101 Dalmatians

Spot of trouble: The meet-cute scene from Disney’s 1961 cartoon classic 101 Dalmatians.

It’s one of the final feature-length animated movies to bear Walt Disney’s personal stamp (1963’s The Sword in the Stone would be his last official cartoon; 1967’s The Jungle Book
was issued posthumously, although Disney extensively worked on the
production prior to his 1966 passing), yet it’s also a work that Disney
felt relatively cool about. As discussed on the second disc’s 34-minute
profile “Redefining the Line,” Dalmatians was the first Disney
cartoon to employ the Xerox method of churning out animated cels, a
process that delighted those who painstakingly drew the character
movements—but also resulted in the layoffs of longtime pen and ink
specialists. 

Disney quietly bemoaned the fact that the lush cartooning of Peter Pan and Dumbo had been supplanted by the more modern styles of Dalmatians,
with its abstract backgrounds (from art director Ken Anderson) and wild
splotches of greens, oranges and browns (courtesy of color stylist Walt
Peregoy). The public disagreed with Disney’s personal assessment,
however, and it remains a timeless, fast-paced affair. 

Taken from the doggie viewpoint, the fun
begins when pooch Pongo (voiced by Rod Taylor, prior to his he-man
casting in the 1960-1961 ABC series Hong Kong and way before his role in Hitchcock’s 1963 The Birds)
plays matchmaker to his human “pet,” struggling songwriter Roger (Ben
Wright), and lovely charmer Anita (Lisa Davis), who likes to walk her
female Dalmatian Perdita (Cate Bauer). Fifteen pups later, including
one who’s always hungry and another that is addicted to the boob tube,
all is seemingly well—until Cruella slips into dog-snatching mode,
sequestering the canines at a distant and decrepit farmhouse. It’s a
good thing the London pooches can track down the pups by passing along
the “Twilight Bark,” a method of communication that triggers an
engaging sequence with some surprise cameos from cast members of Lady and the Tramp. 

“Redefining the Line” offers more praise from Disney historians and current animators such as Pixar’s Brad Bird (Ratatouille, The Incredibles),
with additional memories from Lisa Davis (so where’s Rod Taylor?) and
the many cartoonists who toiled on this project and trivia such as
Disney needing an animation crew just to keep putting the spots on the
dogs. Also on the second disc: a seven-minute tribute to Cruella De Vil
and director Marc Davis, who had carte blanche to make this diva
supremely outrageous; the 13-minute “Sincerely Yours, Walt Disney,” a
recreation of the back-and-forth correspondence between Disney and
British author Dodie Smith, who penned the book A Hundred and One Dalmatians
(pleased with the final results, Smith was still gently annoyed about
the brevity of her screen credit); and a host of trailers and TV and
radio spots from the film’s releases in 1961, 1969, 1979 and 1985. One
CinemaScope trailer brutally lops off the top and bottom of the image
to get reformatted into the widescreen frame.) Art galleries, which
include photos of actors performing scenes as live-action reference
points for the animators, are included, as well as deleted songs and
some games for the kids.

The film itself is presented in its
original full screen ratio on the first disc, with a restored image
taken from a Technicolor dye transfer print that is jumping with
vibrant colors, plus soundtrack options that include the 1961
theatrical track and a 5.1 surround sound replication. For fans of
pop-up informational tidbits, there are separate options detailing 101
facts for families and another 101 for animation buffs. For kids, more
games are on hand and a three-minute “Cruella De Vil” music video
warbled by Disney Channel tween starlet Selena Gomez. And Cruella’s
pink cigarette vice is employed for an anti-smoking spot! By the way,
despite the DVD packaging, let alone years of reissues, the film’s
on-screen title is still One Hundred and One Dalmatians.