Danish storyteller Hans Christian Andersen was a deeply imaginative man who wrote many enduring fairy tales, including The Little Mermaid, The Steadfast Tin Soldier and Thumbelina. Of all the tales he composed, my favorite would probably have to be The Ugly Duckling, a classic story of a misfit who ultimately comes to be seen as beautiful by the very birds who ridiculed him.
Such a story seems a perfect fit for Disney, so it’s little wonder that
it was the subject of two Silly Symphonies. The picture book The Ugly Duckling,
written by acclaimed children’s author Margaret Wise Brown and
illustrated by Gil DiCicco, is an adaptation of the second, which was
released in 1939.
This Disney version differs from Andersen’s
tale in that the entire story takes place in the title character’s
youth. The “ugly duckling” is born to a pair of ducks who ostracize him
because he does not resemble their four fluffy yellow ducklings. He is
white and much larger than they are, and he makes a peculiar honking
noise instead of quacking. Once he realizes that he is unwanted, he
meanders through the marshlands looking for someone who will treat him
kindly until he finally finds a group of birds with whom he fits in.
The main character is absolutely adorable, full of exuberant energy and
eager to face the world with a smile. The lovely watercolor paintings,
whose backdrops are rich in natural detail, emphasize how different he
is from his siblings while showing that this does not bother him in the
slightest. The pictures of him walking around while still mostly inside
his shell are especially cute. After the first few pages, his innocent
duck-billed grin gives way to sadness as he realizes that nobody wants
him around. The illustration in which he gazes at his reflection in the
water while a tear trickles down his nose is truly heartbreaking.
Brown weaves the tale through simple but effective language. Aside from
some honking, the duck parents are the only characters in the book with
any dialogue. We get the sense that this is a bird who is not yet
capable of intelligible speech. That increases the lonely feeling of
this book, as not only is this youngster on his own, he doesn’t seem
able to tell others what is wrong.
The tone here is a bit
different than in the original since it’s about acceptance, not
vindication. We never see the ducks again at the end of the book, so
there’s no moment of realization as they marvel at his beauty. Indeed,
he’s still a bit gangly and awkward; it will be some time before he
becomes a stately adult. However, he has found a family to love him as
he is, and that is all he needs to make him happy. In some ways, then, I
think I like this version even better.
The treatment this
open-hearted character receives from other birds, particularly his
supposed family, is discouraging. They never give him a chance. Then
again, the situation is sadly not that uncommon. While the cruelty
displayed early in the book is troubling, the affectionate resolution,
depicted in a joyous fold-out three-page spread, leaves the reader with a
sense of warmth and optimism. If “one little duck in the wide, wide
world” can find acceptance, maybe other societal rejects can too.
Showing posts with label Hans Christian Andersen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hans Christian Andersen. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Flying Whales and Lovelorn Ducks Make Fantasia 2000 Even Better Than the Original
Back in May, my brother graduated from college. When I peeked out the
door that morning to see how the weather was shaping up, storm clouds
loomed ominously, making Pomp and Circumstance from Fantasia 2000
feel doubly appropriate for the day. Not only is the song instantly
associated with graduations, but in Disney’s 38th animated feature, it
serves as the backdrop to a quirky riff on the story of Noah’s Ark, and
we seemed to be in for a similar soaker. I’m not sure what happened to
those rainclouds; by the time we got to the ceremony, the weather was
gorgeous. Still, I’ve had that Disney segment rolling around in my head
ever since, so I was happy to rewatch Fantasia 2000 recently.
When Walt Disney first conceived of Fantasia, which became the company’s third animated feature film, he intended to revive it periodically, retaining some segments and inserting new ones. That concept died after the rather unconventional movie using animation as a means of exploring classical music failed to prove as popular as he’d hoped, but six decades later, a sequel finally hit theaters. All new material except for the iconic Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the movie also features introductions by several celebrities and glimpses of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, which performed the music. Some of the presenters, particularly Steve Martin and magical act Penn and Teller, are comical, while others, like Quincy Jones and Angela Lansbury, give more serious introductions. Bette Midler’s is perhaps the most educational of the intros, while James Earl Jones’ thwarted dignity in his amuses me, as does Mickey Mouse’s panicked conversation with conductor James Levine.
As with the original, some segments stand out more than others, but each has a distinct style and tells a compelling story without the need for dialogue. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice remains just as engaging all these years later as Mickey, apprenticed to glowering wizard Yen Sid, seizes his chance to try on his boss’s magical hat and calamity, mostly involving multiplying, marching brooms carrying buckets of water, ensues. Exciting and entertaining with a built-in lesson on the dangers of meddling in complex matters without permission or assistance. Meanwhile, Pomp and Circumstance becomes a showcase for Donald and Daisy Duck as these two lovebirds sail on Noah’s Ark, each unaware that the other has survived the flood until they reunite at last once the boat strikes land. The familiarity of the song, the sweetness of their relationship and the humor involved with having so many different types of animals contained in one place makes this a standout segment, starting with the glorious animation of the Lion King-like summons that draws the creatures to the ark.
Carnival of the Animals does not have the diversity of animals one might expect from the name, but it is a delightful romp involving a serious, well-coordinated flock of flamingoes troubled by a prankster with a yoyo. One of the shortest and funniest segments, it shows the havoc a yoyo would wreak amidst a flock of these otherwise elegant birds. Instead of birds, butterflies and bats are the subject of the abstract short set to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. Colorful and stylized, it does not feature any distinct characters but weaves a joyful tale nonetheless. This first segment makes a nice match for the final segment, Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, as they both involve the tug of war between light and dark, creation and destruction. In Firebird, a vile volcano sends magma rampaging through a tranquil wilderness as an elk and a gentle wood sprite watch in horror. This segment reminded me quite a bit of the forest fire portion of Bambi, and it is probably the darkest part of the movie, though the scenes of restoration are quite lovely.
Another harrowing tale is Hans Christian Andersen’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier, set to Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No . 2 in F Major-I. I was familiar with this story as a child but always found it terribly depressing; Disney gives it a much more conventional happy ending. One of the most strictly narrative of the segments, it features a plucky toy soldier, a beautiful toy doll and a hideous jack-in-the-box that would give just about any kid nightmares. Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue has a bit of a down tone to it, filled as it is with hard-luck cases wandering the streets in economic despair; after all, this is the Depression. The characters have a very interesting look to them, all one flat color or another, a reflection of the cartoons of Al Hirschfeld, a contemporary of Gershwin. Despite the air of disappointment and agitation hanging over New York City throughout much of the segment, there is also life and excitement, which we largely see from the perspective of one zesty character who is entirely too confident in his ability not to fall off of scaffolding. Ultimately a very fun piece.
My hands-down favorite, however, is The Pines of Rome, composed by Ottorino Respighi. In this mystical short, a family of humpback whales traverses the arctic by air rather than sea – though they never venture far from the water until the gloriously animated finale. The little whale who hasn’t quite mastered the newly acquired gift of flight prompts some laughter with his clumsy movements, but generally this segment feels solemn, with a beauty that almost brings tears to the eyes, particularly when the family joins with the larger pod. The short begins in disaster, yet there is the sense that these majestic creatures are moving toward something greater. Truly epic.
I’m not exactly an aficionado when it comes to symphonic music. I think I’d only heard about half of these songs in other settings, and as much as I enjoy them in this context, I haven’t sought the others out elsewhere. Still, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if some of those for whom Fantasia 2000 serves as an introduction to this type of music ended up immersing themselves in classical music. A triumph of art and silent storytelling, this is also a movie that can serve as a powerful introduction to some of the most notable composers of the last few centuries. Here’s hoping it won’t take another 60 years to see the next one.
When Walt Disney first conceived of Fantasia, which became the company’s third animated feature film, he intended to revive it periodically, retaining some segments and inserting new ones. That concept died after the rather unconventional movie using animation as a means of exploring classical music failed to prove as popular as he’d hoped, but six decades later, a sequel finally hit theaters. All new material except for the iconic Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the movie also features introductions by several celebrities and glimpses of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, which performed the music. Some of the presenters, particularly Steve Martin and magical act Penn and Teller, are comical, while others, like Quincy Jones and Angela Lansbury, give more serious introductions. Bette Midler’s is perhaps the most educational of the intros, while James Earl Jones’ thwarted dignity in his amuses me, as does Mickey Mouse’s panicked conversation with conductor James Levine.
As with the original, some segments stand out more than others, but each has a distinct style and tells a compelling story without the need for dialogue. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice remains just as engaging all these years later as Mickey, apprenticed to glowering wizard Yen Sid, seizes his chance to try on his boss’s magical hat and calamity, mostly involving multiplying, marching brooms carrying buckets of water, ensues. Exciting and entertaining with a built-in lesson on the dangers of meddling in complex matters without permission or assistance. Meanwhile, Pomp and Circumstance becomes a showcase for Donald and Daisy Duck as these two lovebirds sail on Noah’s Ark, each unaware that the other has survived the flood until they reunite at last once the boat strikes land. The familiarity of the song, the sweetness of their relationship and the humor involved with having so many different types of animals contained in one place makes this a standout segment, starting with the glorious animation of the Lion King-like summons that draws the creatures to the ark.
Carnival of the Animals does not have the diversity of animals one might expect from the name, but it is a delightful romp involving a serious, well-coordinated flock of flamingoes troubled by a prankster with a yoyo. One of the shortest and funniest segments, it shows the havoc a yoyo would wreak amidst a flock of these otherwise elegant birds. Instead of birds, butterflies and bats are the subject of the abstract short set to Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. Colorful and stylized, it does not feature any distinct characters but weaves a joyful tale nonetheless. This first segment makes a nice match for the final segment, Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite, as they both involve the tug of war between light and dark, creation and destruction. In Firebird, a vile volcano sends magma rampaging through a tranquil wilderness as an elk and a gentle wood sprite watch in horror. This segment reminded me quite a bit of the forest fire portion of Bambi, and it is probably the darkest part of the movie, though the scenes of restoration are quite lovely.
Another harrowing tale is Hans Christian Andersen’s The Steadfast Tin Soldier, set to Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No . 2 in F Major-I. I was familiar with this story as a child but always found it terribly depressing; Disney gives it a much more conventional happy ending. One of the most strictly narrative of the segments, it features a plucky toy soldier, a beautiful toy doll and a hideous jack-in-the-box that would give just about any kid nightmares. Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue has a bit of a down tone to it, filled as it is with hard-luck cases wandering the streets in economic despair; after all, this is the Depression. The characters have a very interesting look to them, all one flat color or another, a reflection of the cartoons of Al Hirschfeld, a contemporary of Gershwin. Despite the air of disappointment and agitation hanging over New York City throughout much of the segment, there is also life and excitement, which we largely see from the perspective of one zesty character who is entirely too confident in his ability not to fall off of scaffolding. Ultimately a very fun piece.
My hands-down favorite, however, is The Pines of Rome, composed by Ottorino Respighi. In this mystical short, a family of humpback whales traverses the arctic by air rather than sea – though they never venture far from the water until the gloriously animated finale. The little whale who hasn’t quite mastered the newly acquired gift of flight prompts some laughter with his clumsy movements, but generally this segment feels solemn, with a beauty that almost brings tears to the eyes, particularly when the family joins with the larger pod. The short begins in disaster, yet there is the sense that these majestic creatures are moving toward something greater. Truly epic.
I’m not exactly an aficionado when it comes to symphonic music. I think I’d only heard about half of these songs in other settings, and as much as I enjoy them in this context, I haven’t sought the others out elsewhere. Still, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if some of those for whom Fantasia 2000 serves as an introduction to this type of music ended up immersing themselves in classical music. A triumph of art and silent storytelling, this is also a movie that can serve as a powerful introduction to some of the most notable composers of the last few centuries. Here’s hoping it won’t take another 60 years to see the next one.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Love Blooms Between Fish and Boy in Ponyo
I’ve been a fan of The Little Mermaid since the Disney version
hit theaters when I was in second grade, and I’ve heard many accolades
directed at Hayao Miyazaki, the man who helmed such critically acclaimed
films as Howl’s Moving Castle and Princess Mononoke. Hence, I was very curious about Ponyo, a Japanese re-imagining of the Hans Christian Andersen tale of a mermaid who dreams of becoming human.
I’ve seen foreign films dubbed into English before, but one thing that makes Ponyo different is the fact that so many of the voice actors are familiar, including Liam Neeson, Tina Fey, Cate Blanchett, Cloris Leachman, Lily Tomlin and Betty White. Meanwhile, the children at the heart of the movie are from famous families; Frankie Jonas is brother to the Jonas Brothers, while Noah Lindsey Cyrus is Miley Cyrus’s sister. Having so many well-known voices in the movie was fun, albeit slightly distracting as I tried to figure out which actor was attached to each of the characters.
One identification that never eluded me was Neeson as Fujimoto, Ponyo’s overprotective father who has the force of the ocean at his command. He is similar in many ways to King Triton, his counterpart in the Disney film, but the character I kept thinking of was Bryan Mills, the distraught, dangerous dad in the 2008 thriller Taken. Like Bryan, he goes to extraordinary extremes to retrieve his daughter after she vanishes, causing me to conclude that whether he is in live-action or animated form, you simply do not mess with Liam Neeson’s daughter. In Ponyo, the whole town must pay the price for Ponyo’s disappearance as he subjects them to horrific flooding while he searches for his little fish-girl, even though she clearly is on land of her own volition.
Ponyo bears only the most basic of similarities to The Little Mermaid. The headstrong daughter of an undersea monarch escapes her humdrum underwater existence after befriending a human boy. The main characters are much younger in this instance, so while there is still an element of romantic love at play here, this is not a movie that’s going to end in a wedding. Sosuke and Ponyo are still just small children, so it’s little wonder that Fujimoto is so concerned, though his determination to punish all of humanity, whom he already loathes for their ecological carelessness, is a tad excessive.
The Little Mermaid’s Prince Eric is one of the more interesting of the traditional Disney princes, but he’s still not exactly a fully realized character. In this film, Sosuke is much more fleshed out than the princess. A lively, compassionate little boy, he delights in visiting the elderly ladies at the nursing home near his school and operating the beacon in his lighthouse to signal to his seafaring father that he is on the lookout for him.
When he and Ponyo first meet, she is still a “goldfish” - though she looks like no goldfish I ever saw. She doesn’t even look like a fish. Rather, she is a strange blob with a humanoid face and four appendages that vaguely resemble human limbs. But Sosuke loves her instantly and scoops her up out of the water to claim for his pet. Ponyo doesn’t mind being snatched up; she returns Sosuke’s affection and quickly develops a taste for human food as she snatches some ham from his sandwich. This simple act is an essential component in her later transformation into a little girl of few words who really, really LOVES ham, as she loudly proclaims on several occasions.
There is an environmentalist thread that runs through this film as Miyazaki uses the wild-looking Fujimoto to express discontent with the excesses of humanity and demonstrate how people might come to pay for disregarding ecological matters. But mostly, this is a story of love, pure and simple. Ponyo and Sosuke are as open-hearted as children can be, embracing each other and everyone around them with expansive enthusiasm and kindness. Among the voice actors, intimidating Neeson, harried Fey and affable White make the biggest impression, with Fey having a particularly hefty role as Sosuke’s devoted but frazzled mother.
Ponyo is beautifully animated, though some of the visual elements of the movie are strange indeed, particularly the various sea creatures who aid or hinder Ponyo in her quest. In addition to looking exceedingly odd, Ponyo sounds quite crazed most of the time, causing me to burst out laughing at nearly all of her dialogue. Equally silly is the bouncy end-credits song that starts in immediately after the movie concludes. Meanwhile, my mom was horrified at the erratic driving habits of Sosuke’s mother, which, like several aspects of the movie, are exaggerated to a rather absurd degree. There’s an element of strangeness to the film that makes it hard for me to embrace completely, but for the most part, I found Ponyo to be a fresh and very sweet twist on an old tale.
I’ve seen foreign films dubbed into English before, but one thing that makes Ponyo different is the fact that so many of the voice actors are familiar, including Liam Neeson, Tina Fey, Cate Blanchett, Cloris Leachman, Lily Tomlin and Betty White. Meanwhile, the children at the heart of the movie are from famous families; Frankie Jonas is brother to the Jonas Brothers, while Noah Lindsey Cyrus is Miley Cyrus’s sister. Having so many well-known voices in the movie was fun, albeit slightly distracting as I tried to figure out which actor was attached to each of the characters.
One identification that never eluded me was Neeson as Fujimoto, Ponyo’s overprotective father who has the force of the ocean at his command. He is similar in many ways to King Triton, his counterpart in the Disney film, but the character I kept thinking of was Bryan Mills, the distraught, dangerous dad in the 2008 thriller Taken. Like Bryan, he goes to extraordinary extremes to retrieve his daughter after she vanishes, causing me to conclude that whether he is in live-action or animated form, you simply do not mess with Liam Neeson’s daughter. In Ponyo, the whole town must pay the price for Ponyo’s disappearance as he subjects them to horrific flooding while he searches for his little fish-girl, even though she clearly is on land of her own volition.
Ponyo bears only the most basic of similarities to The Little Mermaid. The headstrong daughter of an undersea monarch escapes her humdrum underwater existence after befriending a human boy. The main characters are much younger in this instance, so while there is still an element of romantic love at play here, this is not a movie that’s going to end in a wedding. Sosuke and Ponyo are still just small children, so it’s little wonder that Fujimoto is so concerned, though his determination to punish all of humanity, whom he already loathes for their ecological carelessness, is a tad excessive.
The Little Mermaid’s Prince Eric is one of the more interesting of the traditional Disney princes, but he’s still not exactly a fully realized character. In this film, Sosuke is much more fleshed out than the princess. A lively, compassionate little boy, he delights in visiting the elderly ladies at the nursing home near his school and operating the beacon in his lighthouse to signal to his seafaring father that he is on the lookout for him.
When he and Ponyo first meet, she is still a “goldfish” - though she looks like no goldfish I ever saw. She doesn’t even look like a fish. Rather, she is a strange blob with a humanoid face and four appendages that vaguely resemble human limbs. But Sosuke loves her instantly and scoops her up out of the water to claim for his pet. Ponyo doesn’t mind being snatched up; she returns Sosuke’s affection and quickly develops a taste for human food as she snatches some ham from his sandwich. This simple act is an essential component in her later transformation into a little girl of few words who really, really LOVES ham, as she loudly proclaims on several occasions.
There is an environmentalist thread that runs through this film as Miyazaki uses the wild-looking Fujimoto to express discontent with the excesses of humanity and demonstrate how people might come to pay for disregarding ecological matters. But mostly, this is a story of love, pure and simple. Ponyo and Sosuke are as open-hearted as children can be, embracing each other and everyone around them with expansive enthusiasm and kindness. Among the voice actors, intimidating Neeson, harried Fey and affable White make the biggest impression, with Fey having a particularly hefty role as Sosuke’s devoted but frazzled mother.
Ponyo is beautifully animated, though some of the visual elements of the movie are strange indeed, particularly the various sea creatures who aid or hinder Ponyo in her quest. In addition to looking exceedingly odd, Ponyo sounds quite crazed most of the time, causing me to burst out laughing at nearly all of her dialogue. Equally silly is the bouncy end-credits song that starts in immediately after the movie concludes. Meanwhile, my mom was horrified at the erratic driving habits of Sosuke’s mother, which, like several aspects of the movie, are exaggerated to a rather absurd degree. There’s an element of strangeness to the film that makes it hard for me to embrace completely, but for the most part, I found Ponyo to be a fresh and very sweet twist on an old tale.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
My Top Ten Movies of the '50s
I watch a lot of movies, but my list of movies that came out before the
'60s is fairly short. One of these days I need to expand my familiarity
with '50s cinema, but as of now, these are my ten favorites of the
decade.
Harvey (1950) - I first heard of this movie because I was curious about the origin of the name of my aunt's cat, Chumley. She explained that he was a character from this film, and that she'd also had a cat named Elwood. That's the character Jimmy Stewart plays, a mild-mannered bachelor who scandalizes his socialite sister by hanging around in bars and consorting with a six-foot-tall rabbit no one else can see. Very funny and, in its way, extremely wise.
Hans Christian Andersen (1952) - We rented this when The Little Mermaid came out in theaters. I assume that this was to give my brother and me some background on the man who wrote this story that had so enchanted us. The story of the mermaid who longs to be human is only one of many Andersen tales referenced in this delightful musical biopic. Thumbellina and The Ugly Duckling are other standouts, all magnificently told by the vivacious Danny Kaye.
Lady and the Tramp (1955) - One of Disney's most romantic movies, despite the fact that the main characters are dogs. More than just about any animated Disney film up to this point, there's ample time taken to develop their individual personalities and let their romance unfold gradually. A high-class dame and a scallywag make a go of it, once he's demonstrated that he's not such a scoundrel after all. That candlelit spaghetti dinner stands as one of the most romantic scenes in any film, animated or not.
Oklahoma! (1955) - I was in high school before I got into this one. I'd seen it once but hadn't been that impressed. Then I heard it was to be the spring musical my junior year. Soon I was well acquainted with it, and my classmates' production, particularly one friend's tour de force performance as overbearing Ado Annie, won me over to the musical completely. It's hardly my favorite Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, but it has some wonderful moments, including the auction and anything involving Ado Annie or Ali Hakim.
Carousel (1956) - I didn't know a thing about this musical until I saw the play, starring my future acting teacher's wife, my freshman year of high school, at which point I became completely obsessed with it. Though the movie doesn't quite capture the play's magnificence, in part because of a strange framing device that takes away the element of surprise, it's one of Rodgers and Hammerstein's most thought-provoking efforts. The songs range from comical to inspiring, with You'll Never Walk Alone transcending the musical to attain its own iconic status.
The Court Jester (1956) - Danny Kaye again, in one of his silliest and most entertaining roles. He was such a wonderful performer, and he pulls out everything in his arsenal here. A master of slapstick, he was ideally suited to play a jester, but it's the verbal acrobatics that really stick with me. "The vessel with the pestle holds the pellet with the poison. The flagon with the dragon holds the brew that is true." Try saying that ten times fast!
The King and I (1956) - Yes, it was a good decade for Rodgers and Hammerstein. This, too, has a high school connection, as my acting teacher, his wife and their two children starred in a local production of it. But I'd loved the musical long before that and in particular the performance of Yul Brynner as the imperious king whose bark is generally worse than his bite. Though certain elements of this culture clash saga paint him in an antagonistic light, he is my favorite character, a man who, much like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, struggles to reconcile centuries of tradition with a world clearly changing around him.
The Red Balloon (1956) - Short, sweet, sad. This nearly-wordless French film depicts one glorious day in which a boy befriends a balloon and roves through town with it, reveling in the spirit of adventure but never far from hostile forces. A gentle fantasy whose tragic elements cannot overpower its ability to uplift. "No one can be un-cheered by a balloon," postulates Pooh; this film may prove that he is correct.
Old Yeller (1957) - Now, if you really want depressing, this is the movie for you. Most of its cast would go on to star in Swiss Family Robinson, which features several exotic creatures, none of which end up with rabies. It's a fate not to be wished on any dog, especially one so faithful as Yeller. This classic with the deceptively cheerful theme song is the quintessential Boy Meets Pet-Boy and Pet Have Adventures-Boy Kills Pet tale, so if you like weepy animal stories, you can't consider your repertoire complete until you've seen it.
The Shaggy Dog (1959) - If you'd rather have the animals without the tragedy, Disney proves itself equally adept with live-action comedy. Tommy Kirk from Old Yeller returns for this goofy tale of a teen with the unhappy habit of transforming into an enormous English Sheepdog. There's a reason for this, of course, and the aim is to ultimately get his normal life back. It all ends very happily - but not happily enough to prevent a couple of equally silly sequels.
Harvey (1950) - I first heard of this movie because I was curious about the origin of the name of my aunt's cat, Chumley. She explained that he was a character from this film, and that she'd also had a cat named Elwood. That's the character Jimmy Stewart plays, a mild-mannered bachelor who scandalizes his socialite sister by hanging around in bars and consorting with a six-foot-tall rabbit no one else can see. Very funny and, in its way, extremely wise.
Hans Christian Andersen (1952) - We rented this when The Little Mermaid came out in theaters. I assume that this was to give my brother and me some background on the man who wrote this story that had so enchanted us. The story of the mermaid who longs to be human is only one of many Andersen tales referenced in this delightful musical biopic. Thumbellina and The Ugly Duckling are other standouts, all magnificently told by the vivacious Danny Kaye.
Lady and the Tramp (1955) - One of Disney's most romantic movies, despite the fact that the main characters are dogs. More than just about any animated Disney film up to this point, there's ample time taken to develop their individual personalities and let their romance unfold gradually. A high-class dame and a scallywag make a go of it, once he's demonstrated that he's not such a scoundrel after all. That candlelit spaghetti dinner stands as one of the most romantic scenes in any film, animated or not.
Oklahoma! (1955) - I was in high school before I got into this one. I'd seen it once but hadn't been that impressed. Then I heard it was to be the spring musical my junior year. Soon I was well acquainted with it, and my classmates' production, particularly one friend's tour de force performance as overbearing Ado Annie, won me over to the musical completely. It's hardly my favorite Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, but it has some wonderful moments, including the auction and anything involving Ado Annie or Ali Hakim.
Carousel (1956) - I didn't know a thing about this musical until I saw the play, starring my future acting teacher's wife, my freshman year of high school, at which point I became completely obsessed with it. Though the movie doesn't quite capture the play's magnificence, in part because of a strange framing device that takes away the element of surprise, it's one of Rodgers and Hammerstein's most thought-provoking efforts. The songs range from comical to inspiring, with You'll Never Walk Alone transcending the musical to attain its own iconic status.
The Court Jester (1956) - Danny Kaye again, in one of his silliest and most entertaining roles. He was such a wonderful performer, and he pulls out everything in his arsenal here. A master of slapstick, he was ideally suited to play a jester, but it's the verbal acrobatics that really stick with me. "The vessel with the pestle holds the pellet with the poison. The flagon with the dragon holds the brew that is true." Try saying that ten times fast!
The King and I (1956) - Yes, it was a good decade for Rodgers and Hammerstein. This, too, has a high school connection, as my acting teacher, his wife and their two children starred in a local production of it. But I'd loved the musical long before that and in particular the performance of Yul Brynner as the imperious king whose bark is generally worse than his bite. Though certain elements of this culture clash saga paint him in an antagonistic light, he is my favorite character, a man who, much like Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, struggles to reconcile centuries of tradition with a world clearly changing around him.
The Red Balloon (1956) - Short, sweet, sad. This nearly-wordless French film depicts one glorious day in which a boy befriends a balloon and roves through town with it, reveling in the spirit of adventure but never far from hostile forces. A gentle fantasy whose tragic elements cannot overpower its ability to uplift. "No one can be un-cheered by a balloon," postulates Pooh; this film may prove that he is correct.
Old Yeller (1957) - Now, if you really want depressing, this is the movie for you. Most of its cast would go on to star in Swiss Family Robinson, which features several exotic creatures, none of which end up with rabies. It's a fate not to be wished on any dog, especially one so faithful as Yeller. This classic with the deceptively cheerful theme song is the quintessential Boy Meets Pet-Boy and Pet Have Adventures-Boy Kills Pet tale, so if you like weepy animal stories, you can't consider your repertoire complete until you've seen it.
The Shaggy Dog (1959) - If you'd rather have the animals without the tragedy, Disney proves itself equally adept with live-action comedy. Tommy Kirk from Old Yeller returns for this goofy tale of a teen with the unhappy habit of transforming into an enormous English Sheepdog. There's a reason for this, of course, and the aim is to ultimately get his normal life back. It all ends very happily - but not happily enough to prevent a couple of equally silly sequels.
Wednesday, June 27, 2001
Are You Rolling Over Yet, Hans Christian Andersen?
I'm a big fan of Hans Christian Andersen, the cobbler who contributed
some of the finest fairy tales to the body of children's literature. His
stories have been translated into film on numerous occasions. The film I
am about to review is, I fervently hope, the worst of them. We picked The Swans up for a buck at the store a few years back, and now we know why it was so cheap!
The first thing that struck me about this video was its poor quality. The animation looked like something out of the thirties, even though it was made in 1985. And no amount of tracking could reduce the wavering that consistently plagued the movie. As for the sound...well, if the animation seemed bad, it was nothing compared to the sound. The audio track wiggled and wavered, moving in and out of states of extreme distortion. Thus, I can attest that the initial words found on the description on the back of the video -- wondrous songs and beautiful animation -- couldn't be further from the truth.
Now, perhaps the songs would be tolerable if the sound wasn't so unreliable, but they would still be a far cry from great. The first song is an inane tune the children sing about how happy their lives are as they run around with animal masks on and await their father's arrival from a long trip. Lisa, the only girl of the bunch, then sings a lullaby to her 12 brothers. Then there's the recurring theme: They're the swans, they don't know where they belong, they fly in circles and they cry... And the love theme: Sometime, somehow, somewhere we'll be free. None come anywhere near the quality of a Disney or Don Bluth song.
The story begins when the king returns home to his children, having taken an evil queen for his bride. The queen, jealous of the attention showered upon the youths, casts a spell on the boys which makes them swans by day. Lisa, who is clearly her father's favorite child, receives a different spell which transforms her into a common girl who is apparently as ugly as Lisa was beautiful; she looks about the same to me, except her hair is scraggly and she has dirt on her face.
At any rate, the king no longer recognizes her, and she is banished from the kingdom. After taking up lodgings with an old woman on the edge of town, Lisa sees her befowled brothers flying overhead and recognizes them instantly. Joyous, she flags them down for a reunion, but the swans do not repay her the courtesy of recognition. (This is the best part of the movie, the line my brother and I always wait for when some young whippersnapper with no taste who we are watching for the afternoon decides to waste seventy minutes on this movie. Usually this is all the time we care to commit to The Swans.) When Lisa tells her brothers that she is their long-lost sister, one swan retorts, "You can't be our sister! Our sister was very beautiful, and you're really ugly!" Wow.
At this point, Lisa, apparently despondent over such callous treatment, dives into a pool far below the ledge where she is standing. What the slightly remorseful swans do not realize is that Lisa took the plunge because this was a magical pool that would restore her previous appearance. Of course, once Lisa regains her beauty her brothers are thrilled and everything is all hunky-dory. At least for a while. But there is still the troubling matter that Lisa's brothers are all birds.
And their transformation will not be achieved so easily as hers. Lisa learns from a raven, or perhaps it's a crow, that in order to break her stepmother's curse she must undergo an arduous ordeal on their behalf. In addition to the difficult tasks she must perform, she has to promise not to speak a word. Unlike Ariel, who had her speech stripped from her, Lisa must discipline herself because she could speak at any time, but it would cost her brothers their shot at a normal life.
Meanwhile, she meets a prince who falls head over heels in love with her, and she is unable to verbally tell him that she loves him too. Not only that, her mysterious activities have caught the attention of some of the noblemen of the kingdom in which she has arrived, and she runs the risk of being tried as a witch, without the possibility of defending herself. In the end, of course, love must triumph, but the only emotion I've ever felt at the end of this film was relief that it was over.
Obviously this was not meant to be an award-winning production. It was never in the theaters (thank goodness) and I've never seen it in another store since then. If you should come across it though, even if you find it for a dollar like we did, spare yourself. Don't buy it. You may have neighbors and nieces who will discover it and decide they want to watch it, and once is more than enough times to view this low-budget massacre of a Hans Christian Andersen masterpiece.
The first thing that struck me about this video was its poor quality. The animation looked like something out of the thirties, even though it was made in 1985. And no amount of tracking could reduce the wavering that consistently plagued the movie. As for the sound...well, if the animation seemed bad, it was nothing compared to the sound. The audio track wiggled and wavered, moving in and out of states of extreme distortion. Thus, I can attest that the initial words found on the description on the back of the video -- wondrous songs and beautiful animation -- couldn't be further from the truth.
Now, perhaps the songs would be tolerable if the sound wasn't so unreliable, but they would still be a far cry from great. The first song is an inane tune the children sing about how happy their lives are as they run around with animal masks on and await their father's arrival from a long trip. Lisa, the only girl of the bunch, then sings a lullaby to her 12 brothers. Then there's the recurring theme: They're the swans, they don't know where they belong, they fly in circles and they cry... And the love theme: Sometime, somehow, somewhere we'll be free. None come anywhere near the quality of a Disney or Don Bluth song.
The story begins when the king returns home to his children, having taken an evil queen for his bride. The queen, jealous of the attention showered upon the youths, casts a spell on the boys which makes them swans by day. Lisa, who is clearly her father's favorite child, receives a different spell which transforms her into a common girl who is apparently as ugly as Lisa was beautiful; she looks about the same to me, except her hair is scraggly and she has dirt on her face.
At any rate, the king no longer recognizes her, and she is banished from the kingdom. After taking up lodgings with an old woman on the edge of town, Lisa sees her befowled brothers flying overhead and recognizes them instantly. Joyous, she flags them down for a reunion, but the swans do not repay her the courtesy of recognition. (This is the best part of the movie, the line my brother and I always wait for when some young whippersnapper with no taste who we are watching for the afternoon decides to waste seventy minutes on this movie. Usually this is all the time we care to commit to The Swans.) When Lisa tells her brothers that she is their long-lost sister, one swan retorts, "You can't be our sister! Our sister was very beautiful, and you're really ugly!" Wow.
At this point, Lisa, apparently despondent over such callous treatment, dives into a pool far below the ledge where she is standing. What the slightly remorseful swans do not realize is that Lisa took the plunge because this was a magical pool that would restore her previous appearance. Of course, once Lisa regains her beauty her brothers are thrilled and everything is all hunky-dory. At least for a while. But there is still the troubling matter that Lisa's brothers are all birds.
And their transformation will not be achieved so easily as hers. Lisa learns from a raven, or perhaps it's a crow, that in order to break her stepmother's curse she must undergo an arduous ordeal on their behalf. In addition to the difficult tasks she must perform, she has to promise not to speak a word. Unlike Ariel, who had her speech stripped from her, Lisa must discipline herself because she could speak at any time, but it would cost her brothers their shot at a normal life.
Meanwhile, she meets a prince who falls head over heels in love with her, and she is unable to verbally tell him that she loves him too. Not only that, her mysterious activities have caught the attention of some of the noblemen of the kingdom in which she has arrived, and she runs the risk of being tried as a witch, without the possibility of defending herself. In the end, of course, love must triumph, but the only emotion I've ever felt at the end of this film was relief that it was over.
Obviously this was not meant to be an award-winning production. It was never in the theaters (thank goodness) and I've never seen it in another store since then. If you should come across it though, even if you find it for a dollar like we did, spare yourself. Don't buy it. You may have neighbors and nieces who will discover it and decide they want to watch it, and once is more than enough times to view this low-budget massacre of a Hans Christian Andersen masterpiece.
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