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The Disney Aesthetic

Introduction

Over the course of the more than 80 years in which is has been operation, the Walt Disney Company has practically become synonymous with the medium of hand-drawn animation, to the extent that, for many people, the two are virtually indistinguishable. Because of the specificity of what the Disney brand name means to many, it is unsurprising that the company has become known, according to Janet Wasko, "for products based mostly on a specific formula that was established at the studio while Walt Disney was in charge and has changed little over the years".[1] This perception of a standard aesthetic common to the entirety of the studio's output has undoubtedly played a role in establishing the studio's reputation for providing predictable and reliable family entertainment through its animated feature films, although, as will be argued in this essay, to assume uniform conformity across the spectrum of Disney's films is not only overly simplistic but also somewhat misleading.

When discussing animation, it is tempting, perhaps, to look at the subject matter purely from the perspective of its medium. Certainly, when analysing the visuals of Disney's films it is possible to see common stylistic traits shared between films. This too, however, is misleading, given the technological changes such as the introduction of Xerography in the 1960s and the move from hand-painted cels to digital ink and paint in the 1990s, as well as one-off experiments like the Gerald Scarfe-influenced designs of Hercules (1997) and the mélange of different graphical techniques in Fantasia (1940) and Fantasia 2000 (1999). The very fact that it is possible to specifically study animation marks the films of the medium apart from their live action counterparts, creating the notion of an 'other' to which it is all too easy to ascribe certain assumptions. As Paul Watson has noted, the act of studying animation as a specific form has resulted in a subconscious belief that the medium is bound by different rules than those that apply to non-animated material, in effect giving the impression that animation is an offshoot of live action, when in fact the opposite is much closer to the truth.[2] Focusing on the medium itself, therefore, distracts from the less concrete aspects of these films, specifically the content of their storylines and the possible subtextual readings. Therefore, while comparing the various stylistic traits of different Disney features would be an interesting assignment in itself, for the purposes of this study I will focus primarily on the content of the films rather than their form.

The study of Disney's animated features tends to confound theories of authorship because the system fostered at the studio, which involved large numbers of individuals collaborating on all aspects of production from story adaptation to the actual animation itself, more or less defies any attempt to ascribe the end product to an 'auteur'. While it is certainly true that Walt Disney was very much the dominant force of the studio, personally overseeing all the films produced until his death in 1966, it is often forgotten that he did not work on any of them in the capacity of director, writer or artist. He was a producer rather than a hands-on filmmaker, and despite the fact that all the material being produced was essentially filtered through him and he ultimately had the final say in all matters, the large and diverse number of crew members, who each had their own viewpoints and interests were responsible for the actual creation of the films. (In later years, the situation was further complicated by the input of multiple levels of executives, resulting in what former Feature Animation chairman Tom Schumacher referred to as "Cultural Darwinism", where any idea, no matter its origin, would be tested for validity.[3]) Furthermore, while Disney is often portrayed as cultivating a core group of team members, the so-called "Nine Old Men",[4] the staff turnover at the studio was constant, and in fact only three films featured the combined talents of all nine.[5] Indeed, while the final number of "Animated Classics" produced by the studio was 44,[6] Disney himself only personally oversaw 19 of these before his death. What this points to is the fact that the films produced by the Disney studio do not fit the pattern of being the result of a single, overt vision, and therefore any notion of a singular Disney "aesthetic" should be treated with suspicion.

We must also consider that the storylines for Disney's films were culled from a wide variety of sources. While it is true that the majority of them come from pre-20 th century European fairytales - e.g. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), Sleeping Beauty (1959) - and literature - e.g. Pinocchio (1940), The Little Mermaid (1989) - a number are derived from more recent sources, such as One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961), adapted from a 1956 British novel, and The Rescuers (1977), based on a series of books by British novelist Margery Sharp. In rarer cases, 'original' stories form the basis of films, such as The Lion King (1994) (although it has been interpreted by some as being a loose analogy of the plot of Hamlet[7]) and Lilo & Stitch (2002), which seems to take its cues not from literature but from other works of film, most obviously Steven Spielberg's E.T. - The Extra-Terrestrial. In later years, films were also produced based on mythical figures with less emphasis on existing literature, including Hercules and Mulan (1998). With their subject material having such diverse roots, it is not illogical to assume that the films themselves would show variety in terms of narrative, characters and overall message. Having said this, Wasko argues that the studio routinely moulds and transforms the morals of its source material into a form conforming to a specific world view: in her words, "sanitization and Americanization", with the end result being what she describes as "Disneyfication" (this word demonstrating that she clearly believes in an identifiable Disney "aesthetic").[8]

To briefly summarise Wasko's argument, Disney reinvents folk tales to assume the values of Middle America using the Classic Hollywood Cinema narrative model as described by Bordwell, Staiger and Thompson. Characters are predictable and conform to clear archetypes, including attractive, joyous, heroes or heroines on a quest of self-discovery, cute (often animal) sidekicks and two-dimensional villains with exaggerated characteristics (e.g. very fat, very thin) and no redeeming qualities. Furthermore, a distinct emphasis is placed on individual rather than group needs, and a general sense of optimism pervades throughout - something that is best illustrated by the now-famous line from Pinocchio: "When you wish upon a star, your dreams come true".[9] The Disney 'world' is one of "escape, fantasy, magic [and] imagination" in which those who are deserving will ultimately be rewarded with what they desire most and live "happily ever after", while the villains will always be punished.[10] The end result, then, could be seen as an undemanding, watered-down version of the original source material, pitched at a child or family audience.

This essay will set out to test Wasko's theory of a Disney aesthetic, investigating the aforementioned traits with reference to specific films. Any study like this is clearly limited, since it is impossible to even begin to investigate Disney's entire filmography. It therefore makes sense to focus on a few select films. This, however, creates the obvious problem that it then becomes impossible to study the studio's output as a whole, effectively creating a situation in which any attempt to illustrate a connection between the selected titles is undermined by the fact that, somewhere, there is likely to be another film that challenges the paradigm. Therefore, in an attempt to cover as wide a selection as possible, I have elected to focus on three films that are spaced out relatively evenly over the course of the 67 years during which the Animated Classics were produced: early - Pinocchio, mid - One Hundred and One Dalmatians, and late - Treasure Planet (2002).

Pinocchio

Although in many ways it might seem to be an archetypical Disney film, incorporating the usual concepts such as wish fulfilment, an idealistic young hero, cute sidekicks and the use of magic, Robin Allan argues that Pinocchio in fact largely eschews the conventions found in Disney's previous venture, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, including the use of musical comedy and romance, claiming that it is an altogether darker piece, in keeping with the sinister undertones of Collodi's original story, published nearly sixty years previously.[11] The focus of Allan's study falls largely on the uneasy tension between the source material's 19 th century European roots and the mid-20 th century aesthetic added during what Wasko would call the "Disneyfication" process. Allan, therefore, would seem to acknowledge the existence of a homogenising process which replaces the morality of the original source material with that of a more 'Disney-esque' outlook on life, but at the same time argues that the nature of the source material is not fully eliminated.

Certainly, it would be wrong to suggest that Pinocchio is completely devoid of the elements that many viewers have come to associate with Disney's output. Indeed, in many respects, it could be considered to be decidedly traditional Disney fare. Allan identifies several key elements that have been altered during the adaptation process, key among these being the Victorian morality that pervades in the book but which is comparatively absent in the film. Specifically, he notes that Victorians assumed that "children were uncivilised and must have the devil forced out of them", with Pinocchio being portrayed as "a delinquent" who is naturally disposed to be wayward and is effectively forced into good behaviour by way of the terrible cruelty that is inflicted upon him.[12] Disney's Pinocchio, however, is an innocent who arrives in the world with no sense of morality, good or bad, and is thus easily led astray - first by Honest John and Gideon, then by Stromboli, then by Lampwick. The Pinocchio of the film seems to be naturally mischievous, repeatedly asking Gepetto why he must do certain things and indulging with Lampwick on a spree of vandalism on Pleasure Island, but he is also portrayed as being eager to please, which helps to negate some of the damage he does when under Lampwick's thrall.

With these Victorian notions of morality excised from the plot, it is therefore interesting that the Disney version inserts specific references to that time period that are not present in Collodi's text. Chief among these is the characterisation of the villains, who are all portrayed as grotesquely exaggerated Dickensian archetypes, something that is severely at odds with the supposed Americanisation of the tale.[13] It also creates a noticeable contrast between the tale's 'good' characters - Pinocchio, Jiminy Cricket, Gepetto - who portray American ideals of honesty, bravery and generosity (although, admittedly, in Pinocchio's case, these principles must be learned rather than coming naturally to him), and the villains - Honest John, Gideon, Stromboli, the Coachman - who all have 'foreign' accents which help perpetuate a sense of otherness. Indeed, of all the characters who could be considered negative influences, only Lampwick is portrayed as having any 'Americanisms', and it is noteworthy that he is the only villain who is given any sympathetic qualities (his abject terror as he transforms into a donkey). He is, however, dressed in clothes that suggest a Dickensian rogue (bowler hat, bow-tie and coat - an attempt by a ragamuffin to dress like the gentry), making him an excellent example of the tension between modern America and old Europe that pervades throughout the film.

A key difference which marks Pinocchio as different from other Disney fare is a distinct lack of punishment for its villains. In most Disney tales, the villains, if not killed outright, as is the case with the Wicked Witch in Snow White or Gaston in Beauty and the Beast, are at least stripped of their power and humiliated in some way, for example Medusa in The Rescuers and Captain Hook in Peter Pan. Pinocchio's villains, in contrast, simply disappear when their function in the story is completed. Honest John and Gideon, for example, are never seen after they send Pinocchio on his way to Pleasure Island, and Stromboli, while deprived of his "little wooden gold mine",[14] is allowed to disappear into the night with no prospect of retribution for his crimes. Likewise, the fate of the other boys turned into donkeys at Pleasure Island is never resolved. Indeed, one can assume that, unlike Pinocchio, these victims will never return to their families or to their human form, and that the sinister operations of Pleasure Island will continue. The only 'villain' who receives anything in the way of a definite end is Monstro the whale, who arguably, despite being positioned as an aggressor, is in fact not malicious but simply behaving in a way that is natural for a predator in the animal kingdom. This has the effect of making the world of Pinocchio feel decidedly more open-ended than most Disney titles. The film, it seems, is acknowledging the fact that life is fraught with danger, and that, despite overcoming the hurdles that face him in the film and becoming a real boy, Pinocchio will continue to face obstacles in his life and will not simply live 'happily ever after'.

One element that the film does maintain from the book is its overall darkness of tone, creating a bleak mood unlike that of any of Disney's other films. Certainly, some of the most vicious imagery is excised - for example, Pinocchio's killing of the cricket; the attempts by the fox and cat to stab and then hang Pinocchio (Jiminy Cricket, Honest John and Gideon are not given specific names in Collodi's book), and the instance when the puppet subsequently meets them and finds them riddled with disease; Pinocchio being chained up as a watch dog[15] - but a surprising level of bleakness remains nonetheless. Much of the film takes place in darkness, whether actually at night or in the gloom of the belly of Monstro the whale, and a sense of malice can be found in even the most brightly lit moments. In fact, the only scene that has no hint of malevolence is the one in which Pinocchio heads out to school. Malice, however, is always lurking just round the corner: for example, in the elaborate overheat shot that opens the scene, we can glimpse one boy pushing another's head under the water of a well, and indeed, as soon as Pinocchio has left the safety of his home and turned the corner, he has his first encounter with Honest John and Gideon.

Despite only being the studio's second feature film, Pinocchio can be seen to oppose traditional notions of an archetypical Disney aesthetic. Although in its presentation of straightforward morals, cute animal sidekicks and catchy musical numbers, as well as its expurgation of many of the more sinister elements from Collodi's original book, it can be seen in many ways to be typically 'Disney-esque', at the same time the overriding mood of bleakness makes it difficult to reconcile this with the notion of wholesome family fare so often conjured up by the name of Disney. The studio's output may have developed associations with escapism and simplistic optimism, but even at this early stage in its history it can be seen that the work that it was producing did not comfortably fit within this paradigm.

One Hundred and One Dalmatians

Released in 1961, One Hundred and One Dalmatians originated from what was, at the time, a far more contemporary source than that of Pinocchio: a novel published only five years earlier. As such, the material was in considerably less need of updating, and as a result the final film is relatively faithful to the plot of the novel, with the various changes being more along the lines of simplification and conflation than outright alterations (for instance, the two Nannies of the book become one character in the film, while the four adult Dalmatians are reduced to two). Both versions state that the story takes place within a fairly recent timeframe (the novel: "Not long ago, there lived in London...",[16] the film: "My story begins in London, not so very long ago..."[17]). Changes are present, however, and an analysis of these alterations reveals evidence that both contradicts and confirms the notion of a standard Disney aesthetic.

It is interesting that, although Disney's films are often accused of having their more disturbing moments excised, One Hundred and One Dalmatians, like Pinocchio, actually retains a great deal of the book's allusions to cruelty. Compare, for instance, the dialogue in the book, which reads as

"...this lot must be got rid of ... quickly [said Cruella]."
"How?" said the Badduns, both together.
"Any way you like. Poison them, drown them, hit them on the head. Have you any chloroform in the larder?"
"Not a drop," said Saul Baddun. "And no ether, either."
"We can't afford luxuries," growled Jasper Baddun.
"Drown them, then."
"Dogs can swim," said Saul Baddun. "Anyway, the pond's less than a foot deep."
"Then you must hit them on the head," said Cruella.[18]

and the film, which reads as

Cruella: ...I want the job done tonight!
Horace: How we going to do it?
Cruella: Any way you like. Poison them, drown them, bash them in the head. You got any chloroform?
Jasper: Not a drop.
Horace: And no ether, either.
Jasper: Either.
Cruella: I don't care how you kill the little beasts, but do it, and do it now![19]

As can be seen, the structure and some of the finer details of the exchange may have changed, but the actual content remains remarkably similar: Cruella wants the Baddun brothers to kill the puppies, and even provides a number of fairly graphic examples of how this can be accomplished. Entire lines have actually been transposed wholesale from the text of the book, including references to chloroform and ether that, it can safely be assumed, the vast majority of children would not understand.

However, the two versions differ in terms of the socio-economic status of their protagonists. Whereas in the novel Pongo's owner, Mr. Dearly, is a well-off businessman who has been excused from paying Income Tax for life and lives in a Government-donated house in Regent's Park, his counterpart in the film, Roger, is a struggling musician who inhabits a cramped apartment in the middle of the city. The intention, it can be assumed, is to make the character in the film version more of an 'everyman'. Poor characters are fairly common in Disney films, and often even those who belong to wealthy families are placed in subservient positions (for example the eponymous protagonists of Snow White and Cinderella [1950]), and this could arguably be seen as an attempt to mould the plot into something that more closely corresponds to a Disney formula.

The alteration of the characters' social status has a strange effect on the ending. Both versions end with Pongo successfully leading all the stolen Dalmatian puppies back to his owners' home, but while it is not particularly difficult to believe that the well-off Mr. Dearly in the book would be able to afford both to feed one hundred and one dogs and to buy accommodation large enough to house them, it becomes difficult to imagine Roger, in the film, to be capable of this feat. Such real-world problems are, however, quickly brushed under the carpet with his simple statement that they will "get a bigger place",[20] which serves as an excellent example of the idealised optimism and fairytale "happily ever after" endings that Wasko claims to feature in Disney's output. Of course, the ending in both variants is essentially the same; the difference, however, is that the Disney version is willing to put logic to one side in order to achieve it.

Further changes can be seen in the way that the film version places greater emphasis on the human characters than the novel. In the book, the focus fell squarely on the animals, with the humans occupying only periphery positions and their points of view usually only being represented via the interpretations of their animals (the central concept of the novel is that the positions between animal and owner are reversed, with the dogs viewing the humans as their "pets"). Oddly enough, though, although Disney is well-known for its animal-based films (including Bambi [1942], where people were never depicted as anything other than an off-screen menace), the film adaptation of One Hundred and One Dalmatians greatly increases the amount of time devoted to its human characters. While the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Dearly in the novel are little more than ciphers (in much the same way that animals tend to be in conventional literature), their equivalents in the film, in particular Roger, have much more distinct personalities.

The villain of both versions, Cruella De Vil, is also given increased characterisation in the film. In the book, she is presented as a distant menace, an icy woman who seems to be somehow more a monster than a person ("I do not consider Cruella de Vil is human"[21]), but in the film adaptation she becomes a more broadly drawn cartoon character. A larger than life maniac who flails about, smokes inordinately long, foul-smelling cigarettes and rampages through the streets in a high-speed car, she becomes more a figure of fun than a genuine threat, and her grotesque portrayal is in keeping with Wasko's claim that Disney villains are always heavily exaggerated and two-dimensional.

Even more interesting, however, is the alteration made to Cruella's marital status and the effect, whether intentional or otherwise, that this has. In the book, Cruella is married and carries out her nefarious scheme to create a line of Dalmatian fur coats with the aid of her husband, but in the film she is single. Unmarried women are often demonised in fairytales, and indeed most of the female villains in Disney features are either widowed or were never married in the first place (see the stepmothers of Snow White and Cinderella, Madame Medusa in The Rescuers and Ursula in The Little Mermaid). This negative portrayal of strong, self-sufficient women can easily be seen as indicative of the patriarchal, conservative overtones that are often said to dominate Disney's output. Of course, Cruella was a powerful force in the novel as well, and a number of elements, such as the disclosure that she made her husband change his name to hers when they got married, imply that the book is fundamentally patriarchal too, but these concepts are taken to extremes in the film and, combined with the monstrous portrayal of the character, result in a grotesque stereotype of a powerful, independent woman as a threat to the protagonists (and, by proxy, to the status quo).

This interpretation risks accusations of over-analysis, and I am certainly not suggesting that Disney consciously chose to create a subtext of misogyny. However, the point remains that this is a trend that can be seen in several of the studio's films, and as such provides further strength for the argument that there is a specific Disney aesthetic.

In summary, due to the differing nature of its source material, One Hundred and One Dalmatians is, in many regards, aesthetically unlike Pinocchio. At the same time, though, various changes made to its narrative and characterisations do suggest a homogenising process designed to fit the story into a specific framework.

Treasure Planet

Treasure Planet was one of Disney's final traditionally animated films, performing disastrously at the box office[22] and with the critics. Many reasons have been suggested for its failure, some citing a poor promotional campaign, while others suggested a sense of ennui with the Disney 'formula'. Conversely, others have suggested that its failure was precisely because of its divergence from the classic Disney template. The insinuation of the latter is of particular interest to this study, since, if true, it would go some way towards confirming that there is a specific Disney aesthetic, at least in the eyes of the viewing public.

Based on Robert Louis Stevenson's novel Treasure Island, Treasure Planet is already unusual by virtue of the fact that it takes a period story and recasts it in a completely different era. Disney had done this before with its adaptation of Oliver Twist, Oliver & Company (1988), but the domain of Treasure Planet, intergalactic space travel, was completely new ground for the studio. Additionally, a number of its elements suggest that Disney's target audience was teenage boys, a demographic that the studio, and the medium of animation in general, has a track record of failing to reach. The hero, Jim Hawkins, is off this age group (a rare example of a protagonist being made older rather than younger in a Disney adaptation), and is moody and distant, his mannerisms being closely based on James Dean.[23] This is substantiated by the science fiction setting and conscious references to popular culture, such as Jim's "solar-surfing" (a stand-in for skateboarding, snowboarding and similar extreme sports). Furthermore, unlike the vast majority of Disney films, there are no musical sequences in which characters burst into song. Indeed, the only song in the entire film (excluding the end credits) is a pop number that is not performed by any of the characters but rather by an omniscient voice that seems to be expressing Jim's inner thoughts.

The film is also noteworthy with regard to the three-dimensional portrayal of its villain. Silver, in his role as the principal antagonist, is a grotesque caricature: overweight and ugly, he certainly fits the paradigm of the traditional Disney villain as laid out by Wasko. Furthermore, he is disfigured: a cyborg, he sport a mechanical arm and leg, and an electronic eye (these traits a futuristic reinterpretation of the hook, wooden leg and eye-patch commonly associated with pirates). However, this sits ill at ease with the fact that Silver serves a dual role as Jim's surrogate father. It is not unknown for Disney parental figures to be monstrous, but as he befriends Jim, it becomes clear that Silver's affection for him is genuine, making him arguably the first Disney villain not to be drawn in strict black and white terms.

At the same time, however, the film retains many of the standard traits commonly associated with Disney. The hero still goes on a journey of self-discovery; and while Silver's characterisation and his relationship with Jim are complex, he is still very much a traditional Disney villain for a significant portion of its duration. Additionally, the inclusion of cute and/or wisecracking sidekick characters, a Disney staple, feels decidedly out of place and gives the film an odd quality, making it neither one thing nor the other. The 'absent/ineffectual parent' motif that figures heavily in so many of the studio's films is present here, with Jim's biological father being shown as abandoning his family, while his mother is overworked and unable to control her wayward son. Interestingly, however, the 'balance' is not restored at the end, as Silver heads off into the unknown, preventing him from 'completing' the Hawkins family. The father figure, in the final scene, is purely metaphysical, as we see Jim staring up at the sky, the clouds forming a likeness of Silver. This, and the relationship that the two share, is surprisingly abstract given how simplistic Disney's characterisations tend to be, and points to a film that seems less intent on spoon-feeding its audience.

Ultimately, however, the film remains staunchly conservative with regard to its portrayal of the central character of Jim. He is portrayed as morose and anarchic - a stereotypical teenager - and his moodiness is illustrated by his dark clothing (a common technique in Disney features for bad-tempered characters). Additionally, his journey of self-discovery seems to be as much about a drive by other characters (and by the filmmakers) to subdue his non-conformity as it is for personal growth. In the final scene of the film Jim, having shed his dark clothes for a white space cadet's uniform and his ponytail (arguably a symbol of his lack of conformity) for a neat haircut, is greeted with rapturous applause the community that had previously shunned him. Furthermore, the animators even remove the shading from around his eyes after this 'transformation', which makes his face less sallow and more along the lines of a traditional 'wholesome' Disney hero like Aladdin or Pinocchio. Whether intentionally or not, this sends out the message that, in order to grow as a person, one must ultimately fit conform to a set of pre-determined rules.

As is the case with the other films discussed in this essay, Treasure Planet exhibits several traits that are characteristic of the Disney brand as a whole; at the same time, however, it features numerous elements that are unique to it and mark it apart from the other titles in the series. It is far from Disney's greatest work, but it is interesting by virtue of the way in which it seems to contrast with the rest of the studio's output. Certainly, it is a very different product to Pinocchio, with a gap of more than 60 years between them.

Conclusion

The notion of a singular Disney aesthetic that applies to the entirety of the studio's output is a widespread one, and has been used on numerous occasions both as a criticism, labelling these films as repetitive and uninspired, and as a positive trait, stressing their value as reliable, child-friendly entertainment. The company itself has invested a great deal of effort into consolidating the notion of a single Disney brand and universe, with anthology television series like House of Mouse, which features characters from numerous Disney films interacting with each other, furthering the notion that the worlds they depict are interchangeable. Additionally, the legacy and likeness of Walt Disney are continually exploited in order to create the image of a single guiding vision shaping the entirety of the studio's output, regardless of the fact that he has been dead for nearly 40 years. Even within the studio's own marketing, however, contradictions exist. A tie-in book charting the making of Treasure Planet, for example, stresses the key role of its co-writer and co-director, Ron Clements, describing the film as his "brainchild",[24] which presents the notion of a personal authorial vision in opposition to that of a mass product.

In this essay, I have illustrated that assumptions that a single Disney aesthetic exists are overly simplistic and that, while not without a grain of truth (after all, the studio has a record of aiming for a specific target audience and often chooses to adapt stories from similar sources), the argument cannot simply be applied to a series of more than 40 films produced over a period of nearly 70 years. While certain traits can be seen to apply to multiple films, it is highly unlikely that any single 'rule' holds true for each and every title. This is not only the nature of large-scale film production such as this, but is also illustrated by the evidence obtained through analysis of the three films consulted in this study.

Footnotes

1. Janet Wasko, "Analyzing the World According to Disney", in Understanding Disney: The Manufacture of Fantasy (Cambridge: Polity, 2001), p. 110

2. Paul Watson, "True Lye's: (Re)Animating Film Studies", in Paul Wells (ed.), Art & Design (London: Academy Group Ltd, 1997), pp. 46-50

3. Paul Wells, "New Disney, Old Stories?", in Animation and America (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2002), p. 115

4. The Nine Old Men were Les Clark, Marc Davis, Ollie Johnston, Milt Kahl, Ward Kimball, Eric Larson, John Lounsbery, Wolfgang Reitherman and Frank Thomas. All of them were initially animators, although some of them later diversified into other areas, including directing and story. Of the nine, only Johnston now survives. For more information, see Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston, The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation (New York: Disney Editions, 1981), pp. 159-177.

5. Matthew Rand (4 October 2005), Ultimate Disney: Cinderella Platinum Edition DVD Review, http://www.ultimatedisney.com/cinderella.html (accessed 16 November 2005).

6. This is based on the numbering scheme adopted for the British DVD releases of Walt Disney's films, which ignores the existence of various compilations, direct-to-video products and collaborations with others studios (such as the computer-generated films produced by Pixar). For the purposes of this study, I have also chosen to ignore any titles produced after the dissolution of the studio's hand-drawn animation department in 2004. The final list of 'relevant' titles, therefore, includes on the films produced by the Feature Animation department between 1937 and 2004: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), Pinocchio (1940), Fantasia (1940), Dumbo (1941), Bambi (1942), Saludos Amigos (1942), The Three Caballeros (1944), Make Mine Music (1946), Fun and Fancy Free (1947), Melody Time (1948), So Dear to My Heart (1949), The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949), Cinderella (1950), Alice in Wonderland (1951), Peter Pan (1953), Lady and the Tramp (1955), Sleeping Beauty (1959), One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961), The Sword in the Stone (1963), The Jungle Book (1967), The Aristocats (1970), Robin Hood (1973), The Rescuers (1977), The Fox and the Hound (1981), The Black Cauldron (1985), The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Oliver & Company (1988), The Little Mermaid (1989), The Rescuers Down Under (1990), Beauty and the Beast (1991), Aladdin (1992), The Lion King (1994), Pocahontas (1995), The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996), Hercules (1997), Mulan (1998), Tarzan (1999), Fantasia 2000 (1999), The Emperor's New Groove (2000), Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001), Lilo & Stitch (2002), Treasure Planet (2002), Brother Bear (2003), Home on the Range (2004).

7. Jim Rovira (16 September 2003), Metaphilm: The Lion King - Hamlet and the Myth of Happy Vengeange, http://metaphilm.com/philm.php?id=184_0_2_0 (accessed 16 November 2005)

8. Wasko, p. 113

9. Pinocchio, USA: Ben Sharpsteen and Hamilton Luske, 1940

10. Wasko, pp. 113-119

11. Robin Allan, "The Dark World of Pinocchio", in Walt Disney and Europe: European Influences on the Animated Features of Walt Disney (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1999), p. 67

12. Ibid., pp. 71-72

13. Ibid., p. 88

14. Pinocchio, 1940

15. Ibid., pp. 71-73

16. Dodie Smith, The Hundred and One Dalmatians (London: Mammoth, 1990), p. 1

17. One Hundred and One Dalmatians, USA: Wolfgang Reitherman, Hamilton Luske and Clyde Geronimi, 1961

18. Smith, pp. 113-114

19. One Hundred and One Dalmatians, 1961

20. Ibid.

21. Smith, p. 84

22. Author uncredited (date unknown), Box Office Mojo: Treasure Planet, http://www.boxofficemojo.com/movies/?id=treasureplanet.htm (accessed 16 November 2005)

23. Based on comments by the character's supervising animator, John Ripa, on the film's DVD audio commentary.

24. Jeff Kurtti and Jodie Revenson, Treasure Planet: A Voyage of Discovery ( New York: Disney Editions, 2002), p. 9

Bibliography

Allan, Robin, "The Dark World of Pinocchio", in Walt Disney and Europe: European Influences on the Animated Features of Walt Disney (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1999), pp. 67-82

Kurtti, Jeff and Revenson, Jodie, Treasure Planet: A Voyage of Discovery (New York: Disney Editions, 2002)

Smith, Dodie, The Hundred and One Dalmatians (London: Mammoth, 1990)

Thomas, Frank and Johnston, Ollie, The Illusion of Life: Disney Animation (New York: Disney Editions, 1981)

Wasko, Janet, "Analyzing the World According to Disney", in Understanding Disney: The Manufacture of Fantasy (Cambridge: Polity, 2001), pp. 108-153

Watson, Paul, "True Lye's: (Re)Animating Film Studies", in Paul Wells (ed.), Art & Design (London: Academy Group Ltd, 1997), pp. 46-50

Wells, Paul, "New Disney, Old Stories?", in Animation and America (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2002), pp. 102-126

Online Sources

Author uncredited (date unknown), Box Office Mojo: Treasure Planet, http://www.boxofficemojo.com/movies/?id=treasureplanet.htm (accessed 16 November 2005)

Rand, Matthew (4 October 2005), Ultimate Disney: Cinderella Platinum Edition DVD Review, http://www.ultimatedisney.com/cinderella.html (accessed 16 November 2005)

Rovira, Jim (16 September 2003), Metaphilm: The Lion King - Hamlet and the Myth of Happy Vengeange, http://metaphilm.com/philm.php?id=184_0_2_0 (accessed 16 November 2005)

Films Referenced

One Hundred and One Dalmatians, USA: Wolfgang Reitherman, Hamilton Luske and Clyde Geronimi, 1961

Pinocchio, USA: Ben Sharpsteen and Hamilton Luske, 1940

Treasure Planet, USA: John Musker and Ron Clements, 2002