If The Nightingales Could Sing Like You, They'd Sing Much Sweeter Than They Do

Cinderella (Geronimi, Jackson, Luske, 1950)

Despite the triumphs of the compilation Disney films that have been running for the past couple of months, I was pretty interested to finally get back to a cohesive start to finish plot film. Now as I look over the poster the one line that immediately jumps out is the one that compares this film to Snow White. Obviously a red flag is immediately raised because of how bad Snow White is in just about every respect aside from animation quality. Thankfully, as the film started playing, Cinderella proves to be the exact opposite of Snow White, great in just about everything aside from animation quality. All of the characters look great, and what they are supposed to be interacting with is always top notch, but all of the backgrounds in the film are so incredibly flat and lifeless that the film seems almost amateurish in its construction at points. Hell, during Cinderella's carriage ride to the kingdom the horses look as big as the buildings. The film flashes brilliantly when the animals and the people take center stage, and the rape scene is incredibly striking, but I could never bring myself from looking away from the backgrounds. During one sequence where Cinderella is in one of the bedrooms with her step sisters the bedpost was indistinguishable from the wallpaper.

Thankfully, the film remains compelling because of how well established all of the characters are. Sure they are not incredibly deep and the viewer mostly knows what the film has in store, I mean a cat named Lucifer is not going to end up being a good guy, but each character is given personality and the emotional investment is built from there. I was so relieved that the characters were not given the same lifeless models that Snow White assaulted us with that I really cannot help but triumph the film from a story telling stand point. Cinderella is shown as compassionate and this quality is reinforced throughout the entire film, just as her step mother is shown as evil and the film keeps coming back to her to remind the viewer that she poses an immediate threat. It's everything that was missing from the flat princess film Snow White. Paired with the very lean run time (71 minutes), Cinderella never overstays its welcome.

The action scenes are all mostly well paced as well. Sure the introduction and the bead stealing sequence get a little too comedic for my tastes, but on the whole the film really blends humor in excellently with the narrative, and the mice are still pretty charming despite my best attempts not to be won over by their dribbling moronic talk. Lucifer is a pretty imposing cat as well, and having him serve as an extension of the step mother is pretty great. The one scene that really worked for me was the final slipper sequence. The elongated nature of the scene makes it suspenseful right up to the very end, thanks in large part to all the obstacles placed in front of the mice. The one thing that bothered me though is that none of the stuff in the second flight of stairs should have happened at all. The step mother never locked Lucifer in there, someone would have noticed the dog running up the steps and breaking down a door, it just doesn't add up and seems really cheap to me.

Still, I enjoyed my time with Cinderella despite the film lacking any sort of logic for me to follow. The animation of the people is pretty impressive, and the animals all look great, plus the film is both enjoyable and complex enough to work for audiences of all ages. The real strength, as I touched on earlier, is the use of character establishment and following up with what the film presents. None of the characters are underdeveloped 'archetypes,' which I still think is a poor excuse for lazy writing, yet none go through any sort of dynamic noticeable change. It's all pretty impressive. I wish I had more time for this review, but my eyes are hurting for some reason. Must be the damn computer screen mixed with my allergies.

B+ or 3.79842395703415678234658139

Cinderella achieves an 11.6 out of 17, with 0 being Fantasia, 8 being my recollection of another specific film in this marathon that will be revealed when it has been watched, and 17 representing how great Hercules is based on my most recent watching, which was likely over the summer, or winter break.

Currently in the marathon the rankings go as...

1. Bambi - (16.3/17)
2. Song of the South (16.3/17)
3. Dumbo - (14.9/17)
4. Pinocchio - (13.3/17)
5. Cinderella - (11.6/17)
6. Melody Time - (10.5/17)
7. Make Mine Music - (8.2/17)
8. The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad - (7.9/17)
9. Saludos Amigos - (7.7/17)
10. The Three Caballeros - (6.66/17)
11. Fun and Fancy Free - (5.5/17)
12. Snow White - (2.5/17)
13. Fantasia - (0/17)

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

Honey, What Reveals You Is What You Try And Hide Away

Shadow of a Doubt (Hitchcock, 1943)

Prior to going into this film I had known two little facts that had me pretty excited. The first, and most notable, is that Hitchcock has stated that he considers Shadow of a Doubt to be his favorite of his American films. The second, and more interesting to me personally, is the involvement of esteemed American playwright Thornton Wilder in the script writing process. Obviously these two elements had me pretty excited to see how everything came together and, while I was not sure why I was skeptical, everything blended together seamlessly to craft a compelling and incredibly tense film. While I can say right now that my underexposure to the rest of Hitchcock's work, I have only seen Psycho, results in my unable to informatively agree or disagree with Hitchcock's endearment, but I am going to attempt to make out what makes this particular film so compelling.

I could go on about the direction, but the film is from Hitchcock so it is to be expected that a certain level of pedigree can be found in just about every scene. Instead, I shall start with the acting that is on display during the film's nearly two hour run. Anchored by Teresa Wright and Joseph Cotten as the two Charlies, the two have perfect chemistry and offer an engaging back and forth dynamic that covers, and nails, just about every emotion in the book. Cotten obviously gives a chilling performance as Uncle Charlie and the way he constantly changes his mannerisms depending on the situation is mighty fantastic, but I would have to say that Wright is easily the stand out. Every scene she is in she brings human elements to instead of simply acting to emotion. She displays innocence and the shattering of this innocence and she handles it with such magnificence that I could not help but be bowled over by her performance.

Of course a lot of this has to do with the script. Early on sequences with Ann drip of Wilder's writing, but as things continue to move forward and the film offers up scenes like the one between both Charlies in the bar and the final scene with Wright in the church the film starts to take on a theatrical quality and the dialogue becomes almost poetic. The script is so carefully constructed, or more specifically the dialogue, that the film's themes and the ideas presented are almost immediately heightened to such a high level that the film, even if all the other elements were terrible, would be a fine example of film construction simply for the writing. Factor in how well humor is blended in with the plot and how intense Hitchcock makes the suspenseful sequences and the film takes on a quality of brilliance. Perhaps though the film's second greatest strength is how the viewer is always kept guessing and one can never be sure which direction the film will take in the future.

Sadly the film has somewhat of a turning point toward the end where things begin to fall apart. I personally think that everything would have been great if the film has simply stopped when Uncle Charlie makes an ascent up the stairs and we are treated to a beautiful long shot of Charlie holding her hat and standing in the doorway looking upward. But for some unknown reason the film makes one of what quickly become a stream of awkward cuts between scenes and the film starts to show its hand and strip away the ambiguity and suspense in favor of explaining everything to the viewer. A semi romance is tossed in, though mostly handled wonderfully, a few more scenes of visual action instead of the guessing game previously used, and slightly puzzling dinner and train scenes feel incredibly out of place. Now Wilder or Hitchcock attempt to salvage things by having Wright seemingly abandoned by her love interest, keeping the audience on their toes and wondering if Mr. Graham was just leading her along to help with the case, but then he is simply thrown back in at the end to allow for the final monologue to cap off the film. Sure this scene is brilliant and reestablishes the theatrical and poetic aspects of the film, but I must wonder if the film was better off undercutting most of what comes before just to finish on this philosophical note.

However, in the end the film is still a near masterwork and certainly a cut above the other Hitchcock film I have watched. When everything that has come before is so near flawless I can hardly fault a jarring finale, especially when the film actively makes an attempt to atone for these mistakes even in the way the final few scenes are handled. Shadow of a Doubt is a complex, compelling, and suspenseful film that showcases why Alfred Hitchcock is one of the best filmmakers of all time, and the inclusion of Wilder in the script writing process adds a philosophical layer to the film that results in far more than a simple genre film. The film is not without its flaws, but it is one Hell of a ride that has me excited to dive deeper into Hitchcock's stable of films.

A or 4.689825738056123576230981

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

Meet The New Boss, Same As The Old Boss

Ikiru (To Live) (Kurosawa, 1952)

The Kurosawa marathon continues with the 1952 film Ikiru (To Live). Now because I know little about Kurosawa outside of what I saw in Rashomon I have to wonder if this film is any indication of what types of films are to come in the future from the acclaimed director. Sure Rashomon started getting all philosophical at the end, but Ikiru starts things off with a metaphoric bang as we quickly learn the circumstances and are introduced to our protagonist. Given the film's description on the Netflix packet I had little idea of what the film would consist of aside from a man trying to build a park, but little did I know just how deceptive such a description is in the film's larger context.

Speaking of larger context let's start pretty broad and begin narrowing things down from there. Kurosawa turns in another fantastic effort behind the camera and, in some ways even more than Rashomon, makes for a visually compelling film. Seeing how differently he handles shots in a larger and congested city as opposed to the tangled forests was interesting and really gave the film its own stylistic feel while keeping with elements that are quickly becoming Kurosawa trademarks. Once again seeing the influence that the man has had on future films is near unmistakable when watching Ikiru, but in some ways I almost felt that, as far as direction is concerned, Rashomon is just slightly stronger. However, every time I thought this we would get sequences like the playground one or the one in the bar early on. In other words, the film looks pretty damn beautiful.

So now we'll get a little more concise and focus on the acting. While the film is littered with a ton of really good performances throughout, the anchor, as the script demands, must be Watanabe. Thankfully, Takashi Shimura turns in a top notch performance that hits all of the right notes. Even if the script was horrible, the direction terrible, and the other actors particularly dreadful, I am completely confident that Shimura's performance alone would make for compelling cinema. Obviously none of that is the case though and all the surrounding elements only help to enhance his job on screen. He captures the mentality of man perfectly and seeing him develop in the face of certain death and a crumbling family life is handled masterfully, both by Shimura and Kurosawa. The performance is truly incredible and certainly had me impressed throughout the hefty two and a half hour run time.

Now the run time could have easily been a flaw, and there were one or two scenes where things slowed down a noticeable bit, but for the most part the film was paced excellently. It clearly followed a very direct Three Act structure, but age old tales have always been told about how life is, at its core, three different parts all making up a whole. I do not think it is by coincidence that Kurosawa structured the film in such a manner, and taken in context it's a truly remarkable technique. Actually, most of the artistic value of the film is handled wonderfully and just about all of the philosophical stuff is given ample attention.

The one problem I had with the film was in the bureaucratic commentary. The film starts off with a whole round about sequence of going from department to department that is used incredibly, and most of the stuff in the third act, especially the final returning to work portion, is flawlessly executed, but the theme feels a bit underdeveloped during the middle portion. Now I know this theme was not supposed to act as the backbone of this portion, but having a little more there could have really pushed the film over the top for me. When the number of successes in a film are so plentiful, as is the case with Ikiru, the one flaw tends to stand out, but as I evaluate it I am able to realize that it does not hurt the film all that much. The only other potential problem I can think of, as was the case with Rashomon, is how direct the ending is, though thankfully nothing feels rushed or forced here, so the problem here is more personal and less technical, so my supporting evidence is limited.

Ultimately, my second experience with Akira Kurosawa was similar to my first. Things start off fairly simple, but as the film builds it picks up momentum at an astounding rate and makes for an incredibly compelling film. I think the sheer amount of material here, extraneous ideas given to each individual viewer I mean, is so numerous that I need at least one more viewing to process everything, but I can say without a doubt that Ikiru demonstrates Kurosawa's versatility as a storyteller and as a director while still existing wonderfully as a narrative. Ikiru hits every note pitch perfect and has me, once again, excited to see more Kurosawa.

A[/A+?] or 4.672348239143679563159783

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

What I Read Between The Lines: Your Lies

Rashomon (Kurosawa, 1950)

It has taken me needlessly long to get started with Akria Kurosawa's films. Finally, the Filmspotting marathon that Adam and Matty are doing on the podcast has allowed me the chance to really start watching films from a man who is considered to be a master filmmaker. I'm going to skip all of the historical background and things of that nature, not that I would likely be able to offer much insight in the way of correctly placing him in his time period or alongside his contemporaries anyhow, in order to focus on my reaction to my first venture into Kurosawa's robust library of films.

Rashomon has a pretty interesting structure, following a recurring narrative that offers four different occurrences of the same event as a man is put on trial. However, these narrations are narrated by two men at a temple, so really we are hearing a story of a story, and if you take into account the fact that the film is apparently based on another story it adds another fun little layer into the mix. As for the style, it is used much to the film's benefit. Paired with meandering shots through a dreamlike, or perhaps nightmare would be more fitting, forest, the viewer is made to be swept away with each narrative as the idea of fact versus fallacy is constantly in one's mind, but hardly ever able to be discerned in any tangible fashion. Really all we know is what is shown at the Rashomon temple and that the one man is dead, everything else is open to interpretation.

Of course even the way the audience is asked to be engaged and how any individual viewer should interpret the scenario is enhanced by having a faceless inquisitor prod each of the characters to make direct appeals to the camera. The technique is really brilliant and is sure to never give away any details that may place more fact in the hands of a viewer. In a sense, the character that is being told the story by the axeman and the priest is placed in the same situation as a viewer and, towards the end, begins piecing things together on his own as any viewer of the film likely would as well. The film's construction is pretty damn masterful and thought provoking all the way up to a mostly beautiful finale.

Now I have talked all about the construction and have yet to mention the direction and the cinematography. Both are beautifully in the purest sense of the word, Kurosawa's control of the camera paired with Miyagawa's beautifully constructed scenes makes for an experience that is phenomenally striking purely from a visual level, but also one that allows the film to exist almost silently. The dialogue at points is minimal, but none of the tension is ever lost nor does the narrative ever slow down. Dialogue becomes an equal with the images, breaking the barrier between story and painting and doing it wonderfully.

Of course the film's ability to work even in elongated silent sequences, especially when most of the film is so concerned with narrating stories, is also largely thanks to the actors involved. All of the actors give spectacular performances and nothing less than a solid performance can be found. However, mixed in with a slew of really good performances, two particular ones stand out as incredibly impressive. Toshiro Mifune turns in a wonderfully maniacal effort as the bandit Tajomaru, categorized by a signature cackle that embodies the best and the worst of the human experience, while Machiko Kyo is phenomenal as Masako Kanazawa, the wife of the murdered man. Both show an impressive range and turn in riveting performances in their respective roles, but the one scene that really sold it for me is how both act in the axe man's tale. Both interact with each other wonderfully without Mifune or Kyo losing anything to the other.

I have very few gripes with the film. The picture is perfectly paced and sustains its running time nicely, clocking in around 88 minutes. The one part that struck me as odd, though not really a flaw in the film I would say, was the conclusion. I did question the priest's reaction at a pivotal point, and his change actions seemed a little forced, though they worked nicely with what Kurosawa was trying to do, which is the trade off when using characters as representations, as the case appears in the final scene. I am also still wrestling with the film's concluding message, I believe it is rather obvious and if that is true then I suppose I have a bit of a personal problem with what the film is saying rather than a technical problem. To have things end how they do after a wonderfully human and pretty nihilistic speech is delivered seems to undercut what just occurred rather than provide a juxtaposition. Still, I am aware that this problem is purely personal and not a flaw of the film.

Ultimately, I found my first experience with Kurosawa particularly impressive and I cannot wait to delve deeper into the man's body of work. Rashomon takes a seemingly simple tale, shoots it beautifully, tells a story, and then unloads a shotgun shell's worth of philosophy upon the viewer towards the end. The results are hardly painful though, the experience proves mentally stimulating and utterly flooring, capturing the mentality of a lone bowling pin in the ninth frame. I look forward to hearing Adam and Matty discuss the film on the podcast this week and am positive that this marathon is going to be spectacular.

A/A+ or 4.76827914623149236452397856

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

To Share On Our Journey With All Of Mankind

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (Algar, Geronimi, Kinney, 1949)

Thus far, the theme of this marathon for me can be summed up in one word: discovery. Whether discovering great new films like Melody Time or Song of the South, rediscovering and being able to notice what is so great about Bambi, or discovering that I was never off the mark to begin with, ala Fantasia, I can say with confidence that I have discovered a good amount by revisiting the Disney Animation Stuido's compendium. So it is only fitting that this next film is one that basically allows for all types of discovery.

I have come across a film that, for all intents and purposes, should be very close to my heart. When I went to Walt Disney World as a child my favorite ride was always Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. Then it was shut down and my spirit was crushed like Smarty Jones's hopes at a triple crown after losing the final race. Despite loving the ride, I had never watched The Wind in the Willows short that gave rise to this attraction. On the other side, I had, and likely still do have, a VHS copy of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and I watched it about once a week as a younger child. Still, it has been years since I have watched that short film and I like to think that my tastes have refined a bit since then.

Oddly, after spending some time with the film, and taking a day or so to reflect on what exactly I had just watched, I found that my expectation, that I would be able to confidently say that Ichabod makes for the better segment, is mostly wrong. So that brings me to The Wind and the Willows. Starting off like a simple story, which splendid narration to boot, once the introductions are finished and we get straight into the characters actually being characters the film picks up considerably. The animation is really nice and a number of the shots are absolutely brilliant, but the strength comes in the voice acting. Comedy hits just about every time it is used and the performances from each actor make for some really entertaining dialogue.

Along with the dialogue, the music is really integrated into the story pretty well and is a nice precursor to the more modern Disney musicals and less like the classics. The action sequences are pretty thrilling as well and then there is the whole commentary on the justice system that is juxtaposed beautifully with the comedic world. It's a really carefully constructed film that is a blast to watch and I can certainly see myself revisiting this one in the future to see not only how well it holds up to repeat viewings, but to also see what other subtleties I may have missed. Not to mention that the characters are just fun.

Jumping from fun, or as fun as a bunch of weasels getting drunk can be, to the more macabre, we hop across the pond for a bit of American fiction. Much like The Wind in the Willows, the narration here is pretty fantastic and, I would contest, is what saves the film from being pretty bad on numerous occasions. The character animation, aside from Crane, is pretty standard, and the scenes leading up to the party are all downright ugly, it's like Disney forgot how to draw. The music is good throughout, but that's mostly Crosby's doing as it really never really separates from the story telling quality into the film story that The Wind in the Willows employs, and the story is a personal favorite so I cannot complain there, but I would have liked it more if the film had actually broken the narrative aspect and simply introduced the characters and started developing them a bit, like the characters in the Mr. Toad tale.

Unlike in the Mr. Toad story, here I felt like I would be just as well off reading the Sleepy Hollow tale. Up until the party and chase sequence though the film is simply passably watchable and proves to be the lowest point of the film as a whole. However, the party until the film's end is absolutely brilliant and because the story is so short it makes it worth watching.


Ultimately, this film is nothing more than a standard package film without too much depth, aside from the commentary in the Mr. Toad story and the animation toward the end that makes for a truly diabolical Sleepy Hollow tale. I could see myself listening to Crosby's songs on my downtime, but I can see that with a ton of Disney films, so despite him having a really good voice and helping to make what could otherwise be a dull film watchable until it picks up I do not think that is enough for me to say that the Ichabod Crane adventure is anything special. Actually, as a whole I do not think that the film is anything special and, taking it as a package film, Disney could hardly end on a higher note than Melody Time, but for an enjoyable watch that is a tad above pretty good, this film succeeds.

I should also state that, unlike Fun and Fancy Free, the pacing here is brilliant and neither segment overstays nor under stays its welcome. Sadly, this also means we lose out on those hysterical puppets, but at the expense of a better film, so I guess it all works out. I suppose that's it for the package films. My floors are dirty...bring on Cinderella!

C/C+ or 3.2723786978156217956231

The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad achieves a 7.9 out of 17, with 0 being Fantasia, 8 being my recollection of another specific film in this marathon that will be revealed when it has been watched, and 17 representing how great Hercules is based on my most recent watching, which was likely over the summer, or winter break.

Currently in the marathon the rankings go as...

1. Bambi - (16.3/17)
2. Song of the South (16.3/17)
3. Dumbo - (14.9/17)
4. Pinocchio - (13.3/17)
5. Melody Time - (10.5/17)
6. Make Mine Music - (8.2/17)
7. The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad - (7.9/17)
8. Saludos Amigos - (7.7/17)
9. The Three Caballeros - (6.66/17)
10. Fun and Fancy Free - (5.5/17)
11. Snow White - (2.5/17)
12. Fantasia - (0/17)

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.

Hear the Rhythm and Rhyme? It's Melody Time!

Melody Time (Disney, 1948)

Plowing through the marathon we come across what I assume to be the last of the package films from Walt Disney, Melody Time and The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad. I have yet to watch the latter, though I watched the Sleepy Hollow short many times as a child and am mostly confident in saying that Melody Time is the final of the psuedo-Fantasia films for quite a while. Now I also do not usually have a mind to give things away before writing up my reviews, but my feelings about the atrocity that is Fantasia are well noted so I think that it should come as no surprise when I say that Melody Time, a film consisting of six short films all paired with songs ala Make Mine Music, is worlds above that instrumental insult of a film.

However, what came as a surprise to me was the fact that Melody Time is not only worlds above Fantasia, but it is considerably better than any of the package films of the same type to precede it, excluding Song of the South obvious, even the incredibly surprising Make Mine Music. The common complaint against Make Mine Music was the presence of at least three subpar sketches as well as animation that simply was left over from Fantasia. Now I have contested that in my marathon post about that film, but what I found incredibly striking about Melody Time is that is seems to be a direct response to both Fantasia and Make Mine Music. None of the segments here are anything worse than pretty good, the animation, especially of water, is incredible, and it even has segments succeed that lean more toward the instrumental side of things. My praise of Make Mine Music as being everything that Fantasia should be may have been a bit hasty as I am now fully able to proclaim Melody Time as the best representative of what Walt Disney was attempting to capture during this time in his career. Sure it sacrifices a majority of what made Make Mine Music so diabolical, but who gives a damn? It succeeds at just about everything and makes for a compelling and fun watch.

Now let's break down segments. Things kick off rather quietly with the "Once Upon a Winter Time" short that features a couple ice skating while two rabbits imitate them. Kind of cutesy and lovely and stuff like that all paired with a nice song about how great December is courtesy of Frances Langford. Then shit starts to get real! Lyrics are abandoned as the instruments pick up and make for a thrilling action piece that never overstays its welcome and always is progressing. It all wraps up nicely and really serves as an excellent starting point because it shows the film's ability to blend both the lyrical with the musical. Now it is followed up with a full on instrumental nightmare entitled "Bumble Boogie," but the segment actually works because the instrumental is so powerful and fast paced while the segment is rather short. It's a pretty nice trip too that rivals "Elephants on Parade" from Dumbo as one of the best uses of imagination thus far.

Yet the film does not settle for instrumentals and changes paces rather nicely to the lyrically driven "Johnny Appleseed" segment which, just a side note here, features a word that I will be integrating into my daily vocabulary, "applesass." The overt Christian references in this one would probably make even the most radical televangelist blush, but they are not a huge problem and add to the whole blind devotion thing that the tall tale relies on to explain part of Johnny's reasoning. It's pretty quickly paced and mighty pretty to look at, but the stand out comes at the end and how the film handles Johnny's passing. The final few scenes are beautifully handled and simply engaging cinema. You think Up handles death nicely? Well does that film ever tell an old man with the mind of a child that his corpse is a husk? I thought not! Diabolical Rating: SATANTENSE!


Things get toned down a bit from there, only slightly though, when the "Little Toot" segment begins taking over. It starts off feeling slightly like an aquatic version of the plane part from Saludos Amigos, but the song is actually really charming and the devilish antics of Little Toot are pretty much established from the beginning. His story is pretty predictable, but it's still a joy to watch play out and the animation here is probably the second best of the entire film. The waves during the rescue scene are simply stunning and it is really hard not to get caught up in the adventures of the tiny tug boat. You really are a Big Toot now Little Toot! Probably the most 'cartoony' of all the segments, but still a joy to watch.

Next the film starts to speak to the poet inside of me, in fact it sings to the poet inside me. "Trees," sadly not "The Trees" by Rush, is sang along to some orchestra playing along as we watch trees change through the seasons. Is this where Malick gets his nature fetish? Probably not, but the animation of the title figures are pretty fucking marvelous and, paired with the poem, make for one of the most beautiful and powerful segments in the entire piece. I may even go as far as to call this my favorite segment. The images used are fantastic and the various types of animation are superbly handled, clearly a ton of time and love went into the crafting of this segment. It's truly an artistic accomplishment on par with Bambi as far as Disney animation in the marathon so far is concerned.


The last two segments I imagine people will have trouble with if they are cynical and pessimistic bastards because one is probably a scrapped segment from The Three Caballeros and the other has a lot of live action at the beginning, but I think both are pretty great. The first segment, "Blame It On The Samba," is once again pretty visually stunning and mighty fun. The way the lady swirls in alcohol is cool as well, I liked that a ton because it's like the film is saying drink, dance, and find pretty girls. It's a fun segment with a fun song. I was also a pretty big fan of the closing "Pecos Bill" segment because, aside from the really entertaining live action, the tall tale is interesting and the animation is fun, plus it tells a full story, which is refreshing in a segmented film. The idea of American mythology is really interesting to me as well, reminds me of Greek myths except they are representing the USA, so that kicks ass. USA! USA! USA! It's a great way to close out the film.

Melody Time truly is the culmination of the package films to come before it and it does just about everything spectacularly. Not only is the film leaps and bounds ahead of Fantasia, but it's really so far ahead of the best of these films that I cannot help but be impressed. While there may be questions of the validity of these films in the Disney marathon or if what Walt tried to do was worth all the effort and the years of 'sub par' films, I think that Melody Time truly shows that he was on to something and that the experimentation, both the successes and failures during this time, were incredibly worth while. One of the most entertaining and enjoyable films in the marathon thus far and a perfect way to close out the musical package films.

B+ or 3.998234812370482157801

Melody Time achieves a 10.5 out of 17, with 0 being Fantasia, 8 being my recollection of another specific film in this marathon that will be revealed when it has been watched, and 17 representing how great Hercules is based on my most recent watching, which was likely over the summer, or winter break.

Currently in the marathon the rankings go as...

1. Bambi - (16.3/17)
2. Song of the South (16.3/17)
3. Dumbo - (14.9/17)
4. Pinocchio - (13.3/17)
5. Melody Time - (10.5/17)
6. Make Mine Music - (8.2/17)
7. Saludos Amigos - (7.7/17)
8. The Three Caballeros - (6.66/17)
9. Fun and Fancy Free - (5.5/17)
10. Snow White - (2.5/17)
11. Fantasia - (0/17)

Comments are welcome and, for anyone with a literary mind, I encourage checking out my poetry blog filled with all original works for your reading pleasure.

Also I am on the old Twitter thing so I guess you can follow me at twitter.com/FLYmeatwad.