Jim on Film: Rescue Aid Society
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These drastic moves, it is said, have upset some of the artists working at the studio; however, considering the folks who, until recently, have led the storytelling process don’t seem to have been particularly gifted or even trained in their duties—about as much as their MBAs would suggest—it would lead me to believe that the slate of films currently in development at Disney need more than just a mild shake-up. And, personally, whatever it is worth, I would have full faith in John Lasseter’s judgment, certainly more than anyone heading the storytelling melee as described by Sue Nichols and the other artists in Dream On Silly Dreamer and also evidenced by the fruits of their storytelling labors. In other words, thank God for John Lasseter and friends.

Hopefully this will result in Disney returning to its storytelling roots instead of desperately attempting to be every other studio out there, studios that don’t have its rich legacy and history. If Disney is busy following everybody else’s lead, they won’t be able to stay up to date as tastes change. What would Disney do once the entire country gets bored with these pop-culture referenced, sassy, hip, contemporary CGI comedies when the trend has passed and Rapunzel is finally ready for release? Having MBAs leading you into following trends rather than being creative and original with artistic talent paving the way to create trends (which Disney did in 1989 with The Little Mermaid) is like the proverbial man with the broom behind the horses in the parade.

One of the hallmarks of Disney storytelling since Steamboat Willie that Disney needs to return to has been the use of music. This does not necessarily mean musicals, but storytelling aided by music, as seen in films from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to One Hundred and One Dalmatians to The Little Mermaid to Brother Bear. Music, first of all, must be original, special, made for the film. A key to this is incorporating a variety of songwriters into the animation process, the failure to do so which lead to some of the problems of the perception of the Disney films of the 1990s. I am currently tiring of this crop of CGI comedies—Pixar’s films aside—because they look so cookie-cutter in the commercials. Disney’s string of 1990s musicals were hardly cookie-cutter, but they were heavily influenced by the very talented Alan Menken, which created a sense in the public, however false, of them all being like The Little Mermaid. There are so many talented songwriters out there who could bring a fresh perspective to the studio, such as Jason Robert Brown (Broadway’s Parade), Michael John LaChiusa (Broadway’s Marie Christine, The Wild Party), Paul Gordon (Broadway’s Jane Eyre), Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty (Anastasia, Broadway’s Ragtime), Adam Guettel (Broadway’s A Light in the Piazza), Jerry Herman (Broadway’s Hello, Dolly! and Mame) the alive-and-writing Sherman Brothers, or even Stephen Sondheim (Dick Tracy, Broadway’s A Little Night Music, Sweeny Todd, Into the Woods). The only composer I’ve heard attached to any of the upcoming Walt Disney Feature Animation releases has been Jeanine Tesori, a young theatre composer whose additions to the Broadway production of Thoroughly Modern Millie and the cheapquel Mulan II (heard by this Disney fan, for the record, only through a used CD soundtrack purchased for the sake of hearing Lea Salonga) are generally in-one-ear-and-out-the-other experiences. Disney should never under-estimate the power of musical storytelling, which can help flesh out simple stories with flair. Having strong, memorable songs is part of the magical equation that is Walt Disney Feature Animation.

Just as crucial is creating diversity in storytelling. If a studio is going to release a new film every year, the stories have to appear to be vastly different to keep them feeling fresh and to avoid a “been there, done that�? response from the country. Compare the output of Disney during the first two Golden Ages—Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) was very different from Pinocchio (1940), which was nothing like Fantasia (1940), none of which echoed the simplicity or tone of Dumbo (1941), or the storytelling of Bambi (1942). Similarly, Cinderella (1950) is very unlike Alice in Wonderland (1951), which was a completely different story from Peter Pan (1953), which was nothing like Lady and the Tramp (1955), and even Sleeping Beauty (1959) was distanced in tone, style, and time from sister Cinderella, all of which were nowhere near the look or tone of One-Hundred-and-One Dalmatians (1961). Even in Disney’s history, when films of similar tone and style were released consecutively, the timing was far enough apart to avoid a feeling of déjà vu. The Jungle Book (1967) set the trend for The AristoCats (1970) and Robin Hood (1973), but who noticed? Likewise, the movie-going public was unfazed by the buddy comedy structure of Toy Story (1995), Monster’s Inc. (2001), and Finding Nemo (2003). Think of how differently Disney’s recent history would be if Atlantis: The Lost Empire had been released in, say, 1993, and Lilo and Stitch has been released in 1997, instead of a bunch of amazing human-themed musicals hitting theaters almost consecutively? It’s not always about quality, but it’s also about perception.