The Little Mermaid Returns

To my knowledge, Walt Disney Studios did not create its first animated sequel—not counting multiple Mickey Mouse cartoons and the like—until 1990. From Snow White in 1937 on, every animated feature the company produced featured original characters in an original milieu. So what prompted The Rescuers Down Under in 1990? Fundamentally, it was The Little Mermaid in 1989 (see Bob Thomas, The Art of Disney Animation [New York: Hyperion, 1991] p. 121). The short version of the long story goes that after Walt’s death in 1966 and the retirement of the majority of the old guard of Disney animators and artists including most of the legendary Nine Old Men, Disney’s animated films fell into disrepair. Visual quality diminished, storylines became more sophomoric, company attention was focused elsewhere such as live-action and theme parks, and animators increased in dissatisfaction, prompting several like Tim Burton to jump ship. (This by the way is the general history, although many of my own favorite Disney cartoons, from The Aristocats to The Great Mouse Detective, come from this period.)

The highest-profile departure was animator Don Bluth in 1979, high profile because he had been hailed as Walt's successor and he took a coterie of disaffected animators along with him to start a new studio. This new effort took a while to get off the ground but eventually resulted in fantastic films like An American Tail (1986) that showed Disney up artistically and financially. Meanwhile back at the ranch, Disney fought off a hostile takeover and installed new management in the form of Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg, and the latter, sensing the parade was passing Disney animation by, saw to overhauling the company’s animated efforts (ironically exactly what people like Bluth had been arguing for a decade earlier). They poured increased resources and energy into Who Framed Roger Rabbit? in 1988 and, of course, another fairy tale adaptation—the first since Sleeping Beauty in 1959—which became The Little Mermaid (assuming you can count H. C. Andersen's work as fairytales, something I plan to address soon in a separate post). This return to the studio’s fairytale roots was to symbolize its return to greatness, so another even more ambitious project, Beauty and the Beast, which had been in the works for decades, was revived as well.

What to do to keep costs down in between those two high-profile, high-cost films? A low-key, inexpensive little number based on a property that Disney already had the rights to. The result was The Rescuers Down Under; the characters (seen below) had already been developed in the 1977 The Rescuers, the plotline was essentially the same, transferred to a new environment, the special effects were minimal (although a few shots, such as the opening track in to Ayer’s Rock, the flight of the eagle, and the villain's huge vehicle, incorporated computers), and the character animation—from what I understand—was relatively simple (in that it involved less meticulous draftsmanship on little mice than is required on humans), although production values were higher than the 1977 film’s. 

The moral of this long introduction is: a sequel was pursued because it allowed Disney to A) minimize development costs and animation costs while B) maximizing revenue by attracting the fan base of the original film.

It probably wouldn’t have gone much beyond this film and Fantasia 2000 (and Walt had always envisioned Fantasia as having a perpetually changing program) if it weren’t for the advent of video. VHS and later DVD gave the company the ideal outlet to exploit its existing products. They began, in the 80s, by issuing their theatrical films on VHS in limited-time releases, thus increasing demand and allowing, years later, for yet another release. Then they began to also revisit old titles by creating sequels.

My own knowledge of the history at this point becomes less clear—it’s not something I’ve read as much about as Disney’s theatrical films, and I haven’t tried to watch these films as much either. So if we can trust “Mike” in his somewhat jaded online article “Attack of the Disney Sequels” we learn that The Return of Jafar was the first such straight-to-video sequel, in 1994.

The Return of Jafar has to be seen in the context of that year. In 1991 Beauty and the Beast capped off a definitive comeback for the company, becoming the first animated film ever nominated for a Best Picture Oscar. Aladdin in 1992 followed suit in its critical and commercial success, and The Lion King in 1994 became one of the highest-grossing films of all time. Furthermore, Aladdin was an action film of sorts that appealed to boys as well as girls (it wasn’t just a “princess” movie), and its villain had been dispatched but not completely terminated, unlike other recent villains like Ursula and Gaston. Not only did that latter point allow for Jafar to return, but the nature of Aladdin’s perpetual scrapes allowed for the possibility of episodic adventures, and indeed a half-hour television series was in the works. So a straight-to-video hour-long film was a great way to capitalize on the original film’s strengths while setting the stage for the series (a la The Clone Wars right now, as I wrote last week).

I don’t have revenue information, but The Return of Jafar evidently did well enough to let the genie out of the bottle, so it speak (sorry—I couldn’t resist). (There's some more information in this rather enthusiastic review.) A trilogy was completed by incorporating another Arabian tale in Aladdin and the King of Thieves in 1996, and soon Disney was revisiting much more of its back catalog, resurrecting characters in Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas (1997), Pocahontas II: Journey to a New World (1998), The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride (1998), The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea (2000), Lady and the Tramp II: Scamp’s Adventure (2001), Peter Pan II: Return to Neverland (2002; seen below), Tarzan and Jane (2002), Cinderella II: Dreams Come True (2002), The Hunchback of Notre Dame II (2002), 101 Dalmatians II: Patch’s London Adventure (2003), The Jungle Book 2 (2003), Atlantis: Milo’s Return (2003), Stitch! The Movie (2003) (and a pretty good television series of its own), The Lion King 1 ½ (2004), Mulan II (2005), Tarzan II (2005), Lilo and Stitch 2: Stitch Has a Glitch (2005), The Emperor’s New Groove 2: Kronk’s New Groove (2005) (also introducing a television series), Bambi II (2006), The Fox and the Hound 2 (2006), and Cinderella III: A Twist in Time (2007).

It is perfectly probable that I’ve missed some in there, but even so that’s a pretty hefty list.

Doing a sequel to The Rescuers, based on a modern book series by Margery Sharp, is one thing, but doing one to a fairytale like Cinderella is something different all together. Generally in fairytales “happily ever after” means there’s nothing else to tell. One strategy to get beyond that narrative obstacle is to introduce new character flaws in the protagonist (a la Cinderella II); perhaps easier and, indeed, more common is to have the first film’s characters grow up and have their children repeat, more or less, a theme on the original film. Thus we have Patch taking a chief role over the other one hundred Dalmatians, the little pup Scamp repeating the trampy ways of his father, and Bambi’s fawn teaching him about fatherhood the same way he learned—or didn’t, really—from his own father. The Lion King was unabashedly based on Hamlet, so for a sequel the producers turned again to their best writer, this time using Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet (sorry, Two Noble Kinsmen, maybe next time). Simba and Nala have repeated the circle of life, and this time their daughter decides to enter a forbidden love with a member of a rival pride. But just as The Lion King did not end with a bloodbath and some feline Fortinbras strutting in to rule the savannah, so with Simba’s Pride Kiara and Kovu manage to avoid a double suicide and everyone learns about forgiveness and tolerance. Finally, in The Little Mermaid II the plot of the original film is simply reversed: where Ariel had longed to grow up and escape the sea to live on land, her daughter Melody longs to escape the palace and live as a mermaid. Like her mother, Melody makes a bargain with a (new) sea witch (seen below) to secretly obtain her wish, and she must perform a difficult task to remain that way. As in the original film, there’s a search, a showdown, and parental reconciliation. At this point there was apparently no way to continue the series without moving on to a third generation.

That is, of course, unless you think to do a prequel. Prequels and, as some call them, interquels are no new territory either (especially since George Lucas made them mainstream with his second Star Wars trilogy). Disney thus far has, as far as I can tell, specialized in interquels, seeking out those ellipses in time in the original film, spaces when all the film’s characters are intact, their dramatic arc is not yet resolved, but there’s enough wiggle room to create a whole new structurally independent production. So for example we have The Fox and the Hound 2, which takes places in the undefined space as the pup and kit grow up, and  Tarzan II, which depicts Tarzan as a boy, the period in between the original Tarzan’s prologue and the body of its action. Beauty and the Beast presented a challenge: a prequel wouldn’t really work because the characters had not yet met, but a sequel wouldn’t either because after the film ends there is no Beast, no curse, and no singing silverware. The solution was an interquel, prompted by the passing of an entire winter more or less in one song in the original film. That opened the way for not just any interquel but a Christmas-themed one that could hopefully become an annual favorite. 

The most interesting interquels of all are The Lion King 1 ½ and Cinderella 3. The former film is more or less an interquel, like Tarzan II focusing on Simba’s maturation in the wilderness with Timon and Pumbaa, although it overlaps and literally repeats action from the original film. What this really is then is the Disney folks taking Tom Stoppard’s play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead out for a spin: the events of the original The Lion King are rehashed from the perspective of its two most, um, misunderstood characters, often very directly in a Mystery Science Theater 3000 (or, one could argue, postmodern The Emperor's New Groove) kind of way. As for Cinderella 3, technically it qualifies as a traditional sequel, but I mention it here because it too returns to events of the original film, this time distorting and manipulating them as the wicked Stepmother gets another go at getting things her way. Intriguing.

So now all of this brings us to Tuesday's release of The Little Mermaid III: Ariel’s Beginning. The film is a good and true prequel, something young Anakin Skywalker could appreciate. There’s no Prince Eric, no longing to become human, just Ariel, Sebastian, and Flounder in their “first” undersea adventure. It’s a little disappointing that Ariel appears not a day younger than in the first film when Glen Keane animated her (twenty years ago!), but that can be forgiven. The new film is directed by Peggy Holmes and co-written by Robert Reece and Evan Spiliotopoulos. Jodi Benson and Samuel E. Wright are still performing the voices of Ariel and Sebastian, respectively, but now King Triton is performed by veteran voice actor Jim Cummings and Flounder by the young Parker Goris. Ariel’s mother is apparently present, if just to get snatched by human fishermen (as I suspect), and Queen Athena is performed by Lorelei Hill Butters. To add star quality, Sally Field plays the new villain Marina (reminding me of the fact that her Gidget was a surf bum who might as well have been a mermaid). I don’t have information on who did the actual animation.

The plot revolves around the ban on music in the undersea kingdom. All music is forbidden, although there is a lively underground speakeasy (or singeasy) scene, and you can bet that it will be Ariel’s headstrong ways that openly challenge the restriction and make music public again. The plot is therefore familiar but wholly autonomous from The Little Mermaid, and the most interesting interaction in a Phantom Menace type of way (introducing the characters, increasing backstory, etc.) appears to be the meeting of Ariel and Flounder. I’m not sure specifically where all the villainy and treachery comes in, but I’m fairly confident there will be some violence in the climax.

Here is the trailer, which is also available, with a great deal of other material, on the film’s official website. (There are also more videos on youtube.)

Now, when Disney renegotiated its relationship with Pixar a couple years ago and Ed Catmull came onboard down in Burbank, I remember reading that one of the first things he did was pull the plug on a number of straight-to-video sequels. They had passed the point of optimal utility, diminishing returns were setting in, and what they were now doing was degrading the Disney product by associating it with inferior work. At Pixar Catmull and John Lasseter and friends had created arguably the most successful animation studio in history by very carefully guarding their product (as well as attending to story, visual quality, and marketing). Part of the acquisition deal was that Catmull would become president of Disney Animation as well as of Pixar Animation, precisely to ensure that Disney would not run amok with licentious licensing and sequelmongering via innumerable 2-D spin-offs of Pixar properties (Toy Story ½: The Manufacturing Plant). Pulling the reigns in on Disney’s own properties was also a sage move. Sequels and series have slowed down in recent years (notice the glut between 2002 and 2004 in the list I gave above), and Disney’s products are stronger for it. What it means for any straight-to-video films that do get released nowadays is that they have passed through a more robust vetting procedure, resulting, hopefully, in stronger music, animation, and storylines; in this regard I hope that Ariel’s Beginning will not disappoint. I happen to live with the world’s foremost Little Mermaid enthusiast, so I will let you know if the experts think it passes muster.

Since the Pixar deal I believe Disney feature films will also be seeing a quality resurgence—Catmull is not one to merely chase 3-D CGI films simply because they’re CGI—so, even if it is meant to bolster up enthusiasm for Disneyland’s New Orleans Square a la The Pirates of the Caribbean, I’m greatly looking forward to next year’s The Princess and the Frog (Wikipedia page here), which is Disney’s first 2-D cel-animated film since Home on the Range in 2004, its first fairytale adaptation since Beauty and the Beast, its first film with African-American characters, its first to use songs by Randy Newman a la Pixar, and, most importantly, its newest co-directorial effort by Ron Clements and John Musker, the directors who brought us both Aladdin and, appropriately, The Little Mermaid. 

Whether we’ll be seeing The Princess and the Frog III: The Tadpole Adventure in 2017 is another story.