As a longtime devotee of Lewis Carroll, I'm well aware that Disney's Alice in Wonderland (1951) takes some liberties with its source material, but it remains one of my favorite classic Disney films nonetheless. It's certainly one of the weirder Walt pictures, thanks to Carroll's strange characters and penchant for Victorian nonsense, but it paints a vibrant, memorable picture, and it also offers some fiendishly catchy tunes and a number of great voice performances from classic character actors like Sterling Holloway and Ed Wynn. More importantly, Alice in Wonderland breaks away from Disney's princess in peril tradition to depict a determined heroine making it through her adventures all by herself, without a single prince in sight.
Like Carroll's original story, the Disney adaptation follows the adventures of young Alice (Kathryn Beaumont) as she chases the White Rabbit (Bill Thompson) into Wonderland. Once there, Alice encounters all sorts of odd inhabitants, including the grinning Cheshire Cat (Sterling Holloway), the Mad Hatter (Ed Wynn), and the Caterpillar (Richard Haydn). She also makes the acquaintance of the murderous Queen of Hearts (Verna Felton), who invites Alice to play croquet but also threatens to cut off her head. Alice wants to return home, but first she must stand trial before the Queen's court and confront her strange adversaries.
Carroll's two books, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, revel in in-jokes and clever wordplay, and most of this gets streamlined or eliminated in the Disney film, although the core story about a girl's adventure remains the same. Alice is grappling with the strangest adventure of all, that of growing up, and to her the world of adults is as bizarre and incomprehensible as anything Wonderland has to offer. Like Wendy in Peter Pan, Alice stands on the edge of leaving childhood behind, but unlike Wendy Alice doesn't have to play second fiddle to any boys. She must navigate complex social rules, conquer etiquette, and learn to deal with false friends. That might not sound as exciting as fighting pirates or slaying a dragon, but for Alice it turns out to be quite a challenge, and her reward is not a prince but a reclamation of herself and her place in the real world. In an era when most Disney heroines passively waited for their princes to save them, Alice's story makes a very refreshing change.
Aside from its proto-feminist heroine, Alice in Wonderland offers plenty of charms in its bouncy tunes and crazy characters. "A Very Merry UnBirthday," "I'm Late," and even "Painting the Roses Red" have an infectious energy that makes them irresistible earworms (don't let your kids watch the picture if you aren't prepared to listen to them sing the songs for days afterward). Kathryn Beaumont, who would also provide Wendy's voice for the 1953 Peter Pan, gives Alice a very proper English accent without laying it on too thick, but the veteran character actors steal the show, especially Sterling Holloway as the mischievous Cheshire Cat. Ed Wynn, Verna Felton, and Richard Haydn are joined by Heather Angel, Thurl Ravenscroft, J. Pat O'Malley, and The Mellomen as some of Wonderland's other residents, and hardcore Disney fans will have no trouble recognizing most of their voices.
Alice in Wonderland has been adapted many times both before and after the 1951 Disney version, with the most recent big screen treatment also coming from Disney in 2010. For the sake of comparison, you might also have a look at the 1985 and 1999 TV movies, although the 1933 version might appeal more to classic movie fans, since it features W.C. Fields as Humpty-Dumpty and Cary Grant as the Mock Turtle (Sterling Holloway is in it, too, but in this earlier outing he plays the Frog). Brooke Shields plays Alice in a quick but crazy adaptation on a 1980 episode of The Muppet Show, and that's a fun one if you can track it down. Listen for Verna Felton as unpleasant matriarchal types in Dumbo (1941) and Lady and the Tramp (1955) and as the sweeter Fairy Godmother in Cinderella (1950). Don't miss Ed Wynn in Mary Poppins (1964), and be sure to appreciate Sterling Holloway's distinctive rasp in Dumbo, Mickey and the Beanstalk (1947), and, of course, the original Disney stories about Winnie the Pooh.
Showing posts with label Verna Felton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Verna Felton. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Monday, December 2, 2013
Classic Films in Focus: DUMBO (1941)
Disney classics are probably the one group of “old” movies that many people see even if they aren’t particularly enthusiastic about film. After all, these movies surround us throughout our lives, thanks in part to relentless Disney marketing. They inspire theme park rides and countless toys, harried parents trot them out to entertain moody toddlers, and they have become such a part of American childhood that you’d worry about a kid who doesn’t know who Dumbo is. With familiarity, however, comes apathy, if not actual contempt. We might easily take a movie like Dumbo for granted, especially because even the very youngest viewers seem attracted to it, but this 1941 animated feature can speak just as eloquently to a thoughtful adult who is willing to give it some time and attention.
You probably know the story. Dumbo is a baby elephant born into the circus, where his oversized ears become a source of embarrassment and endless abuse. As much as his mother loves him, she cannot protect him from the cruelty of others, and eventually she winds up imprisoned. Poor Dumbo, alone and frightened, has to find his own place in the circus, but he gets some help from a tiny mouse named Timothy and a flock of friendly crows. When Dumbo finally discovers his talents, he’s ready to confront those who mistreated him and take pride in his unique identity.
It seems like a simple story, and it is simply told, but there’s a lot of heartbreak and soul-searching in Dumbo. Anyone who has ever been teased or bullied will recognize the psychological damage that Dumbo endures. His mother’s peers criticize and reject him, the circus patrons mock and provoke him, and the clowns assume that nothing they do to him matters because “elephants ain’t got no feelings.” Dumbo is the individual as outcast, the lonely soul cast adrift on a cold sea. Neither his innocence nor his youth protect him. Difference marks him as the object of scorn and derision, and thus the little elephant stands in for all of the oppressed. His moment of terror and sacrifice, high on the burning circus platform, might as well be a crucifixion.
Think that’s reading too much into a children’s film? Look at Dumbo’s cinematic peers. Like Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp, he is a silent everyman, sweet-natured but suffering. Compare him to the iconic martyr in The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928); clown makeup takes the place of shorn hair and a straw crown. Despite his appeal to preschoolers, Dumbo is a deep character, embodying existential and spiritual questions of the most profound nature. His happy ending is hard won, and maybe even at odds with his essence, but that’s the one place where the story defers to its audience’s desire for poetic justice. Before that triumphant finale, Dumbo will break your heart, and that’s what makes it such a powerful and enduring film.
Forgive the stereotyped crows (at least they sing well), and listen for Disney voice regulars Sterling Holloway and Verna Felton as Mr. Stork and the elephant matriarch. Dumbo won an Oscar for Best Musical Score, and it should have won Best Original Song for “Baby Mine,” which could wring sentimental tears from a turnip. For more circus stories, see Chaplin’s The Circus (1928), the Marx Brothers’ At the Circus (1939), The Greatest Show on Earth (1952), and Jumbo (1962).
You probably know the story. Dumbo is a baby elephant born into the circus, where his oversized ears become a source of embarrassment and endless abuse. As much as his mother loves him, she cannot protect him from the cruelty of others, and eventually she winds up imprisoned. Poor Dumbo, alone and frightened, has to find his own place in the circus, but he gets some help from a tiny mouse named Timothy and a flock of friendly crows. When Dumbo finally discovers his talents, he’s ready to confront those who mistreated him and take pride in his unique identity.
It seems like a simple story, and it is simply told, but there’s a lot of heartbreak and soul-searching in Dumbo. Anyone who has ever been teased or bullied will recognize the psychological damage that Dumbo endures. His mother’s peers criticize and reject him, the circus patrons mock and provoke him, and the clowns assume that nothing they do to him matters because “elephants ain’t got no feelings.” Dumbo is the individual as outcast, the lonely soul cast adrift on a cold sea. Neither his innocence nor his youth protect him. Difference marks him as the object of scorn and derision, and thus the little elephant stands in for all of the oppressed. His moment of terror and sacrifice, high on the burning circus platform, might as well be a crucifixion.
Think that’s reading too much into a children’s film? Look at Dumbo’s cinematic peers. Like Charlie Chaplin’s Little Tramp, he is a silent everyman, sweet-natured but suffering. Compare him to the iconic martyr in The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928); clown makeup takes the place of shorn hair and a straw crown. Despite his appeal to preschoolers, Dumbo is a deep character, embodying existential and spiritual questions of the most profound nature. His happy ending is hard won, and maybe even at odds with his essence, but that’s the one place where the story defers to its audience’s desire for poetic justice. Before that triumphant finale, Dumbo will break your heart, and that’s what makes it such a powerful and enduring film.
Forgive the stereotyped crows (at least they sing well), and listen for Disney voice regulars Sterling Holloway and Verna Felton as Mr. Stork and the elephant matriarch. Dumbo won an Oscar for Best Musical Score, and it should have won Best Original Song for “Baby Mine,” which could wring sentimental tears from a turnip. For more circus stories, see Chaplin’s The Circus (1928), the Marx Brothers’ At the Circus (1939), The Greatest Show on Earth (1952), and Jumbo (1962).
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