Disney's Classic #1: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

Rating: 5/5

Children of current and previous generations have enjoyed and cherished the now classic animated works of Walt Disney for their charm, visual appeal and catchy songs. It is perhaps not until maturity that these same children go on to realize the achievements of each progressing Disney picture for what they are in terms of pioneering animation and Award-winning music. It is with an adult head on my shoulders that I now look back at Disney's Classics, and observe as they laid the path for the futures of animation and cinema.

Starting out with animated shorts like the joyous Silly Symphonies and various Mickey Mouse pictures, Walt Disney Productions ventured into entirely new turf when they announced a feature-length animation: the first in history. As you often hear with those who went on to achieve monumental success, Disney's efforts were shunned by the industry, and his own partners tried to discourage him. But with a lengthily-developed movie taking shape under the brushes of hugely talented artists, old Walt saw it as a risk worth mortgaging his house over, and went on not only to develop the most famous and beloved animated movie ever, but lay the foundations for a historical career and one of the biggest companies in the world.

Disney's beautiful Classic #1 is a moderately toned-down approach to the Brothers Grimm tale, working in appropriately placed gags and visual humour whilst producing enveloping story line, characters and emotions.  Beautiful young princess Snow White is the victim of her evil stepmother Queen Grimhilde's jealousy, and fearing for her life banishes herself to the woodland cottage of seven entertaining little dwarfs, all of whom have very individual personalities. Little Dopey, the toothless mute dwarf, is probably the main source of comic relief, but the Dwarfs as a whole deliver several amusing sequences; my particular favourites are their effort to wash before dinner, and their night of dancing and frolics in which they utilize the old 'dwarfs in an overcoat' schtick.

Visuals are stunning. Proving Disney Productions have been constructing terrifying castles since the year dot, captivating settings are used, from the Queen's abode - eerily similar to that in the later Beauty and the Beast (1990)- to the charming little European-style wooden cottage and its fabulous, quirky interiors. An outstanding sequence in Snow White comes as the young girl runs for her life through dark forests, which creep to life as haunting creatures and ghastly faces. This sequence does not lose its touch as it ages; children are still horrified by its presence, and the techniques look unaged. 

The other scene worth mention here is one that frequently makes it into 'Scariest Moments' lists everywhere: the evil Queen's disturbing transformation from a cruel beauty to a hideous old hag, with bulging eyes and particularly expressive brows. Their effect is noted at the end of her first appearance, glowing for an extra moment in the dark when all else in the frame has faded to black. Disney's ability to scare children and adults alike with such engaging visuals is present throughout many of the company's works, from the terrifying mountain demon in Fantasia (1940) to the chilling West Wing scene of Beauty and the Beast (1990).

Snow White set the bar for many of the company's later pictures, and several parallels are noticeable: the aforementioned opening sequence hovering over a domineering castle, with no apparent evil but an aura of unease, is almost identical to that of Beauty and the Beast. Snow White's dancing figure during the party scene can be observed as the very same movements as Maid Marian in 'The Phony King Of England' sequence in Robin Hood (1973). 

Another very fond characteristic of this picture, and mostly of Disney's earlier works, is the incorporation of music into telling the story. Where later works have little in the way of score in-between musical numbers in favour of straight dialogue, the earlies like Snow White and Cinderella (1950) have a beautiful method of describing the on-screen action through music, demonstrating the company's ability to perfectly match images to sounds, most successfully pulled off in the breath-taking Fantasia (1940). Here we have the wild, minor-key fluttering of woodwind as the Queen's crow sidekick flusters at her new appearance. Seven chirpy little string-plucks as seven rosy button noses pop over the ends of their beds. These little touches I admire profusely in Disney works; they add character in a dimension so often forgotten about nowadays.

The songs of Snow White have gone on to be widely known, prompting such terrible covers as 'Some Day My Prince Will Come' by Barbra Streisand, but in their original context, the pieces are enchanting, wonderfully performed, and ingeniously choreographed. It is hard, when watching something like Snow White, to believe that it didn't start out as perfect as it is. Every little detail works so well in sync with everything else, the makers make it look like second nature. To think that many script rewrites, character revisions and musical experimentation went on and on before the company came to the finished product as we know it is astonishing. For a particularly reminiscent and insightful look into the making of Snow White, a whole second DVD in some editions is dedicated to this documentation.