Written by Michael Claxton
I spent the summer watching Disney movies, slowly making my way through all the studio’s animated feature films produced during Walt Disney’s lifetime. Yeah, I know. My commitment to this column is next level.
I’m a little embarrassed to say that I was seeing a few of these gems for the first time. By the time I came on the scene — halfway through the studio’s century — Disney was still cranking out fare like “Winnie the Pooh” and “Pete’s Dragon,” but there was plenty of other stuff vying for a kid’s attention. As soon as I discovered “Star Wars” and “The Muppet Show,” Disney’s creaky old cartoons disappeared from my mind. That’s how I made it this ridiculously far in life without ever seeing “Pinocchio,” “Bambi” or “Lady and the Tramp.”
It was delightful to watch some of these classics this summer with my mother, who saw “Dumbo” and “Bambi” in the theater when she was a child in the early ‘40s. Her family was not wealthy, so going to the cinema was a real treat. She remembers a time when she could see a movie and buy popcorn, candy and a drink, all for a quarter. To hit the movie theater today, you’ll need to take out a loan.
Given that it’s such an iconic brand, it’s hard to imagine a time when the Disney studio took out loans itself, but that was the case for the first few decades of its history. “Snow White” was a huge success in 1937, earning $8 million during its initial release (over three times what it cost to make). Yet Disney struggled to stay afloat for years before and after that. “Bambi,” for example, lost money. In 1942, during the war, the public wasn’t into sad cartoons. Even Disney’s 9-year-old daughter complained that (spoiler alert) “Bambi’s mother didn’t have to die.”
When her father pointed out that he was just following the book, Diane shot back that he was Walt Disney and could do whatever he wanted.
She was not far off the mark. Her father was already a major celebrity and was well on his way to becoming America’s favorite uncle. The runaway success of “Cinderella” in 1950 solved the studio’s financial woes. The next decade was a mixed bag, however, as Disney fashioned his brand of a positive, wholesome, utopian vision of America, partly inspired by his own Missouri childhood hometown.
His pioneering TV show was a major success, but after he released a tearjerker starring Hayley Mills as a relentlessly optimistic girl, the name Pollyanna became code for a naïve and unrealistic outlook. Critics complained that Disney had turned to sap, and for that film, many fans agreed. When “Pollyanna” made only $3 million at the box office in 1960, Disney conceded that perhaps it had been “too sweet and sticky.”
Then again, “One Hundred and One Dalmatians” grossed $14 million the next year, so Disney still had the magic touch. And by then, Disney was far less involved in the actual films — no more three-hour improvs to pitch a story idea. Instead, he was obsessed with his new playground, which had turned his vision of utopia into a reality.
He had worked on his dream for years, long before he acquired the property in Anaheim, California. During development, he supervised every inch of the hundred-acre park. When Disneyland opened to great fanfare in 1955, he celebrated with 28,000 guests, making notes as he walked around, spotting light bulbs that needed to be changed. The night before the opening, Disney had donned a mask to help spray paint a giant latex squid. The prop from the hugely successful film “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” had deteriorated in storage.
A constant visitor to Disneyland, Disney would sometimes randomly jump on a ride with park visitors. “Like a child with a giant playset,” is how biographer Neal Gabler described him. He even had an apartment furnished so he could stay at the park on occasion, showing up early on a Saturday to stuff oranges into the juice machines.
With its “Main Street USA” and its “World of Tomorrow,” the park combined Disney’s love of nostalgia with his fascination with the future. Disney was constantly breaking new ground. He had been one of the first to embrace the Technicolor process. He jumped almost immediately into television production when many filmmakers feared TV as a threat. His studio pioneered countless advances in animation.
Walt Disney would live only a decade or so after his beloved theme park opened. But he would be there to shepherd the film many would call his studio’s masterpiece. I’ll say more about that next time. Better yet, come to Homecoming and watch the story live on the Benson stage.
