beauty paradox

The stretch of time between my Fantasia and Dumbo reviews was long (though, at ten months, I made it one month faster than Disney managed in actually releasing the films).  And that's okay.

I'm new to this serious criticism thing, and, fun as it is, it's far more time-consuming than what I'm used to writing.  Maybe I'm being too meticulous in combing through these movies for little tid-bits of interest, but I can't quite say that I'm any more fastidious than Disney was, and that's my standard.

Most of us, I suspect, viewed these films intently primarily as children, with childrens' eyes, and then perhaps with only half as much attention (if at all) as adults.  But it bears remembering that Disney's success is best attributed to the fanatical level of detail and care that went into the production.  So I think it's my duty to be on the watch for that, and to try to understand what went wrong when the Disney magic fails.

Life isn't perfect.  There are highs and lows, and the lows always seem much worse than the highs seem better.  If you aren't one of those lucky few blessed with a shoddy memory, you are basically doomed to relive your worst failures on a daily basis.  Even if you smile and steel yourself against the misery, choosing to live as well as you can in spite of its constant, crushing weight, you'll find yourself inevitably filled with regret.  This is the price of imagination and lucidity.  They say that to know where you've been is to know where you're going, but nobody really remembers the happy times.  So the future must seem bleak, if you're concerned with it.

I've long since stopped acting like there's anything to find at the end of the rainbow.  But the more I step back from that desperate precipice of ambition, the more it appears to others that I'm doing fine.  I have reached this dizzying state of neutrality, and though all actions appear equally futile, I keep doing stuff.  I don't think I'm depressed, but if I am, it isn't the debilitating kind that strains at the fabric of my day-to-day life.  And it isn't ennui, easy as that would be to prescribe.  There's plenty of excitement in this life, but only where I don't expect it.  Surprises are dangerous:  they aren't always good.

It's hard to watch a movie that cost the equivalent of millions of dollars, tens of thousands of man-hours, and the application of the most advanced animation techniques and most skilled animators of its time, and label it as a disappointment.  Somehow it's easier with the movies of today, where hundreds of millions of dollars are thrown into terrible (yet still successful!) animated features each year.  But Disney in 1941 was supposed to be breaking new ground, and it's painful to see such a wasted opportunity.

But Disney was right.  Dumbo was the cheapest film Disney had made, and its profits basically saved the studio in a time of huge upheaval.  For all my dislike, audiences loved it (and still love it), and many of the people I spoke with about it while writing the review voiced fond memories of it.  Dumbo was a huge success, and there is no justice in this world.

So why do you keep looking for it?  Imagine this is a just world.  Imagine you want for nothing.  Imagine you already have everything you ever desired.  Imagine what you would do next.

Perhaps I am cruel. In comparison to many suffering folk, I lead an idyllic life.  However good you think my life is, by your standards, it is probably even better than you realize.  In my short time I have seen and done enough to fill a dozen lives with joy and fascination.  But there is little satisfaction in it.  My soul resides in space, in endless pursuit of the white whale of the cosmos, and the limited perspective available here on terra firma feels more and more empty.

So I apologize, as there is no braggadocio meant in it.  That difference in perspective might make it harder to find sympathy, and each of us has a different path up the mountain, with different twists and turns.  If my road was straighter than some, it's no credit to me.  And those who see far usually can't make out much detail.

Dumbo, a bad film, was the right choice.  None of us outlive our mania.  I will leave you with a quote.  As always, what's good is up to you.

"Acts of goodness are not always wise, and acts of evil are not always foolish, but regardless, we shall always strive to be good."

Disney Movie Reviews #4: Dumbo

When I first decided to review Disney movies, I knew I would find some rough among the diamonds. For any artist, the dizzying highs of their best work must inevitably be offset by some less-stellar productions along the way.  I expected to be disappointed eventually, but I believed that moment must be some decades later in Disney's history, far removed from the genius evident in Snow White.  As always, Disney was ahead of its time.

Dispensing with the fantasy trappings of Snow White and Pinocchio, Dumbo lives firmly in an American circus in 1941, and the title cards all speak to that.  A circus is a fine setting in principle, but Dumbo never quite succeeds at making the relationship clear between its humans and its animals. The animals have all the mannerisms of put-upon employees, but they consent to poor treatment from the humans without ever considering escaping.

In the opening song, a squadron of storks delivers dozens of baby animals into lives of captivity and servitude.  How sweet!

The ringmaster is constantly looking for new ways to extort the animals to make a quick buck, and I can't help but see some of that stinginess reflected on the screen.  After the outbreak of war in Europe caused Pinocchio and Fantasia to flop overseas, the production's top priority was saving money on the animation, and it shows -- the quality of the visuals is wildly inconsistent, but even at its most appealing, it doesn't come close to the lush, gorgeous, and fluid scenes of earlier movies.

Everything is flat, textureless, empty, and feels like it exists independently of the other elements on the screen.

Dumbo isn't entirely devoid of the Disney magic, of course.  The animation of the animals, particularly Dumbo himself, are masterful, encompassing his movements such that you can see his skeleton and musculature moving underneath his skin.  In most scenes, anyway.  Sometimes, he's just a formless blob with giant ears as his only distinguishing mark.

If you think that's cute, wait until she swaddles him in his own ears.

Dumbo contains only one scene that I would describe as well-made, and even there, I feel some reservation about it.  This is the movie's second scene, where the circus comes to town and all of its members dedicate themselves to the arduous task of raising the tents through the night in a howling storm.  It's visually arresting, with wind blowing rain everywhere as men and animals strain themselves tremendously to find some purchase amidst the storm.

This scene, and one that comes later, are both beautifully animated and terrifying to watch.  But why?

I can't understand why Disney decided to make this scene so scary.  It's right at the beginning of the movie, and it doesn't really have anything to do with what comes after.  We see Dumbo scampering around, at first trying to help, but then cowed into hiding from the storm and its unrelenting bursts of lightning.  The music takes a frenetic pace, and every shot carries with it the implicit threat of a horrible accident that could hurt someone.  Nothing goes wrong, and the tent is raised at last, but I cannot grasp the decision-making process that led to this scene having such a miserable tone.

I don't know what's going on with those wheels.

After that, we get a brief parade sequence in which the brightness of the music contrasts sharply with the boredom of the animals (they're almost all shown yawning or asleep).  I suppose this is meant to be an introduction to the circus, but we've already seen all these animals when their babies were delivered.  Perhaps the scene doesn't need to have a narrative purpose; maybe it's enough that it's just a colorful, musical parade.  But Snow White and Pinocchio were able to create spectacle scenes that contributed to the plot, if only in some small way.  Dumbo seems wholly unconcerned with building the plot at all.  Dumbo trips over his own ears, lands in the mud, and the parade scene ends.

He should have stayed there.

Dumbo becomes a circus sideshow, where people come to guffaw at his big ears.  They try to touch him, his mom freaks out and attacks them, and she's locked in a trailer because she's a Mad Elephant.  To give you a sense of the pacing of this movie, that all happens within 75 seconds.

On the bright side, hey, it's Lampwick!  Almost.  Try not to think about the shape of this kid's abdomen.

In the spirit of the movie's narrative pacing, let's experience the rest of Dumbo as a bunch of storyboards.

1.  Dumbo is rejected by the other elephants because he's a freak.

Ah, yes, the ol' pachydermal stink-eye.  That's how you know you're on the outs, kid.

2.  Timothy Q. Mouse takes pity, befriends Dumbo, and scares the elephants (elephants are afraid of mice, don't you know).

Would that I could get so far from this movie.

3.  They overhear the ringmaster trying to come up with a new circus act, but he can't figure out how it should end.  Timothy climbs into his bed and dresses up like a ghost to "give him a climax."

This is a children's movie.

4.  Timothy secures Dumbo's position as the star of the circus act, and Dumbo screws it up, destroying the circus.

This is, without exaggeration, entirely Dumbo's fault.

5.  For his crimes, Dumbo is demoted to playing an endangered baby in the clowns' act.

Whiteface!  And here I was getting ready to argue this movie isn't racist.  Boy, is my face white.

6.  Silhouettes of clowns have a few drinks and decide to go hit up their boss for a raise (this is a reference to the Disney animator's strike, and is not funny or meaningful to the plot at all!)

Why does Dumbo have to watch this?  Why do we have to watch this?

7.  Dumbo goes to visit his mom in the clink.  This is the only genuinely moving scene in the film, for what it's worth.

The song "Baby Mine" plays, all the animals take care of their babies, everyone on screen starts crying.  Disgusting.

8.  Dumbo and Timothy accidentally get drunk.

Which leads us to...

9.  PINK ELEPHANTS ON PARADE.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

P.E.O.P. is horrifying and senseless.  The animation is gorgeously fluid and inventive, the best Disney had ever done up to this point, but it's still a waking nightmare of insanity.  Elephants explode, implode, scream, die, roar, fight, and osmose without regard for the mental safety of the viewer.

Moments of sublime beauty abut psychotropic freakouts.  Serenely imaginative negative-space winter landscapes collapse into frenzied, lightning-fueled Latin dance parties.  Pink elephants enact a living history of human transportation technology,  hurtling faster and faster, trains, planes, boats, cars, magic carpets, roller coasters, smashing into one another over and over until they burst, resolving peacefully into clouds over a summer sunrise...

The song is just as much brilliant nonsense as the visuals.  This scene is, in every way, the best and the worst part of this movie.  It's a work of genius, but it doesn't belong here at all.  Amazing to watch, and all the more so for how poorly it fits into the work as a whole -- it's the inverse of Dumbo, and almost enough to cancel the rest of the movie out altogether.

Relax.  It's almost over.

10.  The crows show up and fix everything.

Timothy is unsure about these guys, but you shouldn't be.

When I started watching Dumbo, I was really looking forward to viewing this scene with a critical eye.  I had heard much about Dumbo's racism, and I wanted to see for myself how reprehensible Disney could be.  When I talk to anyone about Dumbo, nearly half of the time, they respond that it's racist; some people even told me they wouldn't let their kids watch it because it was so offensive.  There were even some people who'd never seen it, but said they'd never consider watching it because they'd heard it was racist!  "Wow," I thought, "this movie must be pretty darn racist."  So, upon viewing, what's the verdict?

Dumbo just isn't that racist.  What racist elements it does contain are outweighed by its simultaneous progressive handling of race.  I think it's childish and reductive to label an entire work as unforgivably racist just because one part of it fails that test.  It is technically correct to decribe Dumbo as a racist movie, but to do so sacrifices any nuance or intelligence in service of an easy dismissal.

So, why are the crows racist?  Well, they represent black men, and they're crows.  That's racist on its face, because crow is a slang word for a black person.  And the lead crow is named Jim Crow.  That's pretty bad, too.  And in fact, the lead crow is voiced by a white man, which raises the specter of minstrelsy and blackface (blackvoice?), which is a dangerous road.

But then, that actor is the same one who voiced Jiminy Cricket. Is it more forgivable if it's a Disney regular?  Does it matter if his performance is not actually derogatory in any way?  What about the fact that the rest of the crows are voiced by black actors, at a time when it was virtually impossible for black men and women to get work in Hollywood?  And that, though they certainly speak like black Americans in the 40s, there's not a hint of negativity to it?  These characters are typical, but not stereotypical.

The crows are funny, helpful, friendly, encouraging mentors to Dumbo.  They have a great song, and afterwards, they not only help him learn to fly, but they literally give him the courage to go on trying.

It's a magic feather, though not really.  But Dumbo doesn't know that.

Some critics I've read have pointed out that the crows are so strongly supportive of Dumbo precisely because they understand how hard it's been for him to be stuck on the periphery of society through no fault of his own.  They can relate to his plight, and they're happy to have the chance to be of help. They're the most helpful, empathetic characters in the movie.

I'd do an aerodynamic analysis, but Disney took care of it for me.

It's unfortunate that they're crows, but in my opinion, that isn't enough to counter all of the ways their presence in this film is very progressive.  If you don't agree, I recommend you rewatch the film for yourself, and you'll discover all of the other very good reasons to dislike Dumbo.  At the end of the day, racism is not one of them.

11.  Dumbo flies at the circus, gets revenge, frees his mom, and lives happily ever after.

Poor, unsuspecting clowns.

First, he attacks the clowns, who never really did him any harm.  His humiliation was a part of their act, but it's not as if the clowns were spared the same.  I guess Dumbo just feels the need to attack anyone weaker than himself, as was done to him.

Poor, unloved ringmaster.

Next, he attacks the ringmaster, who committed the nefarious crimes of caging a wild elephant and giving Dumbo a chance.  What a monster!

OK, these guys deserve it.

Finally, he pelts the other elephants with peanuts, which doesn't seem like a huge punishment to me, but sure seems to bother them.

And that's the end of the movie!  Timothy proclaims that Dumbo is making history, and a newspaper pops up to prove it.

"Greatest Offensive?"  I didn't realize this movie was so self-aware.

The other elephants, ever the sycophants, forgive Dumbo, singing along with "When I See An Elephant Fly"!

These characters are VILLAINS.  Why doesn't the movie understand this?

Now that Dumbo is financially beneficial to the circus, his mother is freed and given a place of honor in Dumbo's private railcar!

Turns out she's not a mad elephant if you don't torture her baby in front of her!  Who knew!

And that's it.  This movie is billed at 64 minutes long, although there are really only 60 minutes between the title cards.  It's the shortest Disney film, and thank goodness for that.

A clown: just what we wanted to see.

The ending of Dumbo bothers me.  I started this review pointing out the bizarre complacency of the animals in a setting where their lives (and their childrens') lie in the hands of the humans who run the circus.  To learn, at the end, that Dumbo's highest aspiration is to be popular in the circus, to be admired by the very people who spurned him, dismayed me greatly.  Those people who looked down on him for no reason other than the way he was born were small-minded, and it didn't seem like they'd learned much of a lesson at the end.  Everything was just magically happy, because Dumbo had a talent that the circus could use to make money.  And it's true that in Dumbo's little world, there was little else he could imagine or hope for in terms of the best possible life.  But just think -- if anything were to happen to Dumbo, if an accident were to damage his ears, for example -- he'd be right back where he started.  It's a depressing thought.

That's not the worst part of this tale, unfortunately.  The message seems to be a sort of ugly duckling fable, that we shouldn't discount the weird and abnormal among us because their weirdness might hide hidden beauty or talents.  This is a terrible message because it implies that those without hidden beauty or talents have no value.  In the ugly duckling fable, the ducks are made to look foolish because, in fact, the cygnet will become more beautiful than they can hope to.  But that doesn't do an actual ugly duckling any good, and ugly individuals without any special talents deserve respect, too!

It's great for Dumbo that he can fly -- it gets his mom out of jail -- but he makes zero decisions along the way.  Everything is decided for him by others, and the course of his life is based entirely on his his natural appearance and physical abilities.  He's happy to be loved, but children will need to make decisions for themselves, and it's wrong to teach them to expect happiness to be thrust upon them, or else feel worthless.

There are a couple good songs, but most are too short or too disparate from the plot to be memorable.  There are a few good moments of animation, but most scenes feel hollow, cheaply made, and there's nothing of the love and magnificent detail that went into most of Snow White, Pinocchio, and Fantasia.  Where prior Disney characters had character, even if they could be annoying, Dumbo is a shell.  He smiles and frowns, but he's mute, existing only to be made into an object of consummate pity.  It's impossible to feel anything for him; he's merely a mirror that reflects the way you feel about yourself.  Neither his failures nor his triumphs are truly his own.

I hope against hope that I remember Dumbo as the darkest mark on Disney's record, the least lovingly crafted, the most harmfully designed.  At best, Dumbo is a brainless exercise of the most basic muscles Disney had developed up to that point, churned out as quickly and simply as possible to make a few bucks.  It's a packaged product, disconnected pieces awkwardly crammed together into a shape hopefully saccharine enough to fool the consumer.  Disney wanted to make a circus film, and they produced one for P. T. Barnum's favorite audience: suckers.

DUMBO

1941

RATING:  C-

REASONING:  It's not racist, but it makes me wish it had been.  Its best moment is needlessly frightening, totally out of place, and twenty years ahead of its time.  There is very little to like here.