‘The Cat That Hated People’: Tex Avery’s charming exploration of misanthropy
The global discourse around the history of American animation is primarily dominated by the contributions of world-renowned pioneers like Walt Disney, but such a vision of the fascinating field is far too reductive. While Disney crystallised the mainstream American animated image with his major IPs, many transgressive artists were simultaneously working against those sentimental frameworks. One such artist was the truly brilliant Tex Avery.
Known for his work with studios like MGM and Warner Bros, Avery actively dismantled the cute and commodified anthropomorphisation championed by Disney. His animated animals didn’t just capture the attention of children but also spoke to the troubles of adults, using absurdism and irony to address all kinds of sociopolitical issues. Ranging from Spongebob SquarePants to the works of anime director Masaaki Yuasa, Avery’s influence is simply inescapable.
One of the reasons why Avery’s visual style always feels so free and fresh is because he knew that animation was capable of transcending the limitations of live-action filmmaking. During an interview, he once explained: “The secret in animating is first to have an everlasting sense of humour, next to be able to see the commonplace in a funny way and most important of all, to be able to sketch your idea so that the other person will think it’s funny.”
A perfect example of Avery’s genius is the 1948 film The Cat That Hated People, demonstrating his unique comedic approach. It tells the tragic story of Blackie the Cat, who exists on the margins of human society. Homeless and rejected by everyone around him, he sneaks from one house to another every night while trying to scrounge up scraps of food and affection. However, all he receives is verbal and physical abuse from everyone around him.
It’s such a striking portrait of misanthropy that we can draw connections from it to other major works in the genre, including Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. While Travis Bickle weaponised his misanthropy to process his madness through violence, all Blackie does is borrow a rocket from a large corporation in order to fly to the moon. He hopes that the isolation will heal his wounded soul, but the loneliness and silence induce a psychotic break.
Avery’s depiction of insanity is simply stunning, using teleological absurdities such as a horn capable of blowing itself and a fire hydrant being chased by a non-existent dog to comment on the inherent meaninglessness of a universe without life. It’s impossible not to think of the most iconic animated segment about human loneliness while watching this, namely the ‘Freedom’ segment in Neon Genesis Evangelion, where the dimensions of reality crumble when the protagonist realises what true isolation means.
In a moment of incisive political satire, Blackie the Cat returns to the USA and becomes a flag-waving patriot while declaring that his home was always the best place for him. Happily submitting to the people who walked all over him throughout his life, he realises what being a “good citizen” means.
Watch the film below.
