So I've decided to give a massively general overview of the chronology of Walt Disney Features: the ups, downs, general eras, etc. I have (and will continue to) gone deeper into the specific backgrounds and ramifications of each individual movie, but I think a grand, sweeping overview of the general moods of each era might be good for those of you who haven't been.... let's say as invested as I am.
Walt Disney Animation goes back a long freaking way. And yeah, I am going to be dealing (primarily) with the canon features, but what's a good roadtrip without detours? In the very, very beginning, two brothers came to LA all dewey-eyed to set up an animation studio. Walt was an animator and the creative brains, while Roy handled the business aspects and made sure Walt didn't throw all the money away (something that would prove to be harder than you might think). Disney shorts would never be as bitingly broad or humorous as Tex Avery cartoons in the 40-50s or racy as the Betty Boops and others of the 20s-30s, but they were entertainment lavished with love for the art. The absolute best of Walt's work would always have that transparant affection for his medium shining through. And from that love blossomed an era of pioneering; most notably with sound on Steamboat Willie and color in Flowers and Trees, the latter a test run of the effects crucial to making the first feature-length project a viable option.
And with that feature film (obviously Snow White) we are ushered into the first definitive age of Disney Features: The Golden Age. These five films boast Walt's deepest level of care and concern with the animated feature. Never again would he be so personally invested in full-length animations, and no other movies would be as starkly and unabashedly sincere. For it is in sincerety that the true success of Disney lies. We kind of lose touch with that in face of this massive conglomerate, this impersonal, impenetrable brand that is Disney, but then there was no empire. There was just a man who wanted to elevate animation and for everyone else to love it just as much as he, no matter what the risk. Every single film was a monumental gamble: some paid off and some bombed, but it can never be said that he compromised his unique vision. Ironically, the more care and attention Walt lavished on a film, the worse it seemed to fare in the U.S. box-office. Pinocchio and Fantasia (the latter being the most artistically advanced animated film ever) were created using beautiful oils and brought animation forward in ways something even as monumental as Snow White couldn't have possibly imagined, despite their financial misgivings. The studio was saved for another day by Dumbo, the cheap, but no less magical, wonder, though behind-the-scenes relations were forever marred by an animators strike. Walt continued the tradition of following success with the opulent production of Bambi despite popular tastes indicating the cheaper fare was more palletable. And frankly, good for him, though it probably caused Roy and the financial team no end of sleepless nights. While I would not be opposed to films as charming as Dumbo, there is something to be said about a man who had the means to (and does) make commercial masterpieces, while still saying,"Screw the public tastes, I'll make what I like!"
Alas, it was not to last. In addition to the increasingly expensive films with increasingly little return or critical warmth, Walt had to contend with WWII and the loss of the European market, as well as the restrictions of wartime tastes for entertainment. Pretty much the rest of the 40s were relegated to a series of package films; cheap shorts strung together in bastardized variations of Fantasia, but without the budget or scope. These movies cost very little to make and got little in return. I consider them a placeholder in the Disney chronology- keeping the name alive and the animators from getting rusty, but mostly just kicking around waiting for something better to come along.
And ironically, that something better started with the 2nd princess installment, Cinderella. Through very few of the Disney films actually feature princesses, their overwhelming importance make it hard to see otherwise. The Silver Age was not as innovative or vibrant as before, but the animation itself began to come into its own, being both more convincing and what we would now label "Disney-ish" in terms of design. Of course, this is also the blossoming of the empire, with his ventures seeping into television, live action and the piece de resistance, Disneyland. Walt was losing interest in strict animation, which is probably why the culmination of the Silver Age looked like and had very little to do with the man himself. I am of course, referring to Sleeping Beauty, the child of Eyvind Earle more than anyone else, and the singularly most unified film in aesthetic pleasure that hase ever been released on film. Gah, that movie is gorgeous.
And yet again we plunge into darkness, with one insidious invention, the Xerox machine. Of course other factors were at stake, including the decline of Walt's health and void that the keystone left when he was removed. But the root of every problem I have with the films from the "wandering years" can be trace back to the inherent nature of Xerox: cheapness, decline in quality, and just a complete lack of care. The saving grace of Disney had always been always sincerity, but these films were more often than not sincere about absolutely nothing but slapping cells together to squeeze out another dime. Now some were more hit than miss, but the overall morale from the 60s all the way to the 80s was a shambles. Television and live-action films were the new bread-and-butter, while the animation department was sucking the company dry. The department constantly teetered on the edge of oblivion and soured many up-and-coming animators on "The Dream", including Tim Burton, Richard Rich, and most infamously, Don Bluth. Noone could seem to find a way out of the muck, and after a mass of convoluted takeovers, takebacks, backstabbings and betrayals, a system emerged to cycle three movies in production at a time, providing a steady backbone of purpose.
Now where the Renaissance began is pretty hard to pin down, almost as arbitrary as who was/is the evil poisoner of the Disney good name or who was responsible for its rescue. Though hints of the future were prehaps glinting in its predecessors, it's universal that with the breakout renewal of yet another Princess film, this time the Little Mermaid and its broadway-style musical romance formula (that would be copied over and over again), the renaissance was in full swing. Hit after hit danced their way to the box office and hearts of audiences, including myself. These were the movies I first saw in theaters, the nourishment of my childhood. Where the Renaissance ended is perhaps even more hotly debated than where it began: the first signs of waning were as early as Pocahontas, while the last major success was Tarzan, and I would even argue the department wasn't in its death throes for yet another two films.
Whatever the case, by the time Atlantis tolled the bell of doom and I was solidly in my teens, Disney was yet-again synonmyous with cheap "kiddie fare." Pixar was on the rise and 3d amination was threatening to snub out traditional animation forever. Every single film from 2001 to 2008 was more dispiriting than the last, and I had completely given up on even attempting to watch the new Disney releases after Brother Bear tore out my heart and stamped all over it. Even the company announced they were closing their traditional animation department, making Home on the Range (Home on the Range!? Seriously, that's how you wanted to go out?) their last 2d animated film. The giant had finally been laid to rest, not with a bang, but a slow wheezing wimper to make room for more Chicken Littles.
Only... not so much. Disney bought its one-time partner Pixar and with the flood of new animators pouring in, reopened the doors for at least one last film, a princess film, no less: The Princess and the Frog. Within a year, it was followed by the convoluted production of Rapunzel Unbraided, eventually known by the equally snarky title, Tangled. And that's kind of where we sit now, at the edge of something, whether it is the cusp of a new era or the final teeter before sinking over the edge, it's really hard to tell. But I'll tell you one thing: I'll be there every step of the way.
