Revisiting Disney's Dumbo
Walt Disney's Dumbo, The Flying Elephant was
released on DVD October 23, the 60th anniversary of
its first theatrical run. The animated film remains a
deeply moving picture and conveys various universal
themes -- the fear of being separated from one's
mother, facing discrimination on the basis of physical
appearance -- with a simple eloquence that is neither
preachy nor trite.
At the time of its release in 1941, Dumbo was
hailed by critics as Disney's least pretentious work.
Nothing in the movie heralded a technical
breakthrough, as the studio had done with
Pinocchio (1940) and Snow White and the
Seven Dwarfs (1937). And certainly nothing in
Dumbo can match the computerized wizardry of
modern Disney "classics" like The Lion King
(1994). Despite their merits, however, these other
films do not come close to achieving Dumbo's
raw power. Indeed, the little elephant with the big
ears, who wants only to reunite with his mother, has
moved audiences like few other Disney protagonists (a
notable exception being the young buck Bambi in the
1947 film of the same name). And Dumbo's
compelling narrative provides a forum for Disney's
more extremist views.
Watching Dumbo as a kid, I didn't question its
content or probe for meaning beyond the elephant's
tale. Only after revisiting the film as a young adult
have I been able to see why it was "special to Walt
Disney," according to critic Richard Schickel, in his
book, The Disney Version. Published roughly 20
years ago, this book angered many Disney fans by
suggesting that Walt -- born 100 years ago December 5
-- was less than perfect. The book portrays the artist
as a paranoid man, and not a little contemptuous of
his colleagues, particularly the numerous Jewish
moguls who reigned in Hollywood during the 1930s,
'40s, and '50s. According to Schickel, Dumbo
reflects Walt Disney's deepest convictions regarding
the United States and its entry into WWII. The titular
protagonist represents the innocence of the heartland,
where Disney himself grew up, and his story reflects
how this innocence comes under attack by "political
forces" abroad and "subversive elements" at home.
Dumbo was released roughly six weeks before the
bombing of Pearl Harbor.
It was Disney's fourth animated feature film --
following Snow White,
Pinocchio, and Fantasia -- and the first
with a contemporary
U.S. setting. With his big blue eyes, jaunty cap, and
youthful exuberance, Dumbo (voiced by Verna Felton) is
set against the other circus elephants, who may be
seen as representing the European Allies. Key among
these is Dumbo's mother (voiced by Sarah Selby),
separated from her son throughout much of the film,
just as America was cut off from Great Britain and
other allies at the time of Dumbo's release.
But the parallels are more complicated than this
sounds initially. At the beginning of the film, the
other elephants treat Dumbo with cruel condescension.
They know precisely how big an elephant's ears should
be, and they ridicule Dumbo for not measuring up. The
rest of the circus community also ostracizes him. With
its assortment of jeering clowns and faceless
roustabouts, this community exhibits a sinister mob
mentality, suggesting Fascism and, by association,
Nazism. Significantly, the circus is presided over by
a preening, bombastic Italian ringmaster, an apparent
caricature of Mussolini (voiced by Herman Bing).
In his suffering at the hands of the ringmaster and
his own fellow pachyderms, Dumbo functions as Disney's
own alter ego. Indeed, Disney saw himself as a victim
in the three-ring circus that was Hollywood. He felt
that the Hollywood studio system of the '30s and '40s
threatened his creative control. The studio heads he
opposed included Louis B. Mayer at MGM, Jack Warner at
Warner Bros., and Harry Cohn at Columbia. Each had a
vested interest in Disney's animation empire and was
eager to buy him out. Though often pressed for money,
Disney refused their offers. In particular, he
resented Harry Cohn's so-called "ruthless" tactics. In
his book, Disney's World, critic Leonard Mosely
recalls an incident in which Disney, referring to
Cohn, vowed never to "let that fat Jew rescue me from
bankruptcy."
Disney projected his own sense of alienation onto
"others" in Hollywood, namely, Jews, blacks, and union
workers. In retaliation against the studio moguls, who
were predominantly Jewish, he refused to employ Jews
in high-level positions at his studio or as actors in
his live-action features. Not until 1969, two years
after Disney's death, did a Jewish actor, Buddy
Hackett, feature prominently in a Disney film, The
Love Bug. Disney Studios also denied black workers
even minimal opportunities, as technicians and support
personnel. Such racism is apparent in the crow
sequence in Dumbo. Appearing well outside the
circus limits, the black caricatures are shown to be
anonymous members of a marginal group. Only one is
given a name, "Jim Crow." Even as outsiders, however,
the crows still manage to torment poor Dumbo.
Mosely reports that Disney saw union workers as a
third parasitic subset of U.S. society. It is
significant that many of Disney's employees had gone
on strike in the spring of 1941, costing his studio
some $2 million and paralyzing operations for almost
three months. The release date for Dumbo had to
be pushed back several months, awaiting final changes
that could only be made after production resumed.
These changes included the insertion of a new scene
featuring drunken clowns. Thinly veiled caricatures of
the strikers at Disney, they scheme to "hit the big
boss [the ringmaster] for a raise." Oddly, the evil
ringmaster becomes the "victim" here.
According to Mosley, Disney summed up many of his
beliefs in an off-the-record attack against President
Franklin D. Roosevelt, whose liberalism Walt opposed.
Disney denounced Roosevelt for calling the 1900s the
"Century of the Common Man." "Balls!" Disney said.
"It's the century of the Jew, the union cutthroat, the
fag, and the whore! And FDR and his National Labor
Relations Board made it so!" Ironically, soon after
Dumbo's, release, Walt would turn his
filmmaking efforts to the FDR's war effort. However,
Disney never ceased to see Roosevelt's government as a
threat or to resent the loss of creative control he
had previously wielded over his projects. Disney's
subsequent efforts, for the next four years, consisted
mainly of short cartoons commissioned by the
government to boost wartime morale. In later decades,
his work mellowed, taking on the cheerful, rather
antiseptic cast of the '50s and early '60s, with
cuddly live-action features and kiddy TV shows, such
as Pollyanna and the Mickey Mouse Club.
Dumbo now seems remarkable not only for its
adorable child's tale, but for its overt depiction of
Disney's peculiar brand of patriotism.