The Magic of Disney Animation, Part IV: A New Style or, The Nine Old Men Carry On . . .

"The Nine Old Men"
(l-r) Milt Kahl, Wolfgang Reitherman, Mark Davis, Les Clark, Frank Thomas,
Ward Kimbell, Eric Larson, John Lounsbery, and Ollie Johnson

Entering into the 1960s, Walt Disney continued wearing multiple hats when it came to the many different aspects of entertainment he was involved in. By this time, he was a pioneer in theme park attractions (Walt Disney World had been completed and opened to the public by the mid-1950s), a producer of television programs and live-action feature films, and a conceptual innovator of many new technological innovations (such as animatronic puppets at Disney World). By the mid-1960s, he was planning a secret property in Florida, aptly named "The Florida Project."

As for the animation department, Walt had been less involved in recent years than he had been since the late 1920s and early 1930s, as animator Frank Thomas describes in the extraordinary 1995 documentary, Frank & Ollie. Though he still produced the features that came out of the division, Walt had entrusted these projects to his core group of animators, which he called the "Nine Old Men."

They included Les Clark (an expert animator who had been with Walt and company since the "Silly Symphonies" of the late-1920s), Marc Davis (who could craft both heroines and villainesses, like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty's Aurora and Maleficent), Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson (two of, perhaps, the most sincere of all nine animators, whose real-life friendship helped influence their work), Milt Kahl (probably the most disciplined draftsman of them all), Ward Kimball (who excelled with zany, loose, or off-the-wall characters, like the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland and Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio), Eric Larson (who had also been with Walt and company since the 1930s, and who later passed on the department's legacy to the next generation of animators), John Lounsbery (an expert at exploring various facets of a character, like Ben Ali the dancing alligator in Fantasia and Tony the chef in Lady and the Tramp), and Wolfgang Reitherman (an expert in battle sequences, like the chase with Monstro the whale in Pinocchio or the dragon fight in Sleeping Beauty).

1961's 101 Dalmatians

"Fifteen Spotted Puddles Stolen? Oh, balderdash."
By the early 1960s, the staff at Disney Animation had reduced. Sleeping Beauty had lost money at the box-office in 1959, and Walt had to figure out a way to cut production costs, even as there was talk of closing down the animation department. Many had thought, "Why bother with animation, Walt? You've got all this other business with the theme parks and television and live-action movies."

One must remember that animation is what made Walt and company such a success and milestone in the first place, since Mickey Mouse premiered in the late-1920s and especially since Snow White in the late-1930s. So it made sense to continue in that medium.

One thing that helped their next feature (an adaptation of Dodie Smith's 1956 children's book "The Hundred and One Dalmatians") was a photocopying technology known as Xerography (or, Xerox). This process was invented by studio veteran Ub Iwerks (who also animated Mickey Mouse in 1928's Steamboat Willie, and pioneered the multiplane camera technology since the 1930s) allowed animators to photocopy their animated cels, instead of going through the extra expense of being refined and perfectly outline by ink and paint artists (many of whom were laid off at the time). This new process--and new style of a scratchy, hard-edged look, subsequently used for every Disney animated feature until the 1980s--allowed animators to see their work on the screen just as they had created it at their desks. Some would consider this a lazy approach. Others (especially Walt himself, sadly) disliked it, having missed the "romantic" look of previous features like Snow White, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. The animators themselves saw it as a testament to the "magic" of their work, as well as fresh and exciting.

The process did, in fact, cut the production costs in half, considering the visual complexity of animating several spots on hundreds of canine characters. Famed "Looney Tunes" animator Chuck Jones once said that only Walt Disney could make a film called "One Hundred and One Dalmatians." Said Jones, "If I had tried to make One Dog Named Spot for [then Warner Bros. producer] Leon Schlesinger, he would not let me do it. Spots cost money." It also became one of the studio's most successful hits, and (adjusted for inflation) currently stands as the second highest-grossing animated film in history. But it wasn't the technological transition or style alone that made it such an endearing hit.

Studio veteran Bill Peet had become Disney's head of story by this time, and the one who (amazingly) storyboarded the entire movie himself. Since the 1940s, he had contributed many story ideas for films like Fantasia, Dumbo, and Cinderella. He would go on to storyboard 1963's The Sword in the Stone and an early version of 1967's The Jungle Book before leaving the studio in 1964 after an apparent falling out with Walt. (He did go on to have a successful career as a childrens' book author.) For 101 Dalmatians, he had kept in touch with author Dodie Smith, sharing sketches of his ideas. Smith, in turn, felt that Peet and the Disney studio had improved her story. And Peet's commitment really shows.

1963's The Sword in the Stone

The amazing thing about 101 Dalmatians is how much story is told in it's nearly-90-minute runtime, and yet how simple and universal (not to mention contemporary) it is. This is perhaps the first time since Bambi where characters don't break out into song (with the exception of the catchy "Cruella DeVil"); although music is incorporated into the story (especially in the creative opening credit sequence). Instead, characters are shown doing regular, contemporary activities and attitudes that were commonplace and groundbreaking in the 1960s. They play music. They sit down and drink coffee. They watch television as a family.

And if you look and listen real closely, you'll see a story that transitions from the meetings of two single couples to the creation of a family, to the intrusion of an adversary who wants part of that family for her own wealth and lifestyle (the character of Cruella DeVil is both flamboyant and outrageous, as well as a final showcase for animator Marc Davis), to the daring rescue mission that wouldn't be possible without the support and service of others (hence, the "Twilight Bark" sequence, which features cameos from Lady and the Tramp characters), to the adventure and perilous journey to get everybody back home, even welcoming others without a home. If that's not interesting enough, there's even a change of each season throughout the story. The film takes its time, but it all pays off and proves surprisingly universal and artful, as well as an amazing story of community and family.

"For every high, there us a low / For every to, there is a fro" 
The studio's next feature, 1961's The Sword and the Stone, wasn't one of their most well-received. As a loose and zany adaptation of the legend of King Arthur, this story of the future ruler of England as a boy (named "Wart") and his friendship and tutelage from the wizard Merlin felt "weak" and lacking in depth. It is, however, remembered for two things. There's the unforgettable image of Wart retrieving the titular sword. And many animation historians have singled out one sequence as one of the best examples of character animation on film: the "Wizard's Duel" between Merlin and the conniving Madame Mim, who shape-shift into different animals to outdo one another, all while retaining their distinct personalities.

On a more underappreciated note, The Sword in the Stone was the first Disney film with music by the Sherman Brothers, Richard and Robert, the songwriting team who would create many unforgettable tunes for the studio, including "It's A Small World," "Winnie the Pooh," and the music for 1964's Mary Poppins. Many consider this latter film to be the crowning achievement of Walt Disney's filmmaking career, thanks in part to its charming live-action/animated sequence, the joy of Julie Andrews' performance as the titular magical nanny, and the Sherman's wonderful songs, including the Oscar-winning "Chim Chim Cheree". (Andrews won a Best Actress Oscar for her performance as well.) This was also the first and only time a film personally produced by Walt or the studio was awarded a Best Picture Oscar by the Academy. (He had won an honorary statue for Snow White, along with seven little trophies.) This feat wouldn't be achieved again until 1989's Dead Poet's Society and especially 1991's Beauty and the Beast.

1967's The Jungle Book

"I Wanna Be Like You"
For the studio's next animated feature, Walt decided to become more hands-on than he had been in recent years. Based on Rudyard Kipling's acclaimed novel "The Jungle Book," Walt disregarded Bill Peet's initial work and encouraged his team of animators and writers (including story artist Floyd Norman) to go in a different direction, focusing instead on the characters and their personalities (something he had strived for since the 1930s as well, as animators Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson agreed).

While the final film retains the names of Kipling's original characters and Indian jungle settings, and despite the many story liberties it takes (and there are a lot of them), the heart of all of those elements are in the right place. Furthermore, many Disney animators of the 1980s and 1990s have said that the character animation in The Jungle Book is what made them pursue careers in their respective fields. From the smooth walks and runs of Baghera the panther to the coiling schemes of Kaa the hypnotic snake, to the thumping military marches and weight of Col. Hathi and his army of elephants, to the loose boogie dancing from King Louis the orangutan and his band of apes ("I Wanna Be Like You" is the most fun tune in the whole film), to the powerful presence of the villainous tiger Shere Kahn, to the barbershop quartet of vultures, to the genuine friendship between Mowgli the man-cub and Baloo the bear. The result is an impeccable and unsurpassed blend of character personalities, comedy, drama, lush backgrounds, and the Sherman's music. This was also the first time where characters were partly inspired by the actors who voiced them (predating Robin Williams' game-changing work as the Genie in 1992's Aladdin, and subsequent animated films from that decade on).

While the story is episodic, it does showcase many worthwhile themes as well. Themes of friendship (which were very much reflected by animators Thomas and Johnson, who reportedly animated roughly half of the movie). Themes of what is good in life, and yet recognizing what's good for others and their well-being over ourselves. Themes of courage. Themes of adventure.

The Jungle Book ended up being the last animated feature personally supervised by Walt Disney, who sadly passed away in December of 1966 during its production. Even before the film was released in October of 1967, the remaining head animators questioned whether the film would be successful without Walt's involvement. Like Cinderella and 101 Dalmatians before it, had The Jungle Book failed, the animation department would have been done for. But like those features, it proved a hit with critics and audiences, and encouraged the animation department to carry on the legacy of their mentor.

Disney Animation's filmography from 1967-1977

Carrying On, and Passing the Baton 
Before his passing, Walt had appointed animator Wolfgang Reitherman as the supervising director of the animation department at the studio, while Frank Thomas, Ollie Johnson, Milt Kahl, and company supervised the animation. Their next feature, 1970s The AristoCats, was the last feature to get the nod from Walt himself. It follows a family of wealthy cats in early-1910s France, who are kidnapped and left in the countryside by their greedy butler Edgar (a brilliant showcase of character animation by Kahl). They soon get help from a smooth-talking alley cat named Thomas O'Malley, as well as a gang of jazz-loving felines, to find their way home.

In the fascinating 2009 documentary Waking Sleeping Beauty, narrator (and Disney veteran producer) Don Hahn described this as a period where the studio "made sweet, harmless animated comedies for kids." Nowhere is that better suited than with The AristoCats, which is nevertheless a charming and entertaining story. Plus, its songs by the Sherman Brothers (including "Scales and Arpeggios") are an equal delight.

1973's Robin Hood was sort of a different story. On one hand, it creatively took the famous rogue (originated on the silver screen by Douglas Fairbanks in the 1920s), who "robbed from the rich and gave to the poor," and made him a fox in a world of anthropomorphic animals. On the other hand, the movie is notorious for recycling animation from previous Disney films, with the main culprit being the dance sequence that reuses animation all the way back from Snow White. They even went so far as "casting" Baloo from The Jungle Book in the role of Robin's trusty sidekick, Little John (which I have no problem with, to be honest. I mean, who doesn't love hearing Phil Harris's voice?) In spite of those elements, the movie does have terrific comedy and humor, including scene-stealing characters in Lady Cluck, Prince John, Sir Hiss, and the Sheriff of Nottingham.

In the mean time, the studio released their first "packaged" feature since 1949's Ichabod and Mr. Toad. 1977's The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh was a collection of short films based on the beloved books and characters first created by author A.A. Milne and illustrator E.H. Shepard in England in 1924. Beginning with 1966's The Honey Tree (the only Pooh short Walt Disney saw before his passing) and continuing with 1968's Oscar-winning The Blustery Day (the best of them all) and 1974's Tigger, Too, these charming short features helped make Milne and Shepard's creations a national treasure and household name outside of Europe.

1977's The Rescuers

By the end of the decade, only two of the "Nine Old Men" had passed away (Lounsbery in 1976 and Clark in 1979), while most of the remaining members headed one of the first programs in character animation at the California Institute of the Arts (or, CalArts) to train new, up-and-coming animators on the basics and fundamentals of the medium. Most of these veterans would retire by the early 1980s but would contribute to subsequent features as consultants. As mentioned above, Larson was the most passionate in training the next generation. Many of the new starts had opportunities to make their own short films, and even contributed to feature films, such as 1977's The Rescuers.

Animators Johnson and Thomas consider this adaptation of Margery Sharp's childrens' books "The Rescuers" and "Miss Bianca" as their favorite film without Walt Disney, as they believe it had the most pathos and character investment of all the films made since then. And their work (including animation on the titular characters Bernard and Bianca, Rufus the orphanage cat, as well as Kahl's final expert work on the villainous Medusa) really shows. The story follows two "Rescue Aid Society" mice as they search for a missing girl, named Penny, and save her from the clutches of a diamond-seeking pawn-shop owner.

And to think this all happened, as Merlin referred to in The Sword in the Stone, during a "dark age" for the Disney studio.