Thursday Movie Picks - The Dark/Night

Written as part of the weekly blogathon hosted by Wandering Through the Shelves. Join us by picking three movies that fit the week's theme and writing a bit about them!

Clever theme title this week! I have to admit, but biggest fear, still to this day, is being alone in the dark. It's not as crippling a fear as it used to be, thankfully. When I was younger, it could take me hours to go to sleep in my own bed because of how scared I was of the darkness. The darkness is the unknown, it obscures what we know and twists it into something other. It can be difficult for movies to truly capture that, since a large part of the experience of watching a movie is... ya know...being able to see what's going on. But these movies do a good job of capturing the terror of the darkness and nighttime.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (David Hand, et. al., 1937) In a deviation from my usual modus operandi, this whole movie isn't about this week's topic, or even mostly about this week's topic. BUT, the sequence above is about as perfect a depiction of being surrounded by darkness as it gets - it shows very artistically and VERY effectively how in the dark, things become something far more sinister than what they actually are, and how everything - EVERYTHING - has eyes that seem to follow you as you get more and more lost. This was the first thing I ever remember seeing in a movie that well and truly scared me.

The Blair Witch Project (Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sanchez, 1999) Sometimes, it's not about the things that surround you in the dark, but the darkness itself. The absence of anything, the inability to see beyond a few inches in front of you. No movie I've seen captures that feeling quite like The Blair Witch Project, which made my entire family so afraid of the dark that after seeing it, it took all four of us to bring one garbage can from our garage to the end of our driveway. By now, everyone knows the story of the three student filmmakers making a documentary in the woods of Maryland who disappeared, leaving only this footage behind (and how the marketing was so effective that many people believed it actually was a documentary). It basically created the "found footage" genre, and has all the positive and negatives one associates with films of that ilk. But as with so many trendsetters, it became famous for a reason, and that reason is that Blair Witch gets down and dirty with our fear of the dark, and what unknowns lurk just beyond our sight and our grasp. And because it knows that when shit hits the fan, most of us wouldn't serve up a clever quip and stand our ground; we'd curse to high heaven and run like hell.

Lights Out (David F. Sandberg, 2016) One of the movies I've seen as part of my 31 Days of Horror this year, and specifically with this week's theme in mind! I don't think I would have survived seeing this in the theater, although honestly the 2013 short that it's based on is maybe better. But that's only because in service of making an entire feature, there had to be, ya know, a story to build the concept around. And the story, which is a metaphor for depression, is a bit too obvious and the film sort of runs the metaphor into the ground. BUT. The scary scenes, dealing with the ghostie who only appears in darkness, are SCARY. Had I seen this when I was younger, there would have been NO WAY I would have been able to sleep with the lights out, which is surely the exact reaction the film was going for.

Thursday Movie Picks - Farms

Written as part of the weekly blogathon hosted by Wandering Through the Shelves. Join in the fun by picking three movies that fit the week's theme and writing a bit about them!

This week on Thursday Movie Picks, we're going to the country, to visit some farms!

I grew up in the suburb state of Connecticut, where seasonal apple-picking orchards and corn mazes are plentiful. One of my grade-school friends actually lived on a family farm, and while I know we went there a couple of times on field trips, I do not remember anything about those trips. But these farm-based movies, now these I remember really well.

Cold Comfort Farm (John Schlesinger, 1995) This hilarious send-up of British narrative tropes is an underseen delight. Kate Beckinsale, in her film debut, is a perfectly prim (and vaguely lesbionic) Londoner author who goes out to the country in search of "real life", and some long-estranged relatives, and ends up bringing a bit of big city flair to the drab country farm and its inhabitants. If you are a fan of British literature and/or film, there is much to enjoy here, including Ian McKellen as a countryside fire-and-brimstone preacher and Joanna Lumley as Beckinsale's even more lesbionic friend from London.

Babe (Chris Noonan, 1995) "That'll do, pig." This gentle bedtime story of a movie, about a farmer who adopts a runt-of-a-litter pig who becomes a "sheeppig" when the farm's mother sheepdog takes him under her wing, is one of my all-time favorites. The real live talking animal visual effects hold up spectacularly, the performances are all perfection, the production design is lovely, and on top of all that is a message extolling the virtues of kindness and acceptance that plays well to anyone from ages 1 to 101.

Chicken Run (Nick Park, 2000) I am a huge fan of Nick Park's Wallace & Gromit shorts, and this, his first feature, combines a lot of the things that I love about those shorts into one full-length feature-sized package: the fun, endearing characters, the clever and hilarious Rube Goldberg-esque machines, and the ever-so-slightly dark, ever-so-British humor. And a delightfully twisted story: The chickens on Tweedy's farm come up with a plan to escape the POW-camp-like existence with the help of a circus-performer American rooster, as Mr and Mrs. Tweedy develop a new plan to increase production of their chicken pies. The whole film is funny and clever, and endlessly delightful.

Thursday Movie Picks - TV Edition: Spin-Off Series

Written as part of the weekly blogathon hosted by Wandering Through the Shelves. Partake in the fun by picking three movies (or TV shows, when the case calls for it) that fit the week's theme!

I was originally going to do a theme within a theme this week, but ended up deciding to just pick three of my favorite TV Spin-Offs. It's been a crazy two weeks surrounding Pride weekend here in NYC and I'm more than a little tired. But also very spiritually fulfilled.

The Jeffersons (1975-1985) Just take a moment to revel in that theme song for a bit. It's okay, it's one of the greats. This All in the Family Spin-off (of which there were four others) is every bit as good as its parent show, dealing with issues that people weren't really talking about in "polite conversation" like interracial relationships and... well... racism in general. Sherman Hemsley and Isabel Sanford are perfectly matched as the titular couple who get to move to Manhattan's Upper East Side from Queens because of Mr. Jefferson's successful dry-cleaning business. Their fights are some of the funniest couple squabbles ever shown on TV. But it's Marla Gibbs as their maid Florence who really steals the show.

Frasier (1993-2004) One of the most Emmy-rewarded sitcoms of all time is a spin-off of one of the most successful TV shows of all time, Cheers. Famous for its witty, erudite scripts and sparkling chemistry between its leads, Frasier follows the titular radio psychiatrist as he takes care of his blue-collar father and clashes with his younger brother Niles, also a psychiatrist. I didn't much like this show as a kid when it was popular, but watching it in syndication as I got older, I came to really appreciate its smarts, which it never sacrificed even when it delved into farce and physical comedy.

Pinky and the Brain (1995-1998) GOD I miss great TV theme songs! Spun off from a recurring segment on the more variety show-esque Animaniacs, Pinky and the Brain follows the titular laboratory mice as the genius grump Brain hatches convoluted plots for world domination and the idiotic but good-natured Pinky inevitably screws them up somehow. This show was a staple of my after-school viewing as a kid, and it's still a delight as an adult, thanks in large point to the inimitable voice work and the often brilliantly-conceived and executed parodies that were the show's stock in trade.

Thursday Movie Picks - Origin Movies

Written as part of the weekly blogathon hosted by Wandering Through the Shelves. Join our merry band of regulars by picking three movies that fit the week's theme and writing a bit about them!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE! My favorite holiday is here once again. A time where we have to focus on nothing but the good things in life: namely food and all the things we're thankful for. And dear reader, I have to say, I'm thankful for you. Yes, YOU. Whoever you are that's reading this. Because there's something unsatisfying and slightly sad about writing a blog post that no one reads. So thank you for taking the plunge and reading these posts. I know I don't post as often as I probably should (follow me on Letterboxd for more frequent, albeit short, movie reviews), but I do want to post more often. It's just that life doesn't always allow for it. And every time I think I'm turning a corner and will be able to devote more time to this here little blog, something else pops up. But it's okay! Because when I can, I post, and when I post, we can have a conversation in the comments - and that's REALLY why I do this. To have conversations with people about movies. Movies we love, movies we hate, and movies we're mixed on.

This week on Thursday Movie Picks, we're talking Origin Movies. Which I guess just has the "superhero" implied, as I can't think of anything else that might have an origin movie. I welcome others to challenge that notion with their picks.

Frankly, the recent spate of "origin stories" has been mind-numbing to me. They're pretty much all the same, and of generally similar (low) quality. But that could just be my annoyance with superhero movies rearing its ugly head. There are just too many of them nowadays, and none of them have left me completely satisfied. That said, I do generally like these particular films more than I dislike them.

X-Men: First Class (Matthew Vaughn, 2011) I make no bones about the fact that I much prefer the X-Men movies to any of the other Marvel movies, but that's because I have memories of the Saturday morning cartoons, and because there is a HUMONGOUS cast of characters. Yes, it sucks that according to the movies the only ones worth a damn are Professor X, Magneto, and Wolverine, but the constant team dynamic is always engaging - don't like the main character in this scene? Don't worry, your favorite will have a big moment in 5, 4, 3, 2... And these characters are just more fun to watch than the (surprisingly) sullen Avengers. Plus, this particular movie takes place in the swinging '60s, and makes fantastic use of that in moments. Plus, there has never been a better superhero pair than James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender as Professor Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr, here seen when they meet and take on a crew of youngsters who have mutant "powers". First Class is surprisingly fun, even for a series that always was fun, but more importantly handles Big Issues with the importance they deserve while still keeping a light touch. As a bonus, it features the greatest use of the one PG-13 F-word EVER.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Rupert Wyatt, 2011) There was NO reason to ever expect that this was ever going to be anything but crap - was anyone clamoring for a prequel to the Charlton Heston classic Planet of the Apes? Much less one starring James Franco? But whoever was behind this did two things right: They gave the story an undeniable, emotional storyline (a baby chimp is given a potential Alzheimer's cure that increases his brain function, by a well-meaning scientist whose father is suffering from the disease), and they hired Andy Serkis to play that chimp, named Caesar, and digital effects house WETA to bring Caesar to life. Serkis works wonders in the role, and while skeptics and naysayers may discount his performance as all digital trickery, there's no denying that the film's most powerful moment - Caesar finding his voice - is all him. This is one of the most thoughtful, well-constructed blockbusters of the '00s.

Monsters University (Dan Scanlon, 2013) No, this one isn't really great. The story is rote (jock and nerd are roommates, compete against each other and then together for a common goal), and a lot of the jokes are surprisingly stale. But this is a world you just want to savor, with something new and creative lurking in every corner of the frame. You really get the feeling watching this that the Pixar animators were just given carte blanche to do whatever they wanted, and they played around with EVERYTHING. Character design, set dressing, sound design... there is a sense of unbridled creativity coursing through every frame of Monsters University. Which makes it even more of a pity that the story itself is so been-there-done-that.

Thursday Movie Picks - Movies Based on Toys

Written as part of the weekly blogathon hosted by Wandering Through the Shelves. Join us by picking three movies that fit the week's theme and saying a little something about them!

It's Christmas season, which means everyone will soon be packing our nation's malls and big box stores trying to get that one perfect present for their favorite someone. And we all know what that means. Fights over who gets the last Tickle-Me Elmo! Or whatever the hot toy is this year, I personally have absolutely no clue.

In the spirit of the season, this week's programming on Thursday Movie Picks is centered around movies based on toys. Not a particularly illustrious group, and the three I've picked this week couldn't be more obvious, but they also cannot be bettered. I dare anyone to try.

Toy Story (John Lasseter, 1995) The movie that introduced the geniuses at Pixar to the world is still an utter delight to watch on just about every level, and it's based on a hook so simple it's hard to believe no one had ever thought of it before: the life of children's toys when their owners aren't around, and how they react to the hot new toy shoved into their midst. Equal parts funny and sweet, it's easy to see why this was such a big hit and an enduring favorite among Pixar's stellar output.

Toy Story 2 (John Lasseter, 1999) The Empire Strikes Back of animated sequels, it's almost impossible to believe that this was originally going to go direct to video. Personally, I think this is one of the best films of Hollywood's most recent annus mirabilis, taking complex themes of abandonment and ownership of one's own identity and dealing with them - VERY seriously - through a story about children's toys, of all things. And it's just as funny and exciting as the first.

Toy Story 3 (Lee Unkrich, 2010) I don't think, 10-11 years after Toy Story 2, that anyone was particularly clamoring for a second Toy Story sequel, making this a trilogy or, God forbid, a series... but then it came out, and made just about everyone in the world cry ugly, ugly tears, including this guy right here. I would blame the 3D glasses, but I don't think that would account for the great big heaving SOBS I cried in a theater packed full of children and their parents. Whatever alchemy was going on behind the scenes at Pixar when they wrote the last act of this movie, I can only hope that it's still there, and will be for decades to come, because as far as I'm concerned, this is the studio's crowning achievement, a complex, well-thought-out film that stands on its own AND as the completion of a trilogy, both a complex meditation on death and a rollicking adventure story that is equally enjoyable whether you're 5 or 105,

Hit Me With Your Best Shot - SHORT FILMS!!

Written as part of the series hosted by Nathaniel R. of The Film Experience, a great website where I contribute occasionally, and which you should really read, if you aren't already.

I'm not quite sure how Don Hertzfeld's World of Tomorrow came to be, and frankly, I'd rather not know. Because it is a glorious, glorious thing - totally juvenile yet utterly adult on every level in a way that is simply miraculous. And miracles are really better left unexplained, aren't they?

The film touches on so many things in its fifteen-minute length that it's astonishing. However, that means they all fly by at a relatively quick pace, which makes choosing a best shot potentially impossible. But shockingly, for me, it wasn't. I knew my best shot the moment I saw it, no thinking necessary.

Generally speaking, World of Tomorrow is an incredibly colorful film. The "background" images which float over, under, around, and through Hertzfeld's inimitable stick figures are pieces of pure technical wizardry (again, I don't want to know through what magic they came to be - they're better off that way), adding a strange sense of place (and no-place) to each scene. But here, there's nothing. Just darkness. A pure expression of the loneliness and sadness of the future. This is how Future Emily felt when her husband died, and still feels: "I do not have the mental or emotional capacity to deal with his loss. But sometimes I sit in a chair late at night and quietly feel very bad. When the night is at its most quiet, I can hear death."

DAMN.

That may be the most accurate description I've ever heard of mourning, especially when paired with that image. Future Emily introduces the future to Emily Prime as "The Outernet", a neural network that connects everyone, but for most of the film it's not clear whether that's a construct which they eventually leave or not. Emily Prime can change the colors just by thinking of them, and is able to interact with Future Emily's memories when she wants to, and Hertzfeld is purposefully vague about what exactly all this means. But in this short scene of pure blackness, we only ever see Future Emily. It's her despair made manifest in the most stark, striking way imaginable, instantly recognizable even to our "primitive" eyes, and utterly unique from the entire rest of the film.

I read some article a while back which said that when we experience loss - whether through death or a breakup or some other means -  our mind actually does not know how to handle it, so the mental "pain" we feel lights up the same parts of the brain that respond to physical pain, resulting in the feeling we call "heartbreak". Now, apply that to Future Emily here. She's a third generation clone of Emily Prime, and in her own words, only some slight signs of "mentool detarioration" have started to set in. It makes perfect sense that her brain's response to this kind of pain would have issues. But then, too, this is how many people in the present deal with loss. In a strange way, as desolate and isolating as this image is, it's also kind of comforting, showing us that even hundreds of years into the future, when people upload their "digital consciousness" to boxes which apparently cause a lot of pain that other future people apparently don't have the emotional capacity to understand, loss still affects us deeply, and we still don't have an easy way to deal with it.

And then, there's also hope in Future Emily's next sentence: "I am very proud of my sadness, because it means I am more alive."

There's nothing more human than that.
 

*                    *                    *

Stephan Zlotescu's True Skin isn't so much a short film as it is a VFX reel that basically serves as a trailer for itself (apparently Amazon has picked it up to develop into a series, which is a smart move on their part). It's the complete opposite of World of Tomorrow - a wicked case of style over substance. And by "wicked", I mean... DAMN, what WICKED style. There's nothing else out there that really looks like this (it's basically the future of Minority Report coated with the neon rush of Enter the Void), making it totally arresting visually even as it follows a basic, bare-bones noir "plot": In the future, people are tricking themselves out with synthetic parts, partially in order to live longer. Our protagonist, Kaye, has stolen a classified prototype chip of some sort, and the authorities are after him in Bangkok. Zlotescu (who also stars) and director of photography H1 (and, it must be said, the VFX team) cram an unbelievable amount of visual data into practically every frame, and in ways that make me crave to see it in 3D. Which is, I guess, why I ended up picking this as my best shot:

It kinda needs to be in motion to really do it justice, but pretty much everything that is unique to the film - the visual style, the android accoutrements, the overall almost-assault on the senses - is in this one frame, which is literally SCREAMING AT YOU to LOOK AT IT! Yes, that really is an advertisement for "EYES" hanging in the air in front of a guy actually selling synthetic eyes. It's doubling down a bit, but hey, it's neon-future Bangkok. That's probably exactly what it would look like.

Thursday Movie Picks - Animated Movies

Written for the blogathon hosted by Wandering Through the Shelves. Join us (we regulars are a friendly group!) by picking three movies that meet the week's theme and telling everyone about them.

I love animated movies. Always have. They have the ability to do much more, to be more creative, than live-action movies, because of the simple fact that they aren't tethered to reality in any way shape or form. This week I wanted to shine a light on some lesser-known films that should be just as beloved as any Disney or Pixar classic.

Allegro no troppo - Valse Triste (1977) by Cartoonzof2006 

Allegro Non Troppo (Bruno Bozzetto, 1976) This is kind of cheating a little, as there is a live-action "frame story" in this Italian parody of Disney's Fantasia. Bozzetto goes a little meta here, telling the story of an animator who comes up with what he thinks is an original idea (animation set to classical music), and finds out it's already been done by an American. But he decides to make his own version anyway, using an orchestra of old ladies. But the animated sequences are at the heart of the film, and they are each completely different and stunning in their own way. There's the ersatz evolution story set to Ravel's "Bolero", the exploration of mob mentality in Dvorak's "Slavonic Dance No. 7, Op. 46",  and a version of the Adam and Eve story accompanied by Stravinsky's "Firebird". And then, my favorite, this sequence set to Sibelius's "Valse Triste". I dare you not to shed a tear.

Mary & Max (Adam Elliot, 2009) I don't think I have the words to express my love of this Australian oddity, except to say that if you haven't seen it, you should drop whatever it is you are doing and do so this instant. I mean it. The story of a young Australian girl and an older Jewish American man who become the most unlikely of pen pals is funny, heartfelt, and wise beyond belief. I love it so, and only partially because the end makes me weep buckets.

Sita Sings the Blues (Nina Paley, 2009) If you haven't seen Sita Sings the Blues yet, why the hell not? It's FREE online! Nina Paley released it under a Creative Commons license, having become a leading member of the free culture movement after experiencing trouble getting the rights to certain Annette Hanshaw songs she wanted to use in the film. Fiendishly clever and devilishly funny, Paley's adaptation of the Hindu epic "The Ramayana" is a gorgeous, flawless piece of animation, encompassing multiple different styles across its two story strands: One the traditional story, told from the point of view of the hero's wife, and the other Paley's own story of how her husband ended their relationship. The two stories have more in common than you might think, and part of the fun is in watching what new, eye-popping things Paley is going to try next to tell her story.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Pocahontas

I know.

I suck at blogging.

I haven't even posted anything dance-related in... well, let's just say way too long and leave it at that. I guess that's what comes from actually having to work at teaching dance; I spend all my free time choreographing and planning lessons now.

But that doesn't matter, because I really like writing for The Film Experience when I can, and I especially like participating in Nathaniel's Hit Me With Your Best Shot series. It's fun, and when I've seen the chosen film and had to agonize over which shot to choose, it's more interesting to see what other people chose. It's a sense of community that I just love.

Anyway, this week's selection is Disney's Pocahontas. Not exactly the strongest film of the so-called "Disney Renaissance", but probably the most underrated. Coming as it did immediately following The Lion King, it was probably going to feel like a let-down anyway, but Disney does not have the best track record in dealing sensitively with other cultures (Peter Pan), so the choice to tell the story of the Native American Pocahontas and British explorer John Smith was probably not the best choice of story for them. And honestly, at it's best, Pocahontas feels more like a dry run for the much better Mulan than its own fully-formed film. Even so, I remember first seeing the trailer for Pocahontas when I was a young boy of about 10 and being kind of awed by it. The trailer was basically just the full "Colors of the Wind" sequence, but it was strikingly different from anything Disney had done before and in one spectacular moment, downright breathtakingly gorgeous:

THAT. Is so fucking gorgeous that you momentarily forget that the phrase "can you paint with all the colors of the wind" is maybe the most ridiculous lyric Stephen Schwartz has ever written (which is saying something). I don't think there's ever been a moment that impressionistic in a narrative Disney feature film before or maybe even since. It's completely singular, instantly recognizable, and bordering on iconic, a high-water mark for the film's animation. But it's not my choice for the best shot.

I certainly thought it was going to be when I sat down to watch the film, but that's the way these things usually go, isn't it? You think you remember a film, and then you watch it after many, many years, and you learn things you never knew you never knew.

Or, you know, you just see something that completely passed you by the first time. Whatever.

Anyway, my choice for Best Shot is contained in what is in my opinion the film's best song, "Savages". In it, the British colonists and the Native Americans each prepare to do violence to the other group, and sing a song with remarkably similar lyrics, prompting the (perhaps obvious) question of who the real savages are. It sounds a bit obvious, but it's a very mature theme for what is clearly a children's film, and the film doesn't shy away from it, coming up with some striking imagery of guns and cannons replacing the bodies of the colonists and of the Native Americans putting their warpaint on.

The best moment comes at the end of the number. As the two sides prepare, fires in both camps send streams of smoke up into the air, reflecting the growing shadows of their soldiers. The shadows get stretched and distorted almost beyond recognition as the clouds of war continue to expand, and they meet, like this:

followed immediately by a crash of lightning and the end of the number. It's one of the best images of a vision of war I think I've ever seen, and it's something that couldn't really be done in a live-action film. There are more painterly shots in Pocahontas (which certainly isn't the prettiest of Disney films), but I think this is the most meaningful, the most multi-faceted, and perhaps the most adult. It's dealing with big themes that kids don't think about and visualizing them in a way that kids can understand at every level: it's clear not only what's happening, but that's what happening is wrong, and both sides are equally to blame. That's probably the best theme Disney was ever going to get out of telling this story, and this shot encapsulates it perfectly.

. . .

There's also room for a totally dirty interpretation of this shot that amuses me, even though I don't subscribe to the whole "Disney movies were totally dirty and made to fuck up kids without them knowing!" thing.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Fantasia

Curse you, Nathaniel!

Choosing a best shot from Fantasia is (as I mentioned earlier), a fool's errand, even when you're allowed to pick one shot from each sequence. Not to mention the fact that I haven't seen the film since I was a child, and even then I tended to fast-forward through the entire middle (the entirety of Rite of Spring and portions of Pastoral Symphony, both of which have exciting moments but are far too long for a child's attention span). On top of that, the purpose of choosing Fantasia is to celebrate the centennial of Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring", which has always been my least favorite section of the movie.

And on top of all that, I have been super busy this week.

But rewatching some of the sequences over the past week, I've been reminded just how freaking gorgeous Fantasia is. Practically every frame is a work of art, even in the sequences I dislike. I mean, Disney itself has marketed just about every frame from The Sorcerer's Apprentice in one form or another, and for good reason. It's possibly the most iconic piece of animation in the Disney canon. Which is exactly why picking anything from Mickey's big moment would be way too easy. But upon watching the sequence again, I was struck by this moment:

Foreshadowing the last sequence in an anthology film? Has any other anthology film ever done that? Because, come on. Even if Yen Sid (heh heh) is conjuring a butterfly, in the beginning it totally looks like the malevolent terror Chernabog, the mountain/demon star of Night on Bald Mountain and scourge of countless childhood nightmares.

Fantasia - Dance of the Hours

For this week's Hit Me With Your Best Shot, Nathaniel has chosen Disney's Fantasia, which poses a near-impossible task. Whole sequences of Fantasia are true works of art - how can you choose just one shot from the whole film as "best"? I haven't seen the whole film in years (since I was a kid), but I remember a lot of it vividly. Given the nature of this blog, it should come as no surprise that my favorite sequences are the Nutcracker Suite and this one right here:

I defy anyone to hear "Dance of the Hours" and not instantly see those dancing ostriches, hippopotamuses, elephants, and crocodiles. What I love about this sequence is how the animators constantly play with expectations. The piece starts with the ostriches, who are appropriately light and graceful, but far more flexible than you might expect. Next come the hippos, and boy do they not move according to expectations, even if all that effort tires them out. The elephants are like the hippos, only more playful. But it's those kooky crocs who steal the show. Much as I love this piece, it never really captures my attention until they show up, with their silly capes and mile-wide mouths. They should be the villains of the piece, but because of their goofy grins, they end up being far more funny than menacing, to the point that you're never sure if they want to eat the hippo or romance her.

Animator John Hench apparently resisted working on this segment because he knew nothing about ballet, so to appease him Walt Disney gave him season tickets and backstage access to the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo. The end result is a perfect blend of ballet technique and animalistic movement. Little things like the way the ostriches walk, the literal shifting of weight in the hippos and elephants, and the way the crocodiles slither and curl up all speak to the real-life animals that inspire them, but are incorporated seamlessly into how they dance.

Taking full advantage of the possibilities of animation, the laws of physics are given a big ol' heave-ho, allowing the lead ostrich to be thrown up very high in the air very quickly, and then float down with enough time to do at least a hundred changements. It also allows the crocodiles to lift the hippos in any number of different, exciting, sometimes funny ways, like just using their tails!

Fantasia has lots of dance in it, but this is the only sequence that really uses dance (ballet specifically) as its driving force. It's also arguably the most fun, which should quiet all those people who decry ballet as boring. There are plenty of comic ballets, just as there are comic operas. Plus, if you picture people performing this instead of animated animals, it's still pretty great. Actually, seeing as how the whole thing is even structured like an actual ballet (the various ensembles each dance separately, followed by a pas de deux, then a grand finale with everyone dancing together), I would love to see some adventurous ballet company attempt this. They'd need some wires and some crazy costumes, but it could be a lot of fun.

Favorite Moment: the crocodiles' entrance, at first menacing, until they throw back their capes and have the silliest look on their faces - in perfect unison, of course (at 7:50 in the clip); and hippo's run-and-jump onto the croc, who attempts to catch her (at 9:10 in the clip) - because some (poor) partners really do feel like that when you try to lift them.
Length: Approx. 11:50