Bingo Crosbyana: A Very Strange Fly

Is this thing for you?

If you enjoy the absolute weirdness of 1930s animation, you might find this charming. If you are looking for a coherent story or just hate the idea of a singing insect impersonating a Hollywood icon, you should probably stay far, far away.

Honestly, watching Bingo Crosbyana feels like catching a fever dream on a Saturday morning. The whole premise—Bing Crosby, but he’s a housefly—is one of those ideas that could only exist in a world where animators were allowed to go completely off the rails.

The musical numbers are surprisingly catchy, even if the animation makes the insects look a little bit... terrifying when they get close to the camera. It has that bouncy, rhythmic energy you see in films like Flips and Flops, though it feels way more specific in its target.

There’s a moment where the 'Crosby fly' is wooing the other bugs, and the level of detail on his little fly-eyes is just unsettling. It's a weird choice to make him so identifiable. Why did they give the fly a hat? I don’t know.

The vibe check

• The singing is actually pretty decent for a bug.
• The background art is way better than it had any right to be.
• The whole thing is about seven minutes of pure, unadulterated nonsense.

It’s not as polished as a big-budget studio project from later years. You can tell they were just having fun with the concept. Some frames look like they were rushed, while others have this weirdly beautiful depth to them that I didn't expect.

It’s definitely not a masterpiece. It's not trying to be. It’s just a fly singing, and sometimes, that’s just enough to keep you watching until the credits roll. 🪰

Compared to something like Our Hospitality, it feels like a completely different universe of storytelling. There’s no weight here, just vibes and buzzes.

I caught myself nodding along to the music despite how silly the visual was. Maybe that's the point? It’s not trying to change your life. It just wants you to watch a fly with a microphone for a bit.

The ending comes out of nowhere, too. No buildup, just *poof*, story over. It’s a very 1936 way of wrapping things up. I didn't hate it.