Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Fantasia 2000

Today we’re going to do something we haven’t done before at Started By A Condor: review a sequel before the original. This wasn’t planned, but the HiddenPrincess requested to watch this particular movie, and I couldn’t help but take notes while we watched together; the fact that this happens to be one of my favorites among Disney’s modern animated films didn’t dissuade me from sitting down to enjoy it with her, either. Ladies and gentlemen, what you will see on the screen … is my review of Disney’s Fantasia 2000.

Butterfly in the sky ... erm, in my hair ...

Released, of course, in 2000 (though the premier was held at Carnegie Hall in December of 1999,) this much-belated sequel was a long time coming in both planning and execution. During the creation of the original Fantasia (released in 1940,) Walt Disney became so enamored of the creative process behind it that he foresaw Fantasia as an ongoing event; the film could be in a state of perpetual release, with old sequences being replaced with new ones along the way. However, the dismal box office returns and so-so critical reception (as well as the outbreak of war in Europe preventing the film from international distribution) soon put an end to that particular notion. The film eventually made back its original budget through a series of successful re-releases (which often cut or truncated it’s original 126 minute length.) Walt’s nephew, Roy E. Disney, had been a champion of the film for years, and hoped to see his uncle’s hopes for a continuation become a reality. It wasn’t until 1984 that - during a luncheon with the company’s new CEO, Michael Eisner - Roy shared this wish and began to make it come true.

Following a successful theatrical and home-video re-release of the original film in 1990, Eisner felt assured that there was sufficient public interest to warrant a sequel. Work on the film took the better part of the next decade, as the individual sequences were worked on by different directors and teams of animators, just as the original had been. However, unlike the original the artists involved in Fantasia Continued (as it was initially titled) worked on the feature between other film assignments; progress on the film therefore came in fits and starts. Roy, who typically wasn’t directly involved in the production of films for his family’s company, got Rescuers Down Under producer Donald W. Ernst involved, and generally rallied creative teams to push ahead on the long-gestating project. Matters weren’t helped much by Animation Studio chief Jeffrey Katzenberg, who was not a fan of the project and left the supervisory work to Disney and Ernst. That the film was even completed and released in any form is a testament to Roy E. Disney’s dedication to the project.

Orchestras ... In ... Spaaaaaaace!

Just like the original, Fantasia 2000 is composed of a series of distinct animated sequences set to classical music (containing no dialogue or sound effects,) bookended by “host sequences,” which feature live-action footage of the orchestra (portrayed by actors) and Maestro James Levine. The visual effects on display in these host segments are stunning, with the orchestra seemingly floating through deep space on some sort of stage surrounded by huge sail-like sheets. Also like the original, the film begins with a sequence of abstract animation set to a familiar piece, in this case the first movement of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. The abstractions on display here, unlike the Toccata and Fugue segment from 1940, tell a story of sorts, involving colorful butterfly-like triangles that are attacked by a cloud of sinister black-and-red triangles. While many critics damned this sequence as “abstract-lite” compared to the original, even abstractions with personality is an unusual occurrence for the Disney of today.

My Fruity Pebbles are flying away!

The following segment, set to Ottorino Respighi’s Pines of Rome, follows a pod of Humpback Whales that are apparently able to fly while witnessing the aurora borealis. While the middle portion of this sequence (involving the recovery of a lost baby Whale) drags a bit, it ends in a magnificent spectacle as the entire pod flies into a shimmering celestial sea accompanied by the music’s thunderous climax. To be honest though, to me the whole thing looks like something you'd see painted on the side of a Dodge Santana.

They are not the hell your Whales...

Up next is the film's longest segment, and also it's most surprisingly creative. Rhapsody in Blue is set to the 1924 composition by American composer George Gershwin, and dramatizes a day in the lives of four New Yorkers who dream of something better for themselves. Styled after the art of legendary New Yorker cartoonist Al Hirschfeld (and directed by Eric Goldberg, also responsible for Aladdin’s Genie,) the sequence’s flat design is wonderfully retro, and the trials and tribulations of the highly-animated characters are funny and surprisingly affecting.

The bus back to Pop Century after the fireworks

Next is a short adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Steadfast Tin Soldier,” set to Dmitri Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2, Allegro. While the computer animation used to bring the toys to life is effective (and the silent interactions between the one-legged toy soldier and the ballerina are sweet,) this sequence has always struck me as rather boring. The musical choice is uninspired, and the storyline (thin as it is) may have benefitted from expansion rather than pantomime. This may be one of the sequences that began life earlier in the film’s creation, as CG toys coming to life had already been done (twice!) by Disney by this time.

Take my hand - take my whole life too...

Following the dull exploits of some Danish toys comes a frantic but extremely short segment. Accompanying the finale of Les Carnival des Animaux by Camille Saint-SaĆ«ns, it follows a wacky Flamingo who dissents from his flock by playing with a yo-yo. This sequence originally sprang from an idea by original Fantasia animator Joe Grant, who thought up a short involving the Ostrich ballerinas from his Dance of the Hours segment. At less than two-minutes, this bit flies by so fast it’s hard to register the lightning-paced humor going on - let alone the watercolor artistry behind the brilliantly pink birds. Despite it’s frantic brevity, I like this section very much.

Okay ladies - now get in formation, 'cause I slay...

Next up is the only segment repeated from the original Fantasia, and it’s the classic Sorcerer’s Apprentice, starring Mickey Mouse. While as many as three segments were under consideration for repeat performances (the others being the aforementioned Dance of the Hours and Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite, which was in the running up to six months before release,) it would be hard to imagine a Fantasia without the mouse in his iconic blue sorcerer hat and red robe. One imagines it would also deprive Disney of their main marketing tool.

For his next trick, Mickey will remove his big-ass hat!

I’m going to pause here for a moment to address the big negative against this sequel - the decision to have a roster of celebrity hosts introduce each segment. In the original Fantasia, each segment had a brief introduction delivered by music critic Deems Taylor (who also appears here in brief archive footage); in Fantasia 2000, however, the segments are each introduced by a different well-known personality. The results are - to be generous - extremely mixed. It starts off on the wrong foot following Symphony No. 5, when a tuxedo-clad Steve Martin comes out cracking jokes, saying that many of the musicians in the orchestra are playing for the first time - thanks to “Steve Martin's Two-Week Master Musician Home-Study Course!” Ugh. There is some unintentional humor, however, as the musicians around him remain as stone-faced as the viewing audience does during his protracted shenanigans. Also worth a cringe or two is Bette Midler’s extra-sassy introduction to “The Steadfast Tin Soldier,” where she presents artwork from unmade Fantasia sequences with a throaty “Here they come … and there they go!”

To be fair, a number of the hosts do a fine job of introducing their assigned segments - including violinist Itzhak Perlman, music mogul Quincy Jones, and Mufasa himself, James Earl Jones. They even prop up Angela Lansbury in a ball-gown to introduce the final sequence. But for the love of God, why the hell are Penn and Teller introducing The Sorcerer’s Apprentice!?! I know they’re supposed to be “magicians” and all - they prove this by doing a few extremely unfunny close-up illusions for our viewing “pleasure,” but their particular style of in-your-face humor is such an ill-fit for this movie. I understand that many people consider both this and the original Fantasia to be kitschy (I strongly disagree, and will die on a thousand hills declaring the original Fantasia the finest example of motion picture art ever crafted, damnit,) but the rest of the production at least attempts to give off a sophisticated vibe. I will go to my grave swearing up and down that PENN AND TELLER DON’T BELONG ANYWHERE NEAR FANTASIA!

NO!! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONOOOOO!!!!!

-ahem-

Following The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is a sequence scored to Sir Edward Elgar’s graduation ceremony mainstay Pomp and Circumstance, featuring none other than our old friend Donald Dick Duck in a wacky “Noah’s Ark” re-telling. While the slapstick humor here comes off a bit forced, the massive scale of the segment - with herds of animals marching two-by-two onto the mammoth vessel in time to the music - makes up for it’s shortcomings. Besides, the bit where Donald waves a pair of “real” ducks aboard while giving the audience a double-take always gets a chuckle.

Despite my best efforts, Donald continues to try and insinuate himself as blog mascot

The film’s final sequence is an artistic marvel, and one of the finest pieces of animation Disney's ever produced, as far as I’m concerned. Set to Igor Stravinsky's thrilling Firebird Suite, it tells the story of a mythological Sprite who is awoken by a majestic Deer to spread spring throughout a forest. The Sprite creates beautifully-realized flowers, trees and butterflies, before encountering a dormant volcano where no seed will take root. Venturing inside the rocky center, she inadvertently awakens a terrifying Firebird, who spreads molten rock and fire across the entire forest. The landscape is soon an empty, desolate wasteland, with only the Deer and an ashen, crestfallen Sprite left to mourn the spring. The Sprite soon realizes, however, that her tears bring new life to the gray landscape, and she transforms into a Water Sprite, spreading rain across the world and rapidly returning life to the woods. An exhilarating sequence, The Firebird Suite purposefully echoes the Night On Bald Mountain/Ave Maria ending of the original Fantasia (as well as its fiery Rite of Spring segment, also scored by Stravinsky,) and is a perfect way to close out the film.

Coming this fall on ABC: Hardcastle & McCormick-The Weird-Ass Reboot

Does this extremely belated sequel live up to the reputation of the 1940 original? That would depend entirely upon who you asked. It’s clear that I’m a big fan of this film, though not as much as the original. There are a number of things that work against this movie, beyond the odd choice of segment hosts. The film is short - at 75 minutes it’s nearly an hour shorter than the original film. The longest segment here is only half the length of 1940’s longest portion - though that’s not necessarily a bad thing, as Fantasia’s “The Pastoral,” is also it’s worst. While there is a fantastic amount of wonderful animation here, the film still lacks the go-for-broke artistic experimentation of the original; even the worst portions here are still played “safe,” when a little more risk may have yielded more memorable results. In a way, it’s a shame that such a wonderful film inevitably draws comparisons to it’s predecessor - even when the first film came sixty years prior.

Hotter than a fantasy, lonely like a highway

Released exclusively into IMAX theaters five months before its general release, Fantasia 2000 made back just over $90 million - only $5 million over its budget. Michael Eisner came to regard the decade-plus film project as “Roy’s Folly.” The animation studio was pushed to focus on smaller-budgeted films that stuck more closely to the strict formula of their recent successes - hopefully to produce another Aladdin or Lion King. Instead, Disney was soon plopping out turkeys like Brother Bear and Home On The Range. It’s not too far a stretch to see Eisner’s decision being one of the reasons he was eventually ousted from the company - thanks to a campaign led, perhaps not coincidentally, by Roy E. Disney.

Looking back now, it seems as if Fantasia 2000, with its exuberant mixture of old and new animation technology, diverse array of artistic sensibilities and somewhat scattershot pacing, signaled a kind-of grand finale for the 1990’s “Disney Renaissance” - which in actuality had been in a steady decline over the prior few years. It would take a few more “changes of guard” before Disney animation would begin to show such care and imagination again.

The hills really were alive with the sound of music

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