Gary Conrad, Debi Derryberry, and a Talking Banana

Gary Conrad is a 30-year industry veteran and the Emmy and Annie Award nominated director of  The Fairly Odd Parents.  He recently completed his side project - a documentary called Debi Derryberry: Cheery and Fun and talked to FLIP about his film.

FLIP: What drove you to make Cheery and Fun? 

Gary: Growing up in Kentucky, I made one Super 8 movie after another and loved it.  Since graduating CalArts in 1984, I've been lucky to make my living in the animation business, but I've continued to make short films on the side, purely for the fun of it.  A few years back, a short documentary I made about a toy collector in Torrance, California was selected to screen in a couple of film festivals, which was a kick.

For my next project I decided I would write a narrative film.  I was trying to come up with an interesting character and unusual story.  I was feeling stuck.  Then I saw a Baby Banana singing with his Mama Duck and Daddy Gorilla accompanied on a pink guitar by a four foot ten cartoon star named Debi Derryberry in pursuit of fame and fortune.  Uh, I no longer felt I needed to make anything up.

Quasimodo, The Riddler, and Me on a Fire Escape

One thing I love about our business is getting to work with stars of my childhood.  In 1998, it was Frank Gorshin, one of the greatest impressionists of an era chock-a-block with them.  His three impressions of Kirk Douglas - young, middle aged, and old - in The Big Story are sublime.  And of course, he is the only Riddler that counts.

I was coming off Redux Riding Hood and looking for a project.  Sharon Morrill, my boss at Disney TVA, was having trouble with the reels of Hunchback 2 - one of those wretched cash cow direct-to-video sequels.  The script was a paint by numbers dog, the songs Irving Cohen rejects.  But Sharon let me do Redux, she was in a jam, and I'm a loyal sap.  I dove into the Seine after Quasimodo, or in this case, the not quite Seine.

They wanted to recast the villain with a comic actor, someone who could inject some humor into the role.  I suggested Frank Gorshin, and was soon on a jet to New York to record him.  How many times did I see Frank Gorshin on Batman, or The Mike Douglas Show?  And now here he was, waiting for me in an old Manhattan office building.  He shook my hand, and started a conversation, but interrupted himself  "Can I smoke in here?" he asked.

"Balcony." someone said.

Frank invited me to join him, and we walked down a short hallway.  He opened a metal fire door to the 'balcony' - a wrought iron fire escape fifty two stories up. We stepped out, just enough room for two people once you shut the door.   Frank lit up, and there I was, that little kid watching Batman on the floor of the TV room, standing toe to toe, literally, with The Riddler on a rusty fire escape 520 feet above Manhattan. 

Making small talk under these circumstances was a bit challenging.  I remember thinking, "What if he pushed me off this fire escape?"  I knew he wouldn't do it.  Probably not anyway.  But what if he did?  Or what if the wrought iron gave way?  I wonder where we'd land? If someone throws this door open, it could knock me right off.  Oh shit, I'm not saying anything.  Say something.  Don't talk about the Riddler, he might hate that, then you'll have a pissed off Riddler standing close enough to bite your nose off.  He probably wouldn't do that, but just don't mention The Riddler.    

"I used to watch you in The Kopycats." I said, pulling one out of me arse.  His face lit up.  He loved doing that show, though it was only on for one season.  He seemed happy that someone remembered.  Just as we were bonding the door opened, whacking me square in the back.  If not for the monkey grip I had on the rail, this story would have a different ending.  And a different author.  A woman behind the door apologized for nearly killing me and told us they were ready to start the session.

Frank delivered, but Sharon and her toadies were less thrilled.  They somehow thought  he could take their straight, dull, stock villain dialog and create a character as memorable as The Riddler.  When I reminded them that there was: A) No humor in the character as written, and B) Only one four hour recording session to do all his dialog,  I only succeeded in antagonizing them.

Ultimately, Uberboss Eisner's beef was not with Gorshin's performance.  He didn't like the story and didn't like the songs.  Who was to blame?  The guy not invited to the meeting: me.  It wasn't The Riddler who shoved me off the fire escape, it was Quasimodo.

-Steve

Gorshin voices three Kirk Douglas-es in David Toten and Tim Watts' BAFTA winning The Big Story.
A pencil test of the short is below....

How I Pissed Off June Foray

I love June Foray.  With her versatile voice work on so many legendary cartoon characters - Rocky the Squirrel, Natasha Fatale, Witch Hazel, Tweety's Granny - she is one of the last of my childhood idols still around.  I've been lucky enough to work with her twice.  The second time, I really pissed her off.

I was directing a Fractured Fairy Tales short for Universal called The Phox, the Box, & the Lox, from a lost script by the late Bill Scott, writer for the original series (and voice actor!).  It would run before the Dudley Do-Right live action feature.  June was the last survivor of the original cast, and I was thrilled to get to work with her again, having had such a great time recording her on my short Redux Riding Hood.  I even padded her part a bit.

Just as Jay Ward had done in his day, we recorded the voices in an ensemble.  The voice actors sat in the recording room together and ran through the script like a radio show. Keith Scott was amazing.  He's a Jay Ward expert who can do many of the voices spot-on.  When I asked for a Phil Silvers-type of voice for the Phox, Keith asked, "Do you want Bill Scott's Silvers or Daws Butler's Silvers?"  He then proceeded to give me a sample of both men's versions of Phil Silvers - as astounding as it is geeky.  June was set to do the Milk Maiden character in her Brooklyn voice.  She told me she did that voice for all the damsels and princesses in the Fractured Fairy Tales back in the '60's.  She got no argument from me.  She's June!

We all had a great deal of fun, though I immediately noticed a big problem:  June's Brooklyn voice had a lot of gravel in it.  The truth of the matter was, she sounded old when doing this voice. She was 79 at the time and could not be expected to sound like a 16 year old milk maiden from Brooklyn.  So here was my dilemna: how do I tell her to do a different voice in front of the ensemble cast without embarrassing one of my idols?  She would surely want to know why.  What could I say - you sound too old?  I couldn't do it.  So I stuck my head in the sand and hoped we could fix it in editorial.

Sound editor Mike Gollum tried every trick available in 1999 technology to make the Milk Maid sound young.  He knocked off about forty years, but she still sounded too old for the character.  I thought maybe it would grown on me, maybe I was just too close to it and the track would work.  Then my boss, Tom Ruzicka, told me I had to dump June.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!" I shouted, inexplicably in slo-motion, "June is the only surviving member of the original cast!  We CAN"T dump her!"  I pounded my head on Tom's desk until he relented.

"Okay, okay!" Tom said, "But you'll have to re-record her immediately.  If we (the mucky-mucks) don't like it, we recast."

The next morning, June was back at the recording studio.  She was professional, but NOT happy.  "Who sets up a recording session for 9AM?"  She said, like that was an ungodly hour.

""Uhhh, that's my fault."  I told June, sheepishly. I was surprisingly intimidated by this tiny woman.  I hemmed and hawed about our tight schedule and apologized like an amateur.  Keith Scott had returned to do some pick-up lines and explained to me the whole "being in good voice" thing, and how hard it was to be in good voice first thing in the morning.

Then June said, "Why am I here? I thought you liked what I did last time."  She may as well have stabbed me in the heart.  I felt sick.

I felt even sicker as I heard this bullshit come out of my mouth,  "Well, I did like it.  But one of the executives doesn't like the Brooklyn accent."

June looked hurt, "But I did that voice for ALL the Fractured Fairy Tales.  ALL of them."

"I know.  But these executives.....they don't care."  Now THAT"S the truth!

June shook her head, got in the booth and gave us her 'sweet' voice.  She was done in minutes.  I gave her almost no direction, and I think she was happy about that.  She came out of the booth in a much more jovial mood.  I thanked her, apologized again, and groveled like Boris Badenov to Fearless Leader.

Her 'sweet' voice, though not as funny as the Brooklyn voice, sounded young enough to satisfy the mucky-mucks.  In hindsight, I wish I had redesigned the Milk Maid to look older, more worldly; like she'd already had a few husbands and was looking for a new sugar daddy.  Then I could have used the Brooklyn voice.  That would have been much funnier.  Damn!  Why didn't I think of that in 1999?  I was too busy freaking out, I guess.

I've seen and spoken to June a few times times then, and she's always been super kind, never mentioning that early morning session.  Her 95th birthday was this week.  It's great to still have a childhood hero around.  And I'm still sorry I pissed her off.

-Steve