Mickey Mouse at 80 - Part 1

With this entry we reach—I think—the culmination of my Anniversary Fridays for 2008, even I’m perfectly aware today’s Saturday. (I had a short film in a little film festival last night in the LDS meetinghouse on the Upper East Side, and hence did not find time to write.) There are a few anniversaries I’m just letting pass by—Target Entertainment Group is ten, as are the Tweenies and, most notably, Harry Potter (about whom I’m afraid I just have too little to say to be useful)—but I tried to save the best for last. Mickey Mouse—often billed as the most recognized personality on the planet—was after all the one to give me the inspiration for the series in the first place.

Mickey Mouse made his debut on May 15, 1928 in the animated short Plane Crazy, although he jumped to stardom on November 18 with his third film, Steamboat Willie. (I've also heard that the first two films were not released until after Willie, something I'll have to verify.) The reason this was so much bigger a phenomenon was that it was Disney’s first cartoon with a synchronized soundtrack. (It’s often billed as the first cartoon with a synchronized soundtrack, which is not true any more than the claim that Snow White was the first animated feature film, although it was obviously on the cusp.) After years of hard knocks in Kansas City and L.A., Walt Disney finally got his first lucky break with the timing of Steamboat Willie just a year after The Jazz Singer; his luck wouldn’t always hold up but recurred every once in a while with his forays into color films, feature films, live action, theme parks, and television. “Give me lucky generals,” Napoleon said.

So this is Plane Crazy, although a soundtrack has been added. Animation humor is often extremely topical, and the direct inspiration here was Charles Lindbergh.



Now there are lots of creation stories and creation myths about Mickey Mouse, and while my purpose with this post is to pay tribute, not give a history, I should say that I don’t ascribe to the idea that Walt used to have a little rodent visitor who would scamper around his drawing board in Kansas City that later inspired him to single-handedly create Mickey. No, the reality’s probably a bit more mundane, but I don’t think it reduces the Mickey Mouse ethos at all to say that he came from the pen of Disney’s partner Ub Iwerks, or that he was largely a knock off of the pairs’ earlier character Oswald the Rabbit (seen here) just with rouder ears.

So when Disney lost the rights to Oswald to their distributor, Iwerks, with Disney’s feedback, came up with Mickey. I actually think it more remarkable that two artists were able to create such a durable character under intense time and fiscal pressure than if he were to just burst fully formed, Athena-like, from Walt’s imagination. Mickey’s strong character is a testament to Disney’s and Iwerks’ ingenuity. After Steamboat Willie the rest became history, though some films were better than others and there were still rough spots over the decades. The character also went through an immense visual evolution, from his initial black face appearance through various eyeballs to the CGI incarnation we have today on The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. As a character he switched from the role of imp to caregiver, the straight man to Donald and Goofy, Chip and Dale, or whoever else. I think things would have been very interesting if he had remained somewhat as bad a boy as he started out (a feat that Bugs Bunny managed to perform), but such a role just never would have worked in the Disney cosmology as it solidified. And we have some genuine gems of charitable behavior, like Mickey’s Orphans and his treatment of Pluto in general, that never would have occurred otherwise.

So rather than writing on and on, I thought I’d throw together a chronological highlight reel, starting with film number two, The Gallopin’ Gaucho:



And here, in all its synchronized glory, is Steamboat Willie, which takes its name from the Buster Keaton film Steamboat Bill, Jr. (one of the greatest comedies ever made—everyone should watch it, with their kids).




The Plow Boy from 1929:



A pattern is emerging, of course, which basically is: Mickey executes gags, mostly musical, in different milieu. Funny enough and well done, this formula eventually called for new characters. Here’s Pluto’s first appearance, in 1930’s The Chain Gang, although his role is far from Mickey's best friend (he chases him after a jail break) and he wouldn’t be named for several more films. Pegleg Pete was already an established villain, as we’ve seen.

I really like this early stuff but obviously can’t put every Mickey film ever made, so let me jump straight to 1935 with what is possibly my favorite Mickey cartoon, The Band Concert. It’s a Donald Duck film as much as Mickey’s (notice the aforementioned role reversal), but I just love it for its music, the blending of the William Tell Overture with “Turkey in the Straw” (something I first paid attention to at the behest of BYU film instructor Dean Duncan; check out his book on film music):



Since this is a children’s media blog, I also remember laughing and laughing at Kevin Funk’s house when I was kid watching Mickey’s Trailer, from 1938:



Then with another facelift--an eyeball change, really--Mickey was ready for “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” sequence in Fantasia. This has often been disparaged, among other reasons for how it mickey mouses Paul Dukas’s music, ironically, but I still think it a magnificent sequence and was very glad to see it retained in Fantasia 2000. Loretta’s never seen this, I don’t think, but I’ve used it very profitably as a bedtime story, although I only know the tale from this version rather than from Goethe’s original.




Now, I’m going to forego discussions of marketing, watches, live shows, rip offs, etc. Here, however, is an original opening from The Mickey Mouse Club. Those ears have become as recognizable an icon as the McDonald’s arches or any other logo, including Disney’s own.



And here’s an example of what kids are watching today on the CGI Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, which still features a role call as per the live action original:



Notice how the curricular and interactive elements of recent children’s television has influenced the content. This may not have the sophistication of The Band Concert, but it’s perfect for preschoolers:



Happy birthday, Mickey, and thanks to everyone at Playhouse Disney who’s keeping the character relevant for a new generation. Next week—I hope—I’ll continue the Mickey celebrations with a few thoughts on what it means when your cartoon mouse passes the age of copyright.