Editorials
How ‘Cuphead’ Resurrected the Unsettling Style of Early Cartoons
Before the “House of Mouse” forever associated cartoons as a genre predominantly for kids, animation wasn’t quite so family-friendly. The video game Cuphead resurrected the surreal and terrifying style of Fleischer Animation and Disney Studios early cartoons. Best of all, Cuphead doesn’t market itself as unsettling, the game is rated E after all – its biggest offenses (according to the back of the box) being gambling and tobacco use. Instead of inserting frightening aspects into the game, the developers (Studio MDHR) heightened what was already present in a lot of early cartoons. Gamers who look between the hand-drawn lines of animation will uncover a nightmare of body-horror, black comedy, and terror.
Old cartoons, even more than silent films, feel like they’re from a different planet. Modern viewers usually note several unsettling qualities of retro cartoons. One of the most obvious ones is a bounciness featured in those early films. The “bouncing” was due to the popular animation style of the time nicknamed: rubber hose animation. It was a technique where character’s bodies lacked sharp edges or joints and instead had bendy long black tubes for appendages. Combining this with simple repetitive animation (bouncing) was intended to make the film’s more alive and better animated. What was cost-cutting in theory, turned out terrifying in practice. Other upsetting aspects of those films went beyond the limitations of animation of the time though. These unsettling storytelling choices were very much intentional.
Early animated films often feature a strange set of intense moralistic values (which Cuphead also plays up). The perfect example is “Swing You Sinners” (a 30’s Fleischer Studios cartoon ). In “Swing You Sinners,” a happy-go-lucky dog named Bimbo steals a chicken and is hounded by the forces of hell until a giant skeleton eats him. Being dragged to hell for chicken theft might be a tad excessive of a punishment, regardless, this Puritan “all or nothing” value system was present in many cartoons of the time. There aren’t any concrete theories as to why these cartoons had such harsh morals, though the fact that cartoons at the time weren’t exclusively produced for children certainly had something to do with it. Still, one could argue that the idea behind these intense parables stemmed from an attempt to teach kids about right and wrong (in the scariest possible way apparently). The idea is similar to Grimm’s Fairy Tales, which, on the surface, were about princes and princesses but also sneakily featured incest, murder, and torture. Together, the morals and quirky stylistic choices of the era create a bouncing nightmare of cheeriness – which is exactly what Cuphead is.
The biggest antiquated animation motif Cuphead’s creators borrow is of course the ever-present smiles on the game’s mascots. Both Mug Man and Cuphead are fitted with a set of vacant coin-eyes and toothy-grins, previously featured on mascots like Felix the Cat or Bimbo the Dog. The smiles are doubly unsettling since players spend the majority of the game murdering other cartoon characters. Cuphead extends this frightening aesthetic choice into other aspects of the game’s world. Minor opponents are all equipped with resting states, a default animation cycle to return to when they’re not engaged. The resting states for most minions is them simply grinning ear-to-ear along with a Judge Doom-like set of unblinking eyeballs. The result is as if the cast of stuffed animatronics from Splash Mountain gained sentience and went “Westworld” on unsuspecting guests.
Cuphead also adopts the perverse morals of the cartoons it takes inspiration from. The game’s story is presented as a fairytale that follows our heroes as they’re turned into indentured soul collector’s by the Devil as punishment for gambling their own souls away. Again, this is a throwback to early cartoon works like Disney’s Pinocchio, which featured the deceptive Pleasure Island (a local not too dissimilar to the Devil’s Casino in Cuphead). Like poor Pinocchio, our child-like protagonists are sucked in by adult vices and punished for it; although they’re thankfully spared this fate. Then there are the bosses.
One of Cuphead’s biggest achievements is creating horror from its boss fights through the natural extension of rubber-band animation: body horror. Each boss in Cuphead has multiple phases, with each phase distorting and mutilating the bosses original form. Enemies rip off their heads, morph into strange shapes, and much worse. By the end of fights, bosses barely resemble their kid-friendly first appearance. As the bosses slowly stretch and warp, they transform into the full realization of Cuphead‘s thesis: there’s a fine line between creepy and cute.
Cuphead’s guise of being a “kid-friendly” cartoon game was a massive success. The E-rated title was one of the best rated games of 2017 and is still incredibly popular two years after launch. Surprisingly, the game did end-up especially resonating with younger fans, inspiring a line of toys, blankets, and an air-freshener (yes that’s true). Studio MDHR did their job so well that most players don’t pick-up on the latent horror themes in the game’s story and presentation. Much like when audiences were heading to watch Bimbo or Mickey’s latest exploits, few realized that this wide-grinned cartoon had its roots in horror. But, the further gamer’s progress, the more they understand that something deeply twisted is lurking under the surface of each cell of animation.
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
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