Why is it so important that “It was all started by a mouse”? Walt Disney, the creator of what is now a vast entertainment empire made it clear that we ought not lose sight of that “one thing”. There were many things I’m sure that Walt wished his company and, ultimately, the world not forget, but he made this wish a special enough case to say out loud in front of millions of television views, and it is still remembered. Possibly it was a reminder that our limitless future holds no meaning without a framework provided by fond reminiscences of our past. Perhaps it is a statement about his own humble beginnings and eventual triumphs, that a seemingly gigantic world of magic started with the meekest, and smallest of animals. What Walt was saying undoubtedly hinted at all these things and many more, but it is equally worth noting that, regardless of his personal triumphs and successes, he asks that a CHARACTER be remembered more so than a human being. The importance of it all being started by a mouse, is then, possibly, the contrast to the obvious truth of it: It was all started by Walt Disney. Walt Disney was unable to pass his genius down in full, no genius is quite gifted enough to ever full accomplish that, but he left us with living examples of his genius in the characters that he created, and those that he inspired others to create.
I think, therefore, that Walt Disney would be very proud of the what his company has created since his passing, at least in the field nearest and dearest to his heart: animation. From 1928 to 2016 and on, a stream of unforgettable Disney characters has been introduced to the public of this world and made lasting impressions on that public’s collective heart. In just the last 5 years, Disney animation has branded onto the consciousness of millions Anna, Elsa, and Olaf from Frozen, Tiana and Naveen from Princess and the Frog, and Judy Hopps and Nick Wild from Zootopia to name a few. These are just some examples of Disney heroes who have spoken to us personally, and they all have Mickey Mouse to thank for that, because whether human, snowman, frog, fox, or bunny these animated figures have all had a real, relatable humanity. You see, Mickey Mouse, was not just Walt’s example of what an animated character could do, but instead WHO an animated character could BE. Mickey Mouse communicated, through his micromanaged every sound and movement, a personality, a set of traits, and even values that his creator wanted to share, and that people wanted to see. Let this point be made very clearly: Disney heroes represent Disney philosophies. Company philosophies will evolve over time, especially in entertainment, but I do not believe Disney has every created a hero or heroine which it did not fully believe in. This formula of characters saturated in the company’s positive values has paid off in huge dividends, most recently in Walt Disney Studio’s Moana, and as I wrote this, between Walt Disney’s 115th birthday and the 50th anniversary of his death, I could think of no better example of his legacy of character creation, than that of Moana. Not just because Moana is the latest and greatest example of everything Disney knows how to do right (which it certainly is). But because in so many ways, the characters in Moana remind us how far we’ve come while still reminding us “it was all started by a mouse.”
To those who may have already been slightly turned away by my pixy-dust spewing rhetoric, I’ll try to limit further emotional platitudes. So, feel free to read on, even if the Disney brand doesn’t give you an immediate warm glow, as it does me. From where I’m sitting, however, Moana is practically a textbook on Disney’s ever balanced concepts of progressiveness and tradition communicated through character building. Additionally, it is very smart, very self-aware, and it offers its audience two fascinating, well-rounded central characters. You may be surprised by which of these two I am choosing to highlight in depth. While the title character, Moana, is a slam-dunk lead character, worthy of her own compendium of positive opinion, it is in her counterpart, Maui, with whom the creators of the film actual strike a Disney chord stronger than perhaps they even intended to. Underneath the exciting, comedic, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, stylization, Maui is a Disney diamond in the rough, requiring a good deal of unearthing.
Not wanting to leave Moana completely in the dust though, a few opinions on her character’s brilliance seem appropriate before I move on. From Snow White to Mulan, Cinderella to Tiana, Disney Studios has always done its best at giving us either the heroine we deserve or the one we need right now. In a wild fit of fanaticism, I have concluded Moana to be both. The Disney Company has often appeared to juggle philosophies which, on the surface, seem contradictory. A philosophy of simplicity, selflessness, and family (think Cinderella) doesn’t quite gel with that of pioneering, innovation, and individuality (think Ariel). Moana, a chieftain’s daughter whose acts of courage and individuality are done on behalf of her family accomplishes both and better than ever before. Which is not to say this has not been done before. Mulan and Tarzan are other modern examples of these concepts inhabiting a lead character (coincidentally all three are title characters) in new and inspiring ways, but Moana, helped along by her spunky personality, and a rousing musical score, ranks for me as the most successful example to date. The fact that these multidimensional character examples have become more prevalent this side of the year 2000 should be taken as a compliment to modern audiences, in that today’s audiences are receptive to such character nuances without any sense of contradiction. To this end, I think there is a lot which Walt Disney would appreciate about modern movie-goers. I repeat, however, that praising Moana is not the point of this exploration. You need only to see the movie (for the first time or again), to cheer for her more. Instead I switch focus to the promethean character who plays a fascinating second fiddle, namely the demi-god, Maui.
Maui is an instantly interesting character, firstly, because he is not to be trusted. In opposition to the title character whose life story is laid out before the audience in montage, Maui is a mystery. Before his character is fully introduced, he is already characterized as a “trickster”, and that very lack of trust, draws an audience into a need for more information. Added to that, his physical appearance featuring living tattoos, and ability to shapeshift is an animation fan’s dream come true. He is both a narrative and visual story to be told, with the appropriate animation studio to tell it, because Maui, in his essence, is an uncanny reminder of Walt Disney’s legacy. The man who made a spunky little mouse whose stubbornness, tenacity, and optimism reflected that man’s own innovative American spirit, might well have created this characterization of the Polynesian demi-god, because hidden in Moana’s Maui is a foggy representation of the company patriarch himself. Of course, Maui is more complex than an overt depiction of Walt Disney, because Disney was and is more than just a man (conveniently, so is the character of Maui). Therefore, any modern depiction of Walt Disney would be informed by the now 50 years since his death. Added to this, producers and their staff may not have known that their comical co-lead was as linked to the studio’s creator as he is. It could very well be that the producers and writers in creating Moana simply fleshed out the characterization of a demi-god with human hang-ups from a shared knowledge of an equally mythical personality existing prominently in the history of their company. But regardless, Maui is so steeped in Disney company identity that the founder can be found in him. Several archetypal traits found in Maui have parallels to Disney and his company, both historically and in modern mindset.
One such shared trait is a dichotomy I have already hinted at. The confusion between legend and truth, and, more importantly, a quality of relative indifference toward either. Disney biographers disagree on several points but there is very much a consensus on this one: Walt the man, and Walt the public figure were different. It’s one of the things that necessitates so much history to still be written and read. From Snow White to the end of his life, Walt struggled with his status as a “living legend”. The famous Walt paraphrase provided by biographer Neil Gabler is “I do a lot of things Walt Disney doesn’t do. Walt Disney doesn’t smoke, I smoke. Walt Disney doesn’t drink, I drink.” In Moana, the brunt of Maui’s character building is accomplished through stripping away the myth from the man. Maui’s initial introduction in the film, prior to being met in the actual events of the plot, is presented through a fable told by Moana’s grandmother. It’s worth noting two things. First, Moana, and thus the audience, forms an opinion of Maui long before she meets him in person. Second, that Grandmother’s story is proved factually inaccurate on certain points as the plot progresses. Walt Disney, likewise has in the modern day transcended legend to reach “myth” and details of his life have been, by this point, regurgitated so many times, that few, especially the company’s public front, care whether the public is given facts or mythos. Misquotes are attributed to him on a regular basis. A Disney mantra “If you can dream it, you can do it” was written by Imagineer Tom Fitzgerald in 1980, yet somehow the quote has been retroactively assigned to the man who died in 1966. In this, we see that it is more than simply the myth/man dichotomy that draws Disney and Maui together. It is also their indifference to the truth. When Maui first appears in person, he throws additional material on Moana’s already long list of titles for him just to impress the weight of his image. He even signs her oar with his recognizable branding symbol. Maui is contented to be admired as an idea, but shrinks at every turn from Moana’s contact with his realities. He would rather be remembered for his grand contributions, which, by coincidence is the second correlation between these respective giants: Their associations with innovations and accolades.
“What can I say except, you’re welcome?”, asks Maui with a memorable lyric, but to see this prideful boast in the context of the parallels I am suggesting, we’re going to have to consult subtext, because, at least in the matter of public records, Walt Disney never so brashly bragged about how great he was; he was too smart for that. Yet, in Maui’s exaggerated case, he is only asking for credit where he believes credit is due. We consider, then, the possibility that Walt Disney, if he were still alive today, might do the same. After all, he was hailed in his time as a genius for a great many things. The creation of Mickey Mouse earned him an individual Oscar, despite the giant contribution of animator Ub Iwerks. The invention of the multiplane camera resulted in him being hailed as visionary, while, again, Iwerks was the inventor of the technology and Walt merely the introducer of the technology to the world. In his song, Maui takes credit for, among other things, tides, coconut trees, fire, and, while the accuracy of each individual claim is insignificant to the overall plot, there is no telling where the truth ends and the boasts begin. Walt himself did not eschew credit or deflect adoration for his innovations to other worthy recipients (such as Iwerks), mainly because he was privately chagrinned that many people failing to recognize some of his other contributions. The classic example is Snow White. Praised as a genius, Walt was given an honorary Oscar for the film that was regarded an instant masterpiece, though privately he was perturbed that his film was overlooked for the Best Picture nomination. In Walt’s mind, accepting full credit for things that weren’t all his doing, balanced his resentment for that which he received too little acclaim. So, what would he say for his contributions which actually earned him recognition? Merely “You’re Welcome” (paraphrased).
Maui’s curious, if not ironic motivations for enriching human kind rings a familiar bell as well, not just in the life of Walt Disney, but in the greater American tapestry into which Walt Disney is so thoroughly woven. A theme that drives the American story from culture defining literature in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby to culture defining non-fiction cinema in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher’s The Social Network, (not to mention comically related if slightly less impactful country music hits like Toby Keith’s “How Do You Like Me Now?”), is a sometimes tragic inclination for men of greatness to prove themselves to those who have rejected them. The defining plot twist of Maui’s character development is the revelation of his human roots. Cast out by his human parentage, he is elevated to power by the gods, but in a promethean twist he commits his godly existence to enriching human kind. Walt Disney was known to have had long existing tensions with his unaffectionate, proletarian father, and even so he rejected the elevation of Hollywood society to become a champion for the common man. Likely due to the Oscar snub of Snow White followed by the critical denunciation of his equally ambitious Fantasia, Walt’s later career flaunted the Americana and nostalgia of his short-lived small-town childhood, and emphasized family as a central theme in many of his productions and projects. His disillusionment with Hollywood elitism may have even manifested in his lashing out against a perceived communist threat when he famously testified as a friendly witness for the House un-American Activities Committee during the height of the red scare. While many see that move as a reaction to the union hostilities he had fielded during the animators’ strike of 1941, what better way to shore up his connection with common American ideals? But I digress. The point I cannot avoid making is this, though: despite the culturally diverse character inspiration of Maui, his core mythos is as wrought with Walt Disney’s reverberating American spirit as any character the studio has created.
Which leads us to the final thing that make both figures so ingenious, compelling, and connected. The thing which sparks viewer imaginations, their shared affinity for magic. Walt Disney and this character Disney’s studio has produced nearly 50 years after his death share a knack for doing the impossible (with great flair and self-confidence). They are in their ways both tricksters, and they are both shapeshifters; attributes which make them both great magicians. Walt Disney’s early attraction to the art of animation was greatly due to its magical qualities, including a strange juxtaposition between the commercial idea of magic as illusion, and more fantastic connotations of true sorcery. For Walt, it started as a sideshow fascination around “the trick of making things move on film”, but as he pioneered the genre with Silly Symphonie featurettes and full length fairy tales, Walt Disney became more and more a true wizard with his art form, unlocking its limitless potential. In Moana Maui’s wizardry walks a similar line of trickery and godly power. His resourcefulness and timely shapeshifting present him as a magical showman of sorts, but at the same time there is clearly awesome, godly greatness in his giant fish hook. Additionally, if his boasts are too be believed, his accomplishments regarding coconut trees have reaped more tactile benefits than a mere illusion. The dichotomy between exuberant resourcefulness and authentic wizardry makes its way into one of the most iconic Disney creations. A project which Walt was very near to was the animated short “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”. In LIFE Magazine’s 2016 special addition chronicling Walt’s life and legacy, the author suggests an autobiographical element of the cartoon by asking “Was Walt himself the Sorcerer, wielding the power that allowed him to produce unparalleled wonders? Or was he Mickey, a novice dabbling in in magic that he was ultimately unable to control.” Maui’s character, a human with godlike powers, has his own “Sorcerer’s Apprentice” moment when he goes out of his depth by stealing the heart of Tafiti., the mother goddess. Like Mickey, Mouse in the short, he wishes only to use his cleverness and ingenuity for good, but his actions have unseen and uncontrollable consequence. Therefore, if it is to be believed that The Sorcerer’s Apprentice sprung from real elements of Walt’s life, this parallel can be extrapolated forward in time and connect the famed animation entrepreneur to this 21st century character who he never saw, but likely would very much have rooted for.
If you’ve continued reading this far, you’re probably noticing I’ve travelled a long way from discussing Walt’s wish that we not lose sight of Mickey’s early contributions, but honestly, the great characters in Moana are the proof that we haven’t lost that sight. Not just for the broader reasons I offered earlier regarding the continued Disney tradition of characters who inspire the imagination, but because Maui’s Walt parallels would be incomplete without Mickey Mouse. A popular discussion on Walt Disney which will never fully be concluded, is his relationship to his most famous character. While it is mostly agreed that Walt certainly did not see Mickey’s character as completely autobiographical, various interpretations conclude that the two were/are complimentary, and intrinsically linked personalities. As Walt animated Mickey, Mickey too animated Walt. In the case of Maui, his natures of trickster and shapeshifter are brilliant design fodder for animation, but, as I mentioned earlier, so is his most interesting physical trait, his living tattoos, telling the stories that have defined his life. This god’s greatest achievements being depicted in two dimensional stories very clever connection to the legacy of Walt Disney’s which is literally made of two dimensional stories. Most important of all things tattooed on Maui’s body is his animated alter ego. Yes, Maui has his own Mickey Mouse; a simply drawn personality, a living piece of moving art which is integral in shaping the actions and feelings of its creator, a reflection of his creator’s better self. And for all the state -of -the -art computer animation in Moana, it is this black inked two -dimensional comical diversion that reminds us that, while we’ve come so far, we never lost sight of the Mouse.
It’s been 50 years since Walt Disney passed and, from where I’m sitting, fondly reminiscing about the studio’s latest triumph, I’d say so far, so good. I, for one, am happy and proud to say that Walt Disney got his wish. We haven’t lost sight of the magic that all started in 1928 when “Steamboat Willie” hit cinemas. We’ve gone far, but in true Disney fashion we haven’t gone so far that we can’t remember how we got here. History has a way of crystalizing certain events, and it truly is amazing that so many of Walt Disney’s landmark accomplishments, from “Steamboat Willie,” to Snow White, to Disneyland and on have been crystallized not just in the consciousness of Disney fans, or the entertainment world, but in the greater American consciousness. So as Disney, America, and humanity plows onward into the 21st century, whether we wish we could turn back the calendar to a simpler day or are convinced that the future is better than anything we’ve known before is all a matter of perspective. It’s important to remember a man who espoused and lived out both concepts equally. He left us a road map for doing just that when he showed us that one mouse could unlock boundless worlds of untold creation.
I’m going to see Rogue One tonight, if anyone was interested to know, or hadn’t guessed.
A Mann's Lesser Hoff 