#d-views

Ever since 1976, the characters of the Muppet Show have been American pop culture icons. The show itself won a total of 21 Emmy nominations and four television awards over its long run, and by 1990 its cast had also starred in several critically acclaimed films (The Muppet Movie, The Great Muppet Caper, and The Muppets Take Manhattan) and the very popular animated TV show Muppet Babies. And all of that wouldn’t have been possible without the Muppets’ creator, Jim Henson.

Like at the Walt Disney Company, the loss of their leader in 1990 hit Jim Henson Productions very hard. One silver lining, however, is that just like with Walt Disney, Jim Henson was memorialized not just by the characters he created, but by his many achievements and the many friendships he’d made in life. He received a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame alongside Kermit the Frog; was inducted into the Television Hall of Fame; earned a memorial in his hometown Hyattsville, Maryland; was posthumously named a Disney Legend; was the focus of the heartfelt TV special The Muppets Celebrate Jim Henson; and was laid to rest with two formal funeral services complete with performances of some of his favorite songs. And just like the Walt Disney Company, even after the death of someone who meant so much to them, Jim Henson Productions got back up and promised to do more in the memory of their lost leader. Jim’s son Brian Henson took the reins and directed the Disney-co-produced Christmas movie The Muppet Christmas Carol in 1992, before he moved on to their next project and today’s subject, Muppet Treasure Island.

So, here’s the thing -- I have a LOT of nostalgia for this movie. I will be upfront about that. But even with that acknowledged, I was sort of stunned when I found out how lukewarm the reaction to this movie was, when it was released in theaters. Sure, I knew it hadn’t broken the bank, but even if it earned about $34 million worldwide, it received no honors or awards, only hit third at the box office opening weekend behind the movies Broken Arrow and Happy Gilmore, and even now only boasts an average 73% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. Critics at the time criticized how it was more “Treasure Island” than “Muppet”, with Roger Ebert calling it “less cleverly written” and Gene Siskel even more coldly deeming it “boring.” Although I’ll readily acknowledge that reading those reactions makes me want to run outside and scream “FUCK YOU, GENE SISKEL” at the top of my lungs, I promise to give a more rational review of this movie instead, one hopefully that acknowledges any possible shortcomings, but also will celebrate this film and how completely NOT boring it is.

One of the best things about this movie hits us in the face right off the bat -- the music, written by scoring giant Hans Zimmer and Nick Glennie-Smith. As much as I enjoy a lot of Muppet musicals, I attest that Muppet Treasure Island has the most cohesive score overall of any Muppet production. The Muppets were always creatures of the short, sweet vignette -- of the variety show -- of many disparate pieces sewn loosely together into a whole like a patchwork quilt. Even though The Muppet Christmas Carol’s soundtrack comes very close in its cohesion and I would say The Muppets (2011) -- my personal favorite Muppet movie -- is truer to the spirit of the Muppet Show in its music while also paying tribute to old-fashioned movie musicals, Muppet Treasure Island just paints a full-bodied picture from the off-set, building on refrains that return and morph over the course of the picture. From the very beginning, we get that this venture is NOT a standard Muppet movie. Like The Muppet Christmas Carol, the Muppets’ humor will only be part of the story told -- in TMCC, it takes a backseat to sincere emotions like love and redemption, while here in MTI, it takes a backseat to adventure and swashbuckling action.

The score also seamlessly flows into our first song, “Shiver My Timbers,” which just screams “pirate!” I’ve loved pirates ever since I was a little kid, and Muppet Treasure Island was one of the main reasons why. I was okay with Peter Pan, but Muppet Treasure Island was what really got me excited about pirates. They were rough, ruthless, and dangerous, but it was exciting to face off against them in an epic musical adventure, even if your only weapons were a couple of artfully thrown starfish. In the 90′s, pirate films weren’t really “in” -- it wouldn’t be until 2003 with the release of Pirates of the Caribbean that they became popular again -- but I think Muppet Treasure Island, through its music, really embraces the fun, action-packed thrills that Disney would later capitalize on in the Pirates films.

After our prologue, we meet Billy Bones (played by the perfectly cast Billy Connolly) and, of course, our hero, Jim Hawkins, played by newcomer Kevin Bishop. Kevin was the very first of a hundred kids who showed up for the audition to meet the casting agents, and he was selected for the part then and there. Sadly post-Muppets he moved on to stage and television, but for what it’s worth, I quite like Kevin in the role of Jim. He’s distinctly depicted as a boy, complete with a pre-puberty “boy soprano” singing voice (which I acknowledge is an acquired taste, but I personally enjoy), but that characterization only serves to accent how large of an arc he goes through over the course of the film. He starts off as smart, sincere, honest, and dreamy, but also very innocent and trusting, and over the course of the story, he learns to ground himself in who he is and what he believes in, to the point where he has to sever ties with someone he once considered a friend and mentor. Accompanying Jim in his journey are Gonzo and Rizzo, who largely serve as comic relief but do still serve as good friends and companions to Jim, as evident by the three characters’ “I Want” song, “Something Better.” Yes, Gonzo and Rizzo are sidekicks, but they’re still distinct personalities that bounce well off each other and “straight-man” Jim. Originally the filmmakers had considered simply having Gonzo and Rizzo being two characters called “Jim” and “Hawkins” respectively (splitting the part in two, not unlike what they did with Statler and Waldorf in The Muppet Christmas Carol), but due to concerns that the choice would result in a lack of heart in the finished product, that idea was scrapped. I think it ultimately was the better decision to leave the drama to the humans -- it’s not that the Muppets can’t conjure sincere emotion (just look at “Pictures in my Head” or “Man or Muppet”), but I still think having any of the existing Muppets fulfill the “coming of age” narrative the original Jim Hawkins goes through would’ve been a bit of a stretch. Even in The Muppet Christmas Carol or non-Muppet-show Jim Henson production Labyrinth, the main characters with a story arc are played by human actors who are able to ground the picture despite the cast of colorful, irreverent characters.

One of the main criticisms that critics of the time lobbed at this movie is that it feels more “Treasure Island” than “Muppet”, and in a way it’s a decent point, if not phrased very badly. Unlike in other Muppet projects, the humor plays second fiddle to the plot and the characters are not the characters we know from the Muppet Show with their Muppet Show backstories and consciousness. In The Muppet Christmas Carol, the film could very easily be seen as a “production” being put on by the Muppets, even if it’s never overtly stated as such, thanks to Gonzo (as Charles Dickens) constantly breaking the fourth wall. In Muppet Treasure Island, however, Gonzo and Rizzo have their own non-Muppet-show history as friends of Jim Hawkins way before ever meeting the other Muppets like Kermit and Sam the Eagle, and Kermit and Miss Piggy have a whole soap-opera romance that involves a wedding and getting marooned by pirates (we’ll get to that later). So yes, this is more “Treasure Island,” but it’s not less “Muppet” -- it’s less “Muppet Show.” These Muppets have different histories, but they’re the same characters despite this. Gonzo is an eccentric thrill-seeker -- Rizzo is a cowardly cynic -- Kermit is a soft-spoken pacifist -- Fozzie is a lovable dimwit -- Piggy is a self-centered diva. Think of Muppet Treasure Island as a Muppet AU fanfiction -- these may not be exactly the characters you know, and yet...they are! They’re the exact same big personalities with the same quirks, strengths, and weaknesses, just in an alternate universe. And honestly, I think it’s really cool, to see these sorts of characters so exclusively used for comedy in a world that’s not flat-out comedic -- one that’s kind of dirty and rough around the edges, with swashbuckling action and real danger around every corner.

The nice thing is that although yes, the comedy isn’t the central focus anymore, there is still really good humor in this film, a lot of it thanks to the shift in tone. There’s just something so very, very funny to me about Billy Bones’s death scene being followed up by Rizzo, Gonzo, and Jim just flat-out freaking out and dashing out of the room screaming like stupid kids, or the tense action scene where the pirates storm into the inn being punctuated by Rizzo trying to help Gonzo load the gun, only to spill the bag of bullets, or the epic entrance of the illustrious Captain Smollett’s carriage ending with the tall, solemn coachman stepping aside to reveal the Captain himself, played by Kermit the Frog. I think it plays into the ideas of subverting expectations and building up a punchline properly before delivering the joke -- as each scene is built up, we’re left constantly unsure if the film’s going to play things straight or just be completely irreverent, and the contrast is what can make a joke much funnier than in a purely, solely humorous scenario. There are a few points where the contrast can become a bit labored, but I laugh so much more during this movie that I ever have watching my favorite reruns of the Muppet Show, no matter how much I enjoy them. It’s something that, again, the Pirates of the Caribbean films would capitalize on much later. (Too bad they couldn’t incorporate that humor into any catchy musical numbers! Disney, where’s my Pirates of the Caribbean musical?)

Aha, and now we come to the brightest of the shining stars in this film -- our villain, Long John Silver, played by the amazing Tim Curry. I’m sorry, it’s an incontrovertible truth that Curry is a unique, magical ingredient that, when added to any movie, just elevates the cinematic dish to a whole new level and leaves you drooling for one more scene with him. I remember someone once saying that Curry is sort of like a Muppet in human skin thanks to his outrageous, yet likable acting, and...yeah, it makes it so that he fits perfectly in this movie, where he has to interact so closely with the Muppets. The nice thing is, though, that he also has a lot of chemistry with his human co-star Kevin Bishop, to the extent that you sincerely feel for the relationship that forms between Jim and Silver even if you know Silver’s intentions from the start. I particularly like their exchange in the ridiculously catchy “Sailing for Adventure,” as well as their scene at the front of the ship where they discuss their fathers and the stars.

Just as the adventure is getting going, however, it stops dead with the wind’s abandonment of the Hispaniola. Out of nowhere, the ship breaks out into the most ridiculous, most “Muppet” of all of the musical numbers, “Cabin Fever.” The song was one of my favorite parts when I was little and it’s always made me laugh, but it’s definitely the biggest detour of the movie that up until that point lived in its own pirate-centric world. It’s a very short-lived detour and as I said, it’s ridiculously funny, but it doesn’t have any bearing on the plot and I could see how people might find it kind of pointless, particularly since it doesn’t even feature three of our main characters, Jim, Silver, or Smollett. One other critique I will give the film is that some of the effects nowadays don’t look very real, like the Hispaniola being composited over still matte paintings -- there are points where the production values remind me a bit of the old Wishbone TV series, where they have to angle the shot just so or get creative just to try to make the ship look as big as it should be. But honestly, there were points where Wishbone impressed me with those same sorts of layering and green-screen effects despite its limited budget, and those cheaper effects don’t look tacky or out-of-place, so I personally don’t mind them that much.

Because this is a Muppet movie, it’s unsurprising that our Mr. Arrow (played by Sam the Eagle) isn’t really killed, instead just being tricked off of the ship by a manipulative Silver, but it says something that, even with that softened plot turn, the stakes are not completely dismantled. We still see the pirates as a legitimate threat when they kidnap Jim and take over the Hispaniola, even when they burst into song. Tim Curry’s “only number,” “A Professional Pirate,” is a perfect expression of his expert, charming showmanship, which in my mind truly can’t be matched by any other performer in Hollywood, past or present. No one gives a performance like Tim Curry. It makes it so that even when I was a bratty kid getting irritated about Silver calling privateer Sir Francis Drake a pirate and using “buccaneer” as a synonym for “pirate,” I would sing this song at the top of my lungs, trying to even reach 75% of the energy Curry put into his vocals.

At long last, Miss Piggy makes her grand debut as “Queen Boom Sha-Kal-a-Kal,” a.k.a. Benjamina Gunn. Although the diva doesn’t end up getting much screentime, she certainly gets a grand entrance, complete with an elephant steed decorated with flowers and a full musical number complete with a tribal chant and ethereal vocalizing. And true to form, when she lays eyes on her one true love, Kermit...she smacks him so hard that he’s thrown backwards off his feet and into a gong. What’s particularly interesting about Piggy in this movie is that although she and Fozzie are voiced by Frank Oz as always, both she and Fozzie were actually puppeted by Kevin Clash, as Oz was unavailable during this film’s production, and Oz’s vocals for both characters were added in post-production. Despite the difference in puppeteer, however, both characters are just as likable as ever -- I’d honestly had no clue that they weren’t performed by the same person! The film even got to use the full-bodied remote-controlled puppets for Kermit and Piggy for the love duet “Love Led Us Here,” which is kicked off by an Evita joke I never got as a kid but as an adult makes me grin like a friggin’ idiot. Fortunately the duet is inter-cut with Silver and the pirates finding the treasure, rather than it being chock-full of romantic flashbacks or prolonged looks between the two lovebirds, giving it a lighter tone than it would’ve had otherwise.

With a much reduced crew comprised only of Rizzo, Gonzo, Squire Trelawney, Dr. Honeydew, Beaker, and the newly returned Mr. Arrow, Jim comes to Benjamina and Smollett’s rescue and returns to Treasure Island to face Silver and the pirates. The action scene is full of humor, but because of the world established in the rest of the film, I would argue it still has stakes. The blows still hurt and there’s still a threat of defeat and danger, most notably when Long John Silver prepares to fight. Even if you don’t think the Muppets are going to die persay, you still feel the suspense in wanting to see what’s going to happen next. And when Silver surrenders, he himself can see the real treasure Jim found on his adventure -- a family...a group of people Muppets who will support him and encourage the very best in him.

Silver’s escape scene is a beautifully heart-wrenching scene -- one that could only have been earned by two excellent performances over the course of the film by Kevin Bishop and Tim Curry. Even though both Silver and Jim know that they’re different people and they could never walk the same path, it doesn’t mean that they don’t still greatly esteem and care about each other. In Jim’s case, it’s especially difficult, given that in parting ways with Silver, he has to cut loose of a very poor potential father figure who would’ve only dragged him down in the long run, but who was so likable in his own damaged way. It proves to be a very bittersweet scene sprinkled into a very happy, cheerful ending, complete with the chipper island-inspired end credits bop “Love Power.”

Muppet Treasure Island is -- in my opinion, at least -- one of the best Muppet movies ever made. It broke away from quite a few Muppet conventions, like the characters breaking the fourth wall and being aware of themselves being in a movie or TV show, and embraced a much less humorous tone in both its writing and cinematography. Yes, it reimagined a classic book like The Muppet Christmas Carol did, but this movie took the next step, embracing the world of the original novel as well as the set-up and immersing the Muppets’ cast of characters in it. Although I can see why some people would be more partial to the original Muppet movie formula and love it a lot myself, I really, really respect Brian Henson and the rest of this film’s crew for taking the Muppets in such a different direction. It was an entertaining, action-packed, funny pirate movie before those sorts of movies became popular again, and it remains my favorite “pirate” movie of all time, as well as my personal favorite incarnation of the Treasure Island story (barely beating out Treasure Planet). I know childhood nostalgia can play a role in what media can give you joy as an adult, but I truly don’t think it’s the only factor here -- it’s also just a really good movie, and I can only hope that more people will consider giving it a chance and have just as much fun Sailing for Adventure as I did!

In the early 2000′s, the Walt Disney Company -- especially its animation department -- was in trouble. Of all of the films done in the so-called “Experimental Era,” the only animated film that had made Disney a real profit was 2002′s Lilo and Stitch. The others, even if they did manage to receive favorable reviews, were all financial disappointments. The Emperor’s New Groove was fourth at the box office opening weekend behind movies like What Women Want and How the Grinch Stole Christmas and only grossed about 169 million dollars in theaters worldwide after costing 100 million to make. Brother Bear even now boasts a rather sad 37% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. And even if Atlantis: The Lost Empire hadn’t received such lukewarm reviews and been accused of plagiarizing several other movies (most notably Nadia: The Secret of the Blue Water, Stargate, and, as I’ve discussed previously, Castle in the Sky), it wouldn’t have changed the fact that it was released the same year as Dreamworks’ green monster hit Shrek. But no Experimental Era film did as badly as the last one -- Home on the Range -- which after its release in 2004 was so badly received both by critics and at the box office that it prompted Disney to write down the production costs and announce the closing of its 2D animation department for good.

But it didn’t close for good. In 2006, the new president and chief creative officer of the company, Ed Cadmill and John Lasseter, reversed the decision. The 2D animation department had one last chance to turn their dark destiny around, and in 2009, as Disney did after World War II with Cinderella and in the late 80′s with The Little Mermaid, it pinned its hopes on a beautiful, goodhearted princess.

The Princess and the Frog in some ways was Disney’s attempt to return to their Disney Renaissance roots. Its directors -- John Musker and Ron Clements -- had previously directed The Little Mermaid and Aladdin among others. The reinvented fairy tale story features magic, a theatrical villain, a prince, animal sidekicks, romance, and Broadway-musical-style songs. Even the advertising highlighted how much it wanted to remind millennial audiences of the films they grew up with, putting a spotlight on the music and beautiful hand-drawn animation, rather than the “adult,” meta humor that Dreamworks had used to advertise its films and Disney later used to advertise its next Disney princess movie, Tangled. Some production details leaked to the public, such as the title of “The Frog Princess,” the main character’s original name, and her profession as a chambermaid, also were edited upon receiving backlash, and still others (such as the use of voodoo in the plot and our black princess’s prince not being black) were just left as is. Despite all of the negative press that swirled around the project, there was also a lot of promise that Disney fans noted too, such as Dreamgirls supporting actress Anika Noni Rose being cast as Tiana, Pixar composer Randy Newman being chosen to write the film’s score and songs, and Oprah Winfrey being brought on both as a technical consultant and the voice of Tiana’s mother Eudora.

The marketing decision to focus more on nostalgic millennial adults rather than the new Generation Z is what I feel largely contributed to The Princess and the Frog not being the blockbuster Disney was hoping for. As much as I wholeheartedly believe that animation is not and has never been a children’s medium, the attitude that lingered around the public consciousness in the late 2000′s and sadly even today is that animation -- most importantly, 2D animation -- is for kids, and without the kids being just as excited to watch the film as their nostalgic parents, uncles, aunts, and older siblings, The Princess and the Frog was fighting an uphill battle, even if it was produced by a marketing monster like Disney. Even though the movie was handicapped by this bad marketing choice, however, I would still argue that The Princess and the Frog was a success. Even with that bad marketing choice, the racism-themed controversies that had swirled around its production, and the release of James Cameron’s blockbuster Avatar a week later weighing it down, Tiana costumes were selling out everywhere prior to Halloween that year. The movie still was #1 at the box office opening weekend, an honor not held by a Disney animated movie since Lilo and Stitch. It still made $104.4 million and was the fifth highest grossing film that year. It still earned pretty favorable reviews, earning an 85% at Rotten Tomatoes.

Sadly, because The Princess and the Frog wasn’t the big blockbuster that The Little Mermaid had been, Disney turned its focus more toward its 3D projects, and after the release of Winnie the Pooh in 2011 (the same weekend as Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2 -- COME ON, DISNEY, WERE YOU EVEN TRYING TO GIVE THIS FILM A CHANCE??), the 2D department did close its doors after all, and the studio went in a new direction with the release of Tangled. It’s a choice I lament Disney making, for as much as I’ve enjoyed most of the 3D entries to the Disney Revival, there was something so utterly magical about seeing The Princess and the Frog’s premiere at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank with my mother back in 2009. 2D animation is a beautiful art form, and it’s frustrating that Disney has turned its back on it so thoroughly after it got Disney to where it is now. The Princess and the Frog could’ve been the Great Mouse Detective to another 2D film that could’ve been a Little Mermaid and proved once again that 2D animation is for everyone, not just for kids, just as Little Mermaid did. But instead, the film that was the Revival version of The Little Mermaid was Disney’s first 3D princess film, Tangled -- and not to diss Tangled as a film, but it saddens me that it succeeded largely by playing to the public’s ignorant attitude that 3D animation is more “adult” than 2D animation and that the way to communicate that your animated movie is “for adults too” in your trailers is through using snarky meta humor rather than through artistry and complex themes.

With all this background out of the way...laissez le beau temps rouler! Let’s start the film!

Anika’s singing voice starting our film out is just a perfect introduction. Its pure, unassuming tone just ripples with sincerity as we are led into our introductory scene for our main character Tiana, her mother Eudora, and her absolutely hysterical best friend, Charlotte “Lottie” La Bouff. As we leave the La Bouff manor, we also see a touch of the “Lady and the Tramp influence” that Musker and Clements added to the production in the background design. Just by transitioning from the well-kept, affluent neighborhood in the dimming sunlight to the more run-down areas of town at night, we get a perfect, complete sense of the environment that our heroine lives in, all without any dialogue. And yet, as Mum pointed out, even the rundown areas are full of warmth and charm. Just like in Lady and the Tramp, they never look scary or shady, simply modest and maybe a little worn. On the note of charm, as well, I absolutely friggin’ adore Tiana’s dad, James. Considering how big of a role he has in the story, it’s really good that we see how big of an impact he had on his daughter through his good, hard-working attitude and love for his family and neighborhood despite not having much screen-time.

Once the “Walt Disney Pictures” banner floats by, we finally meet Tiana as an adult. As mentioned earlier, Tiana is my favorite Disney princess. Part of the reason why comes back to the fact that Tiana’s movie came out right before I started my first job (ironically enough at a restaurant in Disney World) and she inspired me to give 120% everyday, but the other reason Tiana speaks to me so much is because she reminds me quite a bit of Mum! Like my mother, Tiana is a very warmhearted, logical, and hardworking person who never sits on her laurels and is always ready to fix a problem, and it was really cool to see a Disney princess with the same kind of organized mind and stubborn work ethic that I saw in my mum growing up. That feeling I had watching Tiana’s story is one of the things that inspired me to write my Disney crossover story TrueMagic, where I wrote a character directly inspired by Mum. On top of all that, I realize that Tiana speaks a lot of the millennial and gen Z experience, having to save up a lot of money at two dead-end minimum wage jobs just to try to get ahead in a world where the cards are stacked against her. We even see her sleeping in the room she grew up in, meaning she’s still living at home as an adult to make ends meet!! Isn’t that relatable!!

I have heard others critique Randy Newman’s music, but in my opinion the score and songs developed for this movie perfectly set the mood of 1920′s New Orleans. The opening number “Down in New Orleans” is really well-paced with the medley of scenes introducing Tiana’s usual work day, Dr. Facilier’s vindictiveness and desire for Eli La Bouff’s wealth, Naveen’s playboy attitude, and Charlotte’s instant attraction to the newly arrived Prince. Of the songs, I’d personally cite Tiana’s “Almost There” and Facilier’s “Friends on the Other Side” as the strongest links, with “Gonna Take You There” as the weakest, but even if you don’t end up finding the songs catchy, I don’t think anyone can deny how well it suits the film’s setting.

Now admittedly, one critique you could give the film is its idealized, whitewashed view of historical race relations. Let’s be honest: in the 1920′s, a rich cotton baron like Eli La Bouff would not have visited a cafe on Tiana’s side of town and he would not let his precious daughter engage with Tiana as an adult either. As much as there were people who didn’t follow the common attitude that black Americans were somehow “inferior” to white Americans, if you didn’t follow that attitude, you couldn’t have expected to be very financially successful or influential in such a racist society, as Mr. La Bouff is. On top of that, Tiana would not only be facing passive prejudice when trying to open her own restaurant, like the kind the Fenner brothers express about her “background” -- she would also be likely facing active discrimination and potentially violence. As much as this film doesn’t truly represent the way things were back then, however, I would argue that the decision in the end benefits the picture, which clearly is supposed to be a fairy tale. This is a story where a girl kisses a frog, becomes one herself, meets an alligator who plays the blues and a firefly in love with a star, and both fights against and alongside people who practice voodoo. It may have a historical backdrop, kind of like Pocahontas and The Great Mouse Detective do, but it is still a fantasy. There are other films that aim to teach us about how things really were back then, so why can’t we have one where a young black American lives her own fairy tale in the iconic Crescent City? Plus, in Mum’s words, an integral part of this story is the pure, unlikely friendship between Charlotte and Tiana, which would have been close to impossible in a completely historical setting. To my memory, it’s actually one of the few times we see a close friendship between two female contemporaries in a Disney princess movie -- the closest we’d had previously were relationships like Aurora with the three fairies (which was more of a familial relationship) and Belle and Mrs. Potts (which...yeah, big generation gap). Even in films that came later, we have Elsa and Anna, but they’re sisters, not just friends. And Tiana having a friend like Charlotte ends up being pivotal in her eventual triumph.

Speaking of Charlotte and her friendship with Tiana, something I love about her is that she doesn’t just give Tiana the money she needs to open her own restaurant. Instead, because she knows Tiana has pride and wouldn’t just accept the money for nothing, Charlotte finds a reason for her to give her the money she needs by assigning her the task of making beignets for the ball she and her father are hosting. It’s something that reminds me a bit of my mum and her best friend, who also comes from a wealthy family -- like Charlotte, my mum’s best friend likes spending money on my mum, but has always known that she can’t buy my mum’s friendship. Both she and Charlotte know that you can only be a friend through expressing sincere caring, which is the mark of a true friend.

Ever since The Princess and the Frog first came out, “Almost There” has been my work mantra, and every time I hear it, I just am full of drive and excitement. The animation for this sequence -- animated by senior Disney icon Eric Goldberg, who previously worked on the Rhapsody in Blue segment in Fantasia 2000 and was the supervising animator for the Genie in Aladdin -- is also pitch perfect, incorporating both Al Hiershfeld-inspired designs and an Art Deco vibe to envelope us in Tiana’s fantasy. It’s one of the kind of artistic risks that Disney used to do more often, like the Pink Elephants sequence in Dumbo, the fairy’s gift sequences in Sleeping Beauty, and the Zero to Hero sequence in Hercules, and you just don’t see this sort of highly stylized song sequence in most of Disney’s newer films. The only one that comes to mind is the “You’re Welcome” sequence in Moana, which ironically enough also featured Eric Goldberg drawing all of Maui’s “Mini-Maui” tattoos! Those sorts of stylized musical numbers is something I’d love to see more of in the Disney Revival, because it gives the film in question such character and can bring an already great song to new heights.

Naveen is a character who I could’ve very easily disliked upon first meeting him. Obnoxious, selfish, and/or vain characters -- such as Lightning McQueen from Cars or even Kuzco from The Emperor’s New Groove -- really tend to rub me the wrong way, unless there is something in the character at the very beginning that makes me want to see them improve themselves. Fortunately our main prince is saved for me because we see that along with his vain, shallow, playboy attitude, he also expresses a great love of music and living life to the fullest. He doesn’t ignore his responsibilities as a prince just to be rebellious or lazy, but because he is so in love with New Orleans and its culture. He isn’t an angry or willfully condescending person: he immediately starts dancing with regular New Orleans citizens and is enthralled with the moves of a tiny street entertainer. And just as Tiana represents the millennial experience through working multiple jobs just to make ends meet, Naveen expresses a different kind of millennial experience -- that of being so sheltered by one’s privilege that, once you’re on your own, you’re incapable of sustaining the life style you’ve become accustomed to and are led by society to believe you should be able to achieve. At this point, it’s still easy to feel sorry for Lawrence, Naveen’s resident “Peter Pettigrew-look-alike” manservant, though that impulse quickly disappears after we see his interactions with our villain, Dr. Facilier. Speaking of which...

Just as Tiana is my favorite Disney princess, Dr. Facilier is my favorite Disney villain. Voiced by Keith David, the man who previously gave life to Goliath in Disney’s Gargoyles, the so-called “Shadowman” is -- in Mum’s words -- just “deliciously evil.” His voice drips with cold charisma, dipping into rich bass tones but never sounding groggy or lacking in energy, and the animation -- done by Bruce W. Smith, supervising animator for Oscar Proud from the Disney Channel show The Proud Family -- just fits David’s line-reads like a glove. Although Lawrence briefly provokes Facilier, effectively foreshadowing his true viciousness, the witch doctor largely puts on a theatrical persona that entices even the most jaded viewers in with his song “Friends on the Other Side.” Mum brought up the wonderful comparison to Oogie Boogie in Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, and just like Oogie Boogie, Facilier’s number feels very unscripted and spontaneous, and yet it’s still conniving. Even though the song is jazzy and oddly conversational, there’s this dangerous, sinister darkness echoing in the background, not just in the echoing voices of the Friends on the Other Side but in the lyrics with multiple meanings (”when I look into your future, it’s the green that I’ve seen”). Along with the theatricality, however, Facilier doesn’t forget to also be very intimidating as a villain -- the scene where he turns Naveen into a frog gets quite scary in its imagery.

Just as everything seems to have come up roses for her, Tiana is suddenly about to lose the restaurant of her dreams for good. But there is still hope -- or, at least...there’s a frog. Or a prince. A frog pri -- you get the point. Interestingly Naveen, while a frog, reminded Mum and me of two very different characters. Mum immediately thought of Aladdin, thanks to his charming, smiling expressions, while I immediately thought of another frog seeking a kiss from a beautiful girl: Jean-Bob from The Swan Princess. I personally think the second of those is a coincidence, given that Jean-Bob and Naveen really don’t have much in common excluding a flamboyant accent, but Aladdin’s influence on Naveen’s character animation is pretty reasonable. After all, Flynn Rider’s design was also influenced by previous Disney princes.

Not having seen this movie in a while, I’d forgotten about the “frog hunters” sequence in the middle of the movie until it came on screen. I know that Tiana and Naveen had to face multiple dangers before they reached Mama Odie, not just for dramatic storytelling but also to help cement their budding relationship...but I’m sorry, the characters of the frog hunters are just...uncomfortable. The stereotypical portrayal just comes across as very mean-spirited, especially when compared to the great respect for New Orleans culture in the rest of the movie. The scene does give Tiana and Naveen good character development, though, so it’s a flaw I can overlook to enjoy the rest of the movie.

Usually I don’t enjoy Disney “sidekick” characters as much as I do more developed main or side characters, but I will grant that as sidekicks go, Louis the alligator and especially Ray the firefly are among the better ones. Louis is kind of there for humor more than to advance the plot at all, which is a shame, but Ray becomes both ridiculously charming and central to the film’s theme of love when we see his romantic side in his song “Ma Belle Evangeline.” This song has special significance to Mum and me, all because of Mum’s little Russian Blue/Short-Hair kitty, Evangeline, or Eva for short. When Eva and her sister Ella (full name Cinderella) were being driven home from the pound, the two cats were absolutely beside themselves, crying and yowling the whole way. The only thing that quieted them was me singing songs to them, including songs based on their names -- Cinderella’s opening theme (”Cinderella, you’re as lovely as your name”) for Ella, and “Ma Belle Evangeline” for Eva. Even now, Eva knows that that song is her song, and she always relaxes whenever she hears it. The song sequence in the film also beautifully reflects Tiana and Naveen’s budding relationship, which has already affected them enough that they are starting to take influence from each other. Tiana has started to open up and have some fun, while Naveen is more able to acknowledge his shortcomings and takes more responsibility. They even see eye to eye enough that they stop Louis from telling Ray that Evangeline is a star, not a firefly. Tiana/Naveen is my Disney OTP mainly because of that influence that they have on each other. Both of them are such beautifully flawed characters, but they both also teach and encourage each other to be better people than they would have been on their own.

Tiana and Naveen learn that if they want to turn human again, they need help from Charlotte, who will be “princess” of the Mardi Gras Parade until midnight that night. Unfortunately, when Tiana finds Charlotte, she finds her about to marry who she thinks is Naveen on a float in the parade. Admittedly I kind of wonder why Tiana didn’t consider that it might not be Naveen, as earlier she saw a human Naveen dancing with Charlotte before meeting frog!Naveen and so should know there’s an imposter, but I suppose it’s just story convention, to have this kind of a pre-climax misunderstanding. It’s the same reason why Naveen is locked in a box on the float where he can interrupt the wedding, rather than being stowed away more securely somewhere else, or why Charlotte didn’t turn into a frog too after not being able to turn Tiana and Naveen back.

At long last, our climax arrives. After Dr. Facilier “lays Ray low” in a scene that makes both Mum and me cry out in grief, he corners Tiana in the graveyard, enticing her with the dream she’s worked so hard for in the hopes of getting the medallion that would allow Lawrence to impersonate Naveen and Facilier to steal the La Bouff fortune. But because of all of the character development Tiana’s gone through, she remembers what’s really important -- the people she loves -- and she outdoes the Shadowman, condemning him to be yanked down into the underworld by his so-called “Friends” for all time. The growth Tia’s gone through also gives her the strength and courage needed to put her dream aside and tell Naveen about her feelings for him. And because she’s a true friend, Charlotte shows no hint of bitterness about missing out on her “happily ever after” with Naveen -- instead she immediately is supportive of her friend and tries to fight for her happiness, to the extent that she looks over the moon when Tiana and Naveen get married as humans. Even Ray, who Mum wishes desperately had been able to make it, achieves happiness by finally becoming a star beside his beloved Evangeline. As our film comes to an end with a reprise of “Down in New Orleans,” we’re left with a sense of triumph and optimism...two things that embody our newly crowned princess beautifully.

The Princess and the Frog is a movie that, in Mum’s and my opinion, should receive much more appreciation that it has. Financially speaking, it only did about as well as The Great Mouse Detective and Lilo and Stitch in theaters, but it still has left a lasting impact. I still see plenty of little girls dressing as Tiana in the parks, and I still hear about young black women and girls who have found validation and comfort in the first African American Disney princess. Even I, who share a complexion with white bread, find Tiana an engaging, brilliant role model in today’s world -- in Mum’s words, she embraces the idea of success being half inspiration and half perspiration, but she also learns the virtue in disregarding the chase for success when it comes at the cost of your values. She learns how to love, how to grow, and how to change, while also encouraging the best from those around her. The Princess and the Frog also features what I would argue is the best Disney animated villain since the Disney Renaissance, a soundtrack that embraces its setting to the Nth degree, and a prince who grows just as much as his love interest does while they are together. It’s not a perfect film, but no film is, and Mum and I hope that like other Disney films that didn’t make much money on their initial theatrical releases, we as a Disney fanbase can make this movie a cult classic and give it the love it fought so hard to earn and so rightfully deserves. Look how it lights up the screen -- ma belle Princess and the Frog!

Victor Hugo’s classic novel Notre Dame du Paris, called The Hunchback of Notre Dame in English, seems like a very odd inspiration for a Disney animated family film, and that’s because...yeah, it is! When the Disney animators first brought Hunchback to the table, they were less inspired by the original Hugo novel glamorizing the architecture of Notre Dame cathedral, and more inspired by a graphic novel adaptation of the story, which was likewise much more influenced by the 1939 Hollywood film adaptation. Because of the historical context that 1939 adaptation was made in (premiering at Cannes during the rise of the Third Reich), themes of social justice were added to a story that originally was about how the “edifice” can outlast the flaws and sins of mankind. The “social justice” element is something that Hugo interestingly put more in his follow-up to Notre Dame du Paris, the epic brick book Les Miserables, but has since been similarly tied in the public consciousness to The Hunchback of Notre Dame, despite not existing in the original book.

The project was already an odd choice for Disney to take on thanks to the darkness of the book, but the political themes also were unique for a Disney picture as well. It clearly was a more “adult” endeavor, even though thanks to the success of previous projects like Aladdin and The Lion King, there were studio mandates demanding more comic relief, and even the marketing team was reluctant to advertise Hunchback as anything other than a family film. Rather than showing the artistry and darker scenes, the marketing almost entirely focused on the Feast of Fools and the gargoyles, highlighting the “Ugly Duckling” aspect added to the story and downplaying the more adult themes. In the end, it’s likely thanks to those poor marketing choices and the inconsistent tone of the picture that this movie failed to find its audience on first run. It only earned $21 million worldwide, compared to Pocahontas’s $29 million and The Little Mermaid’s $84 million, with mixed critical and audience reaction. Although it was nominated for an Academy Award for its music and won several others, it was noticeably less successful than other installments in the Disney Renaissance, and even now, Disney often doesn’t give Hunchback that much attention. Like Quasimodo, the film has been sort of locked up in its own tower...but now, today, I aim to bring The Hunchback of Notre Dame out of the shadows and give it the appreciation it deserves.

Our film begins in complete darkness, accompanied by resounding church bells and the amazing vocalizations of the English Opera Company, and from the very beginning, I’m just enveloped by the embrace of Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz’s unbelievable score. Choral music in general has always been something special in my family. My mum and dad were in choirs a lot of their lives: they even first met when they joined the San Diego Master Chorale in the 80′s. Choral music remains one of my mother’s greatest loves and passions, and when I saw Hunchback, it made the choral music my parents loved so much, which focused around a faith I hadn’t been raised with and didn’t believe in, that bit more accessible to me as a child. Mum, who studied Latin in college, went on to teach me about all of the chants and phrases Menken and Schwartz added to each song so that I could more appropriately sing along. It remains one of those Disney soundtracks that cemented our close bond, and I’ll always treasure being able to see the La Jolla Playhouse production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame with my mum and getting to hear the amazing choir and instruments live.

The Bells of Notre Dame, as an opening number, cannot be matched in how it introduces us all to the story, characters, themes, and tone of the piece. In just a few minutes, the music and lyrics perfectly showcases our setting, the theme of what makes a man, the atmosphere of fear and injustice, our villain, and our hero. Menken and Schwartz previously worked together on Pocahontas, but Hunchback in my opinion easily outstrips their previous collaboration. The use of church bells of all sizes to convey the solemnity, mystery, and grandeur of the cathedral at the center of the proceedings, and the clever use of Latin phrases -- it’s just unbelievable! As one example, in the sequence where Frollo (a judge in this version, as opposed to the Archdeacon) chases Quasimodo’s mother up to the stairs of Notre Dame and she pounds on the door, crying for help, the choir sings “Quantus tremor est futurus quando Judex est venturus,” which means, “What trembling is to be when the Judge comes.” And sure enough, the line comes to a horrible, horrified halt when Judge Frollo snatches the woman’s child away and throws her to the ground.

After one of the most epic musical introductions in a Disney film, we meet our sweet, gentle hero, Quasimodo, voiced by Tom Hulce, who is just such a ray of sunshine. Although I loved hearing Michael Arden as Quasimodo on stage, Tom Hulce will always be my Quasimodo. When I was a teenager, I went through a horrible “hating the world” phase where I only ever saw pain and suffering and felt not only powerless to make anything better, but worthless as well. During that time, I turned my back on a lot of the things that had brought me joy, feeling almost unable to enjoy them anymore. One of the very few exceptions, however, was this movie and especially the character of Quasimodo. When I was at my darkest points, Quasimodo never failed to bring me some light, not because he was particularly funny, but because for all of the misery in his circumstances, he never faltered in being gentle, creative, and kind. Looking back on how I’d been, I wish I’d had just a shred of Quasimodo’s grace back then. I wish I hadn’t allowed myself to fall into despair and resentment. Since I can’t go back, however, I keep Quasimodo in my mind sometimes whenever I’m going through something difficult. He’s kind of become a guardian angel of sorts to me, reminding me that my life is a precious gift and I shouldn’t take anything for granted. And really, I couldn’t do that if not for Tom Hulce and Quasimodo’s supervising animator, James Baxter. I truly am grateful to both of them for giving me a character that even now can be a symbol of everything I wish I could be.

Unfortunately along with Quasimodo, we also meet the gargoyles, Hugo, Victor, and Laverne. As a kid, I actually liked the gargoyles all right, but as an adult...yeah, they really break the mood. Badly. The worst offender is easily Hugo, which is a shame because I like Jason Alexander as a performer, but he just goes way too over-the-top-obnoxious. It would admittedly not be as bad if it were clear that the gargoyles were all in Quasimodo’s head, but Djali sees Hugo come to life at one point and they later help Quasimodo fight off the guards. I greatly prefer the way the gargoyles are handled in the stage production, where all of the saintly statues have their own voices that nonetheless reflect what Quasimodo is thinking and when Quasimodo hits his lowest point before Esmeralda’s execution, he forcefully banishes them out of his head.

Even though the comic relief is handled poorly, I certainly cannot say the same for the villain. Judge Claude Frollo is easily one of the most evil villains in Disney history. Tony Jay’s vocal performance is just chillingly resonant, commanding your attention and making you subconsciously shrink in on yourself whenever he speaks. It makes for a despicable, cold, cruel man -- the antithesis of a father, the true embodiment of a monster. Frollo is often compared to Mother Gothel from Tangled in how they both lie to, control, and emotionally abuse their charges (Quasimodo and Rapunzel, respectively), but I personally find Frollo so much worse than Gothel, because he not only cuts Quasimodo off from everyone, but he indoctrinates a gentle, kind soul like Quasimodo in his racism and intolerance against those different from him -- including Quasimodo’s own people, the Romani. Mother Gothel hoards Rapunzel away like a dragon hoarding treasure -- Frollo treats Quasimodo like a burden, beating into him that no one else would want him and that Frollo was such a “good man” to take him in. It’s just vile.

And now we come to my single favorite Disney song of all time -- Quasimodo’s aria, Out There. From the time I was little, this song spoke to me like few others did. Growing up, I was an only child with a huge imagination surrounded almost entirely by adults and who had a lot of difficulty relating to kids my age. I often liked being on my own, but it didn’t change how I often felt different and detached from the people around me, and as I got older, that feeling only increased. I moved a lot in my childhood, making it difficult for me to plant roots, and I rarely followed trends or popular norms, so I constantly stayed in the fringes of the crowd, enviously looking on at those who could fit in more easily than I could. I always tried to hide my insecurities, but they were still there, and when those insecurities took hold, I would often imagine the world being a place where I could be myself, just like Quasi does. Quasimodo’s longing to be “part of them” and lamentation of people being “heedless of the gift it is to be them” has always resonated with me, and even though it’s hard for me to sing Out There without shifting octaves, my heart swells every time I hear it.

The Captain of the Guard, Phoebus, is easily the biggest liberty that Hunchback adaptations have made with the original novel. The book version of Phoebus was more like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast than how he’s portrayed here, but I frankly have no complaints. Kevin Kline is wonderfully dry and witty in the role -- he’s more than a match for Esmeralda, being brave, noble, and sarcastic with seemingly no prejudice for those different from him. And then yeah, as for Esmeralda herself...as Phoebus says later, “what a woman!” Esmeralda was one of my very favorite Disney heroines as a kid, and she still is. The character of Esmeralda is often rather saint-like in her incarnations, but here we see both the “angelic” and “demonic” sides of her -- she’s fiery, but kind; rebellious, yet noble; anti-authority, but patient; distrustful, yet loyal. In the musical adaptation, when Esmeralda is first revealed, we hear Frollo, Phoebus, and Quasimodo sing this about her --

Frollo: She dances like the Devil!

Phoebus: She dances like an angel --

Quasimodo: An angel!

Phoebus: -- but with such fire!

Frollo: Such fire!

All Three: Who is she?

This is Esmeralda’s characterization and her relationship to the three male main characters in a nutshell. Quasimodo only sees the best of Esmeralda; Frollo only sees the worst of her; and Phoebus sees her for everything she is...as a person. And this is why she ultimately chooses Phoebus, unlike in the book where she solely chooses Phoebus because of his looks.

When we reach the Palace of Justice, I’m reminded that I have yet to accent how absolutely stunning every single background is in this movie. Yes, the animation overall is wonderful, whether in the character animation or otherwise, but there are few Disney films that have more atmospheric and beautiful backgrounds than this. It serves to give the movie such a wonderful depth and makes the setting feel that much richer and deeper. Admittedly one weaker aspect of the animation is the now-slightly-outdated CG background characters. They were made by taking a handful of templates and then mixing up their clothes and colors, so as to multiply them ad infinitum and make the crowds of Paris look bigger and more colorful. Even with that, though, you do sort of have to look carefully at the background crowds to notice, as there are lots of hand-drawn characters sprinkled in in front of those CG models that help obscure their repetition and awkwardness. Those CG crowds also make the city of Paris look appropriately overcrowded and huge, so I’m glad that they used the technology even if it was still so in-progress at the time.

Even though Topsy Turvy starts off so fun and festive, however, it soon devolves into a terrible riot where Quasimodo is bound and tormented by the crowd. I admit, the transition is a little abrupt, but it still works for me, as people can be so easily swept away by mob mentality and those in power -- namely, Frollo’s guards -- sometimes flaunt their authority by putting down others. Fortunately Esmeralda is there to save Quasimodo and give Frollo a much-deserved verbal smackdown. The following scene, though, is another example of the mismatched tone, stretching out Esmeralda’s escape with a lot of comic “hijinks” that don’t really add anything to the film and kind of serve as a big time waster, especially after it abruptly cuts off and turns much more solemn and sad as Frollo silently confronts Quasimodo and Quasi returns to Notre Dame in shame.

Hunchback’s focus on religion is, in my opinion, one of the things that made producing an adaptation of Hugo’s novel such a bold decision. I’m not a religious person at all (Agnostic and proud), but it was still really meaningful to me to see both the good and bad associated with religion, represented by the Archdeacon and Frollo respectively. Frollo, along with Pharaoh Seti from The Prince of Egypt, taught me as a kid that evil is not always self-aware and, more importantly, how much more dangerous evil is when it garbs itself in godliness and righteousness. That’s a valuable lesson, regardless of your religious faith. God Help the Outcasts may invoke God’s name, but it could just as easily be a prayer to the world, or even just to you as an individual. The Christian faith preaches that we are made in God’s image...so when Esmeralda asks God to help her people, maybe she’s in truth asking you to try to be the loving God they need.

Something unique about Hunchback is the wonderful friendship that develops between Esmeralda and Quasimodo. From the time I was very little, I made friends with both boys and girls, so it was so wonderfully refreshing to see a story where a girl and a boy became such close friends and supported each other so much. Yes, admittedly, Quasimodo is romantically interested in Esmeralda, but when he sees how much she loves Phoebus, he both accepts their relationship and treasures Esmeralda’s friendship all the same. He doesn’t wallow in bitterness upon Esmeralda not choosing him; he loves her all the same as the first real friend he’s ever had. Esmeralda truly loves Quasimodo and treasures their friendship too -- her choosing Phoebus romantically is never framed as her teasing Quasimodo or leading him on; she simply loves Phoebus and Quasimodo in different ways. And that I find so unbelievably cool. I also like that in Esmeralda’s and Quasimodo’s conversation on the roof, there are some strains of the deleted song Someday in the instrumental accompanying the scene -- you can hear a R&B variation of Someday in the film’s credits, but originally it was meant to replace the more religious God Help the Outcasts, only for God Help the Outcasts to be chosen over it. I agree with the filmmakers’ decision, but I still like Someday too. Quasimodo’s helping Esmeralda and Djali escape Notre Dame by climbing down the towers also beautifully foreshadows Quasimodo’s dexterity in climbing down to save Esmeralda at the end of the film.

Quasimodo and Frollo are both enthralled with Esmeralda, but as mentioned previously, they each only see the angelic and demonic sides of her, which is best encapsulated by the dual numbers Heaven’s Light and Hellfire. Heaven’s Light is appropriately sweet and pure, but I can’t beat around the bush here: Hellfire steals the show, not just from Heaven’s Light but from all other villain songs in Disney history. The song starts with a choral chant praying for forgiveness, which then segways into Frollo’s demented, mad raving about his lust, fear, and hatred for Esmeralda. The words are almost terrifying in their level of conviction and paranoia, which then devolves into vindictive, destructive mania, framed by the mournful echoes for “mercy” from the choir.

Right after Hellfire, we get one of my favorite instrumentals on the soundtrack called Paris Burning. The choir’s bustling, dramatic cries trimmed by the tense strings and horns of the orchestra just evokes fear and horror as Frollo terrorizes Paris. Then Phoebus finally takes a stand, refusing to set fire to the miller’s house and then, after Frollo does it himself, leaping in to save the family from the flames. In the musical, this whole sequence is accompanied by the amazing musical number Esmeralda (which honestly, every fan of this movie should listen to, it’s really worth it), but the film handles it unbelievably well with only a short scene and an instrumental that sears the final “Kyrie Eleison” into the audience’s ears like a fire brand.

Sadly, after this amazing, epic sequence, we once again are subjected to tonal whiplash when we return to the bell tower and the gargoyles decide to sing Quasimodo a song to cheer him up. Although I maintain Hunchback has one of the best soundtracks ever recorded, what stops it from being flawless is this song. A Guy Like You is not an inherently bad song on its own, but when combined with the rest of the soundtrack, its melody, tone, and out-of-place pop cultural references are just ridiculously jarring. It’s like we’ve been transported into a completely different movie, one less inspired by a classic French novel and a critically acclaimed film about social justice and one more inspired by Disney hits of the day like Aladdin and later projects like Hercules. As sad as it is, it’s kind of a relief when it’s over and we’re brought back down to earth by Esmeralda carrying a close-to-death Phoebus into Quasimodo’s tower.

Frollo’s arrival after Quasimodo agrees to hide Phoebus is excellent in its suspense. We can sense Frollo’s suspicion, and all the while, we’re so worried for Phoebus hiding under the very table he and Quasimodo are sitting at. Then Frollo, who we’ve only ever seen as cold, conniving, and controlled, bursts into a rage the kind of which we’ve never seen before, and for a second, he’s a demon himself. After his rage is spent, he sets his cruelest, most terrible trap yet: using Quasimodo’s feelings for Esmeralda so that he can capture her and the rest of the Romani. And at first, Quasimodo almost doesn’t take the bait, thanks to a short-lived pang of self-pity. At first he’s bitter about his heart being broken and considers not helping Esmeralda, as there’d seemingly be no “reward” in him doing so...but the feeling is quelled in seconds by the memory of Esmeralda and how much her friendship means to him. Quasimodo’s selflessness and goodness wins out in its struggle with his more selfish instincts...and this, in the end, is what makes Quasimodo a hero in my eyes.

All right, I guess with our entrance into the Court of Miracles, I should address the elephant in the room. I’ve called Esmeralda’s people “the Romani” in this review, but throughout the entire film, the term is substituted for the admittedly-period-appropriate slur “Gypsy.” I knew nothing about the Romani culture when I first saw this film and I profess no intimate knowledge of it now, but even with that, I have to acknowledge that this movie doesn’t always showcase the Romani in the best light. Although Quasimodo’s parents, Esmeralda, and (to a degree) Clopin are given relative sympathy, the sequence in the Court of Miracles doesn’t do much to endear them to the audience. These victims of persecution are not really given the focus they deserve: we never learn much about their culture or about why they’re persecuted, and we don’t really get to see how they live their lives as ordinary people. To someone who doesn’t know anything about the Romani, I don’t think this film would be the best introduction to their culture and heritage.

Our climax is accompanied by the best instrumental track in the film, Sanctuary! Whenever I hear this piece, I have to stay completely silent, drinking in every single line and note, so as to properly absorb its brilliance. The track has accompanied a lot of my writing in the past: it’s always helped me when I was writing a powerful, emotional climax, whether through the emotion it wrought from me or just from wanting to write a new scene to the music. This entire sequence, from a musical, writing, animation, and character point of view, is I think what made Disney decide to make this film in the first place. The pacing -- the character animation of Quasimodo tearing down the pillars -- the drawn backgrounds of Notre Dame -- the camera whirling over the never-ending crowd’s heads and up onto the cathedral as Quasimodo hoists Esmeralda over his head -- this is the heart of why the movie was made and what the entire film was building up to. This resistance against injustice and the protection of our sacred, historical institutions from hatred and cruelty is what Hunchback is and should be all about. Occasionally this battle scene is inter-spliced with comic bits that once again aren’t really necessary and kind of stick out (Laverne’s Wizard of Oz reference and Hugo’s impression of a fighter plane in particular are out of place), but it doesn’t ruin anything for me. Fortunately as the climax grows darker with the arrival of Frollo and the transition from Sanctuary! into And He Shall Smite the Wicked, the gargoyles take a backseat, and we get focus where we should’ve always had it: on Quasimodo, Esmeralda, and Frollo. Thanks to his love for his friend Esmeralda and the realization of his own self-worth, Quasimodo finally stands up to Frollo and breaks free of his poisonous influence once and for all. This line of Quasi’s has always stuck with me --

“All my life you’ve taught me the world is a dark, cruel place...but now I see the only thing dark and cruel about it is people like you!”

Even now this line is just so powerful. There was a point where all I saw of the world was its cruelties and injustices...but like Quasimodo, I’ve come to see that those cruelties are not inherent to the world or even to mankind as a whole. Humans are capable of both great evil and great good, but as long as the evil people of the world are allowed to seize control and exert their toxic influence over everyone else, the world and mankind overall will never become better. Like Quasimodo, we must stand against those who’ve embraced cruelty and hatred over acceptance and love. We must protect the brighter parts of the world that evil so wishes to snuff out. It’s a moral I think has only become more relevant and important over time.

Unlike in the book and musical, Esmeralda survives, and as much as I’ve heard people try to argue Esmeralda living is not true to the spirit of the original novel, I think it really suits the story being told and really feels just for both characters. Quasimodo deserved happiness; Esmeralda deserved happiness; and most importantly, this all the more highlights how different Quasimodo is from Frollo. Frollo says to Esmeralda, “Choose me or the fire” -- basically, if he can’t have her, he doesn’t want anyone else to...but Quasimodo doesn’t think that way. He cherishes Esmeralda and her friendship without any caveats or conditions: therefore him losing Esmeralda, whether to Phoebus or to death, doesn’t prompt him to commit suicide like he did in the novel. It’s not only a more uplifting ending, but I think a lesson in the selflessness of love, even if it’s just platonic love. And because Esmeralda loves Quasimodo just as much as a friend, she leads him out into the sun, where he finds even more of the love he deserves from the city he wished so much to belong in. Quasimodo doesn’t get the girl, but that was never what he wanted in the first place: it was merely to be accepted as he was.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame was one of the most formative films of my childhood, right up there with Beauty and the Beast, The Prince of Egypt, and Anastasia, and it remains my second favorite Disney animated film of all time. With time, I’ve seen more and more of its flaws, but those flaws don’t ruin what in the end is one of the most daring, revolutionary projects Disney Animation has ever tackled. Its artistry, from the backgrounds to the character animation, is exceptional; all of its major human characters are multi-faceted, complex, and real; its themes are eternally relevant and powerful; and its score and nearly all of its songs are just through the stratosphere in their quality. Hunchback, along with Beauty and the Beast, made me fall in love with France from afar as a child, a love affair that has only become more and more intense through the years, and Quasimodo and Esmeralda even now are so close to my heart. I wish so much to be as kind and gentle as Quasimodo and as brave and noble as Esmeralda, and I can only hope that at some point, if I ever visit Disneyland Paris, I might finally meet them. The Hunchback of Notre Dame may not have gotten the appreciation it deserved when it first came to theaters, but I’ll always be happy to hear Disney fans remembering it as fondly as I do. Who knows? Maybe someday, the world will be wiser and will give this film its time in the sun at long last.

Production-wise Mary Poppins is in some ways the culmination of everything Walt Disney learned in his thirty-year-long film-making career. It adapted a classic, whimsical story as an charming, emotion-heavy screenplay, like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs -- it featured a fresh-faced, but extremely talented young singer in the title role, like Sleeping Beauty -- it seamlessly combined animation with live action, like Song of the South -- it had state-of-the-art special effects, like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea -- and it featured music by two songwriters who later went on to write Disney film scores for decades. But all of that started with a tiny, little spark. As a little girl, Walt’s daughter Diane had started reading the Mary Poppins books, and when Walt read along with her, he was absolutely enchanted by them and knew he wanted to adapt the stories for the silver screen. All the way back in 1938, one year after the release of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Uncle Walt had his first meeting with Mary Poppins’s creator, P.L. Travers, but as anyone who has seen Saving Mr. Banks knows, the two did not see eye to eye. Uncle Walt spent the next twenty years trying to convince Travers to give him the rights to her stories, but unlike in the film where they had a sincere meeting of the minds, Travers recalled their final meeting where she gave him the rights as being more like Walt “holding up a gold pocket watch and dangling it tantalizingly in front of [her] eyes.” Admittedly one factor in the situation was that Travers herself had been having some financial trouble, and Uncle Walt’s payment for the rights to her books, as well as a portion of the gross profits for a film adaptation, was a boost that Travers severely needed. Despite the rights being given to Disney, however, Travers retained script approval rights, and for the next few years of production, she had quite a few complaints about the product. Even at the premiere of the film -- which, incredibly, she had not originally been invited to until she shamed a Disney executive into action -- Travers was very vocal about how much she disliked the film. The animation, done by some of the best in the business? Had to go. The story, which created such memorable and likable characters? Lacked teeth. The score written by the young Sherman brothers, who later went on to win awards for both Poppins and their other works? Left her cold.

Now, here’s the thing...do I agree with Ms. Travers? No. Do I like her as a person? No -- one would be hard-pressed to really admire a woman who decided to adopt half of a pair of twins from a poor family, raise the boy thinking he was her biological son, and then try to prevent her son from seeing his twin when the twin came to see him. (Yes, she really did that.) Do I think she was a malcontent who probably wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything? Absolutely. But at the same time, I must acknowledge, as a writer myself, it can be very difficult to share your creations with others. It can be hard even letting others read your works, given how personal and emotionally resonant the things you create often end up being, but it’s even harder letting others add onto your work. In a way, it’s like giving your child to a babysitter, except that unlike babysitters, most filmmakers who aim to adapt books don’t have a great track record in respecting the author or their vision. And in regards to Walt Disney specifically, his studio has never exactly been very interested in “staying true to the original story” -- the Walt Disney Company adapts the heck out of anything it touches. Even more modern Disney projects based on books like Ella Enchanted and Tuck Everlasting are great examples of this (if you’d like to delve into those films as adaptations, please look up Dominic Smith/The Dom’s wonderful Lost in Adaptation episodes for them -- they’re both fabulous!!). And in a way, Travers never saw her magical nanny as something light and cheerful -- this was an immortal woman who in later books once took the Banks children up into the Heavens on Midsummer’s Eve. Like the famous 1939 film adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, there was definitely some dry wit and edge lost in translation from book to screen...and just like with The Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins the film has largely taken the place of the original novels in the public consciousness.

But you know something? For what it’s worth...I think that, just like The Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins succeeds in being a well-written, well-directed, well-performed, classic film, even if it’s so different than the book it was inspired by. And honestly, the world seems to agree. Mary Poppins grossed over $28.5 million at the box office, making it the most profitable film of 1965, and completely won over both critics and audiences alike. Even now at Rotten Tomatoes, it still boasts a rare 100% Fresh rating. It was nominated for 13 Academy Awards and won five (including Best Picture, which made it the first and only film Walt ever produced to win that honor) and also earned both a Golden Globe and two Grammys. Not only that, but the profits for the film were so high that they helped Uncle Walt fund his “Florida project,” which would eventually become Walt Disney World Resort. Mary Poppins later went on to inspire both a Broadway musical and a sequel, Mary Poppins Returns, and even today you can still meet both Mary Poppins and Bert in the Disney theme parks. So yes, “I recognize Ms. Travers had her opinion, but given that it is a stupid-ass opinion, I’ve elected to ignore it.”

PFFT, I’M KIDDING, ONLY KIDDING. Let’s talk about Mary Poppins.

Perhaps it’s appropriate that from the very beginning, the overture embraces us with the melody that will become the story’s main theme, Feed the Birds. The overture, like all the best Sherman brother overtures for films like Bedknobs and Broomsticks and The Sword in the Stone, is just a smooth, glamorous kaleidoscope of music. I also have to applaud the special effects team right off the bat with their overlaying of Julie Andrews as Mary onto the mat painting of London underneath our opening credits -- even now, when one can more easily guess how the trick worked, it’s still rather neatly done.

In this opening sequence, we also meet Bert, played by Dick van Dyke. The character of Bert was actually a compilation of several figures from the books, but that results in a very interesting, almost transient sort of character. This cheery, optimistic Jack of All Trades may have an accent that wouldn’t convince anyone, but is nonetheless unbelievably charming, and van Dyke’s physical comedy is so ridiculously on point. My mum and I have had a soft spot for Dick van Dyke for a long time because my late grandfather, although he was quite a bit older, resembled him quite a bit not just in appearance but also in attitude. Even now I look at Bert and fondly remember going to see the Broadway production of Mary Poppins with my grandparents, who ended up loving it and its music just as much as I did. It all the more makes me lament the end of the Soundsational Parade at Disneyland, which always concluded with a Mary-Poppins-inspired float covered in chimney sweeps and merry-go-round horses, one of which was ridden by Bert.

One of the changes that Ms. Travers was most disdainful of was the idea that the Banks family -- especially Mr. Banks -- had flaws that needed to be addressed and fixed by Mary Poppins. The flaw in the parents’ case is that they’re so focused on their own work and goals that they neglect their children’s emotional needs -- a plot point that would eventually get beaten into the ground in films that came later, but is not done half bad here. After all, the film doesn’t try to frame Mr. Banks’s job or Mrs. Banks’s activism as unimportant or bad in any way -- it’s just that the parents are solely focusing on those things. Mrs. Banks’s activism in particular, which is something that doesn’t appear either in the books or in the Broadway production, is something I really like. Sister Suffragette, which actually helped bring Glynis Johns on board to play Mrs. Banks, is just such a ridiculously fun song to sing. Although I wouldn’t ever say it’s the best song in the film by a mile, it’s still insanely catchy and entertaining, and I sing along to it every single time. WOMANKIND, ARISE!

David Tomlinson, who plays Mr. Banks, is easily the weakest link singing-wise, but fortunately he gives an acting performance that more than compensates for his poor vocals. From the very beginning, he comes across as incredibly pompous, self-centered, detached, and sexist, and yet he’s never shown to be an inherently bad person. He can be very cheerful, and even the way he’s framed makes it clear that a lot of his bluster is a front for his actual feelings, such as the way he falters when he realizes that Katie Nana has left the family. In the wrong hands, this role could’ve been despicable and shallow, but Tomlison handles it carefully enough that one can always see the emotion and suppressed softness in his eyes even long before he has his change of heart.

After an excellently paced entrance that involves effortlessly blowing away the line of nannies outside 17 Cherry Tree Lane, we are finally fully introduced to the magical lady herself, Mary Poppins. It is unbelievable when you remember that this was Julie Andrews’s first film role ever -- she’d previously only been a stage actress, but after finding success in both My Fair Lady and Camelot on stage and being denied the role of Eliza Doolittle in the film adaptation of My Fair Lady (which was later given to Audrey Hepburn), Julie accepted the role of Mary Poppins. Interestingly Julie was the only actor in the movie that P.L. Travers actually expressed some approval for, and honestly, I don’t blame her -- Julie is just flawlessly cast here. The role combines all of her performing strengths -- a great singing voice, expert dancing, inherent charm, sophistication, intelligence, pride, grace, and a touch of sass -- together in a cohesive, memorable character. Mary’s first song, A Spoonful of Sugar, really showcases Julie in her prime, spotlighting her flawless falsetto and precise pitch (as well as her impeccable whistling), and beautifully accompanies some of the at-the-time-revolutionary special effects. Although yes, it’s easy in the modern day to see how the effects were done, they’re never out-of-place or distracting, which is a testament to how much better practical effects can sometimes age in comparison to computer-generated effects. The things that tend to stick out most to my eyes are the green-screened stuff, simply because of how much that particular technique has been used in film and television since Mary Poppins’s release, but the nice thing is that it’s only one of many effects used, which helps in distracting the eye away from getting too used to one effect. Sometimes the effect will be stop-motion; sometimes the effect will be reversing the film; sometimes it’ll be green screen; sometimes it’ll be combining separate shots together. It makes it so that you would have to watch every scene several times and very carefully in order to pick out specific techniques, rather than just being able to go, “That’s fake, that’s fake, aaaaand...that’s fake,” the way you can while watching movies using only CGI.

Speaking of special effects, we have to talk about the sequence that made P.L. Travers the most upset -- the Jolly Holiday segment, set in an animated, living chalk drawing. Not only is the song just excellent, but the colors and energy of the piece are...well, practically perfect! It only serves to plus a song that was already pretty great and turns it into something amazing. Something else I like about Mary and Bert that I actually have to thank P. L. Travers herself for is that they are not romantically involved. Ms. Travers specifically indicated that that should be the case, and for a film made in the 60′s when male and female characters were almost always neatly paired off, it’s really neat that the two characters, despite some faintly teasing, flirty affects, never act like a couple. And really, having had both male and female friends since I was a kid, I really enjoyed seeing an attractive leading woman and man as friends. On the note of Mary, Bert, and songs I love singing along to, I would be very, very amiss if I didn’t also bring up Supercalifragalisticexpeliadocious. It’s really a very short number, but packed into it is so much energy that it feels like it never takes a breath. It’s like a sugar buzz, written into song form -- exuberant and big and loud and energetic...at least until the inevitable decrescendo as the rain wears away Bert’s chalk drawing and Mary, Bert, and the Banks children sadly return to the real world.

Our next adventure with Mary takes us to dear old Uncle Albert’s, where the aforementioned uncle, played by Mad-Hatter-voice-actor Ed Wynn, is rolling in the air laughing. This scene in particular showcases the various practical effects used in the film, whether hanging the actors on wires, putting them on one side of a seesaw, or even flipping the entire set on its side or upside down. Admittedly it’s very obvious that Katie Dotrice and Matthew Garber, who play Jane and Michael Banks, are having a harder time laughing convincingly than Dick van Dyke and Ed Wynn, which honestly is unsurprising given how many times they had to film this particular scene so as to get different shots. One story from the set of this film centers around Matthew Garber, after getting tired of recording the scene, receiving a nickle every time he had to go back onto the wires and in the end earning an “absolute fortune.” For child actors, Katie and Matthew aren’t awful, but it’s fortunate that they’re almost never the sole focus of a scene, as the more talented adult actors understandably overshadow them. And before you try to tell me it’s unfair to hold child actors to the same standards as adult actors, I grant that that’s true, but child actors can still give good performances that make them stand out as individuals...take Georgie Henley in The Chronicles of Narnia or Kirsten Dunst in Interview with a Vampire, for example. And as much as I’ll give Katie Dotrice and Matthew Garber credit for their performances, neither of them quite stands out that way. It’s admittedly a little harder for me to be that critical of Matthew’s performance, though, given that ten years after he retired from acting, he sadly passed away of pancreatitis at the age of 21. It’s very fortunate that thanks to his performance in Mary Poppins, Matthew will be remembered fondly for generations to come.

Walt Disney’s favorite song is frequently cited as Feed the Birds, and honestly, it’s little wonder why. As I touched on earlier, the song sort of sums up what the film Mary Poppins is trying to say -- that the smallest, seemingly insignificant gestures can mean so much. And isn’t that so integral to Disney, or even movies and entertainment in general? We all know of a character in a movie or TV show -- a line in a book -- a song someone wrote -- a simple smile from a stranger -- that somehow brightened up our whole world, that inspired us in ways we could never have imagined. And all of that comes back to sincere, gentle feelings, and how we can share those feelings with others. Mary Poppins, in short, is about compassion...and isn’t it little wonder why such a message resonated with so many people?

After an absolutely disastrous visit to the bank, the Banks children run out into the streets of London alone, where they’re fortunately found and walked home by Bert. Accompanying the jaunt back to Cherry Tree Lane is the Academy-Award-winning song Chim Chim Cheree, which is definitely catchy and, if I may say so, very fun to whistle. I admittedly am a little sour with Mrs. Banks that she doesn’t get a bit of a reality check when she ends up choosing to leave Michael and Jane alone with someone who’s effectively a stranger to her to go help her suffragette friends. It’s just fortunate that the “stranger” ends up being Bert and that Mary Poppins ends up coming back despite it being her day off, as otherwise Mrs. Banks’s negligent parenting could’ve had serious consequences. But the leap in logic does end up leading us into one of the best parts of the movie -- Step in Time!

Step in time, step in time, come on, matey, step in time! Hahaha, yes, this sequence easily has some of the best dancing ever recorded on film, right up there with the choreography in West Side Story and Singin’ in the Rain. It’s especially remarkable when you know that prior to Mary Poppins, Dick van Dyke had had no formal dance training, and yet he keeps up seemingly with ease with dozens of professional dancers. It blows me away every time. And despite the unending repetition of the song, it miraculously never becomes annoying due to the variety of the dance breaks and the high level of energy with which it’s performed. And really, despite the insane length of the song (it running over eight minutes all together), it amazingly never feels like padding. Perhaps it’s because the talent on screen is just so on display and integrated so perfectly with the building orchestrations and well-chosen special effects that it only serves to plus the musical action more and more and more until it finally culminates in the chimney sweeps escaping down the Banks family’s chimney and dancing off into the street.

As fun as everything has been with Mary Poppins and the chimney sweeps, however, Mr. Banks is now in danger of losing his job at the bank, and Tomlinson’s talent is made very evident once again in how, even after seeing all of his character’s mistakes and faults, we still feel very sorry for both him and for his family. Mr. Banks at first feels the impulse to blame Mary Poppins for his change in circumstances, but thanks to some pointed guidance from Bert and some compassion from his children, he comes to see the cracks in the foundation of his world view. And this goes back to the entire family needing help -- Mr. Banks is a very, very flawed man, but at the same time, as Bert brought up to Jane and Michael, he feels he has to handle absolutely everything on his own, and it’s largely thanks to the support of his children that he’s able to face the threat of losing his job with his head held high. Something I love a lot about the part where Mr. Banks makes his way to the bank alone is the Feed the Birds instrumental that accompanies his walk and that comes to a head when Mr. Banks reaches St. Paul’s, only to see the bird woman no longer there. Whether you choose to read it as the bird woman simply having left or having died or whatever else, it’s clear that every opportunity for charity and kindness we are offered is fleeting. Compassion is and will never be a passive thing.

Fortunately everything turns out for the best. Mr. Banks makes up with his children and he, Michael, Jane, and Mrs. Banks go fly a brand new kite in the park, alongside the film’s final song Let’s Go Fly a Kite. Mr. Banks even ends up getting his job back thanks to a joke that he told Dawes, Sr. the night we sacked. Even despite the cheer, however, it doesn’t feel completely saccharine and lacking of substance to me because Mary Poppins does still leave in the end. She doesn’t achieve the same kind of happy ending that she gave the Banks family -- instead she simply takes off into the air, presumably to give some other family help, with a faintly sad smile on her face. It’s remarkably mature of an ending for something that P.L. Travers thought was “all fantasy and no magic.”

Mary Poppins is not that much like the Mary Poppins books originally written by P. L. Travers. Perhaps at some points it sanitizes or misses out on what inspired Ms. Travers to write the books in the first place...but for all that is lost, I’m confident in saying that a lot was also found. There is a lot of heart in this movie, from a family growing and improving through the intervention of a wise, magical woman to finding deeper meaning in the seemingly insignificant things in our everyday lives. This movie is ridiculously fun to watch, but it’s not like the book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, where there was never supposed to be a point and it was just there to entertain children. There are lessons one can learn here, and they’re not heavy-handed or pretentious in their delivery. One can learn the value of a sunny disposition, resilience, and empathy in less than stellar circumstances and see how a family full of love is the wealthiest and luckiest of all. And the best part? Those are lessons that both children and adults could stand to learn and re-learn through watching this movie for many, many years to come. Mary Poppins is an immortal figure, and even if this film was made by human hands and so couldn’t possible recreate P. L. Travers’s vision of her, the film is just as eternally relevant itself.

To properly contextualize what a special film The Little Mermaid is, one first has to understand where the animation department at Disney was before the film was produced. To put it simply, it was on death’s door. Not only had the films been taking longer and longer to make, but they were also making less and less money. The Nine Old Men who had helped build the animation department had all retired, but their influence still lingered at the Burbank studio, casting its long, dark shadow over the new, younger staff that had trained under them. Being a Disneyland Cast Member myself, I can testify that the Disney company in general (and quite a few Disney fans too, actually) has a thing for tradition -- we love our heritage and it’s not unheard of for us to be reluctant to change. One only has to go to Disneyland and ask a Cast Member or even just one of our Annual Passholders about MuppetVision 3D closing, and it’s very likely you’ll get a rather disappointed, mournful response.

But yes, at the company in the 70′s and 80′s, the common mantra had been “What would Walt do?” -- but sadly, when the new kids at the animation department tried to follow that mantra, they just couldn’t seem to produce classic films like the kind Uncle Walt and his Nine Old Men used to make. The Rescuers was originally suggested by Don Bluth and a team of younger animators, but was ultimately scrapped and later picked up and produced by Disney veterans like Wolfgang Reithermann, John Lounsbury, and Ken Andersen. The Fox and the Hound, which was a joint project between the old and the new guard and directed by veterans Art Stevens and Ted Berman and newcomer and future Swan Princess director Richard Rich, was such a disaster in its production that it prompted Don Bluth and his friend Gary Goldman to resign from Disney altogether, and the finished result was only considered “average” by the film-going public. Worst of all, The Black Cauldron -- a movie that the new animators tried very hard to make their own and to take risks with, but which was dramatically censored and cut down by a horrified Jeffrey Katzenberg (oh yes, Mr. Katzenberg, I’ll be getting back to you) -- was such a box office bomb that it lost to The Care Bears movie on its opening weekend. Ouch. By this point, the animation department had been booted from the old, historic animation building that all the old Disney classics had been made in and were banished to a set of trailers. And yet somehow, out of those trailers and out of such disgrace, came Disney’s comeback. The opening acts -- The Great Mouse Detective and Oliver and Company -- were both moderately well-received despite not keeping time with Don Bluth’s rival projects An American Tail and The Land Before Time...but then came the big one -- she’s our mermaid, Ari -- !

Ahem. Okay, before we actually go into the movie proper, though, we should ask how and why The Little Mermaid turned out as well as it did. Who do we have to thank? Well, admittedly, one person who does deserve some credit is Jeffrey Katzenberg, the fresh-faced Hollywood hotshot who had been brought in as the new head of Disney’s animation department at the time. As much as one could scorn Katzenberg for having had no knowledge of how animated films were even made before taking on the position and for being so obsessed with following what was popular at the cost of upholding tradition or artistry, I’ll be the first to admit that in this particular situation. he was right to dissuade the animators away from simply trying to follow in Uncle Walt’s footsteps. After all, no one can know what Walt would do if he were still here, and more importantly, even Walt dreamed of progress: you can’t move that far forward if you’re constantly looking behind you. Although Katzenberg and CEO Michael Eisner did provide an appropriate kick in the pants at the studio, however, the people I truly thank for The Little Mermaid’s success are directors John Musker and Ron Clements and songwriters Howard Ashman and Alan Menken. Ron Clements first brought a story concept for The Little Mermaid to the floor, and after Katzenberg said yes to it, Musker and Clements set off on the project in earnest. The two had previously worked together on The Great Mouse Detective and were very excited to work on The Little Mermaid -- what really sparked the film to life, however, was Broadway icon Howard Ashman also being brought on board. Not only was he a wonderful lyricist with a lot of connections to great Broadway talent (including Ariel’s eventual voice actress Jodi Benson, who had previously been cast in Ashman’s show Smile), but he was also an excellent story man. Ashman was very enthusiastic about the project, loving the thought of making a musical film that could possibly “fit comfortably” alongside Pinocchio and Snow White and (I suspect) identifying quite a bit with the protagonist who struggles against familial and societal expectations and wants so desperately to be part of this exciting, beautiful world just out of her reach.

Thanks to the work by these four men, as well as all of the amazing actors and animators, The Little Mermaid was a monster hit. It earned almost $85 billion worldwide, won two Academy Awards for its soundtrack, and was nominated for four Golden Globes. It demolished Katzenberg’s painfully corporate presumption that it wouldn’t do as well as Oliver in Company had because it was a “girl’s movie,” and even now it boasts a 93% Fresh rating at Rotten Tomatoes. Kids loved it -- adults loved it -- and most of all, my parents loved it. My mum and dad hadn’t been big Disney or animation fans previously, but originally decided to go see it because of what they’d heard about the soundtrack. It turned out to be one of the best “date movies” they ever saw. Thanks to the Little Mermaid, my mum and dad purposefully went to go see every new Disney musical in theaters when they were released, and from Aladdin on, they took me with them. So in a strange way, I have The Little Mermaid to thank for my family and me becoming Disney fans!

With all this said, let’s finally go ahead and dive in! (Pun fully intended.)

The movie begins with Fathoms Below, a sea shanty that appropriately sets the mood for the fantastical tale to come, only to melt away into the ethereal, rippling tones of the opening titles. The Little Mermaid’s overture, which echoes Ariel’s solo Part of Your World, is just...heavenly! There is honestly no better word for it. It so captures the beautiful, mysterious, colorful aura of the ocean, beckoning you in and filling you to the brim with wonder and enchantment...and then the rising tide of notes comes to a head with the reveal of the first merman, rising into frame little by little, then being joined by countless other mermen and women, and finally leading us with the others to the castle of Atlantica. The entire sequence is just breathtaking, and watching it even now just awakens the little girl inside of me who loved playing pirates and mermaids in my bathtub.

Alas, when we reach Atlantica, we come across a concert ending in disaster with the lack of its star soloist. And where should that star soloist be but exploring sunken ships with her best friend, a guppy fish named Flounder? I must admit, Ariel and I have a very interesting relationship. When I was a kid, I adored Ariel, her movie, and especially her TV series -- I loved her singing voice, I loved her adventures and interest in learning more about the world, and I loved her TV-original friends, like Archimedes, Gabriella, and Urchin. Then as a teenager, I got much more cynical and became a rather standard misanthrope. Although yes, I struggled with some very real problems and very dark feelings, I also rather unfairly looked at the things I’d liked when I was younger and only saw their flaws and thus mercilessly criticized them. Very few of my childhood Disney films and characters got through that phase unscathed (really, I think the only two were Beauty and the Beast and The Hunchback of Notre Dame), but Ariel and The Little Mermaid probably got tarnished the most. For someone who had to struggle with a father who dropped out of her life from an emotional standpoint and who was so starved for his love and attention, Ariel’s rebellion against her father and running away to land for a guy she’d never spoken to came across very badly to me as a teenager. Because I could never fathom making the choices Ariel did, I saw her choices as flat-out wrong...but with time (and hopefully wisdom), I’ve come to see that I was being ridiculously unfair. Even if yes, I wish Ariel and Eric’s relationship had had more development (heck, that Eric got more development, period!), Triton was not my father, and I was not Ariel. Ariel loved Eric, yes, but she’d loved humans ages before laying eyes on him -- she longed to be part of *that* world long before wanting to be a part of *his* world, and really, if it weren’t for Triton so effectively destroying their relationship when he wrecked her grotto and for Ursula sneakily suggesting that Ariel run away to land and marry Eric so she could be human permanently, well, how do we know Ariel wouldn’t have stayed a mermaid longer and/or spoken to Eric more first? Before the Under the Sea sequence, she even considers going up to the surface again to tell Eric she’d been the one who saved him, only to be interrupted by Sebastian. Heck, how do we know that Ariel wouldn’t have chosen to go up to land even if she hadn’t met Eric? And honestly, Ariel’s romantic interest in Eric is only touched on every-so-often in the movie -- whenever Ariel interacts with humans or their stuff, whether under the sea or on land, her passion for their culture and their inventions ripples all over her face and in every line she speaks. Ariel loves humans overall and Eric specifically -- and what’s hilarious is that for all the criticism people love to throw at Ariel now, at the time of her film’s release, Ariel was considered revolutionary and fresh compared to previous princesses, all supposedly because her story and motivation didn’t “solely revolve around finding her prince charming.” (Not my sentiment, by the way, just trying to make a point that every new generation claims their princess is the first one to be feminist and “ahead of her time.”)

Anyway, once we’ve met our heroine, we also meet our villain and resident sea witch, Ursula, voiced by the marvelous Pat Carroll. Pat delivers such a scrumptiously wicked performance in this film, one right up there with Eleanor Audley’s as Maleficent, Jonathan Freeman’s as Jafar, and Keith David’s as Dr. Facilier. One thing I also just want to touch on in this paragraph are her eels, Flotsam and Jetsam -- they may be ridiculously creepy in this movie, thanks in no small part to how much they remind me of snakes mydeepestandgreatestfearhelpme, but I also must commend how they’re drawn. Something that I actually found very enchanting upon going to an aquarium recently after a long time is the mesmerizing way that eels trail through the water, looking so weightless and graceful that they resemble ribbons sliding through the depths...and yeah, that’s exactly how Ursula’s hench-eels move!

When Ariel returns home, we set up our central conflict -- Ariel loving and longing to be closer to humans and their world, while her overbearing father, King Triton, fears and hates them. It’s a very bold choice to have the main character arc not originate from our protagonist, but instead from her father learning to respect her decisions and be more open-minded. One critique I do have for Triton’s arc, however, is that we really don’t see as much of it as we could, since he only really is shown once after Ariel goes up to land, where he is desperately searching for her and is clearly upset about what’s happened. It’s a wonderful scene, but I would’ve personally loved to have a song that better showcased Triton’s thought process while Ariel was missing, like the If Only quartet written for the Broadway musical. Maybe the new LA remake could consider putting that quartet in for Ariel, Eric, Sebastian, and Triton? (I nominate James Monroe Inglehart and Idris Elba for the roles of Sebastian and Triton. <3)

Ahh, and now...now comes the song that every single female Disney fan, regardless of age, knows by heart. When I work in the Animation building, people like to sing along to the songs played on the giant movie screens, and without fail, the song that everyone sings along to is not I See the Light, A Whole New World, or even Let It Go, but Part of Your World. And honestly, I can totally see why. It is just a perfect “I Want” song -- its words are evocative and almost like a stream of consciousness, and yet full of such passion and yearning as well. It speaks to a love and desire for knowledge and independence -- and geez, isn’t that something so many young people understand? It can speak to you at so many stages of your life, whether you’re a child yearning to make friends, a teenager seeking your place in life, a young adult about to head off to college, an adult trying to save up for your first house -- really, any time at all, if you seek something just beyond your reach! I think this is why even now I hear so many little girls saying Ariel is their favorite Disney princess -- yes, she’s a mermaid and that’s cool, but she is also full to the brim with curiosity and a love of life and new things. She’s so youthful of spirit, and her wonderful attitude can inspire similar youthful feelings in the hearts of those who follow her story.

While talking about Part of Your World, as well, I think it’s also a great time to discuss this film’s amazing soundtrack in general. Disney musical soundtracks in the past had always been much more Tin Pan Alley or vaudeville-inspired, in the way that the songs would be more subdued and often separate from the dialogue preceding it, rather than being climatic and devolving smoothly out of dialogue as one often hears in modern Broadway productions. Look at the difference between songs like Jolly Holiday or A Dream is A Wish Your Heart Makes versus ones like Part of Your World or Under the Sea. But that transition in how Disney films use music beautifully reflected the changing landscape of musical theater and music in general, while also tying the music more tightly to the story and characters. Something like Once Upon a Dream could theoretically be placed in a completely different story than Sleeping Beauty and still work. But Part of Your World, as written, could only ever be sung by Princess Ariel of Atlantica. Poor Unfortunate Souls could only ever be sung by Ursula the sea witch. It’s something Disney movies even now have still embraced, and we can completely thank that shift to Howard Ashman and Alan Menken.

As I touched on earlier, I personally find Eric far less interesting than Ariel. The film does establish Eric as not being very interested in royal protocol or expectations and being far more interested in legends of the sea and sailing. He also comes across as kind of laid-back (largely thanks to his dress and posture) and loves his dog, Max, and music (as seen by him playing the flute and being so enamored of Ariel’s voice)...but yeah, I don’t know, he still comes across as a little bit bland to me. He is certainly nice, but I guess I would’ve preferred to see a little more passion and action from Eric that didn’t directly involve Ariel (like his yearning to find the girl who rescued him or the final battle), the way Ariel’s love of humans and the human world helps define her. Maybe if we got to spend more time with Eric before Ariel appeared and/or showed Ariel and Eric bonding over a shared interest in music, it might help Eric stand on his own as well as Ariel does.

There’s a reason why Under the Sea won an Academy Award, and it’s because it’s effin’ amazing. Howard Ashman’s expert wordplay is on full display here, with every line being rapid-fire, witty, and unbelievably creative. It’s a song you need to listen to multiple times if you have any hope of catching every awesome lyric and every clever rhyme. Couple that seamlessly with one of Alan Menken’s best orchestrations, and you have a song that when performed well just makes you want to wiggle and bounce with joy. Every time I ride the Little Mermaid ride at Disney California Adventure and I reach this sequence, I can’t resist singing and swaying along to the rhythm.

Although I question how the heck Flounder got Eric’s statue into Ariel’s cave in the first place, I admit, I still get a laugh out of Ariel’s play-acting around it. That amusement is quickly quashed, however, by the arrival of King Triton. His and Ariel’s confrontation is very hard to watch, full of raw frustration, desperation, anger, and horror. It’s this scene that some like to use to depict Triton as an abusive father, and although destroying a child’s possessions is an indisputably cruel and horrible thing to do and even Triton’s anger issues were clearly harmful to Ariel, I’m more the kind to place him in the “bad parent” category as opposed to “abusive,” if only for the fact that 1, we only see Triton act this violently in this very extreme circumstance and 2, Triton not only immediately regrets his action but actively tries to make up for what he’s done. I remember hearing a story from one of the Disney animators about a letter he’d received about a father seeing the film and it prompting him to call his daughter who’d he been estranged from for years, and I can definitely see how one can understand both Ariel and Triton’s perspectives, even if Ariel’s is pretty clearly the more sympathetic. Ariel is young and rash and doesn’t consider her own mortality or how worried her father is for her safety, but Triton is completely unreasonable and fails to listen to Ariel or respect her opinions. I still wouldn’t mind seeing Ariel go through a bit more of an arc the way her father does in the LA Little Mermaid remake, though -- as much as Ariel is right that Triton shouldn’t be prejudiced against humans, Ariel shouldn’t have just barreled into a deal with the sea witch without thinking, and the only acknowledgement she makes of this is a really quick “Daddy, I’m sorry” when she’s captured by Ursula, which isn’t really a full apology or realization. Even if it was more balanced between the two, with both growing from their experiences and getting focus and development (kind of like the LA Aladdin did for Aladdin and Jasmine, actually), it might make their reconciliation at the end mean more. 

Once Flotsam and Jetsam come across Ariel and lure her to Ursula’s grotto, our sea witch finally gets the chance to shine with her epic number, Poor Unfortunate Souls, which is one of the best Disney villain songs ever written and recorded, second only to Frollo’s Hellfire. It climaxes with Ariel vocalizing as her voice is stolen in a truly haunting piece of animation, and then with a CRASH, Ariel reaches the surface, breathing her first breath of air in her brand-new lungs. And sure enough, when Ariel lays eyes on her feet and legs for the first time, her face is alight with pure, childish elation. It makes it so clear that she’s not just in love with Eric -- she’s also so fulfilled even just being up on land at long last. This scene is also where Sebastian finally turns a page in his relationship with Ariel. Before Ariel got her legs, Sebastian was solely focused on what Triton would think about the situation and what he would want...from this point on, however, he’s solidly in Ariel’s corner and can really be considered her friend.

Even though Ariel can’t speak in Jodi Benson’s wonderful, charming voice anymore, we still never are left in doubt about how she feels thanks to Glen Keane’s amazingly expressive animation. We see and feel her joy -- her longing -- her awkwardness -- her shyness -- her curiosity -- her excitement -- and she also comes across as wonderfully (if not purposefully) funny at points. (I actually find the scene with Ariel, Eric, and Grimsby much funnier than the following comic scene with Sebastian and Chef Louie. Really, a lot of the comic relief that comes from the side characters, like Sebastian, Flounder, and Scuttle I don’t find that funny.) The timing in Ariel’s reactions is just expert and reminds me, yet again, why Glen Keane is one of my favorite Disney animators of all time.

Ariel and Eric’s date is accompanied by one of my other favorite instrumental tracks from the movie called Tour of the Kingdom, which just flutters and flairs with such romanticism and spontaneity. In my mind it’s the accompaniment of the best kind of date -- one exciting and full of little surprises, and then trailing off with the promise of something greater to come. And that “something greater” turns out to be the song Kiss the Girl. Some people like to try to bring up that if Eric can understand Sebastian, the crab could just tell him what’s going on even if Ariel can’t, but honestly, it’s a plot hole that I think is silly to harp on. It doesn’t really break my suspension of disbelief that much, and if Eric couldn’t understand Sebastian, then we’d miss such a nice song, so you know, who cares? (As a side, Ariel would actually make a very nice Diana or Rachel, good name ideas, Eric.)

Sure enough, though, it can’t be as easy as we think it’s going to be. Flotsam and Jetsam prevent Ariel and Eric’s kiss and Ursula decides to take action, by transforming into a pretty Ariel-look-alike called Vanessa. Something that I really like is that before Vanessa shows up, Eric is about to throw away his obsession with the “girl of his dreams” and pursue a relationship with Ariel. In a funny way, it turns the prince’s decision in the original fairy tale on its head. In the original Andersen tale, the prince chooses the human girl who discovers him on the shore over the mermaid who actually saved his life. He never finds the girl with the haunting voice in the fairy tale and finds happiness without her -- and in this version, Eric probably would’ve made the same choice by choosing Ariel, without realizing that he would find the girl of his dreams by accepting Ariel as she is. Of course Ursula hypnotizes Eric with Ariel’s stolen voice, leaving Eric as the dude in distress in need of rescue from Ariel and her animal friends. I must applaud Jodi Benson for making “Vanessa” so thoroughly unlikable even while speaking in her charming voice -- it makes it so that when her voice returns to Ariel, it feels so perfect and right.

Unfortunately Ursula’s Vanessa ploy does succeed in running out the clock for Ariel, and Triton redeems himself for how badly he treated his daughter by sacrificing himself to save her. Eric is able to injure Ursula before Ariel has to save his life for a second time, and Ursula, empowered by the King’s magical trident, swells up to the size of a giant sea monster. The final battle in the ocean waves is actually really intense, with the sky a turbulent swirl of black and purple and the once serene blue waves now a demented green and lavender, before it crashes to a head with Eric stabbing Ursula in the heart with the figurehead of a raised sunken ship. The climax goes by a little quickly for my taste, but the emotions still run high. Our happy end comes with the completion of Triton’s arc, where he both accepts Ariel’s love for Eric and gives her the freedom to chase her own happiness. As the chorus sings, now Ariel “can walk,” “run,” and “stay all day in the sun” with her true love, Eric, and she’s also been able to grow closer to a father who she once was afraid to show all of herself to and who had so hated the world and culture she so longed to be a part of. It’s truly the ending our little mermaid deserves. 

Whenever Disney has been in major financial trouble, it is often a princess who comes to its rescue. When Walt Disney risked everything he owned to finish the first full-length animated film ever made, Snow White became the first blockbuster in movie history and kicked off a Golden Age of Disney animation. When the Disney studio was set to close after barely making any money during World War II, Cinderella was a huge hit that signaled the beginning of the Silver Age. Much more recently, The Princess and the Frog, Tangled, and Frozen helped kick off what fans call the Disney Revival. And of course, in this situation, Disney animation was set to close its doors for good, with the staff being banished to a trailer on the Disney lot, only to be saved by a brave, adventurous, beautiful sea princess. The Little Mermaid is a landmark Disney film and even with its minor flaws, it remains one of the shiniest, most precious gems in Disney’s crown. Its animation is stunning, its story is well-paced and written, its heroine is unbelievably relatable, and its music is just as memorable and evocative as it was back in 1989. I don’t really think it needs to be remade anymore than Beauty and the Beast or Aladdin needed to be, but I am cautiously optimistic to see how Halle Bailey brings Ariel to life in her own way. In the meantime, however, I’ll always enjoy revisiting the original and letting it carry me to the edge of the edge of the sea.