John Foster and Mannie Davis | A Romeo Robin / 1930 [animated cartoon]

one for the birds

by Douglas Messerli

 

John Foster and Mannie Davis [directors] A Romeo Robin / 1930 [animated cartoon]

 

Before their far more surrealistic cartoon series, Tom and Jerry, the Van Buren Studios major claim to fame was the animal-based Aesop’s Fables series for RKO.

    There are also many strange moments in these picaresque syncopated stories such as that in A Romeo Robin, which is one for the birds, except for a starved cat who can’t even seem to trick the kid canaries later in the work.

     Frankly, this is such a disjointed piece that I found it difficult to get up the energy to describe the various song and dance routines of the first part of this 8-minute movie, and Rik Tod Johnson, writing on his Cinema 4: Cell Bloc has already done it so precisely, I will simply quote him:

“The film opens with a quartet of blackbirds of assorted sizes and a lone owl, all dressed in shabby castoffs, and sitting along the top rail of a fence while whistling a merry little tune (which might be The Man in the Flying Trapeze; it is too short and offkey for me to tell). A sixth bird sits off on a post to the side: he is small and wears lederhosen and a Tyrolean hat with a tiny feather in it. He stretches out his stick-thin legs until he is about four times his previous height, and starts to perform The Swiss Yodel, with the other birds performing backup to his loopy warblings. As they proceed with the song, two birds are spotlighted in a demented little stomp n' shuffle: wearing top hats and sporting cigars, the birds have overly large feet on the long legs that sprout from their squat black bodies. As they cavort, one of their legs ties itself in a knot but then continues its course until each is unknotted again. After they each repeat this action, their bodies transform until they bear a striking resemblance (not fully, though) to Clampett's Dodo Bird from Wackyland. Bells looped around their now shoe-clad feet jingle insistently as they leap, flap their arms and turn their heads about in circles. Suddenly, another transformation is made, and we see only their skeletons, their ghostly bones making some of the same motions as they literally dance themselves to death. Finishing a tap dance with Shave and a Haircut, the two avian skeletons grab some grass, pull it over themselves, headstones with wreaths pop up, and they are buried for good.”

    The macabre bird parade continues with two crows performing, one on a large kernel of corn as if it were a piano, the second turning his pipe into a trumpet. The cat, pretending to be a bird with the intention to prey on three dancing canaries follows, the fledglings quickly escaping his attack. Two storks to a quick-step across a couple of frames.

     The next sequence actually brings us a little narrative as a remarkably effeminate duck takes his young duckling “protégé” on a trip through the woods to teach him, with effusive hand gestures pointing up his constantly limp wrists, the wisdom of the old song:

 

“Listen to the mockingbird! / Listen to the mockingbird! / Oh, the mockingbird is singin' in the tree. / Listen to the mockingbird! / Listen to the mockingbird!”

     The mockingbird, who a couple of times has dared to stick his head out of the inner tree to see what all the fracas is about, finally blows the singing duck a raspberry, in response to which the sissy goes off in a huff, lisping out “Oh, for goodness sake!”

     I do suggest the folks at the IMDb site go back and examine this cartoon so that they might correct the episode that is also described on their “official” film page, changing the singing conversant from being a “lady duck” to a 1930s “panze.” Some young intern on their staff, evidently, doesn’t get out in the world very much.

    Finally, half way through this short cartoon, we meet up with the titular Romeo, a joyful Robin, stethoscope around his neck apparently out to listen to and catch the worm, in this case, the second non-avian figure in this animated work, named Willy Worm.

     He lures the worm out with his beak which contorts into a flute, Willy snaking up a fireman’s pole to surface at Romeo’s feet. The robin attempts to grab the worm, who quickly escapes, apparently not being named Willy without reason.

     No matter, our “hero” quickly dons a high top hat, an overcoat, and a beard, becoming a Hassidic Jew who obviously attends more to G-d than to a worm. But this time, Willy’s outsmarted as the Robin quickly conks the worm over the head, puts him into a can, and hurries off to his Robin chick who’s impatiently waiting.

   If we thought this worm might be an edible gift for his lady love, however, we’d be mistaken. What he intends is to use it as a rudder hooked to the propeller of his two-seater plane. Almost immediately the propeller is spinning away, and they take to the sky. Why birds need a plane to fly is not explained. But then Van Buren films never truly bothered, fortunately, to take logic into account.

     Flying along, the robin couple seem to be almost in heaven until a much large bird lands on the plane’s tail, pulls the worm from the engine, and flies off fully fed.

     Below the now quite starved cat who previously tried to eat the canaries, mews out its sad situation:

 

 “Oh my gosh, I'm hungry, me-yow-yow-yow!

Oh, my tummy's empty, me-yow-yow-yow!

All I want is a bird, sparrow or quail, me-yow-yow-yow!

All I have is a very sad tail, me-yow-yow-yow!”

 

     Now, without power, the plane begins to plummet, the cat looking up in expectation of a feast.

The plane does indeed crash right into his mouth, but its passengers have escaped and are still alive, proving it with a quick kiss as the camera iris curls to close.

 

Los Angeles, November 8, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (November 2025).