Ralph Bakshi is renowned for The Lord of the Rings, revered for Wizards and infamous for Fritz the Cat. Yet, none of these films can be called his masterpiece, which is reserved strictly and without any hesitation for Coonskin, his magnum opus, a film of such undeniable brilliance, its relative obscurity (salvaged only by its growing cult status) seems like a tragedy. A film of unflinching honesty and relentless humour, it is a provocative piece of postmodern social commentary (it proudly carries the warning of “this film will offend everyone”) that takes absolutely no prisoners in the director’s quest to satirize an entire social system in the way only someone with the unlimited imagination and demented sense of humour of Ralph Bakshi could effectively pull off without causing too much trouble along the way, with the exception of ruffling a few feathers of the very people this film takes umbrage against. Coonskin is a film that may very easily be dismissed as a lot of things – one could call it half-baked satire, others just an attempt to imbue a cartoon with warped vulgarity as a rebellious move against the omnipotent Disney. One could even say its just a needless attempt to stir controversy – Coonskin certainly is the loudest student in the class, never once settling down and relishing in its ability, or rather its fundamental right, to make noise – but it’s all worthwhile, because its necessary noise, a noise that carries sincerity, honesty and a bleak reality that makes this film not only a brilliant dark comedy, but one of the most bleak films about racism ever committed to film, questioning the very social structures that put certain groups against each other, developing into a truly essential work of American fiction.

There are two stories told throughout Coonskin. The first is of two convicts (Philip Michael Thomas and Scatman Crothers) escaping from prison, and waiting along the walls for their friends (Barry White and Charles Gordone) to come and retrieve them and take them to safety, as both men ardently defend the fact that they were falsely imprisoned. These live-action sequences only serve as a framing device for the other story, told in animation, relaying the tale of Brother Rabbit (Thomas), a young black man (well, technically a rabbit) who has been forced out of his Southern home  by greed and corruption, alongside his two closest friends, Brother Bear (White) and Preacher Fox (Gordone), and decide to take up residence in Harlem, amongst people who understand them and can empathize with them. Upon their arrival, they find that even this place has been a victim to corruption, with crooked individuals running the region without any shame. Realizing that joining them is easier than going against them, our protagonists descend into a life of crime, with Brother Rabbit going from the naive newcomer in town to the most vicious crime lord in all of Harlem, who is constantly targetting various malicious individuals such as racist cops, crooked politicians and violent gangsters that in turn seek to bring him down for his intense control over the city. It turns out Harlem is only big enough for one vicious syndicate, and our protagonist is certainly not going down without a fight.

We’ll cut right to the point and talk about the quality that has often made Coonskin amongst the most controversial films of the 1970s, and certainly one of the most infamous animated films of all time. As evident from the title, this is not a film that endeavours to be anything close to politically correct in any way – Bakshi made it very clear that he had absolutely no interest in pandering to any specific agenda, going after every group he can, making use of his signature visual style of portraying characters as anthropomorphic animals (no doubt influenced by the dominance of Disney at the time) and having them engage in only the most sordid of activities. Despite the director’s many talents, one can never ignore the fact that his career has always been dominated by controversy due to his representation of marginalized groups, often reducing them to stereotypes and playing off popular perceptions rather than anything discernibly real. The difference though is that Bakshi does not appear to be racist, because that would imply prejudice to a specific group, which is certainly not the case in Coonskin, where he goes after absolutely everyone – no one is safe from his acidic attacks: no matter your race, gender or sexual orientation, there is always something in Coonskin to offend you. The director takes aim at every group imaginable, deriding them with a blend of blatant disrespect and unquestionably potent humour that relies less on intricate minutiae, and more on overt stereotypes that feel torn directly from the pages of the most vitriolic pieces of propaganda ever produced. There is very little doubt about it – Coonskin is not for the faint of heart, and it’s status as a controversial film, while sometimes unnecessary, is entirely warranted, and precisely why it is such a brilliant film.

Having said this, why is Coonskin such a masterpiece, especially if it so openly goes against common human decency by deriding every group, especially the ones that are most marginalized? Its because in addition to being one of the great animators of our time, Ralph Bakshi is one of the finest satirists, someone whose effortless ability to comment on society in all its macabre vulgarity is second to none. His methods are not subtle, and they are hardly even admirable in any traditional way, nor can they be condoned as being something that should be replicated. He navigates a very fine line between biting satire and grotesque racism, but no matter how offensive it may get, Coonskin never loses its morality. Its imagery may be shocking, and quite frankly beyond rude, but despite everything, it never feels mean-spirited, nor does it ever have the atmosphere of being made by someone who actually believes in these stereotypes. Bakshi doesn’t use the controversial subject matter of this film to deride those he represents – quite the contrary. He uses stereotype not as a way of commenting on those in society, but the institutions that have so potently crafted society into being composed of essentially a series of stereotypes. This is where the effectiveness of Coonskin comes in – it takes the artistic right to freedom of expression to new heights, daring to offend in a way that is profoundly shocking, but nonetheless fascinating, because through dividing, he somehow unites, making a poignant statement on the dire state of the world.

This is by no means a defence of racist stereotypes, nor is it any way of justifying any work of art that seeks to offend. However, despite its controversial subject matter, we can’t ignore the fact that Coonskin has a clear message that it imparts without even an iota of hesitation: race relations in America are at all-time low, a grotesque peak that has been ongoing in various forms for just about as long as it has been occupied by colonial forces. Racism takes many forms, and Bakshi’s statement in Coonskin, while quite potent, is not one that restrains itself: just like every act of cruelty and bias that came before it in history, the institutionalized racism of different groups is an undeniably oppressive force, which seeks to divide in a nation that ultimately just wants to come together, and would had there not been a culture of compartmentalizing people into different groups based entirely on virtue of their race. For a country that considers itself the most powerful nation on earth, the USA is remarkably inadept at practising equality, at least for the most part – but no matter what progress is made, hate is still omnipresent by certain groups that just refuse any attempt at cultural cohesion. Things have changed since the 1970s, which mercifully allows the commentary in Coonskin to feel somewhat archaic, but not enough that this is a film that has aged poorly – the fact that this film still feels resonant, vibrant and fresh is both a merit and a shortcoming: the former because its made by one of the greatest animators of all time who was at the very peak of his creativity, the latter because it shows how these problems still plague the country, and the world to an extent, which makes watching this film exceptionally difficult, because it still feels so current.

There is so much unforgettable social commentary in this film, which makes it such a powerful experience. Bakshi dares us to laugh at the most harrowing of content. Whether it be the image of a gluttonous Italian-American mobster residing in the depths of the New York subway system, or the recurring motif of a well-endowed woman (named Miss America) going around seducing arbitrary black men because viciously murdering them, or the conclusion of the film, where unarmed African-American men are gunned down in a manner that can only be described as slapstick, this is a horrifyingly real film, delivered as a subversive animated comedy that seems to be daring and outrageous on the surface, making full use of its irreverence to market itself to a specific demographic (this film was certainly not made for the mainstream – it very much feels directly aligned with the sensibilities of the youths who rebelled against society through punk rock and underground Comix during the era), but sneakily pervading into the broader psyche of a divided society. Coonskin is a film that dares the audience not only to laugh at these troubling situations, but to open their eyes to issues much wider than ourselves, and to question society and its practices. This is a powerful film – its not a particularly pleasant film, and it often relies too much on shock value to make its statements, but despite being quite unsettling in many circumstances, its a brilliant work of satire, an audacious and frankly courageous look at bigotry, institutionalized prejudice and hatred in a way that may not be particularly dramatic, nor especially heavy-handed, but is no less effective. When the dizzying imagery and the irreverent humour fade, all that will remain is the bleak message at the core of the film, and we need to ask ourselves: wasn’t that the point all along?