Tor.com content by

Mari Ness

Fiction and Excerpts [3]
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Fiction and Excerpts [3]

Wait. What Happened to the KISSING Part? “The Frog King, or Iron Henry”

You probably think you know the story: the girl, the well, the golden ball, the frog, and that kiss.

You’ve almost certainly heard the saying: “You’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs before you can find your prince.”

What you might not know is that in the original German versions, and even the first English translations, the princess doesn’t kiss the frog at all.

And it’s not exactly clear when the two of them managed to make things, well, legal.

[Read more]

When Even Dinosaur Fights Aren’t Enough: Disney’s Meet the Robinsons

“It’s been a long hard day full of emotional turmoil and dinosaur fights.”

For their next foray into computer animation, Disney decided to back away from trying to create something similar in tone to Shrek, and instead, recapture some of the sweetness at least associated with many Disney films, along with the occasional zaniness and attention to detail that was a highlight of the Pixar films.

The result was somewhat of a mess.

[A dinosaur, and an evil hat.]

An Inauspicious Start to Computer Animation: Disney’s Chicken Little

“Crazy little chicken. We don’t make eye contact. Bye bye.”

I’ve kept my computer open while watching each and every film in this Read-Watch, frequently pausing to take notes. Sometimes extensive notes, sometimes short notes, sometimes notes that I’m completely unsure about even a day later—for instance, “rabbit pizza!” during The Black Cauldron, a note that still mystifies me. Sometimes long lines of incomprehensible gibberish, usually, but not always, a contribution from a cat. Sometimes I’m so enthralled that I forget to take notes, and then have to watch the film again. (You can weep for me.) Sometimes my notes are so extensive that the post is mostly done before the film.

And sometimes, my notes consist of this (edited because my mother reads these posts):

Holy $@%# is this a bad movie.

[Spoilery discussion of the film’s many questionable moments; also, the Disney executive shakeups of 2005]

The Sky Is Falling! Maybe! “Henny Penny” or “Chicken Little”

The story of Henny Penny, also called Chicken Little, or sometimes Chicken-licken (not to be confused with “Finger-licken” from Kentucky Fried Chicken), the terrified little chicken convinced that the sky is falling and that life as we, or at least as chickens know it, is over, is common throughout European folklore—so common that “the sky is falling!” and “Chicken Little” and related names have become bywords for fearmongering, and the often tragic results that occur.

[The different endings of Chicken Little, with a bonus brief discussion of Disney’s first, deadly serious, take on the story.]

When Your Dream Project Is A Financial Failure: Disney’s Treasure Planet

Let’s skip back a moment, to 1985:

Writer/directors Ron Clements and John Musker: Pirates! In! Space!

Chairman of Walt Disney Pictures Jeffrey Katzenberg: No.

Ron Clements and John Musker: But! Pirates! In! Space!

Jeffrey Katzenberg: What about this “Great Mouse” thing you’ve been talking about? That sounded cute. And topical!

Or, to another moment, in 1987:

Ron Clements and John Musker: Pirates! In! Space!

Jeffrey Katzenberg: Or mermaids! In water!

[Read more]

Ahoy There, Mateys! Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island

“John Silver,” he said, “you’re a prodigious villain and imposter—a monstrous imposter, sir. I am told I am not to prosecute you. Well then, I will not. But the dead men, sir, hang about your neck like mill-stones.”

“Thank you kindly, sir,” replied Long John, again saluting.

The Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson was born into a family of lighthouse engineers, a heritage that provided him with a solid middle class upbringing. The family’s financial stability proved fortunate, since that meant they could keep the young boy provided with a steady diet of books, necessary since Stevenson was a sickly child, frequently bedridden, which made it difficult for him to fit into school and find friends. He found his comfort in stories, both in those books and in making up his own tales. Despite their not very secret hopes that Stevenson would follow his father into the lighthouse business, his parents encouraged his storytelling, and accepted his later refusal to work as an engineer or in the other field he received training in, law.

[Pirates, matey! Pirates!]

The End of the Disney Renaissance: Tarzan

“I’m in a tree with a man who talks to monkeys.”

As the 1990s drew to a close, the Disney Animation department faced a bit of a problem. The mid 1990s prestige films—Pocahontas, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Mulan—had done decently enough at the box office and award ceremonies, if more unevenly with critics, but somehow not quite as spectacularly well as the films that had started the Disney Renaissance—The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin and The Lion King. By “spectacularly well” Disney and I both mean “toys and other merchandise sales.” Pocahontas and Mulan were to make inroads on this later, when their protagonists joined the Disney Princess franchise, but that was still a few years off. Disney needed something huge again. Something popular. Something that could fit in with the new Animal Kingdom theme park about to open at Walt Disney World in Florida.

They settled on Tarzan.

[Why just maybe Tarzan and the gorillas should call it quits]

Heredity, Environment, and a Few Dead Lions: Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan of the Apes

For a naked man to drag a shrieking, clawing man-eater forth from a window by the tail to save a strange white girl, was indeed the last word in heroism.

By his own account, Edgar Rice Burroughs ended up falling into a prolific writer’s career more or less by accident, when, during a spate of boredom and plenty of free time, he found himself with little else to read other than a stack of pulp magazines. He was not impressed, saying later that he immediately dismissing the stories as “rotten.” Anyone, he thought, could write at least that badly. He could write at least that badly. And so, in an optimistic spirit, to try to earn a bit of cash, he did.

[Lions! Elephants! Jungle Abductions! Pirates! And…French lessons!]

Girl Power, A Cricket, and a Dragon: Disney’s Mulan

“You said you’d trust Ping. Why is Mulan any different?”

With a few arguable exceptions—The Jungle Book, Aladdin, and Pocahontas—Disney’s animated films had mostly focused on Western culture. Even those exceptions had been, shall we say, Americanized, especially in the case of The Jungle Book. By the mid-1990s, however, still caught up in the idea of doing serious, high art animation films, Disney decided to try something new: an animated film set in China. And, after some thought, they decided to hand over the idea to their Florida animation studio in Walt Disney World.

[Read more]

Honor and Crossdressing: The Ballad of Mulan

No one is quite sure when the story of Mulan was first told, or even first written down. But at some point—perhaps the 4th century, perhaps the 6th—someone decided to write down the sparse, evocative lines of “Mulan shi,” lines evocative enough to turn Mulan into one of the most popular figures in China: a skilled warrior, devoted family member, and emblem of virtue.

And oh yes, a kickass crossdresser.

[Plus, a camel and rabbits]

I Can Go the Merchandising Route: Disney’s Hercules

If we forget about A Goofy Movie—which I, at least, am willing to forget—the animated films that immediately followed Disney’s The Lion King had been, for want of better words, serious. Ambitious. Thoughtful. Self-consciously artistic. Filled with Serious Messages about the Color of the Wind, and Being Different. If not quite the box office triumphs that Aladdin and The Lion King had been, they did well enough to have Disney plan for three more ambitious films: a film based on the legendary Chinese warrior Hua Mulan; a technically innovative work based on Tarzan, and a second Fantasia film.

And popping up right in the middle of all of this serious, ambitious, beautifully animated work? Hercules.

[The most self-referential film of the Disney Renaissance.]

The Ancient Superhero: the Myths of Herakles

It’s impossible to know exactly when stories of Herakles (Greek)/Hercules (Latin) began to be told. If we are to believe the ancient Greek historian Herodotus, and we probably shouldn’t, Herakles lived more or less around 1300 B.C.E., founding various city states and royal lines in between fighting monsters, killing his children, taking away a tasty food source of divine liver from kindhearted, hungry eagles under the guise of “freeing” minor gods from unjust punishments, cross-dressing, and wrestling Death. This was the sort of thing that made for great stories, and by Herodotus’ time (5th century B.C.E.) the stories were widely told, not just in words, but in pottery, paint, mosaic, sculpture and stone—including the great temples raised in his honor, since by that time, Herakles was regarded as a god. [Gaining eternal popularity through monster killing and plenty of sex]

When Gargoyles Interrupt Your High Concept Film: Disney’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame

By 1993, the Disney Animation department was finally—finally—flying high. The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin had all been solid hits, leading to talk of a “Disney Renaissance,” a term that would later be used to include all of the films from The Little Mermaid to Tarzan, or, for some Disney scholars, all of the films from The Great Mouse Detective to Fantasia 2000 except Oliver and Company. The Rescuers Down Under, if not exactly a hit, had at least allowed animators to develop and play with computer software that allowed for stunning new animated techniques, now being used for the finishing touches on a movie about a little lion that, ok, was just filler until the real prestige movie, Pocahontas, could be completed.

Still, the opening segment of that filler movie—a little scene involving a bird’s eye view of animals running across an African safari—and the sheer beauty of the initial background work and some of the storyboards for Pocahontas started giving directors Gary Trousdale and Alan Wise ideas. Their film, Beauty and the Beast, had often taken a serious approach, in between the sillier moments featuring a singing candlestick and a chipped tea cup, and been lauded as high art. What if they were to follow that success with another high concept, serious film—like, say, an animated adaptation of Victor Hugo’s Notre-Dame de Paris?

[Reading the book should have told them why not, but we’ve all made mistakes before.]

Architecture, Fire, Melodrama, and a Goat: Victor Hugo’s Notre-Dame de Paris

…seeing that I was good for nothing, of my own free will I became a poet and a rhymester. That is a trade which one can always adopt when one is a vagabond.

–Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Victor Hugo (1802-1885) was born in turbulent times. His father, a not always successful officer with Napoleon’s army, also fought frequently with his wife. The combined marital and martial strife meant that Hugo spent his early years almost constantly on the move, with little stability until 1815, when Napoleon fell from power. Hugo converted to his mother’s royalist views—his political opinions would later greatly change on this point—and agreed to study law. His real love, however, was always for poetry. He had a talent: on the strength of his first book of poems alone, Odes et poesies diverses (1822), the restored Bourbon king granted him a pension.

[My VERY spoilery post on this 19th C. book…]

The Uneasy Mix of Prestige and a Cute Raccoon: Disney’s Pocahontas

Jeffrey Katzenberg, head of Walt Disney Studios in the early 1990s, could never quite manage to forget that the 1991 Beauty and the Beast had almost—almost—won an Academy Award for Best Picture, losing out to a film about a cannibal. A cannibal. On the bright side, Katzenberg figured that the nomination meant that finally, Oscar voters were ready to recognize a Disney animated film as the Best Picture of the Year. If, that is, it was serious enough. Meaningful enough. Full of the sort of Oscar bait that had earned Gandhi, The Last Emperor, and Dances With Wolves the Academy Award for Best Picture. Katzenberg considered the studio’s available options. It was far too late to transform Aladdin into that sort of serious film, and clearly, that little lion movie wasn’t going to be much more than cute animals. On a more promising note, a few animators were talking about developing a work by, all of people, that cheerful French novelist Victor Hugo, especially after the success of the musical version of his Les Miserables. But developing that work would clearly take some time.

No, the best bet, Katzenberg decided, was Pocahontas—a film that its early developers had pitched as a sorta blend between American legend and Romeo and Juliet. With a few tweaks, he figured, Disney could transform the film into a serious, sweeping, romantic contender that was perfect Oscar bait.

Unfortunately for Katzenberg, this film still had to be a Disney animated feature.

The problems just got worse from there.

[This film would be so much better if it just focused on the raccoon]