Some movies just stick. You know the ones. They smell like old VHS plastic and dusty living room carpets. For a lot of us, the 1973 Hanna-Barbera production of Charlotte's Web is exactly that. It’s weird to think that a movie about a pig who doesn't want to die—and the spider who manipulates local agriculture to save him—could be so catchy. But it works. If you’re looking to watch Charlotte's Web cartoon, you aren't just looking for a kids' flick; you're looking for one of the most honest depictions of friendship and mortality ever put to cell animation.
Honestly, it shouldn't have worked. Hanna-Barbera was known for "limited animation." That’s the industry term for "we’re doing this as cheaply as possible." They gave us The Flintstones and Scooby-Doo, where backgrounds repeat every ten seconds and characters only move their mouths. Yet, with Charlotte’s Web, something changed. They brought in the Sherman Brothers—the guys who wrote the music for Mary Poppins and The Jungle Book. They hired Debbie Reynolds to voice a spider. Think about that. A Hollywood icon playing an arachnid.
The Raw Emotional Power of 1970s Animation
People today often forget how heavy children's media used to be. There’s a certain grit to the 1973 version that the 2006 live-action remake just couldn't capture, despite its CGI bells and whistles. When you sit down to watch Charlotte's Web cartoon, you’re seeing hand-painted barns and a version of Wilbur that looks genuinely terrified. Because he should be. He’s a spring pig, and he knows what happens when the frost hits.
E.B. White, the author of the original book, actually wasn't a huge fan of the movie. He famously disliked the songs. He felt they distracted from the "hymn to the barn" he had written. But for the rest of us? "Zuckerman's Famous Pig" is a certified bop. The music adds a layer of Americana that feels authentic to the Maine setting White loved so much. It captures that specific feeling of a county fair in the fall—the smell of fried food mixed with the looming realization that summer is over.
Why Templeton is the Secret Hero
Everyone talks about Charlotte. Sure, she’s the "humble" and "radiant" one. But Templeton the rat is the actual soul of the movie. Voiced by the legendary Paul Lynde, Templeton is a cynical, gluttonous scavenger who only helps because he’s bribed with garbage. He’s the most "human" character in the whole barn.
Remember the "A Fair Is a Veritable Smorgasbord" sequence? It’s a masterpiece of greed. While Wilbur is worrying about his life, Templeton is living his best life in the trash. It’s a necessary counterweight to the sentimentality. Without the rat, the movie would be too sweet. With him, it’s a balanced look at how the world actually works. Some people help because they love you; others help because there’s a half-eaten rotten egg in it for them. Both are useful.
Where to Find and Watch Charlotte's Web Cartoon Today
Finding the original can be a bit of a hunt depending on your streaming subscriptions. Usually, it lives on platforms like Paramount+ because of the Nickelodeon/Paramount connection to the old Hanna-Barbera library. You can also find it for digital rent or purchase on Amazon or Apple.
If you’re a purist, hunt down a DVD. Why? Because the colors in the digital "remasters" sometimes look a bit too bright. The original 35mm film had a warmth to it. It looked like a storybook. It’s one of those rare instances where a little bit of film grain actually makes the experience better.
- Check your local library: Seriously, they almost always have a copy.
- Streaming: Look for the Paramount mountain logo.
- Physical Media: The 2001 DVD release has some decent behind-the-scenes stuff.
Comparing the Versions: Why the 1973 Film Wins
We’ve had multiple iterations of this story. We had the 2003 direct-to-video sequel, Charlotte's Web 2: Wilbur's Great Adventure, which... let's just say it lacked the gravity of the original. Then the 2006 version with Dakota Fanning and Julia Roberts. That movie is fine. It’s cute. But it feels safe.
The 1973 version isn't safe. It’s the one that taught an entire generation about the concept of a "magnum opus." When Charlotte tells Wilbur that she’s staying behind at the fair because she’s tired and she’s finished her work, it hits like a ton of bricks. There’s no magical resurrection. There’s just the changing of the seasons and the arrival of the next generation. It’s a tough lesson, but an important one.
The animation style itself—directed by Charles A. Nichols and Iwao Takamoto—has a specific line quality that feels personal. Takamoto was the man who designed Scooby-Doo, but here, he leaned into a more naturalistic (yet still cartoony) style for the animals. Wilbur is pink and pudgy, but his eyes carry a weight that CGI often misses.
The Legacy of the Sherman Brothers’ Score
You can’t talk about this movie without the music. Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman were at the peak of their powers here. "Deep in the Dark" is a lullaby that manages to be both creepy and comforting at the same time. It’s exactly how a spider should sound.
And then there’s "Chin Up." It’s the quintessential "keep going" song. When life gets hard, Wilbur is told to keep his chin up. It’s simple, maybe a bit reductive, but it’s the kind of message kids need. It’s not about ignoring the bad stuff; it’s about facing it with a bit of dignity.
Critical Reception and Author Disdain
It’s a fun bit of trivia that E.B. White really struggled with the adaptation. He wrote in a letter that the story was "interrupted every few minutes so that somebody can sing a song." He felt the animated Wilbur was too "cute."
But art belongs to the audience once it’s out there. For millions of people, the animated Wilbur is Wilbur. The voice of Henry Gibson (known for Laugh-In) brought a specific kind of gentle innocence to the role. He wasn't a hero; he was a pig who was scared. And that made him relatable.
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The film was a modest success at the box office, but its real life began on television and home video. It became a staple of classroom movie days. If you went to elementary school between 1980 and 2010, you probably watched this on a rolling cart TV while a teacher graded papers in the back of the room. That shared cultural experience is why the demand to watch Charlotte's Web cartoon persists decades later.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Ending
A lot of people remember the ending as being purely sad. They remember the empty fairgrounds and the lonely crate. But they miss the point of the final five minutes. The movie isn't a tragedy; it’s a cycle.
When Charlotte’s daughters hatch—Joy, Aranea, and Nellie—and most of them fly away on the wind, Wilbur is devastated again. But three stay. And while they aren't Charlotte, they are of Charlotte. The movie ends on a note of continuity. Life goes on. The barn is still there. The seasons still turn. It’s about the fact that friendship changes you, even after the friend is gone.
Actionable Advice for Your Re-watch
If you’re planning to introduce this to a new generation or just revisit it yourself, here are a few things to keep in mind to get the most out of the experience.
Watch for the Backgrounds
Pay attention to the watercolor backgrounds. They are incredibly detailed and capture the atmosphere of rural America in a way that modern digital painting often fails to do. They feel "lived in."
Listen for the Voice Cast
Beyond the big names, the supporting cast is incredible. Paul Lynde as Templeton is the standout, but Agnes Moorehead (Endora from Bewitched) is hilarious as the stuttering Goose. The comedic timing is impeccable.
Prepare for the Conversation
If you're watching with kids, be ready for the "death talk." The movie doesn't sugarcoat Charlotte's passing. It’s a great entry point for talking about loss in a way that feels natural and supported by the story’s themes of nature and time.
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Pair it with the Book
Read a chapter, watch a segment. It’s fascinating to see what the animators kept and what they added. Despite E.B. White's reservations, the movie follows the plot of the book quite closely, making it a rare faithful adaptation of a literary classic.
The 1973 Charlotte's Web is a masterpiece of a very specific era of animation. It’s not flashy. It’s not "epic" in the modern sense. But it has a heart that beats louder than almost anything coming out of major studios today. It reminds us that being "terrific" isn't about how you look—it’s about how you treat your friends and how you face the inevitable changes of life. Go find a copy, grab some popcorn (and maybe a tissue), and settle in for a story that actually matters.