No Peanuts and My Luggage is in Cleveland
3/10
I’ve come to believe that some things are simply against the laws of nature, such as the Cardinals reaching the playoffs or Michael Jackson subscribing to Penthouse. Perhaps DVD TV season sets should be added to the list. I defy anyone to watch Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines the Complete Series in one sitting without burning out a lobe. I would have switched off the remote long ago, but they don’t let me handle blunt objects anymore.
The mustache twirling Dick Dastardly (DD) and his mischievous dog Muttley were two of the most popular characters on Hanna Barbera’s (HB) hit all-star comedy series Wacky Races. Subsequently DD and Muttley and separately costar Penelope Pittstop earned their own spin-off series in 1969. In the former’s case the new series had little to do with its predecessor, transforming its devious protagonists from race drivers to the World War I German Fighter pilots of Vulture Squadron. Their mission, with the dubious aid of nutcase inventor Klunk and scaredy-cat Zilly, is to stop by any means necessary Yankee Doodle Pigeon, a heroic carrier pigeon in the Allies’ employ. The result is a third rate Road Runner knockoff with a bigger cast, smaller budget and virtually no laughs. Not being much of a Road Runner fan to start with, I knew I was in for a bumpy flight. Are you going to be using that bag?
In episode 1… Eh, they’re all the same. The meat is provided by two tiresomely predictable Dastardly and Muttley stories. Usually these focus on the creation of some wildly bizarre pigeon-catching contraption such as a plane composed of a gigantic hammer and anvil or pepper seeking missiles. Occasionally there’s an encounter with a helpful or troublesome third party, such as an engineer who builds experimental aircraft for Vulture and a lovestruck farm girl who relentlessly pursues Zilly. Often DD will call on Muttley to drag the reluctant Zilly back to his post or rescue DD himself when he falls from the sky. Muttley usually insists on a medal as payment before lifting a finger though. Invariably things end with failure and DD receives what we suspect is a profanity laden dressing-down from the general via telephone. My favorite story is Camouflage Hop-aroo, in which the general sends a camouflage expert to assist Vulture with some of the most jaw-droppingly insane inventions imaginable. I think there was something in the air in HB’s office during production, and I don’t mean love.
The one-minute Wing Dings segments are a collection of extremely bad jokes of the sort even Bazooka Joe would spit upon. If you told them to your dog he’d go straight for your jugular. In one DD orders Klunk to mop up the floor with Muttley. So of course Klunk proceeds to dunk Muttley in the mop bucket and push him along the floor. Ha ha ha…
Last but usually best, is a 3-minute Magnificent Muttley short in which Muttley daydreams he is in a famous story like Mutiny on the Bounty or has an exciting job like stunt man. In one of the better examples Muttley is a star trapeze artist at the circus, and his jealous understudy DD is determined to show him up. He rigs it so Muttley will fall into a tank full of vicious alligators and get shot out of a cannon, only to discover it’s finally his turn to perform.
Dastardly contains few obvious 60s references, apart from Klunk’s Beatles-like mop of hair and a groovy fortune telling swami. To make a real stretch Vulture’s efforts could be an allegory for the similarly unsuccessful Vietnam War, then at its height. Still, the commentary track reveals that the show was definitely a product of its time in at least one way. In the late 1960s family groups led a public outcry against violent superhero programs, and according to production designer Iwao Takamoto (Wacky Races) the nervous networks supported a return to gag-based comedies like Dastardly and Penelope. I wonder why those parents are never outraged by laugh-free “comedies.”
DD’s excellent comedic delivery is thanks to Paul Winchell, who younger readers may know as Gargamel. Unfortunately even the exasperated ravings of this inspired Vaudevillian villain can’t wring many smiles from the dreadfully weak material and supporting cast, almost entirely voiced by Scooby’s Don Messick. Muttley is probably the show’s best-known character, perhaps because he looks cuter on a t-shirt than DD, unless you’re into mustaches. Or maybe kids were delighted at the way he swears under his breath at authority figures. His constant snickering at nothing in particular, glazed eyes and general laziness seem to indicate he spent most of the time on set well baked. Klunk goes into epileptic spasms whenever he speaks, screeching random “wacky” noises in place of words, which leave DD perplexed and me wanting to strangle the guy. Zilly sounds like a generic old man and Yankee has no personality at all, making both utterly dull.
Yes, I did actually crack a few smiles at the show, but that’s a woefully low percentage for seventeen episodes. In one good scene the narrator remarks that Vulture is pursuing Yankee for the “umpteenth” time, to which DD testily retorts, “Oh dry up. Who’s keeping score?” Most of the meager amusement is due to the crazy plane designs, my favorite being a king size bed attached to an engine and tiny wings. The idea being to pretend to be asleep so the pigeon will venture near, and then smack him with concrete pillows (!).
Dastardly’s animation is of the usual low HB quality for this era. It’s cheap, crude, and dull, but then so was a lot of TV animation in those days. The plentiful aerial scenes are visually bland as can be since almost all occur against a blank monotone background.
The goofy but undeniably catchy theme song “Stop that Pigeon” is repeated so often it will become permanently lodged in your brain, perhaps displacing elementary arithmetic. Gluttons for punishment can seek out a fun cover by The Reverend Horton Heat on the Saturday Morning Cartoons’ Greatest Hits album.
Although gorgeously packaged, the set is rather light on special features. The pointless Vulture Squadron’s Greatest Misses is simply a collection of brief clips from various episodes. Dastardly and Muttley’s Spin Offs is a brief documentary with little to say. The only worthwhile extras are the interesting commentaries on two episodes from Takamoto, fellow Dastardly designer Jerry Eisenberg (Wacky Races), and some WB Animation staff. Amazingly but not surprisingly Takamoto recalls that the classic seven minute HB shorts were usually completed in a week or less. I’m guessing in Dastardly’s case a week was generous.
Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines the Complete Series is strictly for diehard fans and very young children. Anyone else should quickly reach for their Road Runner collection or jab themselves in the eye with a hot needle until the urge passes. OK, the morbidly curious may want to check out the fun “Camouflage”, but any more would be sheer masochism. You don’t say? Ah, I’m not really into that, but you can have the set for a song. Preferably not involving pigeons.
3/10
I’ve come to believe that some things are simply against the laws of nature, such as the Cardinals reaching the playoffs or Michael Jackson subscribing to Penthouse. Perhaps DVD TV season sets should be added to the list. I defy anyone to watch Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines the Complete Series in one sitting without burning out a lobe. I would have switched off the remote long ago, but they don’t let me handle blunt objects anymore.
The mustache twirling Dick Dastardly (DD) and his mischievous dog Muttley were two of the most popular characters on Hanna Barbera’s (HB) hit all-star comedy series Wacky Races. Subsequently DD and Muttley and separately costar Penelope Pittstop earned their own spin-off series in 1969. In the former’s case the new series had little to do with its predecessor, transforming its devious protagonists from race drivers to the World War I German Fighter pilots of Vulture Squadron. Their mission, with the dubious aid of nutcase inventor Klunk and scaredy-cat Zilly, is to stop by any means necessary Yankee Doodle Pigeon, a heroic carrier pigeon in the Allies’ employ. The result is a third rate Road Runner knockoff with a bigger cast, smaller budget and virtually no laughs. Not being much of a Road Runner fan to start with, I knew I was in for a bumpy flight. Are you going to be using that bag?
In episode 1… Eh, they’re all the same. The meat is provided by two tiresomely predictable Dastardly and Muttley stories. Usually these focus on the creation of some wildly bizarre pigeon-catching contraption such as a plane composed of a gigantic hammer and anvil or pepper seeking missiles. Occasionally there’s an encounter with a helpful or troublesome third party, such as an engineer who builds experimental aircraft for Vulture and a lovestruck farm girl who relentlessly pursues Zilly. Often DD will call on Muttley to drag the reluctant Zilly back to his post or rescue DD himself when he falls from the sky. Muttley usually insists on a medal as payment before lifting a finger though. Invariably things end with failure and DD receives what we suspect is a profanity laden dressing-down from the general via telephone. My favorite story is Camouflage Hop-aroo, in which the general sends a camouflage expert to assist Vulture with some of the most jaw-droppingly insane inventions imaginable. I think there was something in the air in HB’s office during production, and I don’t mean love.
The one-minute Wing Dings segments are a collection of extremely bad jokes of the sort even Bazooka Joe would spit upon. If you told them to your dog he’d go straight for your jugular. In one DD orders Klunk to mop up the floor with Muttley. So of course Klunk proceeds to dunk Muttley in the mop bucket and push him along the floor. Ha ha ha…
Last but usually best, is a 3-minute Magnificent Muttley short in which Muttley daydreams he is in a famous story like Mutiny on the Bounty or has an exciting job like stunt man. In one of the better examples Muttley is a star trapeze artist at the circus, and his jealous understudy DD is determined to show him up. He rigs it so Muttley will fall into a tank full of vicious alligators and get shot out of a cannon, only to discover it’s finally his turn to perform.
Dastardly contains few obvious 60s references, apart from Klunk’s Beatles-like mop of hair and a groovy fortune telling swami. To make a real stretch Vulture’s efforts could be an allegory for the similarly unsuccessful Vietnam War, then at its height. Still, the commentary track reveals that the show was definitely a product of its time in at least one way. In the late 1960s family groups led a public outcry against violent superhero programs, and according to production designer Iwao Takamoto (Wacky Races) the nervous networks supported a return to gag-based comedies like Dastardly and Penelope. I wonder why those parents are never outraged by laugh-free “comedies.”
DD’s excellent comedic delivery is thanks to Paul Winchell, who younger readers may know as Gargamel. Unfortunately even the exasperated ravings of this inspired Vaudevillian villain can’t wring many smiles from the dreadfully weak material and supporting cast, almost entirely voiced by Scooby’s Don Messick. Muttley is probably the show’s best-known character, perhaps because he looks cuter on a t-shirt than DD, unless you’re into mustaches. Or maybe kids were delighted at the way he swears under his breath at authority figures. His constant snickering at nothing in particular, glazed eyes and general laziness seem to indicate he spent most of the time on set well baked. Klunk goes into epileptic spasms whenever he speaks, screeching random “wacky” noises in place of words, which leave DD perplexed and me wanting to strangle the guy. Zilly sounds like a generic old man and Yankee has no personality at all, making both utterly dull.
Yes, I did actually crack a few smiles at the show, but that’s a woefully low percentage for seventeen episodes. In one good scene the narrator remarks that Vulture is pursuing Yankee for the “umpteenth” time, to which DD testily retorts, “Oh dry up. Who’s keeping score?” Most of the meager amusement is due to the crazy plane designs, my favorite being a king size bed attached to an engine and tiny wings. The idea being to pretend to be asleep so the pigeon will venture near, and then smack him with concrete pillows (!).
Dastardly’s animation is of the usual low HB quality for this era. It’s cheap, crude, and dull, but then so was a lot of TV animation in those days. The plentiful aerial scenes are visually bland as can be since almost all occur against a blank monotone background.
The goofy but undeniably catchy theme song “Stop that Pigeon” is repeated so often it will become permanently lodged in your brain, perhaps displacing elementary arithmetic. Gluttons for punishment can seek out a fun cover by The Reverend Horton Heat on the Saturday Morning Cartoons’ Greatest Hits album.
Although gorgeously packaged, the set is rather light on special features. The pointless Vulture Squadron’s Greatest Misses is simply a collection of brief clips from various episodes. Dastardly and Muttley’s Spin Offs is a brief documentary with little to say. The only worthwhile extras are the interesting commentaries on two episodes from Takamoto, fellow Dastardly designer Jerry Eisenberg (Wacky Races), and some WB Animation staff. Amazingly but not surprisingly Takamoto recalls that the classic seven minute HB shorts were usually completed in a week or less. I’m guessing in Dastardly’s case a week was generous.
Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines the Complete Series is strictly for diehard fans and very young children. Anyone else should quickly reach for their Road Runner collection or jab themselves in the eye with a hot needle until the urge passes. OK, the morbidly curious may want to check out the fun “Camouflage”, but any more would be sheer masochism. You don’t say? Ah, I’m not really into that, but you can have the set for a song. Preferably not involving pigeons.
