Behind the emblematic title "One Hundred and One Dalmatians" lies one of Walt Disney's most successful and lively products: "101 Dalmatians."
There's no denying it, the great dream factory of Walt Disney made our childhood days more joyful. Mickey Mouse comics, the videotapes our parents bought to make us happy (the first they bought me was "Bambi": how much I cried!), Christmases spent in front of the television to see if any animated cartoons were on, and "Dumbo" and "The Sword in the Stone" always arrived on time. Then, growing up, we make an unforgivable mistake: we dismiss cartoons. We move on to other things, to the so-called adult films, to genres we never believed could exist (gothic horror? Who knew about it!) and the only cartoons we feel like watching are the somewhat cheeky ones, from "The Simpsons" to "South Park."
But this mistake is grave. Because it is a serious mistake to dismiss Disney cartoons as mere children's stuff. When you're little, you only see the superficial aspect of those cartoons (the laughs, the tears), you're satisfied with the little tale and you feel content. But as you grow up, you should realize that those cartoons contain something more: meaningful messages (acceptance of differences in "Dumbo," the loss of innocence in "Bambi," the trippy journeys in "Alice in Wonderland") and you should notice that often, these cartoons, contain stylistic innovations and technical refinements at times even superior to those of many acclaimed auteur films (the musical abstractions in "Fantasia" are worth as much as any film by Kubrick!). Of course, some cartoons are a bit lackluster and pale in comparison to certain masterpieces (among Disney's less successful films, the very bland "The Fox and the Hound" must be mentioned) and it's also true that in recent years the average level of cartoons has dropped a bit, despite some pleasant surprises like "Monsters Inc." or "The Incredibles."
"101 Dalmatians" is one of the best Disney films ever, because it appeals to children (the big Dalmatian dogs fascinate some elementary school kids) and it appeals to adults because it contains some scenes similar to many 'serious' films Hollywood has provided us with over many years of loyal entertainment. There's no need to retell the storyline here because everyone already knows it, just like everyone knows Cruella de Vil, one of the meanest villains in Disney history. Dressed in furs even in the middle of August, with a distinguished 19th-century cigarette holder between her lips, hair mixed between white and black, a grim gaze, and extremely thin legs. She is one of the most successful Disney self-parodies that the audience remembers: Cruella embodies all the flaws, the (very few) virtues, the similarities, and the facets of all the villains previously created by Disney. A summa, a compendium, a small graphic miracle that would even have a quite successful human characterization by Glenn Close in the mid-1990s.
All around, there's a love story between dogs and puppies, the Dalmatians that at the time sparked a real phobia, a long finale in which all the puppies are saved and brought back to London after a long chase through barns and barren fields that closely resembles the long mass escapes of some war or prison films and which, curiously, seems like a precursor to a famous film, "The Great Escape," which would only see the light two years later (who stole the idea from whom?).
But "101 Dalmatians" is also something else, something truly historic: for the first time, the xerox technical process was used, allowing for the duplication of characters. Essentially, instead of drawing 101 dogs, you would draw about fifteen and then multiply them, something that can be normally done with a computer today. An innovative technique for the time, certainly revolutionary. A modern technique that bears the name of a genius, Ub Iwerks, the most talented of all the artists in the Disney factory. He had some mishaps here and there, some personal failures, but he was a genius. And Walt knew it.
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