title : Different cultural factors contributing to the worldwide rise of diabetes. req: As a team, write a 6-8 page, double spaced paper with size 12 font, 1 inch margins. Include team member names on the paper. Please see attached rubric for paper requirements. The paper should be written cohesively (i.e. does not give the impression it was written by several people). All team members must clearly contribute to both the presentation and paper in order to receive full credit. Note: All papers are due on April 2, regardless of scheduled presentation date. Only one person from each group needs to upload the paper as a .doc, .docx, or .pdf to Canvas for grading. e,cided on this term, fol- and Chase. The State of lst annual FIAF confer_ 5. Speaking about shots he said: ,,Such cases are t: pT" spectacle.,, [Do_ rn 5lapstick Comedy,,, rgbl) 52_53.1 lstance penley and An_ na L? ry87) 42. rften combined multi_ tied by songs that the lsp,ectacle. rirrer and Donald G. T h e C i n e m a o f A t t r a c t i o n [ s ] : E a r l y F i l m , I t s S p e c t a t o r a n d t h e A v a n t - G a r d e Tom Gunning Writing in r9zz, flushed with the excitement of seeing Abel Gance's Le RouE, Femand L6ger tried to define something of the radical possibilities of the cin- ema. The potential of the new art did not lie in "imitating the movements of nature" or in "the mistaken path" of its resemblance to theater. Its unique power was a "matter of making images seen."' It is precisely this hamessing of visibility, this act of showing and exhibition, which I feel cinema before 19o6 displays most intensely. [Its] inspiration for the avant-garde of the early decades of this century needs to be re-explored. Writings by the early modemists (Futurists, Dadaists and Surrealists) on the cinema follow a pattem similar to Ldger: enthusiasm for this new medium and its possibilities; and disappointment at the way it has already developed, its enslavement to traditional art forms, particularly theater and literature. This fascination with the potential of a medium (and the accompanying fantasy of rescuing the cinema from its enslavement to alien and pass6 forms) can be un- derstood from a number of viewpoints. I want to use it to illuminate a topic I have [also] approached before [...], the strangely heterogeneous relation that film before t9o6 (or so) bears to the films that follow, and the way a taking account of this heterogeneity signals a new conception of film history and film form. My work in this area has been pursued in collaboration with Andr6 Gau- dreault.' The history of early cinema, like the history of cinema generally, has been written and theorized under the hegemony of narrative films. Early filmmakers like Smith, M6lids and Porter have been studied primarily from the viewpoint of their contribution to film as a storytelling medium, particularly the evolution of narrative editing. Although such approaches are not to ...

1. title : Different cultural factors contributing to the worldwide
rise of diabetes.
req: As a team, write a 6-8 page, double spaced paper with size
12 font, 1 inch
margins. Include team member names on the paper. Please see
attached rubric for
paper requirements. The paper should be written cohesively (i.e.
does not give the
impression it was written by several people). All team members
must clearly
contribute to both the presentation and paper in order to receive
full credit. Note: All
papers are due on April 2, regardless of scheduled presentation
date. Only one
person from each group needs to upload the paper as a .doc,
.docx, or .pdf to
Canvas for grading.

2. e,cided on this term, fol-
and Chase. The State of
lst annual FIAF confer_
5. Speaking about shots
he said: ,,Such cases are
t: pT" spectacle.,, [Do_
rn 5lapstick Comedy,,,
rgbl) 52_53.1
lstance penley and An_
na L? ry87) 42.
rften combined multi_
tied by songs that the
lsp,ectacle.
rirrer and Donald G.
T h e C i n e m a o f A t t r a c t i o n [ s ] : E a r l y F i l m ,
I t s S p e c t a t o r a n d t h e A v a n t - G a r d e
Tom Gunning
Writing in r9zz, flushed with the excitement of seeing Abel
Gance's Le RouE,
Femand L6ger tried to define something of the radical
possibilities of the cin-
ema. The potential of the new art did not lie in "imitating the
movements of
nature" or in "the mistaken path" of its resemblance to theater.

3. Its unique
power was a "matter of making images seen."' It is precisely
this hamessing of
visibility, this act of showing and exhibition, which I feel
cinema before 19o6
displays most intensely. [Its] inspiration for the avant-garde of
the early decades
of this century needs to be re-explored.
Writings by the early modemists (Futurists, Dadaists and
Surrealists) on the
cinema follow a pattem similar to Ldger: enthusiasm for this
new medium and
its possibilities; and disappointment at the way it has already
developed, its
enslavement to traditional art forms, particularly theater and
literature. This
fascination with the potential of a medium (and the
accompanying fantasy of
rescuing the cinema from its enslavement to alien and pass6
forms) can be un-
derstood from a number of viewpoints. I want to use it to
illuminate a topic I
have [also] approached before [...], the strangely heterogeneous
relation that
film before t9o6 (or so) bears to the films that follow, and the
way a taking
account of this heterogeneity signals a new conception of film
history and film
form. My work in this area has been pursued in collaboration
with Andr6 Gau-
dreault.'
The history of early cinema, like the history of cinema
generally, has been
written and theorized under the hegemony of narrative films.

4. Early filmmakers
like Smith, M6lids and Porter have been studied primarily from
the viewpoint of
their contribution to film as a storytelling medium, particularly
the evolution of
narrative editing. Although such approaches are not totally
misguided, they are
one-sided and potentially distort both the work of these
filmmakers and the
actual forces shaping cinema before ryo6. A few observations
will indicate the
way that early cinema was not dominated by the narrative
impulse that later
asserted its sway over the medium. First there is the extremely
important role
that actuality film plays in early film production. Investigation
of the films
copyrighted in the US shows that actuality films oukrumbered
fictional films
until 19o6.3 The Lumidre tradition of "placing the world within
one's reach"
3 8 2 The Cinema of Attractions Reloaded
through travel films and topicals did not disappear with the exit
of the Cirre:;.
tographe from film production.
But even within non-acfuality filming - what has sometimes
been referrec :i*
as the "M6lids tradition" - the role narrative plays is quite
different than in :p
ditional narrative film. Mdlias himserf declared in discussing
his working m€T_

5. o o :
As for the scenario, the "fable," or "tale," I only consider it at
the end. I can staie -:;::
the scenario constructed in this manner has no importance, since
I use it merel.- :-. ,
pretext for the "stage effects," the "tricks," or for a nicely
arranged tabreau.a
rvhatever differences one might find between Lumiirre and
Mdlies, they sh:- ;
not represent the opposition between narrative and non-
narrative filmmak::,
at least as it is understood today. Rather, one can unite them in
a conception -rdl
sees cinema less as a way of telling stories than as a way of
presenting a series :r
views to an audience, fascinating because of their
illusoryrpower (whether ::*e
realistic illusion of motion offered to the first audiences by
Lumiere, or the r..r*
gical illusion concocted by M6lids), and exoficism. In other
words, I belier.e -:.er
the relation to the spectator set up by the films of both Lumidre
and M6lies
"r:many other filmmakers before 19o6) had a common basis,
and one that dl-::ri
from the primary spectator relations set up by narrative film
after 19o6. I -,,,11
call this earlier conception of cinema, "the cinema of
attractions.,, I belier.e r.m"
this conception dominates cinema until about
'9o6-19o7.
Although diiterer.

6. from the fascination in storytelling exploited by the cinema
from the tiaq. :".
Griffith, it is not necessarily opposed to it. In fact the cinema of
attractio:::
does not disappear with the dominance of narrative, but rather
goes ur.i.r-
ground, both into certain avant-garde practices and as a
component of narre:*, *
films, more evident in some genres (e.g., the musical) than
irrothers.
Atrhat precisely is the cinema of attraction[s]? First it is a
cinema that t,:-,ey.
itself on the quality that L6ger celebrated: its ability to show
something. C:,:*
trasted to the voyeuristic aspect of narrative cinema analyzed by
chris:a.r
Metz,s this is an exhibitionist cinema. An aspect of early
cinema which I h:, r
written about in other articles is emblematic of this different
relationshi: .:'r
cinema of attractions constructs with its spectator: the recurring
look at the c.:r"
era by actors. This actiory which is later perceived as spoiling
the realistic : _,,:.."
sion of the cinema, is here undertaken with brio, estatrilshing
contact with :*
audience. From comedians smirking at the camera, to the
constant bowins i:r:
gesturing of the conjurors in magic films, this is a cinema that
displays its ir:
lity, willing to rupture a self-enclosed fictional world for a
chance to solicit :,*.
attention of the spectator.

7. Exhibitionism becomes literal in the series of erotic films which
play ar :::,."
portant role in early film production (the same path6 catalogue
would adr.er::a
Film, lts Spectator and the Avant-Garde
of the Cindma-
eerr referred to
Ent than in tra-
n-orking meth-
L tr can state that
re it merely as a
hleau,+
x" ffire1'should
re frJrnmaking,
mreption that
ting a series of
r nr.hether the
hr" or the ma-
; I heiieve that
td {elids (and
rre that differs
er 19o6. I will
'I helieve that
rrefi di-tferent
rr tfu time of
f attraction[s]
r goes under-

8. t of narrative
IS
ma that bases
nddng. Con-
t'v Christian
lr-hich I have
h'anship the
ok at the carn-
r realistic itrlu-
ffict nith the
G b'olrirrg and
[ar-= its r-Lsihi-
: to scrliit the
h p.]- an irn-
ruld adrerfi--e
the Passion Play along with "scdnes grivioses d'un caractdre
piquanf,, erotic
films often including full nudity), also driven underground in
laier years. As
NoEl Burch has shown in his film ConnrcrroN, prEasr on How
wn Gor rNro
Prcrunrs Ggzil, a film like THn Bnrns Rrrrnss (France, rgoz)
reveals a funda-
mental conflict between this exhibitionistic tendency of early
film and the crea-
tion of a fictional diegesis. A woman undresses for bed while
her new husband
peers at her from behind a screen. F{owever, it is to the camera
and the audience
that the bride addresses her erotic striptease, winking at us as
she faces us, smil-
ing in erotic display.

9. As the quote from Mdlids points out, the trick film, perhaps the
dominant
non-actuality film genre before t9o6, is itself a series of
displays, of magical
attractions, rather than a primitive sketch of narrative
continuity. Many trick
films are, in effect, plotless, a series of transformations strung
together with little
connection and certainly no characterization. But to approach
even the plotted
trick films, such as Ls vovacr DANS LA ruNr (r9oz), simply as
precursors of
later narrative structures is to miss the point. The story simply
provides a frame
upon which to string a demonstration of the magical
possibilities of the cinema.
Modes of exhibition in early cinema also reflect this lack of
concem with
creating a self-sufficient narrative world upon the screen. As
Charles Musser
has shown,6 the early showmen exhibitors exerted a greatdeal of
control over
the shows they presented, actually re-editing the films they had
purchased and
supplying a series of offscreen supplements, such as sound
effects and spoken
commentary. Perhaps most extreme is the Hale's Tours, the
largest chain of
theaters exclusively showing films before 19o6. Not only did
the films consist of
non-narrative sequences taken from moving vehicles (usually
trains), but the
theater itself was arranged as a train car with a conductor who
took ticketg and
sound effects simulating the click-clack of wheels and hiss of

10. air brakes.z Such
viewing experiences relate more to the attractions of the
fairground than to the
traditions of the legitimate theater. The relation between films
and the emer_
gence of the great amusement parks, such as Coney Island, at
the fum of the
century provides rich ground for rethinking the roots of early
cinema.
Nor should we ever forget that in the earliest years of exhibition
the cinema
itself was an attraction. Early audiences went to exhibitions to
see machines
demonstrated (the newest technological wonder, following in
the wake of such
widely exhibited machines and marvels as X-rays or, earlier, the
phonograph),
rather than to view films. It was the Cin6matographe, the
Biograph or the vita-
scope that were advertised on the variety bilts in which they
premiered, not [LE
DfpuNrn nu n6nf,] or Trrs Bracx Dravroxn Expnrss. After the
initial novelty
period, this display of the possibilities of cinema continues, and
not only in ma-
gic films. Many of the close-ups in early film differ from later
uses of the techni-
que precisely because they do not use enlargement for narrative
punctuatior;
The Cinema of Attfactions Reloaded
but as an attraction in its own right. The close-up cut into

11. porter,s T,,r Gaysrror Crnnx ogoi may anticipatiater *.",t:il?
,"chniques, but its principalmotive is again pure exhibitio.,ir-,
as the rady rifr her rti'ritr"-, exposing herankle for alr to see.
Biograph films such as pnorocnapHrNc a Fnuarr Cnoox(tgo+)
and HoorrcaN rN Jarr ogo., consist of a singre shot in which the
camerais brought crose to the main
"t,u.u"tur,
until they aL in mid_shot. The enrarge_ment is not a device
expressive of narrative tension; it is in ibelf an attractionand the
point of the film.s
[To summarize, the cinema of attractir
incitinsvisuatcuriosity,andsupplyi"rJ,Hrl'fi itl.::X':'::tff :;::::n1a
unique evenf whether fictionif or do'cumentary thatls of interest
in itself. Theattraction to be displayed may also be of a
cinematic natury-such as the earryclose-ups just described, or
trick films in which a cinematic manipuration (slowmotion'
reverse motion, substirution, murtipre
".p.r;;;t;;;;;", the firm,s no_velty. Fictionar situations tend to be
restricted to gags, vaudevilre numbers orrecreations of shocking
or curious incidents 1"*u.t.rtiorrr, current events). It isthe direct
address of the audience, in which an attraction i" oliur"a to the
spec_tator by a cinema showman, that defines this approach to
filrnmaking. Theatri_cal display dominates over narrative
absorption, emphasizing tt" diru"t stimu_lation of shock or
surprise at the
"*p".,."
of unfording u ,iory or creating adiegetic universe. The cinema
of attractioracterswirhpsvchorogicarmorivations".Hi;fi ;:i;:;[ffi
fl;:?,rur"::";both fictionar and non-fictional attractions, its
energy moves outward an ac_knowledged spectator rather than
inward towards the character_based sifua_tions essential to
classical narrative.]

12. The term "attractions" comes, of co..r"e, from the young sergei
MikhailovichEisenstein and his attempt to find a new moder and
-oiu
or-u.alysis for thetheater' In his search
f:..rn"
"unit of impression" of theatricar art, the founda-tion of an
anarysis which wourd .r.rder*ir," rearistic representational
theater,Eisenstein hit upon the term " attraction.,,e An attraction
aggressivery subjectedthe spectator to "sensual or
psychological- impact." accoraing to Eisensteirytheater shourd
consist of u *tr,tug" or"r.r"r,
"*""tro.,r,-"."",iig a reration tothe spectator entirely different
rrori hi" absorption in ,,inusory [depictionsJ.,,,o Ipick up this
term partly to [underscore] the relati"" to til-:;tator that thislater
avant-gar'de practice shares with early cinema: that of
exhibitionist con_frontation rather than diegetic absorption. of
course the ,,experimentalry regu_lated and mathematically
carculated; montage of attractions demanaed by Ei_senstein
differs enormousry from these eJy fihs (;,
";;-;""scious andoppositional mode of practice will from a
popular one;.;, Ho#u*r, it is impor_tant to rearize the context
from which Eisenstein serected the term. Then, asnow' the
"attrachon" was a term of the fairground, and for Eisenstein and
his
The Cinema of Attraction[s]: Early Film, lts Spectator and the
Avant-Garde
friend Yutkevich it primarily represented their favorite
fairground attraction,

13. the roller coaster, or as it was known then in Russia, the
American Mountains."
The source is significant. The enthusiasm of the early avant-
garde for film
was at least partly an enthusiasm for a mass culture that was
emerging at the
beginning of the century, offering a new sort of stimulus for an
audience not
acculturated to the traditional arts. It is important to take this
enthusiasm for
popular art as something more than a simple gesture of epater
les bourgeois. The
enofinous development of the entertainment industry since the
rgros and its
growing acceptance by middle-class culture (and the
accommodation that
made this acceptance possible) have made it difficult to
understand the libera-
tion popular entertainment offered at the beginning of the
century. I believe that
it was precisely the exhibitionist quality of tum-of-the-century
popular art that
made it attractive to the avant-garde - its freedom from the
creation of a dieg-

14. esis, its accent on direct stimulation.
Writing of the variety theater, Marinetti not only praised its
aesthetics of as-
tonishment and stimulatioo but particularly its creation of a new
spectator who
contrasts with the " static," "stupid voyeur" of traditional
theater. The spectator
at the variety theater feels directly addressed by the spectacle
and joins in, sing-
ing along, heckling the comedians.'3 Dealing with early cinema
within the con-
text of archive and academy, we risk missing its vital relation to
vaudeville, its
primary place of exhibition until around r9o5. Film appeared as
one attraction
on the vaudeville program, surrounded by a mass of unrelated
acts in a non-
narrative and even nearly illogical succession of performances.
Even when pre-
sented in the nickelodeons that were emerging at the end of this
period, these
short films always appeared in a variety format, trick films
sandwiched in with
farces, actualities, "illustrated songs," and, quite frequently,

15. cheap vaudeville
acts. It was precisely this non-narrative variety that placed this
form of enter-
tainment under attack by reform groups in the early 191os. The
Russell Sage
Survey of popular entertainments found vaudeville "depends
upon an artificial
rather than a natural human and developing interest, these acts
having no nec-
essary, and as a rule, no actual connection."'a In other words, no
narrative. A
night at the variety theater was like a ride on a streetcar or an
active day in a
crowded city, according to this middle-class reform group,
stimulating an un-
healthy nervousness. It was precisely such artificial stimulus
that Marinetti and
Eisenstein wished to borrow from the popular arts and inject
into the theater,
organizing popular energy for radical Purpose.
What happened to the cinema of attraction[s]? The period from
r9o7 to about
1913 represents the tnte narratiaization of the cinema,
culminating in the appear-

16. ance of feature films which radically revised the variety format.
Film clearly
took the legitimate theater as its model, producing famous
players in famous
plays. The transformation of filmic discourse that D.W. Griffith
typifies bound
38s
E' Tru Cry
d :::. :rnci,ual
" gr:tr-1s=.E her
s&{*qi Cnoox
[* -:,r. iEIf[efA
iar ::;ac:ol-,
d i r r : - l m - r r
l t i l F < r u - : - : -
il'i:=-:; The
h l* :c ee-ri.-
rourlaLnr:n -.i -rt
r t f k : , : 1 - r : : t , i -
g nur:::le:s :r
i e*,er-:s . ]: s
d fi.: ::*: ::e;-
&ur,g ;":r*::-
r di:ui'y:: s--i::, -
ffi :Li:i-.,a i

17. [m&,fi][:]rjE :iil-
f,djr;ulrre :.:*ci* --ri
fui'@l; tr fl,:-
Fftmse"c sli:;;*
fiMliiitt[lrtilt l.'nttr' *
nlmw* r:rr fc
fi" dfirru* ::rl:urr.1in*'
funi,au. :tnr,r:nn*r
dllf,r ,r.uulmyne'r
b [r.r'lmnrr'grr,
;,iD illlgllrilllilil;YI 1 i
pEfUtnn"rsl " l
ffir 1tr"m: lfnurs
ffiinunrusr:rm'-
6r{rnLlllilrrelguL-
mrdeim urn, iil;-
mffinsrnxullh' iEll]|d
fi, :rlt lp, :mrilmnml-
[M' Tifinus'n, .tilrr.
t&mm ,rltliud rfrllt|ii

18. The Cinema of Attractioni Reloaded
cinematic signifiers to the narration of stories and the creation
of a self-enclosed
diegetic universe. The look at the camera becomes taboo and the
devices of cin_
ema are transformed from playful ,,fricks,, - cinematic
attractions (M6lids ges_
turing at us to watch the lady vanish) - to erements of dramatic
expressiory en_
tries into the psychology of character and the world of fiction.
However, it would be too easy to see this as a cain and Abel
story with nar-
rative strangling the nascent possibilities of a young
iconoclastic form of enter_
tainment. Just as the variety format in some sense survived in
the movie paraces
of the rgzos (with newsreel, cartoory sing-along, orchestra
performance and
sometimes vaudeville acts subordinated to, uut sul coexistinj
with, the narra_
tive feature of the evening), the system of attraction remains an
essential part of
popular filmmaking.
The chase film shows how, towards the end of this period
(basicaily from
r9o3 to t9o6), a synthesis of attractions and narrative was
already ,r.rd"r-uy.
The chase had been the originar truly narrative genre of the
cinema, providing
a model for causality and linearity as well as a basic editing

19. continui$2. A film
like Biograph's psnsoNat (rgo4, the model for the chase fi-lm rn
many ways)
shows the creation of a narrative linearity, as the French
nobleman runs for his
life from the fiancdes his personal corumn ad has unleashed.
However, at the
same time, as the group of young women pursue their prey
towards the camera
in each shot, they encounter some slighi obstacre (a rencg a
steep srope, a
stream) that slows them_ down for the spectator, providing a
mini-spectacle
pause in the unfolding of narrative. The Edison Company sJe*ea
particularly
aware of this, since they offered their pragiarized versiorr of
this Biograph film
(Howa FnrNcn Nonrs*{ar{ Gor a wrir TnnoucH rHE Nnw yonx
Hrnaro psn_
soNAL CoruivrNs) t" ,yg formE as a complete film or as
separate shots, so that
any one image of the ladies chasing the man could be uougit
without the incit_
ing incident or narrative closure.'5
As Laura Mulvey has shown in a very different context, the
dialectic between
spectacle and narrative has fuelled much of the classicar
cinema.,6 por.rura i.J
ton in his study of slapstick comedy, "The pie and the Chase,,,
has shown the
way slapstick did a balancing act between the pure spectacle of
gag and the
development of narrative.'7 Likewise, the ltraaitionar] spectacle
film [...]proved true to its name by highlighting moments of
pure visuar stimulation

20. along with narrative. The r9z4 version of Br* Hun was in fact
shown at a Bos-
ton theater with a timetable announcing the moment of its prime
attractions:
8135 The Star of Bethlehem
8:4o jerusalemRestored
8:59 Fall of the House of Hur
70:29 ThelastSupper
ro:5o Reunionts
cr' . =etrt-enclosed
&r ;er.ices of cin-
M'r--o felies ges-
0c t,:t:lession, en-
eL t::-u" rrith nar-
ffir; :,r:m of enter-
ffie ::ru-"nie palaces
Fjer,lnrnarce and
g ;,*1fi. j:te narra_
m
"s--c:;1al
Dart Of
d la-r;callv lrom
hre=;-, imdenfa-.
im:r: :ror-iding
ctrr::'r--:it','. -{ tilm

21. !D r :lan- I-avsi
gttrE:r :*JL: tor hri-s
. H:"r,:ei-er at tple
mrris -Jue carne'ra
& irS:f :10D€. a
' : - _ - - - - r u - l f : - l p
emre: ::r:;u-lari',-
hs i:':.-a:hr;im
im.s, :-:.r-q-n Fgn-
mfiif ;i],::: Si dlai
wili::q:r*: t1w nc:-
dli",; rr.:: ; ter!',:exfl-l
& ' o l ' ' ] a - o
" a - -t' ia-; ::r:,-il:: 3rE
k ; r : : : i j - J i r c
rorfa:r= --r:-
-
-
l l r u d L : - * : - - r -
S $i:r:'nnr:: :: : E,:5-
m t::r;A:rirs:
The Hollywood advertising policy of enumerating the features

22. of a film, each
emblazoned with the command, "See!" shows this primal power
of the attrac-
tion running beneath the armature of narrative regulation.
We seem far from the avant-garde Plemises with which this
discussion of
early cinema began. But it is important that the radical
heterogeneity which I
find in early cinema not be conceived as a truly oppositional
program, one irre-
concilable with the growth of narrative cinema. This view is too
sentimental
and too a-historical. A film like TnE GnEan TurN Ronssnv
(rgol) does point in
both directions, toward a direct assault on the spectatol (the
spectacularly en-
larged outlaw unloading his pistol in our faces), and towards a
linear narrative
continuity. This is early film's ambiguous heritage. Clearly in
some sense recent
spectacle cinema has reaffirmed its loots in stimulus and
camival rides, in what
might be called the Spielberg-Lucas-Coppola cinema of effects.

23. But effects are tamed attractions. Marinetti and Eisenstein
understood that
they were tapping into a source of energy that would need
focusing and inten-
sification to fulfill its revolutionary possibilities. Both
Eisenstein and Marinetti
planned to exaggerate the impact on the spectator[s], Marinetti
proposing to
iiterally glue them to their seats (ruined garments paid for after
the perfol-
mance) and Eisenstein setting firecrackers off beneath them.
Every change in
film history implies a change in its address to the sPectatol, and
each period
constructs its spectator in a new way. Now in a period of
American avant-garde
cinema in which the tradition of contemplative subjectivity has
perhaps run its
(often glorious) course, it is possible that this earlier camival of
the cinema, and
the methods of popular entertainment, still provide an
unexhausted resource -
a Coney Island of the avant-gatde, whose never dominant but
always sensed

24. current can be traced from M6liEs through Keaton, through UN
CnrsN ANDA-
Lou (7928), and Jack Smith'
N o t e s
First publishedinWide Angte8.3-4 (1986): 63-7o; and
subsequently, with some variations,
n faily Cinema: Space Frame Narratioe, ed. Thomas Elsaesser
(London: British Film Insti-
tute, r99o) 56-62. Ttrc variations and additions to the original
version are Put
between
squared brackets.
L. Femand L6ger, "A Critical Essay on the Plastic Qualities of
Abel Gance's Fllm The
IMeeI," Functions of Painting, ed. and intro. Edward Fry trans.
Alexandra Anderson
(New York Viking, t973) zr.
2. see my articles l'The Non-Continuous Style of Early Film,"
Cinema tgoo-t9o6, ed.
Roger Holman (Bruxelles: FIAF, rgSz) and ',An unseen Energy
swallows space:
The Space in Earlv Film and its Relation to American Avant
Garde Fllm," FiIm Before

25. Th"!ryg:?q.,ractions Reloaded
Grffith, ed' John L. Fell (Berkeley: u of Califomia p, ryg) 355-
66,and our collabora_tive paper delivered by M. Gaudreault at
tl" *rf;::;;i,C;;"" Film History(August t98) "Le cinema des
premiers temps: un ddfi a l,histoire du cin6ma?,, Iwould arso
like to note the importance of my discussions with Aaam simon
andour hope to further in;uestigate-ihe history and the
archaeology of the f'm spectator.3' Robert C. Aileru vauderiili
and FiIm: fii5-t9t5, A study rn*lleara Interaction (NewYork:
Amo, rygo) t59,2a2_.r.1.
4' Georges M6lids, "Importance du sc6nario,', in Georges
sadoul, Georges Mdriis (pais:
feghers, ry6r) n6 (my translation).
5' Christian MetZ The-,Imaginary signifier: Psychoanalysis and
the Cinema,trans. CeliaBrittoru Annwyr william! nen gr"ewste,
u'i err"a Guzzettt(Bloomington: Indiana
. yl,r98z), parricutarty 58-8o, gr_97.
t
:r11;lJVlusser'
'American vliag"uph t897-t9o.'," Cinema lournal zz.3 (spring
7' Raymond Fierding "Hale's Tours: tltrarearism in the pre_r9ro
Motion picfure,,,Film Before Grffith l:rl_jo.
8. I wish to thank Ben Brewster for his conpaper which pointed
out the r-p",";";;':?ilii"xtfi li:,
"U"1*l"JJ"fl"**;attractions here.
g' s'M' Eisenstern, "How I Became a Film Direct or,,, Notes of a
Fitm Director(Moscow:
l:yfl
Language publishing House, n.d.) 16.

26. 10. s'M. Eisensteiru "Montage oiAttractionq i, oun".Daniel
Gerould, The Drama Reztieznr8.r (March ry79:78_79.
r-r.. Eisensteiry ,,Montage of Attractions,, Zg_7g.72. Yon
Barna, Eisenstein (Bloomington: Indiana Up, ryp) 59.a3. F.T.
Marinetri, ,,The. Variety Thlater ]:rgrZli, futririionyntos,
ed,.Umbro Apollo,nio (Newyork: Viking, ryp) o7.
14. Michael Davis, The. Exproitation of preasure (New york:
Russell sage Foundation"
?ept..o_f
Child Hygiene, pamphtei rgrr).
1'5' David Levy, "Edison sales poliry ur'ti *r" Contirluous
Action FIm t9o4_r9o6,,, FilmBefore Grffith 207-22.
t6'
f];u
tut"t""t "visuar pleasure and Narrarive cinema,,, screen ,63 (Farl
ry75):
17' Paper delivered at the FIAF Conference on slapstick, May
ryg5,New york City.18' Nicholas vardas From stage to screen:
Theairical Methlds- yiom carrirt to Grffith(New York Benjamin
Blom, ry6g) 42.
Animating Hierarchy: Disney and the Globalization of
Capitalism
Lee Artz

27. Purdue University Calumet
Hammond, Indiana
[email protected]
Introduction
Much has been written about the power and influence of the
Disney corporation (Dorfman & Mattelart,
1975; Shickel, 1968; Smoodin, 1993; Wasko, 2000; Maltin,
1980; Mosley, 1985). With enterprises in film,
video, theme parks, cable and network television, cruise ships,
toys, clothing, and other consumer
products, Disney leads in the construction and promotion of U.
S. popular culture. Yet, despite its position
as global media giant—second only to Time-Warner-AOL, its
sordid past as cold war propagandist and
union-buster, and its current exploitation of sweatshop workers
(e.g., $1/day for Haitian Disney
employees), Disney maintains the Mickeyesque-aura of Uncle
Walt and wholesome family entertainment.
Indeed, Disney now serves as America’s moral educator (Real,
1977; Ward 1996). Dominating market
power in entertainment mitigated by avuncular representation
adheres to Disney in large part due to its
primary production art form: the animated feature.
Animation is central to Disney’s economic strength and cultural
influence. In the last ten years, Disney
has sold more than $2 billion in toys—toys based on characters
from animated films and cartoons.
Pegged to animated characters from Mickey to Pocahontas,
Disney theme parks have more visitors
yearly than 54 national parks combined. Using profits from its

28. animated feature films, Disney acquired
ABC, AM radio stations, and cable holdings such as ESPN and
A&E. Disney cable cartoon channels air
animated spin-offs such as "Aladdin," "Timon and Pumba," and
the "Jungle Cubs." And although Disney
has moved beyond animation with Miramax and Touchstone–
studios devoted to finding the 18-35
demographic–those efforts pale in comparison to the economic
success of cartoon features: seven of the
top ten selling videos in the world are Disney animations,
including Aladdin (1992), Tarzan (1999), Beauty
and the Beast (1991), and Pocahontas (1995). The Lion King
(1994) alone has grossed over $1 billion,
including merchandising and video sales. Beyond its mass
popularity (Wasko, 2000) and market
dominance in animated features, Disney’s leading position is
verified by the efforts at animation by recent
competitors: Fox studios and Steven Spielberg’s DreamWorks
now emulate the artistic and promotional
model. In terms of total revenues and in terms of international
recognition of its brand, animation is why
Disney has been and remains a leader in creating and marketing
entertainment in both the U.S. domestic
and export market
The startling success of Disney animation prompts the
perspective for this essay that accepts both a
political economy and cultural studies approach. Understanding
Disney animation helps clarify the
intimate relationship between ideology and socio-economic
practice. Investigating the construction,
content, and persuasive efficacy of animated Disney films
reveals that Disney consistently and
intentionally selects themes in its commodities-as-animated
features that promote an ideology useful to
Disney and capitalist society, but at odds with democratic,

29. creative communities. Disney’s animated
features simultaneously soften and distribute messages of class
hierarchy and anti-social
hyper-individualism.
Communicating through Animation
Animation provides the material, technical basis for creating the
"Magic Kingdom" of Disney content.
Animation exhibits and employs the features of all visual
communication, including the cinematic, that are
"designed to replicate some parts of human interaction" blurring
the "imminent margin between fiction and
reality" (Chesebro and Bertleson 143). The frame, the shot, the
scene, and the sequence that articulate
cinematic images by virtue of their composition–characters and
actions are highlighted and thus valued
by their on screen prominence and positioning. Animation has
considerably more representational latitude
than non-animated film: image, size, movement, color, lighting,
and continuity are easily altered with the
stroke of a pen or key. All "film claims to show the truth, but
constantly deceives" (Whittock 35), but
animation excels at both due to its technical and artistic
openness. Documentary film, for instance, could
not possibly re-construct the humanized characters and stories
of Disney’s Little Mermaid (1989), Lion
King (1994) or Tarzan (1999) because the natural world
disallows the fictional representations necessary.
In contrast, animated characters, settings, and representations
can be graphically adjusted to empower
desired meanings. In fact, Disney’s idealized worlds rest largely

30. on the artifice of animation: good
characters (e. g., Simban, the Sultan, Ariel, Pocahontas) exhibit
juvenile traits such as big eyes and round
cheeks (Lawrence 67) and are drawn in curves, smooth, round,
soft, bright, and with European features;
villains (e.g., Scar, Jafar, the Hun, Ratcliffe, Ursula) are drawn
with sharp angles, oversized, and often
darkly. Animation has available the same artistic capacity as
illustration, where color, shape, and size
evoke certain psychological responses and attitudes towards an
object. Mickey’s head, for instance, is
composed of three symmetrically attached circles. As former
Disney artist and executive John Hench
explains, "Circles never cause anybody any trouble. We have
had bad experiences with sharp points,
with angles, but circles are things we have fun with. . . circles
are very reassuring" (Brockway 31-32).
While film may give rise to what Walter Benjamin termed "a
new region of consciousness," (in Hansen
31), animation is further "freed from the limitations of physical
laws and formulae" (Moellenhoff 116) and
more easily disarms resistance to fiction and fantasy. Further,
animation thrives on the symbolic
personification of values and ideals through its use of visual
metaphor in which "disparate elements are
visually incorporated into one, spatially bounded, homogenous
entity" (Carrol 811). Again, although
screen writers and cinematographers regularly and effectively
express ideas through visual metaphor,
animation has more technical opportunities and less creative
obstacles.
Animation "real"-izes visual metaphors by enlivening illustrated
representations of fictional characters and
settings through motion and sound. When illustrations are
consistent with animal and human

31. physiology–"drawn from life" according to Disney promos (in
Addison 23)–and move accordingly, they
come alive. Animated motion attracts our attention, mitigating
its graphic fiction. Children, in particular, are
attuned to animation because it visually stimulates their
emotions (Moellenhoff 105) and Disney has
shown itself "capable of understanding the way that children
think and feel better than any other
filmmaker" of our time (Rosenbaum 69). Observe any pre-
schooler or grade schooler watch Disney–their
eyes are wide and their bodies quake; laughter is spontaneous
and fright discernible (Takahashi, 1991).
As Bjoerkqvist and Lagerspetz (1985) found, children respond
cognitively and physiologically to the
meaning of the animation.
For children, animation pierces the consciousness and physical
existence with experiential meaning,
creating a realm of understanding unavailable via literacy or
non-cinematic physical activity. Adults likely
interact with cinema in a similar, though less transparent
manner, given their socialization to self-control
and public self-consciousness. Of course, viewers, young and
old, recognize animation as fictive, not
real: it’s just a cartoon! However, reality and fantasy do not
compete in Disney, but "unite in a droll way"
(Moellenhoff 114) exempting the stories from fidelity to extant
or historical conditions.
To emphasize the story’s "innocence," Uncle Walt instructed his
artists to "keep it cute" (Bailey 75). Yet,
precisely because animation seems to be innocent, youthful
entertainment and "socially-harmless"
(Kunzle 11), we "are much more inclined to view the cartoon
film as an uncomplicated representation of
human ideas" (Moellenhoff 116). Perhaps because we know it is

32. fiction, animation lowers the threshold
for our suspension of disbelief, prepping us for a more tolerant
acceptance of plot, scene, character
action, and ultimately, ideas. U. S. Air Force studies of
technical and orientation films during World War II
found Disney animation to be not only exceptionally popular
among soldiers, but informationally superior
to documentary film and oral and written instruction (Hubley
and Schwartz 361). Citing supporting
research, O’Brien (1998) suggests that animated realism
remains unchallenged because the popular
audience believes it should be accepted, not analyzed (177).
The Disney Model
The appropriation of cultural codes from traditional tales
through visual metaphor, anthropomorphism,
naturalized scenes and settings, and music are defining
characteristics of Disney animation. Disney
animation entertains and instructs because it offers a cinematic
escape from reality by presenting
recognizable narrative and imagistic fictions as if they were or
could be reality. In part, the fantasies and
their narratives are shielded from external critiques because
they are based on widely-accepted cultural
myths and morals. Snow White, Lion King, Pocahontas, Mulan,
Tarzan, and most other Disney
animations are not original, but simplistically revised
appropriations of fairy tales, legends, and others’
stories. Early works such as Sleeping Beauty, Pinnochio, and
Cinderella were adaptations of European
folk tales. The Lion King was adapted from an African story
about Sundiata, a Mali King (Paterno, 1994)

33. retold by Japanese filmmaker Osamu Tezuka (Kuwahara, 1997);
Mulan was based on a 6th century
Chinese poem (Yi, 1999); Tarzan is the creation of Edgar Rice
Burroughs. In re-writing and animating
these and other stories, Disney reaffirms "basic, commonly
experienced social psychological needs which
are connected with the socialization process and through it with
the larger social structure" (Fluck 39).
Disney innovates, enhances, and modifies traditional tales,
crafting highly-stylized, naturalized graphics
within realistic narratives that are entertaining and persuasive
precisely because they are so familiar and
comforting.
Comfort comes in part from friendly animals that appear as lead
characters, editorial commentators, or
companions–adding appeal for young viewers and comic relief
for older viewers (Sleeping Beauty, the
only Disney feature without an animal sidekick, failed
miserably at the box office.). Indicative of Disney’s
naturalistic style, animal stars are always thoroughly
anthropomorphized to instantiate the fiction of some
human characteristic in animal behavior: motherly owl, devious
hyena, playful bear. In the Lion King,
Mufasa not only talks, he talks with the diction and accent of
British nobility, while the hyenas act and
sound like stereotypically black and Latino urban youth.
Cultural familiarity with such stereotypes enables
reception of Disney’s values. Conversely, those uninitiated to
certain stereotypes can acquire a
Disney-based social template to judge future social interactions:
upon hearing a group of black teens
talking in a shopping mall, a white toddler was heard to
exclaim, "Look, mom, hyenas!” In either case, it’s
clear that anthropomorphism–a prevalent form of visual
metaphor in animation—functions ideologically,

34. "deeply rooted in the culture" (Whittock 13).
Visual metaphor, anthropomorphism, naturalized scenes and
settings, and the appropriation of cultural
codes from traditional tales are defining characteristics of
Disney animation. Disney uses these
techniques and forms to tell stories with popular, yet enduring
themes (e. g., the coming of age, personal
responsibility, and the search for happiness and acceptance)
always presented in narrative form. In any
genre, narrative realism does not depend on historical accuracy
or on conditions of the natural world, but
on the story’s internal consistency and the resonance of fictions
incorporated within the story (Budd, Clay,
& Steinman, 1999). Disney animations are unsurpassed in their
narrative fidelity to dominant ideology and
cultural values, consistently leading audiences to "realistically"
believable fantasy lands. In the Lion King,
for instance, Disney relies on our continuing cultural fondness
for royalty and presumed noble beasts to
present a fictional world of nature where animals of prey bow
to–rather than flee from–the predator.
Likewise, Disney can dismiss the social inequality and brutality
of feudalism by creating representational
characters with familiar and believable connotations controlled
not "by the properties the [subject] actually
has but by those it is widely believed to have" (Beardsly 107): a
cuddly Sultan (Aladdin), a benign
emperor (Mulan), or a doting father (Little Mermaid).
Meanwhile, Disney easily denigrates democracy in
its narrative by casting secondary characters as bumbling or
threatening as in Pocahontas, Mulan, and
Tarzan or by scripting anti-monarchy dialogue as the rant of
scavenging hyenas in the Lion King. In short,
Disney can use such recognizable renderings from history and
nature in very anti-historical and

35. "un-natural" ways (e.g., a sultan who ignores social class, a
baboon that cooperates with lions), because
the techniques of animation are used to fashion realistic
narratives drawn from fables and stories past.
Indeed, because Disney excels at wrapping the fantastic in the
natural, its animated narratives assume
much of the verisimilitude of "real" movies.
Given the communicative power of animation in narrative
realism and the dominance of Disney as the
most popular purveyor of the art form, there is an emerging
consensus that Disney’s animations supply a
stable diegesis for socialization (Hansen, 1993). In his appraisal
of mass-mediated culture, for instance,
Michael Real (1977) determined Disney has replaced schools,
churches, and families in teaching society
right and wrong. Kathy Jackson (1993) argues that Disney and
its vision "permeates our culture" (109).
Annalee Ward (1996) further believes that for children the
social values of Disney stories "form the
standards for testing the truth of other stories later in life (177),
while Michael Medved (1998) even
portends an historic cultural shift to family values led by
Disney. Unfortunately, the pro-social values that
Ward and Medved perceive in the Lion King and the feminist
virtues that Henke, Umble & Smith (1996)
read into Little Mermaid and Pocahontas are surface readings of
Disney’s adjustment to its market needs.
Close attention to the narratives and character traits suggests
that although Disney animations remain
"naive, childlike, even childish" (Moellenhoff 114), they are not
the fairy tales of imagination that children
need (Bettleheim, 1977), nor are they socially progressive.

36. Rather, Disney animations are self-contained
confections mass-produced by adults writing, selling, and
promoting themes for product licensing and
private profits (Herman & McChesney 54)–with consumerist
values and ideologies supportive of capitalist
globalization.
Significantly, Disney’s animated visions not only thrive in the
U. S., they predominate in international
entertainment, in part, because more than any other global
communication form, animation crosses
borders. Unlike non-animated television and film, animation
does not need to be dubbed or fitted with
subtitles: cartoon characters are multi-lingual. Consequently,
the costs for international distribution of
animation are low, while the possibilities for cross-cultural
reception are high. Raised by the apes, Tarzan
speaks German. The Powhantan Pocahontas may not know her
own language, but she speaks fluent
French and Italian. Aladdin converses in Malay and Spanish,
but not his native Arabic, as that film market
is too small. In its commitment to market diversity, Disney also
willingly edits any culturally unfavorable
textual content as in Pocahontas (Edgerton & Jackson 94) and
Aladdin (White & Winn, 1998) because it
is "determined to release non-controversial" animated films to
maximize profits (Ostman 86-87).
Disney animations are not only linguistically adaptable, they
have long lives. In addition to the toys,
clothes, and other products which outlive the theater runs,
Disney animations are re-released on video
and characters reappear in various video and television spin-
offs. Actors age and die; cartoon characters
are eternal. Based on fairy tales and historic myths rather than
current events, Disney features do not

37. become dated as quickly as other genre. Snow White, Bambi,
Pinocchio, Peter Pan, and now Simba,
Mulan, and Tarzan will likely thrill future audiences as their
contemporaries.
Disney animation has already become popular with international
audiences, which eagerly anticipate and
are willing to pay for each new release. Disney develops its
films according to a strict artistic and
corporate protocol (Kunzle, 1975), displaying an identifiably
consistent naturalistic style, with richness of
color and shading, depth of detail in background, full musical
scores, and, of course, consistent themes,
narrative, and ideologies. When Disney used an outside artist
for Hercules (1997) audiences rejected the
departure from traditional Disney fare and the film stumbled at
the box office. Meanwhile, Steven
Spielberg’s DreamWorks studio has had some success in
mimicking Disney with Prince of Egypt.
Like all televised entertainment, animation carries no sanctions,
only gratifications to deliver meaning
(Hodge & Tripp, 1986). The popularity of Disney suggests that
audiences receive considerable pleasure,
while the pervasive redundancy of Disney animations assures
that Disney’s vision will be seen,
understood, and remembered–three requirements of effective
propoganda. Given evidence (Jose and
Brewer, 1984; Jose, 1990) that children causally equate
narrative outcomes with behavior (bad actions
are punished, good are rewarded), it is also likely that Disney’s
morals and hierarchies will be acted on as
valid and preferred. The magic of Disney–its ability to
communicate ideas to millions–comes from offering
children and adults alike a visual sweet, desired and satisfying.
Of course, for all of its pleasure, a

38. high-sugar diet is not the most nutritious. Likewise, the
messages in Disney’s vision do not encourage
healthy communities or democratic societies.
Narrating Animation
Along with its longstanding prominence in American culture,
Disney has stirred up significant criticism
(Shickel, 1968; Dorfman and Mattelart, 1975; Ostman, 1996).
After Uncle Walt declined to run for mayor
of Los Angeles because, as he said, "I’m already king," Joseph
Morgenstern (1971) charged that Disney
was "a royalist plot . . . to take over the United States and turn
it into a continental Magic
Kingdom"(Rosenbaum 64). More recent critical appraisals have
followed one of two tracks: exposes of
the Disney corporation and its practices (e.g., Wilson, 1993;
Smoodin, 1994; Bell and Sells, 1995; The
Disney Project, 1995; Hiaasen; 1998) or critiques of patriarchy,
racism, and historical inaccuracies in
Disney films (e.g., Benton, 1995; Buescher and Ono, 1996;
Hoerner, 1996; Pewewardy, 1996; Strong,
1996; Kuwahara, 1997; Renjie, 1999; Gravett, 2000). These
analyses are collectively thoughtful,
insightful, and valid, but nonetheless limited in scope. Feminist
critiques of individual self-hood (e.g.,
Addison, 1993; Henke, Umble and Smith, 1996; Hoerner, 1996;
Matti and Lisosky, 1997; Henke, 2000)
and cultural critiques of racist depictions (Schickel, 1968;
Wainer, 1993; Bogle, 1994) miss the way out
and the way in by subsuming their challenges within individual

39. choice. Disney can live with, and even
profit from, a non-European female protagonist (witness
Pocahontas and Mulan), but such adjustments
do little to reduce Disney’s promotion of social inequality. For
Disney, race and gender are primarily
dramatic and stylistic devices, "but the more profound
consequences of institutional racism (and
sexism–author added) are never allowed to even momentarily
invade the audience’s comfort zone"
(Ostman 95).
The rest of this essay addresses the more global concern raised
by Ariel Dorfman and Armand Mattelart
(1975) nearly three decades ago: the danger of seduction to
Disney’s representations and explanations
that are so necessary to capitalist hegemony and our own
political quiescence. A textual analysis of
themes in recent Disney animated features reveals that Disney’s
dream world of individual heroes and
princesses rests on cultural privilege, social inequality, and
human alienation–the same ingredients
obtained and produced by the socio-economic practices of
Disney and other capitalist enterprises. In
short, Disney’s symbolic production parallels the social
production of global capitalism..
Aladdin (1992), Lion King (1994), Pocahontas (1995), Mulan
(1998) and Tarzan (1999) were chosen for
investigation because not only are they collectively among the
most popular and financially-successful
Disney animations over the last ten years, they are also the most
widely critiqued. This essay assumes
and applauds previous analyses that have demonstrated various
historical inaccuracies or marked
apparent race and gender biases in these films. My own textual
analysis based on the audio dialogue, the

40. published scripts, and the visual graphic representations
verified most of the findings of the works cited
here, but, more importantly, it also unearthed some larger
themes that clarify how "dominant culture
constructs its subordinates" (Smoodin 36). As discussed above,
Disney creates its ideal world through an
animated narrative realism. Each narrative tells a story of the
way things are, or are supposed to be. Each
story (and every Disney product!) must represent the myth of
"how things are done, not then or now, but
always in the life of the living being, group, or culture"
(McWhinney and Batista 47). All details must fit
Disney’s mythic vision. Characters, in particular, must adhere
to Disney’s world view.
Each Disney narrative features some characters, events, and
perspectives, instead of others, in order to
entertain and to communicate a particular meaning. Presenting
some characters and events as more
entertaining, dramatic, humorous, or enlightening, and "real"-
izing them through animation, the Disney
narrative "suppresses" other characters or events as less
important, less entertaining, indeed,
uninteresting, even boring (Edgerton and Jackson 94).
Importantly, in all narratives, the story develops
through the action and discourse of the characters (Fisher,
1989). Characters can be evaluated by when,
how, and how often they speak and act, by what they say and
do, how they interact among themselves,
how they are rewarded in the story, and, importantly in any
audio-visual medium, how they look and
sound. Thus, Hoerner (1996) (adapting Beckson [1960]) defines
the story’s hero, or heroine, as the
central character determined by time on screen, lines of script,
and focus of story, while the villain is
defined as anyone who acts in opposition to the hero (227). In

41. Disney characters, the distinction between
good and evil, proper and improper behavior, is always clear in
the character’s actions (Berland 101).
Characters narrate the values and myths dear to the producer,
representing the producer’s preferred
values and themes to the audience.
Based on this perspective, the intertextual analysis offered here
considered each film’s narrative in terms
of character action (including dialogue) and character visual
depiction (including shape, size, color, and
other descriptive graphic features). The discovered markers of
character trait, social position, and
dramatic value within the narratives were bundled together in
four identifiable themes that seemed to
crystallize Disney’s ideological project. The distinguishing
themes in these five films, and most likely other
Disney features, include: 1) the naturalization of hierarchy; 2)
the defense of elite coercion and power; 3)
the promotion of hyper-individualism; and 4) the denigration of
democratic solidarity. Analytically distinct,
the four themes are necessarily intertwined, serving as
complementary supports for each and all, and are
dramatically apparent in each film (e.g., see APPENDIX for
character attributes). The following discussion
relies on the findings of this study, providing selected examples
from the study and occasional references
to other Disney films and previous critiques.
Hierarchy in Form and Content
Hierarchy in a social order indicates a ranking according to
worth, ability, authority, or some other

42. attribute. In Disney, these values are combined with goodness
and physical appearance such that in each
animated narrative, heroes and heroines are invariably good,
attractive, capable, worthy, and ultimately
powerful while in service to the narrative’s social order.
From the opening "circle of life" scene in the Lion King, for
instance, we cannot mistake the social order
and its validity. All species bow before the rightful king. The
heavens open and a (divine?) light shines on
the new lion cub. This future king is held before a multitude of
reverent and bowing beasts whose
happiness and very existence depends on the maintenance of the
established and rightful heirarchy. The
visual metaphors of good and evil are simple and transparent: a
regal king and his heir; an evil uncle who
covets the kingdom; and lesser, passive animal-citizens overrun
by social undesirables in need of
leadership. The meanings are animationally inescapable–the
King, and his son, Simba, are brightly
drawn, muscular, and smoothly curved; the villainous uncle,
"Scar," is dark, angular, thin, and disfigured;
the hyenas, likewise, are angular and unmistakably black and
Latino (in the voice, diction, and verbal
styles of Whoopi Goldberg and Cheech Marin); while the
socially irresponsible mircat and boar, more
cartoonish, less naturalistically drawn, live beyond the pride
lands. The dialogue and action indicate
importance, as well. Mufasa speaks in the King’s English,
usually from on high. Scar, the villain, lurks in
shape and movement, languid, lazy, and foppish, narratively
manipulating other characters through
deceit. The hyenas have secondary roles with fewer lines,
delivered comically, with slapstick interactions
that are nonetheless understood as threatening to the smaller,
younger, and naive lion cubs. In short,

43. from theme song and graphic representations to storyline,
Disney establishes a series of relationships of
power that are maintained throughout.
Similarly, Aladdin has a favorably drawn picture of hierarchy.
The hero Aladdin lives above Agrabah and
its smarmy merchants, murderous palace guards, and suffering
street urchins, at eye-level to the sultan’s
palace–a clear visual metaphor of Aladdin’s social equality with
the princess Jasmine. Significantly,
Aladdin has little interaction with any human character other
than Jasmine. He has a monkey companion
and, of course, his friendly Genie. Jasmine, one of Disney’s
recent "feminist" heroines, is spunky,
adventurous, and independent–although ultimately she needs
male guidance, rescue, and approval. This
fantasy of youthful rebellion and romance occurs completely
within the Disney world of hierarchy. The
hero never questions or challenges the feudal order: Aladdin
does not use the magic lamp to feed the
children, aid the poor, or disarm the Sultan’s army. No, this
"diamond in the rough" only strives to win the
princess and defeat Jafar, the arch-villain. Jafar, described
narratively as "a dark man . . . with a dark
purpose" is drawn darkly, highly-angular, threateningly tall,
with a long mustache and large nose. The
Sultan of Agrabah, in contrast, is round, with a white, fuzzy
beard, jovial features, a bumbling gait, and
short–the representational personification of benevolence–Santa
Claus without the red suit. Jafar speaks
with a thick Arab accent, plotting overthrow and subterfuge
throughout the story. The Sultan has a
cheerful British accent and plays with toys, largely oblivious to
the political intrigue: "benign . . . soft and
senile" (Addison 10). Jasmine has big eyes, an oval face,
flowing hair, and a youthful, yet curvaceous

44. body. Not coincidentally, Aladdin and Jasmine are the only
human characters with "American accents and
without conspicuously aquiline noses" (Addison 9). Light-
skinned Aladdin, the only male without facial hair
in the movie, saves the Sultan and Jasmine, so Agrabah can
"return to normal" in keeping with Disney’s
elite order (Singer 42).
The narratives of Pocahontas, Mulan, Tarzan, and other Disney
animations are formed from the same
redundant template of elite hierarchy, albeit with hegemonic
variation. In Pocahontas, the standard
Disney coming of age romance has been updated with a fiesty,
independent heroine in a narrative
advocating cultural tolerance. From the rousing anthem, "Colors
of the Wind," to the dialogue modifying
John Smith’s colonial justification, Disney claims that
Pocahontas is "an important message to a
generation to stop fighting, stop killing each other because of
the color of your skin" (Edgerton and
Jackson 91). Yet, in terms of Disney’s essential hierarchy (and
marketing goals!), it is little more than the
fairy tale refrain, "all the better to eat you with."
Appearing as "an amiable, accepting, nurturing"cartoon,
Pocahontas delivers another hierarchical
message, this time in a neocolonialist text (Buescher & Ono
129). Indeed, Pocahontas does not seek its
own path, but follows the trail of all Western captivity
narratives with its "noble" Powhatan, "savage"
warrior Kocoum, and "Indian princess" Pocahontas (Marsden
and Nachbar, 1988). John Smith, blond,
smoothly-muscular and athletically animated, fulfills the heroic

45. ideal in vision and plot, while chief
Powhatan appears more sedate in bold, symmetrical strokes,
with slower, more dignified screen
movements and dialogue. These two elites survive the actions of
the reactionary Kocuum and villainous
Ratcliffe. The stoic, irrational Kocoum has few lines and dies at
the hands of a naive colonialist. The
Ratcliffe character reveals in dialogue that he is indulgent,
pompous, greedy, incompetent, and not
respected by the British nobility. He appears as the largest
figure in the film, obese, with a huge nose, big
lips, and pencil-thin triangular mustache. The narrative’s social
relations are hierarchical: lower class
Anglos work for Ratcliffe or Smith; native soldiers and
villagers follow Powhatan’s directives. In the end,
the "good" colonialist, John Smith intervenes to save Powhatan
and order the arrest of Ratcliffe;
Pocahontas presumably finds her "true path" to be "alongside
her father as a peacemaker" (Edgerton and
Jackson 94); and the rest of the natives and English adventurers
assume their prescribed subordinate
positions, awaiting further orders from their superiors. In
Pocahontas, two hierarchical orders are
defended and left in tact: although the extended visual metaphor
of John Smith saving Powhatan and
wanting to civilize Pocahontas indicates that the colonialist is
dominant over the indigenous.
Given the prevalence of elite narratives in Disney animations, it
appears that hierarchy is a structural
prerequisite. Graphic representations verify such a conclusion.
In Mulan, the treacherous, invading Hun
towers over all other characters, hulking, hooded, and with
sharp, foreboding facial features: angled-eyes,
triangular eye-brows, long angular mustache, and tight lips. His
giant steed snorts, his falcon pierces the

46. air with hooked beak and sharp wings, and his dark minions
hack, maim, and kill with vigor. In contrast,
the Emperor of China is slight, thin, almost wispy and moves
gracefully across the screen. Barely defined
graphically, a mass of bowing, passive, and helpless citizens
provide background filler for the antagonism
between the huns and the heroine. Mulan has fewer Barbie-
esque features than other Disney females
and generally is less on display, although she is drawn with the
requisite oval face, large eyes, and
graceful body lines.
In the story, Mulan disguises herself as a man to replace her
father in the military draft–temporarily
violating the law against female fighting. She performs
courageously and through wit, physical skill, and
the assistance of some barely competent assistants, Mulan
overcomes the invading huns and saves
China. Of course, she returns to her proper "place" at her
father’s side in the family garden to be courted
by a handsome nobleman she met during her adventure.
Romance and Chinese feudalism lives!
Edgar Rice Burrough’s myth of Tarzan is well-known (Fury,
1994) and in little need of Disney’s creative
license. Raised by apes, Tarzan, king of the jungle, rescues Jane
and retires to an idyllic life of swinging
vines and fresh fruit. Disney lushly animates the narrative with
visual metaphors of good and evil within a
clear social hierarchy. Once again sharp, angular depictors carry
the villain on screen. Clayton has a big
head, protruding nose, cavernous mouth with huge teeth, jutting
chin, and the sinister little mustache of
melodramatic villainy. Clayton has a fondness for weapons,
easy wealth, and large ascots. When he
speaks his face contorts and his mouth twists ungraciously. Like

47. other Disney villains, Clayton is the
largest human character in the film–graphically representing
dangerous power. Tarzan is angular,
muscular, Aryan. His demeanor on screen is athletic and
coordinated, yet in dialogue he is innocent and
naive, evidence of the backwardness of his jungle family. Jane
teaches him, as the Western world
civilizes Africa, but his prowess saves Jane, as men protect
women. Jane’s colonizing father is a graphic
tracing of the Sultan: short, round, furry, and non-threatening.
Apes, baboons, an elephant and Clayton’s
men furnish the requisite comic filler or stereotypical
representation of the mass: alternately witless,
awestruck, and obedient to elite leaders or witless, hungry, and
easily roused to treachery by the villain.
These five films demonstrate that although Disney provides
multiple variations on the hierarchy theme,
each narrative occurs within a setting of clearly differentiated
power. As Wilson observed about theme
parks, "the organizing principle of the Disney universe is
control" (Wilson 166). In animation, race, gender,
and particularly, class register as recurring indicators of
hierarchy. A charting of authority suggests that
elite parental authority communicates social legitimation within
the narrative. Mufasa instructs Simba in
his duty. Porter approves Jane’s decision to stay with Tarzan. In
Lion King, Pocahontas, Tarzan, and
Aladdin, the patriarchs hold the ultimate say, but not all fathers
or all men have such power. Males other
than the lion kings speak little and act with minimal authority.
Mulan’s father accepts the Emperor’s
decree, Powhatan defers to John Smith, and Jane’s father to

48. Tarzan. In short, in each animated narrative,
a princely elite (animal or human) conveys and protects the
ideals, values, and traditions of the social
order.
While the hero and heroine are always noble and attractive by
birth, villains are privileged and titled due
only to the misplaced magnanimity or whim of a legitimate
superior. Villains are unattractive, semi-elite
social misfits. Jafar is Grand Vizier, advisor to Sultan; Scar is
King Mufasa’s disgruntled brother, ineligible
for legitimate succession; and Ratcliffe’s governorship is a
reluctant sop from more worthy elites. In each
of these narratives and others (e. g., Little Mermaid, Beauty and
the Beast, Fox and Hound), the
dominant social class has no villainy, producing only good
souls who never abuse their authority. We
understand this viscerally by the soft, cuddly caricatures that
Disney creates. Abuse comes solely from
those elevated beyond their goodness, villains who would reach
beyond their status and disrupt the social
order. But, alas, such villainy is always undone, because as
Disney’s Comic Book Art Specifications
dictate, only elites can triumph, there is "no upward mobility"
in Disney lands (Kunzle 16). In the fairy tale
world of the dominant, class rules apply: a frog becomes a
prince, only if he was a prince before. Rulers
may change among the elite (from Mufasa to Simba, from
Sultan to Aladdin), but the rules and ruled
remain. And, in Disney’s world, the only just rule is class
hierarchy.
In addition to providing heroes and villains with clearly drawn
markings of social status and value, Disney
illustrates social position and worth of secondary characters
with variations appropriate to their

49. relationship to hero or villain. Thus, aides to the hero/heroine
are invariably animals, friendly and "cute,"
as Uncle Walt dictated decades ago: Meeko the raccoon; Mu-
Shu the scrawny dragon; Timon and
Pumba, the Laurel and Hardy of the pride lands; Terk, the ape
sibling and Tantor the jovial elephant;
lively crabs; comic birds; and the like. Only Jasmine’s
companion tiger bodyguard and Aladdin’s Genie
possess any visual strength, but narratively they both live to
serve their owners. Villains occasionally have
animal assistants, some of whom are cast as reluctant
participants who find pleasure in other character’s
misfortune, i. e., not so cute. Each villain’s animal companion
has some graphically- or
narratively-suggestive objectionable feature: grating voice
(Jafar’s bird), mean-spiritedness (hyenas and
Ratcliffe’s pampered dog), or violent nature (the Hun’s falcon).
Humans loyal to the heroic characters and
awaiting more powerful leaders have less character development
(like the colonial workers in
Pocahontas), while the collective population frequently appears
as largely motionless, two-dimensional
spectators (as in Aladdin and Mulan), illustrating their passive
role in both the narrative and Disney’s
social vision. Evil henchmen, such as Clayton’s sailors or the
huns, are consistently shabbily-dressed or
disheveled, dark, often-bearded, usually armed, speak harshly in
short sentences, and mete out their
brutality only as long as the villain commands. In Disney, lower
class characters do not act on their own.
Large groups are often cast as mob-like in action and graphic:
jeering primates terrorize Jane; wildebeest
stampede without regard for others in the Lion King; native
warriors huddle around the fire waiting for
orders to attack; the huns shout and howl above the thunder of
their horse’s hooves. Whether Africa,

50. Arabia, North America or China, few from the good citizenry or
evil troops are individualized, even fewer
have articulate voices, appearing but as replicates from two or
three stencils, graphically reflective of their
necessarily subordinate position in Disney’s hierarchy. In sum,
the five Disney films considered here play
the same refrain: a stylized, naturalized, and Westernized elite
hero combats a privileged anti-social
over-sized villain, while cute animal sidekicks and thuggish
rebels knock about in front of a shapeless,
faceless humanity. Animating hierarchy centers Disney’s vision,
whatever the era, geography, or species.
Justifying Power and Coercion
To underscore this essential Disney law, narrative resolution in
each film defends and reinforces the
status quo. Nothing is resolved until the preferred social order
is in place. No one lives happily ever after
until the chosen one rules. All is chaos and disorder in the pride
lands until Simba returns as monarch.
Even nature withholds its bounty, pending the proper social
hierarchy. Ariel must first be married to
human royalty with Triton’s blessing, before aquatic peace
returns. Saving China is only a youthful
adventure: Mulan’s "place in life" is in the family garden. Even
the wisest of apes knows Tarzan is
superior. And so it goes, in all Disney animation. We all need
true rulers who are wise, benevolent, and
powerful. Any other arrangement is unworkable. Villains may
attain power, but as non-elite, false leaders,
they are ill-equipped to rule. Their reign is disastrous and

51. temporary. Soon the hero will save the day and
the hierarchy. "As evil is expelled, the world is left nice and
clean" and well-ordered (Dorfman and
Mattelart 89). Thus, zebras bow, faceless Chinese cheer, and in
general, the masses rejoice (and happily
resume their subservience) upon the triumphant defense of the
hierarchy. The pleasant narrative
outcome verifies the virtue of hierarchy. Perhaps, we too should
find our place in the circle of life and be
so happy and lucky!
Preference and justification for elite control can be observed in
the attributes of each narrative’s leading
authority: they are morally good and invariably benevolent. The
Sultan may be disoriented, but he is a
gentle soul, impervious to evil. A compassionate John Smith–
"the perfect masculine companion"–is
willing to sacrifice his own life to avoid further bloodshed
(Buescher and Ono 140). In contrast to the
malevolent huns, Mulan’s emperor exudes warmth for his docile
subjects. Tarzan demonstrates his
human compassion and superiority in saving his ape family (and
Jane). For Disney, all elite authority
figures are good, caring, and protective of their wards. In a
telling statistical analysis of 11 Disney
animations, Hoerner (1986) found that heroic protagonists
exhibit 98% of all pro-social behavior in the
films (222). Disney’s subsequent animated films maintain the
same class-based morality.
Rulers are also responsive to the individual needs of their duly
anointed successors, frequently revising
rules that do not overturn the status quo. The Sultan changes the
laws of royal matrimony. John Smith
orders the arrest of a Governor. Mulan’s father, emperor, and
royal suitor all forgive her individual

52. indiscretion, but the discriminatory laws against women are not
revoked or even questioned. After
witnessing Tarzan’s rescue of his ape family, Kerchak puts
aside his species-bias and declares Tarzan
king of the jungle. Significantly, once their individual needs are
met, all heroes and heroines come to
accept the wisdom of established authority and norms.
The consistent haloing of hierarchal power as preferable for all
organizes the film’s moral conflict and elite
response to challenge. In all cases, elite heroes and heroines use
coercion with impunity, continuing a
Disney tradition that dates back to Snow White (Hoerner 226).
Elite coercion varies from the Beast’s
abuse of Belle to the colonialist’s murder of Kocoum. Mulan
slaughters dozens of huns, Tarzan wrestles
with Clayton who accidentally falls to his own death. In
addition to coercion, elites frequently employ
deceit: Aladdin assumes a false identity; Mulan disguises
herself; Tarzan conspires to violate a jungle
law. Everywhere and always Disney’s heroic elites are stronger,
smarter, and victorious in the final
conflict (even when performing anti-social acts). In each case,
the protagonist earns riches, power, and
happiness.
In contrast, villains–who almost exclusively exhibit antisocial
behavior and violence–suffer calamity or
death: Jafar is imprisoned for thousands of years; Scar dies;
Kocoum dies; Ratcliffe is arrested; the Hun
dies; Clayton dies. One need not consult a literary critic to
understand the moral of these stories. In all
fairy tales, good triumphs over evil, but for Disney good is the
exclusive genetic and social right of the
elite. Elites are attractive, benevolent, good, and successful;
villains are misshapen, treacherous, evil,

53. and cannot win. The rest of the Disney world is
undifferentiated, passive, dependent on elite gratuity, and
largely irrelevant except as narrative fodder.
Self-fulfillment through Self-Gratification
Moral decisions regarding individual responsibility and self-
fulfillment concern many coming of age
stories, but Disney’s tales push ego to the extreme. According
to Disney, the most important, romantic,
and meaningful events in life belong to elite individuals seeking
self-gratification–no other stories are
worth telling. The Disney experience is clearly that of social
privilege. Along with luck, riches, romance,
and happiness, elites have a lock on individual choice. All
others carry out their social role without much
complaint or deviance–or else face severe reprisals.
Life choice exists only for the central characters. Soon-to-be
prince Aladdin frolics in the palace with
Jasmine, the Sultan, and Jafar, the rest of Agrabah must toil and
trade outside. Simba chooses to party
with his "akunamatata" buddies or not, but Disney leaves others
subject to Scar’s rule. Nakoma, Kocoum,
and others work or war, but Pocahontas is free to flit about the
forest. John Smith prances off into the
woods, too, while Disney’s hard-working sailors dig the dirt. In
Disney’s world, self-realization exists
exclusively for the privileged individual.
Henke, Umble and Smith (1996) applaud the freedoms Disney
gives the The Little Mermaid and Belle in
Beauty and the Beast, blaming Disney’s town people for

54. "marginalizing" Belle as "peculiar" (237) and
sympathizing with Ariel’s "frustration and resistance" to life in
the sea. Wishing a feminist intent to Disney,
they note that "like Ariel, Belle has freedom to make choices
and to act on her own behalf" and
"Pocahontas exercises power over her future" (238-39). So
(although Disney still scripts romance as the
right "choice" for Ariel, Belle, Pocahontas, and Mulan),
compared to Snow White and Aurora in Sleeping
Beauty, elite females have come a long way, baby! Yet, honing
in on the individual attributes of Disney’s
lead females ignores the ignoble, reductive characterizations of
Ariel’s sisters, Belle’s neighbors, and the
Powhatan women as passive, uninteresting, perhaps ignorant
and certainly less worthy. In other words,
seen in the context of Disney’s hierarchical themes, gender-
friendly individual freedom is simply another
attribute reserved for the royals.
Heroes and heroines search for their self-fulfillment through
individual self-gratification based on social
privilege. To be true to yourself depends on your social
position. Orphans, merchants, zebras, baboons,
sailors, warriors, and workers face no dilemma. Their true
selves are patently, graphically obvious. They
in the background unless needed in the elite narrative. Their
inferior quality of life in the narratives seems
natural and uninteresting, and certainly of no concern to
aristocrats pursuing their own self-fulfillment. To
be true to yourself as an elite protagonist is to be true to the
social hierarchy. Disney emphasizes this
graphically by placing the most important individual characters
above the rest of its animated society.
Jasmine and Aladdin court above the city, Simba is held aloft
above a jutting rock, Pocahontas sings on a
mountain peak, Mulan triumphs on the palace roof, and Tarzan

55. swings in the tree tops. By design, no
other characters are displayed as high.
Like privileged white youth today, Disney’s animated elites
search for something new atop the class
structure. Of course, as the best and brightest Disney has to
offer, these characters already have more
freedom, more choice, and more opportunity than others in the
script. Yet, Disney posits their ennui as a
universal, progressive search for something more, while in the
end each chooses their own social position
(or one slightly higher), verifying that any individual given a
free choice would "naturally" choose
supremacy within a hierarchy.
Moreover, no matter what choice they make, they risk little. In
or out of water, Ariel is princess.
Pocahontas never has to pick corn. And, despite his disastrous
deceit, Tarzan remains jungle king. All
Disney heroes and heroines break free from any constraint at
will: Ariel escapes the sea; Mulan, a
matched marriage; Tarzan, the ship’s hold. The narratives
record the social inequity of all hierarchies:
individual choice has few restrictions or risks for elites.
Individual happiness for elites never requires social change.
Disney heroes and heroines may yearn for
something just around the bend, but their search circles in on
their own self-satisfaction. Disney’s fetish
for supreme individualism discounts any concern for others. In
their quest for more, elite self-interest
predominates. Even when selfishness jeopardizes others or
causes death, redemption is inscribed at the

56. end. Jasmine puts children in danger, her selfish snits land
Aladdin in prison. Pocahontas’ flirtation with
Smith gets Kocoum killed. Chinese die during Mulan’s deceit.
A love struck Tarzan endangers his family
and Kerchak is killed. Of course, being good and just,
individual elites face few negative consequences
for their self-centered decisions.
None of the elites question unjust social relations or poor social
conditions. The well-read Belle can
imagine nothing more than her own romance. Once crowned,
Aladdin is unperturbed by poverty and
violence. Mulan’s familial duty does not challenge
discriminatory traditions. Simba, John Smith, Tarzan,
and other heroes seek only self-gratification. The resulting
social peace and harmony occur as necessary
narrative corollaries to Disney’s promotion of elite self-interest.
If the Princess is happy, the kingdom
rejoices.
Egalitarian social relations would disable Disney’s hierarchy
and its focus on individual aristocrats. Could
Jasmine and Aladdin find happiness in the streets? Could Nila
elope with Simba to akunamatata land
leaving the others to form a society without predators? Could
the handsome prince come a courtin’ Mulan
if she used her prowess to help overthrow feudalism and usher
in women’s rights? Or (following Disney’s
rewriting of history for entertainment purposes), could Ratcliffe
get shot, John and the sailors sink the
ship, and all live a happy pastoral life with the Powhatan? No,
Disney dictates that self-fulfillment
concerns only the elite and their individual satisfaction within
the social order is sacrosanct. The last thing
Disney needs is to have illustrators and animators creating their
own art or garment workers and theme

57. park employees organizing for better working conditions. Why
would Disney want to popularize a
narrative with cute characters advocating democracy and
opportunity for all? Thus, all individual heroes
and heroines act freely and with impunity within their social
position, and, at the denouement, they all
individually choose to fulfill their social responsibility in
defense of the status quo, justifying, excusing,
and/or rewarding previous actions.
In privileging individualism as a narrative theme, Disney does
more than create heroes and heroines with
both good and bad traits like characters in most television
cartoons (Williams, 1991). Rather, Disney
draws narrow self-interest as the path to self-fulfillment. As the
only model present, elite individualism
gets more than a nod of approval. The value of elite self-
gratification without regard for others is justly
confirmed by its rewards: gold, real estate, power, privilege,
marriage and whatever other riches and
social preferences appear apropos to each narrative. This
"hyper-individualism" is permissible because it
belongs to those at the pinnacle of Disney’s social order. To be
honest, the final refrain to Disney
animation theme songs should be: "If I want it, I get it, then
all’s right with the world."
Solidarity for None
Disney’s naturalization of hierarchy, its defense of elite
coercion, and its promotion of unrestricted elite
individualism coalesces in stories that undermine and denigrate
social responsibility, democracy, and
human solidarity. Thematically, Disney’s opposition to
democracy and solidarity is apparent in its graphic

58. illustrations of non-elite characters, the lack of dialogue for
non-elite characters, its consistent slights of
group interests, and the narrative and visual naturalization of
unfavorable social conditions.
In focusing exclusively on individual elites, Disney dismisses
group solidarity and the public interest as
unimportant to the story. Although each narrative includes
dozens of non-elite characters, they appear
primarily as background or as proxies for the protaganists. In
fact, "every Disney character stands on
either one side or the other of the power demarcation line. All
below are bound to obedience, submission,
discipline, humility. Those above are free to employ constant
coercion, threats, moral and physical
repression, and economic domination" (Dorfman and Mattelart
35).
Producers are non-existent in Disney (Dorfman and Mattelart,
1975; Wilson, 1993). In ridding the
animated environment of work and its necessary social
relations, "all the everyday functions of the city
have been hidden or banished" (Wilson 64). Thus, the
contributions and value of the majority of society
disappear as well. Necessities of life in Disney’s world appear
magically, so feudal exploitation and other
undemocratic conditions can be ignored, as can the individual
and collective participation of farmers,
workers, artisans, and other producing human beings, leaving
Disney free to focus on the lives of the rich
and fantastic.
Individualism and competition–buzz-words for capitalism–are

59. reserved for Disney’s fantasy elites, who
have no moral or social peer. Elite ideas and actions are right,
good, and ultimately successful. Villains
may have ideas and take action, but they are wrong, bad, and
doomed to fail. In such a fantasy world, no
other ideas or actions are needed and hence Disney’s animated
public seldom speaks, exhibits limited
thought, and undertakes little independent action–and never,
ever, does a non-elite character freely
broach the question of equality, democracy, or social justice.
Non-elites have little self-interest. They have no personal
ambition. Indeed, life below affords no individual
distinction, at all. All non-elites are all traced from similarly
static outlines. Yet, Disney cannot imagine
they have any similarity of interest. At most, Disney’s animated
populations appear as "average"
characters, either acting irresponsibly as inferiors squabbling
over trifles or passively waiting for
mobilization orders from a superior. Most secondary castings
are not particularly bright in dialogue or
graphic portrayal, except for aides who are often mischievous
but harmless, comic animal sidekicks like
the Lion King‘s Timon and Pumba, Mu-Shu, Mulan’s dragon, or
Terk, Tarzan’s ape sibling. Less
enlightened non-elites tend to anti-social behavior as thieving
hyenas or tormenting monkeys. Having
baser instincts, "bad" non-elites (unshaven, partially dressed,
usually large) are also prone to violence
and easily misled by nefarious Disney antagonists: Arab bandits
work for Jafar; sailors join Clayton in
kidnapping; and hordes follow the Hun.
Of course, according to Disney, most non-elites tacitly or
enthusiastically understand that hierarchy is
good and support the social order no matter who rules. The

60. citizens of Agrabah bow to the Sultan, Jafar,
then Aladdin on each successive command; no animals rise up
against Scar; the colonialists obey
Ratcliffe, then Smith; and all apes obey Kerchak, then Tarzan.
The King is dead, long live the monarchy!
According to Disney, workers, sailors, farmers, and other
producers are wretched, irrational, chaotic, and
passive, unable to act on their own. Some may be roused to mob
action under the wrong leader, but all
will be happier if the proper order is fulfilled–the hierarchical
natural order of the animal kingdom or the
hierarchical social order of an Arab Sultanate, Chinese Empire,
or British colony. Group action, in other
words, only occurs at whim of the powerful.
Worthless individuals would likewise collectively amount to
nothing, so Disney omits any independent,
cooperative action by non-elite citizens or community members.
Non-elite characters never even discuss
their own democratic interest. Moreover, in these five Disney
films, actions by leading characters
thoroughly shred any semblance of collective interest. Aladdin
deserts the orphans and his neighborhood;
Pocahontas betrays her nation; Tarzan betrays his family; Mulan
deceives her family and compatriots;
and Simba deserts the pride lands, returning primarily out of
revenge and duty to his social position.
Disney never animates democracy or social responsibility.
Disney heroes in all their wit and wisdom never
seek happiness or fulfillment through commitment to improving
the human condition. Instead, all Disney
animated stars indicate that acting against the public interest in
one’s search for individual gratification is
natural, legitimate, and preferred. Community or family
interests or democratic concerns do not appear in
Disney.

61. Herein lies Disney’s message to the world: "Get whatever you
can by force, deceit, or luck. The future of
the world revolves around the individual, self-interested actions
of naturally-superior elites." In 1975,
Dorman and Mattelart described the world of Disney as "a 19th
century orphanage" (35). Thirty years
later, Disney is animating 21st century gated communities for a
global consumerist culture where the only
actions relevant are by those living on inside the circle of
capitalist life. Solidarity among the majority
populations on the outside is unthinkable for Disney’s
"imagineers."
Realistic Fantasies, Fantastic Realities
We need to understand and unpack Disney because it is a world
leader in mass entertainment implicated
in the globalization of capitalism and the concerted effort to
deregulate and privatize world culture. A
highly proficient producer and international distributor of
capitalist cultural products, Disney advances an
ideological content that parallels the social and political
requirements of capitalist economic activity:
hierarchy, elite coercion, hyper-individualism, and social
atomism (Therborn, 1983). In particular, Disney’s
animated features communicate a clear message to the world:
the individual quest for self-gratification,
adventure, and acquisition is good and just. This cultural edict
suggests that the momentary pleasures of
entertainment will free us from the throbbing anxiety of daily
life. So, just as Disney’s animated masses

62. await their rescue by some benevolent noble, millions are
encouraged to rely on successive Disney films
for pleasure and distraction.
Of course, Disney’s "fabrication of mass culture" as individual
consumption is "built on the backs of
masses" of farmers, garment workers, technicians, illustrators,
retail clerks, and other working people
(Dorfman and Mattelart 98), but from the pinnacle of power and
in front of the movie screen, such details
of production are irrelevant. Wealth appears and riches flow to
all deserving elites. To be rich is to be
good (and a little lucky!). To be poor is to be bad (too bad?)
and unlucky. A world designed by Disney
CEOs and other cartoon representatives would "naturally" have
social problems and economic inequities,
individual capitalists would deny responsibility, and the poor
would have to accept their plight or be
removed.
However, Disney does not "conspire" to build such a new world
order. No, its pro-capitalist ideological
premises are patently obvious, redundant, and pervasive.
Furthermore, dominance in the production of
commodified animation and its spin-offs indicates that Disney’s
narratives resonate with appreciative
mass audiences, suggesting that Disney’s hierarchical themes
are also culturally acceptable, at least
tacitly. Thus, the ability to market popular films and the
public’s delight in consuming their little pleasures
can best be understood as a negotiated hegemonic activity
(Gramsci, 1988). Like modern advertising,
Disney worlds are fanciful, optimistic, and tidy (Croce 91). And
like advertising, Disney has become part
of everyday life, commercially and culturally institutionalized
by design (O’Brien 173-75). But in Disney’s

63. case, the medium is also the advertisement. Disney products are
themselves advertisements for Disney
and for its ideological and cultural themes.
Disney’s dominance is secured through its selective application
of technology, technique, and
culturally-palatable content. Naturalized animation of cultural
truisms combined with a hierarchical
narrative realism stimulates mass audiences to collective
anticipation, surprise, and wonder. In
appreciation, we consent to our own satisfaction and distraction.
As audiences, we are busy enjoying the
stylized graphics and familiar narratives, while Disney
successfully reflects, clarifies, and popularizes
existing dominant cultural values and meanings. In the process,
we are held hostage to a highly
individualistic, consumerist perspective that leads us to
understand these films in terms of social privilege
and individual escapism (Hansen 40).
The interpretation of the handful of Disney animations
presented here is intended only as an entry to
discussing Disney’s vision for globalization. Understanding
Disney clarifies the global intent of corporate
capitalism. Without deviation Disney animates and narrates
myths favorable to a corporate culture
(McWhinney and Batista, 1988), including its own (Wilson,
1993; Hiassen, 1998). The emerging world
capitalist culture revels in the ideology distributed by Disney,
an ideology which aligns the morals of every
animated film to class hierarchy, thereby denigrating and
dismissing solidarity, democracy, and concern
for community needs and interests.
Those interested in improving world social conditions and
human solidarity should take note of the

64. cultural power of animation, narration, and entertainment.
Disney’s application is one variant extremely
useful to global capitalism. The practice of individual
consumption of entertainment commodities (which
further promote individual consumption) subverts collective
reflections and discussions that could lead to
solidarity.
Artists, illustrators, historians, animators, technicians,
storytellers, and individual citizens must collectively
take hold of technology and technique for democratic purposes.
Disney’s autocratic production model and
generic content should be replaced with cooperative creations
and democratic narratives. For American
audiences, animated films featuring historic figures such as
Simon Bolivar, Touissant L’Overture, Joe Hill,
Mother Jones, Sojourner Truth, and Green Water Woman could
foreground movements for liberation and
equality. Historic struggles for freedom elsewhere supply an
abundance of other possibilities. Rather than
viewing heroes who only want more stuff, children and adults
could become acquainted with protagonists
and behaviors that validate social interaction, social
responsibility, and social justice. Such heroines and
heroes would be worthy of emulation. Of course, the struggle
over culture will not be decided by cartoon
figures, but surely working classes around the world need a
vibrant, "animated" democratic culture as a
necessary forum for communicating and organizing a political
power against real hierarchies. Creating
our own entertainment would be one way to proactive
democratic communication and promote
international solidarity for human liberation.

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