Movie: Fantasia (1940)

Fantasia and the “Disney Acid Sequence”

Fantasia image

Fantasia is an interesting film because it was created at a time when film was highly experimental and the sky seemed the limit on what new genres of art would be created by the technology of moving pictures. Fantasia imagines what the symphony of the future might look like: instead of going to the philharmonic, you might go to a movie that functioned as a concert that combined imagery with musical performance. Combining animation and song had long been a staple of early animation and film and still is, but it usually came in the form of short, humorous musical segments rather than a full-length, two-hour “concert.”

Fantasia consists of seven animated segments visualizing Classical, Romantic, and Modernist music, interspersed with stylized live-action sections introducing the conductor, the orchestra, and the various pieces of music. Each of the animated segments has its own style and mood, ranging from purely abstract (Toccata and Fugue) to concrete imagery without much story (Nutcracker Suite) to a coherent story (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice) but overall the art style from segment to segment is coherent enough that moving from one piece to the next isn’t too jarring. The result is a work of art and beauty that’s truly an experience to watch.

Fantasia didn’t turn a profit, but it got a second life when the psychedelic aesthetic came into vogue because, frankly, the visuals of the movie can be quite trippy, featuring dancing mushrooms and flowers, hippos and ostriches doing ballet, Dionysian orgies, and brightly-colored circles and lines moving across the screen in ways that, when combined with music, seem oddly… threatening at times? It seems that music plus the combination of drawn art and movement that animation consists in can become a quite trippy experience, especially as the art becomes more abstract/experimental or less photorealistic. This phenomenon is captured fairly well by the concept of the Disney Acid Sequence.

It’s important to note that sequences where the animation becomes detached from reality don’t necessarily indicate that the characters are under the influence of mind-altering drugs, that the animators are under the influence of mind-altering drugs, or that the viewer has to be under the influence of mind-altering drugs in order to appreciate them. In fact, I think the opposite is true in all cases:

First, while it’s true that the art style suddenly getting weird can be an effective way to indicate an altered mental state visually — see: the drunk “Pink Elephant” hallucinations of Dumbo — they are just as often used in non-altered state scenarios such as daydreaming or to indicate someone is relating a tale/fantasy (where an art style change is used to indicate a story-within-a-story). So the narrative purpose of Disney Acid Sequences extend far beyond just the depiction of altered mental states and include things like nested storytelling.

Pink Elephant sequence from Dumbo

The Pink Elephants sequence is an example where a change in art style is used to convey altered mental states and dreaming.

Disney Acid Sequence example #1.

However, Disney Acid Sequences can be used to depict lucid mental states. For example, “You’re Welcome” from Moana uses stylized animation/art to convey a story-within-a-story. “Sing, Sweet Nightingale” departs from realistic art to convey Cinderella’s daydreaming.

Second, in terms of what’s happening on the animators’ side, it’s true that the end results of art style experimentations frequently look very trippy. However, the motivation for making them is much more mundane: it’s just normal artistic/creative experimentation. A Disney Acid Sequence may be a great excuse to do a loving pastiche of a particular art style, for example.

Disney Acid Sequence example 2

In addition to conveying daydreams, the “A Girl Worth Fighting For” segment from Mulan is an excuse to have the animation imitate Chinese ink wash and calligraphy, while the “Almost There” segment of Princess and the Frog pastiches the look of art deco advertising. Image credits: Calligraphy; painting by Shen Zhou. Art deco poster, Rolls-Royce ad

Finally, so-called Disney Acid Sequences are often the most fun and entertaining musical segments of a Disney movie in a way appreciable to everyone, not just the stoned, because of the amount of care, creativity, and art-style homage that may be put into them, and because stylized, non-photorealistic art styles are just… really cool to look at! This is not strictly a Disney Acid Sequence, but some of my favorite credit sequences are the credits for WALL-E and Ratatouille because of the stylized visuals and visual storytelling. (Try to name all the art styles featured in the WALL-E credits!)

Anyway, this is all to say that the whole of Fantasia is a Disney Acid Sequence, and that is what makes the film stupendous to watch (no drugs needed!).

Fantasia 2000

While originally Fantasia was intended to be a movie continually re-released with updated/shuffled segments, in fact it would not get an update until around 60 years later with Fantasia 2000. While this sequel to Fantasia certainly kept the bold, experimental spirit of the original, it falls short in terms of artistic achievement / the quality of final product. As a result, it is a bit of a disappointment to watch.

Core to both the creative energy and the disappointing results is the use of computer-generated (CG) animation. Experimenting with this (at the time) emerging technology and combining it with traditional animation was bold, putting the movie’s animation at the intersection of art and cutting-edge technology. However, CG animation at the time was still pretty crude and had not caught up to the visual standards of hand-drawn animation. Even now, even though CG animation has gotten much more fluid and visually impressive, the ability of CG animation to portray the non-photorealistic and/or abstract styles best exemplified by the “Disney Acid Sequence” is still limited when compared to hand-drawn animation, and often needs to be combined with hand-drawn animation in order to achieve the same level of quality.

In any case, while there was clearly effort and artistic vision put into Fantasia 2000, the technology wasn’t ready (and perhaps still is not ready) to rise to the level of the stunning visuals of the original. The idea was sound, however, and I hope that Disney plans to continue to update Fantasia and its type of musical/visual storytelling as the technology gets yet more mature.

(There are of course many more examples of beautiful stylized animation both inside and outside of Disney. Just a short list of examples I’ve encountered: Destino’s Dali-inspired art, the storybook art of The Tale of Princess Kaguya, a film about Vincent van Gogh done in the style of his paintings, and the look of Into the Spider-verse inspired by comic books and pop art.)

Unfortunately, the dream of Fantasia becoming the future of the symphony didn’t really pan out — but if you go to the symphony, they will sometimes make use of picture screens, so that at least has come true.

Movie: For Whom the Bell Tolls (1943)

Hemingway was an “active intellectual”; he noticed whenever something was happening anywhere on earth, was instinctively attracted to that place, and actually went there. He was sent to France as a correspondent for the North American Newspaper Alliance. For Whom the Bell Tolls is a novel by Hemingway published in 1940 that depicts the Spanish Civil War (the battle between the fascist army led by Franco’s military authorities and the guerrilla army that opposed them) that was happening in the 1930s; it is told through a fictional American character who assisted the anti-fascists. This movie is the 1943 film adaptation of this novel. Gary Cooper, a close friend of Hemingway’s, was entrusted to the role after starring in A Farewell to Arms (1932), and Ingrid Bergman performed María, the protagonist’s lover.

The monarchy was overturned in Spain in 1931, and a Republic based on a constitution was established; however, the government was unstable, and soon after the military coup d’état attempt in 1932, Spain fell into a state of chaos. The official Spanish Civil War was from 1936 to 1939; this movie depicts 1937. This was not a simple civil war; volunteer armies from the Soviet Union, Mexico, and other nations supported the Republicans, while the fascists led by military leaders such as General Franco got support from Japan, Germany, Italy, and Portugal. The powers were quite evenly matched, and it is said that at least 500,000 people died in battle. The movie depicts the interaction between the partisans/guerillas of the Republican faction, who are holed up in the mountains in the Segovia province near Madrid, and the protagonist—an American professor of Spanish and explosives specialist—who assists the guerrillas under the instructions of a Soviet Union commander. The bombers of the Italian army (an army Hemingway once supported) attacking the mountain in which the American protagonist is hiding demonstrates the change in Italy over the last 20 years.

Returning to discussing the movie, when this movie was being made, many top actresses in those days expressed interest in the role of María, but in the end, a ballerina who did not have much acting experience was chosen. When filming began, the director was unsatisfied with her acting ability. It is said that before being fired from the role as María, she quit and gave up the role; Ingrid Bergman, who Hemingway was hoping for, was hurriedly chosen from the auditions, and the scenes with María were reshot. Ingrid Bergman said something like the following on this situation:

“The reason the ballerina gave up the role of María voluntarily is that the role of María is demanding; she has to go up and down cliffs where the caves are, and the ballerina was afraid she would injure her legs during filming. After all, the legs are most important for a ballerina, much like how the face is most important for an actress, I think.”

With her casual comment, she aptly says how “looks” were the most important thing in Hollywood in those days. It’s no wonder that Hollywood movies in the 1950s or earlier were little more than elementary school plays performed by handsome men and beautiful women.

Today, of course, there are some actors such as Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt, or Tom Hanks who are primarily chosen for their popularity and, if they accept the role, will receive a performance fee of multi-million (!) dollars unconditionally. But nowadays, the criteria for selecting an actor often seem to be, “How well can they perform the role realistically?” In this sense, what are most important are the background of the actor and their acting ability to realistically express the character’s historical context, age, personality, and ethnicity. Also, since filmmaking is a team project, they must be a team player who gets along with everyone, healthy, punctual, and professional so as to not waste other people’s time. Since “time is money,” you can’t waste time.

Actresses of the same generation as Ingrid Bergman include Vivien Leigh, Olivia de Havilland, Joan Fontaine, Jennifer Jones, and Loretta Young, and these women came before Hollywood’s flowers, such as Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe, and Elizabeth Taylor. These actresses of Ingrid’s generation died young and had short-lived activity as actresses, but Ingrid Bergman continued working as an actress up until she died in the 1980s, and kept her reputation as a great actress until she died. Therefore, she was an actress with more than just a beautiful face.

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Movie: The Third Man (1949)

After watching The Third Man—considered to be an immortal work that will remain in film history—a quiet laugh built up inside me, and the thought that remained was, “Ah, I watched the most overrated movie in film history.” Of course, I can imagine this movie being considered to be an absolute masterpiece from the time it was made until about 30 years later. However, I think the reason this movie was considered to be a “masterpiece” is because the techniques and methods used—which were novel for the time this movie came out—surprised the audience, resulting in surprisingly high praises. This movie certainly used novel techniques—such as different filming angles, and extreme contrast between light and dark—that weren’t used at all in the 1940s. But these techniques were exhaustively imitated by younger moviemakers, and these “novel techniques” gradually became “classic,” “mainstream,” and eventually “old-fashioned”; therefore it is no longer interesting to watch a movie like this today. The techniques may have been interesting at that time, but the story is not interesting, and the underlying “concept” of the movie is superficial. I wish to write a little about this point.

The setting is after World War II, when Austria’s capital Vienna was split into four parts, ruled by four different countries—the U.S., Britain, France, and the Soviet Union. American pulp writer Holly Martins, upon being offered a job from his childhood friend Harry Lime, arrives in occupied Vienna. When Martins visits Lime’s residence, he is informed by the doorman that Lime died in a car accident. Martins attends Lime’s funeral service, where he meets Major Calloway of the British army; Martins learns from the Major that Lime traded goods through the black market and was being watched by the police. Also, Martins is attracted to the beautiful actress Anna Schmidt, who was Lime’s lover and at the funeral.

Suspicious-looking men—such as a baron who claims to have been Lime’s friend, a mysterious Romanian businessman, and a shady doctor—appear in front of Martins, who is trying to find out the truth about Lime’s death. Although there should have only been the baron and the Romanian man at the scene of the accident, Martins is told by the doorman there was actually—in addition to Lime’s two friends— an unknown “third man” at the scene of the accident. However, the doorman, who is going to give a critical testimony, is killed, and Martins is suspected as the killer.

In order to say why this movie is old, I will take figure skating as an example. Swedish Ulrich Salchow, who is considered to be a legendary skater in skating history, did the single rotation Salchow jump for the first time in history in 1909. American Theresa Weld was the first female skater to succeed with the single Salchow jump in 1920. Today, since the Salchow jump is a jump that naturally utilizes the body’s momentum, its degree of difficulty is considered to be low for a jump. In fact, American Timothy Goebel was the first male skater to succeed with the quadruple Salchow jump in 1998, while Japanese Miki Ando was the first female skater to succeed with the quadruple Salchow jump in 2002. Today, skaters don’t earn points for doing a single Salchow jump at an international competition. However, this does not diminish Ulrich Salchow’s greatness. The jump that Ulrich Salchow did in 1909 was miraculous in those days, and people who wanted to catch up to and surpass him then polished and improved his jump; thus, figure skating was able to develop.

We could say the same thing about The Third Man. Many moviemakers were clearly inspired by the new filming techniques. However, all concrete things can be imitated by other people. Moviemakers constantly study masterpieces made by their seniors, and they are always on the lookout for anything that they can incorporate. While these images were novel at that time, they have become stale from constantly being copied. So happens with movies. The important thing is to have an abstract “concept”—which cannot be copied perfectly even if you try to copy it—behind the images that can withstand the change in times. The Third Man unfortunately does not have an enduring concept.

The Third Man is supposedly a mystery, but it is obvious who the “third man” is from the beginning. Moreover, after finishing this movie, there are too many plot holes that cannot be explained. Why did Lime summon Martins—a friend he hasn’t seen in 20 years—from America? Why didn’t Major Calloway, who had the authority to investigate, confirm whether the dead body in the coffin was really Lime? Because Anna appears to believe her lover just died—even though she should have looked at his dead body—was she involved in the scheme? Who killed the man in the coffin? Who killed the doorman? The scene where Martins gives a lecture seems to be completely pointless—what possible significance does it carry? We patiently follow this and that development, but at the end, feel forsaken when left with a pile of unexplained things.

This movie uses the city of Vienna as a very attractive backdrop. I think being divided into four parts and controlled by foreign powers is a difficult situation, but because this movie is depicted from the viewpoint of the victorious nation Great Britain, it completely ignores the gloom and frustration of the Viennese citizens; it only depicts taking precautions against the intrusive Soviet Union headquarters. Also, Anna Schmidt, who is supposed to be extremely beautiful, did not impress me with her looks. As mentioned earlier, it remains a mystery whether or not she participated in Lime’s crimes. Because nothing is depicted about her character, I don’t know what kind of person she is.

Originally, it seems that the set up was that Martins and Lime are both Brits, and that in the last scene, similarly British Major Calloway watches as Martins and Anna walk away down a boulevard together, lightly arm-in-arm. However, in the process of production, Martins and Lime were changed to American, and Martins was changed into a slightly clueless American who can’t read the situation, and is rejected by Anna at the end of the movie. This ending scene is known to be “an amazing scene that will remain in movie history,” but since I can’t understand what kind of person Anna Schmidt is, I was not deeply moved. The movie depicts only Martins’s one-sided affections and not Anna having mutual feelings. Also, her switching to a new man just after her own man died would have come off as shameless; plus, if she did have a hand in the crime, it would be unsavory for her to clutch a new man’s hand with her bloodstained one. Therefore, the last scene of the two not getting together is a natural conclusion. This scene does not seem like one particularly worth mentioning. Is it really so painful that these two don’t end up together?

The theme song played with the zither—an Austrian musical instrument—was a huge hit, and it came to be considered, “a wonderful theme song that will remain in movie history,” but this song is a very cheery and optimistic song. Given the historical context of the suffering and gloomy society that is occupied by foreign countries, and since, in addition to the four people who are killed in this movie, countless babies died due to Lime’s crimes, you would think this movie would be a dark movie; but in fact, this movie, which is depicted from the viewpoint of an occupying nation, is a cool, light romance between a cool man and beautiful woman. The lightness of the theme song matches the lightness of the movie. The most important thing to the movie is how cool Martins and Lime look. In short, this is a not very convincing love story between two dandies and a beautiful woman.

To say it briefly, this movie made me tell myself, “This movie has historical value as being an important work that greatly influenced the next generation of moviemakers. But I would not join those who lightly called this an immortal masterpiece.”

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