Official Disney Digest (May Contain Spoilers)

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Cartoon Spotlight #1


Three Orphan Kittens
(1935 / duration: over 8 minutes)

★★½

Synopsis:
First a sad lost-in-the-storm piece with the 3 adorable kitties in need of shelter. They find an open window into a house and go inside. Then, things shift into cute mischief as the kittens begin to cause trouble for a black housemaid by making a mess in the kitchen (ruining pies, breaking dishes) and a lot of noise in the living room (leaping on the piano keys). They have fun until they're discovered. Then, they may have to leave the safety and security of their new home.

Pre-Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Disney, the Silly Symphony series was known for getting by on a lot of musical mania. Comical mishaps with the characters' actions following the beat of the music. So, as a result, they all waste a bit of time in coordinating the action with the music. Although, in context of what the Symphonies do, that's the way they're supposed to be. The "meuwing" of the kittens remains cute even though they become the story's antagonists. The cartoon is immediately dated by what is sure to be perceived by many as racist references to the housemaid singing religious songs (this I very much agree with), speaking in dumbed-down and slurred English (good luck finding a copy of the cartoon in English however), and a toy doll in the child's room that is white on the top and rolls over to reveal a VERY creepy black doll underneath the white doll's skirt (though, I rather liked this because it's funny just how creepy it is- it violently whispers "MAMMY!" as it reaches out its' arms for a hug). Though to be fair, the white doll is every bit as unattractive and stupid-looking as the black one.

The cartoon is very groundbreaking for its' use of smooth camera pans following the kittens as they skate on the slick floor. This opens up a very three-dimensional world and you can see various objects in the house in perspective (the walls, chairs, tables, and lamps are shown from realistic angles). The playing on the piano keys scene (later reprised on 1970's The Aristocats) provides the short with most its' in-time notes dictate movement. The conclusion of the cartoon is interesting for the strange pan down to show the little white girl's shoes (I didn't get it, maybe someone else will) and what happens to the kittens is not nearly as cute as it should be. But when the dramatic music starts, you instinctively feel sorry for them, and the housekeeper's absurd "GOD!" shriek is funny as hell (the same as Donald Duck's many quacking bursts are, used in his cartoons to indicate shock or surprise). Overall, the short is important to the Disney canon and cute in spurts. But not the whole way through.

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Cartoon Spotlight #2


Hold That Pose
(1950 / duration: under 7 minutes)

★★★★

Synopsis:
Poor Goofy is tired of feeling he has nothing to make the trip home from a hard day's work worth it. So, he gets excited about taking up a new hobby: photography. He buys new equipment and rushes out into the zoo to film a live bear in his natural habitat. But, well... to paraphrase a John Waters' film: "some bears just don't feel like bein' art."

Goofy and Donald Duck produce the funniest Disney cartoon shorts, by far. And there's a difference between the two of them. Donald's cartoons are more about how he deserves what he gets and so, what happens to him is more mean-spirited. Not Goofy. His cartoons are more about how he can never do anything right. He's a well-meaning sap and no matter what he does, it always elevates into pure chaos. The kind that makes you think at times Final Destination's invisible grim reaper is turning all the forces of nature and electronics and carpentry and house and home against him. Havoc insues in a big way, every time without fail. I guess you might say the thing that gets him into trouble is his enthusiasm. At least, in so far as Hold That Pose is concerned. One of the few Disney shorts I saw as a child that I remember, very fondly, to this day. I also can't tell you how hard I laughed as a kid during the Goofy in the dark room scene. Children really do find comic violence hilarious.

Disney 'toon animation in the 1950's became very ornate and showy in later work of the decade, but Hold That Pose is still of the swinging 40's style (really resembling the lush painting scapes of 1949's Adventures of Ichabod & Mr. Toad and 50's Cinderella). Even taking place in nature, future 50's cartoons would really elaborate on every outside detail. Especially the era of the Cinemascope features (Lady and the Tramp, Sleeping Beauty). But the real focus of this 'toon is insane humor. It actually scared me as a kid how close the bear gets to catching Goofy, and even more- though he's portrayed as a "you've disturbed my sleep, and now you will die," how maniacal he is as he follows Goofy everywhere (the taxi and the elevator bits are really creepy, look at his eyes)- suggesting "now I will eat you" with every stare. This short (as much as a scene like "Pink Elephants on Parade" from Dumbo) proves that Disney were masters of absurdist comedy (look at how the camera tripod is so scared of the bear, it runs too). The music (which deserves special credit here- crisp, jazzy, and full of thrilling sting) is cranked up, and everything just goes wild!

Disney in nature animation is some of the studio's most beautiful work. I've always thought of myself more a Disney fantasy fan through the years, remembering the likes of Sleeping Beauty, Sword in the Stone (lots of spell-casting and the like there), and select scenes from Dumbo (the aforementioned "Pink Elephants"), Winnie the Pooh ("Heffalumps & Woozles"), Mary Poppins- etc. Scenes dealing with magic, leaving reality. But though Disney's picturesque way with nature is likely to invoke a kind of nauseating Norman Rockwell effect with some viewers, I truly love Disney nature and history pieces. I don't look to them as a source of learning (though I actually did feel I gained a lot from the Donald in Mathmagic Land short). But I love the way they make small areas from frontier type towns, the old west, ranches, barns, etc(.) look. They make them look big. Disney are even able to imbue magic into areas which you don't think of as being epicenters of technology and machinery (like you might a huge Disney theme park or one of their many merchandise stores). Bonus: Video of Disneyland's Hungry-Bear Restaurant, from YouTube.

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Cartoon Spotlight #3


Uncle Donald's Ants
(1952 / duration: around 7 minutes)

½★

Synopsis:
Donald is walking home from grocery shopping when he realizes he's spilling sugar from an open bag onto a poor little stray ant. Feeling generous, Donald gives the creature a cube of his sugar, smiles, and says "so long." Or so he thinks. As it turns out, the ant isn't a stray at all. He belongs to a colony, tells them about where he got the sugar from, and together they plan an invasion of Donald's house. Donald is just one step ahead of them and seals up his door and windows. But these are very determined ants.

In Donald Duck's many battles with animals and pesky woodland critters, typically of diminutive size, there is one constant that remains true: Donald is mean and nasty. Who knows what this is meant to represent, but in Disney's cartoon world- Donald is just a jerk who always gets what is coming to him. Because he's mean to the animals, they typically enact revenge on him once he does something mean. Occasionally, you can see it from his point of view- like with the Chip and Dale cartoons. They don't ask before they steal his nuts or apples. But they live in trees and, so of course they're going to take what is in the trees. It's hard for a farmer to claim full ownership on trees from nature itself. But there's a huge difference between Chip and Dale and this cartoon with the ant tribe of thieves- those cartoons are funny. This one is not. For once, Donald does a truly good deed. He helps the ant, makes sure he isn't hurt, and gives the little guy some of his sugar. How is he rewarded? He isn't. The little bastards take advantage of him and rob his entire house.

In cartoons like this and the one where Chip and Dale try to steal Donald's pancakes or the one where Huey, Dewey, and Louie try to steal Donald's pies, the Disney team go a step further and always show Donald - for whatever reason - making more than 4 times the amount of food he would need or be able to eat. Clearly as motivation for the other party to try and steal it. To show Donald as ruthlessly greedy or gluttonous. I know it's just a cartoon and there's no point in trying to make this moral or anything. But when you figure this has been done so many other times by Disney before and after this 'toon, I have to say it's been done a lot better. Even - if not especially - with the little bee character, who may have always been a little too quick to try and sting Donald (making him indiscriminate and overly zealous) but he usually had a much better excuse for wronging Donald. I just can't overemphasize this one- Donald didn't ask for any of this. He did nice for a change and the ants, who are actually portrayed very much like an African tribe, are shown to be militant, cretinous invaders. Is this what they want us to think people of African tribal descent are really like?

As for other info, etc(.), it's very amusing for me to note that the tribal grunting sounds coming from the ants are the exact same sounds that Maleficent's army of goons make in Sleeping Beauty, one of my favorite Disney films. Sound effects here are just swell (at least, the pipe clanging noises the macaroni noodles make are very impressive / harmonious). The animation has entered the 50's but the pace of the antics is so fast, there are fewer shots where you're allowed to (if you're anything like I am) fawn over how great the backgrounds are. The most detail in the 'toon is seen in closeups of objects. Sugarcubes sparkle like diamonds. Donald's radio is several different shades of pink. Though again, the focus is on energy and momentum. So, Donald's dilemma and the time in which it takes the ants to steal everything in his cupboards are over in lightning speed. Everything Disney does usually looks pretty good. But, if you're looking for fun- I think you'll get it in spades elsewhere.

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Cartoon Spotlight #4


Springtime
(1929 / duration: 6 minutes)

★★★½

Synopsis:
Spring has come and this just makes the animals of the forest want to dance. Meanwhile, the cycle of life and so on must continue. So some of the critters get hungry and have a snack- on the other animals.

With all of Disney's earliest cartoons in black and white and the characters having no dialogue, one might think they were not only the most basic but that they also weren't very good. It's true that since they have little to offer but charm and the music itself, and lack the Disney colorsplash (especially in scenes like the flying ponies pooldiving in Fantasia), that they do take less time to wear thin. But wider objects were often drawn with a lot of detail, character animation was still good, and this second age of the eldest Disney 'toons were populated with ensemble casts of cute animals fooling around. This means that the creep factor can often be on high as Disney found little for them to do but either dance or hurt each other (hence, the birth of The Simpsons' Itchy and Scratchy, a parody on Disney's meaner Silly Symphony skits- and there were plenty of those). This particular 'toon is a true classic of the ether-landscape of art and mood. It rises somewhere above the simple clever gags. There's an especially brilliant moment where a tree comes to life during a rainstorm and takes a shower. Also, while the frog dances on a log, there's a shot of his reflection in the water. And if the main draw to this short were just the music, you'll surely be tappin' the ditty the flowers dance to for days. This is famously the short that plays on the television in 101 Dalmatians, while Sgt. Tibbs tries to usher the puppies to safety.

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Animated Feature Spotlight #1


Pinocchio
(1940 / duration: 1 hour, 27 minutes)

★★★

(ALL IMAGES BELOW ARE ENLARGEABLE - CLICK THEM)

Synopsis (by "Luke Bonanno"):
"Based loosely on Carlo Collodi's 1883 novel, Pinocchio tells the story of an old woodcarver and the marionette he builds which comes to life. The man, Geppetto, puts the finishing touches on his creation (who he names "pine eye" in Italian) and wishes on a star that the puppet could be a real boy. While he sleeps, the Blue Fairy pays a visit and grants the wish provisionally. She appoints our oft-flustered guide Jiminy Cricket as the boy's conscience, who will help him choose right over wrong. When Geppetto awakens to find he essentially has a son, all appears to be right in this undefined European village. But Pinocchio's path to real boyhood is filled with obstacles. In an unusual design that Disney hasn't recreated since, the villains basically outnumber the kind-hearted folks here. While walking to his first day of school, Pinocchio encounters an anthropomorphic fox and cat. Calling himself "Honest John" and doing all the talking, the fox encourages the boy to try a life in theatre, referring him to Stromboli. This puppeteer instantly cashes in on the spectacle of a marionette who needs no strings to walk or talk.

The lucrative arrangement soon proves to be unfavorable and an imprisoned Pinocchio needs the Blue Fairy to set him free. In the process, Pinocchio discovers his nose grows each time he stretches the truth. Further temptation arises when Honest John and his mute sidekick are enlisted by a twisted Coachman to help round up mischievous boys for a trip to Pleasure Island. There, Pinocchio smokes, drinks, and plays pool with his smart-alecky new best friend Lampwick. Another rescue is needed, this time from a more terrifying fate. The final act brings Pinocchio and Jiminy to the sea, where Geppetto and his pets have been swallowed whole by Monstro the whale. Just dropping the massive mammal's name causes aquatic creatures to rush away, but eventually a reunion is made. It's followed by an adventurous climax, a close call, and the inevitable resolution to wrap up everything and leave viewers fulfilled."

Observations (mine):
Tone and suggestion are two of the most important things to Disney's fantasy films. Because, although Disney weren't the first filmmakers to try and take the audience away from reality (and Disney themselves admired and were influenced by works of horror- another genre that required a distance from reality), their films were perhaps the first experiences rooted in pure fantasy. When Disney started making feature length films in the 1930's, they were all based on fairy tale books and famous fantasy stories. At least, by now the story of Pinocchio is world-renowned and the film market has been cluttered with several different versions of it. Few (or no other) animated if I'm recalling correctly. The first question I'd like to ask and answer with these dedication articles is- what has made the film so special that it's endured all these years?

Well, when I first brought the film to the Steve board's attention, it was in an article about Disney DVD's. What I didn't indicate the first time 'round was that Disney's celebrated "Platinum Edition" line originallly did not include a place for Pinocchio. For quite some time, the studio considered it a much less profitable film than the likes of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Bambi, Cinderella, The Jungle Book, and Lady and the Tramp. Even though the film still received very high-profile VHS releases with tons of publicity, spawned one of the most famous songs in the studio's history (many say- their calling card) with "When You Wish Upon a Star" (every single bit as recognizable as Tinkerbell, the little fairy that graces, in motion, the front of every magical screen and title page they produced in the era of home entertainment), and created a long-running beloved character which appeared in other Disney films and TV specials, Jiminy Cricket (sort of the male version of Tinkerbell in a way: pint-sized, fast-moving, and is often seen flying around with the use of his ever-handy umbrella... so obviously, he himself was an influence on Mary Poppins).

Yeah, Pinocchio is legend. And it's true that the film was not financially successful when it was originally released in the 1940's. But there's a fact that is always important to consider along with this information. Their previous smash-hit, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, owed its' success to the fact that it was distributed all around Europe as well as America. Unfortunately, in the very early 40's, the world war that was beginning to take shape devastated Europe before Pearl Harbor was bombed, severing almost all of that market from Disney's revenue. Although most people feel none of this should have ever happened and it will always be viewed as a tragedy, it did happen, it shaped Disney into what it became in the 40's, and in spite of it and in the face of potential total bankruptcy- it didn't affect the quality of the work of the Disney animators or stifle their ambitions.

Regardless of any fall from grace in the eyes of idiotic DVD executives, this film was one of the studio's most ambitious undertakings in their entire history. What's special about it is that it's easily their most ironic and twisted film, perhaps their darkest and most bleak, many have said- their scariest (sorry, Angela Lansbury... she said on the Snow White DVD that that film was Disney's scariest: not by a long shot, babe), and a truly anarchic morality ploy. I hope to address all of these, but let's start with that last one first. Pinocchio is a film (I want to put a lid on any comparisons to the original story, since I can't claim expert on that sort of thing) that some would seem to pride on Disney that it teaches a real lesson. If that is so, the film's concern is to show us how to be good. What is right and wrong. But in truth, this film couldn't care less what you do with your choices. It just shows us, deadfaced, what will happen in its' world if you screw up. And it isn't a pretty picture.

I'm referencing, almost exclusively, the latter half of the Pleasure Island scenes. In case you've lost any appreciation for what did happen, let me compound upon that trauma. A hefty percent of the child population of the animated universe is whisked away on carriage and boat to said Island, a lawless carnival town where visitors are encouraged to smoke, destroy property, beat each other up, eat all they want, be rude and completely ignore the safety and well-being of others. That can never be and most likely will never be viewed as anything other than end-of-days stuff. Anarchy on a biblical scale. But what is it, really? It's just letting the male gender loose and letting it do what it does naturally: destroy. I'll get back to that last thought later, trust me. In the meantime, I think we can tell this is a rather busy set-up for a big fall.

Immediately after this, Jiminy makes his way throughout the scene. It was night when everyone arrived and it's still night now. But... where are all the kids? They were here just a minute ago when all the ruckus was going on (we assume that hours have passed between that and a fade-to-black). But now, as Jiminy comments: the "place is like a graveyard." I think you remember what happened to all the kids. My job is to put it in perspective and it gives me a rare vindicated glee to tell you that: trying to be men is what got them in trouble. One could get all bent out of shape trying to make a religious connection and say the message is about deviating from God's plan. This is where the glee comes in. This movie is saying it's never okay to act like a selfish, irresponsible pig. That destruction of all kinds - including toward humanity itself (a product of hate and intolerance), which many adult men practice, is a crime. This forces us to realize that religion has nothing to do with the choices we make.

Pinocchio cold-heartedly dispatches its' tour bus-load of Hostel-esque ne'erdowells in a way that makes Jiminy's "graveyard" crack frighteningly come to life. First of all, what do you think the Coachman and his staff of shadow-coats (whose black cloaks in many regards bear horrifying resemblance to those of a classic executioner... a full-dressed one, at least) did with the donkeys who could still talk? That's the only thing left to your imagination. What you do know is that, at this incredibly young age, these boys' lives are over. They look like donkeys. But what we perceive as human features- no one else ever would. That means that being sold into slavery isn't the only tragedy of this fate. This isn't the beginning of a new life, it's the end of their old one. If one were to continue a religious analogy- it's the beginning of hell within the span of a life on Earth. Does that mean these boys are destined for a double-hell? Depends on which Bible you read.

How does that grab ya? And it's all the scarier that we see the boys as donkeys being engaged in conversation for the final time. They are actually being given something of a platform to speak. They can voice their sorrow and fear and plead for their lives. Which they do. Tearfully. But only as a means to consign themselves to either a lifetime of grueling, abusive work in the salt mines or what may well be their executions. They don't know. I guess now is the time to question the signifcance of the black coats. Could merely be Disney's way of suggesting evil (they do love their shadow creepers and darkness-cloaked devils)... or they could have a practical purpose (that inference is ideally best left to your imagination, but I don't trust other people's imaginations anymore: I'm talking about keeping splattered blood from staining their clothes or skin).

At this point, it's actually a good idea to ask oneself- is there a lighter side to Pinocchio... at all? Yes, but it's a rather goofy one. The film is almost nothing but light-hearted at the start. Jiminy Cricket is a strange sort of mood-lightener. He sets the tone for the film by singing a crooning, time-stands-still ballad, and when we first see him onscreen he seems to be singing to himself. Then, as he starts to narrate his leg of the film, things get interesting. It's not only the first of the film's visual wonders (the bouncing zooms into the window of Geppetto's workshop, starry-night pans through the mountainous skies of the film's quaint village) but also the initiative for a parade of bizarre sexual references. Mr. Cricket is a real ladies' man. He loves wooden ones and the types who can't refuse (blow-up doll, anyone?). And goes weak-at-the-knees for probably the film's only female character other than a fish in a bowl (unless the designs on Geppetto's clocks count), The Blue Fairy.

Speaking of the film's ratio of male-to-female characters... I did leave a certain thought above unfinished: the movie's underlying message about the purpose of the male gender. I was in no way defending the film's silly sex jokes with the paragraph directly above this one or the one to follow this immediately below. If anything, Pinocchio's childish streak is its' greatest flaw. But it eventually pales in the face of its' message about the nature of creation and destruction. The Blue Fairy doesn't explain very much to Pinocchio, nor does anything she says provide an adequate warning to anyone of the dangers that lie ahead in the story. But she is the film's God. A woman acting as the symbol of hope and purveyor of wisdom. If anyone taught Pinocchio the wooden puppet how to sacrifice for love and earn his transformation at the end, it is her. Therefore, if God creates and we destroy- only males in this film are seen as a destructive force by and large (Geppetto himself is the sole exception), and God is a woman (since she never has to answer to anyone herself). A fairly progressive stance considering how many people have pegged Disney as fuddy-dudddies.

Now, I did indict the film for a parade of sexual references. To continue with that, you might be shocked to learn this but Pinocchio has an obsessive fetish for butt references. I once did a counter, but I stopped somewhere in the first 20 or so minutes. Throughout the film, there are literally dozens of references. Most of which take place inside of those first 20. And I'm going to do a counter with you now. 1- Jiminy warms his rear by the fire and yet, can't seem to say that's what he was doing in the narration- is he ashamed? The movie sure isn't. 2- the spanking clock. 3- during "Little Wooden Head," marionette Pinocchio kicks Figaro in the rear. 4- while watching Geppetto and his pets, Jiminy puts his hand on a figurine's rear end and realizes his error soon after. 5- while caught in the gears of Geppetto's clock, Jiminy's rear is bumped by one. 6-

To continue with Pinocchio's virtues... heady animation and a musical atmosphere to match it are impressive enough in their own right. But to support charges of the film's superior artistic ambitions, the film is a pioneer of ironic storytelling. The film may begin with faux-heart warming montages of merry dancing (just a continuation of Snow White's "Silly Song" insane cheerfulness?) and smiling dopes singing. But as soon as we're faced with Pinocchio himself, if you came for sap- you're going to be rather stuck there. Pinocchio as a character does not use logic. He just repeats whatever is said to him. Think about that for a second. Our moral compass is directed by whatever hand is currently stroking him. His naivety is overpowering. He's an idiot, for lack of a better word. He even smiles straight-ahead at several people and just goes... "Why?" By that token, it's nearly an accident that he becomes a hero at film's end.

This leaves the gate open for a large variety of scenes where it's almost amusing to watch the creeps who take advantage of Pinocchio doing so. For the sake of farce, the best would be when fox Honest John decides to give Pinocchio a makeshift doctor's exam. He's not even speaking, he's dancing with words (to a jazzy musical accompaniment). During another sequence, Jiminy renders himself ineffective in the movie by saying, "what does an actor want with a conscience anyway?" Ignoring the obvious behind-the-scenes implication, there's more to this. And it ties Jiminy's role to Honest John's, and silent sidekick Gideon's, interference. The plot sets up that Jiminy is Pinocchio's conscience and that it's his job to keep the termite-meal out of trouble. But he never does. Did you ever stopped to wonder why that is? Hilariously, Jiminy actually disappears completely from the screen several times during the movie. Two of which are while Pinocchio is talking to Honest John. And moments when he is actually supposed to be following him.

Just about all the double-talk and multi-driver story elements revolve around how unaware of anything Pinocchio is. You'd have to say he's very much like Patrick in the SpongeBob SquarePants episode, "Hooky," to the point where the quote "I sense no danger here" could be something Pinocchio might say verbatim. Granted, the irony-soaked cartoons to follow were mostly thinking themselves the literal results of what Pinocchio started. Almost like parodies of it. But of course, Pinocchio walks the walk. An early scene does this particularly well. During Geppetto's moment of merriment and glee at the sight of his puppet come to life, Pinocchio suddenly catches on fire. Boy, that'll put a stop to most anyone's celebration. But, the "little wooden head" doesn't even realize that once that flame gets beyond his glove- he's toast! All he can do is look at himself on fire and say, "ooh, pretty!"

Another great moment, one that starts with a double meaning and serves to bring the tone of the film into the darker realm of "wait a minute, there's danger... and it's too late to do anything about it" is Pinocchio's conversation with traveling puppet show master Stromboli inside his carriage. We all know this guy is trouble and up to no good. But what is he capable of doing, what would he do, and how mean is he? There's only way to find out. By, in effect, giving Pinocchio to him. The scene continues to show us how dumb the puppet is when Stromboli stops himself from flying into a rage over being cheated a gold coin for a steel chain part by handing it over to Pinocchio as payment for his performance in the puppet show. Then, switches over into big trouble when Stromboli maps out his plan to use Pinocchio in the show until he's only good to heat the man's grotesque, obese frame in the form of firewood. Then, he'll do that to our hero. All with devious chuckle and menacing aggressive vocality.

Is Pinocchio a funny film? Despite many brilliant ideas and turns of phrases, etc(.), no. No scene illustrates this better than the at first can-you-believe-your-eyes transformation scene that has become Disney infamy. Pinocchio and Lampwick at the pool hall as they both slowly become donkeys. It starts with wonder, and elevates when the characters start laughing. Here's where the brilliant part comes in: although both are laughing, which one of them is aware that they are both donkeys? Pinocchio. The naive guy with a perpetual dopey demeanor with never the slightest idea what's going on. Even though he has grown ears and a tail, which should be alarming to him, he can't help laughing at Lampwick. Lampwick laughs at Pinocchio's misfortune, not knowing he himself has the same problem. This is the kind of irony you can beat someone with. This coming in on the heels of the famous donkeys in cages scene, Lampwick not only shows us pretty much how the donkeys are allowed to talk but also how they lose their voice, and gives us the impression that he won't be like the other donkeys as he violently seems to lose his mind completely. Future leader of a revolt perhaps?

Pinocchio is both an emotional tug of war between happy and sad and a full-scale epic of raw storytelling power. The famous Monstro chase is regarded by legions of film fans as one of the greatest action scenes of cinema history. The scene of Pinocchio's nose growing is a culmination of all the film's funny sweet and sour poignancy. The music adds a touching side to the film that allows it to be kept in the family genre (which, let's face it, is both shocking when you consider the film's subtexts and the only way we are able to keep seeing Disney's work; that conservative families somehow see themselves as duty-bound to buy Disney's film collections for children). Story turning points are given the freedom to terrorize audiences. And the animation is truly stunning. From characters to backgrounds. And special effects from glowing angels to the glimmering, shimmering surfaces of the water- there's a scene where Pinocchio dives into a huge body of water (ocean?) and during that moment, I always kind of feel like I'm falling too.

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Animated Feature Spotlight #2


Cinderella
(1950 / duration: 1 hour, 14 minutes)

★★½

(ALL IMAGES BELOW ARE ENLARGEABLE, except one - CLICK THEM)

Synopsis (by "Luke Bonanno"):
"Loosely adapted from Frenchman Charles Perrault's late-17th century book, Cinderella tells the story of a spirited young lady who is reduced to being
an overworked servant at the hands of her relentlessly cruel stepmother and unpleasant stepsisters. News of a royal ball to which the attendance of all local eligible bachelorettes is sought gives Cinderella hope for a happy evening out and maybe more, for it is being thrown to find a handsome prince a suitable wife. But stepmother Lady Tremaine sees to it that only her daughters by birth, Anastasia and Drizella, go with the prospect of catching the prince's eye. Until, that is, the Fairy Godmother shows up, works a little magic, transforms Cindy's shredded dress into an elegant gown, and whisks her off to the dance. Despite having a lovely night of waltzing with a charming stranger, the fact that the magic will wear off at midnight forces Cinderella to exit in a hurry, thus separating her from her newfound love and leaving only a glass slipper behind. I'm sure you know this much and the rest, and chances are you know it from Walt Disney's widely-seen and adored retelling."

Observations (mine):
The 50's truly were, to Disney, a fabulous decade. The reason why is clearly because their great success following 1937's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was cut short due to the public's outright rejection of Fantasia combined with World War II cutting off the European market- they just weren't able to get their new films overseas. So they had to rely on what would make America happy. America didn't like Pinocchio or Bambi much more than Fantasia, either. This was beyond bad- it nearly destroyed the studio. In a way, were it not for Dumbo, which was just successful enough to keep the studio afloat for the package-film years (1945-1949) - because the U.S. military weren't barely paying Disney for their propaganda shorts, there would have been no features after that.

I guess history teaches us that America can only take so much soft or girly fantasy before they decide they want an animal film about a little boy underdog. So following up Dumbo - a very all-American fable with easy to swallow morality, seemingly lightweight action, and lots of heart-warmth, not to mention the novelty fun of circus conventions - with something as heavy and dramatic (and, let's face it- femme; have you ever heard of a boy with a name like that?) as Bambi wasn't the greatest idea. But Disney were always experimenting. They never gave up on variety, since so many projects overlapped each other in development. Which is why I have a great, unexpressable fondness for the package film years which preceded Cinderella, the film that everyone says saved Disney. And it's true.

Cinderella was a sure thing. The easiest bet the studio ever took. Which means two things. The first is that the film could be seen as the most vanilla (plain, boring, flat) in Disney's cannon. Is it? No way in hell (that honor belongs to either Lady and the Tramp or Beauty and the Beast- depending upon which era of Disney classics is your favorite: 1937-1959 or 1989-2009). The formula of the film depends on merging of all Disney's previous main elements. You'll notice we have a Snow White here in the form of a beautiful, elligible young maiden who dreams of a handsome Prince falling in love with her. Then, there are the helpful mice friends straight out of Dumbo who are always there when she needs them (and follow her around almost everywhere she goes).

The backgrounds are lush and breath-taking and elegant (I kinda credit Bambi for this, there's a lot of brown and whitish-grays in both as well as pastel green). The musical sequences take us on a flight of fancy right out of reality, featuring gorgeous dissolves into bubbles and wafting watery scenery. That's clearly Fantasia. There's a Wicked Stepmother who forces our heroine to work in rags, cleaning their large chateau-castle estate. As well as comedic hijinks featuring a small army of similar-looking dwarf creatures (the mice again). Both Snow White. As for Pinocchio, I might say the danger element that comes in every now and then. It's lowkey, but it's there just the same. Especially during the coach chase while the Duke screams, the creepy closeups of Lady Tremaine under shadows, and 3 or so Lucifer the Cat interludes.

Cinderella, like any Disney film, can clearly get-by without bringing a lot that's new to the table. In a way, the film really has one of Disney's most magical atmospheres. Highlighted by the dreamy "So This is Love" and "Oh, Sing Sweet Nightingale" sequences I referenced above. Easily two of the most stunning moments in Disney film history. The film has been seen by some as a dumb breeding tale. And it's hard to discount theories like those. My personal feeling on Disney is that their films are so broad, you can make whatever fantasy you want for yourself. And with that in mind, Cinderella is a film that has a couple notable flaws. Its' structure as a fantasy dictates that it will bounce back and forth between an often obnoxious reality and a whole other world of dreams.

The latter is the one that makes the film enjoyable for me. A lot of people truly like the mice characters and I don't hate them or anything. But they are strange. And very distracting. In fact, the film really seems to be more about them than the heroine of the title. Not only are they everywhere save for a single scene at the King's palace (where Cinderella has her famous ballroom dance encounter with Prince Charming), but since they outnumber her and could be considered cute by children, the Disney team try to develop characters and quirks for the lot of them. Doing that in the confines of a 75-minute animated film structure is kinda pointless. So there as underdeveloped as Cinderella is. And yeah, she is too. Which you can take to be good if you find the magic feeling vague, or bad if you come for storytelling.

The mice have silly habits and none of them are that amusing. On the boys' side, there are a pair of followers who look like twins. A fat little retarded one (with ensuing visual gags about how he's willing to risk his own life to get more food than the other, skinny mice and how he has to suck-in his large tummy to avoid being scaled by a drop of hot tea) named Gusgus who wants to fight huge cat, Lucifer (who is also fat and generally ugly- no surprise, Disney do have a nasty habit of trying to characterize villains with harmless features that nice normal people can have but are often picked on for). Then you have the chatterbox, Jaq. He's the least annoying and most heroic of the bunch. Which is clearly why he's the thinnest. No- seriously though, he's very likable. A lot more so, in fact, than the hero of their 1953 classic, Peter Pan (or his partner, Tinkerbell).

There are also some female mice, though since the film has so many female characters there isn't much for them to do but to "shoo! Shoo!" away the boy mice as Cinderella takes her morning shower (naked, of course, behind a folding screen). Perverts! And to enforce gender roles. While the mice all band together to make Cinderella's dress, Jaq (again this film's Peter Pan - very chivalrous and dashing) volunteers to "do the sewing" with great enthusiasm. But this film's version of what I'd like to characterize as the patronizing nursing sister from the "Germans" episode of Fawlty Towers stops him and tells him sewing is for women, assigning him instead the job of going out (of the cavernous attic crawlspaces they seem to live in) to hunt for supplies. (These guys don't seem to know the expression: get out of the cave!)

Unlike the males, all the female mice look and talk exactly the same- with only the colors on their outfits (all pastels) to differentiate between them. Now that's sister solidarity. And this isn't the only example of somewhat confusing (or just plain wrong) Disney traditionalism present in the film. Which brings me to the film's Prince, who is built up in the scene of his ranting, raving, fossil of a father (the King, obviously) as a bit of a reckless wild child who's either left the nest to go find himself (beatnik) or still lives at the castle and frequently leaves to go out on his own (gay). "It's high-time the boy settled down!" screeches the idiotic old fool. This is clearly the story's way of trying to either rope him into a class he doesn't want to be a part of or force him into what is viewed as a heteronormative lifestyle.

Of course, with all these issues, the viewer is still given the freedom to not take them seriously. It would probably be hard in any period of American culture to make a fairy tale that would last through the ages and be considered socially relevant to future decades. Although, some might argue that even in 1950, these were primitive methods of telling a story. That leaves us to accept that what is most likely the truth is Walt himself was a bit of a traditionalist, racist, homophobe, but that he didn't mean any harm. That that's the way everyone was and there was pressure on him to believe certain things. (As for the claims that he turned people working for him over to the McCarthy lynch mob psychos... that would certainly make him look a lot worse. There would be no excuse for that- though this is all discussion for another time.)

Cinderella is not one of their best films. But like most of the classics, the questionable is more than outweighed by the attractive, entertaining, magical, and intriguing qualities. Things like goofily grinning animal sidekicks have been a Disney staple from the beginning and with all things considered, though Snow White's bird and chipmunk friends never judged her, their involvement in the story and interaction with other characters improved somewhat by this time. Instead of just being an almost creepy army of smiling freaks, they all have a little pathos that determines they have personal space. For example, I mentioned Cinderella's shower scene earlier. In this film, you never get the impression that the mice would want to watch her. Not so in Snow White. Everything was so communal there, no one had any privacy. Then, mix in the smiling faces and screwy eyes and you have a voyeuristic nightmare waiting to happen (ala- the glory hole scene in John Waters' Cecil B. Demented).

Between the jaw-dropping animation and the magical feeling it inspires in most viewers, what Disney skates by on most is charm. I usually find charm in what is often considered by most not to be very charming at all. Colorful, playful darkness is my trade of choice. Disney deals a lot in this, shown in many of their films. Some viewers see Disney's darkness as a reputation of the forces of Satan and the underworld of Hell. That's way heavy. I believe instead, the animators viewed what they were doing more as art. And as a result, their films are experiences to sit and enjoy. Snow White would have the edge over this film in terms of darkness. But, Cinderella has perhaps the most cutting and hated villain in Disney history, as well (although I'm told the character Claude Frollo from 1996's The Hunchback of Notre Dame has somewhat eclipsed her since the internet boom).

Lady Tremaine is the most personal villain of the classic era. She isn't a witch (though in one unforgettable moment, she is shown with glowing eyes of a different color) or a sorceress, she has no source of supernatural powers, and everything she does to Cinderella comes from a place of realistic, everyday human cruelty. Even though we don't see a lot during the movie of how her relationship was planted, there is more than one key moment where we see her trying to reduce Cinderella to tears and/or take away her only remaining hope. And given Cinderella's day-to-day life, throughout the movie she could be viewed as too optimistic anyway. While, respectfully, she is never treated like a lazy brat (I'll get to the stepsisters in a second), she's another Disney heroine given a supernatural kind streak.

Most importantly, however, she has a lot more sass than her Disney Princess sisters Snow White, Aurora, and modern era models Ariel and Belle. Though her kindness is always kept in-check, she doesn't hesitate to be very firm when attending to the animals underneath her. This is part of the fantasy experience of Disney- in real life, we all know she'd be like Celie in The Color Purple (only likely weeping with frizzed hair over hot stove) and have no control over Bruno, Lucifer, the mean chickens, etc. Her haggy stepsisters, Drusilla and Anastasia, are comic relief compared to the stepmother. And I've always loved them. Especially Anastasia (because she has the nicest moment, just that little "what's the matter with her?" with eyes wide open and face almost concerned-looking). Their little flute fight during their musical recital is hilarious.

Speaking of antagonists used as comic relief- did you know that the woman's voice doing narration at the beginning is the actress who went on to play Cruella DeVil in 101 Dalmatians? Oh, the woman playing Anastasia also is in Dalmatians, as the voice who sings the "Kanine Krunchies" television jingle. Less entertaining than the bitchy, antagonistic women are the comedy team playing the royal hierachy in charge of running the kingdom where the story takes place. The King is definitely one of the biggest flaws of the movie (and will surely leave you longing for the much more big-hearted King Hubert from Sleeping Beauty). The Duke ends up almost playing Iago to the King's Jafar. And even then, I liked Iago and Jafar! The King is just such an unreasonable jerk in every way. A white-haired version of Mr. Banks from Mary Poppins.

Cinderella the film is a push and pull the whole way through. But I think we all know that very few things in life are perfect. Watching Disney films will always be a perfect thing, though. It's almost impossible to put into words that magic they're capable of achieving. They WERE, that is. Things just ain't the same no more. But even that doesn't stop the old classics from working that voodoo they do so well. The music is charming, though only intermittently as otherworldly as some classic Disney films (my favorite moment: the awesome distortion that occurs while Lady Tremaine reads off The King's proclamation - listen for it). With the balance of female characters, it's nice to see them turn in a male as cool as Jaq and bitches as fun as Anatasia. And such a great villain. Oh...I forgot to mention the Fairy Godmother, didn't I? Oh well, you can't miss her. She's there. In all her chubby (sometimes viewed as nice when it's an older woman - though sometimes not, in cases such as The Sword in the Stone and Lady and the Tramp) glory.

[nopersonality]

Animated Feature Spotlight #3


Oliver & Company
(1988 / duration: 1 hour, 13 minutes)

★★

(ALL IMAGES BELOW ARE ENLARGEABLE - CLICK THEM)

Synopsis (by "Luke Bonanno"):
"As you could easily guess, Oliver puts a new spin on Dickens' second novel, Oliver Twist, which debuted as a monthly serial from 1837 to 1839. The text had been put to film several times in the Silent Era. Master director David Lean adapted it faithfully in 1948. Born out of the musical stage show, 1968's Oliver! would win six Academy Awards including Best Picture. Placing its own distinctive twist on the story, Disney's Oliver centers on an orange cat abandoned in Manhattan. The only unadopted kitten of a litter, Oliver (voiced by future teen heartthrob Joey Lawrence) tries to make his own way through the city's bustle. He soon encounters Dodger (musician Billy Joel), a smooth-talking, street-smart dog who uses the cat to score some free hot dogs. Oliver follows Dodger back to his home, where he discovers the artful mutt is part of a band of street dogs living communally. The group includes feisty Chihuahua Tito (Cheech Marin), learned English bulldog Francis (Roscoe Lee Browne), lone female Rita (Sheryl Lee Ralph), and a Great Dane named Einstein (Richard Mulligan).

The gang reluctantly lets Oliver join their ranks. Meanwhile, their human companion Fagin (Dom DeLuise) is down on his luck, having just three days to pay back a sinister loan shark named Sykes (Robert Loggia). This pushes the bum's loyal canines into petty crook overdrive. While serving as lookout on his very first scam, Oliver winds up in the possession of a lonely, wealthy girl named Jenny (Natalie Gregory). She adopts the kitten and instantly takes to him, which is okay with her butler but less satisfactory to the family's pampered prize-winning poodle Georgette (Bette Midler). Unaware that Oliver is content with his new household on the Upper East Side, his undomesticated dog friends try to rescue him. In the process, Fagin thinks he might have the answer to his burdensome debts."

Observations (mine):
As you may have gathered from my 2 previous feature Spotlights (dedications more than they'll ever be reviews), I'm a big believer in Disney magic. To the sort of people who flock to Disney because they feel the studio have always acted as a shield to the real world, or to feed traditional conservative values into America's idiotic, becoming increasingly obsese children, my view of Disney practically makes me a witch. Though this certain isn't a review of The Craft (none of Disney's sub-companies - Touchstone, Hollywood, Miramax, Dimension - had anything to do with that film), and these aren't the days of the Salem trials. Although, Disney consistently prove how stupid American buyers of family entertainment product can be, they also had an almost supernatural brand of magic that eminated off of their fantasy films.

That, somewhat sadly, turned out to be one of those things however that couldn't last forever. In the 1980's, Reagan hollowed almost all of the goodness out of America and things got bad. Real bad. Disney continued to experiment with new stories and etc(.)- but that old magic began dying too. 1981's The Fox and the Hound (the first Reagan-era Disney film) was a shockingly awful pro-hunting, anti-Bambi (and anti-animal lovers) survival drama masked as a sweet fantasy film about friendship. And then it was 4 years before Disney would try to continue their new brand of Reagen-love / America-hate with a treatise on graphic violence (the original version of the film - which has never been seen by the public - was considered, even by studio heads, as too violent for family audiences) with 1985's, surprisingly good, The Black Cauldron.

Cauldron was the first film to really say that Disney had a new style they were aching to show off. The film was so modern, it was practically unrecognizable as a Disney film. Though it was swimming in fantasy elements, the old magic was gone. If Fox wasn't the death knell of old-school Disney, than the combination of 1983's Mickey's Christmas Carol and 1986's horrendous, freakishly low-budget sequel to The Parent Trap are the last nails in Walt's personal coffin. Illogical and simple was in, complex (if you, like me, would be libel to affix anything Disney ever did with that label), tonally elegant, and truly otherworldly (you're going to get mighty sick of hearing that word if you stick around) was out, out, out. At least so far as Disney were concerned. There was a new game in town.

His name was Don Bluth, and his heart-breaking 1982 masterpiece for MGM (aka- United Artists), The Secret of NIHM not only set a standard in animation but in terms of drama and tragedy, beat the living hell out of Disney's Fox (and, if truth be told, their overrated 1942 classic, Bambi). You could say that after this, a competition started. Disney immediately tried to steal Bluth's radical edge with Cauldron and the film failed at the box office almost as badly as 1940's Fantasia did in the classic era. At this time, the studio had been undergoing savage reconstruction in the executive department and Disney acquired their own political anti-christ: Michael Eisner. The guy who decided that Disney should offer VHS's of their classic entertainment for only a few months and then, toss them hatefully into "The Vault," never to be seen again... until he thought a few more bucks could be made off them.

Bluth was teamed up with Spielberg at that point (a far more generous and good-hearted executive force in Hollywood than Disney's corporate thugs) and in 1986, he and Disney went head-to-head for Best Mouse Film. Both had an entry: Bluth and co(.) had An American Tail and Disney had The Great Mouse Detective. Guess who won. The same person who won the following competition in 1988: Bluth's The Land Before Time and Disney's Oliver & Company. Here's a hint: which films spawned sequels? As a matter of fact, until The Little Mermaid mammothly crushed Bluth's All Dogs Go to Heaven, the 80's were such a hard time for Disney's animation that the executive brass were actually going to shut Disney Animation down entirely (if Mermaid didn't perform well)... Wait; let me give you a second to process that. No more Disney animation.

The end to that unfinished sentence was: Disney was in such dire straights that they were really only being kept afloat by the theme parks, merchandise, and The Disney Channel. Cartoon shows (Gummi Bears, DuckTales, Rescue Rangers, TaleSpin, Darkwing Duck), the occasional exciting TV-debuted animated film (The Brave Little Toaster), and a parade of goofy live-action people-in-costumes shows (namely; Dumbo's Circus, Welcome to Pooh Corner, Mousercise, and Under the Umbrella Tree - which, to show you how sorry Disney had become, well: that's not even a show they created, they just borrowed it from Canada). Of course, I have some great memories from those days (especially the two Mr. Boogedy films, which I know Steve has never seen- and perhaps has never heard of), but... Poor Disney.

Not that Disney saw it that way. They were still raking it in. They had just become so evil (due to Eisner's new Rape & Pillage school of business ethics), that they were ready to slash the hell out of any department they thought weren't pulling in their share of the family fortune. Well, as legend goes, we know how it all ended. It sure wasn't Mermaid's failure (since it didn't) or Bluth's 80's winning streak that ended Disney animation- but the new millennium CG domination of DreamWorks. In the meantime, the 80's and the bastard opportunists it gave dynasties to were draining the life out of Disney- not to mention the magic. Enter (or: rewind back to) 1988's Oliver & Company. Disney's animal street-gang film. A story about the underdogs (no pun), the value of teamwork, the oppression upon the poor by the mafia, the importance of trust, the sad feeling of being abandoned, reminding audiences that even homeless thieves have hearts, how to hot-wire cars, that muts shouldn't strut like showgirls, little girls don't have to clean up their own messes, cats actually stay put long enough for people to notice them...

Don't let the poor rating above fool you- Oliver is not a poor film. It's just average (*snick snick*). The reason why could be any number of things. Like how dated it is. I say that meaning any film this goody-goody is likely to become sorrily dated right out of the box. The film's reference to hip-hop is too late for the breakdance craze and too mellow to predict LL Cool J's smitten-ce in pop culture (he had already begun work on his hardcore followup to 1987's softside-revealing track "I Need Love" with 1989's Walking with a Panter album). Hilariously enough- it's also too tame for white rappers, The Beastie Boys. Billy Joel's reputation in New York City was that of an old-reliable. Not as someone who middle America would think had his finger on the pulse of the city. Same with showtune queen, Bette Midler (and man, I hate "Wind Beneath My Wings").

Oliver & Company is a symphony of pointlessness. There isn't a thing about it that is fully-formed or satisfying, save for perhaps 2 of the 4 or so musical sequences. It's an unfinished stew in which elements were carelessly thrown in with the hopes that they will get the audience to react in favor. A few of them do work though most don't. The story as you can imagine is a wash. The characters are basic archetypes at best and not the slightest interesting. But, a couple of the actors give the film some life (pretty much just the spastic Cheech Marin as a bouncy chihuahua and Midler as an uppity, scheming, posh Park Avenue poodle). The animation is not likely to grab you at all- though, some of the computer FX are pretty cool. Especially the final chase over the Brooklyn Bridge (though it's no blimp over the Golden Gate Bridge finale in the 007 flick, A View to a Kill).

Basically, what Disney became in the 80's was: "quirky" casts of characters all spouting one-liners. This film is obviously the greatest victim, since the members of Dodger's street gang have their own lame personalities (big dog Einstein is slow-witted, chubby dog Francis is fancy and speaks in poetic verse, tiny dog Tito is a spunky Latino with cliched bandana and jokes about him being dirty, girl dog Rita is clearly the sweet and sassy, young-motherly black woman (voiced by Sheryl Lee Ralph who later would play Lauryn Hill's mother in Touchstone's Sister Act 2: Back in the Habit), and all-American Dodger is - get this - a sports fan) with designated character-oriented cracks. The only even potentially amusing one is Tito's "if this is torture, chain me to the wall." I actually thought it was a playful reference to S&M (HA! No, more like Cuban hostage situations, middle-Eastern jails, etc).

Since Disney have long-since prided themselves on story quality, it's worth taking them to task for how boring this stuff is. I'm not the only one who finds this a weaker classic. I'm not sure many people could have come in and been able to do much with the material. Jenny, the sad little girl with no one to love her (except the too-nice, like one of those Miss Bliss or Mr. Feeney type TV teachers rather than a butler) is far too bland. I did sort of think that she should talk about her parents a little more. When she has to tell them on the phone that she's already fostered a home for an orphaned kitten, she just shouts to butler Winston- "they said I can keep him." Anyway, I could go on about how I would make my own Oliver movie but... I wouldn't. A Disney movie about a tough (but lovable) dog gang? We all know Disney can't do realistic - and it's better when they don't try to be.