When Good Toons Go Bad: Revisiting Gay Purr-ee Through the Lens of Animation Villainy
Every so often, you get news that makes your stomach drop for a split second.
A few years back, I was talking with Phillip Graffham from Van Eaton Galleries when he casually mentioned that someone had written an article about my work. For about five seconds, my mind went to all the worst places — Is this a takedown? A critique? A warning about how my art single-handedly set animation back a century?
Thankfully, it was none of those things.
Instead, it was a reminder of why animation history — especially its stranger, lesser-known corners — continues to matter.
Creating a Piece for When Good Toons Go Bad
I had been invited to participate in When Good Toons Go Bad: Villains of Animation, a group exhibition at Van Eaton Galleries that brought together 100 artists, each tasked with creating an original piece inspired by an animated villain.
There were no restrictions. No limits. No guardrails.
Which sounds freeing… until you actually have to choose one villain from the entire history of animation.
That open-ended freedom became the challenge.
Rather than going with an obvious or overused character, I started thinking about animated films that made a lasting impression on me as a kid — the ones that didn’t always show up on “best of” lists but lingered in memory anyway.
That’s when Gay Purr-ee came back to me.
Why Gay Purr-ee?
Released in 1962, Gay Purr-ee is a beautifully odd animated feature produced by UPA, featuring the voices of Judy Garland, Robert Goulet, and legendary voice actor Paul Frees. It’s one of those films that feels both whimsical and strangely sophisticated, visually and tonally different from what most audiences associate with classic American animation.
The villain, Meowrice, stood out immediately.
He wasn’t just sinister — he was theatrical, manipulative, charming in that unsettling way only animated villains from that era could be. And most importantly, he felt overlooked.
That made him perfect.
Building the Artwork
Reference material was limited. A few stills from the film. A handful of YouTube clips. That was it.
From there, I worked toward a composition that honored the spirit of Gay Purr-ee while still allowing room for my own voice as an artist. I didn’t want it to feel like a direct copy or homage for nostalgia’s sake. I wanted it to feel like a conversation between eras — classic animation filtered through a contemporary lens.
The result became Meowrice Makes His Move on Mewsette.
It was familiar, but not safe. Playful, but with an edge. Exactly the balance I was hoping for.
The Night of the Show
Ironically, I didn’t get to fully experience the opening reception.
That same evening, I had to attend a stage production of Into the Woods at Pepperdine University, which meant I stopped by the gallery before the event began and missed the actual reception.
That absence is what led to the blog post Phillip mentioned.
Kristine Bustamante — an artist, writer, and animation professional who works on Family Guy — wrote about the show, the artwork, and the opening night experience on her blog. She also contributed a pair of fantastic paintings featuring characters from Cats Don’t Dance, making her perspective especially meaningful.
Seeing my piece discussed through someone else’s eyes was both surreal and gratifying.
A Brief (and Wild) Bit of Animation History
Gay Purr-ee holds an unusual place in animation history.
It’s widely understood that the film’s production ultimately led to Chuck Jones being fired from Warner Bros. — only for Warner Bros. to later distribute Gay Purr-ee upon its original release.
Animation history is full of contradictions like that.
And that’s part of what makes it endlessly fascinating.
Why These Stories Still Matter
Shows like When Good Toons Go Bad remind us that animation isn’t just about heroes, mascots, or childhood comfort. Villains — especially the strange, forgotten, or underappreciated ones — often carry the most interesting creative risks of their time.
Revisiting them isn’t about nostalgia alone. It’s about recognizing how much experimentation, personality, and boldness existed in eras we sometimes oversimplify.
Sometimes, looking backward is the best way to remember why animation keeps moving forward.
