Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) ***

Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) holds a special place in my heart, as it was the first film my mother ever took me to see.  Mind you, I saw it in re-issue, and only after I was so frightened by the newspaper advertisement for Charlotte’s Web (1973, also in re-issue) that I refused to see a film with a menacing-looking spider. In retrospect, I now know that I saw the more frightening of the two.  As a child it was easy to adore the dwarfs and to idolize the beautiful Snow White. As an adult, however, I find many troubling elements.

While I’ve always been a fan of the Magic Mirror—he was the thing I most looked forward to on Disney Sunday nights—he was ultra-creepy in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. So, anytime I watch the movie it’s unnerving to see my beloved Mirror sell Snow White (Adrianna Caselotti) out to Queen Grimhilde (Lucille La Verne). I know it’s a small thing, but it’s sort of like watching Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck) play evil Nazi Dr. Josef Mengele in The Boys from Brazil (1978)—something just isn’t kosher!

Then there’s the unsettling fixation of beauty that everyone in the film has—except Snow White, of course.  The Queen spends her days asking the Mirror who’s the fairest in the land, and her nights disguised as an old crone casting spells to kill her rivals.  This, obviously, does not send a positive message to young girls in a culture fixated on their outward appearances.  Ordering the execution of your step-daughter because she has surpassed your beauty seemed ridiculous in 1937, but today it doesn’t seem so far-fetched when beauty queens and cheerleaders have plotted to kill their rivals.  The dwarfs get in the act, too, by allowing Snow White’s beauty to endanger their lives and to put them out of their beds. Really, in what world should seven miners (don’t let their ‘happy’ singing of “Heigh-Ho” fool you, they did back-breaking work) give up their bed for one woman?  Why? Because Heigh HOE she was a good-looking woman.  Bad message…

Oh, and then there’s the carnivorous slavery issue—not so much Snow White, but the forest animals.  After her foray into the creepy woods after the Woodsman (Stuart Buchanan) told her to run for her life, Snow White befriends a whole host of adorable animals.  Not long after this she puts them to work cleaning the dwarfs’ scuzzy cottage so she can live there.  Yes, they hung out with her in the day, but at what price?  Snow White was the dwarfs’ cook, right?  I ask you this: did the Dwarfs look like vegans to you?  I‘m sure having animal ‘friends’ came in handy for her…

Finally, after Snow White ate the poisoned apple and succumbed to the ‘Sleeping Death’ spell, who was it that built her that gold and glass coffin and sat in constant vigil?  Prince Charming?  No, it was the seven dwarfs. Yet, as soon as the handsome prince came and broke the spell with a kiss, Snow White was waving goodbye and riding off into the sunset on his white horse. What message does that send?  Bald dwarfs, no matter how devoted, just can’t compare to tall, handsome princes?  As such, now countless women dream of the day when their princes will come and take them away from housework and less-attractive men. Hmmm…

Still, in all seriousness, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is a delightful film.  As the first feature-length animated movie, it is historically significant. It launched Walt Disney as one of the most important (and bankable) film companies, too.  What they did with animation in 1937 has to be admired as well.  For several children, like myself, it has served as an introduction to the amazing worlds that cinema can create. Even if I give it a hard time as an adult, that does not minimize the lasting memory that it created for me back in 1975, when my mother took me to see my very first movie. 

Pinocchio (1940) **

When your favorite character in a film doesn’t have one line then you know you just weren’t that enthralled.  Such was the case with Walt Disney Pinocchio (1940), where I much preferred Figaro the cat to every other animated being in it.  Plus, the story, by today’s standards, is just too pedophilic for me: single, old man builds a boy puppet and wishes that it were a real boy and then a fairy grants his wish.  I’ve obviously been irrevocably scarred by the times in which we live, but did they really have to call the amusement park where the stupid, bad boys are taken Pleasure Island? 

Walt Disney’ second foray into fairy-tale themed feature-length animation was based on Carlo Collodi’s 1880s novel, The Adventures of Pinocchio.  Gepppetto (Christian Rub) is a lonely wood carver who lives alone with his cat, Figaro, and his goldfish, Cleo. One night after putting the finishing touches on a puppet he makes a wish upon a star that the puppet become a real boy.  After Geppetto falls off to sleep a fairy (Evelyn Venable) visits the cottage and partially grants his wish. From the fairy dust emerges Pinocchio (Dickie Jones), a living puppet who must earn human status by being “brave, truthful and unselfish and able to tell right from wrong”. He is assigned a conscience—a cricket named Jiminy Cricket (Cliff Edwards), who sounds and looks like Fred Astaire.  His Odyssian (my word!) quest for boyhood and knowing the difference between right or wrong finds him: duped by a fox named Honest John (Walter Catlett); kidnapped by a money-hungry marionette manipulator (Charles Judels); taken to a den of childhood sin by a man who wants to turn him into a jackass for the salt mines; and, swallowed in the belly of a sperm whale appropriately named Monstro. In the words of Dorothy Gale, “"Oh! Oh! Jiminy Crickets!"

Let’s get the important things out of the way—the animation (for 1940) is spectacular.  From the intricacies of the cuckoo clocks to the ethereal quality of the Blue Fairy, the animation set the bar quite high for future films.  Compared to what we see today it might seem a bit crude, but effects animation (focused on movement, not on character) was a burgeoning art form and abstract animators like Oskar Fischinger did some amazing work in Pinocchio: the rainstorm, the fairy’s dust from the wand, and the entire sea/whale sequence are standouts in effects animation.

Now, I’m not a psychologist and/or a Freudian, but I wonder what Freud would have made of Pinocchio had he lived long enough to see it.  Let’s get past the Geppetto issue and look at some other elements that make the film suspect.  Pinocchio is made of wood. When he gets excited his nose grows and it looks like a phallus. Honest John looks and sounds like a pimp. Pinocchio is locked in a cage by Stromboli until he needs to use him again.  At Pleasure Island they ply the boys with candy, cigarettes/cigars, and booze.  The whale that he must enter to save Geppetto is a sperm whale. Do you see where I’m going here?  Ah, if only I were still an innocent child I might be capable of not reading too much into such things! 

Overall, Pinocchio should be recognized for its revolutionary animation contributions. Figaro is adorable and Jiminy Cricket’s “When You Wish Upon a Star” is memorable. Personally, the story does nothing for me other than creep the hell out of me.  Having reviewed three Disney films now (Fantasia and Dumbo are the others) I’ve come to the uncomfortable conclusion that adults should not revisit the beloved films of their childhood. 

Fantasia (1940) **1/2

Mushrooms, fairy dust, nudity, intoxication, murder, witchcraft, and satanism are not words that pop to mind when someone mentions Walt Disney.  Yet, all of these elements appear in Disney’s Fantasia (1940). Ah, but there’s more—it’s an experimental, stereophonic movie, too.  I can’t imagine that many children (then and now) are pleased to learn that Mickey Mouse is only in the film for a few minutes and then the rest is music, music, music—and, worse yet, classical music!  Thankfully, I am not a child, and so I have a slight fondness for this revolutionary piece of cinema.

Ben Sharpsteen was the supervising director of this massive project. He worked with ten others directors and over sixty animators, not to mention conductor Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra, to create a film so unlike anything the movie-going public had ever seen that some didn’t know how to react.  Pauline Kael called it “grotesquely kitschy”, while Bosley Crowther observed that “Fantasia dumps conventional formulas overboard and reveals the scope of films for imaginative excursion”. I can see both Kael and Crowther’s points, but I tend to side more with Crowther.  For me, Fantasia is an artistic visual interpretation of the power of classical music.

The film is broken into eight segments, each set to a specific classical music piece.  While I could have done without Deems Taylor as the master of ceremonies, I know that some viewers needed his introductory comments.  Plus, some of the background information he provided was somewhat interesting.

The first section of the film is set to Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor and is perhaps the most abstract of the eight segments.  I don’t know if I would have started off like this, as it might have been too disorienting for some. Still, I love this piece of music and I enjoyed it being used in such an unusual way.  The second part is a reinterpretation of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite, with an emphasis on the changing of the seasons. On display are such things as fairy dust and dancing mushrooms—friends of hallucinogens rejoice!  I find these two sections delightful and a nice way to begin the program.

And, then comes Mickey Mouse as the Sorcerer’s Apprentice in the third act.  This is probably the most famous part of the film, but in reality it is the least imaginative.  Somehow composer Paul Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice doesn’t have the same power as the works of the other composers featured. The final section before the intermission is my least favorite. Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring is used to exhibit the earth’s creation and the early life forms that evolved from it.  I expect this was the most controversial part of the movie—saying the earth was billions of years old and that something crawled up out of the sea could be a problem for Bible literalists.  What I don’t particularly like about it is I don’t think the music fits the images presented.  For me, these are the two weakest sections of Fantasia.

The intermission serves as the fifth segment, but it really isn’t anything more than a quick music tutorial about what instrument sounds like what.  The sixth section is usually the most divisive.  Set to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, it takes place on Mount Olympus and we see colorful mythological creatures cavorting with one another.  I expect this is where Kael found the adjective ‘kitschy’, and, it is, but it is also a fun interpretation of Beethoven’s work.  I am especially fond of the Iris section and the covering of night section.  Ponchielli’s Dance of the Hours is perhaps the most well regarded part of Fantasia. Hippos in tutus paired with vampire-esque alligators are inspired choices for a retelling of an Inquisition-based ballet.

Yet, of all of the sections of the film, the last is my favorite.  I love dark Russian composers and I think Modest Mussorgsky is one of the best. His Night on Bald Mountain is both hypnotically eerie and thrillingly exciting, and when paired with Schubert’s Ave Marie, a wonderful dichotomy of the sacred and the profane is expressed. Many viewers have said this part of the film is the one that stays with them the longest—some because it gave them nightmares! For me, I always play Night on Bald Mountain at my Halloween celebration because it is the perfect choice for the night of lost souls.  The animation fits splendidly with Mussorgsky’s music.

Overall, I enjoy watching Fantasia. The film is uneven at times, but that is to be expected when so many directors are involved.  What makes this movie special is its artistry and  innovation.  However, this is not a film that everyone will enjoy—most notably children and adults with short attention spans.

Dumbo (1941) **

Have you ever watched a film as a child and then later as an adult?  What your childhood memory usually holds for you is not exactly a full representation.  Upon adult reintroduction you notice all sorts of things that just flew right over your kiddie head.  This is what recently happened to me while watching the Walt Disney animated classic, Dumbo (1941).  Who knew a Disney film could have so much debauchery!

If you have a child, know a child, or once were a child yourself, you no doubt have seen Dumbo.  Yet, as I believe it is possible that aliens walk amongst us, let me do a quick synopsis. Dumbo is a baby elephant who has inordinately large ears which make him both clumsy and the object of ridicule.  When his mother is locked up for trying to protect him, Dumbo finds himself shunned by the other elephants. His only friend in the world is a mouse named Timothy who is always trying to find ways to make Dumbo a star. Reduced to the ultimate humiliation of becoming a clown, Dumbo’s redemption is found in the most unlikely place—his ears! At this point, aliens, if you want to know the rest you’ll have to watch the film—world domination will have to wait for 60 minutes.

Now, let’s talk about the wickedness of the movie.  Am I the only one whose mind just jumped into the gutter when Timothy overhears the circus owners discussing how they need a climax for the show and Tim yells, “You’re a climax , Dumbo!”  Here we have a film that begins with storks delivering animal babies and a train that chants “I think I can” when going up hills and steaming through tunnels, and soon thereafter we have characters screaming they need a climax. I read in the credits that Ben Sharpsteen was the director, but by this scene I thought it was a Lubitsch film!

And then there is the uber-famous “Pink Elephants on Parade” sequence—when did drunken hallucinations become a common Disney theme?  First, they have the clowns tearing into the hooch (by the way, isn’t this a stereotype?), and then they have Dumbo and Timothy inebriated and seeing dancing pink elephants!  If the film had been made 20 years later I would have sworn there was LSD in that bucket of booze. Psychedelic colors, hallucinogenic images—it was a hippie fest before there were hippies.  Oliver Wallace and Ned Washington even wrote a tripped-out song for the sequence, with lyrics like:

Look out! Look out!
They're walking around the bed
On their head
Clippety cloppety
Arrayed in braid
Pink elephants on parade
What'll I do? What'll I do?
What an unusual view!
I could stand the sight of worms
And look at microscopic germs
But Technicolor pachyderms
Is really much for me

Is this really a positive message to send to children?  Oh, but how many adults really knew (some very personally) what Disney was trying to say: recapture your youth and have a big glass of gin after you put your kid to bed!  Thankfully, I have no children, so I’ve never been asked to explain why Dumbo and Tim were blowing bubbles and seeing creepy pink elephants; yet, I wouldn’t have minded hearing such an explanation being given. 

Another wicked thing about the film, at least I have been told, is the crow scene.  Some say it was racial stereotyping to have black crows singing a song that was reminiscent of a minstrel show. Granted, naming the head crow Jim Crow was not an Einstein moment, but the last time I checked most crows are black. In addition, the crows were played by African American men from the Hall Johnson choir, so I don’t know that this equates to stereotyping. Now, if they had Bing Crosby singing the track in blackface there might be an issue, but I didn’t find anything shocking about black men singing “When I See an Elephant Fly”.  As I stated above, if anyone has a grievance against Disney about stereotyping it’s the clowns! I have it on high authority that not all clowns are drunkards—just the ones my parents would hire for birthday parties were, or so my mother says. 

And, finally, the last wicked thing is that magic feather. Why was it black?  Was Disney encouraging children to dabble in the black arts, “Light as a feather, stiff as a board…” Is this how this creepy slumber party “game” got its start? 

Hopefully, after reading this analysis you too will give Dumbo a new viewing. Perhaps you will gain a new appreciation for the wonderful world of Disney, too.