Max Removing The Original Looney Tunes Shorts Is An Act Of Cultural Vandalism

It’s a day ending in “y,” which means David Zaslav has found a new way to trash Warner Bros.’ proud 102-year history. This time, according to DeadlineZaslav and WB has made the unconscionable decision to delete the entire 1930-1969 run of Looney Tunes shorts from the Warner Bros. Discovery streaming service, Max. It’s all gone, folks.

Since merging his reality-show-laden garbage heap of a network with the studio that’s given movie lovers the world over a century of celluloid joy, Zaslav has exhibited a bizarre hostility towards what should be his corporation’s crown jewel. He’s permanently shelved finished films like “Batgirl,” engaged in a petty slash-and-burn of Turner Classic Movies that hobbled (but thankfully did not kill) the cherished cable curator of cinema history, and unceremoniously wiped out loads of Cartoon Network programming without informing the shows’ creators ahead of time.

Two years ago, Zaslav seemed to have Looney Tunes in his crosshairs when the Looney Tunes catalogue turned up on a list of titles due to leave Max. (The streamer later said the shorts had been listed by mistake.) This came on the heels of WB consigning the live-action/animated feature “Coyote vs. Acme” to the vault, meaning hundreds of folks worked on a completed film that will never be screened or streamed. It goes without saying that this is incredibly disrespectful to talent, which may be why WB has had to overspend to lock in buzzy filmmakers like Ryan Coogler, Paul Thomas Anderson, and Maggie Gyllenhaal.

With WB heading into an uncertain summer where it’s not hyperbole to say the future of the studio hinges on the success of James Gunn’s “Superman,” the stench of desperation has been wafting off the big house on Barham Boulevard. This would appear to be the perfect time to lean into the studio’s deep library of enduring classics, but Zaslav would rather torch the legacy of Looney Tunes. What’s this dude’s damage?

Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Elmer Fudd, Wile E. Coyote, the Road Runner, and countless other animated characters are an essential part of our pop cultural fabric. Aside from being created and drawn by some of the greatest talents in the history of the medium (e.g. Chuck Jones, Friz Freeling, Tex Avery, Frank Tashlin, and Bob Clampett), these cartoons have taught multiple generations the importance of satire and blissful irreverence. These agents of comedic anarchy prepared us at a very young age for the subversion of the Marx Brothers, Mad Magazine, and National Lampoon.

Perhaps most importantly for the studio, they introduced us to vintage movies in the company’s library by spoofing the likes of Errol Flynn, Peter Lorre, and Humphrey Bogart. Flynn’s appearance at the end of Chuck Jones’ “Rabbit Hood” via a live-action clip from “The Adventures of Robin Hood” made me seek out the classic WB flick, which is now one of my all-time favorite movies despite having been made 35 years before I was born. And there was nothing creepily synergistic about this because a) it’s a great gag, and b) when I saw it for the first time in the late 1970s, there was nothing tangible to sell. No video tapes, no wide repertory releases … just the off-chance that I’d catch it on the afternoon movie one day.

Why would Zaslav suddenly remove 39 years’ worth of classic, award-winning cartoons that have bolstered his company’s brand since the prohibition era while teaching kids that there can be a sophistication to silliness?

Aside from his disastrous appearance at the 2023 TCM Classic Film Festival, where, among other gaffes, he expressed his dedication to preserving WB’s film library by celebrating a movie made by another studio (20th Century Fox’s “Gentleman’s Agreement”), Zaslav has exhibited very little interest in doing anything other than ensuring that the company’s movies are given treatment equal on Max to the reality dreck churned out by Discovery. Before Zaslav got his mitts on Max (formerly HBO Max), the streamer thoughtfully curated WB’s ridiculously deep library; the big titles were always out front, but there was a clear, intentionally laid path to lesser known movies, should subscribers want to go exploring.

And to every cinephile’s utter delight, there were the Looney Tunes cartoons we grew up watching in syndication. At any moment, if I needed a quick smile, I could call up “What’s Opera, Doc?,” “Bugs and Thugs,” and “One Froggy Evening.” Parents could share the timeless brilliance of these cartoons with their children, while the shorts themselves have lost none of their gut-busting power. It was all there, and why wouldn’t it be? Max is Warner Bros.’ own damn streaming service. Those cartoons should be permanent fixtures, and it should be a fireable offense to even consider removing them.

As it currently stands, if you want to watch classic Looney Tunes, your only option is physical media. Warner Bros. Discovery says this is because children’s entertainment doesn’t drive subscriptions (it gave the same excuse for nuking “Sesame Street”), which is obviously a lie given that a good chunk of the new Looney Tunes cartoons, much of which is explicitly aimed at children, is still streaming. That the library was removed the same weekend “The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie” was released to theaters by independent distributor Ketchup Entertainment reeks of trademark Zaslav pettiness. The man has no business running Warner Bros. Where’s an Acme anvil when you need one?