6.1/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.1/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Pups' Picnic remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have about ten minutes and a strange craving for early animation chaos, sure. It’s light, it’s loud, and it’s completely unnecessary in the best way possible. If you’re looking for a plot that makes sense, or you just really hate dogs, stay away. This is for people who like their cartoons to feel like they were written by someone who had way too much coffee.
The whole thing starts with a picnic. You know the drill. A lady is setting out sandwiches and a turkey, and the puppies are doing that annoying thing where they try to steal everything. The black puppy is clearly the 'bad' one because he gets caught, but the brown one is just a tiny sociopath who knows how to hide his tracks.
Then, suddenly, there’s a fox hunt. Because of course there is.
The pacing is honestly a bit manic. One minute we’re looking at a roast turkey, and the next we’re watching horses gallop through the woods like they’re being chased by the devil himself. The puppies are faster than the horses, which is just cartoon physics doing its thing, I guess. At one point, a bloodhound does this weird Tarzan-style swing through the trees that made me laugh out loud. It’s so dumb, but I loved it.
It reminded me a bit of the frantic energy in Dogs of War!, though this is definitely more low-stakes. There’s no war here, just a lot of running and a fox that’s probably the smartest character in the entire film.
The ending. The fox just hitches a ride on the spare tire of the car. He’s just chilling there while everyone drives off. It’s such a bizarre, abrupt way to wrap things up. It’s like the animators just got tired and decided, 'Yeah, he lives on the car now.'
The background art is simple, almost like a coloring book page that came to life. It’s not trying to be Svengali, and that’s a good thing. It’s just a breezy little doodle of a film.
It’s not high art. It’s not even trying to be. It’s just a weird, little relic that feels like someone’s fever dream from 1936. I’m into it. 🐾