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| The Walt Disney Animation Building in the 1990s |
Disney's Post-Renaissance of the early-2000s (as well as part of the late Nineties) was a lackluster time for the studio. Despite some quality animation and incredible people behind the scenes, their roster of hand-drawn features was generally forgettable, lacking strength and depth in their stories, and were reportedly created by committee. And yet, even as the decades-old art form was slowly competing with CGI hits from the likes of Pixar and DreamWorks into the new millennium (and seemed like it would end), the Mouse House still turned out a few exceptional or underappreciated films that have later been regarded as some of the finest produced by the studio. Here's a look back at six of them.
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| 2000's The Emperor's New Groove |
The Emperor's New Groove (2000)
A hilarious, laugh-a-minute comedy about a selfish Incan ruler, named Kuzko (voiced by David Spade), turned into a llama by his jealous advisor, Yzma (the late Eartha Kitt), and her dimwitted henchman, Kronk (the always funny Patrick Warburton), whose only help is from a kindhearted peasant (John Goodman), and is forced to learn that the whole world doesn't revolve around him. The film's style is more in line with classic Jay Ward cartoons (a la Rocky & Bullwinkle or Peabody and Sherman), but it's rapid-fire pacing and characterizations fit alongside Aladdin.
Watching the film, you wouldn't believe it had a troubling production up to its December 2000 release. The fully-dimensional and first-rate characters fit their voice talents like gloves, and serve as brilliant showcases for the animators who brought them to life (Nik Ranieri, Dale Baer, and Tony Bancroft, and Bruce W. Smith respectfully). Playwright David Mamet reportedly said this movie had one of the best and most "innovative" scripts that Hollywood had produced in years.
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| 2000's Fantasia 2000 |
Fantasia 2000 (2000)
A continuation of the 1940 original masterpiece, synchronizing classical music with cutting-edge animation, was a nine-year labor of love for the studio. Thanks to the original's bestselling VHS release in 1991, several teams of artists created their interpretations of music selections for seven new segments (with the return of Mickey Mouse in the original "Sorcerer's Apprentice" as the exception). Guest host spots in the final feature are sort of dated by today's standards, but the animated sequences (some traditional, some CGI, some with both) are breathtaking and amazing to experience, even if they do seem shorter than those in their predecessor.
Beethoven's abstract Symphony No. 5 (with stylized birds). Respighi's "Pines of Rome" (with flying humpback whales). Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" (with Al Hirshfeld-style characters in 1920s New York). Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2 (visualizing Hans Christian Andersen's "The Steadfast Tin Soldier"). Saint-Saens' "Carnival of the Animals" finale (with a yo-yo-swinging flamingo). Elgar's "Pomp & Circumstance" (featuring Donald Duck as Noah's assistance aboard the Ark). Stravinsky's "Firebird Suite" (featuring a woodland sprite against a volcanic beast). All of these short pieces collectively represent the height of the medium with state-of-the-art craftsmanship and affection. It's a must-see.
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| 2002's Lilo & Stitch |
Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Veteran story artist Chris Sanders had been with Disney since the Renaissance era, having worked on Beauty and the Beast, The Lion King, and Mulan. His original story of an unlikely friendship between a fugitive alien and a Hawaiian orphaned girl was originally pitched as an unpublished children's book in the mid-Eighties. Due to the box-office disappointments of some of the studio's features at the time, CEO Michael Eisner suggested making a feature that was low in costs but echoed the simplicity and charm of classics like Dumbo. In fact, Lilo & Stitch was the first film to use watercolor backgrounds since the 1940s, along with simple and warm character designs.
It may also be the last hand-drawn Disney feature (until, maybe, 2009's The Princess and the Frog) to have such a cultural impact (seriously, people love Stitch, even when he crashed fake trailers for Disney classics). Its idiosyncratic blend of science-fiction, Hawaiian culture, unlikely friendships, and Elvis music (Stitch dresses up as the King in one scene) still holds up. More important, it illustrates strong themes of broken or dysfunctional individuals and the need for familial love. If that isn't out of this world, what is?
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| 1998's Mulan |
Mulan (1998)
Okay, I'm cheating a little bit here. But in all fairness, I didn't fully mention this late-Nineties entry in any recent posts. Through the decade, some viewers and critics have taken issue with some of Disney's leading ladies and their wardrobe choices (from Jasmine to Pocahontas to Esmeralda). With the exception of Belle, Mulan (based on the Chinese legend) was the most active, modest, and intellectual heroine in the Disney canon at the time. Her story as a young woman who can't meet the expectations of her family, her country, and her ancestry are profound and grounded ("If I were to be my real self, I would break my family's heart"). Disguising herself as a man, she takes her wounded father's place in the Imperial army, accompanied by a charming cricket and a fast-talking dragon, named Mushu (voiced hysterically by Eddie Murphy), looking for his own self-respect.
The style of the film is simple yet dynamic, although the Mongolian charge is an impressive standout of a set piece. Longtime film composer Jerry Goldsmith even received an Oscar nomination for his sweeping and epic score, and some of the film's songs (including the meditative "Reflection" and the training-fueled "I'll Make a Man Out of You") leave a mark. Some (like animation historian Jerry Beck) have criticized the story, however, for combining elements of drama and comedy--describing the latter as out of place--while a few subtle risque elements (i.e., cross-dressing references, "bathing" in a lake) masquerade as not-really-G-rated territory. Nevertheless, themes of warfare, honor, strength and discipline retain the story, including a powerful moment of honoring the fallen and putting innocence behind.
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| 1999's Tarzan |
Tarzan (1999)
"Deep Canvas" technology goes back to an ambitious concept from the 1980s, by inserting hand-drawn characters into a three-dimensional environment. For Tarzan (another late-Nineties entry here), these techniques carried on Walt Disney's tradition of discovery and innovation, making the film a cinematic roller-coaster and viewers a part of the visual (and visceral) experience. (Glen Keane's expert animation of the titular ape-man sliding and swinging through the jungle--with attention-to-detail on human anatomy and physique--is a knockout.)
Edgar Rice Burrough's novels have been adapted hundreds of times. The Disney artists, along with directors Kevin Lima and Chris Buck, accomplished the impossible by giving the character (and Burrough's novels) new life, in a surprisingly fresh, contemporary and exciting way. It's also a very moving and emotional story, emphasizing themes of inter-species communication and family (animation is the best form for expressing those themes here), and owing to Phil Collins' and Mark Mancina's heart-pounding music.
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| 2002's Treasure Planet |
Treasure Planet (2002)
Imagine if Robert Louis Stevenson's pirate adventure novel Treasure Island was written as science-fiction. This idea was pitched by directors Ron Clements and John Musker back in the Eighties, alongside The Little Mermaid, but wasn't greenlit until the directing duo finished Hercules in the late-Nineties. Released one year after Atlantis, Treasure Planet sadly suffered the same outcome, as both films didn't do well in theaters initially. Even so, it's, perhaps, a better movie than you remember, with creative characters, inventive worlds, bracing action, and songs by artist John Rzeznick.
The film gets right into action as a young, rebellious Jim Hawkins (voiced by Joseph Gordon-Levitt) journeys in search of lost pirate treasure. The directors and artists utilized "Deep Canvas" to create a distant world where humans and aliens co-exist, including a crescent moon-shaped space port, as well as a CGI mechanical arm for John Silver. The result is a little crowded, but not as dated as other 2-D/3-D hybrids like Fox's Titan A.E. or DreamWorks' Sinbad. It does underplay some of its characters (Silver is the best, while Martin Short is a riot as B.E.N., and shape-shifting Morph steals every scene he's in), but emphasizes its themes of abandonment and surrogate father figures well.
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Just a theory, but maybe Jim's character angst and struggles paralleled where the studio was at, while trying to maintain what they had. Perhaps Silver's words in the movie are retrospectively noteworthy for the next (and up-and-coming) generation of animators and artists at the studio: "You got the makings of greatness in you. But you got to take the helm and chart your own course, stick to it." Even if not all of their features at the time were memorable, Disney nevertheless attempted to branch out from the conventional norm. And that certainly came in handy years later.
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