but a good salesman, who fought for international distribution of the films and high-visibility merchandising contracts. It was a fortuitous combination, for Felix would not have gone as far as he did without the contributions of both men.
But the Sullivan-Messmer ‘partnership’ was also grossly inequitable: Messmer never received public credit for his contributions to the Felix films nor did he own any rights in the character’s lucrative image. All credit and moneys went to Sullivan, whose parsimony extended to the production of the films. They were made as cheaply as possible by limiting the size and the staff (and their salaries) and skimping on technology.
Nevertheless, Otto Messmer would eventually receive proper recognition from a later generation of animation historians, fans, and collectors who rightfully praised Messmer’s often brilliant efforts.
Messmer, Sullivan, et. al. employed signs of the times throughout the 1920’s Felix silent films. They established Felix hallmarks, increased Felix’ exposure, and formed the character’s foundation, personality, and appeal. Felix’ resourcefulness in changing an object’s utility is perhaps the most enduring character trait.
Because the Felix series began in the silent era, the visual appeal was a primary concern. Many of the inventive sight gags in these cartoons compare favorably to the best live-action endeavors of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. Hal Erickson furthers the point in his 1995 book Television Cartoon Shows, 1949-1993.
The felicitous feline’s famous stunt repertoire, most notably his mobile, removable tail which functioned at various times as everything from a vaulting pole to a question mark, cemented his image in the collective consciousness of silent movie fans the world over.
Recalling Charles Lindbergh, The Non-Stop Fright (1927) depicts Felix trying to win a flight contest with a $50,000 prize. Felix creates his plane with dizzy symbols for a propeller, sandwich boards for wings, the number ‘4’ for a chair, and a barrel for the chassis.
Felix Saves the Day (1922) uses the baseball motif as the sport began to regain popularity after the 1919 Black Sox scandal, mostly thanks to Babe Ruth. Felix climbs his own question marks to see the jailed Willie Brown, star of the Nifty Nine baseball team. Brown is in jail because he hit a ball into a policeman’s mouth. At New York City’s Polo Grounds, Felix replaces Willie on the Nifty Nine in a game against the Tar Heels. With the Nifty Nine losing, Felix does the next best thing to hitting a game-winning home run. He hits an ultra-high ball that strikes Jupiter Pluvius. It enrages the god to rain out the game.
Felix Saves the Day incorporates still photographs and live-action footage of crowds at a major league baseball game.
In Felix in Hollywood (1923), Felix changes his own shape into the shape of his actor roommate’s bag. Felix fools the roommate and gains a trip to Hollywood where he encounters several celebrities of the day at Static Studios. While watching Gloria Swanson through a keyhole, Felix receives a warning from cross-eyed Ben Turpin to cease such activity, not because it’s lewd but because he might get his eyes crossed like Turpin’s.
At an audition, Felix imitates Charlie Chaplin and runs into the silent film comedian -- must to his dismay as Chaplin accuses Felix of stealing his ‘stuff.’ Felix parodies Chaplin in a later film, The Cold Rush (1925).
In Felix the Cat Woos Whoopee (1928), drinking, dancing, and partying are the standards of the day at the appropriately named Whoopee Club. While Felix enjoys, his better half waits impatiently at home. Alcohol deeply affects Felix, resulting in several amusing hallucinations.
Other Felix cartoons of the era include Felix Dopes It Out (1924), Felix the Cat in Futuritzy (1928), and Felix the Cat in Comicalamities (1928).
The Otto Messmer series of Felix cartoons halted in 1929 as a result of Pat Sullivan’s reluctance to convert to sound.
Sullivan’s 1933 death combined with the advent of sound and color sparked a change in Felix the Cat. The visibility of the simple, silent black and white Felix narrowed with Messmer’s comic strip being the primary venue, a far cry from the mass exposure and consequent popularity provided by films.
In 1935, animation producer Amedee Van Beuren came to Messmer with a comeback proposal. The proposal reached realization in 1936 with a trio of films featuring Felix -- The Goose that Laid the Golden Egg, Neptune Nonsense, and Bold King Cole.
Although ambitious in the use of Technicolor and music (Winston Sharples), Van Beuren and former Disney director Burt Gillet did not utilize Felix’ familiar characteristics. He somehow gets lost in the shuffle. A character replacement for Felix might not have altered the films’ story lines, impact, or appeal. The films are based on well-known legends with no real opportunity for Felix to show individuality and give a unique spin on the familiar tales.
Canemaker attributes the film troika’s lackluster quality to director Gillett. He notes the diminished use of the transformation factor, a cornerstone of Felix the Cat.
The director obviously felt it necessary to connect his constantly moving slick Mickey look-alike with the old staccato inkblot Felix of yore -- if only to remind audiences who his character is supposed to be. There is a grudging feeling in the use of the old metamorphic bits, and they considerably diminish in use in the last two shorts. In Neptune Nonsense, for example, Felix’ tale detaches from his rear to become an exclamation point, but the action is so poorly staged and brief it is difficult to see.
To be fair, the three-strip Technicolor technology of the 1930’s offered something special for animators. According to David A. Cook’s book A History of Narrative Film (1982), the technology possessed [a] great deal more verisimilitude than its predecessor (the red and green two-strip color process). Sometimes, though, bigger is not necessarily better and bells and whistles do not make up for lack of story or character development.
Messmer kept Felix relatively dormant during the next two decades compared with other cartoon figures. He concentrated efforts on the comic strip. In the late 1950’s, former Fleischer Studio animator Joe Oriolo looked to restore Felix to his once worldwide popularity. A formidable task, to say the least. Canemaker describes the formative steps.
Reviving Felix was not easy. Most of the film and TV corporations Oriolo and Sullivan [Pat Sullivan’s nephew] approached considered the character old-hat, if not moribund. Trans-Lux became interested only after Oriolo put up his own money to finance a pilot for a TV series. On the strength of Oriolo’s film, $1,750,000 in sales was appropriated to produce 260 Felix episodes. The format could run as four-minute individual episodes or a continuing quarter hour, thus providing programming flexibility to stations.
From a programming standpoint, Felix the Cat holds an important place historically as the first first-run syndicated cartoon. First-run syndication occurs where a program supplier sells original programming to individual stations or station groups rather than a network. Why syndication rather than a network? Money. According to Don Oriolo, son of Joe Oriolo and current CEO of Felix the Cat Productions, Inc., the financial setup spurred the comeback.
Trans-Lux [the syndicator] had a deal it couldn’t refuse with a $5,000 per episode cost vs. $60,000 or $70,000 per episode which was pretty much the industry standard. Animation buffs will recognize Trans-Lux as the syndicator of Joe Oriolo’s other 1960’s cartoon, The Mighty Hercules, the first television cartoon based on an action-adventure hero.
The 1960’s Felix continued the metamorphosis motif, albeit in a somewhat different manner. Rather than changing objects or parts of his anatomy regularly, Felix possessed a magic bag of tricks able to transform into the object needed. This transformation factor allowed for more elaborate possibilities, e.g., airplane, magic carpet.
Joe Oriolo did not create the magic bag in a vacuum. As is so often the case in animation, time and money constraints induced the creation. Oriolo says, My dad kept it simple. Metamorphosis took time and the magic bag was easier and quicker to draw. It also allowed for more flexibility in terms of what Felix could do because the magic bag could change into pretty much anything. Felix’ whiskers also disappeared because of design and time reasons.
Revival efforts worked as indicated by instant recognizability of the 1960’s show. People who grew up with the show in its initial run or reruns know the theme song by heart.
Felix the Cat. The wonderful wonderful cat.
You’ll laugh so hard, your sides will ache,
Your heart will go pitter pat,
Watching Felix the wonderful cat.
In addition, Felix had a supporting cast. Rock Bottom is a ‘gruff bulldog’ as described by Canemaker. Professor is an homage to the omnipresent ‘mad professor’ character in science fiction movies. Poindexter is Professor’s genius nephew named after Oriolo’s attorney, E.W. Poindexter. Jack Mercer voiced the supporting characters. He also voiced Popeye for nearly fifty years. Oriolo voiced Felix.
Felix made his feature-length film debut in Felix the Cat: The Movie (1989). A few years later, Felix returned to television in the competitive Saturday morning arena. Oriolo explains the philosophy behind introducing Felix to a 1990’s generation.
Felix’ attraction is based on the combination of the old and new -- nostalgia for the previous TV incarnation and the visual appeal of new graphics and design. We’re continuing a legacy, not creating a legacy.
Like its television predecessor, The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat features the famous magic bag of tricks. The show’s opening depicts Felix flying in his magic bag through a maze of colors and characters. In a bow to history, Professor et. al. have recurring roles. However, Twisted Tales represents a decidedly different Felix.
Where the 1960’s Felix found himself in light-hearted misadventures, scrapes, and challenges, the 1990’s Felix exhibits a somewhat edgier quality reminiscent of the silent films. The episodes have more movement, activity, and confrontational settings. Felix’ dialogue frequently reveals sarcasm, cynicism, and devil-may-care attitude. It aligns him more with the audience.
The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat appeals to adults as well as children. For example, the episode Middle Aged Felix features Felix and his friends imitating a beatnik poetry reading complete with a goateed Felix playing an improvised bongo set. It may be humorous to children, but it also holds significance to adults who understand the reference.
Reintroducing a character is a challenge in popular culture because of built-in bias, expectation, and memory of the character. Oriolo believed the obstacles were surmountable.
We sold the show with constant perseverance and Film Roman delivering the Felix animation with different twists. The tell-tale signs were there to prove that a young market existed for Felix the Cat. For example, corporate sponsorship saw the licensing and merchandising possibilities.
Maintaining the character’s integrity through generations is paramount. Oriolo not only understands this factor, he counts on it.
You survive because you want to survive. Stay true to the character and your vision and see where it takes you. Felix the Cat brings us along and vice versa.