Once Upon A Disney #25: The Black Cauldron

Last month was one of those rare occurrences where the Disney film matched the tone of the season. Just as the Hallows were weening, and we'd decked our humble abode with pumpkins, goblets, and spooky lanterns, it was time to settle down to a dark fantasy of... very '80s proportions. Hubble bubble, toil and trouble, it's time to take a look into... 

The Black Cauldron (1985)

When you take 'one-pot cooking' a little too far

Having never watched this film before — it seems Disney doesn't often acknowledge its existence — The Black Cauldron has been on my watch list for some time. Many endorse it as an underrated classic, which usually means it's actually pretty rubbish but it's edgy to like it. I'll withhold judgement to keep the suspense. 

Some scene-setting: The Black Cauldron is based on the first two books in Lloyd Alexander's The Chronicles of Prydain series, which is, in turn, based on Welsh mythology. Set in the mythical land of Prydain during the Early Middle Ages, the film centres on the evil Horned King who hopes to secure an ancient magical object known as The Black Cauldron that will aid him in his desire to conquer the world. He is opposed by a young pig keeper named Taran, the young princess Eilonwy, the bard Fflewddur Fflam, and a wild creature named Gurgi who seek to destroy the Cauldron, to prevent the Horned King from ruling the world.

'HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I ASKED YOU TO TAKE THE BIN OUT!'

Ok, so I may have copied and pasted that primer from The Black Cauldron's Fandom page. But there is a lot of exposition. And Welsh names. Plus, I'll write it off as a cheeky plug for my place of work. Anyway, you get the idea that this is a pretty typical fantasy story, complete with a Halloween-worthy villain, hero, princess, some cute creatures, etc. They also throw in some witches and pixies for good measure. 

The Black Cauldron basically delivers on its dark fantasy promise. The first Disney film to get a PG rather than U rating, it allows for a pretty nightmarish villain who embraces his dark side. The Horned King spends much of the film skulking in the shadows, his demonic face occasionally looming into view for terrorizing effect. However, his similarity to Skeletor of He-Man fame did dilute his mysticism just a little bit. 

When Boris gives us another month of lockdown

Taking on this horned horror is our hapless hero, Taran — and he really is pretty clueless. Reminiscent of Arthur in Disney's The Sword in the Stone — complete with truly terrible voice acting — Taran wants nothing more than to star in his own adventure and be a true warrior. The only problem is that he's pretty useless at everything. Firstly, he's given one job. Deliver the adorable, magical pig Hen Wen — who conveniently is able to locate the cauldron though a piggy trance —  to safety. Which means keeping her hidden and not letting the Horned King gets his mitts on her. So of course, he IMMEDIATELY loses her, within about 200m of the cottage, letting her get scooped up by a couple of crows and taken directly to the Horned King's castle. 

Me when presented with a sports bat of any kind

The film follows a strong pattern of Taran getting carried away by his own bravado and desperation to be a warrior, getting into trouble, and then having others save his arrogant behind — including the pretty cheaply drawn princess Eilonwy. The two have a kind Peter Pan and Wendy relationship, where he's openly sexist and she writes it off as 'boys will be boys.' And then you have the third wheel in the adventure party — Fflewddur Fflam, a 60-something-year-old bard who seems to be directly from a Monty Python film. The fact that the most complex, developed character is a dog/monkey hybrid who speaks like Donald Duck is saying something. 

They thought those were just regular mushrooms... 

All-in-all, The Black Cauldron was not as bad as I feared. It has a well-paced plot, a good villain, and a satisfying redemption arc or two. However, you can't shake the feeling that it's lacking the quality that the studio has been able to deliver in the past, and will do again. The animation style and script feel very generically '80s, like something you'd watch on a Saturday morning with your Cocoa pops. I'm looking forward to enjoying some more rich, sumptuous Disney magic soon. 

Major Abu vibes

Villain Rating: 7/10 — While he is ultimately pretty useless, the Horned King does cut a pretty menacing figure which was sure to terrify kids at the time

Best Song: No songs in this one! Probably for the best, as judging by some of the weak moments in the storyline, they would have probably shoe-horned something sub-par in, a la Sword in the Stone 

Disney Detail: Apparently Tinkerbell has a cameo in the fairfolk scene, but I'll have to rewatch it to spot her

Why it's a Classic: It's definitely an underdog and seems to have gone down in history as more of a cult classic than a traditional classic. I think it's been defended so staunchly over the years because it is actually half-decent. Some of the other 'classics' are actually harder to watch than this rough diamond, which is a fairly well-paced fantasy adventure with a genuinely scary villain and a satisfying resolution. 

Once Upon A Disney #24: The Fox and the Hound

It's not the '70s anymore. Wave the cute mice and moderate peril behind. Things are taking a dark turn this week with the gut-wrenching... 

The Fox and the Hound (1981) 

I approached this film with a fair degree of trepidation — having only watched it once as a child, it was promptly banished from my family's rotational Disney viewing for being deemed too upsetting. Sitting down to watch it again, some 20 years later, I was sure it couldn't have been quite as distressing as I remembered. I was wrong. 

Back when swimming pools were a thing... sigh

From the opening titles, you can tell that this isn't going to be the fuzzy family favourite that most Disney animations promise. In place of a romantic orchestra or a cheesy choir, is a score more akin to a thriller.  Spooky strings are the only form of music, underlying the sound of a stark breeze, and the occasional forest creature. In fact, it's like we've been plunged straight into the most harrowing part of Bambi — complete with the protagonist's parent, this time a fox, being shot in the first 5 minutes. Welcome to the danger zone, kids. 

While large portions of the proceeding story try to lighten the mood — with the introduction of a kindly old lady who takes care of our orphaned fox Tod, and an unlikely friendship forming between Tod and the neighbouring hunting dog, Copper — the film never quite shakes off the sense of doom set up at the beginning. 

We could all do with a Big Mama hug right now — especially after watching this traumatic film

A motherly (if racially stereotyped) owl, called Big Mama — yes, really — narrates the story in a reassuring fashion, bolstering the more light-hearted moments. Baby Tod and Copper are genuinely adorable, playing together in the innocence of youth. Big Mama doesn't seem to think it wise to bring up the fact that one of them will be conditioned to kill the other at some point. Boys will be boys, after all. There's also a forced comical sub-plot with a couple of other birds trying to hunt down and eat a worm, that evades them all year round. But they're not distracting us from the inevitable heartbreak and trauma. 

It's difficult to tell exactly what message this film is trying to portray. If it's anti-hunting, then picking on this one highly unusual tale doesn't quite do the job. If it's anti-men, then it's a bit more effective. Copper's owner, Amos, is a hunting man through-and-through, and absolutely brutal when it comes to adding foxes to his collection. For some reason, even though his truck is chock-full of pelts, he's determined to shoot his neighbour's pet fox — his neighbour being a ridiculously sweet old widow. 

Guaranteed he'd refuse to wear a mask

For Widow Tweed, Tod is the only thing that brings her joy. She gives all her love to this abandoned fox, who becomes like a child to her. And now this DICK, Amos, makes her drive all the way to a game reserve to say goodbye to her beloved pet, for fear of him being unnecessarily killed out of pettiness. It's horribly upsetting. But at least Tod is safe now right? WRONG. Amos only goes and trespasses on to the reserve with newly-killer-trained Copper in tow, still intent on finishing off the poor guy. This is getting psychotic. 

No-one has business creating these kinds of scenes 😭

Here's where I was really left fuming though. After a traumatic chase, involving Tod and his lady fox being trapped in a fiery tree, a fight with a colossal and terrifying bear, and falling down a huge waterfall, Copper and Tod finally put their rivalries aside and save each other.  Very sweet. And Amos finally yields and lets Tod live. The bloody least he can do. 

But — get this — while Widow Tweed has every right to never speak to the bastard again, and move far, far away, she actually warms to Amos. She nurses his injuries with simply an eye roll. Guys, I'm done. 

My anger levels when Amos called Widow Tweed a soft 'female' 

Anyway, that was The Fox and the Hound, a waste of tears. It's going back in the vault for me. 

Villain Rating: I realised I lost this section part-way through this challenge, but I think Amos the demon allows me to bring it back. You guessed it — 10/10 for sheer malice and persistence to kill, just for the glory

Best Song: All the songs are pretty weak, but I'll pick 'Goodbye May Seem Forever,' because the whole sequence is genuinely heart-breaking 

Disney Detail: Copper's mentor dog, Chief, has that distinctive Disney drawl given to many of its hounds, especially the duo in The Aristocats. Also, the Bambi parallels are suitably unsettling. 

Why it's a Classic: The character animation is up-to-scratch, and I suppose we can call it 'the traumatic '80s one.' Unless one of the next movies blows it out of the water. 

Once Upon A Disney #23: The Rescuers

Good news: We're only five films away from the Disney Renaissance.

Bad news: There might be a few duffers in between. 

Great news: This week is an absolute gem (or diamond, to be precise) of a film. Get ready to take flight, because it's time to bask in the glory of... 

The Rescuers (1977)

This film has always been a favourite of my household, so it holds a fond place in my heart. From the opening credits, where little orphan Penny sends out her message in a bottle to the tune of 'The Journey' (more recognised as 'Who Will Rescue Me?') the painterly landscapes promise a sumptuous adventure with sweetness at its core. It makes you want to grab a blanket and cup of tea, and snuggle down for the evening. Which is basically what I did. 

Dropping your 50th bottle of beer into the recycling

The film really takes off when we're introduced to the mouse version of the United Nations in New York, the 'Rescue Aid Society.' We're invited into a whole miniature world existing within our own, full of charming details — like mice gathering in a large suitcase to hold a summit meeting, the janitor reaching into a glass bottle by using a comb as a ladder. 

During said meeting, we meet the glamorous Miss Bianca, Hungary's representative. Voiced by Eva Gabor, whose voice you may recognise as Duchess in The Aristocats,  she's not short on male attention. But when it comes to taking on the assignment to rescue Penny, she chooses the hapless but loveable Bernard — the janitor. It turns out they're a match made in rodent heaven. Yes, we stan Bernard and Bianca. 

Discovering the nearest pub is 20 miles away 

As if two mice falling in love wasn't sweet enough, there's our orphan-in-distress, Penny. Lamenting the fact that no-one wants to adopt her (even though she's impossibly cute) her only friend is the orphanage cat, Rufus. Basically a grandpa in cat form, he proceeds to tell her how special she is with a super schmaltzy poem, emitting old-school 'When You Wish Upon A Star' vibes. It's a cheap trick, but I was welling up. 

'I've binged every Netflix show and it's only September'

Finally, you have Madame Medusa, who is terrifying and fabulous in equal measure. Based more than loosely on Cruella De Vil — right down to her maniacal driving style — Medusa is all skin, bones, jewels, and mascara. With her huge crocodile henchmen, she has eyes all over the Devil's Bayou and will take no prisoners to get her prize — the Devil's Eye diamond. 

I can feel this 😷

While the relationship between the Medusa and the defiant yet scared Penny just about holds the tension of the plot together, what really shines is the blossoming romance that underlies Bernard and Bianca's rescue mission. One of the highlights of the film is when they use the Albatross Air Service to fly from New York. Bernard's intense fear of flying at take-off gives way to a romantic sky-bound journey, much like the 'A Whole New World' sequence in Aladdin — But set to a much more Burt Bacharach-style song. Bianca's open affection for Bernard from the beginning, calling him darling and leaning on his shoulder, is refreshingly heart-warming. 

When you look back on your Tidal Wave photo from Thorpe Park 

Like in One Hundred and One Dalmatians, the local animals — in this case, some hillbilly swamp critters and an adorable dragonfly named Evinrude — pitch in to help Bernard and Bianca reach Penny. The difference between this and previous Disney films is that the animals and children can talk to each other, which means that Penny can hatch a plan to escape with the help of her new mousey friends. 

Following some musical-fuelled peril involving crocodile claws, HORRIBLE bats, menacing whirlpools, and fireworks, The Rescuers delivers that happily ever after we all crave from a Disney film, and sets up a new story which will follow 13 years later. The Rescuers has it all: Romance, adventure, a terrifying villain, and some super '70s pop songs. 

Every outfit is *chef's kiss*

Best Song: 'Someone's Waiting For You' is a really sweet song, placed at the perfect moment in the film to tug at your heart-strings. Just as orphan Penny starts to lose hope when held captive at the Devil's Bayou, this lullaby-like pop song implores her to keep her hopes alive. Luckily, Bernard and Bianca are on the way. 

Disney Detail: During the musical number 'Someone's Waiting For You,' the animators use stock footage of Bambi and his mother grazing in the forest. As if it wasn't tear-jerking enough already! 

Why it's a Classic: It's just so charming. Like The Aristocats and One Hundred and One Dalmatians before it, the focus on animals secretly working together behind the scenes is a delightful concept. The Rescuers perfects the characterisation (Bernard and Bianca are couple goals), world details, and pacing, to provide a near-perfect mouse-fuelled adventure. 

Once Upon A Disney #22: The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

Two months later... 

Oops. Seems that life – or the little there is of it at the moment – managed to temporarily get in the way of this challenge. I suppose the novelty of being able to go to the pub and do masked shopping was too tough to resist. Never fear though, because I'll get through these films by hook or by crook, even if it takes another FIVE pandemics. (Disclaimer: I hope there aren't five more pandemics.) 

Not long until we get to a new decade, but for now, let's see how much I can remember of... 

The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977)

Queuing up for that half-price restaurant food

That's right, folks – we're back to anthology territory. Only just fully recovered from the PTSD of The Three Caballeros, Fun and Fancy Free, et al, I did not have high hopes for this one. Although I, like most people, am familiar with Disney's versions of A.A. Milne's classic stuffed characters, I'd never seen this film before. Perhaps I'd written it off for being too childish or quaint. However, it was really quite pleasant. In a gentle, have-a-cup-of-tea-and-a-biscuit kind of way. 

Like many of its predecessors, Winnie The Pooh begins in live-action, with the book being selected from a shelf (in a very creepy looking nursery) and opened, for the story to begin. The narrator's voice pops in and out between each tale, making the whole film feel a bit like someone reading you a bedtime story. The book conceit works better in this film than in previous Disney classics, as cute illustrations of the characters wander around the pages between scenes and interact with the narrator, which was a nice touch. 

When you're walking down The Strand and you get grit in your face

The stories themselves are based on A.A. Milne's tales, and are actually re-used from previous Disney shorts already made in the '60s. They mainly revolve around Pooh eating way too much honey, some bad weather, and all of the animals being very annoying neighbours to each other. For example, when Pooh runs out of honey, he invites himself over to Rabbit's house, eats all of his, and proceeds to get so fat that he's stuck in his friend's house for days. Not a good guest. 

Me emerging from quarantine after a baking addiction

If you thought that was bad though, get this. In the 'Blustery Day' story, Owl's house is blown down in the wind. Eeyore decides to find him a new one and eventually does. But he doesn't realise it's Piglet's house. Awkward. Unbelievably, once the other animals tell him that it's Piglet's home, Owl still thinks he has a right to live there anyway, and Piglet has to give it up! I was FUMING. My anger almost made me forget that Christopher Robin's voice turns from American to English halfway through. Sigh. 

Woodland house-market aside, Winnie the Pooh has plenty of songs, cheeky humour, and charming animation to tick along for an hour and a half. There's even a trippy nightmare sequence a la Dumbo, complete with menacing multi-coloured Heffalumps. It might not be life-changing, but you can see how these characters have found a way into children's hearts (apart from Tigger, who's just plain annoying). 

I'm scared

Best Song: Most of the songs in this film are pretty short / unmemorable, but 'Little Black Rain Cloud' did stick with me for its lilting fairground feel. You can tell it was written by the Sherman Brothers, as it has a 'Let's Go Fly A Kite' vibe.

Disney Detail: Nothing deliberate, but the gopher character did put me in mind of the legendary beaver in Lady and the Tramp. Also, that LSD nightmare that Pooh has is signature Disney. 

Why it's a Classic: It already deals with classic children's characters, so it's hard for it to be otherwise. However, you have got to hand it to Disney for building on the books and creating versions of these characters that have stuck with generations. When people think of Winnie the Pooh, the chances are they will imagine a very yellow bear with a husky American accent. 

Once Upon A Disney #21: Robin Hood

We had a couple of weeks away from merry old England, but now we're back to tradition – well, sort of – with the incomparable...

Robin Hood (1973)

Lockdown really has brought all the wildlife out

Not gonna lie, this is one of my all-time favourites – and definitely my top version of the classic legend. As a kid, I never questioned the logic of Disney's Robin Hood at all, but let's step back for a second and imagine the pitch:

'Yes, we're going to make our own version of the English folk tale Robin Hood. But animated. And a musical, told through American country music. Sung by a rooster, voiced by folk singer Roger Miller. Oh yes, did we mention, all the characters will be animals, wearing clothes? And some will have strong Southern drawls, while others will speak the Queen's English?'

The writers when they came up with the concept for this film

It's so weird, but the film gets away with it by acknowledging this fact from the outset. The opening credits list out the actors, the roles they are playing, plus what animal they are. This is to get you immersed in the world they have created while giving a cheeky nod to the irreverence we are about to watch. By the time Alan-A-Dale (the Roger Miller rooster) introduces himself and the story, we're perfectly prepared for Robin to be a talking fox. Because why not?

The characterisation of the anthropomorphic animals is genius and really adds to the charm of the film. While Robin is a bushy-tailed fox, I know more that one person who fell for his charismatic personality and had a cartoon-crush on him at one point. Little John may look (and sound) exactly like Baloo from The Jungle Book, but his swaggering wingman persona is endearing.

I mean, swoon

The choice for Prince John to be a lion, while he snivels cowardly in his carriage, is inspired, while his sneaky henchman Sir Hiss, is, of course, a snake. Lady Kluck, a Scottish chicken, is perfect as the robust lady-in-waiting to Maid Marian's sparkly-eyed fox. The Sheriff of Nottingham is the literal wolf at the door, while the Prince's guards are vultures, picking off innocent citizens. It must have been fun to assign the roles.

When you spot someone holding hands with somebody who isn't from the same household

Using animals rather than humans also serves to heighten the comedy, which this film has in abundance. The first act, where Robin and Little John dress in drag as fortune tellers to try and dupe Prince John out of his jewels, is like something from a Monty Python film. When an elaborate fight breaks out at the archery tournament, Lady Kluck pelts down the field while American football music plays, embracing out-and-out parody. In the style of Edgar from The Aristocats, the villain in Robin Hood is more of a comic figure than a real menace, as he's too much of a mummy's boy to be truly feared.

Didn't get the 'don't touch your face' memo

Fuelled by a rollicking score, including both country bangers and an incongruous (yet quite pretty) pop ballad, Robin Hood cements its own unique world, making it one of the most memorable Disney films. Throw in some cute animals (those poor little bunnies are very huggable), and genuine laughs, and the film is an oft-overlooked jewel in Disney's crown. It's fast-paced – even if the ending is a little rushed – and distinctly '70s, in the best way.

Best Song: The whole soundtrack to Robin Hood is a treat, but my current favourite is probably 'The Phony King of England,' which isn't a Roger Miller song, but it's a real ear-worm (Sir Hiss can attest to that).

Disney Detail: There aren't any notable easter eggs in this one, but that dance footage from Aristocats does rear its head again, and many of the voice actors (like Phil Harris) are Disney staples by this point.

Why it's a Classic: It's one of the most charming and funny Disney films from the first half of the canon. The cheeky appropriation of the tried-and-tested story, blending the traditional English folk tale with an American folk sensibility, is a method used again 20+ years later for Hercules (Greek vs. Gospel) and it really does work. The director of Zootropolis also said that the success of the anthropomorphic community created in the film was a big inspiration.

Once Upon A Disney #20: The Aristocats

We've made it to two milestones this week – It's the twentieth film in the Disney animated canon, AND we've hit a new decade. If you thought Baggy needed to get with the beat in The Jungle Book, prepare for an even jazzier adventure in...

The Aristocats (1970) 

Despite being more of a dog than a cat person, The Aristocats has always been a firm favourite of mine. From the charming painterly style to the undeniably cute kittens, eclectic soundtrack – and comical geese – it's a story I return to time and time again. 

Having recently watched One Hundred and One Dalmatians as a part of this challenge, you can't ignore how many elements act as a blueprint for The Aristocats. It uses the same concept of the pets having their own society and working together to overthrow evil humans (even though Edgar's plans are less deadly than Cruella's). It borrows a similar deliberately sketchy style to make the cityscapes – London, and in this case, Paris – look their best. It focusses on beloved pets, including pups / kittens, finding their way home on a treacherous journey. 

A metaphorical representation of trying to fit into last year's clothes after putting on those lockdown pounds

However, there are some significant ways that I think The Aristocats outdoes its poochy predecessor. 

Firstly, despite a modest amount of songs, this film is a proper musical. French cabaret singer Maurice Chevalier performs the buoyant opening title song, which sets the tone of Gay Paris at a pleasant trotting pace. Like in Lady and the Tramp, animals can sing in this world – albeit when out of human earshot. The 'Scales and Arpeggios' number showcases Eva Gabor's dulcet tones as Duchess, alongside the endearingly authentic child voice of sassy kitten Marie. 

We stan a queen

Thomas O'Malley's number is classic Phil Harris, oozing swaggering charm and chill. And, of course, 'Everybody Wants To Be A Cat' has been passed down as a Disney classic through the years, with a surprisingly sophisticated structure (and lyrics that are probably inappropriate for kids in many ways). 

Even the instrumental score of The Aristocats carries its light, irreverent tone. While Edgar the butler puts his ill-thought cat-napping plans in place, he monologues aloud while accompanied by hammy spy music. When he leaves his hat and umbrella at the scene of the crime (not the cleverest of villains), the score accompanies a pantomime-style setpiece where the two redneck hounds try to outsmart him. Perhaps most glorious of all, however, is the comical march of the geese, when Duchess, kittens, and O' Malley are forced to waddle behind their new English acquaintances, Abigail and Amelia. 

It's a dog-eat-butler's pants world

The plot of The Aristocats is inarguably strange, and perhaps not the strongest in the Disney canon, but it has a new-found formula that Disney seems to capture in this age – appealing to kids and adults, and making both laugh. While kids are happily carried along with the slapstick humour and music, adults can appreciate the social commentary of the relationships between the upper-class cats and the alley beatniks. The references to catnip and the drunken uncle goose (literally marinated in wine) will fly over kids' heads but land for grown-ups. 

The one thing you don't miss about going to the pub 

Perhaps most ingenious of all is the writing and performances of the child parts. Parents are bound to see their own kids reflected in Marie's business and naive romanticism, Berlioz' mischievousness, and Toulouse's desire to be a tough, alley cat. Casting natural kid voices makes the kittens even more adorable, and lets them carry the heart of the story with ease. 

I'll definitely be revisiting The Aristocats again soon, particularly when I'm missing the charm of Paris and need a uniquely '70s pick-me-up. 

Terrifying

Best Song: 'Thomas O' Malley Cat' – what can I say, those bouncy Phil Harris tunes just get my foot tapping.

Disney Detail: The Aristocats is one of the many Disney films of this era to have animation recycled for later films. When Duchess and Thomas are dancing to 'Everybody Wants to Be A Cat,' elements of the sequence are used again in Robin Hood.

Why it's a Classic: If the timeless popularity of 'Everybody Wants to Be A Cat' and Marie weren't enough, The Aristocats is the crème de la crème of Disney pet-based films. It sounds like I'm damning with faint praise, but there are quite a lot of movies in that category.

P.S. You can actually make Crème de la Crème à la Edgar from this recipe. Don't tell me you didn't think it looked good.

Once Upon A Disney #19: The Jungle Book

Can you believe that we've already got to the last Walt Disney animated film of the '60s? Even in this timeless void of lockdown, this is a feat worth celebrating. So ready your dancing feet as we go swinging into the leafy undergrowth with...

The Jungle Book (1967)

When you're on mute in a Zoom call and completely switch off

The first film released after Walt Disney's untimely death, The Jungle Book is widely regarded as one of the best the studio has turned out. I hadn't seen it in years but sat down with some degree of comfort knowing that it had to be better than The Sword in the Stone. From the classic opening of the storybook, panning out to a sumptuously painted jungle with a mysterious, snake-charmer like score, you can feel you're about to embark on a special adventure.

One of the main things I noticed that set The Jungle Book apart from its predecessor is the far superior pace of the storytelling. Perhaps this is due to having much more concrete source material in Rudyard Kipling's classic novel. After the charming panther, Bagheera sets the scene as narrator, telling us of Mowgli's early life with the wolves and how he has to be returned to his own kind, we're ready to get on with the journey.

Listening out for anyone still clapping for the NHS

In quick succession, Mowgli is nearly caught and eaten by Kaa the snake, tries to join a herd of disorganised elephants, dances with a fun-loving bear, and gets hoodwinked by a gang of jazz-loving monkeys. While all of these scenes give the film a bopping beat, you do have to stop and think – Mowgli is a complete liability.

This signifies Mowgli's general self-awareness

Firstly, he's infuriatingly naive and impressionable. Like the Indian version of Pinocchio, he simply follows and believes everyone he meets. Having known the sensible Bagheera all of his life, he constantly goes against his wishes to put himself in potential danger at every opportunity. Secondly, he's extremely precocious, constantly laughing at other animals' misfortunes and convinced that he could easily fight off the most deadly (and poshest) predator in the jungle, the tiger Shere Khan. The fact that he proves himself right is beside the point. LISTEN TO YOUR ELDERS, MOWGLI.

When you haven't cut your nails in quarantine yet

Thirdly, he's the most fickle character ever. Having spent the entire film refusing to leave the jungle for any reason whatsoever, he claps eyes on one village girl a very on-the-nose, bordering on misogynistic song, thinks she looks pretty cute and just follows her to the man village after all. But boys will be boys, right?

While Mowgli is annoying in many ways, he does have an innocence that makes him somewhat endearing, and the challenges he presents to the ensemble cast is what creates the real magic. The relationship between Baloo and Bagheera is very well measured, with Bagheera's disdain thawing as the pair have to work together to take Mowgli to safety.

I want this pool float

Baloo adds much-needed levity to the story, oozing a sense of cool ease as he swaggers around the jungle singing 'Bare Necessities.' Phil Harris' natural musicality and comic timing go on to win us over in the next two films on our list, which we'll explore later. His whole jam is completely copied again in Disney's '90s classic The Lion King, with Timon and Pumbaa's 'Hakuna Matata.' After some hard-eye rolling from Bagheera, you see his true colours when he weeps and offers and heartfelt, very generous eulogy to the bear when he thinks he's died protecting Mowgli. Baloo's reaction when he wakes up and wants to here more is comedy gold.

With a return to more polished, vibrant animation, an iconic soundtrack to get your toes-tapping, and a cast of cute, scary, and downright jazzy critters, it's no wonder The Jungle Book is a fan-favourite. It also cleverly speaks to its generation, with one foot in the familiar story and the other in the swinging '60s. Who can forget that vulture that sounds exactly like John Lennon? Classic.

Literally every day of lockdown

Best Song: 'The Bare Necessities,' for being one of the catchiest tunes known to man (or bear). Interestingly, I've just found out that this is the only song in the film that wasn't written by the Sherman Brothers, but by the original, overthrown composer, Terry Gilkyson. Really, it has to win because I'm so sick of 'I Wan'na Be Like You' being covered by every swing band alive that is gets immediately disqualified from the competition. So there.

Disney Detail: Bambi's mum appears randomly again! Seriously, that doe gets around. Also, Kaa the snake is unmistakably the same voice as Winnie-the-Pooh which is creepy AF.

Why it's a Classic: It was THE Disney film of our parents' generation. With a male protagonist, it didn't alienate boys by being princessy. It combines adventure and humour with a legit soundtrack and gorgeously colourful animation, which never goes gaudy. It is telling that The Lion King, which is probably the most iconic Disney film among millennials, copies a lot of the same traits The Jungle Book. It's a winning formula.

Once Upon A Disney #18: The Sword in the Stone

It seems that in this period, Disney was alternating between antiquated fairytales and stories about dogs. In keeping with that rhythm, we're about to gallop back into medieval England with...

The Sword in the Stone (1963)

Here we go again. The ornately decorated storybook opens to a promisingly rich overture. We're greeted with medieval illustrations which are eerily similar to Sleeping Beauty's prologue (but we'll ignore that for now) while a gentleman sets the scene through a very warbly song. Jolly old England can't decide who is heir to the throne, but a magical sword in a stone will set things straight. We wait with bated breath to hear all about the sword. 

You can almost hear the choir

No luck, I'm afraid. This film has almost nothing to do with the sword in the stone. It feels like the filmmakers wanted to sell the movie by grounding it in the Arthurian setting but had written something else entirely. What we end up with is Arthur's 'alternative' origin story, consisting of Merlin turning him into lots of animals. 

Arthur – who is this version is known as Wart for most of the film – is a skinny 12-year-old, with an inexplicable and highly inconsistent American accent, training to be a squire. While out gallivanting with his older brother, he ends up falling into a mysterious cottage, belonging to – you guessed it – Merlin. The cantankerous old wizard did mention something about expecting someone just like Wart to land on his doorstep, so apparently, he's special. 

'And that's the tea' 💁

After proving his exceptionally efficient packing skills to the tune of 'Higitus Figitus' – reminiscent of the fairy cottage scenes in Sleeping Beauty –  the eccentric wizard decides he will accompany Wart home to his castle to be his tutor. However, his lessons seem to suggest he has no idea what he's doing. 

From here on in, the film really starts to suffer from pacing issues. While there are some charming highlights (like Merlin and Wart's genuinely funny race over the hills while a puffed out wolf tries to keep up) the plot is more like a series of shorts rather than a captivating whole. A series of 'lessons' sees Merlin turning Wart into different animals, to teach him vague life skills, like what gravity is, and how he needs to avoid women. 

When I turn around too fast and my ponytail whips someone in the face

First, he's transformed into a fish – and he narrowly escapes getting eaten by a terrifying pike by being saved by Merlin's owl, Archimedes. Insert song. Secondly, he turns into a squirrel – and he narrowly escapes being pinned down by a lady squirrel. Insert another song. Thirdly, it's a sparrow – and he's nearly eaten by a hawk. Oh yes, and there's another son-you get the picture. 

That is a badass motherf**er

Major side note, but worth pointing out because it adds to the general strangeness of the film – Wart's voice changes dramatically throughout. At first, I thought the actor's voice might have broken (ala Rupert Grint in Chamber of Secrets) halfway through making the film. However, my research now indicates that three different actors voiced the protagonist. While the first actor did hit puberty, he was then replaced by two younger actors. Reader, this was to no avail. The changes in register within the same scene are hilariously jarring. 

This bit of animation is used three times in one scene – which says it all, really

Anyway, going back to the scrappy plot. If you thought that was enough animal transforming for one film, you're in for a surprise. The story's climax introduces us to Madam Mim, another sorcerer to rival Merlin, who it stark-raving bonkers. With Wart – as a sparrow – in her clutches, good old Archimedes sends for his buddy to help. Merlin and Mim then battle it out in a wizard duel, which – you guessed it – means transforming into various animals to try and overpower the other. Apart from being one of the most visually interesting parts of the film, it's still unclear what the point is. 

Your words, not mine, love

After all that, Wart decides that he still wants to train to be a aquire, and Merlin goes off in a huff, thinking that he should be spending his time on more academic pursuits. (But again... why?) At this point, no-one quite knows how the story will wrap up – surely no more animal transformations. Well, judge this how you will...

It turns out, Wart's brother has to take part in a jousting tournament in London and his squire conveniently gets the mumps. Wart has to take over, but oh no – he's forgotten to bring his sword. The inn they are staying at is shut, so he just casually pulls the sword – yes, THE sword – out of the stone. The End. None of the things Merlin taught him paid off at all. It's an 80-minute diversion anyway I guess! 

There's the money shot 

Best Song: Considering the Sherman Brothers (of Mary Poppins and Jungle Book fame) produced the music, the songs in this film are pretty weak – although it could be because neither Merlin nor Arthur can sing. 'Higitus Figitus' is probably the highlight, due to its energetic pace and the impressive animated scene of the suitcase being packed to accompany it.

Disney Detail: As well as some of the animation being used twice within this film, it also uses recycled animation from past Disney classics. The opening credit backgrounds borrow from Sleeping Beauty, and the deer Wart's brother tries to strike with his arrow near the beginning is copied from Bambi's mother. There are other examples throughout – but a lot of Disney films from the '60s - '80s borrowed sequences from each other, which we'll see in weeks to come.

Why it's a Classic: Perhaps less beloved than some of Disney's other classics, The Sword in the Stone does have some charming moments, with signature Disney style, humour, and a jolly old score. It could use a good bit of editing though.

Once Upon A Disney #17: One Hundred and One Dalmatians

The '50s went by in a flash, didn't they? Or maybe it was compared to Disney's painful offerings of the previous decade. In any case, the swinging '60s have lots of animated treats in store. After taking a one week break from dog-based tales with the traditional, dreamy Sleeping Beauty, it's time to get our tails wagging again as we bound to London for...

One Hundred And One Dalmatians (1961)

The opposite of the balletic fairytale, Disney makes a confident departure to the modern age for their next feature. The opening credits set the tone – rather than a storybook opened to an angelic choir, we are greeted with whimsical spots and doodles, set against an upbeat jazzy score. Like with Lady and the Tramp, concept art shows us the world and characters we are about to meet, purposely drawing us to the sketchy artistry of this doggy adventure.

Me trying to stay awake during a football match on TV

However, unlike Disney's last canine story, where the humans are only seen from the waist-down with emphasis on the dog's suppliant world, One Hundred And One Dalmatians is much more balanced between man and his dog. As well as equal framing for both humans and beasts, dogs control the narrative from the start. Pongo the dalmatian's charming voice-over sets the scene, where he lives with his 'pet' Roger, a musician, in an artistic London flat. His mission – to break Roger away from his bachelor's life by finding him a mate. Indeed, every dog seems to be an equal partner to their 'pet' human, with a  parade of pooches who look exactly like their owners gracing the London streets.

Is this an acceptable lockdown activity, though? 

This fuels Roger and Anita's 'meet-cute,' where Pongo literally runs rings around them to pull the eligible pair together. Of course, in the process he falls in love with Anita's dalmatian, Perdita – cue some months later, and all four are married (yes, even the dogs) and are living happily under one roof. It all feels very rom-com, and I'm here for it.

Enter one of the best Disney villains of all time – Cruella De Vil. Her reputation literally proceeds her as she casts a menacing silhouette at Roger and Anita's door. From her sweeping, smoke-filled entrance, her larger-than-life personality steals every scene she's in. The line-work of the animation works perfectly to bring to life this hard-edged fashionista.

I mean, she seems nice

With an obviously evil name, maniacal cackle, and overtly nasty digs at Roger, you have got to wonder why Anita was ever friends with her in the first place. But hey, Cruella's dry comments are pretty funny, and you can't say she isn't a good antagonist. Probably one of the most purely horrible of all in fact, when you consider that her evil plans are literally just inspired by getting a new coat. And let's not get started on her driving skills.

Something to admire in One Hundred And One Dalmatians is the contrast between cruelty and love, which inspires some surprisingly emotional moments. Yes, Cruella is horrendous, but she inspires a really sweet moment between Anita and Roger, where Roger writes her eponymous theme tune and serenades his wife with it between fits of giggles. While Perdita is terrified for the fate of her puppies if Cruella gets her hands on them, Pongo is comforting, supportive, and full of love and concern when the litter arrives. Basically, he's a damn gent.

He's literally bringing a puppy back to life MY HEART!!

Despite their best efforts though, Cruella's hapless henchman Jasper and Horace manage to pinch the puppies, and Pongo and Perdita soon have to take the matters into their own paws. Introducing the iconic 'twilight bark.' That's right, I bet you didn't know that every dog across the country is part of a barking chain, so they can help a brother out. Well, it's true. 

The second half of the film is basically an epic rescue mission, powered by a huge network of animals that provide Pongo and Perdita with information, shelter, and food to get their puppies – and the 84 others who are held captive at Hell Hall (yes, it's literally called that) – home to safety.

Someone get this pup a gilet at least

Getting all of the puppies out of the mansion in one piece is one thing, but their journey is filled with peril at every corner. Nearly dying from cold after trudging through the snow, they then almost get caught by Cruella's prowling car, which actually has your heart in your throat. I've never been happier to see someone drive off a cliff in my life.

All in all, One Hundred And One Dalmatians is a refreshing departure from Disney's traditional fairytales and effectively launches the studio into the '60s. While it plays with a more expressive art style and modern humour, it doesn't lose any heart. You root for the protagonists all the way – of course it helps that most of them are adorable puppies.

Are these the most well-behaved dogs in the world? Probably. 

Best Song: 'Cruella De Vil,' which has become a classic in the Disney songbook, for its catchy tune and perfect villainous lyrics.

Disney Detail: There are two notable Disney Easter Eggs in this movie which I particularly enjoyed:

1. The TV show that Jasper, Horace, and the puppies are watching when Tibbs finds them is the 1929 Walt Disney Silly Symphonies cartoon Springtime
2. Most of the dogs from Lady and the Tramp make an appearance during the 'twilight bark' sequence – Jock, Peg, Lady, and Tramp can all be spotted in and around London (we have no idea how they got there though, or how they lived that long!)  

Why it's a Classic: Apart from spawning a successful live-action film (who can forget Glenn Close's maniacal Cruella?) and a popular animated series, One Hundred And One Dalmatians' unique art style makes it a go-to Disney film for merch, with the spotty dogs ironically becoming a fashion must-have.