Mort Drucker - Caricaturist Extroardinaire

Once upon a time I wanted to be a syndicated cartoonist and make lots of money, or become an animator, like Chuck Jones, and make millions of people laugh. Now I'm content being a lackadaisical part-time caricaturist. But for this reason I'll never reach the calligraphic heights of my idol, Mort Drucker.

As most people know, Mort Drucker is the Michelangelo of caricaturists - from any century. He joined Mad Magazine in 1957 and has been, by far, the best satirical illustrator to ever grace the pages of a magazine. His naturalistic style and supreme draftsmanship have influenced literally thousands of artists, and his movie satires for Mad are as memorable as the movies themselves.

His Godfather parody is one of his personal favourites; below is a detail of the original art work. Drucker's trademark use of expressive hands are in evidence here. He creates them (and everything that he draws) with minimal pencil work. His penmanship and knowledge of hand construction is without peer. Even Charles Schulz rhapsodized about Mort's 'handiwork' and wished he could draw hands like him.

I once visited the great man at his home in Woodbury, New York in the the late 80's. It was a bit like knocking on G. F. Handel's door while he was knocking off some oratorio; I was witness to the spare bit of pencil on his Strathmore paper just before he was going to ink the likes of Tom Cruise, Paul Newman, and Whoopi Goldberg. It was as though he had just written a figured bass, and was about to extemporize with a magical crowquill pen and India ink. "You're finished the pencil?!" I asked, incredulously. The Master humbly replied: "Yup." The inked result is what you see below - one of the many Mad Hollywood satires.

Mort Drucker told me that everything had to do with texture - something he's always striving for: "Hair has to look like hair; flesh like flesh..." Texture in Drucker's work is something that was evident to me since I was a kid - copying his work. I tried to draw brick walls like he drew in 'The Sting,' tweed and herringbone jackets, as he had drawn in so many satires; black leather, as in his jackets or shoes. But it always came back to the texture of the skin, the texture of the hair, and always, those miraculous hands. There have been hundreds of imitators, but no one with the unerring skill and sheer bravado of line. Below is an example from Drucker's satire of Rob Reiner's 'Stand by Me.' It contains many different textures and an exceptional, intuitive sense of form, volume and space.

We talked for hours about many cartoonists, including my late friend Jim Unger, of Herman fame. Drucker asked if I knew Lynn Johnston...I didn't know her then, but certainly got to know her once she moved to North Bay. My visit was coming to an end; I had been chatting for three hours with the mentor of my youth - one of the great artists of the twentieth century - and perhaps one of the nicest people I've ever met. Something I finally had to ask: I'm sure many artists have wondered this about Drucker, because he really comes across as a true original - I can't think of anyone quite like him. "You've influenced everybody on the planet, but who influenced you?" I was expecting him to name some completely unknown caricaturist from the 19th century - whether he be English, Italian, German, or French - maybe Kley or Daumier. His answer took me by surprise: "Oh, that's easy...Ronald Searle!" Of course - one of my favourite illustrators, and it never even occurred to me. (Searle died in Paris barely a couple of years ago, in his 90's). Searle's skritchy-scratchy, feathery lines occasionally do show up in Drucker's work, and sometimes the Mad artist pays complete homage to him in some of his spot-character designs. Here's another piece in my collection, by Ronald Searle

Below is a Mad cover by Mort Drucker: Al Pacino as 'Serpico' and Dennis Weaver as 'McCloud.'

Drucker has said he's a little uncomfortable when using colour - it's always new territory for him, since he's been a black and white fellow most of his life. But his experimentation in colour has led him to Dr. Martin's coloured inks, which he dilutes and uses in a painterly fashion. Here's a scan of the Mad original of the entire cast from 'LA Law' - the colour has been used more sparingly; it's not as opaque as the Serpico cover.

A comprehensive book of Mort Drucker's work for Mad Magazine has just been released as of this past week. The several Forwards have been written by leading filmmakers:

Steven Spielberg, Director, Jaws

"Mort Drucker's timely sense of parody mixed with commentary first made me aware of the culture of our generation. Mort's irreverent and historical caricatures have never been nor will they ever be equaled. He poked fun at all my favorite movies when I was a teenager and when I was a filmmaker, he started going to town on the ones I was making and I loved every frame of his."

Joe Dante, Director, Gremlins

As a lifelong MAD devotee from the time it was a four-color comic, I can tell you that there are few thrills in life quite like seeing your own movie parodied in the pages of MAD! So you can imagine my shock and glee when I glommed on to the cover of the September 1984 “Grimlins” issue with Alfred E. Neuman as Gizmo, surrounded by horrified Gremlins holding their noses behind him. And even better, what was inside was almost too good to be true: several hilarious pages of clever spoofery by Stan Hart illustrated with the usual brilliant Mort Drucker comic art! What an honor. Let’s be clear—Mort Drucker is simply right up there with Hirshfeld as the master American caricaturist. His pure, unmistakable graphic style has captured an astonishing array of 20th century celebrities and public figures. Even if you didn't know a performer’s name you could always place the face. His movie-like staging and composition were unmatched, and the result was artwork that could be revisited time and time again and still yield something new. That particular facet of MAD influenced many nascent filmmakers, including myself. I never actually met the absurdly prolific Mr. Drucker, but I feel I know him through his years of work. Now there’s a legacy few of us can even aspire to!

George Lucas, Director, American Graffiti

Since I first read MAD Magazine as a kid, I've been drawn in by its mix of highbrow satire and lowbrow laughs that pokes very funny holes in the stuffiest of institutions. Mort Drucker's signature artwork captures and exaggerates the world around us and the people in it in a way that makes them more real. His caricatures are the best, and he is the artist that defines MAD for me. When I had to choose an artist for the American Graffiti poster, Mort was the first and only person who came to mind. Since then, he's been redrawing my movies as funny parodies. You never mind being the subject of one of Mort's jokes, because he executes them so artfully.

JJ Abrams, Filmmaker

The influence of Mort Drucker on readers of MAD Magazine cannot be overstated. I remember with vivid clarity sitting in my elementary school classroom, while I was supposed to be working, desperately trying to copy his brilliant caricature style. It didn’t work. Not then and not now. Drucker’s eerie ability to absolutely capture the heart and soul of his subjects—and put them in hysterical tableau—is unmatched by anyone. Even the way he signed his work was something of inspiration; I remember as a kid trying to create my own signature in a style as cool as Drucker’s. I wished I had an “M” and an “O” in my name so I could do the three lines and circle thing like he did. I am and always was, like so many others, a huge fan of Mort Drucker. One of the greatest comic artists of all time.

Long Live the Ottawa Journal

I understand Canwest’s troubled history, having entered bankruptcy protection in late 2009, and selling its newspaper arm to creditors headed by National Post’s CEO Paul Godfrey. But the person from this new regime who has dictated that the Ottawa Citizen can no longer review ‘non-professional’ art forms has made a grave mistake. The vibrant sheen of our cultural community is presently being quietly diminished due to some asinine manager who lives, no doubt, in Toronto. Having said that, the people who are in charge of the Citizen must realize that this decision will have an adverse effect on their enlightened readership until a creative solution rectifies this lack of reportage. The idea of not covering such groups as the Ottawa Little Theatre, Savoy Society, Orpheus Musical Theatre Society, Ottawa Choral Society, Cantata Singers of Ottawa, Ottawa Bach Choir, Seventeen Voyces, and the Canadian Centennial Choir is an irresponsible one and only does Ottawa and its denizens an egregious disservice – culturally, socially and economically. I personally don’t care about Brad Pitt’s moustache, Mariah Carey’s strapless dresses (okay, maybe a little bit) or Lindsay Lohan’s latest lock-up, but I know that those of us who have worked in the trenches of the local arts’ scene for most of our professional adult lives feel completely betrayed. The Ottawa Citizen’s Arts & Entertainment section is rapidly becoming a wire-serviced American tabloid for the same reasons CBC Radio 2 became a vast, fatuous wasteland – near-sighted Philistinism.

Kevin Reeves
Seventeen Voyces, Director
Ottawa Regional Youth Choir, Director
Ottawa Choral Society, Associate Director
Former Citizen Subscriber

OCTranspo Blues

What is it about OCTranspo that makes me think of the phrase "cruel and unusual punishment?" Every time I stand at a bus stop, I imagine there is some kind of underground Control Centre connected to billions of dollars of surveillance cameras monitoring the bus stops most frequented by me. The Control Centre Official then radios the bus driver to take a break at least two stops before mine, or wherever the bend in the road occurs so that I can't see the driver entering the confectionary and buying a Joe Louis and a Mountain Dew, then returning to the bus in order to partake in his leisurely sugar fix. By this time, the 40 below temperature has welded my forehead to the timetable on the pole, making it impossible to see the bus even if it were approaching. (Either that, or the driver is instructed to take a one block detour, in order to bypass my stop altogether).

Conversely, whenever I'm in no rush to go anywhere - usually while ambling along Bank Street in beautiful weather, the number 1 and 7 buses gather in packs and slowly articulate themselves alongside me, occasionally stopping - the doors opening with exaggerated expectancy - to see if I might need a lift. "No thank you," I recently said, adjusting my meagre bag of groceries. "It's obvious I don't need your service today, isn't it?" Then turning on my heels, I screamed "I'm on to you" directly at the exorbitantly-priced camera, which I think was hidden in a nearby evergreen.

Since that incident, the Ottawa bus system no longer acknowledges my existence.

The Genius of Buster Keaton

Okay, I'm in Buster Keaton mode, with a Seventeen Voyces' presentation of his 1927 masterpiece, 'The General' at the end of this month.

'The General' is listed at number 18 on the AFI's (American Film Institute) list of the top 100 films, and it's a dandy. I've seen it more than thirty times and for some reason, have never tired of it. Keaton interwove a dramatic true incident which took place during the American Civil War with his unique brand of Vaudevillian comedy and topped it off with great physical daring-do.


1927 was the very year that the 'Talkies' came into being with Al Jolson's 'The Jazz Singer' and the very first Oscar winner - 'Wings.' But audiences had never seen anything quite like 'The General;' not only is it considered one of the most authentic looking pictures to depict the Civil War (based on Matthew Brady's photographs) but it is essentially one gigantic chase movie with very impressive locomotives and Buster Keaton running all over them as though they were just monster playgrounds. As usual, in his films, the gags are so well-timed and so elaborate, one wonders to what length the cast and crew had to go in order to set up a single shot.


Keaton's stunt work may not have been as death-defying as in some of his other films, but his acrobatics and graceful movement is sheer joy to watch. This is a man who started performing on the stage with his parents at the age of three. (I don't believe he even went to school - if he did, it was for a very short period). Audiences in the early 1900's thought Buster was actually a midget because his father rough-handled him so much during each show, they couldn't believe he was a child. The father was violent, drunken, verbally and physically abusive. The mother was a dull-witted and acquiescent accomplice. The child’s wide eyes stared out from a deathly white, transfixed face which showed no emotional reaction, whatever he was subjected to. Between the child’s shoulder-blades was fastened a suitcase handle, with which the father picked him up, shook him, swung him round, dropped him face down onto the ground, and hurled him repeatedly against furniture and walls. When the father tired of this he would screw a broom handle into a harness on the boy’s back, plunge him into cold water, and use him as a human mop to clean the floor. Finally the father would fling the limp body of his son into the middle of the crowd of people who had paid money to watch the molestation. The child had been treated in this way, every day, since the age of three.


Once there were some hecklers in the front row, and the enraged senior Keaton threw his son directly into their laps - breaking one of the men's ribs. Thousands of shows later, once the public discovered Buster's true age, they angrily demanded the Keaton family to show up in court, citing child abuse. Buster gamefully removed his shirt, miraculously revealing no bruises of any kind. The Keatons continued their show across the United States, and were highly regarded in the industry.

Fast forward two or three decades: Buster Keaton's most famous and dangerous stunt required him to stand motionless. It was during 'Steamboat Bill Jr.' as a hurricane created in typical Hollywood fashion - using giant fans - howled around him. The facade of a house is ripped from its studs and falls on top of Keaton. He is saved only because of a tiny open window that happens to fall exactly on the spot where he is standing - the frame barely missing either shoulder. The wall was a couple of thousand pounds, and was hoisted into place by a crane so that an 'X' could be marked on the ground where Keaton was to stand. Apparently most of the crew left while this sequence was filmed, and even the cameraman covered his eyes at the last second while he was still cranking. Had that wall settled into the ground in an inch or two, Keaton would have been killed. (Didn't they know about balsa wood back then...or stand-ins)?



As an historical footnote, the very first animated film incorporating sound was Walt Disney's 'Steamboat Willie' starring Mickey Mouse (in his first role) in 1928. It was based on Keaton's Steamboat Bill Jr.

Getting back to the stage relationship with his father, the brutality of their act laid the foundations not only for the hair-raising veracity of Buster Keaton’s stunts in the hilarious shorts he eventually made for Mack Sennett, but also, contrarily, for the quality of somnambulistic beauty which suffuses the great feature films he was later to both star in and direct. In films such as The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Junior, and Our Hospitality, Keaton attained heights of physical comedy never since equalled, uniquely achieved among silent comedians and clowns with an absolute lack of pathos or sentiment.

This leads naturally to the whole notion of Keaton vs. Chaplin. The debate still rages on as to who was the 'better' of the two. They were both diminutive men from poor backgrounds who became uncompromising as entertainers and filmmakers. Chaplin was much more of a businessman who gained control of his material and later formed the original United Artists with Mary Pickford, Douglas Fairbanks and D.W. Griffith. Keaton was the complete opposite with business; he let others look after it for him, until he lost control of his assets by the end of the '20's. He was much more interested in smoking, drinking and playing poker. Sadly, this spelled the end of his career and his fortunes, while Charlie lived out his days surrounded by extreme wealth.


When all is said and done, even though it really is like comparing apples and oranges (except in black & white) I've always appreciated Buster Keaton more than Chaplin. There is something more primal and melancholic about his character because one never felt he cared whether the audience cheered for him or not the way Chaplin's character does. His stone-faced persona which he learned on the Vaudeville stage also heightened that melancholy, whereas Chaplin's overwrought expressions and movement are to me a little saccharin. In the end, it really does come down to personal taste.

Keaton's influence was especially big on Jacques Tati as M. Hulot, Jackie Chan, Rowan Atkinson as Mr. Bean, Johnny Depp in 'Benny and Joon,' and all the Warner Brother cartoons. His films made a huge comeback in the 1960's, and he lived just long enough to see it happen.

Please copy and paste the following link for details of Seventeen Voyces' presentation of 'The General.'

http://www.seventeenvoyces.ca/concerts.html

State of the Art; Art of the State

Went to Telefilm Canada's web site recently to see what kind of films are being financed and subsequently unseen by Canadians this year.

I wasn't at all surprised to discover that of the 53 feature films financed, 64% of those films were produced out of Quebec!

But wait! Before you start bandying about epithets such as 'racist' and 'xenophobe,' I would like to take this opportunity to extol the virtues of Cinema in Quebec; it is by far one of the best cultural ambassadors we have to offer the rest of the world. In fact, I want to come back in my next life as a French filmmaker - why? Because there is a warmth, an earthiness, a quirkiness, a humanism, and a great sense of ironic humour about their films. There is also a deep-rooted cinematographic artistry which sometimes tends to elude more commercially-minded filmmakers of the other Solitude.

The Quebecois understand this - just by virtue of being next to English Canada and the States - which is why they have their own distinctive industry and star-system. I would much rather watch the thoughtful, provocative, artistic films of Denys Arcand, than say the chilly, calculating, cerebral, aloof, and in the end, not very interesting films of Atom Egoyan.

It didn't help in the 1970's when doctors, lawyers, used car salesmen, and other non-producers in English Canada took advantage of the generous 100% tax incentive of the Trudeau/Francis Fox era. They tainted the Canadian film industry by making the worst low-budget drivel this side of Roger Corman just so they could give their drinking buddies a terrific tax break. At the same time, the Australians were given a tax incentive of 150% and produced magnificent directors such as Bruce Beresford, Peter Weir, Gillian Armstrong, Paul Cox, Fred Schepisi and George Miller. These Wizards of Oz ushered in a new era of films such as 'My Brilliant Career,' 'Picnic at Hanging Rock,' 'The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith,' 'Breaker Morant' and 'The Getting of Wisdom.' Meanwhile, the Canucks had to console themselves with films such as 'Terror Train.' We are still recovering...

There is a difference between a sincere, culturally cognizant art form, and the mini-mogul wannabe lifestyle that certain latté-sipping Toronto producers with cool crimson-framed glasses frequenting Hazelton Lanes tend to gravitate toward. (Wow, three hyphens in one sentence)! Thankfully, this is something the government officials at Telefilm have discerned, and are rewarding those who are in cinema for the right reasons.

Some of you cynics out there in Blogland may not agree, or care. What does it matter - you might say - the Americans have control of our screens anyway.

Pottawa & Opera

I think it's fantastic when someone like Michael Potter - a retired high-tech guy - gives all kinds of money to the Arts.

For an Opera Lyra matinee of Puccini's 'Turandot' for which a couple of thousand school kids were shipped in to the NAC, Mr. Potter donated tens of thousands of dollars to pay for the entire performance.

This act of munificence comes from a fellow who once ran Cognos Inc. and also has to annually fork out an egregious amount of money (a Canadian record) to an unmentionably avaricious woman who knew a good thing when she found it.

So where are the other Michael Potter's of Ottawa? This city is rife with wealth, but funding for the Arts on a municipal level, is fiscally as dry as Larry O'Brien's scalp. This place could be a hotbed of cultural activity without relying so much on what seems to be the same tireless individuals constantly tilting at windmills. Impresarios such as Julian Armour continually come across more red tape than he has volunteers - the altruistic grass-roots people that really keep this place alive.

As an aside, too bad Potter's nephew wasn't Harry, then he could fill his vintage aviation museum with a series of Quidditch broomsticks, and really make the sky the limit.

CBC's big Dick

Why do Canadian cultural institutions constantly insist on hiring toxic bureaucrats who know very little about Canadian culture?

CBC in its finite wisdom six years ago hired Richard Stursberg - the man who nearly destroyed Telefilm because he was interested solely in making the place an American cloning device. It may have ended up being a financially viable idea, except the decision-makers responsible decided to green-light absolute clap-trap - devoid of any indigenous character whatsoever. They were expensive movies with cardboard actors, generic plots, and huge financial losses. Telefilm finally got rid of him, as did CBC just a month ago, for similar reasons.

Stursberg became hated by virtually every employee of the CBC because of his smugness, weird non-sequiturs, and for making Peter Mansbridge stand up while reading the news.

His other accomplishments include:

- a bitter 7 week lockout during his second year
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for the Olympics
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for the Grey Cup
- the loss of the broadcasting contract for curling
- the loss of the Hockey Night in Canada theme song
- the complete revamping of Radio 2 which has lost 20% of its faithful fan base
- the complete revamping of CBC Newsworld which has lost viewers to CTV
- sold off 1000 hours of CBC programming assets to foreign distributors

Ian Morrison, a spokesman for the watchdog group Friends of Canadian Broadcasting, says Stursberg was appointed "as a complete outsider" with no previous radio or television production, scheduling or marketing experience.

In fact, Stursberg didn't even know that CBC had a radio station when he accepted the job...until he pretty much destroyed it.

He was most likely chosen because he is the son of famed foreign correspondent - Peter Stursberg - who ran around the world, reporting back to Canada, but hardly living here. That means little Ricky didn't grow up with 'Friendly Giant' & 'Don Messer's Jubilee' and doesn't give a rat's ass about what makes this country distinctive from the States.

So now Head Honcho of CBC - lawyer and sports colour commentator, Hubert Lacroix - has dismissed Richard Stursberg, saying: "We are in the midst of developing a new strategic plan that will guide CBC/Radio-Canada through the next five years. This is the opportune time to bring new leadership...." meaning, the CBC has no idea what direction it's taking, as long as it's not Richard Stursberg's.

Gosh, Telefilm could have told Lacroix that seven years ago. But at least Stursberg was savvy enough to buy 'Jeopardy' and 'Wheel of Fortune.' Fortunately, Alex Trebek just happens to be a Ukrainian-Canadian from Sudbury.