Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs begins, as so much else will, with a book. But the book is special -- it's a real-life book, used to introduce the story and acknowledge its fairy-tale origins before being left behind as the film proceeds to its animated essence.
Introducing an animated story with a live-action bit seems a little cliché to us at this point. But this movie came out in 1937, and it set the stage for all that would follow. From the opening onward, everything that Disney is doing here is going to seem inevitably old-fashioned to our modern senses, but only because it created the clichés that would be soaked into our cultural memory forever after.
I'm not saying we haven't progressed at all. Plot-wise, Snow White is firmly rooted in the sensibilities of yestercentury, but it wears its simplicity on its sleeve. There isn't much of a conflict, really; everyone knows how the Evil Witch Queen Who Is Also A Stepmother tricks Snow White with the apple, and we remember it because she's the antagonist, but the movie itself is less concerned with her villainy than it is with the sleeping habits of various woodland creatures. She drifts in and out of the story whenever things seem too happy for Snow White, but only lurks in the background, occasionally reminding us that all is not pastoral frolicking, until she finally strikes. Once Snow White bites that apple, the movie seems in a hurry to end (it actually lasts only seven more minutes).
The end is almost disturbingly abrupt. The dwarfs weep for a few seconds before The Prince shows up, he kisses her, they hop on a horse, and it's over. We know that Snow White dreams of living with the Prince in his castle, but we've never seen them discuss it. In fact, within the frame of the movie, Snow White and the Prince never really talk to each other at all. They briefly sing about how happy they are to have found each other at the end of "Someday My Prince Will Come," but Snow White runs off and hides from him before they can have a real conversation. The next time she sees him is when she wakes up in her glass coffin, but they don't need to say a word to one another to know what comes next. I'm willing to give Disney some creative license in the presentation of the ending, but the character beats between Snow White and the Dwarfs are so detailed and full that her relationship with The Prince seems one-dimensional in comparison.
And the Dwarfs are really the heart and soul of this film. Snow White might get top billing, but her carefully rotoscoped movements, though hyper-realistic and gorgeous in their meticulous depiction of human motion, carry more gravitas than joy. Snow White, the Prince, and the Queen are dry and theatrical, but the Dwarfs are full of life. This is a movie that heralded a new age of animation, and it did it by filling nearly every cel to the brim with exciting, exploding movement. The Dwarfs embody all that fully. Their over-expressive faces, hats, beards, and robes guarantee that the slightest motion will ripple through their entire persons.
It'd be a waste of words to discuss the Dwarfs too much. Suffice to say that they are hilarious. Every second of their presence on screen is suffused with comedy. They aren't much more than a happy joke, but there's nothing wrong with that.
Before I move on from discussing the non-aesthetic aspects of this movie, I do want to give special mention to the Queen. She doesn't do much in the movie, spending most of it menacing quietly from the background, but her every appearance is arresting. Her scenes carry a tone wholly absent from the rest of the work, and the dissonance of her creepy torture dungeon is enthralling. This happy children's movie isn't afraid to tell gruesome little stories in its scenery, either:
And while her guise as the Witch is gross and unsettling, the Queen is the perfect counterpoint: grim, austere, and brimming with determination. This is a woman who is going to be the fairest if she has to murder every last damsel in her pathetic little kingdom. She doesn't care. She'll stop at no lengths to secure her primacy in the beauty contest, and there's something to be admired in dedication like that, no matter how evil an ambition it's tied to.
There's little to the Queen's character, but the few scenes she gets burn brightly, outsized morsels of self-satisfied villainy that bring us back to the somber stakes. Monstrous as she is, she's nevertheless gorgeous, covered in lush fabrics, surrounded by elegance, and absolutely committed to a passionate cause. My goodness.
Take a close look at the pictures in the Queen's dungeon. Look at the bubbles in her potion, rising up and popping, hundreds at a time. Look at the torch's flame, blown back together with her cape by a powerful gust of wind. Look at the skeleton, and imagine it breaking into little pieces, each bouncing off others as she kicks it aside. The images must exist so vividly in your mind, but in practice, they're even more realistic and mind-blowing. The level of detail and intricacy, both to the sets and animations, is astonishing. There is a realism to the light and shadow that raises the art to the next level.
The light is masterful, but so many other visual flourishes will enthrall you. Water in this movie is a revelation, and the distortion effects visible on reflections in water seem impossible for 1937. Dozens of tiny animals move on screen together, and nothing seems out of place. There are no shortcuts, tricks, or cut corners. Everything is immaculate, and fully realized.
One final special mention goes out to the direction for Snow White's flight through the dark forest. It starts out a little jump-scary, but by the end of the scene, it's established a whole new visual language for demonstrating characters in stark mental distress, and it's awesome. I want to call it Brechtian. It isn't, but I want to.
All that's left is the music. It's...good, I suppose. Snow White's voice is very nice, but much too shrill and warbly to the modern ear. The Prince seems to think he's in an opera, and he's pretty hard to listen to, as well. The Dwarfs are fun, but their songs are utterly without consequence. The songs, like the plot, primarily serve to provide a setting for perfect animation; in this, they succeed.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is an incredible movie. It spends most of its time playing with the Dwarfs, who have no real importance to the story, but that doesn't matter, because we're so distracted by the sheer genius on display in every frame. Disney is showing us a new world in every shot, and he knows it, and he delights in pulling the curtain back further and further until we begin to suspect that he might even be drawing us. At the end of this movie, it feels like nothing is out of reach. With the fairy tale conquered, what glorious worlds might he explore -- nay, create -- from here?
Having created the world, Disney knows what comes next. He must create Man. Join me next time for the second part of my Disney Movie Reviews: Pinocchio.
SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS
1937
RATING: A
REASONING: A perfect and revolutionary work of animated art, but not a perfect movie. There are greater things in store.
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