"Coonskin" earned critical reappraisal in the 1990s and is now regarded as one of Ralph Bakshi's best films. However, time has still not been kind to this movie. When it premiered, its audience was familiar with the broad stereotypes it was mocking. For example, a Sunday newspaper comic strip continued the adventures of Br'er Rabbit from "Song of the South" until 1972. To today's audiences, the big-lipped, jive-talkin' characters of "Coonskin"-and its very title-likely feel every bit as offensive as the tar baby or Uncle Remus.
Watching "Coonskin" today can feel like an exercise in assuring yourself you're not a bad person. I read about the film before watching it and was glad to learn that Bakshi employed Black animators who were overlooked by traditional studios. Watching the credits, I felt assured by Bakshi's collaboration with prominent, outspoken figures in the 1970s-Scatman Crothers, Barry White, and Charles Gordone foremost among them. My mind struggled, though, to reconcile their participation with what was onscreen.
As with other Bakshi movies, "Cookskin" feels drug induced. The plot is related in zany fragments, with rambling dialog that often seems unconnected from the characters. Some sequences follow the progression of a standard cartoon setup-Brother Rabbit begging Savior not to kill him in a very Bugs Bunny-esque moment, for one example-only to be undercut by a "punchline" that makes little sense.
As a result, I'm not sure what this movie _is_. It's not surefooted or precise enough to be parody. It's also not funny enough to be comedy. And in spite of its cast and writers, it's not incisive enough to be good social commentary. Again, I'm approaching this as a viewer in 2021, hyper-attuned to the offensiveness of this movie's imagery. But I can't help feeling that Bakshi was exploiting and almost celebrating racial and ethnic caricatures rather than destroying them.
Watching "Coonskin" today can feel like an exercise in assuring yourself you're not a bad person. I read about the film before watching it and was glad to learn that Bakshi employed Black animators who were overlooked by traditional studios. Watching the credits, I felt assured by Bakshi's collaboration with prominent, outspoken figures in the 1970s-Scatman Crothers, Barry White, and Charles Gordone foremost among them. My mind struggled, though, to reconcile their participation with what was onscreen.
As with other Bakshi movies, "Cookskin" feels drug induced. The plot is related in zany fragments, with rambling dialog that often seems unconnected from the characters. Some sequences follow the progression of a standard cartoon setup-Brother Rabbit begging Savior not to kill him in a very Bugs Bunny-esque moment, for one example-only to be undercut by a "punchline" that makes little sense.
As a result, I'm not sure what this movie _is_. It's not surefooted or precise enough to be parody. It's also not funny enough to be comedy. And in spite of its cast and writers, it's not incisive enough to be good social commentary. Again, I'm approaching this as a viewer in 2021, hyper-attuned to the offensiveness of this movie's imagery. But I can't help feeling that Bakshi was exploiting and almost celebrating racial and ethnic caricatures rather than destroying them.