The Reality of Wall-E

Wall-E doesn't play by the rules. I refer to Wall-E the film as opposed to Wall-E the character.

While it seems that praise has been nearly universal for this latest Pixar film, a considerable amount of dialog has emerged about what many consider the movie's somewhat odd mixture of formats. Specifically, the initial presentation of photo-realistic characters and environments, the use of live-action footage (primarily in the scenes featuring actor Fred Willard) and the somewhat dramatic aesthetic shift to the more cartoony realizations of the human beings aboard the Axiom spaceship in the film's latter half.

Noted animator and animation historian Michael Sporn noted on his blog, "I was, again, impressed with the incredible artistic abilities of the Pixar people, but I didn’t feel as though I were watching an animated film. It felt like a live action film (until the balloony fat people entered) with high effects. Perhaps that’s a positive; I’m not sure anymore. Pinocchio, Bambi, Dumbo, Snow White. These films were magic to me as a child. I imagine Wall-E is like every other effects film to today’s children. I can’t imagine it will inspire future generations to get into the field. Maybe, you never know."

I agree with Michael; very often over the course of Wall-E's 97 minutes, I completely lost the sense of this being an animated film. In fact, so immersed was I in this environment that, when EVE ignited a cigarette lighter in one of the movie's earlier scenes and my friend next to me marveled at how the flame was a simple yet amazing piece of animation, it took me a moment to understand what he was talking about. And I understand Michael's reservations as well. With much of Wall-E, Pixar has stepped beyond the very genre it has espoused and remained generally faithful to over the course of its prior eight films. They clearly decided to, in many aspects, move beyond what would be considered a traditional animated presentation. To many, especially industry professionals like Michael, it begs the question--are we watching something akin to Pinocchio or Snow White, or product more related to George Lucas' FX-driven opuses, or blue screen-filmed dynamics like Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow and 300?

I believe the answer to that question is truly rooted in the out-of-box creative approach that Pixar has long been noted for. Wall-E is unconventional. It moves beyond the unwritten but still somewhat ingrained rules of animation presentation, and does so in the service of the story it wishes to tell. I submit that the combination of the film's disjointed aesthetic dynamics was very much a deliberate choice on the part of Andrew Stanton and his team. The movie's three very distinct design approaches--photo-realistic animation, live-action actors and sets, and cartoon-based characters--are in fact integral components of the film's overall theme and story.

While Wall-E is at its heart a character-driven love story, it is played out on a thematic canvas that contrasts reality with the artificial. Robots are artificial; that is and has been a consistent truism of all entertainment media. And typically accompanying that truism is the story device of imbuing robots with sentience and emotions. But that plot dynamic is in fact not really central to Wall-E. Wall-E is introduced as a fully developed personality, not requiring a journey of self-discovery. He is a survivor very aware of his harsh reality, a being who understands concepts of loyalty and friendship, and more than anything he is a lonely dreamer yearning for companionship. Though artificial in construct, Wall-E is very real; he is not very far removed from current executions of robot-based technology, thus he is all the more believable. In turn, his native environment is equally believable; from the haunting landscapes of an abandoned and garbage-filled megalopolis, right down to his battered Rubik's Cube and comical collection of garden gnomes. The intention becomes clear, Wall-E's world is not very far removed from our own.

The establishment of Wall-E and his environment by use of photo-realistic animation then serves to contrast the film's other not so subtle overriding theme--the reverse-evolution of humanity. Closeted aboard a giant cruise ship-inspired spacecraft, the human race has wholly embraced the artificial. Theirs is an existence of commercial over-consumption, supported by an infrastructure that simultaneously exposes and insulates them from their environment and fellow beings. The physical-emotional connectivity that Wall-E so desperately desires is seemingly always within reach for the denizens of the Axiom, but ironically only occurs by accident.

In filmed entertainment, there is in fact nothing more artificial than traditional cartoon-style animation. And so we thus see that transformation of human beings in the film. Humanity, as initially represented by the very real character of Buy-N-Large CEO Shelby Forthright, portrayed by Willard, is ultimately supplanted by the very artificial and cartoon style-designed incarnations aboard the Axiom. It is an evolution that is cleverly documented via the portraits of the Axiom Captains that hang on the wall in the current ship captain's quarters. It is there in that one subtle but very important set piece that the filmmakers' aesthetic and design intentions become especially clear.

Characteristic of Pixar, it is indeed a bold move. For they in fact use the various different formats of filmed presentation in the service of storytelling and transcend the very medium they have long been associated with. In many circles, especially those within the animation industry, it will likely remain a debated and somewhat controversial topic. As strictly a moviegoer, for me, Wall-E presented a wholly new and original approach to the animation genre. We can certainly split hairs as to how we want to categorize and classify the film, but in the end, at least in my opinion, it will remain a wonderful combination of stunning visuals and heartfelt storytelling.

What's It Really Worth?

I frequently receive emails from readers that request my services as an appraiser of sorts. Many equate my knowledge and experience in matters Disney with an expertise in the valuation of Mouse-based memorabilia and collectibles. When I confess to being generally clueless in these dollars and cents determinations, I am usually met with reactions of surprise and astonishment. Similarly, when guests visit my home with its many rooms that literally overflow with Disney related items of every size, shape and description, inevitably the same question seems to always be raised at some point--"Wow, what is all of this worth?"

It is a question that has never really concerned me.

I can honestly say that I have never purchased or obtained a Disney-related item strictly on the basis of its investment potential. I certainly enjoy collecting numerous types of Disneyana--theme park souvenirs are a personal favorite, especially license plates--but never with a future monetary return in mind. My motivation for obtaining such things was and is the simple joy of possessing items I personally find fun and interesting. But also, these items represent my many passions, and even more importantly, many happy memories associated with those passions.

Wise, wise words on the subject can be found in one of my all-time favorite comic book stories, The Money Pit, released in 1990. It is an Uncle Scrooge story, and interestingly enough, it is Scrooge who dispenses said wisdom to a more greedy minded Donald Duck. When Donald attempts to negotiate payment of his meager wages in the form of rare coins buried within Scrooge's Money Bin, he invites a passionate response from Scrooge that reveals a somewhat unexpected dynamic of his uncle's perceived greediness--

Donald pointedly notes:

"Those coins aren't doing you any good, and some coin collector will appreciate them!"

To which Scrooge replies:

"That's precisely where you're wrong, nephew!"

"Coin collectors make me sick! They collect their coins only because other people put a value on them! They look their old coins up in price guides that the tell them the fool things are worth more than face value! But why?! They don't enjoy their coins! They don't dive in them like porpoises! . . . or burrow through them like gophers! . . . or toss 'em up and let 'em hit them on the head! They don't even build model forts out of 'em!

"They put their coins in plastic sleeves and are even afraid to touch them for fear they'll be worth less to somebody else! Hee hee! They spend their lives building a meaningless collection they only plan to someday sell . . . to a buyer who only plans to resell it! It's all so silly!"

Donald retorts:

"I suppose your three-acre coin collection is sane?"

To which Scrooge responds:

"The difference is that I value each and every coin as a personal memento! Nephew, I've learned to treasure that which has value to me, not to somebody else! That's what life's all about!"

Scrooge's pointed message came via well known Disney comic book scribe and artist Don Rosa. Though the story specifically targeted coin collectors, it was but a thinly veiled reference to comic book collecting (putting them in plastic sleeves and afraid to touch them) where enjoyment of a comic book's content became secondary to its collectible status and value. But the message could certainly be applied to any such medium, including Disneyana.

A Decade of Exploration and Discovery

When the Walt Disney Company announced their intentions in the mid-1990s to build a zoological-based theme park as its fourth gate at Walt Disney World, I must admit I was sufficiently underwhelmed. It wasn't exactly an original idea. Busch Gardens Dark Continent was just a hop, skip and a jump down I-4. But I kept a good thought nonetheless.

When I first visited the newly opened Disney's Animal Kingdom in the fall of 1998, my disappointment was tangible. While lushly landscaped and exquisitely themed, it remained sadly insubstantial in many ways. The Asia area was still months away from completion and the Beastly Kingdom had fallen tragically under the budget ax of a very short sighted Michael Eisner.

Years passed, and like the denizens it represents, Disney's Animal Kingdom has evolved and grown into now what I consider to be one of the shining gems of Disney theme parks. Some of my initial problems with DAK were my own decidedly misguided perceptions and expectations. It is truly a very non-traditional park that is ill served by the high speed touring plans and the uber stimulation that guests typically associate with Disney theme park experiences. E-Tickets like Expedition Everest and Dinosaur not withstanding, the central tenants of DAK are exploration and discovery. It is a place that requires a slower, more deliberate pace, for so many of its treasures are subtle in both their designs and execution. Faux-history and story permeate nearly every corner of the park, from the history and culture of Harambe, to the more light-hearted yet equally entertaining backstory of Dinoland USA.

Nearly a decade ago I found myself rushing quickly from Kilimanjaro Safaris to Countdown to Extinction to Festival of the Lion King, with little heed of the many less celebrated but still equally worthwhile features of the park. Typically by mid afternoon, my family and I were on our way to adventures in EPCOT, the Studios or the Magic Kingdom. Today I linger in places like the Pangani Forest Exploration Trail and the Maharajah Jungle Trek. I relish rather than dread a thirty minute wait for Expedition Everest so to better enjoy a true masterpiece of queue area design. I walk the Cretaceous Trail and then later note the antics of the Dino Institute interns within the walls of Restaurantosaurus. Even the much maligned Chester and Hester and their Dino-Rama tell a story both humorous and fascinating. Every visit can be an amazing journey requiring only a gentler pace and a more eager eye.

Its been a wonderful ten years of exploration. I personally look forward to a future filled with more adventure and discovery. Jambo!

Small World Reflections

I have sound, and what I consider well-thought opinions concerning the controversy that has emerged surrounding proposed changes coming to the Disneyland incarnation of it's a small world. But I will not share them in this venue. Call me coward if you will, but vultures circle on both sides of the argument and even a rational, polite and well-intentioned discourse on the subject would likely not be immune from the often uncivil and contentious dialogs that have become the hallmark of this particular debate.

But I would like to make a number of observations about the debate/discussion itself--

• When was Disney history rewritten to reflect that Mary Blair was the single creative force behind it's a small world? She has become the poster child for this anti-revisionist argument. While I have nothing but admiration and respect for Blair's artistic contributions to Disney entertainment, making her the centerpiece of this debate overstates her contributions to it's a small world and serves to diminish the efforts of the numerous other individuals also responsible for the creation and execution of the attraction. It is also important to note that Mary Blair did not conceive of the overall theme of the attraction--world unification via the spirit and voices of children--but simply the designs and visual dynamic. It can certainly be argued that character placement would run counter to the theme of the attraction, but that is an argument that doesn't really require the component of Mary Blair and her designs. Victimizing Blair and her artistry really only served to sensationalize the story.

• Creating a contemporary social and political relevance to the rain forest scene to support the anti-revisionist stance is baffling to me. There was no inherent message of conservation intended when the scene was introduced with the attraction in 1964. "Save the Rainforest" is really disingenuous. Saying it should be preserved because of its current political and social relevance, and then in the same breath saying an America scene should not be included because of its political and social dynamic, is a bit absurd.

• It's not about selling merchandise. That notion is becoming an overstated and worn out battle cry of the anti-revisionist soldiers. I'm not sure what kind of viable merchandise could be conceived from small world-themed renditions of Alice in Wonderland or Aladdin. Most children would probably reject that type of non-traditional representation of their favorite characters. As for the notion that seeing characters presented in the attraction will somehow then subliminally entice both parents and children into wanting more character-based souvenirs, well it's a pretty ludicrous supposition at best. I can't quite imagine a preschooler, after navigating through Disneyland all the way back to the small world location at the rear of the park, passing visual stimuli of characters at almost every turn, suddenly being compelled to desire plush by a blink-or-you'll-miss-it representation of Stitch or Cinderella. And let's face it, Disney doesn't discriminate when it comes to theme park merchandise. It exploits non-character based attractions every bit as much as those populated by the Disney canon. There has been small world merchandise since 1964. Alice in Wonderland, Aladdin and Cinderella are not exactly brands characteristic of high profile theme park souvenir revenue streams.

• I recently heard the argument made that characters of "fantasy" should not be included in it's a small world because it would present a thematic contradiction. Yet the attraction is located in Fantasyland in every Magic Kingdom in which it has been presented. it's a small world became a thematic contradiction the very moment it was relocated to Disneyland. But one that has been unanimously forgiven in the years since. At its heart, it is still true to its pedigree; it is a World's Fair attraction. Ironic to the argument at hand, inclusion of characters would create a link to the geography that surrounds it. Realize that that is not a personal endorsement on my part. I'm only pointing out that Disney parks have a history of thematic contradictions that date all the way back to 1955. It's a convenient card to play in this discussion but it comes with a bit of baggage.

• The proposed changes were conceived by professional artists and designers. Regardless of what your opinion is of their ideas and conceptions, they deserve, as does everyone, to be treated with courtesy and respect. Language such as idiotic, insane, crazy and even stronger euphemisms that I wish not to repeat here should not play a part in the discussion. Opinions are subjective. Provocation and name-calling only undermine the suppositions being presented and diminish the fan community as a whole.

• More than anything, I am simply dumbfounded at the treatment given to both Marty Sklar and Dave Smith, who have attempted to diplomatically address fan concerns via statements that discuss the philosophy and reasoning behind changes to Disney theme park entertainment. Again, people have allowed their passions to overcome the very simple tenants of courtesy and respect. I have seen comments directed at these two individuals that are nothing but shameful in both their tone and language.

All this being said, does it mean that the argument against changes to it's a small world is wrong and invalid? Of course not. In the end, it is a simple matter of taste and opinion. Very subjective views on a subject worthy of discussion and debate. No doubt many will perceive from these statements that I am pro-change and pro-character, a perception some will likely spin against me in comments both here and elsewhere. But please take note--I have not at any point discounted the very basic view of alterations to it's a small world being in fact problematic. At its core, it is a valid and worthy subject for debate. But I do object very strongly and passionately to the merit-less rhetoric and mean spirited and often malicious punditry that has emerged to support it.

When we as Disney fans express our dissatisfaction in such impolite and provocative ways, it only serves to diminish the very message we are attempting to communicate. When individuals such as Mary Sklar and Dave Smith unnecessarily become the objects of sarcasm and scorn, our voices of concern will be quickly dismissed despite whatever merits our views possess.

Defending the Wildcats

Yeah, it's a dirty job, but hell, somebody's got to do it.

But to my point . . .

Verdict by Internet consensus. It is one of the most troubling things about this wonderful information age we live in. Too often, a vocal, but largely minority opinion is repeated enough across the World Wide Web that it becomes a kind of dogma, despite an often questionable pedigree. Case in point--this comment by an anonymous individual in response to a recent blog post that bemoaned a perceived current creative stagnation of the Walt Disney Company:

"High School Musical, that is really pathetic. That if they even bother to look is loathed by almost everyone who is not a female within the ages of 3 to 14."

Search the Disney online community and you find similar comments and conjecture. Yes, the wildly successful High School Musical franchise has become the latest target for some of the cranky curmudgeonly of our society. It seems that when those of the mean spirited demographic run out of dogs to kick and babies to pinch, they peruse the current catalog of pop culture offerings to find a convenient "phenomenon" at which to spew their venom. It appears that in many circles, Wildcats are currently in season.

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. God Bless America. If you so desire, climb up on your soapbox in the middle of Central Park and proclaim your contempt of High School Musical to the masses. But alas, for so many, having and expressing such an opinion is simply not enough.

Validation is required. The purveyor must somehow associate that very subjective supposition with as many other individuals as possible. Hence statements such as " . . . is loathed by almost everyone who is not a female between the ages of 3 to 14."

According to who? Sorry, but I don't remember seeing that particular Gallup Poll. And the billions of dollars in revenue that these films are generating would certainly indicate an audience that extends well beyond tweens of the female persuasion.

But sadly, in this oh so pervasive age of extended information, lemmings tend to be the rule rather than the exception. Snarky is cool; cynicism is chic. In the big social picture (online or otherwise), it's likely a lot safer to bash Zac and Vanessa and company, than to at the very least admit a casual indifference. And thanks to the wealth of blogs, forums, and other outlets of Internet communication, once that bandwagon is launched, and despite the innate subjectivity of its formation, there is rarely a U-turn in its trajectory. Just ask Jar Jar Binks.

There's been a fresh round of Wildcat bashing, primarily due to the fact that High School Musical was featured prominently on the Walt Disney Company's 2008 Annual Report, and also the announcement that the films' Albuquerque, New Mexico setting would serve as the location for the company's upcoming shareholder meeting. What is especially troubling is that so much of this poisoned punditry is coming from members of the Disney faithful, those who hold the current company stewards accountable to Disney's long heritage of family-centric entertainment.

I watched the first High School Musical a little over a year ago, and I will without shame admit that I found it well produced and quite entertaining. It successfully blended a classic Hollywood musical formula with contemporary pop music and talented teen stars. While certainly hip in many ways, it also reflected a wholesome spirit and presented a somewhat surprising, albeit gentle critique of teenage social dynamics. It was certainly not everyone's cup of tea, and doubtless many parents tuned out after the first wave of multiple viewings, but a widespread consensus of "loathing" is definitely a stretch of any imagination. Last summer's High School Musical 2, while a bit disjointed and uneven at times in its approach, was by no means a cinematic train wreck, and it clearly pleased its intended audience.

I am therefore amazed when I hear self-proclaimed keepers of the Disney flame railing without mercy on what has become one of the company's greatest successes in recent memory. Many have even fallen back on the always convenient but rarely with merit "Walt theoreticals." As in "Walt would have never approved of this," or "Walt would have never allowed crap like this," and so on. To make any kind of connection between Walt Disney personally and the High School Musical franchise is ludicrous on just about any level. But there is in fact a distinct correlation between the High School Musical films, and by extension the Disney Channel programming from which they emerged, with entertainment the Walt produced and championed during his lifetime.

In the 1950s, Walt Disney served up what became a similar pop culture phenomenon to a generation of children and young teens just as eager to consume mass media entertainment as their 21st century counterparts. The Mickey Mouse Club was at that time passionately embraced by its baby boom audience much in the way that today's young people have caught Wildcat Fever. While the times, styles and sensibilities have changed, the appeal of young, talented and energetic performers to their demographic peers remains by and large timeless. In that context, it is disingenuous to suggest that the High School Musical franchise in some way represents a low point, creatively or otherwise, for the Walt Disney Company.

Many Wildcats naysayers cite the franchise's over saturation in both mass media and consumer products venues as justification for their bitterness and often malicious diatribes. But that argument serves to shine a light on an interesting bit of hypocrisy that exists in many corners of Disney fandom. For Disney's exploitation of Pirates of the Caribbean seems immune to similar criticisms, despite the fact that its exposure has been as equally far reaching as that of High School Musical, and its exploitation for financial gain has been just as intense.

So why all the fuss? If you personally don't appreciate the talented students of East High and their high spirited musical antics, that's fine. But why needlessly rain on someone else's pep rally, with over exaggerated claims that carry more malice than merit? Such remarks only serve to diminish, not elevate Disney fandom.

Revisiting the Robinsons

Six months later, and without the benefit of its truly spectacular 3D presentation, I still unequivocally love Meet the Robinsons.

I was curious if I had actually been overly influenced by those impressive three-dimensional bells and whistles. After two viewings of the film in its just-released DVD format, I can honestly say that I wasn't. As I noted in my earlier review here at 2719, Meet the Robinsons is a wholly unconventional film, especially by Disney standards. It is easily off-putting to those quickly offended by its disjointed and sometimes non-linear storytelling and its on-the-surface exaggerated archetype characters. And while it is doubtful it will ever achieve a cult-like status akin to something like The Nightmare Before Christmas, I don't believe it will be as readily dismissed as its other recent Disney animated contemporaries Treasure Planet, Home on the Range or Chicken Little.

Meet the Robinsons was painted in broad, albeit digital strokes. Characters are extreme in their qualities and eccentricities, but not necessarily defined by their archetypes. If you are quick to dismiss what seems to be Lewis' simple search for family and acceptance, or Bowler Hat Guy's overplayed villainous buffoonery, then you do a disservice to the efforts of director Stephen Anderson and his fellow talents at Walt Disney Animation Studios. For it is the very different, yet intertwined journeys of Lewis and the diminutive Mike Yagoobian that ultimately transcend and compliment what would otherwise seem a wacky time travel adventure into family dysfunction.

Dwelling on past regrets or happily embracing the future. Celebrating failure as a catalyst to success or disavowing personal responsibility to validate a miserable and failed life. These are the challenges faced by Lewis and Goob. When we are first introduced to the two friends and roommates, the contrast in their personalities is distinct. Goob speaks a disjointed stream of consciousness that reflects his dreams of a future of baseball stardom, and demonstrates a lack of focus that will prove crippling and exploitable. At the same time, Lewis displays a quiet determination in constructing his latest invention, yet is crippled himself in his perceptions of failure and lack of forward thinking.

As we witness the reverse-evolution of Bowler Hat Guy back into his original incarnation as the young Mike Yagoobian, we become aware of a complexity of character rather than an over-the-top cliched archetype. Bowler Hat Guy's villainous swaggering exterior is methodically peeled away to reveal a still ingrained childhood mindset that is easily manipulated by an outside influence. When a defeated Goob teeters unknowingly on the precipice of his emotional destiny, it is his own future self that ultimately influences the path he takes:

"No! Everyone will tell you to let it go and move on, but don’t! Instead, let it fester and boil inside of you. Take these feelings and lock them away. Let them fuel your actions. Let hate be your ally and you will be capable of wonderfully horrid things. Heed my words, Goob. Don’t let it go."

Little Mikey grows into a bitter and disappointed individual, easily manipulated by the inhuman and evil machinations of Doris, the true villain of the piece. But in that symbolic exchange, it was he himself who determined the path taken. It is a bold statement about the human condition and its propensity for self-corruption, surprisingly found in a film genre recently better known for flatulence-based humor and teen-pleasing innuendos.

Lewis' obsession with the past is however not so much rooted in regrets as it is in the desire for family and acceptance. But he finds those dynamics, not in a past memory of a long lost mother, but unexpectedly in the wacky spontaneous collective of the extended Robinson clan. In another similarly symbolic encounter, Cornelius Robinson reinforces his forward-moving mantra upon young Lewis, thereby ensuring the very future that he, Cornelius, has in fact created.

This subtle laying of emotional groundwork allows for a culmination of story and events into an ending both overwhelming in its heartfelt nature and unexpected in its sincerity. The film is in many ways presented as a scrambled puzzle where surprisingly, nearly every piece deftly falls into place before the end credits roll. The smallest of details are accounted for despite the usual paradoxical problems inherent to time travel storytelling. The film's final moments, devoid of dialog but set to Rob Thomas' performance of the song "Little Wonders," deliver a succession of character performances rich in emotional nuance and possessing a genuineness unexpected in their very scope and delivery.

Upon subsequent viewings, I noticed a number of subtle elements that were simply brilliant in their execution. The film's opening moments where an infant Lewis is placed on the steps of the Sixth Street Orphanage, is colored in deep sepia tones, much liked an aged photograph and in direct contrast to film's later presentation of a bright and multicolored future.

The roots of the hilarious dinner table martial arts movie confrontation between Frannie and brother Gaston can be found in the film's early science fair scene where Frannie tells future son Wilbur "Don't sass me boy, I know karate."

The differences between Lewis and Goob are demonstrated in a subtle but telling manner via Lewis' equation-filled composition book that plays in stark contrast to Goob's happy unicorn-themed binder and its simple one-page checklist. Despite the nefarious tasks scribbled on that first page of loose leaf paper, the simple joyful nature of the possession betrays an underlying goodness potentially buried beneath the Bowler Hat Guy's villainy. The hollow nature of the adult Goob's plans and motivations is succinctly summarized early in the film when the head of Inventco pointedly questions "You mean you haven't thought this through?" The film revisits this thesis both hilariously and directly via the manipulations of Frankie the frog and T-Rex who both submissively proclaim "I'm just not so sure how well this plan was thought through . . . . . . Master."

I especially loved the parallel visits to the Anderson Observatory by Lewis in both the future and the present. Much in the way Cornelius reveals to Lewis his future potential, Bud and Lucille similarly uncover his eyes to the empty area upon which that unbridled potential will be realized.

And I will without reservation make note of the film's overall testament to the creative philosophies of Walt Disney. Much like the film's conclusion, the end quote is an unexpected emotional surprise that reaches beyond just the specific life journey of Lewis/Cornelius Robinson. While Walt Disney may have not specifically proclaimed the Keep Moving Forward mantra, his suppositions on "pushing the envelope" and "everyone needs a good failure" are clearly the basis of the Robinson family creeds. The quote, for many of us, is a direct correlation as to why we are, and have been, passionate Disney fans and enthusiasts. And it in many ways speaks to the recent transformation of the Walt Disney Company under the collective leadership of Bob Iger, Ed Catmull and John Lasseter. Iger's own recent recent references to "generating creative success" certainly reflect the Keep Moving Forward philosophy, and certainly run counter to the Bowler Hat Guy planning that often defined the company prior to Iger's appointment as CEO.

As I've often stated, opinions are subjective. Meet the Robinsons has its detractors, many of them among the self-proclaimed Disney faithful. They clearly did not have the patience nor tolerance for the unconventional approach to the material taken by director Anderson and his crew. But it was that very approach that set it apart so dramatically and refreshingly from the overabundance of animated product that currently fills the multiplexes and DVD store shelves. At least for me, it was a fun, emotionally-charged and highly satisfying ride into the future with a fitting and relevant tribute to the Walt Disney Company's creative past.

Winning the Rat(atouille) Race

Now that the dust has settled from the 2007 summer movie box office derby, I thought it was a good time to reflect again on a certain little rat and and what has been his very much understated impact on an industry that so often can only find validation in skewered number crunching and hollow punditry.

It has been just a little less than four months since Ratatouille was released in theaters, yet it is fast approaching a worldwide box office gross of a half a billion dollars. And it remains one of the most critically acclaimed films of 2007. It has for the most part shed the loud but still generally minimal anti-Disney-Pixar-merger baggage that some analysts kept handcuffing to it, but there is still the occasional saber rattle from those unwilling to give up what has become an increasingly weak supposition.

Ratatouille is certainly an unqualified success, both critically and financially. In animated circles, while it could not compete quite on the level of the well-established Shrek franchise, its box office remained greater than that of The Simpson's Movie, despite that film's blockbuster $70 million opening and over saturated media blitz.

I will unapologetically acknowledge that I have long championed the Disney-Pixar marriage. For doing so, I have been described by some as an uneducated pollyanna with a clear fan-rooted bias, clinging to an unrealistic view of what is ultimately a financially driven dynamic. By not consistently addressing Disney's entertainment endeavors from perspectives relating to corporate politics and fiscal performance, I have been told that I am essentially engaging in Mickey Mouse journalism of the most irresponsible nature.

It is a criticism that truly befuddles me.

I have always attempted to apply my college education in journalism and communications to my efforts here at 2719 Hyperion. Blogs tend to be very personal reflections of their authors rather than disciplined exercises in journalism, and in that regard, 2719 Hyperion very distinctly represents my lifelong passion for Disney entertainment. But I feel that that does not necessarily preempt the need to apply long respected principles of journalistic responsibility to what is still a very public forum for ideas and information.

When reporting news and writing feature stories, I strive for accuracy and always attempt to clearly attribute my sources. If a source is questionable or unnamed, I make every effort to identify it as such. Reviews, criticisms, and commentaries are labeled as such to reflect their typically subjective content and opinions.

But, at the end of the day, I'm still essentially doing what I do because I love Disney. As the header says, I'm addressing the many worlds of Disney entertainment. Entertainment.

And the heart of Disney entertainment is unbridled, inspired creativity, rooted in the dogged determination, passion and unbending commitment to quality demonstrated by the company's founder and namesake. Sure, it is an idealistic sentiment that has at times been undermined by uninspired executives, boardroom politics and monetary motivations. But it is in fact the nucleus of Disney fandom. We do not arrive at our passions because of interests in corporate governance, financial ledgers and monetary projections.

And while one could never at any point deem those subjects irrelevant, when it comes to Disney entertainment, they must always be viewed within the context of supporting creative visions and providing quality products. I begrudge no one who embraces the task of reporting or commenting on the Disney company from a strictly fiscal perspective. It is simply not my mission here.

What was so incredibly frustrating about the sound bites and punditry that emerged following the Disney-Pixar acquisition was that it was all about numbers. Everything about the merger was quick to be judged solely on basis of box office revenues. The financial performances of Cars and then Ratatouille became the focal points of discussions while their creative merits were either completely ignored or quickly dismissed.

At a recent conference with analysts from Goldman Sachs, Disney CEO Bob Iger made the following comments that speak to financial strategies rooted in creative dynamics, as relating specifically to the Pixar acquisition:

Well, I think the number one success would be the strengthening of our management, in particular our creative management in animation at the company. John Lasseter and Ed Catmull are applying their talents, which are considerable, to Disney animated films. Their first film will be out the end of next year, meaning next calendar year, called Bolt, which is renamed from American Dog, which we feel very optimistic about. But in general, the leadership that they brought to Disney animation I think has been not just greatly needed, but really impactful. I think the results that we will ultimately see from that, and time will tell, will make a big difference.

He concluded his presentation by saying:

I think more than anything, focusing on quality and creative success is critical, and creating more ways to generate creative success is also very important. So we're very optimistic about the company's prospects.

Creative success. Quality. And nowhere are those words more fitting than in describing a little character named Remy, both within the context of the wonderful story that was Ratatouille and the creative process the film ultimately came to validate and represent.

And a half a billion dollars ain't nothing to sneeze at either.

A Time of Unprecedented Choice and Opportunity

It was just over a year ago that a very good friend encouraged me to live out my passion by putting words to virtual paper in the form of the blog you now read. As much as I recognize anniversaries around here, I did not feel inclined initially to even mention that September 20th would mark the first birthday of 2719 Hyperion.

But Walter Cronkite changed my mind.

Well, not directly. It was actually a Walter Cronkite of twenty years ago. Let me explain.

While waiting in the daily agony of what is typically known as the after-school car pool line, I decided to dig into my iPod and listen to an mp3 file of the late 1980s incarnation of Spaceship Earth, which featured veteran journalist and famed network news anchor Walter Cronkite as the attraction’s audio host. It was Cronkite’s concluding comments from his SSE narration that suddenly made a persistent muse materialize and land with a loud ker-plunk on my left shoulder and subsequently begin to whisper in my ear. My son ultimately jumped into the car with much fanfare, breaking me away from my sojourn to the EPCOT Center of 1987, but not before I was able to briefly reflect on the other Uncle Walt’s then very prophetic words:

"Today our search for understanding is unbounded by space and time. Centuries of information stand ready to reach us in an instant. Our link with the past; our hope for the future. In the information age, our knowledge and tools of communication will continue to grow and improve. We’ll discover new ways to share our ideas and dreams, to create a better world for today, tomorrow and tomorrow’s child.

"Yes, tomorrow’s child. Embodying our hopes and dreams for the future. A future made possible by the information age. The technologies of this new era with extend our reach, expand the capabilities of the human mind, and help us shape a better tomorrow.
"Ours is a time of unprecedented choice and opportunity, so let us explore and question and understand. Let us learn from our past and meet the challenges of the future. Let us go forth and fulfill our destiny on Spaceship Earth."

So how does an old EPCOT attraction spiel somehow relate to my waxing sentimental over the first anniversary of 2719 Hyperion? Hang in there folks, I promise the dots will all connect in the end.

But first I need to do a little Meet the Robinsons quote highlighting.

Today our search for understanding is unbounded by space and time. Centuries of information stand ready to reach us in an instant. Our link with the past; our hope for the future. In the information age, our knowledge and tools of communication will continue to grow and improve. We’ll discover new ways to share our ideas and dreams, to create a better world for today, tomorrow and tomorrow’s child.

Yes, tomorrow’s child. Embodying our hopes and dreams for the future. A future made possible by the information age. The technologies of this new era with extend our reach, expand the capabilities of the human mind, and help us shape a better tomorrow.

Ours is a time of unprecedented choice and opportunity, so let us explore and question and understand. Let us learn from our past and meet the challenges of the future. Let us go forth and fulfill our destiny on Spaceship Earth.

Since that very exciting day in 1987 when I first visited EPCOT Center, and more specifically Spaceship Earth, I have certainly experienced this wonderful future made possible by the information age. But while in the last ten years or so since I became a traveler on the World Wide Web and have used that connectivity to great benefit, I had never perceived an opportunity to pursue my passion for all things Disney in any type of online incarnation. My own total (and likely genetic) ineptness at anything HTML-related always pretty much put a damper on any Internet-related endeavors I might have considered.

But in 2006, two significant events happened to me: I purchased an iPod, and, my aforementioned friend introduced me to the world of blogging.

Via iTunes, I was quickly introduced, not to just the world of podcasting, but Disney podcasting. In short order, I discovered a very tangible, albeit one-sided link, to others as equally passionate about the Mouse and who led very similar Disney-centric lives. Somehow the actual voice connections seemed to provide a more direct contact than the often impersonal and generally anonymous communications found within forum-based Internet communities. Suddenly, I wanted to be involved. I wanted to in some way meet and interact with all these other like-minded individuals. I wanted to share my love and passion and accumulated Disney knowledge, and even engage in a debate or two. But how?

“Why don’t you start a blog,” my very good friend Jennifer casually suggested one evening last September. My HTML fears immediately charged forward, to which Jennifer quickly reassured, “Don’t worry, it’s easy.”

And to my surprise and delight, it was. I was suddenly able to share my ideas and dreams, extend my reach, and even resurrect a bit of destiny fulfillment that I had long ago abandoned. It was just like Mr. Cronkite promised some twenty years ago. See, I told you I would connect the dots.

To employ an overused but still appropriate Disney cliché, the last year has been one wild and exciting E-Ticket ride. And one with many unexpected twists and incredible surprises. The most recent being the evolution from a blogger url to 2719hyperion.com.

I have met so many friendly and welcoming individuals within the Disney online community, and have been recognized and acknowledged by both esteemed Disney scholars and well known enthusiasts whose works and efforts I have long admired and respected. I have forged what I consider to be lasting friendships, and was especially fortunate in meeting many of these new friends in person when I attended the MagicMeets fan gathering this past July.

My deepest thanks go out to all the faithful readers here who have supported and encouraged me these past twelve months. Heartfelt gratitude is also extended to my fellow Disney bloggers. We have formed a community of sorts within the larger Disney online community, and the support and camaraderie we often share is something I enjoy and value very much.

And finally, I cannot even begin to express my thanks to the one individual who, when he found me lurking about his forums at Disney World Trivia.com, invited me into his world and has since become a constant and passionate cheerleader for all my efforts. I currently have a regular gig with this gentleman on what is likely the most popular Disney podcast out there. I feel incredibly privileged to be able to call Lou Mongello my friend. Thanks for everything, buddy.

The Legacy Continues. The Dream is Alive

"At the very least, we can acknowledge the legacy. Maybe in some small way, it will help inspire the current or future stewards of Epcot to restore the dream."

I wrote those words back on February 2, hoping to inspire other members of the Disney online community to do what the Disney Company seemed to then be emphatically saying they would not do: publicly acknowledge, and in some way celebrate, the 25th Anniversary of EPCOT Center. As it has turned out, I was just a part of what became a grass roots movement that would ultimately embody the very idealism and "one little spark" mantra that EPCOT has come to represent.

For on October 1st, the anniversary of EPCOT Center's opening day in 1982, the Disney Company will, despite the words of then Epcot Vice President Brad Rex some seven months ago, celebrate this very special day with a re-dedication ceremony and related festivities.

They will Acknowledge the Legacy.

Beyond some type of comment or statement from a spokesperson or member of Disney management, there is really no way to gauge what impact the Disney fan community has had on this somewhat dramatic turnaround. But it would be hard to imagine that the very passionate responses and subsequent enthusiast-initiated celebrations and retrospectives did not play some significant part in influencing the planning of the events now scheduled for October 1st.

The efforts in particular of Jenn Waitt and Adam Roth represent a Cinderella story with the happiest of endings. What began back in February as a forum thread, through the hard work and grass roots efforts of Jenn and Adam, has evolved into Celebration 25, a fan-based gathering on October 1st that has received Disney's blessing and assistance. The event currently has registered well over one thousand attendees, myself and my family included.

So then, what is the state of the Dream, that I and so many others have advocated the restoration thereof?

Some of the indications are certainly good. It appears that the Spaceship Earth refurbishment will take on a more Horizons-based theme, restoring to some extent Future World's original mission of forward thinking idealism. Still-unconfirmed rumors of a Patrick Stewart narration and the return of the "Tomorrow's Child" song would definitely support that notion.

The wave of retro-inspired EPCOT Center merchandise that has emerged over the last few months indicates a willingness on Disney's part to revisit and pay homage to EPCOT's first decade of operation.

And more than anything, there seems to be a clear return to EPCOT's original design and aesthetic sensibilities, as demonstrated by the removal of the wand, and the subtle yet still distinct elimination of some of the architectural bling that has cluttered various parts of Future World. The termination of the Leave a Legacy promotion is a hopeful sign that those stark and uninspired monoliths will potentially be removed or relocated, and that the park's entrance plaza will be restored to a more open and welcoming environment.

There are no doubt still cynics who will bemoan these developments as insufficient or too-little, too-late. But like EPCOT itself, I would prefer to hold to a positive, hopeful view of future events and possibilities. There are clearly ideas and elements present in Epcot today that display degrees of incompatibility with the original concepts and themes established by the park's designers in 1982. But recent events and rumored future happenings, indicate at least to me that the original Dream of EPCOT Center still remains alive.

Bringing The Animated Man Out of the Shadow

It is unfortunate that Michael Barrier's book, The Animated Man: A Life of Walt Disney, has struggled to find its way out of the shadow cast by last year's publication of Neal Gabler's more heralded and Disney Company endorsed Walt Disney: The Triumph of the American Imagination.

I have not up until this point attempted any kind of review of Barrier’s efforts, as in all honesty, I have not read the book in its entirety. I am not a reader of biographies in the traditional fashion; I tend to dig into them haphazardly, usually digesting specific passages as interest or research dictates, but rarely if ever completing cover-to-cover consumptions.

The same held true of Gabler’s longer book, although I did take a more linear approach with it initially, and have more or less completed reading it in the months since its publication. Like many others, I was at first infatuated with the potential of Gabler’s efforts. Here was someone essentially given the blessing of the Walt Disney Company and access to many otherwise restricted items from its extensive and far reaching archives. Great was my anticipation; so also ultimately was my disappointment. I quickly tired of its overemphasis on the “flawed Walt.” The book often becomes a somewhat odd apologist dissertation rather than an insightful and enlightening life story. I, like Barrier, do not subscribe to the Gabler suppositions that Disney spent much of his life discontented and at times mired in mental anguish. The "troubled genius" approach is one all too easy for a biographer to take and one that Gabler seems to readily embrace. He in effect, puts the psychoanalytical cart before the fascinating and far more relevant creatively driven horse.

While I am certainly disqualified from writing fair, overall assessments of both books, I feel I can still venture an opinion or two based on the usage they each receive as parts of my library of Disney research materials. That is to say I frequently find myself perusing The Animated Man with a regularity that keeps it almost constantly residing near my desk. It is rare that I cannot find what I am looking for within its pages. At the same time Gabler’s lengthier tome has become the research equivalent of the relief pitcher who never makes it out of the bullpen.

This is not to say that the book is without merit. Its density alone reflects exhaustive research and extensive content. But there seems to be an odd disconnect between Gabler and his subject that Barrier thankfully does not fall victim to. It's an intangible and highly subjective perception on my part, but perhaps rooted in Barrier's well earned status as one of the leading authorities on animation history. His resume in that regard is extensive, beginning in the 1970s with the publication of Funnyworld, a magazine devoted to animation and comic art. A near quarter century of research and interviews led to the writing of Hollywood Cartoons: American Animation in Its Golden Age which saw publication in 1999. Those efforts in turn ultimately served in the writing of The Animated Man.

Barrier himself addresses Gabler in a commentary he has posted on his web site. While it would be quite easy to quickly dismiss his pointed criticisms and the extensive list of errors he has found in Walt Disney as rooted in professional rivalry, a careful reading of the post reflects a genuinely fair and balanced assessment of Gabler’s efforts. One especially notable point addressed by Barrier is Gabler’s citings of two particular sources, Hollywood’s Dark Prince by Marc Eliot and Disney’s World by Leonard Mosley, both known for their often outrageous conjectures and numerous inaccuracies. While it is certainly unavoidable to not shine a spotlight on Barrier’s potential bias in the discussion, he is still unquestionably among the very few individuals qualified to question the veracity of Gabler’s work.

Especially pleasing to a Disney historian such as myself (albeit of a distinctly novice stature when compared to the Barriers, Canemakers and Maltins of the world) is the wealth of information and commentary Barrier makes available at his web site. A recent post that addresses Disney’s wearing of a Goldwater campaign button to a White House ceremony hosted by LBJ is an excellent example of the lengths Barrier will go to to insure that his work is accurate and as close to the truth as one can get.

At the conclusion of that particular essay, Barrier states that “. . . where Walt Disney is concerned, I realized long ago, there's always something new to learn. That's what makes researching and writing about him so fascinating, so frustrating, and, ultimately, such an enormous pleasure.”

The statement demonstrates a passion for the subject matter that is, as I previously stated, noticeably absent in Gabler’s Walt Disney. Barrier also displays a much a greater understanding of the business that Disney pioneered and ultimately came to represent on so many levels. While The Animated Man has not enjoyed the publicity and critical recognition that Walt Disney has in many ways received more by design than by merit, it is an effort that deserves to be recognized as a valuable and important contribution to the library of Disney history.

Testament to the Geeks

I have made countless friends in the online Disney community since starting 2719 Hyperion last fall. But I have been especially fortunate in befriending two such individuals who actually live just down the road here in North Carlina. In a very short time, we have become great friends and brothers in the cause, and I have been terribly, terribly remiss in acknowledging them here at 2719. They shamelessly plug yours truly and this site at every opportunity and are just a couple of all around super guys.

George, Andrew . . . could you stand up . . . ah, there they are.

Ladies and gentlemen, I just want to say a big thank you to my very good friends, The Disney Geeks. Passionate about all things Disney, happy, fun, and occasionally irreverent, they daily bring a positive energy and enthusiasm, not just to their own terrific blog, but to all the other Disney sites and communities they actively participate in.

Thanks again guys for all your support!

The Soundtracks of Our Memories

Whenever I hear that initial synthetic hum of Baroque Hoedown, it is impossible for my imagination not to immediately transport me back to a much coveted curbside location on Main Street U.S.A. in Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom. In that freshly darkened space, thousands of twinkling lights become apparent in my mind’s eye and my memories return to a time and place where for at least a brief period of time, magic and wonder were every bit as tangible as the smell of popcorn and the joyful giggles of small children.

That is the power of music. And most especially the music that has been the soundtrack of the Walt Disney World and Disneyland resorts for last half century.

For the past thirty years I have been a passionate collector of Disney theme park music. I began my collection in 1976 when I purchased a picture disc record of the Main Street Electrical Parade that was as every bit as cool to look at as it was to listen to. Yet my attachment to this very specialized genre actually stretches back even further. These very sentimental roots can be found originating in my tender youth with a battered and scratched hand-me-down record album entitled A Day at Disneyland.

Many of my fellow baby boomers no doubt also remember the bright record-grooved circular designs that were a trademark feature of a series of albums from the late 1950s/early 1960s and bore the Disneyland Record High Fidelity label. These LP’s displayed the A Record and a Picture Book brand and folded open to reveal eight brightly illustrated storybook pages. I owned a few in the series, but A Day at Disneyland was by far my very favorite.

It was on this record that Walt Disney and Cliff Edwards (in his Jiminy Cricket persona) took me on a land by land tour of Disneyland. Being a child of Pennsylvania, the Happiest Place on Earth was a distant and exotic place and so that scratchy piece of vinyl was at the time my only means of visitation.

In 1987, I purchased the cassette tapes of The Official Album of Disneyland/Walt Disney World and The Official Album of EPCOT Center---and within a year wore them out completely. It was fortuitous then that in the fall of 1988 Disney embraced the still very young compact disc format and released The Music of Disneyland, Walt Disney World and Epcot Center. The 1980s represented a real watershed time in the history of Disney theme park music, and it was certainly embodied in the release of this particular CD.

Here you had classic Magic Kingdom music that included selections from the Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Caribbean and the Country Bear Jamboree, combined with very new and fresh music from EPCOT Center--"Tomorrow’s Child", "Listen to the Land," "New Horizons," "One Little Spark," "Kitchen Kaberet" and "Golden Dream," just to list some of the selections. The collection’s only distinct flaw was that it did not carry over the wonderful and rousing EPCOT "Main Entrance Medley" that had been included on the earlier EPCOT LP/cassette.

Most importantly, The Music of Disneyland, Walt Disney World and EPCOT Center established the groundwork for the subsequent succession of theme park collections that have since been released over the past two decades.

And why do I and so many of my fellow Disney Park enthusiasts cling to our Walt Disney World and Disneyland music collections, carefully caring for them, preserving them and ultimately digitizing them into immortality?

They are the soundtracks of our memories.

They are the magical time machines that transport us to those wonderful and joyful moments in our lives we would give anything to relive again and again. Clapping our hands energetically to the Country Bear Jamboree. Experiencing the sheer spectacle of Pirates of the Caribbean while the strains of "Yo Ho Yo Ho" resonate among the elaborate sets and engaging animatronics. Forever associating the melody of "It’s a Small World" with the wide eyes and broad smile on your young child’s face. Allowing the ever-optimistic messages of "Tomorrow’s Child" and "New Horizons" to never let you give up on those idealistic positive views of the world and the future that EPCOT Center so firmly planted in your psyche. And remembering the tears that fell across your cheeks the first time you heard "We Go On" at the conclusion of Illuminations: Reflections of Earth, and how, if only for a brief and emotional moment, it restored your faith in the future of mankind.

The power of music.

A power that can be found in circular pieces of black vinyl that hiss and pop, or in strings of characters that access content on a computer’s hard drive. The power to turn off all the lights on Main Street U.S.A. in a Magic Kingdom of your memories and imagination. And watch that very magical parade again for the very first time.

The Not-So-Magic Wand

I am somewhat incredulous at the notion of people who, in defending the infamous Mickey hand and wand that has adorned Spaceship Earth at Epcot all these recent years, take to task those who were generally in favor of its removal. This tactic, to label those who disliked the structure as crazy, out-of-touch purists is a bit extreme and very much misrepresents many who have articulated sound, rational and educated opinions on the matter.

To begin with, let me just say that I never hated the Wand. It was an eye-catching, festive adornment that enhanced Epcot’s position as the center point of Walt Disney World’s Millennium Celebration. It had a New Years Eve party style to it that directly related to the festivities it represented. I viewed it in the same manner that I viewed the birthday caked-themed Cinderella castle back in 1996—a fun, short term bit of whimsy. Nothing more. Nothing less.

But unlike similar “temporary” redecorations over the years, the Wand remained. There have been mountains of speculation as to why. Marketing strategies, branding and financial issues have all been cited at one time or another. But let’s face it, the decision to keep it there was never the result of creative sensibilities. Outside of a specific marketing strategy such as the Millennium Celebration, would such a structure have ever been seriously considered or executed otherwise?

No, and there is a very good and fundamental reason why, that seems to have gone largely unaddressed in this long and very often contentious debate. While Spaceship Earth is without question the iconic representation of Epcot, it is also an attraction with a very specific theme and purpose. And to create a long term aesthetic that in no way relates, and in many ways runs counter to that theme is just plain bad show.

Here is an excerpt from the 1982 book Walt Disney’s EPCOT that tongue-in-cheek addresses Spaceship Earth’s somewhat familiar nature, but at the same time explains how the overall theme and purpose of the attraction extends beyond its interior:

Now the sphere, 180 feet in diameter, rises some eighteen stories high—a stunning silver ball dominating the landscape for miles around, with little to rival its rotund majesty. Although at first sight it looks like nothing so much as a gargantuan golf ball on the putting green of the gods, it takes on another aspect as we begin to appreciate its purpose—to reproduce the form of our spaceship, the planet Earth.

You see, Spaceship Earth, both as the icon and the attraction, was designed with a very specific aesthetic in mind. It represents Earth, both physically and philosophically. And those representations are an integral part of the message it communicates. An oversize wand and hand would be inappropriate positioned over such attractions as Space Mountain or Big Thunder Mountain Railroad for clear and obvious reasons. Why is it then acceptable to attach these embellishments to an attraction that is just as equally distinct in theme and purpose?

Because, Epcot just ain’t what it used to be. If you don’t like it, just shut up and leave.

This seems to be the common mantra lately of those who seem intent on characterizing anyone who acknowledges and respects EPCOT’s original guiding principles as irrational, misguided “foamers.” Many of these folk wear their disdain for pre-21^st century Epcot like a proud emblem, deeming anything associated with the park that is beyond their frames of reference as irrelevant and unimportant. They consider Epcot’s original themes of futurism, forward-thinking idealism, education and international community passé and old fashioned, yet are at a loss to describe what their current perception of Epcot is or what they believe it is evolving into. So what if it becomes a collection of totally disconnected compartmentalized experiences. As long as each experience is well done and a successful crowd-pleaser, why is there a need for a central, overriding theme. And who needs those annoying underlying missions of education and technological innovation, anyway?

Epcot purists (as they are so frequently labeled) are not opposed to change. In fact, most agree that change is a necessity dictated by the very principals upon which Epcot was conceived. But changes to Epcot should be consistent with the concepts and themes brought forth by the very talented and remarkable individuals who were responsible for its creation in 1982.

Do I think the Wand was somehow emblematic of everything that’s wrong with Epcot? Of course not. It was just simply a marketing gimmick that had overstayed its welcome.

Killin' the Villain at The Motley Fool

While the shakeup at the DisneyToon studios has had the Disney online community abuzz these last few days, financial pundits are beginning to weigh in on the Lasseter-Catmull influenced restructuring that will lead to the eventual elimination of the company's lucrative direct-to-DVD sequels and spinoffs. The Motley Fool provides this interesting perspective on the subject. The conclusion of Rick Munarriz, the writer of the commentary?

"Remember that $7.4 billion purchase of Pixar? Do you think it would have been necessary if the non-Pixar animation being put out by Disney was still the handiwork of a respected market leader? Of course not. That's a dear price to pay for Disney's mistake of squandering its hilltop vista by playing it cheap, quick, and stupid.

Those Pixar chaps know what they're doing. So farewell, Cinderella III. The shoe never quite fit."

Considering that DisneyToon brought in billions, it's interesting to see such a point of view emerge from the business world.

Disney-Pixar: A Wall Street Perspective

I thought as a follow up to my Pixar commentary of a few days ago, I'd post a link to a recent article from Business Week that addressed the Disney-Pixar merger. Here is a particularly telling excerpt:

Because even if Ratatouille doesn't come out of the gate with some super-duper opening weekend, and folks say that Iger and company got snookered in the Pixar deal, it doesn't matter. Sure, the Pixar deal was pricey, but it was worth it. Disney all but reinvented itself with the deal. Top Pixar creative font John Lasseter has remade Disney's stumbling animated studio, replacing the director for the upcoming American Dog and jumping in to overhaul the recent Meet the Robinsons. The latter flick is approaching $100 million, a rarity these days for Disney-made animated films. Disney also gets a clear shot at making theme-park rides based on Pixar flicks, such as the new Finding Nemo ride at Disneyland.

Moreover, the deal was a signal to the rest of the creative community that Disney could attract and keep the likes of such big-deal animation directors as Brad Bird, who directed The Incredibles and Ratatouille, as well as Steve Jobs' top two Pixar hands, Lasseter and Ed Catmull. "We didn't buy Pixar for any one film," says Disney studio chairman Dick Cook. "We bought it for people like John Lasseter, Ed Catmull, Brad Bird, [Finding Nemo writer/director] Andrew Stanton, and many others who we hope will make hundreds of films for us."

And:

According to Disney Chief Financial Officer, Tom Staggs, the company is six months ahead of schedule in buying back those 279 million Disney shares it issued as currency in the Pixar deal. Indeed, since the deal, Disney stock has jumped 40%, in part due to Iger settling the Pixar issue.

Bear in mind that these observations come from a noted Wall Street analyst and a very reputable business news source. These are not the musings of a couple of hardcore Disney fans wearing rose-colored glasses.

Again, get ready. As the author of this article even noted, the financial performance of Ratatouille will likely reignite the Pixar debate in some circles. But it appears those circles are getting quite a bit smaller and distinctly less populated.

Addressing the anit-Pixar . . . Again

While a great many Disney pundits (and Wall Street analysts) spent a lot of time and copy last year making the argument that the Disney-Pixar merger was not necessarily a good deal and that the mouse house would be hard pressed to see any return on their multi-billion dollar investment, these same often vocal critics have become somewhat quieter in recent months.

It was interesting how many of these folks used last summer’s Cars as the poster child for their overpriced-Pixar mantra. Even after the film grossed a whopping half billion in worldwide revenue, it was still being labeled a disappointment. And a recent article in Variety underscores a financial upside of Cars that the naysayers seem to still conveniently ignore:

While many refuse to rank "Cars" as Pixar maven John Lasseter's finest two hours, its merchandising campaign has become a global phenomenon. A year after the motion picture release, a sojourn to a local Toys R Us will reveal collectors -- boys to men -- on the prowl for the new shipment of Mattel-made die-cast miniatures, with the movie's extensive ensemble of characters yielding an endless array of product iterations (Dinaco Blue Chick Hicks, anyone?).

According to Andy Mooney, Chairman of Disney Consumer Products:

"In a year without content in the marketplace, we'll do $2 billion in ('Cars') sales. It underscores the fundamental point that not every animated movie is created equally in terms of merchandising. 'Cars' gets into the very fundamental play pattern for kids. And it seems every boy and every man in the world has panache for vehicles."

It’s interesting isn’t it? $2 billion in merchandise sales. Those are Star Wars types of numbers and demonstrate the promise of a long term evergreen franchise. Other than Star Wars, what other property in recent years has demonstrated that level of merchandising potential. Oh wait, that would probably be Toy Story. If you haven’t noticed, Buzz and Woody toys still litter the shelves of your local Targets and Wal-Marts some eight years after Toy Story 2 graced cineplex screens. Toy Story, Toy Story . . . sounds familiar. Isn’t that a . . . Pixar movie?

Apologies for the sarcasm. But I am just amazed that people continue to debate the Pixar acquisition, especially the financial end of it. And no doubt many of these same folks will spend the next few months over analyzing the receipts for Ratatouille and spinning their assessments into similar short-sighted sound bites. It’s short term thinking on what was a very long term investment. An investment that is already beginning to pay some remarkable dividends.

And that’s just the financial side of it. Has anyone noticed the really dramatic changes sweeping the Walt Disney Company, as clearly brought about by the influence of Pixar gurus John Lasseter and Ed Catmull?

Walt Disney Feature Animation is now the Walt Disney Animation Studios. The potentially troubled productions of American Dog and Rapunzel Unbraided have been redirected to hopefully better ends. Ron Clements and John Musker have returned, and with them, traditional animation in the form of The Princess and the Frog. For the first time in close to fifty years, s