Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

4/4 stars

When looking at cinema and its history, you will be hard-pressed to find a film more significant than Disney’s Snow White. Without it, what would we have today? It paved the way for all animated films produced in the future. Without Snow White there would have been no Pixar, Star Wars, Harry Potter, or the popular influx of superhero movies that we have today. Even The Wizard of Oz would not have been made had MGM not been inspired by Snow White’s success. It brought magic back into the movie theater.

The 1930’s was a rough decade for movies. Aside from the early Universal Monsters and an occasional gem from Hitchcock or Renoir, much of what remains of the decade prior to 1937 are any number of poorly preserved “talkies”; most of which were badly performed and awkwardly paced.

Around the time Snow White came out, the need to redefine cinema was at hand. It happens infrequently throughout the evolution of the art form. When safe bets and stagnation set in an auteur always comes along to remind us of the spectacle that movies were originally made for. It happened in the 1970’s with Spielberg and George Lucas’s Star Wars.
In 1937 the career of Melies – one of the best presenters of spectacle – was long over. Animation at the time was reserved for short subjects and the endeavor to produce a full-length theatrical cartoon like Snow White was considered a big gamble. But, it was a gamble that paid off and movies were never the same again.

The story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is a familiar one. It’s been subject to many other adaptations following the Disney cartoon and it was a well known nursery staple before that. The most popular English form of the Grimm version that inspired the movie was released in 1857. This means that the movie is now older to our current time than the fairy tale was to Disney back in 1937. One might argue that the story is timeless, but if I may be indulged one minor digression, it is my opinion that the original Grimm publication in 1812 (Schneewittchen) was an amalgamation of elements from varying bits of folklore that the Grimm version only compounded and finalized. The story is hardly ancient since the Grimms would have had to make a lot of personal creative choices in its formation. It’s a classic story, but not truly proper folklore.

Literary history aside, the film itself is a work of art. These were the happy days of gorgeous painted backgrounds with animated cels adding liveliness and character to the setting. The film makes minimal use of spoken dialogue, preferring songs to carry the story. The movie makes abundant use of sound in every scene. Often, the musical beats match the beats of the action, letting music replace traditional sound effects. This is particularly seen in Heigh Ho and Whistle While You Work which incorporates the songs’ music into the little visual moments that occur. The mining of diamonds is made with triangles and cowbells and the sound of a tortoise’s laughter is produced with a trumpet. Snow White is one of the most musical of Disney’s productions. It’s like musical theater; a ballet set to the art of animation.

Snow White, the Prince, and the Evil Queen were animated with rotoscoping which was popular at the time. The method had the unfortunate effect of leaving their facial animations ill-defined and it has fallen out of favor long ago. Gratefully the dwarfs and the forest animals are not presented in this way, and they are where the animation truly shines. The saturated color of the animated cels add liveliness and character to the film. They give life and habitation to the beautiful painted backdrops, which unlike rotoscoping, I miss in modern cartoons. The animation gives each of the dwarfs their distinct personalities. They are easily recognized and stand out from each other, which, as fans of The Hobbit will tell you, is a difficult feat.

Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is one of the finest animated fairy tale adaptations ever made. More than that, it is one of the finest films of all time. Unbeknownst to any one at the time, what Walt Disney had accomplished was the future of cinema. It sets the gold standard for how popular films are supposed to be. Its influence cannot be denied. It is as relevant a historical work of art and cultural mainstay as the Sistine Chapel, Wagner’s opera, and the poems of Wordsworth.
In the big picture, film may still be in its adolescence; but Snow White, wherever the arts are respected, will always be among its greatest works.

There has been a lot of talk in recent years of Snow White’s character. Mainly, that she is a misogynistic character type. The general conception is that she lacks personal strength and relies on a male figure to come to her
rescue. In other words, she embodies the damsel in distress motif. However, I disagree with this assessment and I believe the movie deserves a fairer re-analysis. Quite frankly, I think the movie is being grossly misremembered by critics who had not viewed it in a while.
Snow White is shown with a sweet-natured disposition, for sure, and her voice is constantly at a high lilting pitch. She is giggly, bubbly, and extremely positive. But, these are personality traits that some people do have, and per se none of them have anything to do with personal strength. Under her circumstances, though, these traits are more indicative of strength than not. It should be borne in mind that Snow White is living alone with a cruel stepmother after her father had died. Instead of having her spirit broken she remains optimistic and holds onto her ideals of kindness. This is hardly behavior to be expected in the weak.
And the notion that the Prince is some sexist depiction of a male figure coming to her rescue is complete nonsense and not supported by the facts. He only appears in the movie twice, leaving her to spend the majority of the plot doing things for herself. While he does nothing, she survives alone in the woods and takes charge of the dwarfs’ household, becoming their leader. When she sings I’m Wishing, it is not a cry for rescue as modern critics like to claim, but a song of longing. It’s a song about the distance between herself and her lover. It’s a mutually established love and there is nothing sexist about missing the company of one’s partner. His kiss that wakes her from the witch’s curse has been lambasted as an example of non-consent which is just ridiculous when critiquing a fairy tale. In fairy stories we are expected as the audience to suspend our disbelief in love at first sight and we are also expected to accept that they are lovers and that such a kiss was welcome. And I especially don’t want to hear any nonsense about him carrying her in his arms at the end. She was in a coma for a year and her mobility had likely atrophied for awhile. What was the Prince supposed to do? Force her to crawl out of bed Kill Bill-style uphill to his horse?

This may just be my opinion, and others will have their feelings about Snow White, whatever I, or anyone else, might say. What can be agreed on is that movies would not be the same without Snow White. More up-too-date interpretations will continue to come and go and I wish them well. Stories like this were meant to be retold. Even the Grimms were only retelling it. But, better or worse, no retellings of the last hundred years will rival this film in importance. None of them will change the course of the arts like this movie had done. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs marked the beginning of the modern movie.

Directors: William Cottrell, David Hand, Wilfred Jackson, Larry Morey, Perce Pearce, Ben Sharpsteen
Writers: Ted Sears, Richard Creedon, Otto Englander, Dick Rickard, Earl Hurd, Merrill De Maris, Dorothy Ann Blank, Webb Smith
Producer: Walt Disney
Cast: Roy Atwell (Doc), Adriana Caselotti (Snow White), Eddie Collins (Dopey), Pinto Colvig (Sleepy, Grumpy), Billy Gilbert (Sneezy), Otis Harlan (Happy), Lucille La Verne (Evil Queen), Scotty Mattraw (Bashful), Moroni Olsen (Magic Mirror), Harry Stockwell (The Prince)
Composers: Frank Churchill, Leigh Harline, Paul J. Smith, Bernard B. Brown, Edward H. Plumb, Norman Spencer
Editor: Bill Melendez

Fantastic Planet (1973)

4/4 stars

Fantastic Planet is a beautiful and visually arresting piece of counter-culture art. Roland Topor’s animation is like the illustrations of a storybook. Not a single shot is wasted and every frame is a work of beauty on its own. The images have a grim Dr. Seussian quality and are illustrated like a darker version of the works of Maurice Sendak.

The film presents a challenge to our notions of nature and humanity’s relationship with it. The natives of the planet Ygram are gigantic blue-skinned beings called Draags. Theirs is a sophisticated, proud culture where knowledge is highly sought after and meditation is a regular ritual in every household. Humans are also present, but they are the size of insects in comparison and are viewed as little more than dumb animals to the Draags. The humans are called Oms (evidently derived from “homme” the French word for Man), and when they are not being kept as pets they are treated as vermin.
The movie opens with an Om mother carrying an infant in her arms. When she runs into a large blue hand, it’s finger flicks her around like one would an annoying bug. The casual cruelty brings about her death, but a young Draag child finds the Om baby and adopts it as a pet. Their relationship is a playful one, but I would not call it loving. The young Om is prodded and teased like he’s a toy and when the Draag grows into adolescence she becomes bored with him and neglects him. The Om (whose name is Terr) runs away and finds more of his kind in the wilds. These Oms are considered pests by the Draags and are routinely exterminated in a process called de-Ominization.
The Draag attitude toward Oms is not entirely hostile, but it is highly patronizing. Oms make decent pets they claim, but they breed too rapidly in the wild. As sub-Draag animals in their eyes, the Oms have no rights and kindness is afforded them only when it is convenient. In our own culture dogs and cats are loved and treated with familial affection, but little thought is given to killing them should they bite another human being or if they contract a disease. We distinguish them from humans where individual rights come into play. The Draag opinion of Oms is not dissimilar. What is most alarming about the Draag’s ideas about Oms is how sensible they are from their point of view. Why shouldn’t they flick an annoying Om away like a bug if a bug is all they are? Why shouldn’t their nests be subject to extermination if animals is all they are? As long as the Oms are equated with animals the Draags’ behavior toward them is justified. It’s as justified as how we treat animals on our own planet. No crime is committed when we squash a bug. Even when we take satisfaction and enjoyment from the experience. Think on the last time you squashed an annoying beetle. Did it make a popping crunch when it died? Have you ever sucked terrified pests with a vacuum and watched them go? Was it oddly fun and satisfying? In its own way The Fantastic Planet asks these questions. And it adds one more. Could there be something wrong with being so casual about it, let alone enjoying it? The reason we reject these questions is because we accept that they are sub-human species and the act of killing them and even enjoying it doesn’t carry the same moral weight as doing the same to another human being. As long as the Draag maintain this same view of the Oms they are cushioned against any guilt from causing them harm. When we are convinced of our definitions there is moral justification in committing these acts without moral censure. Roland Topor, who also co-wrote the film, knows this better than most. His father was a Polish-Jew who had been one of a small group of survivors of a Nazi death camp. And like the Draags, the Nazis freed themselves of guilt by their definitions. Jews were not human beings to them. Ergo their brutal treatment was justified. Evil doesn’t cackle and twirl its mustache like in cartoons. It moralizes and debates with cold reason.

Fantastic Planet is the sort of film that is only one of a handful of films that comes along in my lifetime. They are the films that challenge me by asking questions that are uncomfortable and difficult to answer. Like most of my species, I was raised to find the question of animal rights laughable at best. Fantastic Planet asks the question and it is not funny at all. It forces the viewer to face the issue even if the answer is not clear. I appreciate art that challenges. I personally think we need more of it. Even were we to fall back onto the opinions we held before, it is no bad thing to reevaluate them once in awhile.

Director: Rene Laloux
Writers: Roland Topor, Rene Laloux
Producers: Anatole Dauman, Simon Damiani, Andre Valio-Cavaglione
Cast: Jennifer Drake (Tiwa), Eric Baugin (Young Terr), Jean Topart (Master Sinh), Jean Valmont (Adult Terr)
Composer: Alain Goraguer
Cinematographers: Boris Baromykin, Lubomir Rejthar
Editors: Helene Arnal, Marta Latalova

The Plague Dogs (1982)

3.5/4 stars

Hope is a powerful thing. It can push a man (or a dog) to achieve more than he otherwise could without it. But hope doesn’t ensure victory and The Plague Dogs is tragically aware of this. By the close of the first act it is clear that nothing that happens in the movie is going to end well.

The film (by the creators of Watership Down and based on a novel by the same author) opens with a dog being cruelly drowned by lab scientists. They retrieve and resuscitate him; and it is explained that they have been doing this routinely. What is involved is an endurance test in which the scientists time how long the poor dog can be kept underwater before being saved. It’s stated that psychology is a factor. The dog, named Rowf (Christopher Benjamin), begins to anticipate the rescues which gives him the endurance to survive the longer and longer periods of simulated drowning. Simpler put, hope is trained into him as a Pavlovian response.
Rowf doesn’t understand why this is being done to him and wonders aloud if he has been a bad dog somehow. His friend, Snitter (John Hurt), has more reason to think so. Unlike Rowf, Snitter was not raised in captivity and once had a kind, loving master. But his old owner was killed by an oncoming truck after he had tried to coax Snitter off the road. Snitter still suffers from bad dreams over the incident and he views the lab and the harsh world they escape into as a sort of purgatory to atone for his past sins. Snitter is not being drowned routinely like Rowf is, but the scientists conducted an experimental brain surgery on him that causes him difficulty in distinguishing reality from his imagination. This causes him to relive his past traumas vividly and he sometimes dives into his own memories of happier days because he thinks he is physically safer there.

Their escape from the lab presents them with freedom, but not much happiness. The English countryside they wander in is to them a stark wild place. The painted backgrounds present wide open fields and stony ground in late Autumn. It’s a cold unfriendly place that requires cold and unfriendly acts to survive. They begin slaughtering sheep for food which gets a lot of angry attention from local herders. It’s not long before the two escaped dogs are on the news and the lab scientists are working hard to find the dogs and kill them. Turns out there is more to the dogs’ escape than killing sheep and inconveniencing farmers. The dogs are revealed to be carriers of the bubonic plague and the scientists have an invested interest in seeing them neutralized.

Rowf and Snitter don’t understand any of this, of course, and they press on trying to find a safe place away from the harsh environment. At first, Snitter holds out in the hopes of finding new masters to care for them, but the harsh reception from the locals dashes these dreams. In the end their only goal is safety. What they find in the end is a world that has rejected them and won’t allow them peace or security.

The driving force throughout the events of The Plague Dogs is hope. But the situation Snitter and Rowf are in is a hopeless one. The film delves into the psychology of hope honestly. Hope does not always bring about victory, but it can lengthen the duration of survival and add endurance. The dogs’ ignorance and their hope gets them as far as it does. But the film’s final note is one of uncertainty and nothing works out for them as they had wished.

The fact that The Plague Dogs is a cartoon can be misleading to the unwary. The painted backdrops give still life realism to the Fall-to-Winter world they dwell in, and the animated cells are not gaudy and colorful like in a Disney picture. The animals and people are drawn with the same realism in mind and they are photographed as if they were live action and not cute cartoon characters. This is also a very violent film that gives tangible reality to the messiness of death. The Plague Dogs, like Watership Down which preceded it, is not a movie for young children. If anything, this film is more traumatizing and dark than Watership Down ever was. That film was about the harshness and sacrificial requirements needed to achieve victory. The Plague Dogs is not about victory at all. Rather, it is about hope in the midst of hopelessness. Their hope carries them far, but never far enough; and there is a stark sort of truth to how this movie handles hope and its value. Most movies cop out with promises of salvation and victory, even if bittersweet and costly. The Plague Dogs is a movie that has the guts to tell us that sometimes things just don’t work out. That is not to say that hope is a dangerous lie. The film doesn’t indict hope at all. But it does say something about being prepared for failure. It’s a rough truth, but a valuable one.

Director: Martin Rosen
Writer: Martin Rosen
Producers: Martin Rosen, Jake Eberts
Cast: John Hurt (Snitter), Christopher Benjamin (Rowf), James Bolam (The Tod), Nigel Hawthorne (Dr. Boycott), Warren Mitchell (Tyson/Wag), Bernard Hepton (Stephen Powell), Penelope Lee (Lynn Driver)
Composer: Patrick Gleeson
Editor: Richard Harkness