Hey-o. I'm Chris. Soon-to-be-college-freshman. Survivor of the spinning blade-trap (a-la Legend of Zelda) of high school. Aspiring novelist. Lover of all things escapist. Mario Kart aficionado. And (for as long as this lasts), narcissistic and overly verbose blogger.
Now, for no particular reason, I've been on a Disney movie kick for the last few days. So, I'm going to list my Top 10 Disney animated features, in the hope of making some people angry enough at the absence of their favorite movies to argue and give me something to do now that I've finished my other project of the summer.
(Oh, this is just the Disney Animated Canon. No Pixar. No Touchstone. Or I'd be including Wall-E, Up, and Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and this list would be much longer.)
(Double oh. There are spoilers below. If you haven't seen some of these, go watch them. Now.)
#10 - Tangled
For most of the 2000s, Pixar was the undisputed king of CGI animation, and Disney could only counter its masterpieces with decent (but by no means spectacular) films like Meet the Robinsons and Bolt.
And then 2010 happened.
Tangled, honestly, is my least favorite of Disney's recent string of phenomenal CGI films (excluding Winnie the Pooh, which I have yet to see), and it still beats out eighty percent of their entire animated canon. The story of spunky (forgive me for using that word) Rapunzel and brash dork Flynn (ahem, Eugene) Rider strikes some hilarious comedic chords while still carrying a massive amount of dramatic punch. Not to mention, the lanterns-over-the-lake scene may be one of the most beautiful sequences of animation in Disney's entire canon (if you want to argue the point, I'm ready and willing), and the music matches the story every step of the way.
That's not to say it skimps on story, either. Something Disney's latest CGI films all share in common is an intense focus on character development and compelling plots. Rapunzel's journey into the real world creates a powerful metaphor for growing up (try and tell me the loss of her hair at the end isn't symbolic of a loss of innocence and I will tell you to retake high school English). Meanwhile, the removal of Flynn Rider's facade and his journey from thief to "person who cares for others" is, while not exactly unique, quite satisfying in the end.
Ultimately, I guess it makes sense that, to really awaken their ability to make great CGI animated features, Disney had to go back to what they always did best. Singing, dancing princesses. And it only got better from there.
#9 - Mulan
If you're actually still reading and haven't gone off to do something more interesting by now, and if you haven't already jumped to the bottom to list to see what I've ranked as #1, I'll ask you to pay attention to things that keep appearing in the films I've picked. The best Disney films, (with one small exception that you'll find later), tend to have a lot in common.
What you may notice as you go through this list is that I've placed none of Disney's early films in my Top 10. And while that may seem sacrilegious, I'll explain why here (because it relates to why Mulan is #9).
What do Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty share in common? Main female characters that do absolutely nothing of note in stories named after them. Whether adherent to their fairy tale origins or not, their casts of characters are nothing more than batches of traditional cliches. (Excluding Maleficent, who is easily one of Disney's greatest villains).
Conversely, Mulan is a story that rages against traditional Disney cliches. Waify heroine? Nope. Superpowered sidekicks? I love Mushu, but the best that dragon could do with his fire breath is light a match. Prince Charming riding in to save the day?
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Mulan succeeds because it defies Disney's historical archetypes. Because in the end, the heroine (who, by the way, is not a princess in the literal sense of the word), has to ride in with a talking dragon and a anthropomorphic cricket to save a bunch of men who were utterly hopeless without her. Because it's a story about making your own identity, instead of allowing others to control your life. And because it's the centepiece in the era where Disney finally decided to make their female characters, you know, actual characters.
Oh, and because Reflection and Make a Man Out of You are some of the best songs Disney has ever made. Seriously. Listen to the a capella section near the end of the latter and tell me it's not amazing.
#8 - Beauty and the Beast
When I started building this list, I wasn't sure if this one would make it. It's an incredible movie, but these are my favorites, and it's never really been at the top of my Disney collection. But, in the end, there was no way I could leave out the only non-Pixar animated film to EVER be nominated for Best Picture. (Yep. Look it up.)
But where do I start with Beauty and the Beast? Is it about learning to love someone's inner beauty... or is it about Stockholm Syndrome? (That thing where the kidnapped start to identify and trust their kidnappers?)
You know what? I don't really care. While Belle may not always be the greatest role model, she is a fully formed, extremely relatable character. Disney seems to have a thread of heroines who all want to escape their "provincial lives" (as she effectively puts it), and when you think about how interrelated Disney is with the common perception of childhood... it really does emerge as a metaphor for growing up, doesn't it? Stop me if you've heard this before. Teenager looks around hometown, says "I can't wait to get out of here and meet someone different—"
Yeah. Thought so.
Not to mention the supporting characters aren't Disney's usual cast of one-dimensional sidekicks. Lumiere and Cogsworth aren't there for comic relief (though they do provide quite a bit). They're humans trapped by someone else's mistake, trying to live with the prospect of being forced to live as household items... FOREVER.
And they're still friends with the guy. Wow.
Couple that with the aforementioned metaphor for inner beauty hidden behind a mask, a truly epic battle scene, and the three minutes of musical godliness that is Tale as Old as Time, and this film easily deserves a spot on this list. And that Best Picture nomination. Shame that had to be the year that Hannibal Lecter was introduced to the world of film, or it might have won.
#7 - Peter Pan
Now that I've explored a few metaphors for growing up, here's the Disney's film that's literally about that bittersweet transition from childhood to adulthood. Peter Pan, as everyone knows, is the boy that never grows up. Who lives in Neverland—past the second star to the right and straight on 'till morning.
Why is Peter Pan on my list? Honestly, I have a harder time vocalizing my love of this movie compared to the other nine on this list. The characters are pretty static, and the biggest lesson Wendy learns is... well... the one you'd expect. Being a kid forever isn't always the greatest thing in the world.
What I think it comes down to is Peter Pan's representation of childhood. Because that's what Neverland is. Eternal childhood and overactive imaginations. And while Peter and the Lost Boys go on constant adventures (when was the last time you put a bunch of pillows on the floor and pretended you were jumping over lava and searching for lost treasure? Imagine doing it for real, whenever you want), they're also menaced by a band of pirates (hey, look, the adults), that constantly threaten their ability to keep their imaginations flying high. It paints childhood as a land of imagination without subscribing to the illusion that all imagination is light and happy.
Some imagination is dark and scary. And once Wendy sees that, she decides that being a kid is fun, but an eternity of chasing treasure and evading pirates shouldn't last forever.
Because, then, how magical would it be?
#6 - Lady and the Tramp
I'm a dog person.
...I almost left it at that, which would have been funny, but maybe a little more needs to be said. The story itself isn't especially special or unique when compared to the number of Disney movies about either talking animals or wealthy/royal women (here a purebred cocker spaniel) falling in love with scoundrel thieves (here a mutt). But, you know, it just works. It's a look into the lives of a couple of fictional dogs with a plot straight from Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl," and that's all it needs to be an emotionally resonant story.
If you need more, here's my best explanation. Anyone who enjoys fiction realizes, after a while, that sometimes there are just good stories. Stories that don't have to mean anything more than they are. Stories that don't need something big or flashy to make them great. Stories that can simply stand on their own as enjoyable pieces of entertainment. That's what Lady and the Tramp is. And that's why it's on my list.
...I almost left it at that, which would have been funny, but maybe a little more needs to be said. The story itself isn't especially special or unique when compared to the number of Disney movies about either talking animals or wealthy/royal women (here a purebred cocker spaniel) falling in love with scoundrel thieves (here a mutt). But, you know, it just works. It's a look into the lives of a couple of fictional dogs with a plot straight from Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl," and that's all it needs to be an emotionally resonant story.
If you need more, here's my best explanation. Anyone who enjoys fiction realizes, after a while, that sometimes there are just good stories. Stories that don't have to mean anything more than they are. Stories that don't need something big or flashy to make them great. Stories that can simply stand on their own as enjoyable pieces of entertainment. That's what Lady and the Tramp is. And that's why it's on my list.
#5 - The Little Mermaid
Now, we're getting to the heavy hitters. Disney's top ten percent. The ones people really fight over.
Disney went through its Dark Age in the 1980s, with films like The Black Cauldron and The Fox and the Hound. Those movies, while not necessarily bad (though some were), received nowhere near the audience or acclaim of Disney's "Golden Age" films.
And then came the early 1990s, which saw a string of four films so phenomenal, all of them have, at some point in time, made the short list for the best animated feature ever made. And as you may have guessed from, well, what I wrote up there by the number five, the first of that string was Disney's adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid.
I could spend eons describing everything great about The Little Mermaid as a story and as a film. Its music is fantastic. The story is entertaining—both comedically and dramatically—and the heroine's conflict is actually quite human. (Ha. Ha. Terrible joke, I know). In essence, it's a Faustian plot wrapped up in a fairy tale love story, and opens this whole bag of comparisons about deals with the Devil and the value of one's most prized traits over what they want most. But honestly, what makes it transcend ninety percent of Disney's animated canon is simple.
The villain.
Ursula, the Sea-Witch. One of the nastiest pieces of evil the Disney team has ever created. Why? Because she's not just a brute like Gaston or an evil sorceress like Maleficent, she's a manipulator. She doesn't take what she wants... she makes people give it to her, and then damns them to an eternity of torment when they can't meet the price she crafted specifically to be out of their reach. She's not just evil. She's smart and evil. And once she starts singing "Poor Unfortunate Souls"... you know Ariel is in a giant vat of trouble.
And while some Disney villains might be satisfied with basic execution methods (ahem, falling from something really high)... Ursula decides that if she's going to die, it was going to be the most gruesome thing your six year-old eyes had ever seen. Namely, getting impaled by a ship, while, simultaneously, being struck by lightning.
That, right there, is what makes a movie great.
Now, we're getting to the heavy hitters. Disney's top ten percent. The ones people really fight over.
Disney went through its Dark Age in the 1980s, with films like The Black Cauldron and The Fox and the Hound. Those movies, while not necessarily bad (though some were), received nowhere near the audience or acclaim of Disney's "Golden Age" films.
And then came the early 1990s, which saw a string of four films so phenomenal, all of them have, at some point in time, made the short list for the best animated feature ever made. And as you may have guessed from, well, what I wrote up there by the number five, the first of that string was Disney's adaptation of Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid.
I could spend eons describing everything great about The Little Mermaid as a story and as a film. Its music is fantastic. The story is entertaining—both comedically and dramatically—and the heroine's conflict is actually quite human. (Ha. Ha. Terrible joke, I know). In essence, it's a Faustian plot wrapped up in a fairy tale love story, and opens this whole bag of comparisons about deals with the Devil and the value of one's most prized traits over what they want most. But honestly, what makes it transcend ninety percent of Disney's animated canon is simple.
The villain.
Ursula, the Sea-Witch. One of the nastiest pieces of evil the Disney team has ever created. Why? Because she's not just a brute like Gaston or an evil sorceress like Maleficent, she's a manipulator. She doesn't take what she wants... she makes people give it to her, and then damns them to an eternity of torment when they can't meet the price she crafted specifically to be out of their reach. She's not just evil. She's smart and evil. And once she starts singing "Poor Unfortunate Souls"... you know Ariel is in a giant vat of trouble.
And while some Disney villains might be satisfied with basic execution methods (ahem, falling from something really high)... Ursula decides that if she's going to die, it was going to be the most gruesome thing your six year-old eyes had ever seen. Namely, getting impaled by a ship, while, simultaneously, being struck by lightning.
That, right there, is what makes a movie great.
#4 - Frozen
I know what you're saying. "It's overhyped!" "It's not that good!" "I've heard that song a thousand times!"
Honestly, I wish Frozen had not been as hyped as it was, because the hype overshadows how excellent of a film it really is. And let me set the record straight: I was not one of the fanboys and fangirls (and I use those terms with the deepest respect), who waited years for this movie to come out, and who rushed in on opening weekend to see it on a big screen. I watched it on DVD, four months later, without high expectations. And it surprised me.
Remember how Mulan took Disney's traditional tropes and flipped them around? Frozen took the things Disney's been doing since 1937 (that's almost eighty years), flipped them upside down, drew faces on them with Sharpies, and threw them off the top of a mountain. It was a story about familial love, with a Prince Charming who was actually a cold, manipulative villain, a socially-inept sidekick who turned out to be better than said Prince Charming, a talking snowman who (I'll get there), became the deepest character in the entire film, a soon-to-be-queen going through some serious depression, and a stir-crazy, eccentric heroine who talks to paintings and throws snowballs at giant, monstrous snow-creatures when they make her mad.
I could honestly write a thesis on this film—that's how much it's made me think—but I'll stick to the short version (because there are still three films left for me to write about, and this post is getting really long). Frozen is, at its core, a metaphor for the dangers of repression. And while fairly blatant, it's also incredibly effective. ("Let it Go" anyone?) Relatability is one of the most important characteristics a story can possess, and Frozen, in its metaphorical way, may be one of Disney's most relatable films. Ever.
And since I mentioned it earlier, I'll explain why Olaf is the deepest character in the entire movie. He knows he's going to melt.
Don't believe me? Think about it. Why would he avoid saying the word "puddle" if he didn't know that that was what he would become? Still not convinced? When Anna tells him that he'll melt, he doesn't ask "what does that mean." He doesn't say "define the word melt." He shows absolutely no surprise at the fact that his face is falling apart (if he hadn't known, don't you think he would have freaked out a bit), and says "some people are worth melting for."
I know what you're saying. "It's overhyped!" "It's not that good!" "I've heard that song a thousand times!"
Honestly, I wish Frozen had not been as hyped as it was, because the hype overshadows how excellent of a film it really is. And let me set the record straight: I was not one of the fanboys and fangirls (and I use those terms with the deepest respect), who waited years for this movie to come out, and who rushed in on opening weekend to see it on a big screen. I watched it on DVD, four months later, without high expectations. And it surprised me.
Remember how Mulan took Disney's traditional tropes and flipped them around? Frozen took the things Disney's been doing since 1937 (that's almost eighty years), flipped them upside down, drew faces on them with Sharpies, and threw them off the top of a mountain. It was a story about familial love, with a Prince Charming who was actually a cold, manipulative villain, a socially-inept sidekick who turned out to be better than said Prince Charming, a talking snowman who (I'll get there), became the deepest character in the entire film, a soon-to-be-queen going through some serious depression, and a stir-crazy, eccentric heroine who talks to paintings and throws snowballs at giant, monstrous snow-creatures when they make her mad.
I could honestly write a thesis on this film—that's how much it's made me think—but I'll stick to the short version (because there are still three films left for me to write about, and this post is getting really long). Frozen is, at its core, a metaphor for the dangers of repression. And while fairly blatant, it's also incredibly effective. ("Let it Go" anyone?) Relatability is one of the most important characteristics a story can possess, and Frozen, in its metaphorical way, may be one of Disney's most relatable films. Ever.
And since I mentioned it earlier, I'll explain why Olaf is the deepest character in the entire movie. He knows he's going to melt.
Don't believe me? Think about it. Why would he avoid saying the word "puddle" if he didn't know that that was what he would become? Still not convinced? When Anna tells him that he'll melt, he doesn't ask "what does that mean." He doesn't say "define the word melt." He shows absolutely no surprise at the fact that his face is falling apart (if he hadn't known, don't you think he would have freaked out a bit), and says "some people are worth melting for."
There. I rest my case. Olaf is an embodiment of selflessness and optimism, and a representation of what it means to want something one can never have. Now, before I really do write a thesis, I should move on.
#3 - Wreck-it-Ralph
I can sense your surprise. "What? Wreck-it-Ralph? What the hell is that movie doing above films like Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid? It's a good movie, but number three in Disney's entire canon?"
Remember, back at Mulan, when I mentioned one shining exception to Disney's formula? Here it is. On the surface, Wreck-it-Ralph doesn't feel like a Disney movie. There are no musical numbers, no princesses (well, at first), the romance is between secondary characters (and really for comedic effect), and the bad guy just wants people to stop treating him like a bad guy. And instead of exploring magic and fairy tales, it explores the world of classic video games (creating quite possibly the most vibrant and complex world in Disney's entire canon).
In fact, Wreck-it-Ralph, with its zany intelligence and humor, almost feels like a Pixar movie, because it has the one thing that all of Pixar's greatest films share.
Heart.
Ralph just wants to be appreciated beyond his appointed role in life. Vanellope just wants to do what she knows she was born (ahem, coded) to do. Their conflicts are both internal and external, and both are intensely personal. They are characters that an audience can root for without second thought, which sets their story apart from Disney's swathe of hard-to-relate, externally conflicted heroes.
Wreck-it-Ralph, at its core, is a film about identity, outcasts, and the true nature of heroism. It's about accepting what you are, both outside and inside, and that sets it apart from the mass of films about secretly beautiful people or epic quests and journeys. And its execution of those themes is stellar—so much so that it can be summed up in just the simple bad-anon oath.
"I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be, than me."
It's not subtle... but when has Disney ever been subtle? Nope. Wreck-it-Ralph owns its themes, it owns its characters and its plot, and it owns its overflowing overabundance of heart. It's not afraid to be what it is. A truly fantastic film.
#2 - The Lion King
Naaaaaaaaaants ingonyaaaamaaa bagiti, Baba...
And with a Zulu phrase that translates to "Here comes a lion, Father," probably the most magnificent, awe-inspiring beginning in animated film history (let me know if you can think of a better opening number than "Circle of Life," because I can't) came into being, and the world was introduced to The Lion King.
The story of Simba is, in essence, a combination of everything Disney does best. Its music (composed by the legendary Elton John) is utterly stellar, from the aforementioned "Circle of Life," to "Can You Feel the Love Tonight," to the utterly demonic "Be Prepared." As an adaption... well Disney decided to take a departure from fairy tales into Shakespeare (though the resemblance to Hamlet is honestly, pretty loose), and it worked out beautifully. Talking animals? Check. Moral lessons? Check. Pure epicness? Check. Evil villain? Check.
The Lion King is another Disney movie about growing up, but its one of the few to actually depict its characters both as children and as adults. That gives it the ability to show the repercussions of Simba's actions, and to allow him to take up his role as a hero. Climactic and demonic, exploring all the good and evil of humanity (the sequence of the hyenas marching in the wasteland was modeled after Nazi Germany... take a second to think about the power behind that imagery)—The Lion King treads around theme of birthrights and responsibility, and is one of the few Disney movies to truly explore the death of a parent beyond its use as a plot device (I love you, Frozen, but still). Over the course of the film, Simba becomes a fully realized character—a round, dynamic, hero of the best possible kind. The Lion King is a feat of imagination and filmmaking (not just animation, but filmmaking in general—a work of magnificent humanity, of pain and empathy, set to incredible music and drawn to brilliant life.
Honorable Mentions
Before I get to number one, there are a few movies I have to mention (we'll call them Honorable Mentions) because I remember loving them, but it's been so many years since I've seen them that I can't make a good argument for their spot on this list. In no particular order, they are: Treasure Planet, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. And now...
#1 - Aladdin
If I had to credit one film of my childhood for my love of magic and mystery, there's no question in my mind which it would be. While The Lion King may have the most majestic opening in animated film history, Aladdin's "Arabian Nights" is by far my favorite. A mysterious peddler riding through an faraway city, about to tell a story about a seemingly innocuous golden lamp, with a slow, intriguing melody plays on drums and strings... it still makes me excited. (If you weren't sure, it's where I got the title for this post). And I'm almost nineteen.
Like the best stories, Aladdin is the combination of multiple narratives. One is the tale of a lonely outcast who longs for a better life, but who never really feels like the hero (I'll argue that Aladdin is the closest Disney really comes to the realm of antiheroes). Another is a tale of a greedy vizier who knows that magic is real, and seeks the greatest power of all. A third, an incredibly powerful being living in slavery and longing not for more strength, but for freedom. A fourth, a heroine reaching for escape from a monotonous life. And when they combine... a compelling plot and a magical atmosphere that feels both normal and strange. Natural, yet mysterious.
Magic, contributed by a genie in a lamp. Robin Williams, Rest in Peace. You made this movie great.
Alright, now that I've gotten that off my chest, I've got to mention the music. Aladdin's soundtrack is another of Disney's very best, and the film perfectly balances the use of its songs with its dialogue (something that can't always be said for musicals). "Friend Like Me" is a classic, and I'd argue the greatest character introduction in Disney's canon. "Prince Ali" is an exercise in extravagance, that perfectly reflects the film's theme of Aladdin's shame at his status and his need for a facade. "A Whole New World" stands with "Tale as Old as Time" as Disney's best love songs, and it truly captures Jasmine's exhilaration at finally experiencing life outside the palace walls.
In the end, while not the flashiest or most climactic of Disney's myriad of films, Aladdin, from its world to its characters to its powerful storytelling, is a masterpiece, and my pick for Disney's best animated movie. Ever.
The End
Are you seriously still here? You mean you actually read all of that? Wow. I'd give you a cookie, but I'd have to get out of my chair, and I'm too lazy for that. Anyway, thanks for reading. Come back sometime, and maybe I'll have had something else to say.
No promises though.
If I had to credit one film of my childhood for my love of magic and mystery, there's no question in my mind which it would be. While The Lion King may have the most majestic opening in animated film history, Aladdin's "Arabian Nights" is by far my favorite. A mysterious peddler riding through an faraway city, about to tell a story about a seemingly innocuous golden lamp, with a slow, intriguing melody plays on drums and strings... it still makes me excited. (If you weren't sure, it's where I got the title for this post). And I'm almost nineteen.
Like the best stories, Aladdin is the combination of multiple narratives. One is the tale of a lonely outcast who longs for a better life, but who never really feels like the hero (I'll argue that Aladdin is the closest Disney really comes to the realm of antiheroes). Another is a tale of a greedy vizier who knows that magic is real, and seeks the greatest power of all. A third, an incredibly powerful being living in slavery and longing not for more strength, but for freedom. A fourth, a heroine reaching for escape from a monotonous life. And when they combine... a compelling plot and a magical atmosphere that feels both normal and strange. Natural, yet mysterious.
Magic, contributed by a genie in a lamp. Robin Williams, Rest in Peace. You made this movie great.
Alright, now that I've gotten that off my chest, I've got to mention the music. Aladdin's soundtrack is another of Disney's very best, and the film perfectly balances the use of its songs with its dialogue (something that can't always be said for musicals). "Friend Like Me" is a classic, and I'd argue the greatest character introduction in Disney's canon. "Prince Ali" is an exercise in extravagance, that perfectly reflects the film's theme of Aladdin's shame at his status and his need for a facade. "A Whole New World" stands with "Tale as Old as Time" as Disney's best love songs, and it truly captures Jasmine's exhilaration at finally experiencing life outside the palace walls.
In the end, while not the flashiest or most climactic of Disney's myriad of films, Aladdin, from its world to its characters to its powerful storytelling, is a masterpiece, and my pick for Disney's best animated movie. Ever.
The End
Are you seriously still here? You mean you actually read all of that? Wow. I'd give you a cookie, but I'd have to get out of my chair, and I'm too lazy for that. Anyway, thanks for reading. Come back sometime, and maybe I'll have had something else to say.
No promises though.
