One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961)

I think I’ve thoroughly established that I am very much a dog person. I love dogs. But that is too many dogs. That is a ludicrous amount of dogs. Animal hoarding is bad. Don’t do it.

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It’s always a nice feeling to be back in the world of animation. And this is a movie that’s particularly special to me. Not because of childhood nostalgia, because I was always kinda lukewarm to it as a kid, but because of a fateful trip to the pound about seven years ago. Suddenly, Dalmatians became a favorite breed and having a Disney movie all about them became a big deal. Everything in my family has long been Disney related, but now we had yet another special connection. And her name is Luna.

Okay, so she’s not a purebred Dalmatian. She’s half Dalmatian, half English pointer, half velociraptor, half chicken wing. She’s got birth defects, like the giant bald spots on her lower body and the back of her head and her weird, goatlike face. She’s not even technically mine. But I’m her favorite so there, Mom. And because I love my mom’s dog, a movie of whole bunches of dogs that look like less mutated versions of her has skyrocketed up my list of favorite Disney movies. So this one goes out to my little Loony Lovebug, who would make a terrible fur coat ❤

One Hundred and One Dalmatians started life as a children’s book by Dodie Smith. Ms Smith owned nine Dalmatians, including one named Pongo, and took inspiration from a joke her friend made about what beautiful fur coats they would make (I don’t understand this, they’re short-haired dogs). Secretly, though, she wrote her book in the hopes that Walt Disney would make a film out of it. Just a year after publication, she got her wish and he bought the rights to it! And she was thrilled with the result, even going as far to say that the story and the character designs improved upon her original work!

However, by this point, Walt had become entirely disenchanted with animation. He was already starting to lose interest, but Sleeping Beauty’s failure made him actively dislike the medium. For the first time, he gave one man, Bill Peet, complete creative control over the story. Even in the ’60s, some people were completely technologically illiterate, and that included Peet. He didn’t know how to use a typewriter, so he wrote the whole script down by hand on a pad of yellow paper. In two months, he had a script Walt was happy with, so the storyboarding process began.

If the medium that started the company had a future, One Hundred and One Dalmatians had to be a hit. Lucky for all of us, it was! It made back $303 million on a $3.6 million budget, cut down drastically by the new Xerography process. I’ll detail that more in the Artistry segment. Critics had mostly positive reviews, saying it felt the most like a Disney movie since Snow White (what). They loved the warm fuzzy feelings the film evoked and had fun with the adventure of the great puppy rescue. Some criticisms included a desire for more songs and a dislike of the severe climax, but even now it retains a 98% on Rotten Tomatoes.

It must be said, I love this movie because my mom has a Dalmatian, not the other way around. It did create a huge demand for Dalmatians and a rash of irresponsible breeders creating aggressive and neurotic dogs, which is a bad. But my mom is a lot less stressed out when she’s got something to take care of, our old dog had just passed, and my sister and I were getting ready to leave for college. We went to a shelter and a little tiny white puppy wouldn’t leave my mom’s side. The rest is history! Since we got Luna, the movie featuring her breed (or one of them) has become a frequent watch when my sister and I go to visit. Let’s see if it holds up to my deep analyses for reasons other than “my dog is adorable.” But really. My dog is adorable.

STORY

An awesome, surreal, jazzy credits sequence that marks this as the second Disney movie set in the modern day (after Dumbo). It’s fun and abstract and definitely lets the audience know that this is no fairy tale. Equally as fun is the bait and switch with the opening narration. The camera pulls in on a man playing the piano and his Dalmatian snoozing in the window as the narrator tells us about the life he lives with his pet. Only then do we find out that the narrator is Pongo, the dog, and the pet in question is Roger, the human. It’s very clever. That’s what I like about this movie. Everything about it has a great sense of wit to it.

Pongo continues his story, informing us that Roger is a struggling musician with no time for romantic relationships. That just won’t do for Pongo, who is bored of the single life. In another clever little gag, he pokes his head out the window to check out the human girls and female dogs. All the girls look just like their dogs! Pongo doesn’t care for many of the prospects, until he lays eyes on Anita, a pretty girl walking an exquisite female Dalmatian. It’s love at first sight for Pongo, but he has to make sure Roger falls in love with the human girl. He noses the hands on the clock forward to 5PM to trick Roger into going for a walk in the park.

Now, when a Dalmatian is on a mission, you go where he wants or risk losing an arm. They’re strong doggos. Such is the case as Pongo bolts after Perdita, dragging poor Roger behind him. He only stops when he finds Anita on a bench reading a book with Perdita seated primly beside her. To get their attention, Pongo seizes Roger’s hat for a game of fetch and drops it right next to Anita. But she’s gone! Panicking, Pongo bolts again, tangling his leash around the human’ legs until they’re stuck right up against each other. Roger apologizes profusely while scolding Pongo, but Pongo isn’t done with his very aggressive matchmaking. A well-timed tug sends the two humans toppling into the pond. At first Anita sobs, beside herself at the ruin of her clothes, while Roger apologizes. Then, slowly, the two realize the absurdity of the situation and begin to laugh. Perdita smiles at Pongo, and against all odds, we have a successful and iconic meet cute.

One time skip later, and we have a double wedding! Initially, this was a much bigger scene but it was cut down for fear of offending people with religious imagery. Honestly, I like how understated it is, with the two couples in front of the big stained glass window. It’s a beautiful shot and, in my opinion, one of the signature moments of the film. So now they’re married, and they relocate to a little place just big enough for two people and two medium-large dogs. Everything is quiet, cozy, and perfect. And there’s some good news! Perdita is about to have a litter of puppies!

One quiet, cozy afternoon, Anita and their housekeeper, Nanny, undertake the Herculean task of getting Roger down from the attic, where he’s hard at work on a jazzy new melody. Finally, he comes down for some good-natured teasing about how he doesn’t have lyrics yet. Suddenly, the tranquil afternoon is shattered by screeching tires and a blaring horn as a sleek red automobile swerves down the street. Roger and Pongo roll their eyes as they realize who it is, but she does give Roger the perfect lyrics for his new song: slandering his wife’s old friend! Seriously, I know she’s gloriously awful, but considering she hasn’t actually done anything yet, I’m pretty sure this is illegal. But it is a fantastic leadup. As he prances around singing about how evil this woman is, Anita frantically shushes him and an ominous silouhette fills up the glass door.

And then… SHE’S HERE. Cruella flounces into the scene, sweeping her fur coat around, spewing rancid green smoke, and dripping phoniness into every pleasantry. Anita tries to keep the peace with her old schoolmate and… wait, no. Hold up. We need to talk about this. How in the hell are these women schoolmates? Cruella looks a solid forty years older than Anita! Must be all that smoking. Also, in the book, she was expelled from that school for drinking ink, which also explains a lot. Anyway, Cruella sweeps around demanding to see Perdita’s puppies but of course they haven’t been born yet. The only time she ever dials back the flamboyance is when she’s zeroing in on how pretty the dogs’ coats are. So you know something ain’t right. The dogs growl and snarl at her throughout the scene while Roger, back in the attic, plays his new song increasingly loudly on a variety of instruments. Finally, to everyone’s relief, she says “Cheerio, daaaahhhhling!” and leaves.

Well, she’s gone. Roger comes out of hiding, strutting in mockery of Cruella with a sweater as a fur coat and a pencil as a cigarette holder, while Anita warms up to his charming antics. Pongo goes to check on his wife, who’s hiding under the stove out of fear. She wishes she wasn’t pregnant so that “devil woman” can’t steal her babies. It’s like two lines but it sets up our characters so well. We’re afraid and sympathetic towards our hero and horrified by our villain. Okay, it’s not hard to peg Cruella as an awful person, but seeing the dogs’ healthy fear of her instills fear in us, too.

Of course, no one can stop the force of nature, so Perdita’s puppies come right on schedule one stormy night. In keeping with the tradition of the ’60’s, the men are prohibited from entering the delivery room. They’re left to wallow in their anxiety outside until Nanny races out to announce the good news. There’s eight puppies! No, nine! No, ten! They just keep coming! In the end, there’s a whopping fifteen puppies, which is already a massive litter for a Dalmatian. With a litter that big, there’s bound to be complications. Sure enough, Nanny comes out with sad news and a very still little bundle in her arms. There’s only fourteen. Roger consoles Pongo. And then he gets an idea. Vigorously rubbing the stillborn puppy gets a little pink puppy schnose to wiggle out of the blanket. There’s still fifteen!

But he’s not the only one thrilled. Cruella De Vil appears out of absolutely nowhere in a clap of thunder. Seriously, who leaves their back door open during a thunderstorm? She saunters in, ready to claim the puppies until she notices that they don’t have spots and therefore must be drowned. Obviously. She changes her tune right back to buying them and asking about pricing the second Anita tells her how Dalmatian coats work. Anita’s still far too nice in her denial, even after Cruella rudely but rightly reminds her that 17 dogs is going to be crazy expensive for a starving artist

Roger, however, has no such compunctions about telling Cruella to screw off. He’s clearly terrified of her, but he stands up to her. The puppies are theirs, and she’s not touching a hair on their adorable little heads. Cruella loses her mind and storms out, slamming the door behind her hard enough to smash the glass. And she’s gone! Roger’s saved them all! The puppies are saved! Peace is restored! Movie over! … Yeah no, it’s only been twenty minutes. The families might be relieved, but there’s no time to get complacent.

Sometime later, the puppies have grown up a little bit. The whole family’s gathered around the TV, watching a parody of Westerns that made me twitch a little bit. Too many Westerns. Toooo many. This one, Thunderbolt,features the titular German Shepard chasing down an evil cowboy named Dirty Dawson. It’s weirdly geared towards the dogs, but then again, Lassie and Rin Tin Tin were really popular at this point so I don’t know man. The dogs are still engrossed, though, to the shock of their mother who isn’t pleased with their language. Side note, you can really see the pencil lines in this scene, especially on the pups’ faces. I kinda like it. Rolly, also known as my spirit animal, whines that he’s hungry, but it’s not dinner time silly baby (this is cute when it’s dogs. Not people). It’s bed time. The grown-ups have to take their pets for a walk.

As Pongo and Perdita lead Roger and Anita out to the park, they pass by a sketchy van. Horace and Jasoer, the two most British crooks ever, note that no one’s home but Nanny. It’s heist time! They knock on the door all polite-like, pretending to be from the gas electric company. Nanny isn’t fooled by their terrible disguise for a second, not even when Jasper pulls out some rather impressive legal technobabble. And for an old lady, she puts up quite a fight when they force their way in! Unfortunately, Jasper tricks her into the attic while Horace does the dirty work. By the time he lets her out (ducking a teacup because this lady is fiery), the work is done. She grumps down, just sure they took their valuables. But no. They did worse. The puppies are gone! THE PUPPIES! Screaming, she races out into the street screaming for the police.

The humans’ reaction to the puppies is another really clever narrative moment. Somehow, kidnapped dogs makes the front page news, but it’s not quite a newspaper montage. Instead, a soft, almost sweet voice tells us the terrible news. Or, at least, we think she’s sweet. Then she drops the daaaaaahhhhhlllliiiiiiiing, and rancid green smoke curls over the picture of the grieving family. Yep, Cruella’s laughing over the successful crime! Her awesome devil phone rings: it’s Horace and Jasper, having the nerve to ask for their money early. Once she screams that they’re idiots, she slams the phone down and calls Anita with her… um… condolences. Roger suspects her immediately and even demands a confession from her, but somehow, incredibly, Anita still trusts her. Apparently the police did question her and found nothing because the police are weirdly incompetent when it comes to rich people. Crazy.

The humans are at a loss, so the dogs have to take matters into their own paws. Tonight’s walk gives them the perfect opportunity to use the Twilight Bark to call for help. And I’ve got to say, a “gossip chain” somehow morphing into a way to send news quickly makes me laugh really hard. It’s a joke that actually gets better with age because, of course, that literally describes social media. Anyway, none of the humans understand why all the dogs in London, including the entire cast of Lady and the Tramp and some of the very same missing puppies because hi recycled animation, are suddenly barking at the same time. But bark they do, and the news makes it all the way out into the countryside.

I’m going to skip over a good chunk of the Twilight Bark scene because it’s like seven minutes long and introduces a lot of extraneous characters. The relevant ones are Captain, Colonel, and Sergeant Tibbs, a trio of barnyard animals way out in Suffolk. I assume this is far from London. I am not British. Anyway, they are, respectively, a horse voiced by the legendary Thurl Ravenscroft, a blustering old sheepdog voiced by J. Pat O’Malley doing the exact same voice as his Walrus, and a neurotic and overworked cat voiced by David Frankham aka Frank Goodman from Ten Who Dared. Though he won’t admit it, Colonel has a little trouble deciphering the garbled message, but Tibbs is here to translate. It’s not 15 spotted puddles at all, but puppies! Poor puppies! Luckily, the trio just happens to have heard puppies at the nearby and totally not suspicious abandoned house nearby, inconspicuously named Hell Hall.

Like any good superior, the Colonel sends Sergeant Tibbs in to do the dirty work. The cat carefully creeps into the house through an open window. It doesn’t take him long at all to find puppies. Lots of puppies. Wall to wall puppies. Way more than fifteen puppies. But they’re all legally purchased from pet stores (this is why you adopt)… except for the small group of TV addicts. And there just so happens to be fifteen! But before Tibbs can come to their rescue, he has to make it past Horace and Jasper, lounging and drinking and watching old Silly Symphonies. And being British. Suddenly, Jasper seizes Tibbs’ neck thinking its his bottle. The resulting cat screech sends the puppies into a frenzy of barking and the crooks into a frenzy of slapstick, and Tibbs is forced to retreat through the wall.

Back at Regents’ Park, Pongo and Perdita finally hear back from the Twilight Bark. They found the puppies! And, shockingly, it was definitely Cruella who did it! Pongo and Perdita sneak out the back door that Roger and Anita inexplicably leave open despite having just been robbed. They’re off to save their puppies, no matter what the danger. And there is danger. These poor dogs, with no fur to keep them warm, slog through a blizzard and a frozen (but beautifully animated) river. The lengths these parents will do to save their babies are so heartwarming and probably one of my favorite elements of this story. It’s not common to see what happens after our lead characters become parents (bad sequels aside), and it’s wonderful to see that deep love here.

Meanwhile, the Colonel and Sergeant Tibbs spot a long red car swerving wildly over the ice, speeding towards Hell Hall. Cruella storms into the house, raving that the police are hot on their tails. The puppies have to die tonight, by any means necessary, if she wants her coat. And she really wants that coat. Oh, by the way, the puppies are listening to her list the ways they’ll die horribly. So that’s horrifying. Horace and Jasper agree to do it… later, after they finish their favorite TV show. And honestly, mood. The TV show in question is a delightful parody of the then-popular What’s My Line?, on which Walt Disney actually made an appearance. One of the judges on the panel in the fictional game show is actually played by the same actress as Cruella, which is a fun little touch.

The crooks’ laziness gives Tibbs just the opening he needs. He ushers the line of puppies out through the hole in the wall. The last puppy squeezes in just as the show comes to an end. Unfortunately, that last puppy is Rolly, who’s just too fat to fit. Tibbs fights to squeeze the poor fat baby’s bulk through the whole while Horace and Jasper bicker over who’s going to beat their heads in and who’s going to skin them. Frantic, Tibbs finally body checks Rolly hard enough to launch him through the wall. It doesn’t take long for the two dumb thugs to realize that the puppies are gone, so they race out into the entrance way. Jasper plays sweet, calling the puppies to him, until Horace opens his big mouth. Somehow, they manage to miss the hoard of puppies hiding under the stairs, but how long can that last?

Pongo and Perdita can’t find their way in all the swirling snow. Lucky for them, the Colonel hears them barking for help and tells them where to go. Before the big blundering sheepdog can find purchase on the ice, the sleek, speedy Dalmatians race off. They arrive at Hell Hall and crash through a window, and not a moment too soon. Tibbs is trying his best to shield the puppies with his little cat body but Jasper and Horace have them cornered. And guys. Pongo and Perdita are scary in this scene. Sure, being a Disney movie, the fight is done in such a way that the thugs mostly damage themselves by bumbling around, but you can still tell quite clearly that you do not mess with their kids. It’s accurate, too. I grew up with Rottweilers who shared that dog tendency to bark at percieved intruders outside, and let me tell you, the Dalmatian is scarier.

Mom and Dad keep the bad guys on the run long enough for the puppies to stream out the broken window. Once they recover, Horace and Jasper take to their truck in an effort to recover their employers’ evil plans. But the puppies are long gone, safe in the Colonel’s barn for a happy reunion with their parents. I might have teared up a little at this point. You can’t prove anything. This is also where the parents realize that they might have gotten a little more than they bargained for, because this is way more than 15 (“twice that many!”). Pongo is the real MVP, though, and decides that he’s not going to leave any of these puppies to become coats. Bless your face, Pongo.

The Badun’s van pulls up outside the barn. The Colonel is already for a fight but thePongo and Perdita thank the Colonel for all his help, which he happily takes credit for to the quiet frustration of the poor, long-suffering cat. Poor Tibbs. We all saw you do all the work. There’s no time to nitpick, though. Horace and Jasper break the barn door down, so Colonel gets ready to throw down. Pongo and Perdita take the opportunity to sneak the kids out the back while the barnyard trio holds the crooks off. Tibbs’ last moment of awesome involves aiming Captain’s kicking hooves at the thugs like a cannon. It’s glorious.

After being thoroughly beat down by animals… again, Horace and Jasper return to their van to continue the search. The dogs tremble under a bridge, and Rolly slides out on the ice right into the path of their pursuers. Even worse, Cruella herself has now joined the chase! Fortunately, she’s driving too fast to notice the fat little puppy out in the open, so we’re fine. She pulls over to yell at her thugs for failing to get her her coat. They’ve had just about enough of this and are ready to give up but she’s past the point of reason. And she has a whole lot of nerve telling them off for their driving, but I guess that’s the joke.

Once they get the all-clear from Pongo, the puppies forge ahead. And guys. Watching these puppies struggle through the howling blizzard is the saddest thing ever. It got more tears from me. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me right now. I just… they look so sad! And poor Lucky, the runt of the litter, the one who almost died at birth, has it worst of all. He just can’t go on, so Pongo has to pick him up and carry him onwards. Sidenote, I quote his little “my tail is froze and my ears are froze…” bit whenever the temperature drops below like 70F. Floridians. Whatcha gonna do.

Just in time, a savior emerges from the swirling snow in the form of a Collie. Turns out he’s been trying to get their attention for hours but keeps getting drowned out by the wind. He’s got a nice warm barn for them to spend the night in safety. The puppies slowly, painfully force themselves to turn towards the barn. Honestly, it’s the music that makes this so effective. The snow is underscored by bleak, hopeless music that trudges along, step by step, just like the puppies’ poor little paws. Then they make it to the warmth and light of the barn and the same melody turns bright and triumphant as we’re finally allowed some relief. I have a lot of feelings about dogs, guys.

Rolly moans that he’s hungry and for once, it’s not played for laughs. They’re all starving. Perdita is at a loss, but luckily, this just happens to be a dairy farm. The four friendly dairy cows are happy to let the puppies drink their fill. This scene was actually pretty controversial, because the censors didn’t think it was appropriate for a kids’ movie to show cows’ udders being shown for what they’re made for. To which I reply, guys, grow up. That’s still such a stupid debate. Anyway, the puppies drink their fill and settle back for a well-deserved rest. The collie brings the parents some scraps from his pets’ table and offers to stand watch. It’s so heartwarming to hear the barn animals supporting the Dalmatians and offering their sympathy, especially after watching their struggles earlier.

Morning comes, and the doggos continue on their way. They escape Cruella’s car by inches, so narrowly that she’s able to spot their tracks in the snow. She points the tracks out to her goons and they all speed up to the nearest town. But there’s hope for our little spotted friends. A black Labrador bounds up to the family with good news: his pet’s van is in the shop in that very village. And he’s heading to London! Just as they make it to the truck, Cruella passes by, forcing the dogs to hide in the garage.

Driven by the stress that’s starting to get to them all, Patch and Lucky march up to their mother all covered in soot. It seems somebody shoved somebody else into the fireplace. What kind of garage has a fireplace, even in the ‘60s? Perdita is in no mental state to deal with this, but their bickering gives Pongo a great idea. They’ll all disguise themselves as black Labs! Who would ever suspect 101 dogs of a completely different breed? Well, Horace, apparently, but Jasper shuts the idea of dogs disguising themselves down flat.

Thrilled with their victory, the blackened dogs file out right in front of Cruella’s car. She peers at them but is somehow fooled by the soot. Almost. Snow melts from the rooftops, turning some of the puppies black with white soot in a delightful visual gag. We’re not laughing long, though. Cruella catches onto the puppies’ unbelievable trick and screams at her goons to get out here and give chase. The Dalmatians narrowly manage to get the last few puppies on the truck and the chase is on!

This woman really, really, really wants this coat, to the point where she starts ramming this innocent guy’s car. He is understandably confused and angry that this chick keeps trying to knock him off the road. I feel like I should be offended by the “crazy woman driver” line but she is indeed crazy and a woman and a driver. And crazy. Feel like that needs to be said twice. Because those crazy eyes are impressive. She plows into a weirdly animated snowbank that’s poorly Rotoscoped on a pile of sand (more on that later), then floors it until she can jam her fender onto the back of the truck. All the while, pieces of her car fly all over the place and her eyes get crazier and crazier.

Jasper and Horace slam into her from behind, dislodging her and putting the nail in the coffin of what’s left of the car. Cruella screams and sobs as the truck takes the puppies off to safety, surrounded by the wreckage of her car and her dream of a dogskin coat. As for the thugs? Yeah, they’re officially done with her nonsense. And that’s the last we hear of the bad guys! It’s kind of a weak ending for such standout villains, especially when you have the setup for the classic fall off a cliff right there with the cars skidding and sliding around an icy overpass. At least have them arrested or something. On the other hand, it kinda makes them scarier because they’re real. People this despicable exist a lot closer to us than evil fairies or child-hating pirates and often go unpunished. It’s still weird that nothing happens to her, though.

Christmas has come at home, but there’s a distinct lack of cheer in the Radcliffe home. Sure, Roger has somehow managed to sell his slanderous song and make a whole bunch of money, but their dogs are all gone! Even Nanny is in tears as she serves their Christmas tea. And you know? I get it. I’d be this upset if Luna ran away, too. Poor guys. And Nanny feels responsible, too, because she was the one who failed to stop the crooks! She’s so guilty she can still hear their voices. But wait— that is barking! At first, the family is confused by the sudden appearance of all these black dogs, but Nanny dusts them off and finds that all seventeen of their dogs are here! And there’s more! Lots more! Roger quickly counts and realizes that they now have way too many dogs. But he takes it really well. They’ll just take the money and move to a bigger house! And that’s our movie!

I always seem to rate animated films higher than live action (Peter Pan notwithstanding), and this one’s no exception. The writers just seem to enjoy themselves so much more with these, when they’re not restricted to the realm of what’s possible with live actors. There’s so much witty writing and clever, funny visual gags in this film that aren’t exactly cerebral, but still manage to elevate this movie above a “kid’s” movie. The characters are delightful from A-Z, and the plot is exciting in all the right places. Sure, there are some moments that are pretty padded, but even that doesn’t make the movie feel slow or overlong. Rather, it makes the action sequences pop more and the emotional moments hit harder. Also, puppies. So many puppies.

CHARACTERS

The puppies all kind of serve as a conglomerate character. Usually, this is a function of lazy writing, but it’s physically impossible to have a cast that large and flesh all of them out. So I get it. I think they made the right call, picking a small handful to serve as the spokesdogs for the hoarde. Patch, Lucky, Freckles, Penny, Rolly, and Pepper are all we really need to feel the tension of these poor babies’ plight… oh, yeah, and I guess there’s also the fact that we don’t want this crazy woman to murder puppies. There’s that, too.

I really should be offended by Rolly’s constant whining that he’s hungry and the use of “fat” as a personality trait synonymous with “screw-up”, but I’m not. He’s just a mood. It’s amazing what they can get away with by hiding it behind adorable puppies. Weirdly for such small roles, there are some moderately big names voicing the puppies, including Barbara Luddy (Lady and Merryweather) and Mary Wickes (Laverne in The Hunchback of Notre Dame).

Pongo might be my favorite animated male lead we’ve had so far. He’s smooth, suave, and witty while remaining charming. And he’s such a good dad! I mean, this guy will do anything for his kids and it is so sweet to watch. “No dog’s better than dad” indeed! He’s the idea guy, coming up with brilliant plans to set his human up with the perfect mate and several plans to get rid of Cruella. More than his function as a protagonist, he’s such a realistic dog! He’s playful and a little goofy and perfectly embodies the Dalmatian’s boundless energy. His smooth, deep voice is provided by Rod Taylor, also famous for Hitchcock’s The Birds and Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds.

Perdita isn’t fleshed out very much, which is odd because she’s an amalgamation of two separate book characters so you’d think that’d be enough personality to go around. She’s very sweet and low-key, a perfect contrast to Pongo’s energy and playfulness, though this might have something to do with the fact that she just gave birth. The two complement each other beautifully, and I think that’s why they work so well as a couple. She actually has two different voice actresses, although they do sound similar enough that it’s nearly impossible to tell. Lisa Daniels did about a third of the lines before marrying, moving away, and being replaced by Cate Bauer.

Roger Radcliffe is Pongo’s human pet, a meek and mild songwriter. Even so, he manages some really great moments where he finds a spine of steel under all the social awkwardness. He has absolutely zero patience for Cruella’s nonsense and no compunctions about showing it, even though he finds her intimidating. Oh, and this guy loves his doggos. That’s always a plus. I know a lot of girls who call him the most perfect Disney guy, and while I don’t entirely agree, I can definitely see the appeal. He’s adorkable. He’s voiced by Ben Wright. Remember that name, we’ll hear it again on this blog in one of my favorite anecdotes to come out of WDAS!

Anita Radcliffe, Roger’s wife, is the quintessential British woman. She’s prim, proper, and sweet, perfectly embodying the “stiff upper lip” Londoners are famous for. Unfortunately, she’s either a total doormat, a complete idiot, or both. Those are the only two reasons why she would put up with Cruella’s nonsense and not suspect her for stealing the puppies after she openly threatened them for not selling them to her. Come on, girl. Still, it’s hard not to like her. She’s just such a calming presence. She’s voiced by Lisa Davis, who originally auditioned for Cruella before deciding that she’d do better as Anita. I quite agree, I can’t imagine this soft voice coming out of the bombastic Cruella!

Horace and Jasper are your stereotypical Laurel and Hardy-esque short/tall smart/dumb duo of crooks. Jasper, the tall one, is surprisingly clever at thinking on his feet but Horace, the short one, blows his lies to pieces by stating the obvious. Mostly, they’re there for slapstick comic relief as the dogs fool them into all kinds of physical comedy. Lucky for the puppies, they’re also extremely lazy when it comes to their evil-doings. Horace is voiced by Frederick Worlock, who had quite an extensive filmography on IMDB including Spartacus. Jasper, on the other hand, is an old friend: J. Pat O’Malley, who we haven’t seen since Alice in Wonderland! He also voices the Colonel, as I previously mentioned. It’s hard to believe he’s actually British, because his accent is deliberately, hilariously awful.

And now, the one, the only….

CRUELLA. DE. VIL. Man, where do I even start with Cruella? She’s delightful. She’s this big, flamboyant caricature of a woman who could never exist outside of an animated feature, and yet she works so well for this otherwise grounded picture. She’s like a failed starlet who never quite realized she failed… though the whole “chain smoking toxic waste” thing might be a coping mechanism or something I don’t know. She’s also one of the most despicable villains in the Disney canon. Maleficent tries to murder a baby for no reason? Cool. Dr. Facilier tries to enslave the souls of New Orleans? Whatever. This woman tries to skin a bunch of puppies? Oh, it is on. And yet, she’s just such a blast to watch on screen that it’s hard to actually hate her.

Betty Lou Gerson (the narrator from Cinderella!) is clearly having the time of her life voicing her in the biggest, fakest English accent she can possibly layer over her natural Southern one. As far as animation goes, she marks the final animated character drawn by my idol, the legendary Marc Davis, before he moved on to focus on the theme parks. And what a swan song! Her design is sheer brilliance, from her skeletal, almost demonic (ayyyy!) frame to the enormous fur coat she uses to give herself more presence, to great effect. Maleficent might be my favorite villain from Walt’s era, but Cruella’s just pure fun. Davis became known in theme park circles for the macabre sense of humor that gave us the Hitchhiking Ghosts of the Haunted Mansion, the infamous and controversial auction from Pirates of the Caribbean, and the drunk, morbid Big Al of the Country Bear Jamboree. That dark humor is on full display here and I am living for it.

MUSIC

This is the point in Disney history where jazz really starts creeping into the soundtracks, and I am living for it. We’ll see a lot in the coming films that I absolutely love jazz music and it can easily warm me up to a soundtrack, even for films I don’t love as much as Dalmatians. George Bruns, the guy who’s done all those really “jingle-y” songs for Davy Crockett and stuff, departed from his usual style to make something much more contemporary. This is my favorite soundtrack of his so far!

Not only is the music fun and perky, but it suits the action to the T. The overture brings to mind the movement of a Dalmatian’s feet as they prance over the ground (I’m not sure how to describe it, but large short-haired dogs have a very distinctive way of walking). The Colonel and Sgt Tibbs are introduced with a pompous march that perfectly describes the characters before they say a word. And the march through the snow! I’ve already talked a bit about this, but the way the melody changes to reflect the puppies’ salvation in the barn is masterfully done.

As far as songs go, there are an oddly small number here, especially considering Roger is a songwriter. I think that actually works to its benefit by allowing the tension to continue unbroken, but that’s just my opinion. Originally, the Sherman brothers were going to make their film debut here with a title song called One Hundred and One, but their work ended up on the cutting room floor. I think it’s for the better, as I don’t think their style really works with the jazz-inspired score. Mel Leven was brought on instead, and several of his songs also got the axe, including a Cockney chant for Horace and Jasper called Don’t Buy a Parrot from a Sailor (not entirely sure where this would have gone) and March of the One Hundred and One, made as the dogs make their escape from Cruella in the truck. As it stands, there’s only three songs, which, as I said, even as someone who do prefers musicals, I think works.

Cruella de Vil is by far the best known and generally the best song in this film. Leven is having the time of his life with the wordplay and the catchy melody. Roger playing the instrumental break over the meeting between Cruella and Anita is one of the comedic highlights of the film, especially when he breaks out the trombone above in an effort to be as obnoxious as possible. There’s a reason this stands out as one of the great villain songs despite not being sung by the villain herself. I really have to repeat that I’m fairly certain this counts as defamation of character, though, and I’m not sure how it’s legal for Roger to sell it for the radio. Maybe she was disgraced after the whole “attempting to murder puppies” thing and now everyone agrees that she really is that terrible? I don’t know. He writes it before she even does anything! Deleted versions are even worse, which I find hilarious.

Kanine Krunchies is the commercial jingle that plays while the puppies are watching TV. It’s a parody of the annoying, repetetive, infantile commercials that were popular at the time of the film’s release, a joke that’s still funny almost 60 years later! The childish-singsong voice is provided by Lucille Bliss, who we might remember as Anastasia from Cinderella!

Dalmatian Plantation has the potential to be just as memorable as Cruella de Vil, filled with wordplay and delightful forced rhymes. It’s a shame it’s interrupted about two lines in by the end of the film. Seriously, Roger writes it to express his excitement at having his dogs back (and then some)- can’t you let us feel that happiness, too? I guess they ran out of things that rhyme with Dalmatian.

ARTISTRY

It’s time to finally talk about Xerography! You see, the lush backgrounds of Sleeping Beauty had put the studio in dire straits. Once again, there was talk about ending animation at the studio. They didn’t want to do that, because we built this city on animation. It fits, then, that the guy who created the mouse that started it all would come in to save the day. Ub Iwerks had a long history of technical innovation at the studio. He invented the legendary multiplane camera and the processes that allowed cartoon characters to coexist on the same screen as live action actors.

This time, he took inspiration from a copy machine in the office. If a machine can copy black lines from paper to paper, it stood to reason that some modifications could allow it to copy lines from paper to an animation cel. So they tried it, and it worked! The time consuming, expensive process of hand inking cels was no longer necessary, the entire inking staff was let go (which is unfortunate), and the task of drawing one hundred and one spotted dogs became much less daunting. The revolutionary new process did come with its drawbacks: in these early days, the cels came out with a thick, rough black outline and often showed the artists’ pencil marks. You can often see guide lines on the puppies’ faces, and you can definitely see sketch marks on Cruella’s coat.

One person was less than thrilled with this result. Walt hated the look of this film. Hated it. Poor Ken Anderson came up with the brilliant idea of overlaying sketchy outlines over the hand-painted backgrounds so the world matched up with the characters. Walt blamed him for removing the fantasy element from his films and banned him from ever directing another film’s artwork. And this poor guy took it to heart and blamed himself, talking down his own work and feeling like he disappointed his boss. I feel so bad for him. But there is a happy ending: just before Walt passed, he visited Anderson at the studio to let him know that all was forgiven.

For my part, I like the rougher outline look. In this movie. Sure, it doesn’t have the polish of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, but everything about this movie is loose, relaxed, and carefree, just like the decade that inspired it. A sketchy look fits a modern, relaxed story with a loose, swinging soundtrack. It works very nicely indeed… in this movie. Later on, and not even much later on, the black outline will become a huge distraction and a detriment to some otherwise fine films. But we will get there. Oh, we will get there.

One other note I’d like to make about artistry is the vehicles. Remember back in Pinocchio, where they built real models of the cuckoo clocks and Stromboli’s wagon to make sure they moved accurately? Well, they did that here, too! Sort of. They built scale models of Cruella’s car, Horace and Jasper’s van, and the moving truck out of white cardboard with black lines painted on as a reference. They then shot the vehicles moving, even bashing Cruella’s car into a pile of sand (which is why the snow looks so funky in that shot), then painted right over the footage. The resulting animation looks so smooth and fluid that it almost resembles modern CGI!

THEME PARK INFLUENCE

Over at Disney’s All Star Movies Resort in Orlando, two of the buildings are themed after One Hundred and One Dalmatians. An oversized Pongo statue stands guard over one building, facing the opposite building’s Perdita. Ninety-nine puppies romp and play over the railings while Cruella’s and the Baduns’ cars lurk in wait at the top. Right in the middle is a photo opportunity of Lucky watching an empty TV screen where you can be the star of the show! It’s adorable, and easily my favorite section of the resort.

Beyond that, though, there’s not a whole lot. There’s a display in the Days of Christmas store in Disney Springs of different Disney things representing each of the Twelve Days of Christmas, including “eleven puppies panting”. But most of all, there is Cruella. Any time you have a gathering of villains, like Fantasmic! or the Hocus Pocus Villain Spelltacular, she’s probably there, standing along the likes of Maleficent and the Evil Queen. Not bad for a lady with no magical powers! All she needs is a whole lot of personality and a hatred of dogs, and she’s got that in spades. By the way, if you ever get a chance to do a meet and greet with her, do it. She’s out all the time at Disneyland and at Halloween at Magic Kingdom, and she is hysterical.

FINAL THOUGHTS

101 Dalmatians marks the end of one era and the beginning of a new one. However, that’s not a bad thing! I like this contemporary, modern style when it’s matched to a contemporary, modern story. Some might call it unfocused, but I think the episodic nature works for the feel of the movie. The characters are what really bring this one to life- they’re all such strong personalities that it’s hard not to fall in love with at least one of them. The jokes, on the whole, are more witty than slapstick, making it a very good film for someone like me who prefers subtlety on the whole. It’s not the fantasy that we’re used to seeing from Disney, but it’s something unique, and it’s pretty refreshing after a whole decade full of the same movie over and over again.

Favorite scene: Cruella making her grand entrance, flailing her coat around and making everyone around her uncomfortable while Anita tries her best to be nice. Comedy gold.

Final rating: 8/10. Just a lighthearted, fun time all around. And it reminds me of someone with a very special spot in my heart.

…. LOOKIT MY DOG.