Sunday, 16 November 2014

Walt Disney by Andre Lozenge, Pangolin’s Film Correspondent.

The Ed gives me some naff things to write about. I have much more important issues to address, like why do they insist on putting buttons on jeans when we’ve got zips, or why slugs crawl UP my garage wall every night? But I know he wouldn’t publish my findings on these and other important questions so I’ll discuss Walt Disney instead.

Never met him. Always seems fairly happy in pics I’ve seen and did start what is now all over us like a rash. Pixar is it called? Traditional tales given a flawless “you’d swear it was real” finish. You can see where this is going can’t you? I didn’t like “Avatar” either.

But I DID like pre-war Donald Duck – grumpy, sly, and long suffering. Funny and fallible. And I liked the animation methods he lived through, as did Mickey, Minnie and Horace Horsecollar, although I wasn’t really that keen on Mickey. He was a bit prissy and holier than thou. A bit like Frodo Baggins in the LotR film trilogy. And the book.

I suppose as soon as the computer stuck its beeping nose into animation, things started to achieve levels of perfection which are, for me, a tad boring. I did like “Up” – was that Disney? No matter, I liked it, but as much for the voices as the pictures. And I loved that French guy’s film about the cyclist – Something Rendezvous – so I’m not AGAINST computer created animation. But Disney’s always seem a bit too shiny, a bit too perfect, a bit, well a bit like Disneyworld, and who with half an ounce of healthy cynicism could spend more than five minutes in there before going completely nuts?

I have a true story about Disneyworld. It includes coarse language, so I’ll tell it. Years ago, some friends took their kids to Orlando where Mickey lives. Late in the visit they headed for one of the photocall spots dotted around the complex, where the kids can have their picture taken with Mickey using a free disposable camera. As they approached, they could hear raised voices. An argument even. In Disneyland? Surely not. A Scouse family were taking Mickey to task about which child had been first in the photo queue. Scouse Dad was pushing his tough-looking kid forward whilst Mickey was favouring a pretty little blonde pigtailed short type, saying, “Oh no – I think this little lady was first”. “My lad was ferst” shouted Scousedad. Mickey maneuvered the little girl and went into Mickeypose with her whilst her father, a very large US gent, prepared to take the pic. "Ey, ous!” shouted Scousedad to Mickey, “If dats der way it is, yer can ‘ave dis (brandishes camera) and shove it up yer arse!” Exit Team Merseyside.

“Oh dearrrr” mumbled Mickey. “OH DEAR”?? Any self respecting red blooded all-American mascot would have knocked the tar out of the interfering Scouse git, but typical of Disney’s mind-numbing niceness, all Mickey could manage was, “Oh dear”. Foghorn Leghorn would’ve hospitalized the disrespectful Brit. What Popeye might have done doesn’t bear thinking about.
So there you go – one massively influential creative corporation condemned out of hand. Why? Too much sugar, WAY too much sugar.Way too nice. 

I blame Bambi.

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