Betty Boop: before and after introducion of the Hays Code
I.
The Motion Picture Production Code was a set of moral guidelines applied to US films released by major studios from 1930 to 1968. Often known as the Hays Code, after William Hays, president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (1922-1945), it clearly set out what was and was not acceptable content for movies produced for the American public.
Whilst it obviously restricted filmmaking, it coincidently overlapped with the Golden Age of Hollywood, demonstrating that explicit sex and graphic violence are not essential elements of great movies.
The Motion Picture Production Code was a set of moral guidelines applied to US films released by major studios from 1930 to 1968. Often known as the Hays Code, after William Hays, president of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (1922-1945), it clearly set out what was and was not acceptable content for movies produced for the American public.
Whilst it obviously restricted filmmaking, it coincidently overlapped with the Golden Age of Hollywood, demonstrating that explicit sex and graphic violence are not essential elements of great movies.
Just to be clear: I'm not advocating censorship. As a Lawrentian, I'm instinctively hostile to the censor-morons who heavy-handedly enforce the letter of the law and I believe that ultimately censorship helps nobody and harms many; arresting and circumscribing the development of vital human consciousness.*
All I'm doing, rather, is reminding readers that whilst numerous aspects of the Code now seem ridiculous and reprehensible, many great directors made many great films whilst working within its framework. (Of course, it could be argued that these films were made in spite of the Code and that there are at least an equal number of films weakened by cuts insisted upon by the censors.)
One star whose career was certainly impacted negatively by the Code, was animated favourite Betty Boop ...
II.
Created by Max Fleischer, Betty Boop made her first appearance in the six-minute adventure Dizzy Dishes (1930). At this stage, she appeared as a neotenous-looking half-woman, half-poodle, though still with her distinctive features including a large round baby face, big eyes, and a carefully styled coiffure - and still dressed like a Jazz Age flapper, with a short skirt and stockings.
Within a year, Betty became fully human and her floppy ears were replaced with signature hoop earrings. She soon dumped her original canine boyfriend - the tubby black-and-white dog known as Bimbo - and began to flirt with human love interests, including Popeye the sailor.**
In 1932, thanks to her popularity amongst adult audiences as a two-dimensional sex symbol, she was given her own series and crowned queen of the animated screen. However, after 1934, when the Hays Code began to be more rigorously enforced and the Catholic Legion of Decency also jumped on her case, Betty's overt sexuality became problematic.
Joseph Breen - the head film censor appointed by Hays - ordered the removal of the saucy openings to Betty's short films, deeming her winks and wiggles suggestive of immorality. Her animators were also obliged to provide her with a more demure appearance.
Personally, I prefer this new look. But most critics seem to agree that Betty's best days were already behind her by 1935. No longer the carefree adolescent boop-oop-a-dooping her way through one risqué adventure after another, Betty was reinvented as a housewife or a career girl. No more garter on display; no more gold bracelets or hoop earrings; even the curls in her hair gradually softened and decreased as the years passed.
Betty was now a little more mature and a little more responsible: in a word, boring. And her films, now aimed at a much younger audience, were disappointingly tame compared to her earlier adventures; their self-conscious wholesomeness contributing to the waning of her star.
Further, by 1938 the Jazz Age was well and truly over, having been superseded by the era of swing and the big band sound. Desperate attempts to have Betty move with the times were doomed to failure. However, eighty years on, and Miss Boop has retained her iconic status within popular culture and the pornographic imagination (second only to Jessica Rabbit as the sexiest cartoon character of all time).
Within a year, Betty became fully human and her floppy ears were replaced with signature hoop earrings. She soon dumped her original canine boyfriend - the tubby black-and-white dog known as Bimbo - and began to flirt with human love interests, including Popeye the sailor.**
In 1932, thanks to her popularity amongst adult audiences as a two-dimensional sex symbol, she was given her own series and crowned queen of the animated screen. However, after 1934, when the Hays Code began to be more rigorously enforced and the Catholic Legion of Decency also jumped on her case, Betty's overt sexuality became problematic.
Joseph Breen - the head film censor appointed by Hays - ordered the removal of the saucy openings to Betty's short films, deeming her winks and wiggles suggestive of immorality. Her animators were also obliged to provide her with a more demure appearance.
Personally, I prefer this new look. But most critics seem to agree that Betty's best days were already behind her by 1935. No longer the carefree adolescent boop-oop-a-dooping her way through one risqué adventure after another, Betty was reinvented as a housewife or a career girl. No more garter on display; no more gold bracelets or hoop earrings; even the curls in her hair gradually softened and decreased as the years passed.
Betty was now a little more mature and a little more responsible: in a word, boring. And her films, now aimed at a much younger audience, were disappointingly tame compared to her earlier adventures; their self-conscious wholesomeness contributing to the waning of her star.
Further, by 1938 the Jazz Age was well and truly over, having been superseded by the era of swing and the big band sound. Desperate attempts to have Betty move with the times were doomed to failure. However, eighty years on, and Miss Boop has retained her iconic status within popular culture and the pornographic imagination (second only to Jessica Rabbit as the sexiest cartoon character of all time).
Notes
* See Lawrence's letter to Morris Ernest of 10 November 1928, in The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. VI (1927-28), ed. James and Margaret Boulton with Gerald M. Lacy, (Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 613.
** Amusingly, there is even supposed to exist a pornographic short featuring Betty and Popeye. According to Jim Hill, in 1938 Max Fleischer wished to thank animators who had moved from New York to a new studio in Florida by throwing a party at which he screened a one-reel film in which Popeye requires his spinach in order to satisfy a sexually insatiable Betty. It's unknown what became of the film (if in fact it ever existed). See Jim Hill, Why For? (10 April 2003): click here.
See also an interesting article by Heather Hendershot, 'Secretary, Homemaker, and 'White' Woman: Industrial Censorship and Betty Boop's Shifting Design', in the Journal of Design History, Vol. 8, No. 2 (Oxford University Press, 1995), pp. 117-130. Click here for a link via which the essay can be purchased and downloaded.
* See Lawrence's letter to Morris Ernest of 10 November 1928, in The Letters of D. H. Lawrence, Vol. VI (1927-28), ed. James and Margaret Boulton with Gerald M. Lacy, (Cambridge University Press, 1991), p. 613.
** Amusingly, there is even supposed to exist a pornographic short featuring Betty and Popeye. According to Jim Hill, in 1938 Max Fleischer wished to thank animators who had moved from New York to a new studio in Florida by throwing a party at which he screened a one-reel film in which Popeye requires his spinach in order to satisfy a sexually insatiable Betty. It's unknown what became of the film (if in fact it ever existed). See Jim Hill, Why For? (10 April 2003): click here.
See also an interesting article by Heather Hendershot, 'Secretary, Homemaker, and 'White' Woman: Industrial Censorship and Betty Boop's Shifting Design', in the Journal of Design History, Vol. 8, No. 2 (Oxford University Press, 1995), pp. 117-130. Click here for a link via which the essay can be purchased and downloaded.
