The real Rupert...

Is it just me or is there something not quite right about Rupert the Bear? I’m not talking about his appalling dress sense, or the fact that back when he was bear coloured, before undergoing the Michael Jackson treatment and becoming white, he actually did look very bear-like despite the yellow checked trews. Yes, there’s something vaguely sinister about Rupert and the company he keeps.

Take a look at the scene above. At first it looks like an everyday scene of a human bear thing pulling a sleigh with a small black and white dog on it. Nothing strange in that, just pop down the wood the next time we have snow and you’ll see what I mean. But look closer, closer still and it all goes a bit surreal, as surreal as any painting by Bosch or Dali. This isn’t a children’s illustration, this is a vision of somewhere else, and a very dark somewhere at that.

Do you see the black crow of death at the top of the picture, and what’s that swinging from that branch – a monkey dressed as a Dutch boy? A pig, a rabbit, and a badger in smoking jackets and minstrel trousers climb the hill, whilst a naked Siamese and equally undressed brown dog look dumbly on. Small statue-like children watch the scene unfold, their faces stern as if in trance. Have they been mesmerised? And why is that girl in yellow smiling in that hysterical fashion? Is that a grimace of fear or the smile of lunacy? Maybe it’s just too much for her to take in and keep her sanity… or maybe she’s Rupert’s winter sacrifice.

A miniature cowboy sits in the fork of a tree wearing high-heeled shoes borrowed from his mother. The same tree half obscures a wild-haired-dark-thing of dubious origins wearing a red bow tie. In the background an ashen faced pierrot backs into the shelter of the bushes. Perhaps he’s afraid of the red-capped miniature elephant wielding that wicked looking cane; the one he took from the priest who’s praying for forgiveness in the church in the village below. All is quiet in the now empty village as the snow falls silently and evening comes upon the dark, dark wood.

Why does Rupert look so happy? Or is that a look of triumph?

ROAR! Let the slaughter begin!