THE JUNGLE BOOK: Blu-ray (Walt Disney 1967) Disney Home Video
Walt Disney’s The Jungle Book (1967) is undeniably
one of the crown jewels in the studio’s illustrious canon of animated classics;
also, regrettably, the last project to be touched by the hand of original
genius, affectionately referred to around the lot as ‘Uncle Walt’. It’s often
been stated (but bears mentioning yet again) that Disney was a truly rarified
individual in Hollywood – and this, in an era when some very rare and iconic
creatures walked the earth in Southern California. Arguably, Walt was a husband and father
first, a creative genius second, and a studio mogul third. Walt Disney: the
custodian of our collective upbringing and coming of age; the man who implicitly
promised us ‘a dream is a wish our hearts
made’; who fostered the very best work in the art of animation by inspiring
great talents to excel in their craft (and with whom he remained utterly
fascinated by, and ever-devoted to, throughout their lengthy careers at the
studio). Walt was, in fact, a very humble, exceedingly genuine human being; but
particularly so in matters of business: again, in an industry where public
image is everything and the realities of the person behind it often miles apart.
To Walt,
however, there seemed to be no artifice, no affectations and no self-appointed airs
about his preeminence in the world of entertainment. And make no mistake:
Disney was a titanic figure in the history of Hollywood. Walt’s enduring
humanity, his love of children (and, in fact, the child within us all) and his
desire to unite the world with his own inimitable brand of enchantment; these altruistic
motives cannot be overstated. They most certainly ought never to be forgotten.
For Walt Disney – apart from his many glowing accomplishments (the most honored
individual in the history of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences
with twenty-six statuettes) was an exception above most – or perhaps, first and
foremost - though arguably, he never regarded himself as such.
No, Disney was
a simple man, but the best kind: imbued with an innate thirst to enrich us by
sharing his uncommon qualities and immeasurable gifts as the pied piper of our
collective childhoods. For some time now, in our popular culture it has become
rather fashionable to bash great men – particularly after they have left us and
cannot defend themselves from the allegations. Yet Disney’s reputation – apart
from a few minor attempts to tarnish it – has largely remained Teflon-coated; a
testament to Walt’s continued ability to inspire, illuminate and ultimately fill
the world with benevolence for humanity at large.
At the height
of its creative output, the Disney Studio was something of a bastion for some
of the most gifted artisans working in movies during the mid-20th
century; impressionist painters like Mary Blair, animators, Marc Davis and
Wolfgang Reitherman, the incomparable matte artist, Peter Ellenshaw and
brilliant technical advisor, Ub Iwerks; composers (Richard and Robert Sherman)
and, of course, gifted ‘idea’/story man, Bill Peet. In this latter example we
have something of a more complicated individual; Peet having joined the studio
in 1937 just as Snow White and the Seven
Dwarfs was beginning production, and remaining an ensconced figure within
its’ hallowed halls until 1964 – just as creative development on The Jungle Book was picking up steam. It
was, in fact, Peet who suggested Rudyard Kipling’s classic to Walt. However, unlike
Walt, Peet seems to have been something of a volatile sort – utterly brilliant
in his ability to draw cohesion from the chaos of story-boarding sessions and
extremely instrumental in shaping the creative ideas that went into some of
Walt’s most exceptional and celebrated masterpieces; Pinocchio (1940), Cinderella
(1950) and Sleeping Beauty (1959)
among them.
Lamentably,
Peet had a correspondingly low threshold for what he deemed the abject tedium
imposed on artists by the studio’s hierarchy. He also had a fiery disposition
when his authority was questioned. Throughout his association with the studio,
Peet frequently – and often penetratingly – quarreled with Walt, who not only
tolerated these outbursts, but respected Peet for his commitment to each and
every last detail; a fastidiousness not unlike his own in many respects. Such
is a true artist, I suppose; defiant in his beliefs and standing behind every
last concept to defend it to the bitter end. By 1964, Peet’s creative authority
was no longer in question. But his sledgehammer tactics, both in promoting, then
enforcing his decisions, had also begun to wear thin on Walt’s patience. Worse
for Peet, was the inevitable downsizing of the studio – the onus for every
animated feature’s narrative structure after 1959 resting squarely on his
shoulders. Despite his immeasurable contributions on the preliminary stages of The Jungle Book, Peet would not remain
at the studio long enough to see most of his concepts incorporated into the
finished film. The rift was predicated on the critical and financial failure of
The Sword and the Stone (1963),
leaving an open wound in their creative differences for many years to come.
Yet, The Jungle Book emerged from this
backstage fray virtually unscathed; a swan song befitting Walt’s many
contributions in the art of animation and undeniably one of the films for which
the old master would very much like to be remembered. The Jungle Book is also, unquestioningly, a turning point in the
way animated features had been made up until that point – Walt’s desire to cast
bona fide ‘stars’ and record their vocals before a single drawing had been committed
to paper, prompting some of his animators to bristle. But like most decisions
made by Walt, this one too proved inspired.
Walt had
wanted to do a movie version of the beloved Rudyard Kipling children’s
adventure book for some time. But the project kept getting delayed throughout
the years; first by Walt’s aspirations to diversify his empire with segues into
both live-action features and television. Walt was also distracted by the
creation and expansion of his theme park; the official opening of Disneyland in
1955 a groundbreaking event, more costly even than his crippling investment
(six years and $6 million spent) on Sleeping
Beauty (1959). No, it just wasn’t The
Jungle Book’s time.
After Sleeping Beauty’s stunning debut (for
it must remain under consideration as, arguably, the most lavishly produced Disney
feature ever attempted) the studio incurred a staggering debt, forcing Walt to
reconsider more economical ways to make subsequent animated features. Even as
the studio’s schedule of live-action movies was ramping up to include such
heavy hitters as Swiss Family Robinson,
Pollyanna (both released in 1960), The Parent Trap (1961) and the
penultimate Disney classic, Mary Poppins
(1964), the sixties were marked by a period of retrenchment where animation was
concerned; One Hundred and One
Dalmatians (1961) and The Sword and
the Stone (1963) the decade’s only predecessors to The Jungle Book.
While the
former proved to be an immediate hit, the latter was poorly received by audiences
and critics alike, and Walt, to some extent, blamed Bill Peet’s unerring
stubborn resolve on the project for its tepid reception. Viewed today, The Sword in the Stone remains one of
Disney’s weakest animated features – if not
the weakest; its lack of hummable songs and rather farcical handling of
England’s most treasured mythologies about Camelot and Merlin, leading some
critics of their day even to question Walt’s integrity as a storyteller.
Early on, Walt
made several executive decisions that would positively impact The Jungle Book. First, he all but
threw away the Rudyard Kipling original in favor of his own embellishments and
sight gags. Next, he hired Richard and Robert B. Sherman to augment the story
with pop tunes. Indeed, The Jungle Book
remains the most top-heavily tune-filled of Disney’s post-war animated movies.
Furthermore, no attempt was made to acclimatize the score to either the movie’s
period or its surroundings. The Sherman’s score, and Terry Gilkyson’s
Oscar-nominated ‘The Bare Necessities’
is decidedly an homage to swingin’ sixties jazz (resident composer George
Bruns, handling the underscore). The Jungle Book is also a departure for
its all-star cast, relying almost exclusively on these star presences to carry
the film. There’s really not much in the way of plot, and frankly, not much more
needed to delight the audience completely; strung along on the
hipster-harmonizing cool of Louis Prima and mischievous underplaying by Phil
Harris, who initially balked at Walt’s request, believing his voice would never
lend itself to Baloo, the bear.
Yet, it all
clicks rather effortlessly - perhaps, because the stars chosen to annunciate
these characters have been seriously typecast as their uber-equivalent in the
animal kingdom; George Sanders oozing suave menace as Shere Khan, the tiger;
Sterling Holloway (one of Walt’s perennial favorites) – utterly effective as
the slithering sycophant, Kaa – the snake; indubitably cultured and scrupulous
Sebastian Cabot as Bagheera – the panther; J. Pat O'Malley, pomposity
personified, doing Colonel Hathi – the lead elephant; and finally, the
aforementioned Louis Prima, whose gravelly voice and loose musical styling lend
perfect accompaniment to the long-limbed orangutan, King Louie.
Walt believed
so firmly in the texturing of these vocal talents – each immediately
recognizable to anyone over the age of eleven – that he all but ignored some of
the animators’ initial concerns over the non-linear narrative. If viewed only from
this narrow perspective, then The Jungle
Book really doesn’t have much to offer; the story of an orphaned man-club
Mowgli (Bruce Reitherman) reared by wolves, but befriended thereafter by
virtually all the various animals – except Shere Khan – is given over to a series
of episodic vignettes. Miraculously, none veer off course. When the story
paints itself into a corner the characters merely break into song.
Comparatively speaking, one could never get away with as much in a live action
feature without bringing everything to a screeching halt. But animation is
unique amongst movie art in its ability to suspend our collective disbelief and
simply fall under the spell of its colorful imagery. Moreover, The Jungle Book’s superb vocalizations
ensure boredom never sets in.
George Sanders
and Sebastian Cabot, for example, are Shakespearean trained orators who could,
arguably, recite the telephone book and get away with it. On the other hand,
Sterling Holloway’s is a voice unlike any other; as is J. Pat O’Malley’s. We
can sense the weight in their diction without straining to find deeper meaning.
Finally, Louis Prima and Phil Harris exhibit the hallmarks of veteran
entertainers from their respective fields. When they sing they emote – and vice
versa; the lyrical joy in their unique sound triggering an instant appreciation
for their innate gifts as beloved hams. For
its’ infectious vivacity, its expressive vocal characterizations perfectly
captured through the art of imagination, and its exuberant joie de vivre, The Jungle Book remains an exemplar of
where the modern animated movie eventually gravitated; away from the fairy-tale
and into a whole new world of character-driven musical comedies loosely strung
together by the most threadbare of plots.
Our story
begins, of course, in the wilds of India. Very little of Rudyard Kipling’s dark
adventure novel remains in the finished movie, but the opening scenes of The Jungle Book capture at least
something of its’ essence as we hear the silken voice of Bagheera (Sebastian
Cabot), the black panther, narrate. In short order, we watch Bagheera rescue
the baby Mowgli from an abandoned basket near the water’s edge, taking him to
the den of a wolf pack to be reared until the age of ten. But when the pack
learns Shere Khan, the tiger (George Sanders) has returned to these parts,
having heard of Mowgli and determined to kill him before he can reach
adulthood, they decide the boy must be taken to the nearby man village for his
own protection. Bagheera agrees to be Mowgli’s custodian on this journey, keeping
its true purpose a secret from the boy.
Mowgli is
distraught when he discovers what is going on, and stubbornly resolved not to
go through with Bagheera’s plan. A moonlit confrontation with Kaa, the python
(Sterling Holloway) follows, in which Mowgli is hypnotized, then nearly eaten
by Kaa; a fate narrowly avoided first, by Bagheera (who distracts the slithery
predator and is himself, hypnotized) then by Mowgli, who pushes Kaa off his
perch in the tree and into a heap on the ground, leaving kinks in his coils.
The next day,
Bagheera and Mowgli are awakened by Colonel Hathi’s dawn patrol of marching
elephants. Mowgli makes a friend of Hathi’s son (Clint Howard), but a rather
cantankerous enemy of Hathi himself, who advises Bagheera to take the Mowgli to
the man village with all speed. Instead, Mowgli defies them both, running off
into the jungle where he inadvertently meets Baloo, the bear (Phil Harris). At
first resisting Baloo’s friendship, Mowgli quickly discovers he is just as
determined to have him remain in the jungle. Bagheera attempts to sway the pair
to reconsider. But Baloo introduces Mowgli to ‘the bare necessities’ of life.
Regrettably, a nearby pack of monkeys is waiting to kidnap the boy and bring him
to the ancient hidden ruins where King Louie – the orangutan – reigns supreme.
Louie’s
rapacious interest in Mowgli is driven by his desire to possess the secret of
‘man’s red flower’ – fire. As Mowgli has been reared in the wilds, and
therefore, knows absolutely nothing of mankind – ergo, fire – he can be of no
use to King Louie. This might prove disastrous, except that Baloo and Bagheera
have devised a plan to save the boy; Baloo disguising himself as a female
orangutan – complete with cocoanut-shell snout and grass skirt, and, engaging
the lustful Louie in a spirited dance, interrupted only after Baloo’s disguise
comes loose. After some spirited slapstick (Baloo tickling Louie’s armpits
until his infectious laugher topples the remains of the ancient temple) Baloo,
Bagheera and Mowgli retreat into the jungle. Mowgli is still determined to
remain with Baloo. But Bagheera sees Baloo to reason. Even together, they would
never be able to stop Shere Khan from killing Mowgli.
Baloo agrees
to betray his promise to Mowgli for the sake of the child’s safety. However,
once exposed in his complicity, Mowgli shuns his old friend with bitter tears
and runs away. In the meantime, Shere Khan has returned, consulting with a very
nervous and highly suspicious Kaa, who is vague about Mowgli’s whereabouts.
Mowgli is discovered, alone and friendless in a clearing by some inquisitive
vultures (Chad Stuart and Lord Tim Hudson supplying all the voices) who are
hilarious knock-offs of The Beatles. They
momentarily befriend and serenade Mowgli as a barbershop quartet. Initially,
the Shermans had intended their song to be recorded with a rock and roll tempo,
making a more obvious parallel to The Beatles. Walt, however, believed such a
transparent reference would date the movie, and so the decision was made to
play the vultures ‘straight’, while retaining their decidedly British accents
and what Colonel Hathi might have astutely referred to as their ‘goony-looking haircuts’.
Shere Khan is
watching from the underbrush and strikes at the appropriate moment. The
vultures scatter, but then regroup and feebly attempt to create a diversion.
Baloo charges at Shere Khan; catching the proverbial tiger by the tail as a
bolt of lightning from a gathering thunderstorm ignites a nearby petrified
tree. Mowgli seizes one of the burning branches and ties it to Shere Khan’s
tail, forcing the frightening oversized kitty into the forest. Victory is at
hand. Only, it now appears Baloo has succumbed to wounds inflicted during their
fight, presumably lying dead in a quiet pool of rainwater near the clearing. Bagheera
comforts an emotional Mowgli, eulogizing Baloo as a valiant friend who gave his
life in a worthy cause. Only then does Baloo open his eyes to reveal he has
been quietly listening to them all along and has, in fact, emerged from the
confrontation with Shere Khan relatively unscathed.
The three old
friends depart into the forest, coming upon the man village where Mowgli hears
the melodic strains of a young girl sweetly singing by the babbling brook.
Inquisitive to know more about her, Mowgli climbs a tree, but loses his
footing; slipping and falling into the water and momentarily startling them
both. As Bagheera and Baloo look on, Mowgli is lured into the man village by
the girl’s subtle flirtations. “Well,
he’s hooked,” Baloo explains. His disappointment, however, is short-lived,
as Bagheeri engages Baloo in a spirited reprise of ‘The Bare Necessities’; the two
old chums departing paw in paw into the sunset; a most fitting epitaph to
Walt’s untimely departure.
The Jungle Book was released nearly a year after
Walt’s death and was an instant success. In many ways it gave the old-time
animators and their fledgling new breed of up and comers a renewed send of
pride and the fortitude to look ahead to the future without Walt. There would
be bumps along this road; a steady and severe decline in the animated movie’s
popularity in general, and, dwindling returns at the theme parks too. But in
the early 1980’s a new regime, helmed by former Paramount executive, Michael
Eisner, reinvigorated the Disney brand and profits, this time by diversifying
the company’s assets with forays into more adult-themed movies via the newly instituted
‘Touchstone’ label, but also an aggressive reinvestment in TV – with particular
successes achieved in the sit-com. There was even a brief resurgence of ‘The
Disney Sunday Movie’ on ABC – a coveted timeslot held for many years by the
Disney organization to promote new made-for-TV programming under their family
banner and air time-honored Disney classics from the vault.
In retrospect,
The Jungle Book poignantly marks the
sign post at this crossroads in the studio’s history; movies made by Walt and
those created after his passing. The
animal characterizations are far removed from any of the realism achieved in
films like Bambi (1942) or even One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961).
Shere Khan’s physical presence, as example, is so obviously derived from the
visage, deportment and mannerisms of George Sanders, even going so far as to
capture Sander’s square jaw in profile, that one cannot help but immediately
identify the actor with his animated alter ego.
Yet, The Jungle Book remains
a joyous, sincere and thoroughly satisfying send up to Kipling and to the
master himself – Walt Disney; a splendid revision of a beloved book, and one
hell of a good show besides. Since The
Jungle Book, animated features have increasingly relied on star-powered
voices to successfully market the movies. Regrettably, far too many of the
studio’s subsequent efforts have done so at the expense of solid storytelling.
Arguably, The Jungle Book lacks this too. And
yet, it doesn’t seem to matter in its case. The film continues to work its magic
primarily because it carefully balances the obviousness in its
characterizations with subtle nods to Kipling’s source material, tongue-firmly-in-cheek
and with the cream of the jest explicitly designed to entertain us. The Jungle Book also points away from
the time-honored fairy tale tradition that – with very few exceptions - had been
the studio’s bread and butter during its golden period. After Disney’s brief
cultural renaissance and love-in with the fairytale in the late 1980’s early
90’s (The Little Mermaid 1989, Beauty and the Beast 1991, Aladdin 1992), the studio once again
retreated to the precepts first established by The Jungle Book, delving into more contemporary fare; Toy Story (1995), Monsters Inc. (2001), Cars
(2006) et al; but abandoning hand-drawn animation to streamline the art and
expedite the time between theatrical releases. But The
Jungle Book remains the trailblazer that set these standards. It’s a wonder to behold, a treasure worthy of
our embrace and a delightful movie to share with the entire family. “Oh, ooo-bee, do! I wanna be like you-hoo-hoo!”
Disney’s new
Diamond Edition Blu-ray leaves something to be desired. The intense DNR scrubbing
applied with rather globular lack of precision on The Sword and the Stone is almost as egregious on The Jungle Book. We’ve lost the film’s
original grain structure as well as some of the finer lines and details in the
rough pencil drawings – faithfully reproduced by the Xerox process. This
digital ‘clean-up’ is, of course, problematic. Those who have never known The Jungle Book may not miss what is
absent. But the movie doesn’t look anything like it did back in 1967, or even as
it might have during its multiple theatrical reissues. Color is markedly improved.
The image sports a robust palette of lurid greens, sun-shine yellows,
magnificent midnight blues and velvety blacks. It all looks good, but decidedly
not great and this is a shame for a film as beloved as The Jungle Book.
Disney’s
insistence on creating new 7.1 DTS tracks for Blu-ray doesn’t really utilize
the fullest range herein, presumably because the original elements do not lend
themselves to as much tinkering and/or manipulations. The most obvious improvements are made to the
celebrated songs and underscore. These sound fabulous. Dialogue is less
impressive, however, and somewhat tinny. Thankfully, we also get the original
mono mix in Dolby Digital. Honestly, this is the way I remember The Jungle Book sounding in my theater
– more or less – and it works for me. I’m not opposed to the 7.1, but it’s
decidedly not as effective as other similar mixes Disney has committed to on
previously issued catalogue Blu-rays. This one just seems to draw undue
attention to itself.
New extra
features are limited. Thankfully, Disney Inc. is not adverse to including the
wealth of extras from their DVD editions; albeit, none remastered in hi-def.
New stuff includes a brief intro from the late Diane Disney Miller – Walt’s daughter
– and, songwriter Richard Sherman; also, the originally planned ending in
storyboard; a sequence devoted to Mowgli’s difficult assimilation into the man
village. There’s also a shameless PR junket for Disney Animation’s ‘spark’
program and less than 10 minutes of Richard Sherman, animator Floyd Norman, and
Diane Disney Miller at the Walt Disney Family Museum inside the Presidio. Three
toss away features that help you isolate the songs for a sing-a-long are also
included. Finally, there’s an 18 min. tour of Disney’s Animal Kingdom; a
superficially slapped together commercial endorsement designed to entice the
toddler sect into begging their parents for a vacation at the Magic Kingdom;
clever – but transparent, if you ask me.
Mercifully, we
get much better content carried over from the original DVD extras. These
include the comprehensive audio commentary, featuring Richard Sherman again,
artist Andreas Deja, and Mowgli’s voice, Bruce Reitherman along with archived
interviews from many other talents involved in the movie’s creation, now sadly
dead and gone. Great stuff. Better still
is the 46 min. ‘making of’ documentary, and, nearly 15 minutes of comparative
analysis between Rudyard Kipling’s classic and the film; plus 9 additional
minutes of present day animators affectionately waxing about the Lure of The
Jungle Book. A brief discussion with Bruce Reitherman follows. In it, he
explains the impact the movie had on his present choice of career (he’s a
nature documentarian).
There’s also a
vintage snippet from Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color featuring Ollie
Johnson and Frank Thomas; two of the most beloved of Disney’s original nine old
men, and a brief storyboard recreation of a scene to have included a rhino cut from
the movie. Finally, there is the Jonas Brothers reworking of ‘I Wanna Be Like You’ – an utterly
painful assault on the eardrum. Stick to the original. You’ll have a better
appreciation for the song. Bottom line: The
Jungle Book is a seminal work in the Disney canon. This disc isn’t a faithful
rendering. But for those who don’t recall it in its original form the digital
liberties taken to ‘clean up’ the movie for a whole new generation won’t seem
all that distracting.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
5
VIDEO/AUDIO
3
EXTRAS
5+
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