Walt Disney 3d Animation Movies

[Terry Chavarin]

ToKersavage, Petti, and Simonsen, Ralph Breaks the Internet served as the biggest and most challenging film they had worked on to date. The entire movie consisted of 434 characters, with 6,752 variants on each character, and over 1-million color swings for each variant. For the film, they created 150 sets, and 5.7 unique assets, given that every sign and fictional app logo seen in the film had to be painstakingly constructed by the art department. Given the scope of the project, it would take 1.9 million render hours per day to bring Ralph together.

Puetz and dos Anjos, being the masters of their craft, instantly took to instructing like they would animating, and introduced us to the various tools and options we had at our disposal to manipulate and set frames influencing the movement of the Vanellope model that was on our screens. In short, they were teaching us how to bring her to life and animate her. After a few swift and awkward actions, I quickly picked up on the process as well as I could. The joys of seeing the character come to life as I took action with the mouse, like a conductor to an orchestra, were surging through my fingers. I was doing something that felt so natural!

Throughout the day, we had been accompanied by several other outlets from all over the country. And among those reporters, one stood out to everyone, as she had dressed as Ariel, The Little Mermaid. The day was such that if I were to have my fantasy fulfilled in the form of our animation lesson, it only made sense for that reporter, as well as others who were impacted by The Littler Mermaid growing up to have theirs come true as well. And thus, there we sat in that conference room awaiting a Skype call from Ariel herself, Disney Legend, Jodi Benson.

Following the conversation with Jodi, we were met with more Disney legends, as Ron Clements, co-director of The Little Mermaid, and Mark Henn, the Animation Supervisor, were brought in to give the room a brief Q&A.

Clements recalled that he was 34 when he started working on the movie. And since it was a fairy tale he and Henn were both nervous that the movie was going to be compared to the legendary classics of Disney Animation, such as Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty. However what ultimately separated this film from the others was the fact that Ariel was intended to be a princess for the modern day generation; a proactive character rather than a reactive character. She was intended to be a real character and a real teenager: headstrong, rebellious, and flawed, but also believable and accessible. Ultimately, 30 years later, we view Ariel today as the princess that set the pattern for all modern day princesses.

As the day pressed on, it held much more surprises. While it was very special being present for the earlier Q&As with Moore, Johnston, Clements, and Henn, it meant the world to me that I would get the opportunities to talk face-to-face and 1:1 with the legends who made Ralph Breaks the Internet and The Little Mermaid possible. And one by one I was able to meet with them in-person for a series of intimate on-camera interviews

As soon as it was ready, I was led into a small circle by one of the animators. He fitted the VR headset on my head, and before I knew it, I saw and heard the iconic Walt Disney Animation logo in front of me. The short had begun.

However as my visit to this magical facility finally came to a close, and I once more passed by the old priceless artwork depicting scenes from both the historical and modern-day classics of Disney Animation, I thought back to the start of the day, and the experiences I had; from the insightful panels I watched, to the animation and voice over sessions I experienced, and the amazing talented people I had met who brought life to some of the best films of our generation and continue to inspire me. And I realized through all of those experiences, my love of animation and the artistry it represents was still alive and would always be, so long as the medium continues to exist, and evolve, and grow like myself. And thus, as I left the building, I came to finally understand what people meant when they said cartoons can never die. Because apparently, some dreams never do either.

Now as a special treat (and something of a reward for making it to the end of this horribly verbose and over-saccharine cheese-fest of an article), we are spreading the Disney Animation love with you, our readers!

Ralph Breaks the Internet and The Little Mermaid: 30th Anniversary Edition will be available on Digital 4K Ultra HD and Movies Anywhere on February 12, and 4K Ultra HD and Blu-ray on February 26, 2019.

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The Disney movie closest to your heart is probably the one you saw at just the right age and rewatched on a parent-tormenting loop. Trying to objectively critique these movies can be a challenge. How do you assess their quality without taking nostalgia into account?

The results are, of course, tempered by personal bias, but I did my best to look at the big picture. If nothing else, hopefully we can agree on what makes the best of Disney so timeless and exceptional: strong stories with gorgeous visuals, stirring music, and that inexplicable quality we so often call "heart."

In the '40s, Disney animators were divided between the Army and making propaganda films on the home front. The only feature-length films they produced were the notorious package films, collections of unrelated shorts mashed together, sometimes with a rough frame narrative but more often not. Make Mine Music is the worst offender: There's some nice animation (Blue Bayou is subtly gorgeous) and the occasional memorable story (The Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met is weird enough to stick with you), but there's no connective tissue to make the film as a whole feel even remotely cohesive. While Make Mine Music is interesting as a time capsule, it doesn't offer much for modern-day audiences. The most controversial bits have been edited out: Gone are the bare breasts in All the Cats Join In, while The Martins and the McCoys has been removed entirely for its "graphic gunplay." Even restoring those moments merits only the slightest shrug.

Another package film, Fun and Fancy Free has the advantage of two longer segments: Bongo, about a circus bear who escapes captivity and falls in love, and Mickey and the Beanstalk, a Disney take on the classic fairy tale. Both are fine, though the latter has more substance. It's nice to see Mickey as a hero, and Donald Duck and Goofy also make appearances. (In a recurring gag, Goofy's pants repeatedly fall down, which is not the sharp writing audiences would come to expect from Disney's subsequent animated films.) But the most egregious aspect of Fun and Fancy Free is the live-action interstitial featuring ventriloquist Edgar Bergen and his dummies Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd. It has no bearing on the plot, except for the fact that Bergen narrates the story of Mickey and Willie the Giant, and there are some truly dreadful puns. It's unclear why this live-action scene was included at all: Unlike Willie the Giant wearing the iconic Brown Derby restaurant as a hat, it's utterly charmless.

The Three Caballeros isn't exactly a sequel, but it's certainly a thematic follow-up to Saludos Amigos. In contrast to most of the package films, the narrative here actually works: It's Donald Duck's birthday, and each of the gifts he receives inspires a different segment. (A film projector with photos of birds helps recount the tale of Pablo, a penguin who longs for warmer climates.) The humor of these cartoons is more Looney Tunes than Disney, but what the film lacks in substance it makes up for in style. Donald's buddies Jos Carioca, the cigar-smoking parrot, and Panchitos Pistoles, a pistol-wielding rooster, round out the titular caballeros and join forces for some of the film's most dynamic sequences, full of vibrant colors and catchy music. Aurora Miranda (the sister of the more famous Carmen) also makes a memorable appearance. By the time The Three Caballeros goes off the rails with a bizarre fantasy sequence (the aptly named Donald's Surreal Reverie), you're either in sync with the beat or not.

Melody Time stands out from other package films for a few notable segments. Once Upon a Time in Wintertime is stunning and surprisingly tense, Bumble Boogie offers a distinctive blend of color and texture, and The Legend of Johnny Appleseed is a cute retelling of the well-known tale. That being said, Melody Time suffers from a familiar problem: There is a lack of logic to the collection, which includes more traditional stories with abstract shorts that would be better suited for Fantasia. (In fact, several of the shorts in the package films were originally intended for the 1940 classic.) It's jarring to move from Little Toot, the story of an anthropomorphic boat, to Trees, a poetic (and ultimately melancholy) meditation on the changing seasons. And Blame It on the Samba is a lot of fun, but that doesn't mean much without context. Thanks to some standout animation, certain segments of Melody Time are worthy of repeat viewing, but at the end of the day, it's another package film, slapped together with little thought about what the audience might want.

Fantasia 2000 is beautiful and completely superfluous. When Walt Disney made the original Fantasia in 1940, he had planned on producing a series of films featuring both new and recurring shorts scored to classical music. (Instead we got the package films. Ah, well.) With that in mind, Fantasia 2000 is a fine idea, and it does do a great job of reflecting the staggering advances in animation since Disney's time. But there's very little substance to any of the short films here: They're pretty but empty. That would be less of a crime if Fantasia 2000 hadn't been released at the end of a decade that represented the very best of Disney Animation's storytelling abilities. And when it comes to story alone, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, recycled from the original Fantasia, remains the standout. That having been said, there are some truly stunning sequences, namely Pines of Rome (even if those levitating CGI whales haven't aged terribly well) and the climactic The Firebird, which almost makes the whole endeavor worthwhile. Almost.

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