chaotic neutral, looney good

wile e. coyote and the infinitude of defeat

The coyote lives a cursed existence. The laws of time and space will bend, even break, so that he always fails. It is as if every speck of his universe — even God himself, conspires against him. He is trapped like a fly in amber within an infinitude of defeat. And we laugh.

— Skylar Higley

The golden-era animations of Looney Tunes (1944~) do not hinge on the traditional trajectories of story—classically driven by the moral conflict of hero vs. villain—instead, one must simply understand nature’s schism between predator and prey. 

Tom and Jerry. Sylvester and Tweetie. Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner. Elmer Fudd and Bugs Bunny. the schadenfreudian joy we derive from their tête-à-têtes relies squarely on the predator—craving flesh and innately vicious—receiving a subverted comeuppance for their naturally violent instincts in the most absurd way imaginable.

Of course, we could project a moral view-foil onto the predator/prey paradigm. “what’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.” however The Lion King (1994) taught us early how circular life is in the wild—the animal kingdom is the original playground where the game is the game.

There’s little sense that Wile E. or Sylvester or Tom are inherently evil.

For Wile E. in particular, there is more determinedness in his demeanour than malice. Poke deeper and you find someone more tragic—enslavement to his biological cravings yet doomed by the oddball cause/effect of his bizarre universe.

This ACME universe bestows upon its prey a wild-card—a supernatural serendipity to destabilise the established natural order—that typically manifest in the form of (hyper) intelligence. Bugs Bunny’s intrepid wit often confounds his rogues gallery (plus, he’s like, dexterous enough to play Franz Liszt's Second Hungarian Rhapsody on a goddamn concert piano). Tweety’s intelligence allows his speech to careen through the fourth wall. Jerry is a hyper-cunning, quick-thinking opportunist.

Roadrunner deviates from this standard.

Sure, he’s quick on his feet but Roadrunner is not nearly as self-aware as his prey-in-arms. The wild-card granted him is essentially just speed and divine luck. If, as Skylar Higley purports, the universe (and god himself) are conspiring against Wile E. Coyote then by proxy it is working in service of Roadrunner—who has no conceivable whims beyond running, never speeds to any destination in particular, unwaveringly satisfied by the simplicity of his purposelessness as the universe makes itself a treadmill under his feet.

Perhaps, the reason why it’s difficult to assign morality to the Looney Tunes predators and prey is as banal as the fact that, when faced with a greater threat, they put their differences aside and banded together to stop the Martian Monstars in Space Jam (1996). Or perhaps it’s just noticing that underneath all the comically outlandish failures of Wile E. Coyote, there is an admirable creature of impressive fortitude, persisting in service of his singular desire despite knowing that the laws of physics can (and will) contort to foil and mock him at any given moment. He’s devoted to his appetite regardless—willing to try endlessly, conjure harebrained schemes endlessly, entertain his endless wellspring of creativity and ultimately, fail endlessly. Wile E. Coyote can only brave this gruelling “infinitude of defeat” by embodying a perpetual state of hope. Whether he’s thwarted by reality-bending murals of his own painting or plummeting from fatal, alpine heights—he simply shakes it off and tries something else. And I gotta say, as an artist, that kind of crazy is inspiring.