In emulating all of these artists Browngardt says that a sense of restraint can often be forgotten. “The old shorts knew exactly when not to move. A held pose could be funnier than a flurry of animation. That balance between bold design and precise timing is harder to emulate than the surface style, but it’s the secret sauce.” Such a handle on timing is even reflected in the rare moments where the Looney Tunes interact with the real world, such as in “You Ought to be in Pictures” – a peek at the drawing tables suddenly interrupted by a loud call for lunch, cutting to a large crowd of animators bolting at impossible speed.
Chuck Jones himself affirmed such a thought. In a written tribute for the Los Angeles Tribune to Tex Avery following his passing in 1980, Jones said “animation is the art of timing, a truth applicable to all motion pictures.” He also added that the masters of timing are typically comedians, citing Keaton, Laurel and Hardy, and of course Avery. Even before the look of the Looney Tunes had become codified (in whatever sense that applies), Avery’s shorts like “I Love To Singa” found whimsical humour in things as small as the bounce in the step of a little jazz-loving owl (Owl Jolson, he’s called!), not entirely removed from the rubber hose limbed Fleischer Toons.
These visual quirks changed over time (perhaps best described by Tony Zhou in his “Every Frame a Painting” series), and with the release of a new feature it’s hard not to reflect on how modern methods of making or even viewing animation have changed how we interact with the Looney Tunes. “The biggest shift is speed, both in production and consumption,” Browngardt says. “Animation today is often made faster and watched faster. Shorts are clipped, looped, memed, and algorithm-fed. That changes how rhythm is perceived.” Browngardt points out that classic Looney Tunes were built for a theatre audience, saying that the timing could be more indulgent, even musical, for a captive crowd. “Rabbit of Seville” (Jones, 1950) is a sterling example of the melodic approach, impossible acts (like a shotgun tied in a knot) timed to the sounds of the Spanish opera The Barber of Seville, only this version stars Bugs and Elmer.
Changes to a more rapid environment, Browngardt says, hasn’t dulled the effect of the Looney Tunes’ specific oeuvre of cartooning, and that the characters themselves handily survive this shift. “Their clarity and graphic strength make them incredibly adaptable to modern viewing habits. The danger isn’t technology, it’s forgetting that timing, contrast, and silence are as important as motion. Modern tools are powerful, but the interaction only works if the underlying principles of animation and comedy are still respected.”
So far removed from their origins, there’s an undeniable longevity to these characters. Browngardt attributes it to what he describes as “honesty through exaggeration.” He continues, “the characters are extreme, but the emotions are real.” Such a sentiment has been reflected by Jones himself, saying in an interview that “if you can’t tell what the character is thinking by the way they’re moving, they’re not animating”. Browngardt adds: “Greed, pride, fear, jealousy. Those things don’t age. The animation style supports that by being bold and direct rather than ornamental.”