Sep 10

Dickens, Disney, Oliver, and Company, video recording

In August I gave a talk at the Orlando Public Library, part of their year-long “What the Dickens” event. They recorded the talk, and have posted the video to their YouTube channel. It links together a few different clips from the talk:

Aug 21

Dickens, Disney, Oliver, and Company

This weekend I’ll be delivering my first public lecture, at the Orlando Public Library. I’m participating in their “What the Dickens” event, a year-long celebration of Charles Dickens. The timing is apt: I just returned from Dickens Universe, a yearly event in Santa Cruz for both scholars and the public. And right before that I was taking part in a National Endowment for the Humanities seminar, also about Dickens.

Dickens, Disney, Oliver, and Company poster Both of those experiences fed directly into this weekend’s talk, which really had its origins in a class I taught last spring, “Disney’s Victorians,” and a resulting conference paper delivered at the Children’s Literature Association conference.

While I was in California, I took a brief trip down to the Disney Archives. I spent a very productive two days there, looking at research reports from the 1940s, about Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan, and at early drafts of Oliver & Company, Disney’s version of Oliver Twist. The latter is what my talk will focus on.

Oliver & Company had its origins in a 1985 story meeting — the same meeting at which animators pitched ideas for The Little Mermaid and “Treasure Island in space” (to become Treasure Planet a decade and a half later). Both those ideas were rejected, initially, and they decided to make “Oliver Twist with dogs.”

I’ll lead up to “Oliver Twist with dogs,” but will start in the late 1830s, with Dickens’s first work of fiction, The Pickwick Papers, and his first planned novel Oliver Twist. After focusing on the origins of these works, in the illustrations and the Poor Laws, I’ll turn to early stage adaptations. Victorian copyright didn’t extend across media, so Dickens had no control over (and made no money from) the theatrical versions of Pickwick or Oliver — both were on stage before they were even finished (they were published serially, so playwrights had about 2/3 of the text to draw on; they had to guess the end.) And, because of a century-old censorship act, plays staged anywhere other than state-licensed theaters (of which there were only two) had to include some element besides dramatic speech — usually music and dancing, hence the genre of the melodrama.

My goal, in describing this history, is to contextualize “Oliver Twist with dogs.” I’ll focus especially on the murder of Nancy, which is a major event in the book and becomes even more central to the stage adaptations. But surely Disney wouldn’t include such a scene of sexual violence — or would they? If you’re in Orlando, come to the talk and find out! (If not, I’m hoping to post a recording here).

Jun 18

Dermatological Disney Scholarship; or, Academic Arguments and Corporate Narratives

Tomorrow morning I leave North Carolina, where I’ve spentCinderella castle night the last three weeks talking about “the construction of childhood in words and images” at the National Humanities Center, and head back to Florida via Columbia, SC, where the Children’s Literature Association annual conference is held this year. It’s a wonderful conference (though you don’t have to take my word for it) and I always enjoy my time there.

The paper I’m presenting developed out of a course I taught this spring, “Disney’s Victorians.” It was initially something of a gimmick: I wanted to combine a Victorians course with a children’s literature course (which students want but which our department doesn’t typically offer), and since we’re in Orlando, Disney seemed an obvious choice. I figured we would read Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan and “The Little Mermaid,” and students would learn about the Victorian period, children’s literature, and film adaptation.

As I prepared for the course, though, I was struck by the number of Victorian texts the studio adapted, especially in its early years, when Walt Disney was most involved in the film production part of the company. When I proposed the paper, I had a fairly clear idea of the argument I wanted to make: that the Victorian period greatly appealed to Walt, and that his adaptation of so many Victorian-era results from his personal nostalgia. As I made that case, though, I found myself suspicious that my own argument lined up so closely with the narrative the Disney company promotes — and then suspicious of my own suspicion. Does it matter if my argument agrees with the official corporate narrative?

Most scholarship on Disney does not follow the company’s version. This criticism can probably be traced back to Frances Clark Sayers’s 1965 letter to the Los Angeles Times. “I call [Disney] to account,” writes Sayers, “for his debasement of the traditional literature of childhood, in films and in the books he publishes. He shows scant respect for the integrity of the original creations of authors, manipulating and vulgarizing everything for his own ends.” Critics have followed Sayers’s lead, and much scholarship calls Disney to account for Euro-centrism, promotion of a “princess culture” and unrealistic body images, or stereotyping of nonwhite characters.

My panel session is titled “Dissecting Disney,” a title that privileges that approach. And this criticism is important. But as many people (including me, on this blog) pointed out, not only have these criticisms of Disney gone mainstream, but Frozen starts to challenge some of those arguments: director Jennifer Lee is quoted in the Telegraph about the company’s revised treatment of gender roles in its films.

What’s a critic to do? Must we be suspicious of all statements the Disney company makes about itself? On Friday I’ll be talking about Disney’s Victorians, but also trying to think through this question of suspicion. I wonder, must we always be vivisectionists, dissecting Disney? Or can we be dermatologists, paying attention to surfaces as well?