Ranking the 1990s Kids’ WB Comedy Cartoons

For many of us, the 1990s were something of a magical time in terms of nostalgia. We’re all of that age around here, right? Who amongst the readers of Geekscape doesn’t have find memories of grunge rock, “Beavis and Butt-Head,” the rise of hip-hop, the explosion of Nintendo, the rebirth of the Disney animated feature, that multi-issue mural of Jim Lee’s “X-Men” #1, and Tim Burton’s “Batman” films? None of us, that’s who. Even if you didn’t necessarily like the things I listed, then you do have some sort of halcyon connection to them. Living as an adult geek has a lot to do with recapturing the magic you discovered as a child.

One of the most-loved facets of our childhoods, of course, is the cartoons we used to watch. TV raised us in a way that previous generations could only dream about, and future generations (what with their increased internet use) may not entirely understand. And, having spoken to many of my peers of Gen-Y and a good deal of Millennium babies, one of the most powerful presences in all of our collective imaginations was the cycle of cartoon shows produced by Steven Spielberg, and made by Warner Bros. They either played on Saturday mornings or weekday afternoons, and featured a new, hip, self-aware sense of humor that was not seen in cartoons until that time (most of the cartoon shows from the 1980s were based on toys, previous properties, or were just life wannabe sitcoms for the bland palates of children). Like “The Simpsons,” there was something universal, something ubiquitous about these shows. It wasn’t the marketing of them, necessarily, but their style and their sense of humor that grabbed us and stayed with us.

And, since it’s my weekly job on Geekscape to compose potentially controversial lists, and spend my time ranking specialized fields that you may not have heard about (I once ranked secretions, for instance), I have decided to rank the seven big Steven Spielberg-produced, Kids’ WB cycle of cartoon shows. I have ignored a few of the more recent cartoons like “Loonatics Unleashed,” and “Duck Dodgers,” as they are of a decidedly different vintage. I have also decided to excise DC superhero shows of the same era, as they were of a slightly different school of cartoons, despite having shared a lot of the same talent.

Here they are, then, from seven to one:

7) “Toonsylvania” (1998 – 2000)

This show went unwatched by many children, which is a pity, as it was stylish and spooky, and played less like a dumb, familiar retread of the Universal Monster canon like, say, “Gravedale High,” and more like vintage episodes of “The Addams Family.” Surely lesser than “Mad Monster Party” or “The Groovy Ghoulies,” “Toonsylvania” was, despite it all, an earnest horror comedy for children, and there are all too few of those. The show’s premise was kind of thin: The main characters were the hunchback Igor (Wayne Knight), Dr. Frankenstein (David Warner), and the creature Phil (Brad Garret), and their wacky adventures.

There were, in the tradition of “Animaniacs,” many asides featuring supporting characters like a goofy-looking zombie family, etc. What “Toonsylvania” tried to do was re-create the success of the earlier shows in the cycle, but with a Halloween theme.

For whatever reason, the show didn’t catch on. If you find old episodes, you’ll find that they are occasionally funny, very nicely designed, and somewhat clever, and featured some good voice work. You may not be impressed by it, though. There were much better shows out of the same stable.

6) “Taz-Mania” (1991 – 1993)

This was a truly weird idea that worked way better than it ought to have. We all remember The Tasmanian Devil from the old Bugs Bunny cartoons, which is odd, as he was only in two of the vintage shorts. He has, however, like Marvin the Martian, entered into the WB character “canon,” (for whatever that’s worth), and is often listed alongside heavy hitters like Bugs and Daffy and Porky as a central character from this universe.

In 1991, Warner Bros., in a bid to bank on the Taz character, gave him his own sitcom. In it, Taz now had a well-spoken, clothed family of Tasmania Devils, living in the yellow-skied Tasmanian outback, and constantly battling sitcom wits with dingos, wolves, platypi, and kiwis. The humor was hardly edgy, falling into the usual sitcom traditions that were old when “The Honeymooners” did it, but there was something pleasantly offbeat about the show. Perhaps it was the odd setting, or the unexpected detour from traditional anthropomorphic barnyard animals we had become used to…

Or maybe it was the fact that the show’s star, Taz (played by experienced voice actor Jim Cummings) was a semi-literate, grunting monster with a propensity for eating through tree trunks dropped surreally into the middle of a typical, somewhat bland children’s sitcom. That one little twinge of weirdness carried the show a long way, and provided the bulk of the show’s humor.

5) Pinky and The Brain (1995 – 1998)

A weird concept, originally intended to be a simple recurring gag on “Animaniacs,” “Pinky and the Brain” was one of the better cartoon ideas to come along in a long while. A pair of laboratory test mice (who rarely have any interaction with their human captors) would regularly break out of their cage, and go on nightly quests to conquer the world. It sounds like a simple idea sprung from a one-liner (“What do you want to do tonight?” “The same thing we do every night: Try to take over the world!”), but the idea gained a surprising amount of traction, leading to this spinoff series in 1995.

The show wasn’t necessarily well-written, but contained plenty of wonderful oddball moments to keep it buoyant, and the concept was just interesting enough, and proved easily stretchable. How do lab mice take over the world? Some of their schemes involved stink bombs, country music, weepy TV movies, and winnings on “Jeopardy!”

Adding to the show’s class was the brilliant voice work of Maurice LaMarche doing his best Orson Welles impersonation, in the role of The Brain. This is no cackling super-villain, but a calm, smug asshole who probably would make an intelligent world leader, were it not for his hubris, his backward thinking, and the constant fumbling of his dippy sidekick Pinky (Rob Paulsen). It’s been said that Ren & Stimpy were supposed to be Peter Lorre and Larry Fine, respectively, and that the dynamic between these disparate celebrities was the source of much of the show’s humor. Pinky and The Brain had a similar dynamic, only picture Orson Welles paired with a dumb Peter Cook.

4) Histeria! (1998 – 2000)

This may be an odd one to include so highly on this list, but I feel that “Histeria!” is the great under-appreciated gem in this particular crown. It went unwatched by many, and lasted as shortly as “Toonsyvania” (as well as my number one pick), but was an exemplar of what this cycle of cartoons was known for. You see, each of one these shows was marked by a level of sophistication rarely seen in Saturday morning cartoons. They contained adult pop culture references, self-deprecation, and self-aware humor to bring a brilliant and slightly ironic light to a medium previous consigned to boneheaded sitcom plots and overblown toy ads. During their more sparkling moments, these shows were clearly being made by a group of hard-working animators and writers who were mostly in the game to amuse themselves. They knew they needed the stamp of approval from the higher-ups, but for the time being, they would just write whatever weird stuff that amused them. In that regard, they resembled the old-school Termite Terrace of the 1940s, which produced the Bug Bunny cartoons (and hundreds of others) without much of a watchful eye from the studio heads.

“Histeria!” was a cheaply-animated little educational program that sought to teach children about the finer details of world history. Like Peabody and Sherman before them, they would get in a WABAC machine, and visit historical figures. But this was no adventure series. It played a lot more like a cheap Vaudeville variety act, including songs, jokes, and hopelessly obtuse references to borscht-belt comedians that your parents barely even remember. Nostradamus had a Yiddish accent. Abe Lincoln sounded like Jack Benny. Ernest Hemingway was played by Adam West.

What’s more, the show was not earnest or heavy in its presentation of raw information, putting them in the mouths of a bizarre menagerie of supporting characters, including Miss Information played by Laraine Newman, and a group of oddball children that don’t resemble anything in the human world. It was an information show from another dimension, and deserves a second look. I think it’s better than the likes of “Pinky and the Brain.”

3) Animaniacs (1993 – 1998)

We now take a giant leap forward in quality to what is perhaps the most beloved of the cycle, “Animaniacs.” No one I have spoken to between the ages of 20 and 35 did not watch this program, and does not occasionally quote it to peers. This is a cult phenomenon like none of the others on this list, and, having said, that, I understand that I’ll probably get a lot of flack for only including it at number three on this list. Why so low? Let me explain.

When “Animaniacs” was on, it was really on. It had some of the sharpest writing of any show. It has references to “GoodFellas” right after a cantankerous cartoon about a retired actress squirrel. It birthed the weird idea of “Pinky and the Brain,” and was culturally relevant in ways that cartoons rarely even aspire to be. There are some brilliant references to Jerry Lewis, to the Stooges, to “Apocalypse Now,” but in a significant way; the jokes will only make sense and be all the funnier if you’re familiar with the source material. As a result, college kids watched this show just as vehemently as young children. It made everyone giggle. The producers of the show even thought to cast Broadway legend Bernadette Peters as the voice of a singing cat. Kids don’t know who she is, but the grown ups can appreciate the golden pipes of a talented musician.

And the music was great. I know several people who bothered to memorize Yako singing the names of all the countries.

What’s more, many of the characters were brilliant constructions. I’ve already talked about the mice, but there was also the bitter Slappy the Squirrel, and the titular maniac, Yakko, Wakko and Dot, who were, as far as I can tell, a vague reference to the early days of Warner Bros. Cartoons when all the animals resembled white-faced rodents of some kind. Their humor wasn’t exactly the same as the old cartoons; they lacked the appropriate level of chaos, instead paying lip service to it. But they did have a flavor all their own which was still fun to watch.

I did, however, get the occasional feeling that the writers were phoning it in. However clever Yakko Wakko and Dot were on the surface, there seemed to be something slapped-together and lazy about the writing. Like they went for their first, sloppy ideas, and then played it out, hoping that it would eventually gel, which it didn’t always. This is a mild tonal complaint, but it’s still something that distracted me. I occasionally felt pandered to. Of course, I was in high school when the show first aired, so maybe I was already too old for the show.

Also, when the show was off, it was really off. For every brilliant and sublime comic moment, there were two completely misguided attempts at humor. For every Pinky and the Brain there was a Katie Kaboom, a Chicken Boo, and the human sunburn that is Mindy. Mindy was a little girl who would fecklessly wander into danger only to be rescued by her loyal dog Buttons. Buttons would, in turn, be punched for letting Mindy get out of her playpen. It was a cruel setup, and Mindy was so cute that she made me want to strangle her. Her cute little catchphrases and big, babydoll eyes have infected a generation of girls, and my eye twitches every time I hear a full-grown woman squeak out “O.k., I luv you, buh-bye.” Entire episodes of “Animaniacs” could unspool without a single funny moment, leaving you angered, and questioning why you’re watching this drivel. And that they would repeat, incessantly, every joke they came up with, only exacerbated the matter. When they repeated a funny conceit, it became more brilliant for the repetition. When they repeated a bad joke, it only got worse.

Like I said, a great show. But there are others I place above it.

2) “Tiny Toon Adventures” (1990 – 1992)

O.k. O.k. I realize that “Tiny Toon Adventures” was not always well-written. Indeed, a lot of the day-to-day gags they had were outright limp. But the advantage “Tiny Toon Adventures” had over its contemporaries was strength of character. What looked like, at first glace, hip, updated versions of the Looney Tunes (Buster Bunny instead of Bugs, Hamton Pig instead of Porky, Plucky Duck instead of Daffy, etc. ) proved to be a brand new rogues gallery of more fully-realized characters than such an imitation had any right to have. More than mere imitation, it proved to capture that rare quality that all remakes try for and rarely achieve: re-imagining.

Our heroes lived in a vast land (similar to Burbank, CA) called Acme Acres. They were all about 12, and were concerned with 12-year-old concerns (like playing games, going to school, gossip). They went to school at Acme Looniversity where they were taught by the actual Looney Tunes stars in matters of cartoon acting (popping eyes, falling anvil, etc.). The Animaniacs lived in the Warner Bros. Lot in Burbank, but would merrily skip through time, giving them show a contrived feeling. The Tiny Toons would navigate a real map, an actual geography, and would, as a consequence, have a stronger sense of reality and humor for it.

What’s more, the Tiny Toons were relatable kids. The show debuted when I was 12, but it still reminds me of a halycon childhood of playing the back yard, having squirt gun fights, and making friends with new kids. This was something “Animaniacs” lacked. It was a funny variety show that was occasionally amazing, but never actually reached out and talked to the kids. When they were spinning their wheels, they were just talking at us. “Tiny Toons,” even on their bad days, were at least trying to talk to us.

I can describe Buster Bunny using just his character traits. I can describe Plucky Duck. I can’t do that with many other cartoon stars of this era. The rest were wild weirdos who were occasionally cruel for no reason. The Tiny Toons had a soul. What’s more, they had that wonderful straight-to-video movie “How I Spend My Vacation,” which is, without hyperbole, one of the better summer vacation movies ever made. The Plucky Duck story, about being stuck on a long car ride, is amazing.

I openly admit that “Tiny Toons” was very occasionally badly written. They very often fell into dull sitcom conceits or stories that turned out to be joke-free. Even their high moments (particularly “Milk, It Makes a Body Spout”) were more laffy than hysterical. But the average was very high because of it, and I feel the show is one of the best the studio produced.

1) “Freakazoid!” (1995 – 1997)

But the “Animaniacs” vs. “Tiny Toons” is all academic, as we have the greatest of the shows right in front of us, and that is the truly absurd piece of ahead-of-its-time Dada television that is “Freakazoid!,” the cycles superhero spoof that played less like a comedy or a superhero show, and more like a satire of a Beckett play. I mentioned that the creators of these shows often seemed to be including weird jokes that amused them at the time. The creators of the show have openly admitted that that’s what they were doing the entire time on “Freakazoid!” They would include goofy lines of dialogue, unexpected riffs in the recording booth, and even stuff they never intended toinclude. Indeed, even the shows’ lead star, Paul Rugg, also one of the writers, didn’t even know he was going to be the lead in the show until they used his scratch track as the main thing.

The setup was paper-thin and often violated. Evidently, a young nerd named Dexter Douglas accidentally activated a flaw in his computer processor, causing him to be sucked into the internet (and this was the internet in 1995, so largely chat rooms and “Ate My Balls” jokes), and bodily transformed into Freakazoid, a madcap weirdo with blue skin, a red bodysuit, and the voice of Paul Rugg. Dexter found he could transform back and forth, and lived a double life as a superhero, unbeknownst to his bully brother, his stone-face June Cleaver mom, and his dippy dad (“Shut up you two, or I’ll come back there and butter your heads!”

Frakazoid has a pal in the form of Sgt. Cosgrove, played by Ed Asner as a tough-talking cop whose primary function seemed to be to distract Freakazoid from the task at hand with mints or spumoni or screenings of “Congo.”

But this sort of secret identity/crimefighter conciet wasn’t ever really addressed, as Freakazoid found himself fighting increasingly bizarre villains more often than he would have any sort of angst. It was like the studio was trying to come up with a wry and surreal antidote to their own serious Batman cartoons.

The asides all landed. Lord Bravery is a Basil Fawlty-like superhero. The Huntsman constantly found himself out of a job. Even Foamy the Freakadog had a few golden moments. My favorite supporting character was probably Fanboy (Bill Mumy), a super-nerd who glommed onto Freakazoid with a vise-like grip, and spewed pop culture nonsense with the best of them. Look out for when Mark Hamill appeared on the show.

The final episode of the show (which was canceled early due to its baffling nature and inability to appeal to little kids) featured a guest spot by Ricardo Montalban and Norm Abram. ‘Cause kids love Norm Abram.

The funniest, the smartest, the turest, and easily the best, “Freakazoid!” is one for the ages.

Witney Seibold is a writer and film critic living in Los Angeles. He perhaps watched cartoons until too late an age, when he should have been studying for his calculus class. He is erudite and perhaps a bit snotty, but stands by his opinions. You can read his films reviews (over 850 to date) on his ‘blog, Three Cheers for Darkened Years! And you can hear his voice on The B-Movies Podcast on Crave Online, which he co-hosts with William Bibbiani.