Lady and The Tramp

Me: Maybe they had an emergency in the kitchen?

me: Well, maybe … have you heard any commotion or anything back there?

Me: No … well, at least we’ve had some time to peruse the menu.

me: We’ve had a long time to peruse it - that’s the problem.

Me: Okay, I know. Anything look good to you?

me: Sure, a few things. They claim to have the best spaghetti in town. Want to try it?

Me: I don’t know … I always feel weird ordering spaghetti in a restaurant.

me: Why?

Me: I don’t know … it’s such a basic thing, isn’t it? I feel like I could throw together a spaghetti dinner myself without much fuss. Why waste a night out?

me: Well, yeah. If you whipped up some quick spaghetti, it probably wouldn’t be as good as pasta from a real Italian restaurant, though?

Me: I suppose not.

me: Unless you made the sauce from scratch?

Me: Yeah, maybe - but I wouldn't. Anyway, I’m not convinced this is a “real Italian restaurant,” to be honest.

me: How so?

Me: I don’t think the staff is Italian.

me: The owner sounded Italian…

Me: Yeah, but that chef ...

me: You mean Joe?

Me: Yeah. He didn’t sound Italian. He sounded like Mr. Smee putting on a bad accent. “Joe” isn’t even an Italian name, is it?

me: Hmm … now that you mention it, he did seem a little vaudeville. He sounds kind of like the White Rabbit.

Me: White Rabbit?

me: Yes … Alice in Wonderland?

Me: Oh, right.


…


me: So …

Me: So?

me: … are we going to talk about the cats?

Me: <sighs heavily> I don’t know …

me: Seems like it can’t be avoided, unfortunately.

Me: <groans> I know, I know …

me: Well?

Me: It’s just … there’s so much else to talk about …

me: Yes, that’s true … but …

Me: … and I feel like all I do any more is complain. There’s so much good stuff going on …

me: It is very pretty to look at.

Me: Yes, exactly. Can’t we talk about that?

me: Sure, of course.

Me: …

me: … Well?

Me: "Well” what?

me: Go ahead and talk about all the “good stuff.”

Me: I … there’s a … look, it’s not like I don’t want to …

me: Uh-huh …

Me: … it’s just … I don't know. They've been making animated movies for 18 years by this point, right?

me: Right.

Me: So does it even need to be pointed out that it looks great? Shouldn't that be a given?

me: It was their first widescreen one.

Me: … Well, that's true. You could tell they weren't used to it: some of the close-up's are framed weird.

me: There you go.

Me: Hey, no need to patronize me. I don't need help reviewing a Disney movie by this point.

me: Oh, really?

Me: Yes, really. Why the sarcasm?

me: Listen, the only reason we’re doing this is because you're having problems coming up with something to say - again - and you wanted time to talk it through …

Me: I know, I know.

me: Honestly. First it was writer's block over some jive-talking crows, and now the same thing because of some stupid cartoon cats …

Me: It's not just the cats. The cat thing I was prepared for. But there's more …

me: More?

Me: I didn't really want to get into this already …

me: Get into what?

Me: … I thought it could wait until Cinderella, or Alice in Wonderland …

 me: ??

Me: The … look, they made five animated movies in the '50's. I've never been crazy about most of them.

me: You haven't? But they're classics … like, all of them.

Me: Yeah, yeah … Cinderella saved the animation studio, people love Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan. I used to think Lady and The Tramp was one of Disney's better films …

me: What about Sleeping Beauty?

Me: I've always liked Sleeping Beauty. I still do. It's like the studio built up enough comfort food points over the decade to try something overtly artistic, and it bit Walt in the ass. After that he focused on Disneyland and let the animation studio go into a creative tailspin in the '60s.

me: What about the others? Cinderella, Peter Pan, etc.?

Me: I really can't ... it's just that after seeing so many of their movies from the '40s …

me: The "package films?"

Me: Yeah - the ones no one seems to like and Disney itself wants to ignore …

me: Well?

Me: They were … even when they weren't good, like the "Bongo" half of Fun and Fancy Free, or most of Melody Time … at least they were interesting.

me: <nods> Go on …

Me: Isn't it intrinsically better that they were trying new things out instead of going with what people wanted to see? I mean, The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad is mostly great, and The Three Caballeros is fantastic …

me: Yes - you won't shut up about that one …

Me: Fine, fine. But the thing is these ones from the '50s that everyone loves … they're just so …

me: Dull?

Me: Yes. They're so safe, and predictable … it's frustrating.

me: Mm-hmm.

Me: I've felt that way for a while. But now there's more to it … it’s like a perspective thing, you know?

me: Okay …

Me: It’s just all so … I don't know. Middle class?

me: <snickers> Well, what do you expect? That’s the name of the game, right?

Me: Yes, yes.

me: That’s who Disney caters to. You knew that going in.

Me: <sighs> That wasn't always the case, though. You can still tell by how different something like Fantasia is from Peter Pan, or how Swiss Family Robinson is different from The Island at the Top of the World.

me: Well, tastes change over time. Studios can't survive by doing the same thing forever - even if what they're doing is artistically valid.

Me: Obviously. It's just tougher to get through some era's than others. The creativity seems to ebb and flow like crazy. It's hard to keep a continuous line of criticism going when things are all over the place.

me: Don’t forget the nostalgia.

Me: <rubbing head in hands> Christ, I know. It’s just … it’s different, now.

me: Yes ... yes, it is. Like they say, the memory cheats.

Me: Who … who says that?

me: Who said that. It’s not important.

Me: <shrugs>


…


me: <sighs> Is anyone going to take our order?

Me: I haven’t even seen anyone since we got our drinks. I’m starving.

me: Looks like you’re going to need more Chianti soon.

Me: Not to mention breadsticks. I’ll … we’ll give them a few more minutes.

me: Fine …


…


me: <whispering> You know … it’s just a cartoon.

Me: Now that’s not fair. I mean, yes, but … but that’s what I do.

me: Yeah, but … does it matter?

Me: “Does it matter?” Well, I don’t know. Does anything?

me: Of course it does.

Me: And … and sometimes it’s just easier to ignore the bad things when everything else is good …

me: Okay …

Me: I'd always enjoyed Lady and The Tramp before - even with the stupid dated "herro kitty" routine. But now it's … I don’t know. I’m sorry.

me: You have nothing to apologize for …

Me: But I feel like I do.

me: Why?

Me: I’m a … well, not apologize, but … I feel like I should …

me: … what?

Me: I’m not sure … be ashamed?

me: Ashamed?

Me: Or something ... guilty! That’s it! I feel guilty.

me: For what?

Me: For … well, it’s … it’s hard to say …

me: Take your time ...

Me: I guess ... I guess I feel like I should point things out because I feel guilty. I don't know why, I just do.

me: <sighs>

Me: Besides ... there’s a … a precedent now.

me: “A precedent?”

Me: Yes.

me: How so?

Me: Well … it’s not like I can ignore what I've said before.

me: Go on …

Me: I very well can’t chide something one week and then ignore the same problem thereafter.

me: Well … why not?

Me: “Why not?” Are you suggesting I change my methods?

me: Well … no, nothing like that. But you can’t go on like this.

Me: <sighs> I know. But even ignoring the cats, and the bad Italian, and the myriad of other horrendous accents, it's not like this is a great love story.

me: It's a '50s cartoon movie about talking dogs. Were you expecting Blue Valentine?

Me: No, of course not. I wasn't even expecting All That Heaven Allows. It's just that when your central story gets overshadowed by pantomime Fu Manchu cats or barbershop dog-howling, you've got problems.

me: Can't argue with that.

Me: <shakes head> It's ... this was the first time I've watched this movie and could honestly care less about what was going on. I got -zero- entertainment value, absolutely no pleasure while watching.

me: Wow.

Me: <nods> I wasn't expecting that. I feel like I'm subconsciously rebelling against the status quo.

me: Mm-hmm ...

Me: Like you said, tastes change. I don't know ... when I get more pleasure from watching Jonathan Winters make an ass of himself in some shit TV special than I do watching a certified classic ... maybe the problem's with me?

me: It's tricky.

Me: <nods> It's not the first time I've called out something beloved a piece of crap - and it won't be the last.

me: So is that what you think of this one?

Me: ... yes.

me: You're prepared to go on record and admit that you vehemently disagree with the majority of your intended readership?

Me: I am, and I will always be. Lady and The Tramp smells like wet dog. There, I said it.

me: You'll be called a bad fan. You'll get derisive comments.

Me: <shrugs> Well ... I have to be honest. What else can I do?


…


Me: You know, this is ridiculous. No one's been to our table. I’m going back there to find out what the hell’s going on.

me: Alright.

Me: <gets up and walks out>


…


me:  . . . .


…


Me: <returns> Holy shit!

me: What? What’s going on?

Me: They … they’re serving dogs!

me: Wh … what do you mean? They’re cooking dogs!?

Me: No, no! They’re serving them dinner!

me: ?

Me: They’ve dropped everything, set up a little table in the back alley, and they're serving spaghetti and meatballs to a pair of strays.

me: … what?

Me: Joe and the owner are singing to them. Like it’s a goddamned date night for dogs out there!

me: You’re kidding! With all these hungry diners in here!?

Me: I know! This is ridic … wait, where are the others?

me: Don’t know. Let’s just go and eat somewhere else.

Me: <sighs> I guess you’re right. I can’t stomach this place anymore.

me: There’s a place nearby serving Siamese food.

Me: It’s Thai - you mean Thai food.

me: <sighs> If you want. Come on. <exits>

Me: <hesitates at the door> It’s just … I keep coming back here … it’s where I am … I can’t seem to leave … I’ll probably just stay here …

Escape To Witch Mountain

1975 Was a diverse year for Walt Disney Productions. The theme park division started the year by declaring it had completed “phase 1” of Walt Disney World with the opening of Space Mountain, and was preparing to go whole-hog into making a go of Walt’s E.P.C.O.T. project. Meanwhile, the film studio continued to disseminate a slow-but-steady stream of releases which fit comfortably within it's family-friendly ethos, including a pair of wacky comedies in February (the Kurt Russell-starring The Strongest Man in the World) and July (The Apple Dumpling Gang, with Don Knotts and Tim Conway.) Between these two releases (on March 21, to be exact,) the studio premiered a somewhat more serious feature, Escape to Witch Mountain. Based on the 1968 science-fiction novel by Alexander H. Key, the film could, in retrospect, be seen as something of a harbinger of the somber turn Disney’s film slate would take at the close of the decade. But it's confused tone and disappointing lack of suspense points at a film studio that's not quite ready to shake it’s past just yet.

But I be done seen 'bout everything when I see a Winnebago fly...

The film tells the story of siblings Tony and Tia (Ike Eisenmann and Kim Richards, respectively,) foster children who possess psychic and telekinetic powers. Soon after arriving at a new orphanage following the deaths of their adoptive parents, they come to the attention of Lucas Deranian (Donald Pleasence, always at his best when playing creeps,) henchman for villainous billionaire Aristotle Bolt (Ray Milland.) Bolt, who’s obsessed with the occult (just like Hitler in Raiders of the Lost Ark … sorry, that’s neither here nor there,) has Deranian pose as a long-lost relative in order to adopt the children into his luxurious household. There the siblings are gifted their own enormous bedrooms, over-stuffed with toys and other luxuries - and discretely monitored by surveillance equipment. After realizing that Bolt plans to utilize their powers for his own nefarious ends, Tony and Tia make their escape. Following a hidden map they discover inscribed on Tia’s treasured “star case” (and clues provided by her earliest, fragmented memories,) the pair head for the mysterious Witch Mountain while avoiding Deranian and his goons. Along the way, they are helped by Winnebago-driving retiree Jason O’Day (Green Acres’ Eddie Albert) who comes to feel protective of the siblings, having never raised children of his own. But what is the truth behind Tony and Tia’s mysterious origins, and what fate awaits them when they finally make it to Witch Mountain?

Spoilers: they’re aliens.

Because aliens...

Yes, it’s a “twist” that you pretty much see coming from a mile away and, like many other “revelations” in the film, is tossed out almost arbitrarily in the middle of a random conversation. Escape to Witch Mountain seems to have been written expressly for creating expectations and then deflating them. Less than six minutes into the movie, the kids are already brazenly using their telekinetic powers to dispatch a bully at the orphanage (played by gingernut Dermott Downs,) squandering any attempt to mystify the characters in any meaningful way.

Talk to the glove...

Likewise, the film’s opening titles - a brilliantly realized montage of the kid’s silhouettes fleeing animated attack dogs (copied from 1942's Bambi, FYI) - promises dangerous chases and tense drama. Apprehension builds early in the film, as Tia and Tony receive psychic impressions of vicious dogs barking; they know they’ll soon encounter these beasts, and will have to run for their lives. However, when the ballyhooed chase scene finally arrives (as the children take flight from Bolt’s estate,) Tia uses her powers to calm the angry dogs before sicking them on their human pursuers - and that’s it! The whole encounter is over in less than a minute!

This looks like a Dio album cover to me...

Even the film’s title works toward this goal. Besides the fact that we never hear the name of the titular mountain until over an hour into the film, one assumes that the children’s abilities will cause them to be branded as witches. And while this does happen, it’s not until the film is nearly over - and this accusation comes, incredibly, not from the kids at the orphanage who witness their powers, but from a group of spooked rednecks who hear of their powers second-hand.

All my rowdy friends are comin' over tonight!

Now, subversion of expectations in fiction isn’t itself a problem; on the contrary, thwarting audience’s preconceptions prevents artistic stagnation and fosters creativity (and the resulting viewer indignation - aka fanboys shitting themselves - can be quite amusing to witness <ahem Last Jedi ahem> ... but I digress.) However, the resulting narrative needs to be strong enough to support such subversion, and unfortunately this isn’t the case in Escape to Witch Mountain. As it stands, the resulting story hinges on (a) the mystery surrounding Tia’s fragmented memories and (b) the relationship between the children and Jason O’Day. The unraveling of Tia’s memory, unfortunately, comes completely at random, without any impetus within the narrative. As they go about their adventure, Tia seems to be on a pre-set schedule to remember a little more every ten minutes or so, whether they’re on the run or sitting and eating breakfast. When she finally gets around to the “big reveal” about their interstellar origins, it comes across more like someone remembering the lines to a school play they were once in, rather than a life-changing moment of clarity.

Not-so-total recall...

Additionally, the storyline about Tia and Tony bonding with Eddie Albert’s curmudgeon widower is never allowed time to develop properly. This is a shame, since neither the children nor Albert as actors are at fault; both Eisenmann and Richards are quite good, and this kind of “big-hearted grump” is right up Albert’s alley. In this case it’s purely a scripting problem, as the O’Day character isn’t introduced until halfway through the film - and it’s nearly another ten minutes until he discovers the young stowaways hiding in his Winnebago. The film’s pacing quickly suffers, since the story suddenly pivots into another kind of film and has to start itself over to accommodate another main character. What’s really needed is a bit of story re-arrangement, paired with judicious cross-cutting to show us Albert’s character before the children encounter him. As it is, the film instead overloads it’s second half with incident, with each plotline (the children’s origin, the pursuit by Bolt and Deranian, and the bonding with O’Day to name the major ones) given short shrift by the time the climax rolls around.

Kids! I can see the "Now Entering Hooterville" sign!

This actually points to another issue I have with Escape to Witch Mountain: it’s uncertain tone. The filmmakers never seem to be able to decide exactly what kind of a film they’re trying to make (a complaint I’ve previously lodged against 1993’s A Far Off Place.) From the beginning, Tony and Tia’s powers are portrayed as somewhat more uncanny than wondrous, with the slightest undercurrent of threat to their telekinesis. Admittedly, this may be more an issue with the direction than the script itself, as requiring Tony to play a harmonica to focus his powers certainly undercuts any sort of menace. Director John Hough, who’d directed a handful of Hammer horror films (and would be better suited directing The Watcher in the Woods for Disney five years later,) seems ready to instill an undercurrent of gothic horror to the proceedings despite the script’s push toward family comedy. This tightrope walk between whimsy and creepiness is most clearly visible during a scene in which, under the hidden-camera leer of Bolt, Tony brings a playroom full of marionettes to life in order to cheer up his sister. Despite Tia laughing and dancing along (all while Richards deftly avoids a number of just-visible fishing lines,) one senses a slight uneasiness, with lingering close-ups of the dead-eyed puppets clashing with the light-hearted music playing against it. By the end of the film, one almost senses Hough expressing himself through the villains who, after enduring a “wacky chase” scene involving helicopters turning upside-down and O’Day’s Winnebago taking flight, wave off the whole affair with a dismissive “Bah!”

Look out! Wacky fun! A-hyuk hyuk hyuk!! Oh, fun!

Escape to Witch Mountain exists in an odd sort of limbo within Disney’s live-action canon, simultaneously treasured and written-off. The film spawned two sequels: the Hough-directed Return From Witch Mountain (1978) and 1982’s made-for-TV Beyond Witch Mountain, as well as two remakes (a 1995 TV movie and 2009’s Race To Witch Mountain, which replaced weathered old Eddie Albert with modern day Adonis Dwayne Johnson,) and was one of a handful of live-action features that were granted high-profile video releases through the ‘80s and ‘90s. However, like most of Disney’s non-animated output that isn't Mary Poppins, the film seems to have been swept under the rug in recent years. I wouldn't say this is a bad film, but like many other productions Disney put out around this time, it could’ve been better. The ideas for a more memorable film - whether it would've ended up as a suspenseful gothic spine-tingler or a warm family-friendly comedy - are all here; but in 1975 Disney was still a studio dealing with it’s past and uncertain about it’s future. Walt Disney had been dead only nine years, and the film studio (headed by Walt’s son-in-law, Ron Miller) still wasn’t ready to go too far out of it’s warm and fuzzy comfort zone just yet. While Escape to Witch Mountain feels like a precursor to the studio’s “dark turn” in the early 1980s, the tension between Disney’s legacy and what it would eventually become unfortunately end up nearly tearing this film apart.

The Littlest Outlaw

In the long history of the Walt Disney Company, 1955 will forever be known as the year that Disneyland threw open it’s gates to an unsuspecting public. However, the studio also released a handful of well-remembered films that year. Among these are animated classic Lady and The Tramp, the first of their edited-from-television Davy Crockett features, respected "True-Life Adventure" The African Lion - and, three days before Christmas, The Littlest Outlaw. A forgotten little film following the exploits of a young Mexican boy and his fugitive horse, the film is a surprisingly well-made piece of cinema that still holds up today - with a few caveats ...

The film tells the story of a boy named Pablito (played by first-time actor Andrés Velázquez,) the son of a horse trainer named Chato (Rodolfo Acosta) who works for the respected General Torres (the great Pedro Armendáriz.) After betting money he doesn’t have on the general’s newest horse, Conquistador, in a show jumping competition, Chato resorts to cruel training techniques in order to force the poor creature into jumping taller and taller obstacles. This soon backfires, however, causing Conquistador to become afraid of jumping. When the horse’s fear causes an accident involving the general’s equestrian-loving daughter, Celita (Laila Maley,) the general orders the animal killed. Pablito, who knows the truth but fears further violence against himself and Conquistador at Chato’s hand, runs away with the horse. The pair of fugitives take flight across Mexico, running into banditos with hearts of gold (Gilberto González and José Torvay) and a kindly priest (Joseph Calleia) while evading both the general’s troops and a vengeful and desperate Chato.

I can't talk, señor - I'm a little horse today.

Unusually for a Walt Disney Productions film, The Littlest Outlaw was a Mexican-American co-production. Directed by prolific Mexican filmmaker Roberto Gavaldón, the film features an entirely bilingual cast. This led to the convenient practice of shooting each scene twice - once in English, once in Spanish - so that the film needed no re-dubbing for release in Spanish-speaking countries. The film was also shot entirely on location south of the border, lending the film a dusty authenticity that couldn’t be achieved filming in the California desert (or on a Burbank soundstage.) This also affords Gavaldón and cinematographer Alex Phillips the opportunity to shoot many evocative scenes of Pabilto and his horse making their way through desert vistas, including a number of well-thought out day-for-night shots. Of particular note is a group of shots early into the pair’s journey, in which the boy and the horse are carefully framed with a sun-bleached cross atop a hill as they stare out upon the looming desert ahead of them.

He's got shoes and a coat - why no service?

I really must applaud the young Andrés Velázquez, who brings effortless believability to the mistreated Pablito. Starting off as a cheerful (but not precocious) child, the reality of his father’s cruelty dawns upon him following Chato’s treatment of Conquistador. There is a noteworthy moment early in the film, where Pablito lies on his sleeping mat in the darkened servant’s quarters, quietly crying his eyes out. One immediately gets the heartbreaking sense of the child’s world being turned upside down, the realization of his own situation dawning on him only now. His decisive flight from the general’s estate and increasingly courageous actions through his journey stem logically from this awakening, and therefore feel natural as the film unfolds.

Pablito trains Conquistador to gallop when he whistles...

The rest of the cast is quite good as well. Pedro Armendáriz, playing General Torres, may be familiar to audiences today from his role as Kerim Bey in the 1963 James Bond film From Russia With Love (which was his last role before escaping terminal cancer with a self-inflicted gunshot to the chest.) By the time of The Littlest Outlaw, the actor already had a distinguished career spanning 20 years in Mexican, American and Italian cinema (and even had a pair of French films under his belt.) Even at the general’s most blustering, every line Armendáriz delivers is portrayed with such heart and spirit that one never feels any antagonism toward the big lug. Likewise, well-known Malta-born actor Joseph Calleia turns in a warm and sincere performance as the kind padre who helps Pablito and Conquistador during the latter part of the film. Famously remembered for his role as Pete Menzies, partner of Orson Welles’ iconic Hank Quinlan in 1958’s Touch of Evil, Calleia’s career on stage, screen and radio spanned an impressive 45 years.

Yes, Pablito, one day you may be blessed with a magnificent moustache, too...

While watching The Littlest Outlaw, I must say I was pretty impressed with the film as it went along. Besides the deft direction and strong acting, the screenplay - expanded by Bill Walsh from a story pitched by studio veteran Larry Lansburgh (who’d been a director of shorts at the studio for a decade) - is vibrant and well-structured. Unfortunately my opinion began to sour toward the end of the film.

While there is some mild animal cruelty early in the film establishing Conquistador’s suffering at the hands of the inhumane Chato (that one hopes, given the age of the film, is entirely faked,) the film is otherwise a gentle and lightly exciting tale that would be potentially great viewing for families with not-too-young children. However, once it became clear that all signs were pointing toward a climax set inside a bullfighting ring, my heart began to sink. Now, I don’t really want to get myself drawn into a discussion about cultural insensitivity or the place that bullfighting plays in Latin American tradition (otherwise we’ll be here all day - as readers of my Dumbo post will understand) - nor about the ritualistic particulars of the “sport” itself. Currently banned in many (but by no means all) countries, bullfighting remains one of the touchstones of Spanish and Latin American culture. It’s also one that springs to the gringo mind as a representative image of Latin culture ... much like wide sombrero-clad Frito banditos, Taco Bell-loving chihuahuas or the Dos Equis guy. That’s sarcasm, por supuesto.

For your viewing pleasure: a velvet bullfighting painting. Classy AF.

Though the appearance of a traditionally-garbed matador and his entourage of toreros could potentially be seen as troubling in a film that had, up to this point, largely avoided stereotypical portrayals of Mexican culture, the bigger issue that I had was having to watch the actual bullfight. Most likely a real bullfight that the film crew shot and edited, travelogue-like, into the movie, perhaps in 1955 the whole thing was thought of as local color thrown into the film - or maybe even an honest display of a proud Latin tradition. I realize that the case can be made for excusing the bullfight's inclusion by taking the time period in context, which is usually something I support when evaluating older works of art. However, watching the film now, the public display - in which bulls are taunted, stabbed with lances and barbed spears and more often than not killed in the ring (at least in the traditional Spanish style) - is not something that personally sat well with me. Call it a gut reaction, but in this case my sense of distaste overrode objectivity.

Can't sleep - too much bullshit...

While the film thankfully cuts away before the worst of the bull’s treatment is shown, we are shown one of the matadors getting bloodlessly clipped by the bull’s horn (in an uncommented upon moment of shock) before the picador stabs a pair of lances into the back of the poor creature’s neck. As the climax played out during and immediately after these displays, I found myself caring less and less about Pablito and Conquistador’s leap to freedom to escape the bullfighting ring. As the film rapidly drew to it’s predictable (though earned) happy ending, I just couldn’t get the slight sense of nausea out of my mind.

This horse is my horse - of course, of course...

The Littlest Outlaw, for most of it’s running time, is a delightful film with a number of positives going for it. However, much like last week’s Westward Ho the Wagons! (with it’s troubling, if typical, portrayal of American Indians,) there is a strongly dated element that prevents me from giving the film a recommendation - as family viewing or otherwise. This is unfortunate, as compared to that bland western, this movie is actually a well-crafted, thoughtfully-scripted and admirably directed piece of cinema. Though your own tolerance for images of animal cruelty may vary from mine, for me the whole troubling display tainted the rest of the film, a superior production when taking all other factors into consideration. For this reason alone, I have to say that I haven’t been so disappointed with a Walt Disney production ever before.