Of the three colÂlabÂoÂraÂtions jazz singer Cab CalÂloway made with cute carÂtoon legÂend BetÂty Boop, this 1933 Dave FleisÂchÂer-directÂed “Snow White” is probÂaÂbly the most sucÂcessÂful. It cerÂtainÂly is the most strange—more halÂluÂciÂnaÂtoÂry than the first in the series “MinÂnie the Moocher”, and less slapÂstick-driÂven than “The Old Man of the MounÂtain.” It is a sinÂguÂlar marÂvel and rightÂly deserves being deemed “culÂturÂalÂly sigÂnifÂiÂcant” by the UnitÂed States Library of ConÂgress and selectÂed for preserÂvaÂtion in the NationÂal Film RegÂistry in 1994. It was also votÂed #19 of the 50 GreatÂest CarÂtoons of all time in a poll of leadÂing aniÂmaÂtors.
When she made her debut in 1930, BetÂty Boop would have been recÂogÂnizÂable to audiÂences as the embodÂiÂment of the flapÂper and the sexÂuÂal freeÂdom of the Jazz Age that was curÂrentÂly in free-fall after the Wall Street crash of 1929. Only a few years before her preÂmiere, Boop would have been the masÂcot of the age; now she was a bitÂterÂsweet reminder of a time that had already passed. With a chamÂpagne bubÂble of a voice, kiss curls, darÂing hemÂline, plungÂing neckÂline, and the ever present garter belt, she was a carÂtoon charÂacÂter defÂiÂniteÂly not designed for kids. That her best films are colÂlabÂoÂraÂtions with Cab CalÂloway attest to that. CalÂloway would make sure his BetÂty Boop carÂtoons would screen in a city a week or two before he would play a gig. His “advance woman” as he called her helped sell more tickÂets.
AccomÂpaÂnyÂing her in this film are the Fleischer’s origÂiÂnal charÂacÂter Koko the Clown and BimÂbo the Pup, which for this film are sort of empÂty vesÂsels: they proÂtect BetÂty, they get knocked out, and Koko gets inhabÂitÂed by the spirÂit of Cab CalÂloway, who then turns into a ghost, all legs and head, no torÂso. (The ghost is aniÂmatÂed through rotoÂscopÂing over CalÂloway’s own film footage.) The Queen, whose talkÂing mirÂror changes his mind over “the fairest in the land” once seeÂing BetÂty Boop, senÂtences her to death, and then chasÂes her through the underÂworld before turnÂing into a dragÂon. At the end, Boop and her gang turn the dragÂon inside out like a sock, a gross gag not seen again (I’m going to guess) until one of the SimpÂsons’ HalÂloween SpeÂcials.
In the midÂdle of all this bounÂcy, surÂreÂal mayÂhem is Calloway’s ghost singing “St. James InfirÂmary Blues,” a mournÂful tale of a dead girlÂfriend and the singers plans for the funerÂal. The oriÂgin of the song is shroudÂed in mysÂtery, posÂsiÂbly a folk balÂlad by way of New Orleans jazz. WhatÂevÂer the source, Koko/Cab sings it to the now frozen and entombed BetÂty Boop, with the sevÂen dwarves as pallÂbearÂers. Koko/Cab turns into a numÂber of objects durÂing his dance, includÂing a botÂtle of booze and a coin on a chain.
This Snow White does in fact take place durÂing winÂter and writer Anne BlakeÂley makes the case that the flapÂper, the snow, the ice, the pasÂsage through the underÂworld, and Calloway’s song allude to a fall from grace, innoÂcence to expeÂriÂence, through drug abuse—in parÂticÂuÂlar the very snowy cocaine. (I mean, could be! But the film is so odd as to refute any definÂiÂtive readÂing.)
The aniÂmaÂtion was designed and comÂpletÂed by one man: Roland CranÂdall, posÂsiÂbly as a reward from FleisÂchÂer for not leavÂing for the sunÂny west coast and the more profÂitable DisÂney. CranÂdall worked half a year on the project and that’s realÂly what gives it its one of a kind nature. Every eleÂment, whether aniÂmatÂed or in the backÂground, has been lovÂingÂly renÂdered. ForeÂground and backÂground fight for your attenÂtion, and when the film finÂishÂes, you want to start all over again to see what you missed.
LastÂly, let’s praise the vibe of this film, which places its “star” on ice for half the film, and seems none the worse for it. “Snow White”—four years before Disney’s feaÂture version—is a hypnoÂgogÂic vision, a half-rememÂbered dayÂdream that takes place while the radio is turned down imperÂcepÂtiÂbly low.
The aniÂmaÂtion will be added to our colÂlecÂtion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great ClasÂsics, Indies, Noir, WestÂerns, DocÂuÂmenÂtaries & More.
Note: An earÂliÂer verÂsion of this post appeared on our site in 2020.
Ted Mills is a freeÂlance writer on the arts who curÂrentÂly hosts the Notes from the Shed podÂcast and is the proÂducÂer of KCRÂW’s CuriÂous Coast. You can also folÂlow him on TwitÂter at @tedmills, and/or watch his films here.