THE French socio political critic and philosopher Jean Baudrillard once at Disneyland exists in order for Americans to believe that what lies outside it is real. The animated features churned out by the world's most famous cartoon corporation work in a similar way. However, the lengths they go to peddle certain myths about nature and gender alerts the attentive viewer to the fact that there is something seriously rotten in old Uncle Walt's state.
From Snow White right up to the live action adaptation of 101 Dalmatians, the roles of males and females haven't altered one jot in the Disney dream machine. Heroines are still Barbie dolls who can't imagine life without their ideal man, while heroes are clean cut athletic Greek icons. Animal or human, the same aspiration of stereotypical manly and womanly perfection is appealed to. The whole thing is grounded in the most cliched conservative notion of what is natural.
Don't look for too much social or political conscience either. There is the odd grandiose humanitarian gesture, such as Aladdin throwing gold to the peasants. Invariably, though, the resolution to a Disney feature consists of a heterosexual couple retiring to home life to pursue their own quiet, peaceful and uncommitted view of their world. Thomas O'Malley filling in the masculine vacuum and restoring balance and harmony to an otherwise incomplete Duchess, the kittens and Madame (in The Aristocats). Tramp settling down to a sedentary existence as a respectable husband and father (in The Lady and the Tramp). The women all dutifully at their men's side.
The objective of the idyllic, hermetically sealed nuclear family or couple is set up and maintained time and time again. Wouldn't it be nice if just for once in Disney animation there was a generous depiction of a loving relationship that wasn't familial, heterosexual or purely platonic between the same sex? Unfortunately, homosexuality, political affiliations, men who aren't protectors and providers, aesthetes, and ambitious independent minded women are all seen as evil. In the Disney scheme of things they are unnatural, and are, therefore, either excluded entirely or grotesquely caricatured.
Hence the figure of Cruella De Vil in the live action version of 101 Dalmatians. With four years to go to the second millennium, Walt Disney entertainments can still only portray a successful business woman with power as a man hating, psychopathic megalomnnine. As with the socially empowered wicked stepmother queen in Snow White more than 50 years earlier, this "Cruel Devil" is also a witch of sorts, consumed by insane jealousy and cupidity. Nothing has changed. At least not for the better.
A comparison between the 1996 Dalmatians and its vastly superior predecessor is alarming. In the latter, Cruella is an unattached, decadent aristocrat - a touch European. Definitely un American. In keeping with good old Disney down to earthness, her artistic nature is neurotic and condemned by her desire for a coat made out of puppy skin. That's what happens, you see, when you become too en grossed in art.
The alterations in the "real life" film are infinitely worse, though. In the original, Cruella is the agent and victim of her own evil designs. In the contemporary version, Anita is to blame for Cruella's actions. Not because she falls in love and wants to have a family. This is what is being lauded in the film. Her culpability stems front the fact that she showed too much imagination. Her drawing of a Cruella like woman wearing a dress of Dalmatian design sparks her boss's actions and sets the tale in motion.
On the grounds that she clothes her in the skin of her favourite pet, Anita's sketch is also an expression of desire for Cruella. Thus, she is guilty of two crimes and the subsequent tragic occurrences are Anita's punishment for her transgressions. She realises as much near the end of the movie. Naturally, the arrival of Roger, the personification of Disney esque middle America, saves Anita Q from herself and her "deviant" desires. This is all profoundly misogynistic but perfectly in accord with the patriarchal logic that dominates Disney. What kind of message does that send out? There should be an outcry against such a retrogressive agenda, but where is it?
The debate about Walt Disney's own prejudices has come out of the closet in recent years. Yet, mature analysis of the more sophisticated animated features is conspicuous by its absence. There is a reluctance to sully the image of innocence that Disney represents. And we aren't asking the right questions.
The Aristocats, for instance, isn't about two cats who fall in love. The plot is a red herring. It really proposes the superior wholesomeness of US culture over that of English or European, through the displacement of Bizet by jazz music, and Edgar J.J.J. by Thomas O'Malley.
We have too much reverence for our art objects. It's time for a little bit of disrespect.
