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Trapped in a state of flux after Sleeping Beauty’s failure nearly bankrupted the studio’s animation division, Walt Disney needed a hit, and he needed one badly. He also needed to find a cheaper, easier way to make a fully animated feature. In times of desperation, sometimes great things can be created, and 101 Dalmatians found the Disney studio creating back-to-back masterpieces.
Unlike the preceding Sleeping Beauty which trafficked heavily in some of the studio’s beloved practices, 101 Dalmatians feels more modern, sleek, and jazzier. Loose-limbed and more energetic than many of the previous films that studio had made, Dalmatians finally found the studio creating a more “modern” film. Granted, the Xerox process frequently caused various stray lines to emerge causing characters to occasionally look off-model or laying bare the animators’ pain-staking artistry.
More often than not, this actually improves the quality of the film. These line drawings are more spontaneous, adventurous even than the normal look of a Disney offering, which veered towards hyper-polished and glossy images that looked like they never saw a human touch in their life. Uncle Walt hated the look of the film at first, but eventually warmed up to it before his death in 1966. History has proven him wrong, as Dalmatians has become a cherished institution in the studio’s oeuvre.
If Dalmatians continues to endure and endear, much of that credit goes to Cruella De Vil, one of the more grotesque and ostentatious of the villains. Many of Disney’s films are dominated by their villains, and the tones appear to match, as if the studio knew that people came to see good versus evil, but they wanted evil to be far more enthralling before its inevitable defeat. With her continuous smoky haze hovering around her, too large fur coat, shock of two-toned hair, exaggerated angularity, and absolutely ridiculous vocal and bodily mannerisms, Cruella is a daring original. Her grand scheme is batty, but grand diva proclamations and her tour-de-force performance snatches the film away from the sexless Roger and Anita, adorable ensemble of puppies, and their heroic parents.
Strange to praise the performance of an animated character, but cinema is littered with memorable performances from animals, stop-motion puppets, special effects creations, and the like. Drawn by Marc Davis, voiced by Betty Lou Gerson (a decade after warmly narrating Cinderella, no less), based on Tallulah Bankhead, and acted out by Mary Wickes for animation reference, Cruella is so iconic and memorable a character that even the AFI couldn’t ignore her charisma. She came in as the 39th greatest villain on their list “100 Years…100 Heroes and Villains.” Her brand of evil isn’t the default state of being that Maleficent finds herself in, nor the product of ego and vanity of Snow White’s Evil Queen, or the product of enjoyment and mirth as with Ursula, no, Cruella is bad in a banal way. She wants to harm puppies for the fashion, dah-ling!
Cruella’s harsh graphics and severe contortions lay the groundwork for the rest of the film. In prior years, the backgrounds of Disney films were lush and densely created watercolor wonderlands, beautiful vistas to enjoy even if the dramatics playing out in front of them is less than stellar. Here, large splashes of color fill the background and finely inked details are drawn on top to fill in the gaps. So a tree is made up a splash of brown, a giant blob of different greens, and inked detail work laid over it all. This visual style is more engaging and sloppy, more energetic than, say, Lady and the Tramp’s warm Americana hues and textures.
Funnily enough, as a child I preferred the bland-but-pretty Lady and the Tramp to this grittier, sloppier cousin. The older I’ve gotten, the more appreciation I have for a variation of elements in 101 Dalmatians - a lack of songs, a drag queen-esque villain, frantic and distinct opening credits, a slightly different tone and story structure. Shame that this didn’t exactly point the way towards a new direction for the studio. No, the post-classical period would find the studio animators flaying about trying to keep its battered ship from capsizing. This, to me, feels like the true end of the Silver Era.
