Fantasia 2000

In the summer of 2000, I was one of the few teenagers begging their parents to see Fantasia 2000 in IMAX.  The begging worked.  My whole family went to see 70 minutes of top-notch Disney animation set to instrumental pieces, like I had dreamed of for years.  My younger siblings seemed happy enough with the outing.  During the film, I was in awe and soaked up every image and note.  But after watching the original Fantasia for nearly fifteen years, I felt slightly let down a while after leaving the theater.

You see, the original Fantasia from 1940 was a visual masterpiece, but a financial flop.  However, give anything with the name Disney on it 60 years to ripen and it can get a sequel.  With IMAX and digital animation being the new big things, 2000 was a perfect time for Disney to finally get around to continuing Fantasia like it was intended to be.  However, most modern film goers would not be happy sitting through half an hour of an animated version of the Earth’s evolution set to Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring.  As a result, the seven new shorts that comprise Fantasia 2000 are shorter, snappier and a bit less ambitious, in my opinion.

The film starts with its most abstract short, set to Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.  It’s a colorful and energetic piece to set a tone for the rest of the film.  Then the film turns to its most surreal movement with Respighi’s Pines of Rome, where digital whales embark on an adventure in the aurora filled skies.  The film then turns jazzy with Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, depicting stylized New Yorkers, designed by caricaturist Al Hirschfeld.  Next we see the story of The Steadfast Tin Soldier set to Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major, the film’s most impressive use of digital animation.  Then we get a cute 90 second segment of Carnival of the Animals with a yo-yo flinging flamingo.  Next, as originally intended, we revisit a piece from the original Fantasia, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, starring Mickey Mouse.  Then a Donald Duck helps tell the tale of Noah’s Ark set to the tune of Pomp and Circumstance, a sure crowd pleaser for those who need something more familiar.  And the film ends on on a wonderful high note, Stravinsky’s The Firebird with a beautiful depiction of nature’s ability to carry on through the fire.

I have a fun memory from seeing Fantasia 2000 in theaters as a teen, besides my mom falling asleep during Pines of Rome.  During The Firebird, just after the lava-volcano-firebird destroys the forest, engulfs the poor little sprite and the screen cuts to black on a murderous note, a little boy somewhere in the theater shouted, “Wow! That was wonderful!”  My family and I couldn’t help but laugh.  Sure, he kind of ruined the somber moment in the movie, but to hear someone so young so moved by this film was one of the most fulfilling moments in my time going to movies.  And even with that funny memory in my head, I’m still brought to tears by The Firebird segment nearly every time I watch it.  The music combined with the beautiful animation just gets to me.

Fantasia 2000 does not forget its humble roots.  Deems Taylor’s introduction is used as the orchestra warms up.  Images throughout some of the shorts feel like descendants of their predecessors.  The clouds and beams of light in Symphony Number 5 are reminders of the opening movement in the original, Toccata and Fugue.  The Firebird number contains a menace lurking in a mountain, just as Night on Bald Mountain.  And both end on an uplifting note of life anew.

I applaud Disney’s team of animators and idealists for bringing back Fantasia. Unfortunately, I doubt there will be a third film, as much as I may wish for it.  I am one of the few that love this sort of filmmaking.  But I’m happy that I was around for the last hurrah.  I may have been the happiest teenager who got to see this in an IMAX theater.  Today I own this film on Blu-Ray, and regularly use it to lull my son to sleep.  Pines of Rome usually gets his eyes drooping every time.  And if he’s still awake during Carnival of the Animals, we can’t help but dance together.

“What would happen if you gave a yo-yo to a flock of flamingos?  ….Who wrote this?”

Fantasia

Fantasia is one of my all-time favorite films, and I believe it is the crown jewel of all animation.  As a kid, I rewound its VHS tape over and over so much that the Night on Bald Mountain sequence is more warped and scratched up than the rest of the tape.  Now, I’m just a big kid, watching it on Blu-ray and usually moved to tears a few times before the end.  The mix of stunning animation and beautiful music is still astounding over seventy years later.

For anyone unfamiliar with the concept of Fantasia, it is all explained.  The film begins with the screen opening to an empty orchestra.  Slowly the musicians go to their seats, their silhouettes dancing on the blue screen behind them.  We hear a few warm up, play a few notes, tune their instruments.  The light reflects off and seems to illuminate the instruments as they play, with warm colors.  I always had this idea of the musicians bringing their instruments to life at this point.

Deems Taylor enters and explains that what we are about to see is a new form of entertainment where the artists (not musicians) have developed images and stories inspired by music.  There will be three types of music: the kind that tells a definite story (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice), the kind with “more or less definite pictures” but no sustainable plot (The Nutcracker Suite), and “music that exists simply for its own sake” called absolute music (Toccata and Fugue).

Then the fun begins, and we are sent on a musical journey, conducted by Leopold Stokowski.  It starts out slow, taking a while to move away from the musicians playing, then onto abstract colorful images set to Toccata and Fugue.  The Nutcracker Suite shows a beautiful twist on nature, featuring a variety of dancing flowers and glowing fairies who change the seasons.  The Sorcerer’s Apprentice features Mickey Mouse, and is usually the most recognizable sequence.  The Rite of Spring shows the scientific journey through evolution on Earth, up through the dinosaurs.  We are shown a scene full of mythological creatures in Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony, The Pastoral.  Dance of the Hours becomes a comic ballet with ostriches, hippos, elephants and alligators.  And the finale brings the forces of light and darkness together in beautiful balance in the spooky Night on Bald Mountain, followed by the uplifting Ave Maria.

Between the musical numbers are introductions and fun moments.  During the intermission, we watch the musicians walk off the stage, and come back afterward.  They have a bit of fun, starting an impromptu jazz session, showing that they don’t always have to play classical.  After the intermission, we are introduced to The Soundtrack, a simple visual representation of various instruments, with a slightly shy personality.

Walt Disney was over ambitious with Fantasia and intended it to be like going to the symphony and hoped to add on new sequences every year.  He even played with the idea of releasing scents into the theaters to correspond to different moments in the film.  Unfortunately, the film flopped financially and gained popularity in the late 60’s.

Fantasia is a unique film experience.  Its blend of music, movement and color were revolutionary at its release and still captivate viewers today.  For those who enjoy classical music, Fantasia is a must see.  For those who seem skeptical of beautiful animation set to symphonies, keep an open mind and let yourself become immersed in the music and images on the screen.  Though my Blu-ray gives me plenty of enjoyment at home, Fantasia is the one film I would most love to experience in a theater.

“Go on. Go on; drop the other shoe, will you?”

Amadeus

Most people can name a few key composers; Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, some may toss in Wagner.  However, few people have an interest in classical music.  To make a film about an 18th century composer is almost certain financial destruction, unless it has a rambunctious and saucy energy like Amadeus.  Nearly three hours of powdered wigs and composing symphonies would not be met with happy modern faces, unless Mozart was a man we could love and identify with.  Most viewers will love him, not because of his dedication to finishing his Requiem or his stunning operas, but because he can giggle like a mad man, crawl on the floor after busty women and wear a pink powdered wig like he’s a rock star with true musical genius.

The film, directed by Milos Forman, is told in flashback, narrated by Antonio Salieri (F. Murray Abraham), old and confined to an asylum.  All his life, he wanted to be a great composer, “All I ever wanted was to sing to god.”  He works dutifully, sacrificing all other things in his life just to write great music that will make him immortal, but with his keen ear Salieri knows he’s mediocre at best.  Before he meets Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Tom Hulce), he has already heard of his grand reputation.  To his dismay, Salieri first sees this young musical genius giggling, crawling under tables and talking about farting backwards.  Recognizing the grandeur of Mozart’s music, Salieri is filled with envy and rage to see that this “vulgar creature” has such tremendous and natural talent for writing music.  What boils him over is how carefree Mozart can write these amazing symphonies so easily and joyfully.  Salieri then dedicates himself to destroying Mozart’s career.

The kicker to Salieri’s dastardly plot is that Mozart innocently considers Salieri a colleague and friend until the very end.  As he struggles financially, finding pupils to teach and getting his new operas to the stage, he confides in Salieri, respecting his work and opinions in their field.  Of course, the miserable Salieri enjoys this irony and uses it to his advantage, scaring Mozart with images of his domineering father and planning to take credit for his last symphony, his Requiem.

The entire film is visually beautiful in every way.  Some of these shots look like paintings you would find hanging in the Louve with the same furniture you can find there as well.  The lighting is always so rich, giving everything from the large ornate rooms to elaborate wigs and costumes such realism and depth.  And though Mozart’s apartment is modest compared to most of the other scenes, it portrays his personality and lifestyle perfectly.  The place is haphazardly cluttered, with no real thought put into where the furniture has been place.   Hands of cards are left faced up on a table, several wine glasses are scattered about and on the piano.  My favorite detail has to be that Mozart does not use a desk, but does most of his work bent over a pool table, casually rolling a ball as he writes.  The best part is that room does not look large enough to comfortably shoot pool.

Amadeus is one of those rare, stunningly beautiful films that can engage a wide audience in a subject that people normally reserved for high class intellectuals.  It’s almost like feeding the audience healthy vegetables, but they think it’s candy.  This was a joyous treat for my eyes and ears, filled with hearty laughs for my spirit and a compelling narrative for my mind.  Who could have imagined the booming depths of Mozart’s Requiem pairing so well with his giddy laughter?

“Forgive me, Majesty.  I am a vulgar man!  But I assure you, my music is not.”