Before Disney Feature Animation transitioned to making their films with the xerography process in the early 1960s (the first being 1961's 101 Dalmatians), they tested the technology on the climactic dragon fight in 1959's Sleeping Beauty. Thirty years later, The Little Mermaid did something similar. While being the last hand-drawn feature to use old-fashioned techniques of its time (specifically in terms of effects animation, such as coloring and the like), it tested a new ink-and-paint and printing system for one shot in the film.
Their next feature, 1990's The Rescuers Down Under, was the first animated film to use this process in its entirety. While backgrounds and characters were done by hand, the coloring and other aforementioned effects were done by a new program known as "Computer Animation Production System" (or, CAPS), created by a then-relatively unknown Pixar. This was also the first time Disney had greenlit and produced a sequel to one of its animated films, as Rescue Aid Society members Bernard and Bianca (voiced, once again, by Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor) are called on a mission to Australia to save a kidnapped boy and a magnificent eagle from a villainous poacher (voiced by George C. Scott).
While the sequel lacks the emotional weight of the 1977 original, it is nonetheless a fun and entertaining thrill ride, with terrific flight sequences involving the eagle Marahute (brilliantly animated by Glen Keane), impeccable art direction, and scene-stealing comedy from Wilbur the albatross (voiced by the late great John Candy, worth the price of admission alone). It also set the template for the look and style of Disney features for the rest of the decade and beyond.
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| 1990's The Rescuers Down Under |
"Tale As Old As Time"
Back in the mid-Eighties, as VHS tapes of the classic Disney titles started to gain more traction and revenue, studio CEO Michael Eisner and Chairman Jeffrey Katzenberg promoted an idea-pitching process known as the "Gong Show," which allowed artists and employees at the studio to contribute ideas for new titles in the feature film canon. Some of them included Pocahontas, The Rescuers Down Under, The Little Mermaid, and Beauty and the Beast. The latter, in fact, goes all the way back to the 1930s, when Walt Disney and his team were in production on Snow White and were considering ideas for future projects. They took a crack at adapting the classic fairy tale (first written by French novelist Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve in 1740) during the Thirties and Fifties, but they had trouble figuring out how to best tell the story (something they initially struggled with on Pinocchio as well).
A team of artists at the studio, who had been there since the late-Seventies or early-Eighties, went on a research trip to France and spent a few months developing twenty minutes of a non-musical version of the story, which didn't impress Katzenberg and company back in Burbank. Starting from scratch, they changed directors (story artists Kirk Wise & Gary Trousdale were given the helm) and writers (including Linda Woolverton, who became the first screenwriter on an animated film at the studio), and brought in composer Alan Menken and lyricist Howard Ashman (fresh off the success of 1989's The Little Mermaid) to adapt Beauty and the Beast into a full-on musical.
It may seem hard to believe, but the production of Beauty and the Beast was completed in two years, since several previous months had been spent on the initial version of the story. It generally takes four years for an animated film to be made. Even so, the results proved incredibly remarkable. ("20/20" even did a behind-the-scenes piece during the making of the the movie in 1991. Watch here, here, and here, in that order.) The same story is there, as an arrogant prince is turned into a beast by a mysterious enchantress, and must learn to love another--and earn that woman's love in return--to reverse the spell. What the 1991 version does is spin that simple story with various elements that subvert audience expectations.
Like Mermaid before it, Beauty and the Beast honors its literary and fantastical legacy while infusing a level of contemporary pop and modern appeal (something they did with their next two features as well, but got misguided on a few subsequent features, to be candid). Even its soundtrack was the first to include a "pop" version of one of its signature songs (in this case, the title track, sung by artists Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson). Combining elements of romance, adventure, action, comedy, mystery, genuine drama, fantasy, and showstopping music (Broadway, to be exact), this feature film perfectly balances the best of both the worlds of theater and cinema.
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| 1991's Beauty and the Beast |
The character arcs are just as compelling. The heroine Belle desires more than a village life, not to mention others' perceptions and expectations of her. She's also very proactive, independent, booksmart, and strong-willed, and willing to sacrifice her dreams and desires (like those in her books) for those she loves. She is arguably the most grounded of the Disney heroines. The Beast goes from being a selfish master to a prince capable of giving, and having something to live and fight for. The real villain, Gaston, is a chauvinist pig who believes Belle should be his by right, and goes from being a buffoonish jerk to a murderer who will kill the Beast, believing the Beast is in the way of his plans. The household objects in the castle (including French candlestick Lumiere, tighly-wound clock Cogsworth, teapot Mrs. Potts, and feisty teacup Chip) long to be human again, and make the castle (and film) feel welcoming and lively.
One of the studio animators described it like this: The Little Mermaid was the film that said, "Disney animation has returned for a new generation." But Beauty and the Beast was the one that confirmed its maturity and said, "We have come of age, and we are here to stay." As a child, this film was one of my introductions to Disney animation, and there have been many other amazing films to come out of that canon since then (like the next two I'll be mentioning shortly). But there's just something about Beauty and the Beast that's so special and dear. It's a culmination of elements I don't think we'll ever see again. As 2009's Waking Sleeping Beauty's tagline describes, it was "a perfect storm of people and circumstances [that] changed the face of animation forever."
More importantly, this timeless story is, perhaps, the most grounded fairy tale Disney has ever adapted, as its themes of love and redemption make it a truly maturing feature for the studio without sacrificing its general audience. The late Roger Ebert once wrote that the film "reaches back to an older and healthier Hollywood tradition in which the best writers, musicians and filmmakers are gathered for a project on the assumption that a family audience deserves great entertainment, too."
And the fact that Beauty and the Beast became the first-ever animated feature in history to be nominated for a Best Picture Academy Award (until Pixar's Up, 18 years later) is a testament to the dedication of the animators, writers, directors, and Disney staff. Ebert added that the film "reflects a new energy and creativity from the Disney animation people. They seem to have abandoned all notions that their feature-length cartoons are intended only for younger viewers, and these aren't children's movies but robust family entertainment." Good luck not getting choked up while watching this film. Like Belle, you may be left speechless.
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| Howard Ashman and Alan Menken |
"You Ain't Ever Had a Friend Like Me"
1992's Aladdin set another new standard for Disney, for animation, and for movies. Best known for its rapid-fire comedy (in the spirit of Chuck Jones) and idiosyncratic visual style, those key contributions arguably go to two people: animator Eric Goldberg and the late Robin Williams.
Released at a time long before big movie stars headlined animated movies (something DreamWorks took advantage of in the early 2000s), audiences and critics have never before or since seen a character like the shape-shifting, improvisational, and impressionistic Genie, which was tailor-made for Williams' distinctive wild and hysterical persona.
To convince the beloved comedian and actor he was right for the role, Eric Goldberg did some test animation set to one of Williams' comedy albums, which the comedian loved. The result is a hilarious showcase for both artists, as well as an homage to 20th Century caricature artist Al Hirschfeld. This latter homage also reportedly influenced the look of the film from the get-go, from the iconic characters (including the hammy villain Jafar, his obnoxious sidekick parrot Iago, and even the magic carpet) to the impeccable art direction of the palace, the Cave of Wonders, and the general Middle-eastern setting of Agrabah. Talk about a "magic carpet ride."
The Genie is one of cinema's funniest and most memorable characters, and the movie is one of the funniest ever made. (Late animator Chuck Jones, of Warner Bros. fame, went as far as to call it the "funniest movie ever made.") It's bittersweet looking back, since Williams' sad, unexpected passing in 2014, considering what a one-of-a-kind force of nature and talent he was, as well as a beloved presence that could cheer anybody up. His humor and sincerity continues to be dearly missed but never forgotten, including from the film's cast and crew. "He was a real-life genie," Goldberg said of Williams, "And boy, did he grant our wishes."
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| 1992's Aladdin |
The same could be said regarding the film's clever, witty, and catchy music. Howard Ashman had written a few songs in the movie's early stages of development, but sadly passed away from AIDS in March of 1991 (nine month's before the release of Beauty and the Beast, which was dedicated in his memory). Three of his songs for Aladdin ("Arabian Nights," "Friend Like Me," and "Prince Ali") ended up in the finished film, while new songs were co-written by Menken and lyricist Tim Rice. This would mark Ashman's final contributions to Disney Feature Animation. Menken had gone through a brief difficult period after loss of his friend and collaborator, and said that working with Rice on Aladdin positively opened a new chapter for him and gave him the confidence to continue in his career.
The story in Aladdin is conventional in a lot of ways, especially its romance subplot. Directors Ron Clements and John Musker (whose previous credits include The Great Mouse Detective and The Little Mermaid) and screenwriters Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio (a decade before they adapted Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean for the screen) deliver rapid-fire elements while making room for genuine thought. And while the film include some unfortunate instances of female objectification (some regarding Jasmine's midriff, shoulders, and wardrobe) a la Princess Leia in Return of the Jedi, the story otherwise does have its merits.
The theme of characters being "more than what [they] seem," and finding their "worth" is central, as are themes of characters being real with themselves as opposed to what they think they should be (like Aladdin's "Prince Ali" persona). Aladdin, Jasmine, and the Genie each long for a sense of freedom.
In the Genie's case, that means freedom from being imprisoned in his magic lamp. For Jasmine, she tires of her duties as a princess and (like Prince Eric in Mermaid) doesn't want to marry just for the sake of it, but for the right reasons. She also wants to get out into the world ("I can't stay here and have my life lived for me"), which makes her, in that regard, a proactive and firm heroine. Aladdin, on the other hand, longs for a better life, but must learn the hard way in being himself, even if it means surrendering his own desires and "wishes," something no genie can ever grant but any friend (including the Genie) can appreciate.
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| The Walt Disney Studios |
"Remember Who You Are"
In the early Nineties, two teams of artists and filmmakers at Disney were working on two different animated projects simultaneously. One worked on a story based on the legend of Native American heroine Pocahantas. The other was a coming-of-age story (initially titled, "King of the Jungle") described by many studio personnel as "Bambi in Africa". Heads at the studio (and eventually others) believed the former project would be the more successful project. The result actually turned out to be the opposite. (More on that in my next post.)
Like Aladdin, the film that became The Lion King (released in 1994) transcends the Disney brand. Directed by Roger Allers (head of story on Beauty and the Beast and Oliver & Company) and Rob Minkoff (director of the Roger Rabbit shorts Tummy Trouble and Roller-Coaster Rabbit), the first thing that sets it apart from its predecessors is its rousing and powerful score by Hans Zimmer, as well as its songs by Elton John and Tim Rice. In telling the story of a lion cub who is destined to one day become king of his land, the film is thoroughly reverent of African culture (which wouldn't have as strong of an impact on film music again until 2018's Black Panther). From one of cinema's most unforgettable film openings to its equally impactful ending, this is, perhaps, the most transcending score of any Disney feature, or any film in general.
Besides having an impeccable voice cast and superb character animation (from Tony Fucile's mighty lion Mufasa to Andreas Deja's sinister Scar to James Baxter's wise old baboon Rafiki), the film's story and colorful, multi-dimensional characters take inspiration from Shakespearean tragedy (sibling rivalry, a kingdom overthrown), Biblical allegory (Moses and the burning bush, the Prodigal Son), and the wonders and dangers of nature (hence, the Bambi connection). Some of its characters provide much-needed comic-relief and even fourth-wall humor (many thanks to the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern types, Timon and Pumbaa). But the drama gets very deep, especially in the death of a major character (which is actually seen on screen, along with its sad aftermath), and The Lion King deals with grief in a stronger way than Bambi did. It also may be the first time the studio has dealt with such themes in a more powerful way since the "Golden Age" of the 1940s.
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| 1994's The Lion King |
Themes of accepting responsibility and fulfilling a difficult journey are central to this story; exciting as a child at first, until unexpected tragedy and a loss of innocence leads to a guilt-stricken lifestyle (e.g., what happens when we allow enemies to shape our worldview, whether we know it or not) and later a reality check, in terms of remembering one's identity and calling (not just because James Earl Jones said it). Many will see a lot of deep spirituality under these themes, considering the aforementioned allegorical elements (talk about a "return of the king"), which certainly matches the coming-of-age aspect with the now-transcendent "Circle of Life" motif. These are emotions and themes that ring universal, and which made The Lion King a blockbuster hit (and a new gold standard for Disney) upon its initial release.
It remains the most successful hand-drawn animated feature in history (adjusted for inflation, it ranks third behind Snow White and 101 Dalmatians, respectfully). It also marked the end of the "Renaissance" era that began with The Little Mermaid. Disney president Frank Wells unexpectedly died in a helicopter crash two months before the film's release, while Jeffrey Katzenberg (who had reportedly stirred equal amounts of attention and tension at the studio) resigned from his role as chairman after the film opened. (He went on to co-found DreamWorks SKG with filmmaker Steven Spielberg and music producer David Geffen.)
Michael Eisner kept his position as CEO, as did Roy E. Disney as Vice Chairman, while the rest of the Disney animators at the time worked on various projects throughout the decade and into the next. And although the following year saw animation go "to infinity and beyond," the Renaissance era will forever be remembered as an unprecedented period that took the medium to new heights while honoring its enduring legacy. Is it any wonder Aladdin and Jasmine sang about a whole new world?
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