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Book Reviews

Richard Fleischer, Out of the Inkwell: Max Fleischer and the Anima-
tion Revolution. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2005. 232 pp.,
63 illus. ISBN 0–8131–2355–0 (hbk). DOI: 10.1177/1746847706065848

Max Fleischer’s cartoon studio was responsible for creating some of

the most eccentric and funny animated pictures in the medium’s rela-
tively short history. The studio’s cartoon universe projected a very
distinct aura throughout the 1910s, 1920s and 1930s. Fleischer films’
‘cartoony’ language of metamorphic extravagance, their idiosyncratic
characters and gloomy East coast urban feel made them stand out as
the creative antithesis to Walt Disney’s bright, attractive, ‘realistic’ and
overtly didactic cartoon universe. However, despite patenting some
innovative technological devices, such as the Rotoscope, the Roto-
graph, and the Stereoptical process, and introducing to the big screen
animated icons such as Betty Boop (see Figure 1), Popeye, and the first
animated superhero (Superman), Max Fleischer never became a house-
hold name like Walt Disney. Until now, there has been only one
English-language book dedicated to the works of this multitalented
man – Leslie Cabarga’s influential, yet outdated The Fleischer Story
(1976). Other writings on Max Fleischer’s studio have generally been
limited to essays in anthologies and journals, articles in animation
magazines, or master’s theses and doctoral dissertations.
Out of the Inkwell: Max Fleischer and the Animation Revolution,
written by Richard Fleischer, Max Fleischer’s son and a reputable
Hollywood director, is a book that has long been overdue. It is divided
into 28 brief chapters tracing Fleischer’s history: Max’s formative
years; his relationship with his future wife, Essie; his difficult begin-
nings in the industry; his experimentations and innovations in the field
of the animated cartoon; and his subsequent triumphs and setbacks

animation: an interdisciplinary journal (http://anm.sagepub.com)

Copyright © 2006 SAGE Publications (London, Thousand Oaks, CA and New Delhi)
Vol 1(1): 119–128 [1746-8477(200607)]10.1177/1746847706065846

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120 animation: an interdisciplinary journal 1(1)

Figure 1
The inimitable Mae Questel along with
Betty Boop, Bimbo and Max doing
their ‘selling act’. Published with
permission of the publishers. © 2005
The University Press of Kentucky:
Richard Fleischer, Out of the Inkwell:
Max Fleischer and the Animation
Revolution.

instigated by the studio’s relationship with its distributor, Paramount

Pictures. Generally, Richard Fleischer is more interested in his father’s
preoccupation with technological gadgetry than with Max’s animated
films. This is understandable though, since Max Fleischer himself was
more concerned with the technological aspect of cartoon-making,
while his brother Dave and the studio’s head animators (who are,
surprisingly, barely mentioned in this book) were more responsible for
the actual task of bringing the animated cartoons to life. The final
pages of the book are dedicated to Max’s last years and his family’s
efforts to preserve this animation pioneer’s legacy, exemplified by
the resurrection of Betty Boop as a modern pop-culture icon, and
Fleischer Studios’ subsequent growth into a prosperous company.
Hollywood’s ‘golden era’ animation is a very complex area of study.
The lack of empirical evidence regarding different studio personalities,
work conditions, professional operations and business maneuverings
has often been substituted with retrospective first-hand accounts. This
book is no exception in this regard, as it heavily relies on personal
recollections – most notably the author’s own memories – of Max
Fleischer’s achievements, business decisions, and family life. Undoubt-
edly, the most engaging parts of the book are the author’s reminis-
cences of the very real human figure behind the black-and-white
footage of the mustached studio boss (see Figure 2). This kind of
subjective historical narrativity, however, tends to foreground many

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 Book reviews 121

Figure 2
Max and Ko-Ko play together on-
screen. Published with permission of
the publishers. © 2005 The University
Press of Kentucky: Richard Fleischer,
Out of the Inkwell: Max Fleischer and
the Animation Revolution.

methodological problems that surround animation studies in general

and Hollywood cartoon research in particular. The reliance on recall to
paint a coherent historical picture always carries a potential burden of
misrepresentation, distortion, or biased recontextualization of the past
(for whatever reason). For example, the first few chapters dealing with
the ‘early years’ (early 1900s to late 1910s) tend to paint a rather
sketchy portrait of Max’s life (e.g. Max’s romanticized relationship with
Essie, his well-known beginnings in the industry), which Richard Fleis-
cher acknowledges is due to the fact that ‘there is no one still around
who knew him then’ (p. 26). In addition, the author’s rather sweeping
statements such as ‘Max and the Rotoscope changed animated cartoons
from a curiosity into an industry’ (p. 29) are never supported with the
kind of empirical evidence that would elevate them above the poten-
tial ‘great man’ historiographical fallacies. The book’s point-of-view
approach is therefore arguably its main strength and, at the same time,
its main weakness. Even though it is a valuable document of an import-
ant animation figure, the book’s overtly celebratory tone must be
acknowledged when discussing its historical significance.
A number of chapters (19 to 26) are dedicated to one of Holly-
wood’s great mysteries – Paramount Pictures’ unexpected takeover of

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122 animation: an interdisciplinary journal 1(1)

Fleischer Studios in 1941–2. It is well known that Max Fleischer’s

family has never been satisfied with the previous account (Cabarga,
1976) of the Fleischer story. According to Fleischer historian Michael
Dobbs, Richard Fleischer complained that
Carbaga [sic] went ahead with his book but without the cooperation of the
Max Fleischer family, which is ninety percent of the story, [and] the book
turned out to be a completely distorted and lopsided affair full of inaccura-
cies and slanted so as to denigrate my father. (Dobbs, 2005)

Richard Fleischer’s account of Fleischer Studios’ history in general,

and Paramount’s takeover in particular, should be approached with
this perspective in mind. Therefore, contrary to the book cover’s
assertion that ‘Max’s son Richard has at last solved the mystery of the
shuttering of Fleischer Studios’, Richard Fleischer’s contribution to
this intricate issue is rather more modest. His account problematizes
the existing versions (particularly Cabarga’s) of the murky business
behind the studio’s demise, adding more detail to the mosaic of fact,
speculation, and point-of-view interpretation of this era. As such,
although Fleischer’s writing is evidently colored by his father’s
perspective (e.g. Paramount being depicted as the fundamentally
unscrupulous side in the conflict, Max’s and Essie’s negative traits
being downplayed), it is both a valuable complement and challenge
to the existing truths and myths behind this chapter in American
animation history. One thing that Richard Fleischer should be
commended for is the fact that he manages to handle the feud between
Max and Dave credibly and with restraint.
The book does contain some factual errors. For example, the names
of the studio technician John Burks, and the Fleischers’ first employee,
Charles Schettler, are misspelled. The author also makes some asser-
tions which might be seen as historically erroneous (e.g. the assertion
that the Baby Esther tape is what settled the Helen Kane lawsuit). In
addition, the book contains a faulty statement that with Minding the
Baby (1931), the Fleischers’ ‘Talkartoon’ series was renamed the
‘Betty Boop’ series (p. 51); in fact, there were at least 15 more cartoons
in the ‘Talkartoon’ series after Minding the Baby.
Despite these errors and the book’s other shortcomings, which are
almost inevitable for this kind of presentation, Richard Fleischer’s Out
of the Inkwell: Max Fleischer and the Animation Revolution is a
precious record of an important animation pioneer. It is a valuable
document, especially from the point of view of biography. As such, it
should interest animation scholars and cartoon enthusiasts alike.

Reference
Cabarga, Leslie (1988[1976]) The Fleischer Story. Jackson, TN: Da Capo Press.
Dobbs, Michael (2005) Out of the Inkwell blog, 5 December [http:
//outoftheinkwell.blogspot.com/2005/12/your-childhood-does-mark-you.html]

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 Book reviews 123

Gordan Calma teaches Film Studies at Carleton University, Ottawa,

Canada. He is webmaster of the Fleischer Popeye Tribute website
[www.fleischerpopeye.com] and programmed a Fleischer Popeye
retrospective for the Ottawa 04 International Animation Festival.
[email: gcalma@rogers.com]

Natalia Krivulja, ‘Labyrinths of Animation’: Research into the Artistic

Image in Russian Animation during the Second Half of the 20th
Century.Moscow:Graal,2002.295pp.DOI:10.1177/1746847706065849

A labyrinth is not the first thing that springs to mind when thinking
of animation. In the original Greek sense, a kabt́qimhoy simply means
a building with a complicated layout. Today’s meaning – a complicated
structure of interconnecting passages through which it is difficult to
find a way – is not necessarily a metaphor that is evident when
speaking of cartoons.
Nevertheless, Natalia Krivulja has chosen the labyrinth as a motto
for her recently published monograph ‘Лабиринты анимации.
Исследование художественного образа российских анимаци-
онных фильмов второй половины ХХ века’ (‘Labyrinths of Anima-
tion’: Research into the Artistic Image in Russian Animation during the
Second Half of the 20th Century). In the introduction, she explains
why:
Animation is a curious world of images, at the same time familiar, dear,
extremely well known from childhood, and yet unrecognized, enigmatic,
attractive. This attraction is equal for almost everybody, regardless of age or
social status . . . The intricate structure of this world lets one expect a
complicated, puzzling journey full of unforeseen events. This is what has
led us to the allegory of a labyrinth. (p. 3)

Even if this definition of animation as a labyrinth may seem a little

flowery, it emphasizes something of the sheer quantity of material
involved which, for the most part, has never been worked on in an
international context. Her book introduces and tackles the process of
an evolution that has scarcely been fully acknowledged by Animation
Studies in the West.
The Stalinist understanding of socialist realism, intended to produce
‘images that are made with the purpose of helping along a desirable
reality’ (Wyss, 1997: 57), had put an effective end to the artistic
research and experimentation of the early years. When its influence
began to dwindle in the late 1950s and early 1960s, not only literature
and painting underwent far-reaching changes in their narrative and
illustrative systems, but animators also set out to challenge the
doctrine that had tied down their visual imagination for the last two
decades. What Giannalberto Bendazzi (1994) calls a ‘timid revolution’
(p. 177) was, for the artists involved, a very radical change indeed.

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