Porky tries to relax on a hunting and fishing trip, but Daffy, smugly pointing out the "No Duck Hunting" signs, subjects him to constant irritation. Then the "Duck Hunting Season Open" signs start going up.
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Thanks for the memories!
hyped garbage
Fresh and Exciting
I think this is a new genre that they're all sort of working their way through it and haven't got all the kinks worked out yet but it's a genre that works for me.
My Favourite Duck isn't an immediate favourite, but it is still a delightful Looney Tunes cartoon. My only minor complaint is the slightly blocky animation of Porky, but other than that I had no other problems. The animation in general is crisp, colourful and smooth, the music is stirring, the pacing is cracking and the story is engaging. The dialogue is witty and inventive and there are enough clever sight gags to amuse as well. Favourite scenes? The perfect harmonisation of Moonlight Bay and the surprise ending. Both Daffy and Porky are wonderful here, Daffy especially is superb and just carries the cartoon, and Mel Blanc is superb as always. Overall, delightful. 10/10 Bethany Cox
This is an amusing cartoon, which (as was pointed out in another comment on this thread) was taking a typical Bugs Bunny - Elmer Fudd situation ("Peace and welaxation at wast!", said Elmer in one very similar earlier cartoon), using Daffy Duck and Porky Pig as the alternates. At this point in time (1942) Elmer was still in a period of change in shape and features, sometimes fat and sometimes with a red pickle shaped nose - and sometimes referred to as "Egghead". But Porky Pig's basics had been laid down by the late 1930s (originally he too was immensely fat, but gradually his rotundity was made more acceptable). Daffy and Bugs went through alterations too, though not as extreme as Porky and Elmer. Both the duck and bunny were anarchistic and malicious, but Bugs had demonstrated a cleverness and control over the world that lasted until the end of every cartoon. Bugs is a master of his universe (much to the discomfort of such foes as Elmer, Yosemite Sam, Wile E. Coyote ("Genius"), and the Tazmanian Devil. Daffy due to personality problems never is such a master, and the conclusion of this cartoon demonstrates it.Porky is going on a hopefully restful vacation in the wild, but he finds Daffy tagging along to annoy him at every possible moment. This includes preventing him from putting his tent up anywhere on land, and even stealing his food. But the real ace up Daffy's sleeve for most of the cartoon is that it is not Duck hunting season, so nothing can be physically done to harm Daffy by Porky in retaliation for what Daffy has been doing.It is a good trick - unfortunately it doesn't last. Daffy suddenly finds that it is now Duck hunting season, and (moreover) he in particular is to be targeted for destruction. Daffy finds he is in serious danger from an enraged Porky.The ending of the cartoon was actually slightly reused years later in a Bugs - Yosemite Sam cartoon, where the film seems to break and we are unaware of what happened to the two characters. It is symbolic of Bugs mastery of his universe as opposed to Daffy's attempt at mastery that Bugs gets the better of Sam, while Porky gets the better of Daffy.
Maybe there's nothing particularly new in "My Favorite Duck", but how can you not like to see Daffy irk Porky? True, we see this so many times, that this may come across as boring, but Daffy's antics - ranging from zany to sadistic - and Porky's reactions more than make up for it. In my opinion at least, the highlight is the "down here" scene. But the surprise ending is also pretty cool. They sure must have had fun filming this cartoon."That, my friend, is a matter of opinion." Well, I don't see how someone could not consider this cartoon a masterpiece. Another great one for the crowd behind the Looney Tunes cartoons.
'My Favorite Duck' may seem to be little more than a variation on the classic Bugs Bunny model, wherein an elusive creature, more normally thought of as easy prey, interminably torments his slow-witted hunter. And boy can Daffy torment, a whirligig irritant, managing to be in all places at once, on land, air or sea, in every conceivable position, at every conceivable angle. The thing is, Porky is no Elmer or Sylvester, he wishes Daffy no harm, he just wants relaxation and solitude in the great outdoors, as promised by decades of American Western mythology. Daffy goads him out of his solitude, his apathy, forces him to take action (he is a dark subconsious sprite mocking our unsociable, isolationist, private ideals), just as a year earlier, America was shocked into entering World War II.Daffy is the black to Porky's white, they are inseparable - without Daffy, Porky seems incomplete; with him he turns from a peace-loving, nature-seeking dolt into a fearsome murderer, whose inexorable forward drive, fuelled by anger and righteous vengeance, has all the brute force of an army, so powerful that it bursts open the frame, destroys the world of the film, that vast Western expanse, the very reel itself, turning our two protagonists, who are of course mere lines, into ghosts, playacting at movement, life. We many be over-familiar with such self-reflexivity now, but think back to 1942, the year of 'Casablanca' - it must have been unnerving, especially coming from Hollywood.'My Favorite Duck' is directed by Chuck Jones, one of the great directors, and he relishes the darkness, the playfulness, the formal implications of the story; the paradox of turning a rigid square frame into a site of insane movement and endless possibility, while at the same time reducing the vast Western outdoors, that mythic site unsullied by history, where a man can be free, of people, of his past, is narrowed, Leone-like, into a claustrophobic space, where you simply cannot get rid of that deuced awkward, protean Other (this is signalled earlier on in an establishing shot, where the landscape looks curiously like a duck's mouth).Amid all the gleeful carnage, there are two standout, gravity-defying sequences, which turn emblems of easy-going bourgeois Americana into nightmare scenarios, devoid of security or perspective by a mere flip, where the breaking of the laws of physics encourage rupture in the laws of property and identity; as a snoozing angler finds himself suspended from a sea-turned-sky, hurtling to his own imagined self, or joining his perfect home flying into space, exact in every reassuring particular except it's grounded on air. Magic!