Walt Disney's Fantasia (1940) had it all. A revolutionary precursor to the stereo sound system called Fantasound, bold usage of the newly perfected Technicolor film format, a lineup of classical music conducted by Leopold Stokowski, the renowned conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and groundbreaking visual representations of music via state-of-the-art animation from the studio that had dazzled critics and audiences alike with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs three years prior in 1937. The only things working against it: the right timing and audiences for its original theatrical roadshow release. While some publications like The New York Times raved about the film ("a creation so thoroughly delightful and exciting in its novelty that one's senses are captivated by it"), other film critics like Dorothy Thompson from The New York Herald Tribune called Fantasia "cruel", "brutal and brutalizing", and a negative "caricature of the Decline of the West." The film was a significant loss at the box office, losing up to the modern equivalent of $15 million for Walt Disney Productions, which can be attributed to the small number of theaters able to install the costly Fantasound sound system. Nazi Germany's invasion of Poland in the year prior did not help matters on a social and diplomatic level either. World War II was underway and became a growing concern within the public consciousness, thus justifying the general audiences' lack of interest in "artsy" films like Fantasia. The film's financial underperformance damaged Walt Disney's reputation as an up-and-coming filmmaker as some of his next few animated features like Bambi (1942) would meet a similar fate at the box office. However, Fantasia would find new life with a new audience during the 1960s and '70s, where psychedelia and bright colors were defining features of its youth and popular culture. It would also be theatrically re-released several times throughout the twentieth century, given a meticulous two-year restoration for the film's fiftieth anniversary in 1990, and critically re-evaluated as an all-time classic of Disney animation. The film's vibrant and bold use of colors would also be cited as a visual inspiration for popular movies like Doctor Strange (2016) and Frozen II (2019) (both of which are produced and distributed by Disney). While we are still on this topic, my main question is: how did Fantasia's use of color and music aid in Disney's domination of popular culture?
In the words of the late film critic Roger Ebert, "Walt Disney did not invent animation, but he nurtured it into an art form that could hold its own against any "realistic" movie, and when he gathered his artists to create Fantasia he felt a restlessness, a desire to try something new." According to veteran Disney animators Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston in their 1981 book The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation, Walt Disney had an incessant drive to place an individual for maximum creative output, so when he saw an artist's soft pastel illustrations of a fairy spreading dewdrops on plants at night and admired the delicate handling and the glow surrounding the figures, he decided to incorporate those features into the movie, no matter what it took to achieve them. Walt told his artists:
"I say there are possibilities in those backgrounds down there…and with our dewdrop fairy, there's a chance for a different treatment. Get away from vivid colors and get a night color for her…Our backgrounds should be done in a fantastic way when rendering them, so I say, let's open up and give us something that hits us, BOOM!"
This statement would supposedly continue to serve as The Walt Disney Company's status quo of consistently creating and producing content that will not only enchant families everywhere but push the creative and technological boundaries to achieve said status quo. I will discuss the business side of Disney's status quo in further detail later. Going back to Fantasia's behind-the-scenes process, all of Walt's new artists and technicians were left wondering, "How the dickens are we going to get this thing on the screen?" Despite these concerns, Walt's technicians worked long and hard hours studying both the sketches and what their film cameras could accomplish, primarily during the film's "Night on Bald Mountain" sequence, in which they were tasked with not only simulating the wraiths rising from their graves in the sequence's first scene (the technicians devised a method by reflecting the artwork onto a piece of bent tin, much like mirrors in a funhouse) but also to create the long, continuous panning shot featured at the end of the "Ave Maria" segment. A horizontal multiplane camera crane was developed inside one of Disney's soundstages for this sequence, which involved the construction of a unique stand mounted on rubber wheels for the camera which traveled along sixteen feet of track to move towards the individual background elements of the scene, which were painted on panes of glass. Schedule-wise, filming the panning shot was placed towards the end of production due to continuous delays caused by the difficulties in shooting the scene without capturing a single jerk or wobble on film, or breaking any of the glass panes in the process. This scene was completed within four hours of the film's deadline for completion, the New York premiere showing of the film, because of numerous technical flubs such as one of the crew members accidentally putting the wrong camera lens on, which resulted in the camera capturing not just the artwork, but the stands, the track, and the workers running around during the week of shooting, and an earthquake on the third day of filming that caused the filmmakers to start over the next day.
Capturing Fantasia's visual aspect was not the only challenge facing Walt's technicians, as evidenced by the film's Fantasound system. This unique audio setup would eventually prove itself to be a technological breakthrough that would pave the way for today's stereo sound systems and revolutionize the way movies were heard forever. In Walt's own words, he was dissatisfied with the conventional single speaker setups of the day with all the movie's sound coming out from behind the screen, which he described as "thin, tinkly and strainy." "We wanted to reproduce such beautiful masterpieces," Walt continued, "so that audiences would feel as though they were standing at the podium with Stokowski." With the Philadelphia Orchestra and thirty-three microphones surrounding the orchestra, the audio was recorded onto eight optical recording machines that recorded each section of instruments, with a ninth sound channel serving as the click-track function, a process used to synchronize sound with the film. This recording process took up a majority of Fantasia's budget, and it was subject to criticism from several members of the musical community like composer and film critic Virgil Thomson, who took issue with Stokowski's "musical taste." This brings me to the psychological effect classical music has on people's minds, which is best exemplified by Fantasia's fundamentally musical structure. The music does not grow out of, but rather is meant to lead up to the visual forms on the screen. When the human ear receives musical sounds, the sounds carry with them multiple meanings for the brain to interpret, unlike spoken words which dictate to the audience member what the purpose is. For audience members at the time, they were most likely anticipating something socially timely to the current events, like the pro-war propaganda films that were to come in the next few years. However, without either of the film's visual and auditory components, the movie would not only have fallen flat on its face due to the amount of ambition, thought, planning, and effort put into each of this production's particular technical aspects but would have lacked its timeless quality that would continue to influence generations of filmmakers to this day.
One of Fantasia's most iconic moments is also one that defines Walt Disney's legacy as a whole: "The Sorcerer’s Apprentice". In this segment set to Paul Dukas' score of the same name, Mickey Mouse is the apprentice to a creatively brilliant, yet stern wizard named Yensid (an appropriate reversal of Walt Disney's maiden name). Unlike his master, Mickey has a childlike enthusiasm that cannot contain his big dreams of becoming a master himself, and when Yensid leaves, Mickey takes his master's magic hat and brings a broom to life to mop the floors for him. Soon, he dozes off and dreams of himself controlling the stars in the night sky and the crashing waves against the cliff, on which he stands. Metaphorically, Yensid represents Walt's stern, no-nonsense business side, while Mickey stands for the creative genius with the infectious public persona that the world saw Walt as. This scene also takes a turn for the worse when the broom floods the building and duplicates itself, nearly drowning Mickey in the process. It is not until Yensid unexpectedly returns home that the waters subside, does Mickey sheepishly go back to work with his chores, with the newfound knowledge of not dealing with powers which he is not yet ready for, an apt metaphor for any individual, group of people, or company like the current Walt Disney Company indulging in the power they take advantage of without taking any responsibility for the consequences that ensue before justice, the legal authorities, the general public, or a higher power intervenes.
Right after "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" segment concludes, the animated Mickey Mouse runs up to Leopold Stokowski in silhouette form and shakes Stokowski's hand while sharing the following exchange with him:
MICKEY: [Pulling on Stokowski's coat] Mr. Stokowski! Mr. Stokowski! [Mickey whistles to get his attention] My congratulations, sir! STOKOWSKI: [Shaking hands with Mickey] Congratulations to you, Mickey! MICKEY: Gee, thanks! Hehe! Well, so long! I'll be seeing ya! STOKOWSKI: Goodbye!
While captured in silhouette form, this small moment would be instrumental in paving the way for Disney's groundbreaking technique of having animated cartoon characters seamlessly interact with live-action humans in the same shots. Although Fantasia wasn't the first example to incorporate live-action humans into animated worlds (Walt Disney's 1920 short film Alice's Wonderland and his subsequent Alice Comedies series have that distinct honor), Fantasia has the reputation of using that method with Technicolor film stock, which would later be repeated and refined in their later films like The Three Caballeros (1944), Song of the South (1946), Mary Poppins (1964), and Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988) which featured visually vivid and diverse color palettes and memorable scenes of humans interacting with the cartoon universe and vice versa. Not only would this method pave the way for the eventual incorporation of live-action humans into computer-generated (CG) environments in films like Tron (1982), it would be furthered perfected with director Jon Favreau's live-action remake of The Jungle Book (2016), as well as a majority of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) films.
The classic Disney formula for storytelling was perfected in 1937 with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Still, Fantasia elevated Disney to not just a source of entertainment, but an example of high art that showcased exceptional hand-drawn animation. Many of Disney's key concepts, such as having a story focused around anthropomorphic animals with an emphasis on music, stemmed from Fantasia and its "Dance of the Hours" segment, which featured pointe shoe-wearing and dancing ostriches, hippopotamuses, elephants, and alligators. This would be reused in a significant way over fifty years later with The Lion King (1994) and its use of anthropomorphic animals and the film's artistic merits and was a massive hit with critics, popular audiences, and prestigious award ceremonies (The Lion King went on to win two Academy Awards for Best Original Score and Best Original Song in 1995). Fantasia's visual and musical impact applied to Disney's theme parks as well with the Sorcerer's Hat icon formally at Disney's Hollywood Studios' main entrance at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida, the Fantasmic! night show at Disneyland Park in Anaheim, California, and the World of Color night show of lights, water, and visuals from Disney's greatest hits at Disneyland's Disney California Adventure park, which was inspired by the Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color TV show on NBC and Fantasia before it. Walt Disney would continue to experiment with animation as a form of high art with the short film Destino, which was to be a collaboration between him and Spanish surrealist artist Salvador Dali in 1945, but was shelved and remained untouched before the project was finally realized and completed with the backing of then-Disney CEO and executive producer Roy Edward Disney (Walt Disney's nephew) in 2003. However, not everything from Disney's history has aged too well, to put it mildly.
One of Fantasia's unintended contributions to the Disney story is its history of racism and its ongoing refusal to address it. In the original version of Fantasia's "The Pastoral Symphony" segment, there were two characters who were deemed crude racial stereotypes of African American servant girls in the form of centaurs named Sunflower and Otika with dark skin, large lips, and gaps in their teeth which were depicted polishing the hoofs of a white female centaur and bumbling to serve Bacchus, the god of wine and parties. When Fantasia was theatrically re-released in 1969, a year after the Civil Rights Movement, both characters were removed from the film for not only that year’s theatrical re-release, but all subsequent theatrical re-releases and home video releases. This proves to be extra troublesome when considering that the following year's Dumbo (1941) and Song of the South included stereotypical caricatures of African Americans and the American South, respectively, both of which Disney has tried to suppress from public viewing (as of 2020, the scenes featuring the crows in Dumbo remain intact on Disney's new streaming service Disney+, only with a disclaimer about the content in the film's description). Despite Disney's attempts to correct themselves over their questionable creative decisions in the past by refusing to release Song of the South on home video and Disney+, they are avoiding essential and constructive discussions with parents and kids about how certain behaviors and attitudes portrayed in the past are not acceptable now. Film critic Leonard Maltin perfectly summarized this argument for a disclaimer in front of one of Disney's DVD releases of some of their older cartoons, which contain racial and ethnic stereotypes:
"Some people would sweep films like these under the rug; pretend they never existed. We certainly wouldn't want children to get the wrong idea by seeing some of those stereotypes. But Disney fans and enthusiasts should be able to enjoy them intact, and concerned parents might use this opportunity to talk about the way things were many years ago and just how far we've come since then."
Fantasia's visual, technical, and cultural impact on not only Disney's legacy but popular culture is unquestionable. However, the current direction The Walt Disney Company is taking with its strong-arming of its competition through its purchasing of production companies/studios like the American Broadcasting Company (ABC), Pixar Animation Studios, Marvel Entertainment, Lucasfilm, and 20th Century Fox and its subsidiaries, singlehandedly goes against everything Walt Disney initially envisioned his audience to view his company: a leader in family entertainment that emphasized quality rather than quantity. While I find the content that Disney currently pumps out at a relentless pace to be mostly enjoyable, I get the impression that the critical motivations for these films and television shows seem more focused on turning a profit and capitalizing off nostalgia for the market shareholders on Wall Street rather than fully realizing Walt's desire of passing on and innovating the art of animation and storytelling to future generations as exemplified by his co-founding of the California Institute of the Arts (CalArts for short) in Santa Clarita, California. While several exceptional animators and directors like Glen Keane, Tim Burton, and Brad Bird have had their big breaks where their talents and skills were showcased and embraced by the general public through films like The Little Mermaid (1989), The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), and The Incredibles (2004), Disney has yet to focus in on refocusing their original status quo by simplifying their operations down to the story and animation departments.
Aiding in Disney's worldwide influence is its plethora of theme parks, television stations and programs, merchandise, advertisements, and numerous intellectual properties for film franchises (from the Marvel Cinematic Universe to Star Wars). This was ambitious enough ten to twenty years ago. Still, Disney's current catalog and growing presence in the digital streaming world now personifies the company's new identity: the living embodiment of an antitrust nightmare. While it can be argued that the current management at The Walt Disney Company is merely fulfilling the goals of Walt's vision of creating and producing content that can be enjoyed by practically everyone, this issue raises several questions from a legal perspective. The landmark United States v. Paramount Pictures, Inc. case of 1948 was filed against the major movie studios of the day; specifically, Paramount Pictures, which placed restrictions on the amount of power and influence movie studios had on how and where their movies were to be exhibited and viewed in the movie theaters they owned via a process called vertical integration. Since then, media conglomerates like Disney have taken advantage of the digital streaming wars in which they became the go-to source of all entertainment. However, Disney has proven themselves time and time again to be a master at manipulating consumers' sense of childlike wonder and nostalgia for the classic films, which makes for a compelling case on why several Disney fans are not bothered by this abandoning of antitrust laws that for the most part, succeeded in keeping the studios from growing too powerful. Not only do stricter antitrust laws need to be proposed and enacted as soon as possible, but the media conglomerates' new Hollywood system also needs to be broken up for good.
Besides their questionable business decisions as a monopoly and moral stances on admitting their history with race, part of that legacy comes from Walt Disney and Fantasia, his expensive and ambitious groundbreaker in musical animation. It was, and still is a film where Walt's dreams and ambitions of displaying the latest technological advances in animation, experiencing music and sound in a movie theater, and the public's nostalgia for the old fashioned method of dreaming big and believing in oneself without accounting for the responsibility that comes with the power to do so, came through. While the future of filmmaking in Hollywood appears to be a reprise of the Hollywood Studio System of the early twentieth century, only in the form of the monopolistic industry that the U.S. Justice Department once tried to prevent over seventy years ago, one can only hope for the higher-ups at Disney to change and reverse most of the company's recent business acquisitions by selling off the subsidiaries to create some healthy competition. However, I suppose that anything is possible with time, patience, business-related ingenuity, and a wish upon a star.
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