6.9/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. You Gotta Be a Football Hero remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have got six minutes and a soft spot for pre-war cartoon violence, yes, this is absolutely worth your time. Classic animation nerds will love the weird rubbery physics, but if you can't stand the repetitive Popeye-Olive-Bluto love triangle formula, you will probably hate it.
The setup is exactly what you expect. Bluto is being a giant jerk on the football field, and Olive Oyl is swooning over him like he is the only man left on earth.
Honestly, Olive's shifting loyalties in these old shorts always makes me laugh. One second she is all over Bluto, the next she is screaming for Popeye because Bluto stepped on her toe or something.
The actual football game is just pure madness. Rules do not exist here.
At one point, Bluto basically tackles the entire opposing team at once. It is like watching a bulldozer with a mustache run over a bunch of bowling pins.
"I don't know much about football, but I'm pretty sure you aren't allowed to literally bury the quarterback in the dirt."
I love the tiny, cheap details in these Fleischer cartoons. The grass looks like it was drawn by someone who had only heard of lawns but never actually seen one in real life.
And the sound design is so delightfully crunchy. William Costello's grunts as Popeye are so scratchy they sound like a garbage disposal eating a metal fork.
If you have seen early stuff like Alice's Little Parade, you know how weird early animation could get. But the Fleischer brothers had this specific, greasy urban energy that nobody else could touch.
Anyway, Popeye finally gets on the field because he is tired of sitting on the bench looking sad. His pipe is drooping so low in one scene it almost touches his knees. 😭
The spinach transition is great because he doesn't just get strong. His muscles literally turn into steam engines, complete with little pistons pumping up and down.
It is incredibly dumb, but it works every single time.
Also, can we talk about how Bluto's jersey number is just a giant question mark? That is peak character design right there.
The ending is super abrupt, like someone just pulled the plug on the projector because they ran out of film.
But hey, that is 1930s shorts for you.

IMDb —
1922
Community
Log in to comment.