Pan out to
reveal a
brand new
sub-genre.
The dom
inant gene
is a shriek-
fest? Nay,
that old
nag’s as
overdone
as shark
tanks.
“Gallop,
trot, trot,
gallop,”
shot the
mad red
fox to the
tune of a
million
thrills.
The sheep
dog, in a
star turn,
loses her
cows,
who’ve
all gone
too low.
The
one
who
talks in
black and
white’s no
Mister Ed.
What an
animal!
He spooks
the goose
(a starry-
eyed
guest
star)
while
wolf
ing
hay
behind
the serv
ant’s quar
ters. This
plot twist
has the
whole
flick
flip on
itself,
and
what
a cosmic
relief
(this
Techni
color is
no talkie
after all)!
Ed whinnies,
shivering
with glee –
he’s
such an
equine
ham.
Things
turn all
tragicomic
in the end,
however.
The gaffe?
Our crew
had let
an uptight
critic in
who’d
quite
redfacedly
penned a
vitricolic
review. And,
boy, did that
pan leave
our mixed-
up flick a
