"'Fantasia" will Amaze 'ya," said the marketing push behind Disney's 1940 grand experiment.
I'd say "amaze" is an under-estimation. How about stun? Enthrall? Thrill? Amuse? Terrify? How about all these things in the same movie???
"Fantasia" is one prime example of a movie that benefits from repetition. Its charms, its imaginative brilliance, its gentle humor, its artistic genius are drawn out the more it is viewed.
The "Toccata and Fugue" is an abstract dream. I love the way it subtly moves from visual literalness (colored strings and horns) to inventive fantasy.
The "Nutcracker" is both beautiful and whimsical. I can't hear the Chinese Dance without seeing that cocksure mushroom trying desperately to catch up on the dance steps of his brethren.
Beethoven's "Pastorale" has many highlights, including the Pegasus who learns to fly. I wish, wish, wish, though, that Disney's PC patrol hadn't clipped any of the centaurs (I'm against racial bias, but c'mon--how innocent can you get?).
"The Sorcerer's Apprentice" is a terrific centerpiece. I love watching Mickey wet his finger--in the middle of a maelstrom--to try to turn the page. The way the artists play with light and color make this segment truly nightmarish.
"The Rite of Spring" is amazing, especially when you consider that the artists of 1940 had to use their imagination regarding *exactly* what dinosaurs looked like (paleontology at the time being what it was).
"Dance of the Hours" is a wonderful parody of ballet that brims with laugh-out-loud moments: Ben Ali Gator riding the hippo like a merry-go-round and, later, being flattened by her tonnage.
"Night on Bald Mountain" is terrifyingly weird. The dancing harpies and ghouls are truly disturbing, and the sight of Chernobog at his most wrathful is enough to make anyone squish down in his or her theater seat just a little.
"Ave Maria" is simply gorgeous, a fitting end.
I can't help but be amazed at this film upon every viewing. It was years ahead of its time (a testament to the geniuses behind it), which explains the paltry box-office receipts. The MTV moguls should, on bended knee, thank Walt Disney and Leopold Stokowski nightly. Without their genius at marrying visuals to music, the era of vee-jays may never have come at all.
I'd say "amaze" is an under-estimation. How about stun? Enthrall? Thrill? Amuse? Terrify? How about all these things in the same movie???
"Fantasia" is one prime example of a movie that benefits from repetition. Its charms, its imaginative brilliance, its gentle humor, its artistic genius are drawn out the more it is viewed.
The "Toccata and Fugue" is an abstract dream. I love the way it subtly moves from visual literalness (colored strings and horns) to inventive fantasy.
The "Nutcracker" is both beautiful and whimsical. I can't hear the Chinese Dance without seeing that cocksure mushroom trying desperately to catch up on the dance steps of his brethren.
Beethoven's "Pastorale" has many highlights, including the Pegasus who learns to fly. I wish, wish, wish, though, that Disney's PC patrol hadn't clipped any of the centaurs (I'm against racial bias, but c'mon--how innocent can you get?).
"The Sorcerer's Apprentice" is a terrific centerpiece. I love watching Mickey wet his finger--in the middle of a maelstrom--to try to turn the page. The way the artists play with light and color make this segment truly nightmarish.
"The Rite of Spring" is amazing, especially when you consider that the artists of 1940 had to use their imagination regarding *exactly* what dinosaurs looked like (paleontology at the time being what it was).
"Dance of the Hours" is a wonderful parody of ballet that brims with laugh-out-loud moments: Ben Ali Gator riding the hippo like a merry-go-round and, later, being flattened by her tonnage.
"Night on Bald Mountain" is terrifyingly weird. The dancing harpies and ghouls are truly disturbing, and the sight of Chernobog at his most wrathful is enough to make anyone squish down in his or her theater seat just a little.
"Ave Maria" is simply gorgeous, a fitting end.
I can't help but be amazed at this film upon every viewing. It was years ahead of its time (a testament to the geniuses behind it), which explains the paltry box-office receipts. The MTV moguls should, on bended knee, thank Walt Disney and Leopold Stokowski nightly. Without their genius at marrying visuals to music, the era of vee-jays may never have come at all.