Preface: Before you watch Fantasia, ask yourself if you enjoy classical music. If the answer is, "No," then move on. If the answer is "Yes," keep reading.
At one time or another, the Walt Disney Company has attached the word "classic" to virtually all of its product, trivializing the meaning of the word. Fantasia, along with a handful of other Disney features, probably deserves that title more than most. Not a perfect film by any means, it is a great example of how Walt Disney pressed for technical and artistic innovation well into the early 1940s. While a stunning achievement, its highbrow tone will likely turn off many prospective viewers. Unlike Amadeus, which is an enjoyable mainstream film that turned many on to Mozart, Fantasia's ponderous nature (especially the inserts with the conductor) isn't likely to send any nonclassical fan running to the classics section of the local CD shop.
An anthology of vignettes connected only by classical music, Fantasia was unlike any animated film up to that time. Previously, classical music was sent up for laughs (as in The Band Concert) or used as public-domain theme music (as in the use of Hungarian Rhapsody in multiple Warners cartoons). Fantasia was an attempt to wed the film technology Disney had developed to the majesty of the great composers. In Movie-Made America, Skylar recorded the curious trend in which Hollywood moguls of poor Eastern European backgrounds latched onto American and British classic books as source material for their films. Walt Disney, the hardworker from the heartland, seems to fall into this category. While born in America, Disney's humble background kept him well outside the circle of high culture. Fantasia, like roughly contemporary versions of David Copperfield and Wuthering Heights, represents an outsider's passion for self-discovered classics, and a Herculean attempt to prove capable of interpreting classic works. Armchair psychologists may proceed from here.
So how does Fantasia hold up? If you enjoy classical music (as I do), you will probably enjoy the film. Rest assured that the orchestration is top-notch, and that the classical works remain unscathed by the film. Fantasia impressively matches the animation to the mood of the music; Bach is represented with hulking abstractions while the Ponchelli sequence contains the high comedy of hippos, alligators, and ostriches performing a ballet. The Ponchelli sequence, along with the famous Sorceror's Apprentice sequence, captures the traditional charm of Disney's short subjects with vastly improved character animation and special effects. In fact, few films since can boast of such amazing character animation. Each of the animal types in The Dance of the Hours moves completely differently, for example, and Mickey Mouse's animation as the Apprentice reveals an expressiveness few live actors could hope to master; Mickey not only poses his body with the best of them; he also has an amazingly expressive face. Much of the character animation in current feature films pales by comparison.
The Nutcracker Suite is reinterpreted with a miniature world of fairies, snowflakes, Chinese mushrooms, and ice skating - Disney surely deserves credit for avoiding the temptation to merely animate the existing ballet. The demon lord of Night on Bald Mountain puts most filmed portrayals of Beelzebub to shame, and the ethereal nuns in Ave Maria look back to Friedrich's paintings while prefiguring Matsumoto's angelic heroines. The only misstep occurs with Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, as the pleasing Art Deco centaurettes and fauns seem far too sacchrine for anything Beethoven composed; the humor in this sequence is far from sharp and the characters are too cartoony for the Art Deco landscapes.
In essence, then, Fantasia is not only an anthology of classical music perennials, but also a sampler of virtually all mainstream animation styles. From fairy tales (Nutcracker) to funny animals (Dance of the Hours) to shockingly dramatic (Rites of Spring) - Fantasia has them all. It is amazing to remember that just a few years earlier, the Disney crew was churning out peppy slapstick. It is perhaps even more amazing to note that Fantasia's animation is still state-of-the-art. True, there are no computer graphics in the film, but you probably wouldn't notice unless someone told you. The effects that Disney's animators accomplished through careful draftsmanship, clever camerawork, and mechanical know-how are beyond compare. The special effects animation (the rippling water, lightning, lava, and snow flakes) are enough to take your breath away. Preston Blair's work on the Ponchelli sequence is enough to make you appreciate the art of animation all over again.
Had Fantasia been a universal box office success during its initial release, the history of animation in the USA would most likely have been different. We would have possibly seen a truly serious animated film under the Disney banner before the 1960s, and perhaps the current "animation revival" would be unnecessary. Fantasia was far from universally hailed, and Disney soon retreated into less ambitious anthology films (such as Fun and Fancy Free) and reclaimed his position as the 20th Century's foremost reteller of great fairytales. Perhaps it was too experimental for its time; given the fact that most serious adult-oriented animation in America has failed, Fantasia might even be too experimental for our time, as well.
Fantasia, while adult-oriented, contains little that is objectionable viewing fare for children, save for the terrifying Night on Bald Mountain sequence. Much of the film will probably put them to sleep, however; the decision to open with an abstract sequence and follow with The Nutcracker is likely to terribly bore most little ones.
The film's chief flaw, perhaps, was straying too far from the Disney formula. Instead of including a strong story - the hallmark of Disney films - Fantasia served up a series of vignettes and tone poems. Only The Sorceror's Apprentice has much of a plot. The lack of a coherant story may disorient some viewers; it is significant that Fantasia* became a late 1960s cult item after Yellow Submarine's trippy excesses. While one can appreciate the free hand Disney exercised in creating visuals for the classics, one can also be annoyed at the extreme liberties taken in interpreting the classics.
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Other NonAnime Reviews Prince of Egypt Review* Quest for Camelot Review Sleeping Beauty Review * Space Jam Review Tex Avery Screwball Classics Review* |
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