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If the urban myth about Walt being stored in suspended animation somewhere beneath the Orlando branch of the Magic Kingdom for the day his body can be thawed out and repaired (in the meantime, why don't Disney engineers just stick his brain in one of the heavy-duty animatronic figures from the Hall of Presidents or Mr. Toad's Wild Ride? Wouldn't that be cool? One week he could be Grover Cleveland, the next Cousin Leb from the Country Bear Jamboree, the next an iguanodon from Dinosaur, and on special occasions Belle from Beauty and the Beast -- there were those rumors about old Uncle Walt, you know. It would be a treat to see him in any guise doing a little chat again to open the Sunday night TV show -- standing proudly behind a model of the new Disneyworld Zimbabwe, beaming in a comforting paternal fashion like in the old days, maybe bending an iron bar with his teeth...) is true, he must have a smile on his cryogenically frozen face right now. Sixty years after the first Fantasia became what was all along supposed to have been only the first in an ongoing series of animated musical anthologies, the second edition has finally seen light of day.
You can almost forgive The Mouse for such mindless drivel as Pocahontas and Rocketman when the company is willing to put some of its merchandising profits into a showcase for the aesthetic possibilities of all that artistic talent they have slaving over drawing boards around the world. Which is somewhat ironic, since the 1940 iteration owes its existence largely to economic factors. The "Sorcerer's Apprentice" segment was initially supposed to have been released as a stand-alone short, but wound up costing so much to produce that the only practical way to recoup the company's investment was to build a full-length feature around it; they did it really right, however, and crafted what is universally recognized as a milestone in animation. Whatever the impetus for its evolution, Fantasia 2000 honors its creators' advertised vision; it is a work of art. Not quite worthy of the Louvre, but a genuine work of art nonetheless.
Structured like the original, with an abstract opening set to a German composer, an apocalyptic good. vs. evil finale set to a Russian composer, and dancing animals and Mickey in the middle, 2000 opens, after a neat intro of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra tuning up while clips from past sequences tumble above their heads, with ink-and-paint non-corporeal shapes flitting around to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony like escapees from a technicolor Etch-A-Sketch. In the second movement, "The Pines of Rome" by Respighi provides backdrop to a trio of flying whales cavorting across a sea- and skyscape of icebergs and cumulus clouds.
Things really get going with Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue" as a wave form from that slinky first clarinet note spins off to trace a Depression-era Manhattan skyline populated by characters modeled after the style of celebrated caricaturist Al Hirschfeld (as was Robin Williams' genie in Aladdin). A musically inclined riveter, a bleary unemployed schlub, a nagged Walter Mitty-ish husband, and a harried little girl-child, each driven by a peculiar but related angst, dream of diversion from some particularly burdensome shard of reality. Another excellent piece follows, Hans Christian Andersen's heroic tale "The Steadfast Tin Soldier" (set to "Piano Concerto No. 2" by Shostakovich), wherein a brave but damaged little musketeer attempts to defend a beautiful ballerina doll from the unwelcome attentions of a menacing jack-in-the-box. The fifth segment is the most whimsical, a brilliantly gorgeous, hand-drawn pink watercolor romp to Saint-Saens' "The Carnival of the Animals" (one of these days I hope they utilize the composer's "Danse Macabre" too) that answers the eternal question, "What would happen if you gave a yo-yo to a flock of flamingos?"
To provide contrast and continuity, the original "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," taking both music and title from Dukas, comes next; though not the highlight of the 1940 version, it's the one that most people remember. Still, comparing its painstaking use of multi-plane cameras, a technique pioneered by Disney in the 1930s to give the studio's artwork a signature depth, to contemporary cartoons is like comparing Botticelli to Warhol; the spreading back- and foregrounds make most contemporary animation look jealously flat. Plus, it's nice to see Mickey again, since he hasn't shown up on the big screen since playing a supporting part in A Goofy Movie five years ago. Speaking of jealousy, Mickey's perpetual competitor Donald Duck finally gets equal time in the penultimate sequence, a retelling of the tale of Noah's ark set to four Elgar marches, including "Pomp and Circumstance," playfully orchestrated by Peter "P. D. Q. Bach" Schickele. Closing, in the spirit of the original's "Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria" is a strikingly beautiful embodiment of Stravinsky's "The Firebird Suite," depicting a capricious sprite battling the titular mythological beast.
If not in content, Fantasia 2000 does make more concessions to pop culture in its arrangement than did the original. Short narrative bumpers from Steve Martin, Itzhak Perlman, Quincy Jones, Bette Midler, James Earl Jones, Penn & Teller, Angela Lansbury, and Mickey (including footage voiced by Walt himself, who created the Mouse's squeaky tenor) punctuate the movements. And the length of each piece, tailored to contemporary attention spans, is shorter; the original used nearly two hours to present seven segments, while this one fits eight into 30 minutes less time.
Whatever that says about latter-day brain chemistry, this film is still a delight from start to finish; outside of the woefully brief glimpses of the nominees for Best Animated Short on the Oscars every year, we rarely get the opportunity to see animation treated as art. It will be interesting to find out how many people show up for its four-week-only run, which follows the limited IMAX release last January. The original version never made a profit until Disney began to re-release it periodically in the late 60s, when it found an audience among pot-heads and audio/cinemaphiles. So will your kids like this one? That's hard to say; it's probably not a good sign that you won't find any bouncing triangles or flying whales on Happy Meals these days. B+
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