Tooned out
Animated culture mixes classics, lampoons
In the cartoon jungle, it is not the
lion who is king but the mouse.
Mickey Mouse is better known,
more beloved, more hailed around
the globe than any other popular
figure, living or dd&d.
Since his “Steamboat Willie”
days, he has captured the imagina
tion of the world in a way that
crosses boundaries of language, race
and culture. A love for the Mouse
unites deadly enemies. He is the * '*
world’s first and foremost Superstar.
Little wonder that his only
serious challenger (in the U.S.
anyway) is another rodent. If
Mickey belongs to the world, Bugs
Bunny is specifically American.
From his Brooklyn accent to his
in-your-face, anything-for-a-laugh
mugging for the camera, everything
about him screams ATTITUDE. He
belongs to us.
So in a fight between Mickey
Mouse and Bugs Bunny, who would
win?
Well, that’s a tough question, and
the answer has to do with the
difference between high and low art.
I think we make a mistake in
thinking that difference is simply
between the good and the bad. It’s a
difference, rather, of good and great.
And great, by its very nature, can
begin to grate.
We need low art.
Mickey would win the aforemen
tioned combat, let’s get that clear.
He’d win by refusing to fight. The
obvious rivalry between the ruling
rodents runs entirely one-way.
Warner Brothers, in cartoon after
cartoon, is poking fun at Disney —
it’s as plain as mouse ears on a
monument.
But you’ll never see Disney
respond in kind. That’s beneath them.
They are making immortal imagery
here; gadflies like WB need not apply.
If die world had to lose one or
the other of its cartoon heroes, there
would be no contest. Mickey will be
living and loved long after all that’s
left of Bugs is “Eh, what’s up, doc?”
Mark Baldridge
Mickey will be living
and loved long after all
that’s left of Bugs is “Eh,
what’s up, doc?”
The Mouse roars.
But that’s not the whole story.
Bugs is, in some ways, the more
durable character.
In his original cartoons (not the
wretched cut-and-paste jobs we
have to suffer through these days)
Bugs created a Wonderful World of
his own. Warner Brothers cartoons
were as far above the later Hanna
Barbera horrors as Disney was
above the WB.
The settings were rich and
various; the animation exceeded the
basic requirements of film—which
TV would quickly bring low.
Bugs Bunny cartoons were, in
short, more palatable than anything
that was to come after them for a
long, long time. And, for everyday
purposes, they are still better than a
steady diet of Mouse meat.
Trapped on a deserted island and
asked to choose only one cartoon
companion, Mickey Mouse seems
the obvious candidate.
But, forced to watch one cartoon
a day, will ye, nill ye, for the rest of
your natural life, could anyone
really choose Disney?
Disney cartoons are fine fare,
rich dining, no doubt about it. They
offer a more layered, more dramatic,
more intensely visual experience.
And for that reason, they begin to
cloy sooner under force-feeding
conditions.
Bugs may be annoying at times
but there’s no question in my mind
that he is easier to tolerate on a day
in, day-out basis. The very fact that
he aims lower makes him a less
demanding host. You can ignore
him if you need to. He is entertain
ment, pure and simple.
It’s the difference between high
art and low. High art is better, but
we like low art more. And that’s the
way it should be.
I can’t understand the parents
who buy their preschool-aged kids a
half dozen Disney videos which are
then played in perpetual rotation for
the next two years. First of all, it
must put the grown-ups in the house
off Disney forever.
And, second, I’m not so sure it’s
so great for the kids.
Maybe I’m overreacting, but I just
don’t see how so rich of a diet is good
for growing children. Then again, I’m
one of those old-timers who believes
variety is the better spice.
I can’t really understand, either,
how an adult can watch a movie like
“So I Married an Axe Murderer” —
no matter how funny it may be —
over and over again.
But what’s even harder to
imagine, for me anyway, is some
poor soul doing the same with
“Citizen Kane.”
It’s a great movie, sure. And for
that very reason, it seems to me, it
also should be, somehow, special.
Heck, I’ve seen my favorite film
only once, three years ago. And in
another year or so I’d like to see it
again.
In the meantime, give me a little
low with the high, a little good to
compensate the great.
And until then, I’ll “See ya’ real
soon!”
Baldridge Is a senior English major and
a Dally Nebraskan colnmnlst
Promises made
Quality professors guide students ’ careers
I hadn’t been that sick in years.
My throat was closed and my body
ached, and standing upright took
more effort than I cared to admit.
But a friend from the honors
program begged me to entertain a
few high school students for the
honors overnight.
Four girls ended up in my room
that night, all prospective journal
ism majors and honor students.
Choice recruits. They wanted to
know all about the University of
Nebraska-Lincoln and the College
of Journalism and Mass Communi
cations.
So I told them. We talked until
after 2 a.m., even though I had a
doctor’s appointment the next
morning at 8:30.
Honestly, I don’t think UNL is a
great school. Lincoln is a great place
to live, and I like the campus and
the residence halls. And UNL ...
well, it’s all right. Pretty good, even.
But the journalism college is
great.
I know I’m a little biased; I’ve
spent a lot of time there. But, as a
student in the College of Arts and
Sciences, I’ve logged a considerable
number of hours in other programs.
And nothing compares.
Journalism classes are small, and
they’re taught by faculty members.
And every student has a faculty
adviser.
I didn’t realize how wonderful
that was until I started working on
my English major. The student
advisers in the College of Arts and
Sciences are nice and helpful, but
they’re not Dick Streckfuss, the
professor who’s helped me plot my
classes since I was a freshman.
Who’s helped me wade through
miles of red tape. Who asks me how
I liked that theater class and whether
I’ve considered a history minor.
Rainbow Rowell
“A good professor can
help you live up to his or
her expectations. But it
takes genius to help
students see a neiv set of
expectations — their
own.”
Who listens to me every time I come
to his office, ranting about one
academic disaster or another.
A faculty adviser, an open door
— for every student, not just the
choice recruits.
Yet the journalism college, like
the rest of the world, is in a state of
flux.
During the past four years, no
two people have had a greater
inpact on my education than Bud
Pagel and Chuck Piper.
Those journalism professors
helped me grow as a writer and as a
person, and 1 treasured every
moment spent in their classrooms.
A good professor can help you
live up to his or her expectations.
But it takes genius to help students
see a new set of expectations —
their own.
And that’s what Professor Pagel
and Professor Piper helped me do.
It wasn’t always pleasant.
Frankly, I didn’t enjoy the afternoon
Piper invited me into his office to
tell me my work so far that semester
had been half-assed and disappoint
ing.
And I wasn’t happy all those
weekends I spent working on stories
for Pagel’s depth-reporting class.
They care about their work and
their students. They invested time
and energy in me. And I will never
be able to thank them enough.
How can you repay someone who
has helped you discover who you
are and where you are going? That
you can be anything or go anywhere.
Unfortunately, Professor Piper is
wrapping up his last semester in
Avery Hall, and Professor Pagel is
talking retirement.
This column, my last, is a plea to
the dean of the journalism college,
to the Academic Affairs Office and
to the new chancellor.
I consider Pagel and Piper
irreplaceable, but I hope you will
try. I hope you will find professors
who will help other students as I
have been helped, professors who
will encourage and inspire.
I’m not asking for me. My days
here are over.
But I made a lot of promises last
year. Shortly after midnight, in a
crowded and narrow Pound Hall
room — I promised those four
I promised that they would grow
and learn and be as satisfied as I
was after four years.
And I don’t make promises
lightly.
Rowell Is a senior news-editorial, adver
tising and English major and a Dally Ne
braskan columnist
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