A Review of 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarves' (1937)
- Anand Nair
When Walt Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs won the New York Film
Critics Circle Award in 1937 (followed by an honorary Oscar) it announced a
milestone in motion picture animation. The immensely popular film also became
immensely influential, which is something that cannot be claimed for the
routinely praised animated films of our era such as The Lion King, Finding
Nemo and Wall-E.
Instead of compartmentalizing Disney’s signature animated features (the
three masterworks Fantasia, Pinocchio and Dumbo) as an
outmoded approach, Snow White And the Seven Dwarves (1937) brings back the
beginning of a classical style and the reason why it mattered. On the DVD
commentary, animator John Canemaker pays homage by comparing the film to Birth
of a Nation and then Citizen Kane “for staging ideas” (Canemaker
doesn’t say, but he surely means the presentation of Xanadu) and the
programming of musical numbers and fantasy in The Wizard of Oz.
More precisely, Snow White set the template for animating universal
fantasy, the western visionary heritage. This would even apply to such Japanese
animation as Miyazaki but Snow White shows the reason people rarely go back to
those films. Here is the foundation of how the modern world mentally
interpreted those old folktales. It isn’t simply that Disney dominated the
animation mainstream; his house-style of figuration and his formula for style
was a translation of the Brothers Grimm. (The Little Mermaid was a
bowdlerization of Hans Christian Andersen.)
Chief artist Hamilton Luske explained the rule: “Our [humans] uninteresting
progression from one situation to another must be skipped. We want to make
things more interesting than ordinary life. So the characters flow—dreamlike.
This works best with non-human figures—as in the dwarf caricatures, the evil
queen but especially the animals.” It’s the human Snow White who is so
chinless, neckless and amorphous that her “goodness” is off-putting. And the
Prince also moves like a zombie. This proves it’s not the Ideal that Disney
animation perfects but the opposite—the stylized vision.
Snow White triumphantly established the way film could visualize the
imagination—as when trees and frogs metamorphose into crocodiles, ghouls and
skeletons. Lavish details of nature, woodland creatures proceed from the animal
spiritual metaphors of Griffith’s silent era into ecstatic symbolism. Note the
bluebird singing to Snow White in the house cleaning sequence—a vision that
eventually influenced Happy Feet but was also distorted into ugly
absurdity in Disney’s own Enchantment. Obviously, these lessons need to
be relearned.
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