The Magic of Disney Animation, Part V: Renaissance Men--Out of the Sea

CalArts Class of 1975.

Passing the Baton Through Dark Ages
By the early 1980s, most of the "Nine Old Men" had retired. Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson had released their 1981 book, "The Illusion of Life," by then, which is considered by many as the definitive guide on the history and craft of Disney animation. In the mean time, a new generation of animators and artists were learning their craft from the masters themselves at CalArts in the 1970s.

Some of them got their start making short films, while others immediately got to contribute to some of the animated features of that decade. Some of them, on the other hand, were eventually let go by the studio for different reasons at the time (like Tim Burton, for his obscure and dark style in his short films Vincent and Frankenweenie; and John Lassetter, for his ambitions to incorporate computer animation into feature films after seeing 1982's TRON), yet went on to have successful careers as directors in their own right.

Others, however, felt the animation division wasn't on par with the "Golden Age" of the 1930s and 1940s, and wanted to return to that style and legacy. (It may be fair to say that the studio had been in something of a downward spiral for several years by this point.) The most famous example of this group was Don Bluth. Having been an assistant animator on films like Sleeping Beauty and The Sword in the Stone, he served as a directing animator on The Rescuers and Pete's Dragon (both released in 1977) before he and several other animators left the studio in 1979 to form their own company--and even competed with Disney at the box-office throughout the following decade.

1981's The Fox and the Hound

Bluth and company (known by the press as "the Disney Defectors") had been working on the studio's next animated feature, The Fox and the Hound, and their leaving caused the film's initial release date to be pushed back by six months. (It was finally released in the summer of 1981.) On the other hand, this film represented the last contributions from Thomas, Johnson, and Wolfgang Reitherman, on a Disney animated feature. (Eric Larson did serve as a consultant on other features in the decade until his death in 1988.) But The Fox and the Hound represented a "passing of the baton" onto the next generation. Some of these up-and-coming artists included Chris Buck, Randy Cartwright, Ron Clements, Mark Henn, Glen Keane, and John Musker.

The story follows a young fox and a hound dog pup who form a friendship and are later tested by the pressures of society and nature. Themes of bigotry and prejudice are woven throughout the film, but always handled in the most subtle and dramatic way. It received mixed reviews upon release, but has subsequently become regarded as an underappreciated classic, recalling the dramatic intensity of Bambi and the like. It may be too intense for young viewers, on the other hand, what with its strong themes and scenes of violent nature (including a climactic and memorable bear fight). But that's nothing compared to the studio's next animated feature.

New Management and a Post-Production Overhaul
In 1984, management at the Disney Studio had changed, with the replacement of then-CEO Ron Miller (son-in-law of Walt Disney) with former Paramount Pictures head Michael Eisner (as Chairman and Chief Executive Officer) and former Warner Bros head Frank Wells (as President and Chief Operating Officer), as well as Paramount's Jeffrey Katzenberg to head Disney's film division (as Chairman), Roy E. Disney (nephew of Walt) to oversea the Feature Animation department (as Vice Chairman), and Peter Schneider as president of Feature Animation. The company's expansion of the Disney theme parks continued, with the openings of Disneyland Tokyo and Disney-MGM Studios in 1983 and 1989, respectfully, while the establishment of the Touchstone Pictures banner expanded the company's feature film division to more adult-oriented films, like 1984's Splash (starring Daryl Hannah as a mermaid) and 1988's landmark Who Framed Roger Rabbit (a live-action/animated hybrid that many credit as the film that reignited peoples' interest in and excitement for animation). The advent of videotapes became another enterprise as many of the "classic" film were released on home video for the first time, and led executives to seek new titles and ideas from current artists and filmmakers.

1985's The Black Cauldron

By the mid-Eighties, the animation department had been at work for several years on an ambitious adaptation of Lloyd Alexander''s five-part fantasy book series, "The Chronicles of Prydain," going back to the Seventies when Ollie Johnson and Frank Thomas suggested it could make an amazing film if done properly. The film, renamed The Black Cauldron, would mark many firsts for the studio, along with being the most expensive animated movie at the time. It was their first non-musical in years, instead focusing on an action-adventure story to capitalize on the blockbuster hits that audiences were into at the time (i.e., Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark). It was the first (and only other) time they utilized the 70mm Technirama widescreen scope since 1959's Sleeping Beauty, along with a six-track Dolby digital sound system. And it was the first feature that many Disney animators of the Nineties worked on at the studio, including Ruben A. Aquino, Andreas Deja, and Rob Minkoff.  The company had even changed their studio logo from "Walt Disney Productions" to "Walt Disney Pictures" with an iconic white silhouette of the Magic Kingdom castle against a bright-blue backdrop, set to a variation of "When You Wish Upon A Star."

The Black Cauldron also became the first animated Disney film to receive a PG-rating. But it almost would have likely received a higher rating, if not for some last minute edits. The story follows a trio of medieval characters (a farm boy, a princess, and a minstrel) on a quest to stop and evil king from destroying their kingdom with a magical cauldron, hence the film's title. What they encounter proved too "violent and scary" for audiences at the time. Katzenberg, who was appalled by much of the violent footage upon a test screening, insisted it be cut from the film. The controversial move pushed the film's initial 1984 release date by six months, as well as the eventual layoff of some of the filmmakers involved.

The Black Cauldron is, at times, technically dazzling and full of a few standout characters, including Hed Wen the mystical pig, Gergei the mischievous creature (whose voice may have inspired Andy Serkis's version of Gollum in The Lord of the Rings years later), and the villainous Horned King (voiced by the late John Hurt). But it proved a huge financial disappointment for the studio, as well as a missed opportunity. Although it has its fans nowadays, The Black Cauldron lacks the pathos and story investment (and coherence) it should've had. And that was an issue that the animators and filmmakers made sure to correct on the next feature.

(l-r) Peter Schnieder, Roy E. Disney, and Jeffrey Katzenberg
at the Walt Disney Studios in the 1980s

"Elementary, My Dear Dawson."
When Eisner and Katzenberg started at the studio, the first feature they were pitched was a detective story called "Basil of Baker Street," based on the book by Eve Titus. (Imagine if Sherlock Holmes was a mouse.) Co-writer Ron Clements proposed the idea as getting back to "what Disney animation should be," as the 2009 documentary Waking Sleeping Beauty recalls through home movie footage.

"Basil of Baker Street" (later renamed The Great Mouse Detective by the marketing department, a heated debate at the time) actually has more significance to the history of Disney animation than most people give it credit for. Because The Black Cauldron lost the studio millions of dollars, faith in the Disney animation brand had reached an all-time low by then. But The Great Mouse Detective proved a respectable financial success, as well as critical hit, that the studio regained confidence in its animation department, setting the stage for greater things to come.

Centered on the clever sleuth's search for a little girl's missing father (with assistance from the Watson-like Dawson and faithful hound dog Toby) and his egocentric competition with the mastermind Ratigan, The Great Mouse Detective represented a return to form for old-fashioned and simple storytelling, with all the classic elements of engaging characters and personalities, comedy, and investment that simultaneously appealed to many children of the 1980s. And the fact that the incredible score was composed by Henri Mancini (of Pink Panther fame), and that Ratigan was voiced by none other than 20th-Century horror film icon Vincent Price, added to its visceral aesthetic. Film critic Roger Ebert believed the movie had "a freedom and creativity of animation that reminded me of the earlier Disney feature-length cartoons," and that it "looks more fully animated than anything in some 30 years."

At the same time, the film evokes a sense of adventure and mystery not seen in Disney animation since, perhaps, Ichabod Crane's encounter with the Headless Horseman in 1949's Ichabod and Mr. Toad. That being said, The Great Mouse Detective does include a few intense moments (including some jump scares from Ratigan's sidekick bat Fidget), as well as an unnecessary risque dance in a bar scene full of smoking and drinking. Those elements are unfortunate in what is otherwise a fun and entertaining film, which is also notable for being one of the first uses of computer graphics in hand-drawn feature films. Though The Black Cauldron used said graphics for specific character props, Mouse Detective's Big Ben sequence is a visual tour-de-force, and set the stage for what was to come, including the setting of New York City in their next movie.

1986's The Great Mouse Detective

"Why Should I Worry?"
Pitched as Charles Dickens' "Oliver Twist" but with dogs, 1988's Oliver & Company portrays the titular character as a naive orphaned kitten who joins a group of street-smart dogs (including the savoir-faire leader Dodger and fast-talking chihuahua Tito) and their pick-pocketing owner Fagin (the only contribution to a Disney movie from veteran voice actor and comic Dom DeLuise). The setting is changed from 19th century England to modern-day New York, as Oliver encounters everything from hot dog vendors, a sweet little girl named Penny (no connection to the 1977 movie The Rescuers, for the record), and the cold-hearted loan shark Sykes.

Released six months after Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Oliver & Company was divisive with critics. Some, like Gene Siskel, called "fragmented," while animation historian Jerry Beck (in his 2005 book, "The Animated Movie Guide") considered it "the final dress rehearsal" of Disney's animated roster before the studio really revitalized themselves at the end of the decade. In all fairness, the animation style here does seem inconsistent with the typical Disney brand. And the tone here does feel a little too harsh at times. Its animal characters, on the other hand, are very well-designed and colorful. (There are even some nice cameos from characters from Lady and the Tramp and 101 Dalmatians, for extra fun.)

Children of the Eighties have more of an appreciation for this movie, which was a box-office hit, and continued the studio's growing incorporation of computer graphics with hand-drawn animation. In this case, taxi cabs, skyscrapers, Sykes' car and Fagin's motorbike were rendered. In the mean time, superstar talents of the time, like Billy Joel (as the carefree Dodger) and Bette Midler (as the snooty, pedigreed poodle Georgette), lended their voices to give the movie a broad audience appeal. If the movie is remembered for one thing, though, it is its signature song, "Why Should I Worry," a catchy tune that encompasses the story's adventure through the Big Apple. Another lesser-known track (the Huey Lewis-sung "Once Upon A Time In New York City") was the first Disney song to be co-penned by an up-and-coming songwriter named Howard Ashman. A songwriter who would forever change the way audiences and critics thought and felt about Disney animation, beginning what would become known as the "Disney Renaissance."

1988's Oliver & Company

"Part Of Your World"
The progress that the Disney studio's Feature Animation division had been making throughout the decade had been building up to something, one way or another. And in 1989, it came in the form of a mermaid who raised her head out of the ocean and literally spoke (and sung) to a new generation.

Based on Hans Christian Andersen's classic fairy tale about a mermaid who longs to be human, The Little Mermaid became the most committed and lively feature the studio had made in so long at the time. Disney had put more resources into this feature than any other in the decade, and had the most elaborate water effects created since Fantasia and Pinocchio in 1940. (Seriously, the time they put into animating the millions of underwater bubbles alone is fascinating.) Not to mention some of the most electric and catchy songs ever written and composed in the studio's history, including the showstopping "Under the Sea" and the perfect serenade melody "Kiss the Girl".

It's also one of their most complex films, in terms of the character dynamics and relationships, adding a contemporary spin while honoring its literary and fantastical legacy. Ariel's character traits, for one thing, redefined the role of a Disney princess for a new generation. As animator Mark Henn described, while the "classic" female characters (Snow White, Cinderella, and Aurora) were "reactive," Ariel and subsequent others (Belle, Jasmine, etc.) were more "proactive," taking their own actions in their respective journeys/stories. Ariel wants more than the stuff of human life (she keeps hundreds of such items in a secret cove); she wants to really live. If one looks closely, they may find some surprising spiritual aspects in Ariel's dreams ("Up where they walk," anybody?). She also expresses universal body language when she's on land without her voice (a testament to the animation by Henn and Glen Keane).

1989's The Little Mermaid

For the sake of discerning families reading this: while Ariel is an amazing character (voiced and sung memorably by Jodi Benson), she can be rebellious, angsty, have "daddy issues" (something Jasmine from Aladdin would later have in common with her), and make questionable choices, such as instantly falling for a young man she barely knows. Plus, the subplot of her making a deal with an undersea witch where she trades her beautiful voice for human legs (the scheming Ursula is, no doubt, one of the scariest and most dynamic Disney villainesses, alongside the Queen, Maleficent, and Cruella DeVil) probably wouldn't fly well today. On the other hand, the theme of the cost of selling yourself in exchange for something else may have some cautionary undertones to it.

On that same note, the role of Prince Eric proves more than just a one-note leading man (as most iterations in previous Disney fairy tales have been the case). His intentions in waiting for the "right" girl and not just marrying for the sake of it are noble. Plus, he does demonstrate actions in sacrifice, redemption, and noble acts of love. In terms of the role of King Triton (while questionable at times as well), there's the theme in letting children grow up and allowing them to live and lead their own lives (as the scene-stealing crab Sebastian says).

Revisiting the film recently, I just marvel at the colorful and beautiful animation, the emotional arc of the story (especially the iconic "Part of Your World" motif, which was almost cut from the film a la The Wizard of Oz's "Over the Rainbow"), the unforgettably-catchy music by Ashman and Alan Menken (his first of many classic contemporary Disney scores), and thrills from its strong sound design and aforementioned underwater effects. The result is enchanting and entertaining. This also turned out to be the last hand-drawn film made by the studio the old-fashioned way, before transitioning to a digital ink-and-paint system that would redefine the look of the modern Disney feature.