Schirmer Encyclopedia of Film

Animal Actors
Book and Candle (1958); the snarky black raven confederate
of Julius Kelp in The Nutty Professor (Jerry Lewis,
1963); the two caged lovebirds around whom
Hitchcock’s The Birds swirl and flutter; the rats Ben
and Socrates (trained by Moe and Nora Di Sesso) in
Willard (1971); the homesick humpback whales in Star
Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986); the domesticated
rabbit that gets cooked in Fatal Attraction (1987); the
killer poodle in Hulk (2003). In the musical Summer
Stock (1950), a mixed-breed chorus of singing dogs backs
up Gene Kelly and Phil Silvers in ‘‘Heavenly Music.’’ In
AVP: Alien vs. Predator (2004), a penguin does a walkon,
first as a potentially lurking, alien presence and then
as its actual benign self.
Bart the Bear (1977–2000) was a genuine screen
personality. He staunchly antagonized Anthony Hopkins
and Alec Baldwin in The Edge (1997) and appeared as
‘‘the bear’’ in ten other films: Windwalker (1980), The
Clan of the Cave Bear (1986), The Great Outdoors (1988),
L’Ours (1988), White Fang (1991), The Giant of Thunder
Mountain (1991), On Deadly Ground (1994), Legends of
the Fall (1994), Walking Thunder (1997), and Meet the
Deedles (1998). A better comedian than Bart is the horse
who gets knocked cold by a punch in the teeth in Blazing
Saddles (Mel Brooks, 1974). In L’Atalante ( Jean Vigo,
1934), a pregnant cat drops a litter early in the film, and
as the story sails on, the kittens attach themselves to
virtually all the characters and every object that can be
pounced or cuddled upon. In Le Grand bleu (The Big
Blue, Luc Besson, 1988), a dolphin plays a deeply affecting
and ethereal magical role, luring a heroic competitive
diver to an undersea afterlife.
In the concluding sequence of Umberto D (Vittorio
De Sica, 1952), a particularly affecting and variegated
supporting performance is given by a fox terrier. Signior
Umberto Ferrari (Carlo Battisti), the aging protagonist,
has moved out of his lodgings with his dog, Flaik, under
his arm. Lonely and facing death, Umberto rides the
streetcar to an isolated district where he tries to convince
a man and his wife to take the dog. Flaik is afraid of
them, so Umberto moves on to a park at the edge of the
city. Here, a little girl wants to take the dog but is
forbidden to by her nursemaid. Umberto sneaks away,
hiding just outside the park, but soon the dog comes
trundling out, sniffs around, and finds his master. There
seems no choice but suicide for them both. Umberto
brings Flaik to a railway crossing and holds him in his
arms as a train swiftly approaches. The dog whines in
abject terror. Suddenly he flies off as the train whistles
past. ‘‘Flaik!’’ cries the old man. By now, the dog is
standing several yards away, and when Umberto walks
up to him, Flaik retreats into the park. The camera views
him now from ground level, a tiny waif among massive
trees, terrified of the man who wanted to kill him. It
takes several moments, with Umberto begging pathetically
and urgently, before the dog finally relents and the
two disappear together among the trees, friends again.
Umberto holds up a pine cone and the loyal Flaik leaps
in musical rhythm to snatch it.
Animal extras have populated many films, most typically
as herds of cattle or buffalo (as in Dances with
Wolves [1990]) or as horse teams who pull the Stagecoach
(1939) or bear the weight of sheriff ’s posses, robbers
(The Great Train Robbery [1904]), or whooping Indians
(The Searchers [1956]). The stunt man Yakima Canutt’s
facility in working with equine extras to produce spectacular
tumbles in fast chases is legendary. In Far from the
Madding Crowd (1967), sheep come down with a mysterious
belly-bloating condition. Elephants bear important
human characters in ceremonial processions in both
Around the World in 80 Days (1956) and The Greatest
Show on Earth (1952), the latter boasting a bevy of circus
animals including, in bit roles, a terrier attached to
Buttons ( James Stewart) and an elephant so trusted by
Angel (Gloria Grahame) that she places her face beneath
its foot.
Unquestionably the most realistic performance given
by an animal onscreen belongs to Mike the Dog as the
neurotic border collie Matisse in the hilarious Down and
Out in Beverly Hills (Paul Mazursky, 1986). Pampered,
all-comprehending, drooping with self-hatred, but always
happy to be on show—and far beyond the help of his
expensive canine psychiatrist—this animal is the ultimate
denizen of Hollywood.
SEE ALSO Nature Films
FURTHER READING
American Humane Association Web site. http://www.ahafilm.org
(accessed 28 November 2005).
Baker, Steve. Picturing the Beast: Animals, Identity, and
Representation. Champaign/Urbana: University of Illinois
Press, 2001.
Burt, Jonathan. Animals in Film. London: Reaktion Books, 2002.
Chris, Cynthia. Watching Wildlife. Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 2006.
Eyman, Scott. The Speed of Sound: Hollywood and the Talkie
Revolution, 1926–1930. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1997,
and Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999.
Lippit, Akira Mizuta. Electric Animal: Toward a Rhetoric of
Wildlife. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2000.
McCarthy, Todd. Howard Hawks: The Grey Fox of Hollywood.
New York: Grove Press, 1997.
Wolfe, Cary, ed. Zoontologies: The Question of the Animal.
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2003.
Murray Pomerance
84 SCHIRMER ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FILM