Oh, the sad cultural loss that comes from rigidity and misunderstanding.
A good friend visited the Magic Kingdom two years ago with her children. Her oldest son quickly noted that almost every attraction there was based on a Disney animation classic.
But he drew a
complete blank when they arrived at Splash Mountain. My friend had seen SOTS many years before as a child, so the ride was particularly rich for her. But her son (like 99% of the children who go through this attraction) was
deprived of that, left wondering during the gussied-up flume ride what the meaning was behind all the little animals running around.
But that's apparently fine with some people here. Use the iconography,
but hide where it came from and what it says.
But it gets worse. The mindset behind that censorship is driven by a dark, revisionist philosphy of reviewing the past. One that states that a film made sixty-six years ago
must comply with modern mores. Yes, SOTS shouldn't be a celebration of the bond between a child and a mentor. No, the dynamics should play on the suspicions and frictions between the cultures, include dark machinery, legal actions and certainly more venomous dialogue.
That mindset completely ignores the fact that what Walt Disney created in 1946 is masterful storytelling. Despite a range of characters (some much less sympathetic than others) we are rooting for everyone by the end of the film,
because everyone wants the best for the kid and nobody questions their motives. You rarely find this kind of power in modern scripts - especially scripts that are this simple and straightforward. There is no pretense or "agenda" machinery,
nobody is trying to make a case, make a point, or prove anything - it's just a story about love and a summer in a place that a child should and would never forget.
Yes, never.
Because this story behind this film includes a stunning list of contributors. The script (attributed primarily to Dalton Reymond but including six other writers) is a charming, evocative adaptation of the Brer Rabbit stories of Joel Chandler Harris, brilliantly adapted for the screen with their wonderful patois.
The vibrant color photography by the great Greg Tolland is simply dripping with the atmosphere of the rural American south.
And the animation sequences, directed by Wilfred Jackson, are arguably some
of the finest work that has ever come out of the Disney studio. Most are funny, terrifically staged vignettes (the tar-baby sequence is particularly memorable) and all are melded beautifully into the live action. There is one particularly incredible moment when Uncle Remus shares his pipe with a frog, strikes a match and casts his fishing-rod, where the action flares in three dimensional fashion from reality to fantasy.
The movie is also full of wonderful music; the classic Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah number, but also a plethora of traditional african melodies - no less than ten songwriters are credited.
As others have observed, James Baskett is simply unforgettable as the big-hearted Remus (tibit: he also does the voice of Brer Fox) with the kids (Driscoll, Leedy and Patten) delivering performances far beyond what one normally saw from child actors in the 40s.
But no, the censors have decided
none of that matters. Yep, because of the old South Imagery and presence of so-called "happy darkies" this thing needs to be buried (or among the even more livid, "burned".) And that generations born after 1975 must be deprived of the opportunity to enjoy what Walt felt was one of his greatest achievements.
What a noble goal.
Song of the South rocks
People who want to ban it are fools
Song of the South rocks