The Straight Story

One of the most surprising moments in Disney’s live-action canon comes from a gentle, G-rated film about an old man traveling across the American Midwest on a riding mower. The two credits which open the film, fading in and out of the screen in succession, state the following:

Walt Disney Pictures presents

A Film by David Lynch

WHAT!?! David Lynch did a Disney movie!? Am I dreaming or something!? But it’s true - there exists a family-friendly film released by Disney, made by the man who brought dancing, backwards-talking dwarfs to primetime television and provided Dennis Hopper with the immortal exclamation “Heineken!? Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!!!” While Lynch’s film was an independent production that wasn't filmed under Walt Disney Pictures’ supervision, it was still picked up for worldwide distribution by the “house of mouse” following a well-received showing at the 1999 Cannes Film Festival. Let’s take a look, then, at one of the oddest but most poetic films in Disney’s film library, 1999’s The Straight Story.

The Lawnmower Man

Lynch, the infamous filmmaker behind such disturbingly surreal masterworks as Eraserhead (1977), Blue Velvet (1986) and Mulholland Dr. (2001), seems like the least likely name one would expect to pop up in a film fronted by Walt Disney Pictures' castle logo. The director’s own brief, calamitous dalliance with mainstream Hollywood is well-documented: after turning down an offer to direct 1983’s Return of the Jedi (J.W. Rinzler’s 2013 book The Making of Return of the Jedi features a humorous recollection of Lynch’s, in which he developed a massive headache whilst Star Wars creator George Lucas tried describing Ewoks to him during the initial pitch,) Lynch took on the unenviable task of adapting Frank Herbert’s 1965 sci-fi tome Dune into a big-budget genre picture for Italian producer Dino De Laurentiis. Lynch’s idiosyncratic and independent style immediately clashed with De Laurentiis, who wanted a more straightforward space adventure film that could potentially launch a successful franchise. The resulting 1984 film was a confusing mishmash of styles, like an expensive art-house production over-stuffed with weird special effects and wrung through one too many test-audiences.

Definitely not Twin Peaks...

The strangeness of The Straight Story within Lynch’s own filmography (insomuch that it’s the only one that’s not strange) lies somewhat in it’s genesis. The film is based on the true story of then 73-year old Alvin Straight who, his eyes and legs too impaired to keep his driver’s license, traveled 240 miles on a riding lawnmower in 1994 to visit his estranged brother (who’d recently suffered a stroke.) Film editor and producer Mary Sweeney, Lynch’s collaborator since Blue Velvet (and who would later go on to marry him, from May to July(!) of 2006,) was immediately attracted to the story of the stubbornly independent individual. After Steel Magnolias producer Ray Stark (who’d pictured the story as a vehicle for Paul Newman) lost the filming rights in 1998, Sweeney promptly picked them up. Recruiting friend and collaborator John Roach, she adapted Straight’s story into her first screenplay. Lynch, fresh off the lukewarm reception of his beguiling 1997 neo-noir Lost Highway, was given the script in hopes that he would share notes or suggestions with Sweeney. Instead, he was so taken with the story that he decided to direct the film himself - making The Straight Story the first (and so far only) movie that he had no part in writing.

Obviously Lynch recognized something special in the story of one man’s extremely slow journey across miles and miles of rural US farmland. Though not a flashy or particularly exciting story, Lynch threw himself wholeheartedly into this ode to the Midwest with a sort of relaxed assuredness that shows in the finished film.

A kind of languidly-paced road picture, everything in The Straight Story is done with the utmost care and attention to artistic detail. Citing the film as his “most experimental movie,” Lynch opted to shoot the film along the actual route taken by Straight, and to do so in chronological narrative order. As a result, the entire production feels as if it grows into itself as the film rolls on, the deliberate pacing making viewers feel as if they’ve joined the wizened character on his unique trip. This pacing never feels unnecessarily drawn-out, however, as viewers are treated to Straight’s impressions of the various locations he putters by, rather than being presented with some kind of idealized travelogue. Lynch and Sweeney allow not only each scene, but each moment to play out naturally and unrushed. A wonderful example of this comes in a scene where Alvin, having set up camp by the side of the road one night, is joined by a young, pregnant hitchhiker (played by Anastasia Webb.) The initially awkward, near silent dialogue between the two plays out as one imagines a conversation between a bitter young runaway and a stubborn old man would, each opening up about their lives a little after sizing the other up for a while.

Keep your eye on the doughnut, not on the hole...

Much of the reason the film works as well as it does is due to it’s unique ensemble of actors. Most obviously (and importantly,) the casting of veteran actor and former stuntman Richard Farnsworth as Alvin was immensely inspired. While well-known names such as James Coburn, John Hurt and Gregory Peck were tossed around, it seems that the lesser-known Farnsworth was always the filmmakers’ top choice for the role. Initially reluctant to take on the part (he had to be reassured the film was free of the foul language and “depravity” of Lynch’s prior works,) the 79-year old actor accepted the role out of admiration for the real Alvin Straight. Afflicted with terminal metastatic prostate cancer that had spread to his bones, Farnsworth suffered from paralysis of the legs, leading him (and his character) to walk with the aid of two canes. Years of experience, paired with physical pain and the full awareness of his own mortality, lends Farnsworth’s portrayal an authenticity not seen even in veteran “marquee” actors. Every line of dialogue sings with sincerity, and every action (from forming a wide smile during a rainstorm to shakily mounting his riding mower) is deeply felt. Lynch shoots Farnsworth with a painter’s eye, finding fascination in the way the sunlight plays across the well-worn features of his seasoned lead actor’s face.

Spacek doesn't wish to discuss the shower scene from Carrie again...

Besides Farnsworth, the rest of the cast shines in a number of more limited roles. Chief among them is Sissy Spacek, playing Alvin’s mentally-challenged adult daughter, Rose. A difficult role that could’ve been abused as an Oscar-baiting, method-acting showcase (or, in a different kind of film, insensitively played for cheap laughs,) Spacek - like Farnsworth - imbues her character with a quiet dignity, her expressive eyes betraying a deep well of emotion that’s absent from her more expository dialogue. Also of note is the late (and dearly missed) Harry Dean Stanton, who puts in a very brief appearance as Alvin’s brother, Lyle, at the film’s conclusion. Though only onscreen for a few minutes, Stanton carries the heavy emotional lifting of the two characters’ reunion, his deeply-lined face flushed with years of regret upon realizing that his brother drove hundreds of miles on a piece of lawn-care equipment to see him.

How's about a cup of Good Mornin' America?

Technically The Straight Story doesn’t feel out of place in Lynch’s filmography, thanks to the presence of many of his frequent collaborators. Cinematographer Freddie Francis, who’d worked on The Elephant Man (1980) and Dune, shoots the wind-blown cornfields of Iowa and Wisconsin with a kind of unshowy grandeur. Composer Angelo Badalamenti (who turned cool jazz sinister on Twin Peaks) tries his hand at a twangy, folksy score punctuated by his trademark lush string arrangements. Like the film itself, the music is simple but poetic, complimenting the onscreen action rather than distracting from it. Leaving the heavier emotional themes to play during otherwise silent shots of characters staring wistfully into the distance, Badalamenti’s  music sometimes brought Lynch to tears during the editing of the film. Also of note (as it is in all of Lynch’s productions) is the film’s fantastic sound design. From the insect hum accentuated winds that pervade the fields of grain, to the startlingly aggressive sounds of thunderstorms and behemoth big-rigs that blast down the highway, the aural world created by Lynch (who’s been his own sound designer since 1992’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me) is truly immersive.

Tweedledee and Tweedledum are here to fix your mower!

While it’s easy to see this G-rated film as an outlier in Lynch’s body of work, there are still several moments that point at his absurd sense of humor. At one point on his journey Alvin encounters a desperately upset woman (played by Barbara E. Robertson) who’s accidentally hit and killed a deer - and apparently has done so every single week along this particular stretch of road (that she has to take as part of her 40-mile commute.) After she drives off in an exasperated huff, Alvin decides to pull the deer off the road and cut it up for food, since he's running low on his supply of braunschweiger. He’s shown later cooking up deer meat on an open fire, glancing nervously over his shoulder as a number of obviously-on-purpose fake deer watch from nearby, accusingly. In another scene, while traveling down a steep hill, the brakes on Alvin’s mower go out. The terror is palpable as the elderly man attempts to steer his out-of-control machine to a safe stop without killing himself, the camera rapidly shifting perspectives and speeds while the sounds of the road and roaring mower raise to incredible, almost jet-engine-like intensity.

Sadly Bambi's fate mirrors that of his mother ...

What remains somewhat unique in the famed filmmaker’s oeuvre is the development of Alvin’s character over the course of the film. The stubbornly stoic Straight doesn’t necessarily change much during the film, beyond letting go of his pride in order to make amends with his brother - though Farnsworth’s performance certainly reveals moments of long-forgotten wonder as Alvin encounters new people and places along his journey. However, the further he goes along his way, the more Alvin opens up to those he meets - and the audience slowly forms a full picture of him. Perhaps initially seen as a stubborn old coot, by the time Alvin reaches his final destination we are aware of the guarded history behind his tired eyes. Alvin is transformed into a fully-formed, deeply flawed human being, haunted by past demons but wiser for accepting them. This is perhaps the biggest clue that this wasn’t a film penned by Lynch, who’s not a believer in the idea of a “character arc” - instead seeing his characters as a part of a wider artistic vision (or, at the most basic level, as interesting patterns of light and shadow burned into his film stock.)

Burns bright forever. No more blue tomorrows.

The Straight Story was released to select theaters in October of 1999, and apparently few flocked to see it. Already a tightly budgeted film made for a bit less than $10 million, the limited-release film made back $6.2 million in North America, and it’s gross in the rest of the world was apparently so small that it counts for less than 1% of it’s total earnings. This meager take, while not unusual for an independently-produced film, means that the it's never been one that Disney had anything to do with after it’s theatrical run and follow-up DVD release (my own current copy is a Japanese-produced Blu-ray, since Disney doesn’t have any interest in producing an HD upgrade.) This is unfortunate, since this is unquestionably a great film. While neither the best film associated with Disney (though I’d easily put in within the top ten) nor Lynch’s greatest work, this is still a film that deserves to be seen and appreciated. Luckily, Lynch is a well-enough known artist with a rather large following, so the film is in little danger of disappearing into obscurity anytime soon.

A symbol of my individuality.

While the film may’ve been seen as a financial disappointment at Disney, it was an immediate hit amongst critics. As noted above, it was rapturously received at Cannes, receiving a standing ovation and a nomination for the festival’s Palme d’Or award (which it lost to Jean-Pierre & Luc Dardenne’s Rosetta.) Along with the film’s numerous nominations and wins at smaller awards venues, Farnsworth was nominated for the Academy Award for Best actor - at 80 the oldest actor to receive the honor (until this past year, when 88-year old Christopher Plummer was nominated for Ridley Scott’s All The Money in the World.) Farnsworth lost to Kevin Spacey for his role in Sam Mendes’ American Beauty, interestingly the same (now disgraced) actor whom Plummer replaced in the aforementioned Scott film. Tragically, the following year the pain from his cancer grew too much for the actor to bear, and Farnsworth committed suicide at his ranch in New Mexico. He was interned at the Forest Lawn Memorial Park in the Hollywood Hills, next to his wife, Margaret, whom had passed 15 years prior.

Amongst the critics who heaped praise upon the film was famed reviewer Roger Ebert, who gave the film a “4 out of 4” rating (and a “Thumbs Up” on his Roger Ebert & The Movies program.) This is notable, since this was the very first positive review the well-known critic had ever given to a David Lynch-directed movie. He'd condemned his breakthrough film Blue Velvet with an infamous “1 out of 4” review, in which he stated “scenes of stark sexual despair … (are surrounded) with a story that’s marred by sophomoric satire and cheap shots.” Though Lynch’s reputation amongst the film industry’s so-called “critical establishment” had always been hit-or-miss, The Straight Story marked something of a late-career turning point. His following film, 2001’s Mulholland Dr., would go on to even greater critical and financial success, being named one of the new millennium's best films in a number of critical polls. Even Ebert gave it a “4 out of 4” rating in his contemporary review, stating that Lynch had "been working up toward Mulholland Dr. all of his career, and now that he’s arrived there I forgive him Wild at Heart and even Lost Highway."


Perhaps this was an important factor, if not the whole point, behind Lynch’s decision to make The Straight Story: to show the world (and his detractors) that he was, and always had been, a skilled filmmaker and highly expressive artist. In doing so, he proved that he could make great motion picture art without his trademark incomprehensible horrors or darkly phantasmagorical visuals. Sometimes even great artists need to pull back from their own artifice to show just what they’re capable of. For David Lynch, this “straight story” seemed to be just what was needed to make his Hollywood dreams come true.

And we, the audience, are like the dreamer.

The dreamer who dreams and lives inside the dream.

But who is the dreamer?

... now it's dark ...

" ... "

“Ha-llo, Gaston. I yam th’ Slepiing Baeyooty.”

" ... "

“Whare I yam from, all th’ burds singk wurds … and dere’s al-wayss myuzic loopss in th’ yair.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhh ...”

“Brake-kingk nyoows: that LaFou broo yoo lyke iss com-ink beck in sty-yul.”

“No one’s … as confused as Gaston.”

“Watch yout fer my cussin. She lukes ex-act-lee lyke Mary Pop-ins.”

“I’m actually planning to woo and marry Belle.”

“Eye feel lyke I no her … but som-thymes, eye fall assleeep. Iss-nit two dream-me?”

" ... "

“I yam ... fase carr-acterr …”

TOALLWHOCOMETOTHISHAPPYPLACEWELCOME

“Ehm … escusez moi?”

“Giff me-yall yoor Dowl Whiyp (pineapple and sorrow).”

“When I was a lad, I ate … uuughhghghgggg!”

-POP-

-SCHLUPP-

“Eee-lek-tri-call parr-raid.”

“High-ya toots. Let’z rock!”

"Wow, duk, wow."

Fastpass distribution has closed for the day ... judy ...

 

Dumbo

Well well - long time, no see.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the big top! Step right up, as today we feature a look at a beloved little film focusing on a precocious pachyderm with enormous ears! We direct your attention to the center ring, for a frank (and frankly rambling) discussion of 1941’s Dumbo!


I think that shit just kicked in, Timothy...

In 1939 Kay Kamen, the head of Walt Disney Productions’ merchandise licensing (and the man responsible for bringing the Mickey Mouse watch to the world in 1933,) showed Walt Disney a prototype of a toy called a Roll-A-Book. A simple storytelling device similar to a panorama, the toy contained a little story told in 8 drawings of a big-eared baby circus elephant named Dumbo. Taken more with the story than the Roll-A-Book, Walt purchased the rights to the tale, which was written by Helen Aberson and illustrator Harold Pearl. At the same time, riding high off the success of 1937’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the studio had put most of that film’s profits back into the productions of Pinocchio, Fantasia, and Bambi. These films were complex, costly projects that took the artistic lessons learned from their first feature and expanded upon them, creating some of the finest achievements in the art of filmed animation. However, the closure of European box offices following the outbreak of what would become World War II meant that Pinocchio and Fantasia, both released in 1940, would not make back their high production costs. To recoup some of these losses (and help get Bambi finished for it’s 1942 release,) it was decided to upgrade their planned Dumbo short into a full-length, budget-minded feature - and to have it finished and out before the end of 1941.

The only work Hyacinth Hippo could get after Fantasia bombed...

While certainly not poorly made, Dumbo’s hastened production does show in the finished film - especially when compared to its lavishly-assembled siblings. The overall animation has a simplified, almost flat appearance - a more “cartoony” look, if you will. This design choice applies to nearly all elements of the film. The character designs look like they came straight from one of the studio’s Mickey Mouse cartoon shorts, lacking the shaded look of Pinocchio or the drawn-from-life movements of Snow White and her evil Queen. Even the length of the film reflects its hurried nature, as Dumbo clocks in at a tidy 64 minutes - nearly an hour shorter than its immediate predecessor, Fantasia (though it loses the award for Disney’s shortest feature to 1942’s slight Saludos Amigos.)

Change my pitch up - smack my bitch up...

Perhaps to make up for (or distract from) Dumbo’s budgetary restrictions, the filmmakers seemingly doubled-down on high emotion to carry the film. Viewers are instantly sympathetic to the little elephant with the oversized ears (how can we not be!?! Look at those blue eyes! Those giant ears on the cute wittle baby! #Adorbz!), and our blood boils when the haughty elephant matriarchs insult Dumbo and his poor mother, the nearly mute Mrs. Jumbo (cue the lecherous principle from Forrest Gump: “Is there a Mr. Jumbo, Mrs. Jumbo?”) Proceeding scenes of Dumbo getting his bath and playing with his mother overload the film with a severe case of cuteness, striking a particularly poignant chord with those who’ve raised young children. Within minutes of screentime, Mrs. Jumbo is in a red-eyed furor as she spanks the living crap out of a human kid who’s bullied her little calf, causing a riot to break out under the big top. Before you can catch your breath, Dumbo is crying outside his mother’s “Mad Elephant” cage as the sob-inducing “Baby Mine” croons over the soundtrack with gentle assertiveness. Meanwhile, comedy is supplied by a bumbling stork (Disney mainstay Sterling Holloway again,) a pompous ringleader (Herman Bing,) wacky “woikin’-stiff” clowns and Dumbo’s wise-cracking Jiminy Cricket-substitute, Timothy Mouse (Edward Brophy) - who doesn’t show up until nearly halfway through.

I'm not real enough for you, Billy?

That Dumbo makes an unabashed play at emotion isn’t a bad thing in and of itself - the best art is arguably that which appeals to emotion as much as reason, if not more so. But this roller coaster of drama, swinging wildly from histrionic melodrama to wacky comedy, is built upon such a miniscule storyline that it barely holds up. So much intensity is packed into Dumbo’s short running time that there’s little time to breathe and register everything going on. No doubt this came as a result of the story’s limited “eight drawings” origin, and suggests that Disney’s artists weren’t afforded time to fill in the gaps of the story as much as they should have.

Oh the Feels!

I will give the filmmakers massive kudos, however, for the "Pink Elephants on Parade" sequence. Despite the scene being completely inconsequential to the rest of the story (or maybe because of it,) Dumbo’s drunken dream is an explosion of crazed creativity in the middle of an otherwise middling movie. A feverish nightmare of color, shape, and numerous forms of “technicolor pachyderms” floating across the screen (or, in one memorable moment, marching around the film-frame itself,) the whole bizarre bit seems like an outburst of pent-up inventiveness that wouldn’t be seen again until the climax of 1944’s The Three Caballeros (and wouldn’t manifest after that until the appearance of Aladdin’s Genie in 1992.) By far the greatest of Disney’s few truly “WTF” moments, this endlessly re-watchable segment makes even the most bored adult viewer take notice, and has been utilized many times over the years for TV clip-compilations and even theme park extravaganzas.

Nine, ten - never sleep again...

Before I close, I would be remiss if I didn’t attempt to tackle a brief discussion of the elephant in the room (no pun intended … well, maybe a little): the crows. Anthropomorphic animals that play an important part in the film’s resolution (it now strikes one as odd that the film’s main gimmick - an elephant flying - doesn’t occur until 10 minutes before the end,) that the group of blackbirds is portrayed as unambiguously African American has led to some (admittedly minor) controversy in the years following Dumbo’s release. In his famously inflammatory 1968 tome The Disney Version: The Life, Times, Art and Commerce of Walt Disney, author and film historian Richard Schickel argued that their portrayal was clearly an example of black stereotyping. For me, watching the film with an eye toward historical context, that conclusion doesn’t seem so clear-cut. Or maybe it does?

You were only waiting for this moment to arrive...

If you’ll permit me a bit of rambling: besides a multitude of personal issues and “life occurrences” since last October, one of the reasons this blog hasn’t had a new entry in over 4 months was due to my inability (or perhaps unwillingness) to grapple with this review. Astoundingly, trying to write about a little cartoon movie about a put-upon pachyderm seems to have opened some door in my mind; a door to a beguiling wrestling match between reason and emotion concerning the portrayal and treatment of race throughout Disney’s body of works. As longtime readers (you poor souls) have likely gleaned, I’m a Caucasian man with a fairly strong liberal inclination (recall the acquisition of my “white card” back in my Tarzan review - oh how clever,) which I point out basically as an excuse for my hesitation to discuss race in art. For some reason I feel that it simply isn’t my place to properly address, and - as the ghosts of many deleted and re-written examples of this very paragraph attest - I seem grossly ill-equipped to do so.

And yet, here I go.

While watching Dumbo for this review, I tried to think how one can frame the whole concept of prejudice in older movies. Personally, I’ve never gotten the impression that Disney (neither the man nor the collective group of artists who worked for him) were racists in the strictest sense. In the film, the group of crows are portrayed as independent, free-thinking characters who are sympathetic to Dumbo when few others are; they are sarcastic, to be sure, but nothing in their dialogue or performance come across as offensive at face-value; they lack, for example, any of the subservient “Stepin Fetchit”-like behavior one associates with stereotypical performances seen in film at the time. While most of the crows were voiced by African American performers (members of the popular Hall Johnson Choir,) the “lead” crow was, unfortunately, voiced by a white actor (Jiminy Cricket voice-actor Cliff Edwards) putting on a “black voice.” Though it was common for white actors to portray other ethnicities at the time, it’s still unfortunate (though at least we don’t have to see any actors “darked up” like we would’ve in a live-action production.) It should also be pointed out that Edwards’ character, while unnamed in the film, was internally referred to as “Jim Crow,” referencing either theater-actor Thomas Rice’s “blackface” character from the late 1800s, or the nickname for a number of southern post-civil war segregation laws that remained in place into the 20th century (or likely both, since one was nicknamed after the other.)

Desegregation at work...

Now, given the time period in which these filmmakers lived and worked, to me the naming of this character (and again, not an official character name outside the studio) comes off as a distasteful joke, rather than an intentional slur. Honestly, I think much of the work from Disney at this time (and lots of “golden age” Hollywood, really) can be labelled racially or culturally insensitive, rather than flat-out racist. But given that all art can be read and judged subjectively (regardless of any credence one puts toward artistic intention,) does this distinction matter? Could one objectively call something “racist” if there’s an honest lack of harmful intention? Should one cast Dumbo (or even, to take a more polarizing example, Song of the South) under the same umbrella as D.W. Griffith’s The Birth of a Nation - an important piece of cinematic history that is also intentionally and unquestionably racist? Perhaps not, but certainly one shouldn’t exonerate one intolerant work because it’s “less intolerant” than another. Besides, the absence of intent doesn’t negate effect; just because no harm was meant doesn’t mean no harm resulted.

Was I personally offended watching the crows cavort with Dumbo? Not offended, per se, though I admit to feeling a twinge of discomfort. But again, I’m a middle-aged white guy who's had a pretty easy go at life, so what does my opinion matter? Should it?

Then again, would the opinion of an African American viewer hold more water in this case - or to the very presence of truth in claims of prejudice in a work of art? This may seem to be an obvious (if grossly oversimplified) “yes,” but again the specter of subjectivity raises its head: how many African American individuals would it take to declare something “officially” racist? To use a pertinent example, in 2017 recently-appointed “Disney Legend” Whoopi Goldberg proclaimed that the crows from Dumbo were in fact not racist stereotypes; she instead believes Disney should represent the characters more through merchandise, “because those crows sing the song in Dumbo that everybody remembers” (referring to the "When I See an Elephant Fly" number - indeed the most memorable song from the film.) To use Ms. Goldberg’s opinion as the final word, however, would be falling back on the “proof by example” fallacy, wherein one uses one or a few anecdotal examples as proof of a generalized conclusion: "Look! There's a black person who's okay with it, so it must not be racist!"

This whole thing's giving me a headache...

Then there’s the relative question of time. Were the crows considered racist in 1941 - to African Americans, or anyone else? Heck, Schickel (a white male, by the way) was adequately offended enough in 1968 to declare them stereotypes. Does something seen initially as harmless become (or become recognized as) questionable, and finally offensive over time? This is feasibly true, as attitudes and tastes change almost as rapidly as the weather. Even the idea of racism itself can alter over time; hence Schickel found the Dumbo crows offensive in 1968, but it would be years before any popular dialogue opened up about the (arguably far more offensive) portrayal of “Injuns” in 1953’s Peter Pan. Hell, the jury still seems to be out on the Siamese cats in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp.

On a side-note: this seems to point to an interesting line of “stratified racism” (my term, since I can’t seem to find an “official” designation,) wherein prejudice against one ethnic group takes precedence over another, over time. In other words, the phenomenon of the portrayals of some groups being recognized as problematic before others. As an example: in 1989 Spike Lee’s magnificent Do The Right Thing was setting the cinema world afire with heated discussions of ongoing racial tension between whites and blacks in America - while on television, Caucasian actor Hank Azaria was cast to voice the Indian character Apu on The Simpsons. Largely uncommented on for years outside of the Indian-American community, this backward-looking example of “brown face” casting seems to have finally come into the public discourse several years after the fact, thanks to such commentators as comedian Hari Kondabolu in his 2017 documentary The Problem with Apu.

And in this specific case, the whole thing probably wouldn’t even have become a topic of discussion if Fox would've let the damn show die a dignified death 20 years ago … but I digress.

The recent influx of millennials re-evaluating cultural artifacts of the so-called ‘enlightened age’ of my own youth has led to such “revelations” as the character James Bond being sexist (uhm .... this is a surprise?) or TV’s Friends being insensitive to the LGBT community. Hell, when I was young it was seen as “revolutionary” simply to feature gay, bisexual or transgendered characters at all. That doesn’t take away from viewer’s impressions at this moment in time, however. And if we want to stay on the temporal train a bit longer, there are things that I find offensive today that I wouldn’t have when I was younger (and vice-versa.) As I alluded earlier, my most recent viewing of Dumbo left me a bit uneasy when watching the scenes with the crows, but when I was a kid I could honestly care less - even when I actually did recognize that the characters were being presented explicitly as African American.

So does the film’s insensitive handling of race alter my personal opinion of it? Not a whole lot, no. While the presence of prejudice or offensive material in art can sometimes put me off (I’m looking your way again, Parent Trap,) such is not always the case - as long as I recognize the piece as a work of art, and not an obvious piece of advertising or propaganda (though I guess those are more or less the same thing.) If it is in fact a work of art, as far as I’m able define it, I prefer to judge a work on its individual merits. Like anyone, of course, my own opinions sometimes fit hand-in-glove with whatever public kudos a work merits, sometimes not (Kurosawa’s Ran is a film held in high artistic regard, and it’s also one of my favorites – while Hitchcock’s classic Vertigo has always struck me as intensely overrated.) The same applies to art that’s held in high esteem for its importance to race relations - Lee’s previously-mentioned Do The Right Thing has recently become one of my favorite movies, while I struggled through Ellison’s tedious writing style in his seminal Invisible Man.

Regardless of all the disparate issues it brought about in this discussion, for me Dumbo is - as it always has been - a pretty unremarkable entry in Disney’s animated cannon. I know this is not a popular opinion, as the ongoing ubiquity of the character proves (which we’ll hopefully look at in a future “Theme Park Rundown.”) Not one of the movies I owned or watched often growing up, I was more familiar with “the little elephant with the big ears” through merchandising and the live-action Dumbo’s Circus program, which ran on The Disney Channel in the mid-’80s. Not Disney’s best effort at the time (but far from their worst,) Dumbo often feels like the rushed production it was. One can’t help but wonder how great a film could’ve been produced with a little more time and care. 

Enough talk. I need a bath...

Beauty And The Beast

Once upon a time, this blogger found it easy to write up brief and breezy reviews about the fantastic films of Disney, whether they be old favorites or new discoveries. As time passed, it became more difficult to find new and original things to say about some of the more popular movies that readers are already familiar with. When faced with a giant in the animated canon, it becomes that much more difficult to find a fresh approach in which to discuss it. One does not wish to repeat themselves and provide a laundry list of nitpicks (as was done with The Lion King,) nor a review that devolves into a gushing puff piece (Goofy Movie, I’m looking your way.)

Out of the blue, I was recently contacted by someone who was directly involved in the creation of one of Disney’s most beloved animated films - and who’s apparently a fan of this blog. I realized that here was an opportunity that could not be passed up: to discuss a modern classic with someone who actually lived the experience; to capture their thoughts on the sights, the sounds, and perhaps the magic of the creation of a milestone in motion picture history. I didn’t quite get that - but I got more ... a lot more.

What follows is a transcript of my interview with none other than Gaston, discussing his role in Disney’s legendary 1991 animated film, Beauty And The Beast.

No one takes a selfie like Gaston!

Started By A Condor: Well, good afternoon, Gaston - it's a real honor to be speaking with you today.

Gaston: Of course it is!

SBAC: Before we get under way, I wanted to clarify: should I call you Mr. Gaston? Or is Gaston your given name?

G: It’s … I’m Gaston!

SBAC: Okay then. So I hear that you’re a fan of Started By A Condor, is that right?

G: Well, yes! Gaston appreciates the work of a man with an obviously healthy ego. And you have lots of pictures to look at!

SBAC: Um, thanks, I suppose. So let’s get to it. How did Disney get in touch with you about their animated version of Beauty and the Beast?

G: Whoa, slow down blog man! First let me tell you about my great successes in making Belle my wife!

SBAC: Oh, so we’re jumping right into-

G: You know, beautiful women are automatically attracted to me — they just start kissing me. I’m like a magnet! No one gets smooched like Gaston!

SBAC: Uhm-

G: And when you’re a village star, they let you do it. You can do anything … like with Belle, I grabbed her by the book and woo’d her. You can do anything! She loved it!

No one admires a centerfold like Gaston!

SBAC: … I think we may be getting off topic. Should we talk about what it was like making a movie for Disney?

G: Disney, ha! They had me in that little movie they made, but they got it all wrong!

SBAC: Oh, they did? How-

G: When I finally saw their movie, I was barely in it! I was disgraced! Publicly rejected! I had so many more amazing songs about how great Gaston is - and they only used one! Why, when I was there, all the others-

SBAC: The other characters?

G: Quiet, you! All the others had sang songs about all the wonderful things Gaston can do! But none of them sang as well as me. No one belts out a ballad like Gaston! And then they went and changed everything that really happened!

SBAC: Really? Like what?

G: Pfft! “Like what?” Like everything! They made it out so Belle spurned my advances, when in fact she loved it! I drove her crazy! I had that little beauty eating out of the palm of my hand! Look at these mighty hands! Andreas referred to my hands-

SBAC: Andreas Deja, one of the lead character animators?

G: -to my hands as being on the small side, and that I had to wear big gloves in the film. But I guarantee you, blog man, there’s no problem - I guarantee. No one has bigger hands than Gaston!


No one shops for cookware like Gaston!

SBAC: Well, that’s … good to know-

G: My fingers are long, and beautiful - as are various other parts of my body!

SBAC: I really didn’t need to know-

G: Like I tell LeFou, I just have to tuck it in because of these tight pantaloons I wear-

SBAC: Whoa, okay! Let’s change topics! Why don’t we talk about your experiences actually making the movie?

G: Bah! Those mouse-men had some papers they called “a script” or something. But how could I read it? There were no pictures! Besides, they don’t write good. They have people over there, like Linda Woolverton and others, they don’t – they don’t write good. They don’t know how to write good.

SBAC: Um, well said?

G: After I saw what they wanted me to do, I had my own script written up!

SBAC: You did?

G: Of course! No one writes scripts like Gaston! <Hands over a wad of papers> I have it here - read it!

SBAC: Oh, may I? This is interesting, I never knew that you wrote your own … hmmm …

G: I can see you’re overcome with awe!

SBAC: Well … this is mostly drawings of you, from what I can tell. Did a 4-year old draw these for you?

G: Of course not - I did! No one draws like Gaston! I believe the Disney people call these “story boards.”

SBAC: Mmm, okay. Lots of drawings of you flexing your muscles-

G: No one flexes like Gaston!

SBAC: -and shooting animals with your bow and arrows-

G: No one hunts like Gaston!


No one double fist-bumps like Gaston!

SBAC: -and … well this is interesting. This looks like you and LeFou posing for what would later become the fountain that sits in the Magic Kingdom’s Fantasyland.


G: What? Let me see that! <Snatches the drawing and looks at it> Ah, this is actually one of LeFou’s drawings. Not sure how it got in here. He loves sketching me; posing with my trophies, wrestling, riding my horses with my shirt off...

SBAC: Ah, I see…

G: <Tosses the drawing back> Sometimes I envy dear LeFou - he gets the privilege of spending all his time with me; taking meals with me, bringing me more beer, getting me dressed each morning-

SBAC: He dresses you?

G: <Shakes his head> I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I know LeFou prefers the company of men - it’s fine with me.

SBAC: Oh really? I’m rather surprised that you’re OK with his sexuality.

G: <Waves a dismissive hand> Yes, yes, my fabulous friend happens to be gay - but I’m a traditionalist. It's not my thing. Many a weak-minded male finds himself helplessly drawn to me when in my presence. It can’t be helped. No one makes men go gay like Gaston!

SBAC: It … may be best to leave that alone for now. <Glances through some more drawings> This one appears to be the trio of young blonde women from the film, and ... what I’m assuming is supposed to be Belle. What are they doing?

G: Why, they are down on my bearskin rug, gazing up lustily as I down a hearty mug of ale! No one drinks and takes worship like Gaston!

SBAC: <Turns drawing sideways, then back> What’s wrong with their bodies?

G: Calm yourself, LeBlogger! Why, those beautiful girls are in the nude!

SBAC: Is this what you think women look like?

G: <Rolls eyes> Of course it is, you simple fool. I have a great respect for women! That’s why I offer them the chance to make their dreams come true! Beautiful women always have a tremendous time with me at my rustic hunting lodge!

SBAC: Really? What do they do there?

G: All things the women love! They massage my feet, cook big meals, clean my guns and trophies, wash the dogs … I have six or seven, you know?

SBAC: Women?

G: No, blogger - dogs.

No one mounts more animals than Gaston!

SBAC: <Sarcastically> And do these women do certain things for you in the bedroom, as well?

G: Well, yes - they pick up my laundry and tidy the bed sheets! What else!?

SBAC: Never mind. Do you find that many women talk to you?

G: Naturally! All of the women on the film set flirted with me, whether they realized it or not. That’s to be expected, of course!

SBAC: Sure. It seems as though Belle wasn’t particularly attracted to you-

G: Ah-haha! Belle simply played coy with me! She knows that no one plays games like Gaston, and made sport of it! She understands that as the only one as beautiful as I, she was destined to marry me and have six or seven strapping boys within a year!

SBAC: Within a year? How’s that possible?

G: Don’t ask me - I don’t know how the whole children thing works. That’s women's work!

No one flings steaming piles of woo like Gaston!

SBAC: Mmm. Why didn’t you ask out one of the blonde villagers? They seemed eager to spend time with you.

G: <Snickering> They’re sixes, at best! <Spits loudly> P'tooey!!

SBAC: Eew! You spit on me!

G: No one expectorates like Gaston!

SBAC: <Wiping spit off his pants> Jeez, how do you even know that word? Wait, didn’t you say earlier that Belle loved it when you grabbed her book? Now you’re saying she played hard to get?

G: Anything you’ve heard about Belle not falling in love with me is false news!

SBAC: “False news?”

G: Yes, false news spread by jealous, bad bonhommes! Very sad!

SBAC: Okay then.

G: <Furrows his brow> Hmmm … if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you feel superior to Gaston!

SBAC: No, not at all … I’m just trying to wrap my head around what you're-

G: <Suddenly rises from his chair and unsheathing a hunting knife> No one insults Gaston! It’s time to take some action! I won’t rest until the blogger’s dead! GOOD AND DEAD!

No one wields ornamental stone like Gaston!

SBAC: Hey, hey, wait a minute! Put that knife down, please!

G: Haha! What’s the matter, blogger!? Too kind and gentle to fight back!?

SBAC: I thought I was giving an interview!? What the hell are you doing?!

G: <Slashes threateningly with his knife> Did you honestly think she would read your blog, when she had someone like ME!?

SBAC: <Jumps behind his chair> What!? Who are you talking about? I was interviewing you for a blog!

G: <Laughs menacingly and leaps forward>

SBAC: <Falls backward, winded> D’ah! What are you doing!? What’s wrong with you!?!

G: <Kicks the chair aside> It’s over, blogger! <Forcibly presses his boot upon the blogger’s throat> BELLE IS MINE!!!

SBAC: <Hacks and gasps> You’re … hurting me … !

G: You were never a blogger! You were never even a man!!

SBAC: <Gurgles incomprehensibly>

G: <Pauses> Wait … what does that mean? Why are you saying that name!?

SBAC: <Coughs> Wh - what?

G: Why did you say Martha? Why did you say that name!? Why did you say Martha!?

SBAC: I didn’t! What the fuck are you talking about!?

Suddenly Belle runs in the room, her yellow hoopskirt swishing wildly.

Belle: It’s his mother’s name! It’s his mother’s name!

SBAC: Huh!?! No it’s not! My mom’s name is Donna!

G: <Straightening up> Belle! You're in such good shape! <Turns to the blogger> She's in such good physical shape. Beautiful! Wait ... are you in love with her, blogger!?!

SBAC: What’s going on here!? Dude, I’ve never seen this woman before in my life!

G: <Crouches menacingly over the blogger> Belle, tell the others to take whatever booty they can, but remember: the blogger is mine!

SBAC: <Giggles> Hehe … booty.

G: <Grabs the blogger by his ankle and drags him from the room> We’re not safe until the blogger’s head is mounted to my wall!

SBAC: What the hell!? Hey, come on! Belle, where are you!? I need help!

Belle: <Thumbs through the calendar on her iPhone> Hmm? Oh, sorry, can't - busy day ahead. I’ve got a photo-shoot for a new line of bath products in an hour, then I’ve got to appear before a princess-in-training to sing her a song about humility, then I’ve got to make it to Cinderella’s castle to induct a Latin American princess at three o’clock. Then back to Beast’s place to oversee the table set-up in the ballroom for tonight’s dinner service. <She then taps her brooch, which emits an electronic chirp> Merida, bring me up!

Belle then vanishes in a brief flash of sparkling pink light.

SBAC: <Shakes his head as he’s dragged out> I really need to get back to normal reviews ...