In their book, The Disney Villain, authors and legendary Disney animators Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston discuss a scene from Pinocchio:
“Historian, author, and critic John Culhane said the most upsetting moment in the whole picture for him was when the Coachman was testing each new donkey to see if any remnants of the boy remained. He asked one donkey what his name might be. The trembling voice replied, ‘Alexander.’ The gruff coachman flung him aside, yelling, ‘This one can still talk! Put him back!’ John moaned, ‘I have worried about that kid my whole life.’”
This memory of Pinocchio, from Culhane, a legend as well, is reminiscent of those from so many who have seen Walt Disney’s animated masterpiece since it first debut eighty-five years ago today, on February 7, 1940.
The film is one of those rare films that has become a significant part of film history, art, pop culture, and impactful childhood memories.
The follow-up to the Disney Studio’s first landmark animated feature, 1937’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Pinocchio was another expansion of the art form, showcasing all the immense talents of the Disney artists.
Walt bought the rights to Pinocchio in 1934. It’s claimed that animator Norm Ferguson is the one who brought the story to Walt’s attention.
Written by Italian author Carlo Collodi and published in 1883, the original Pinocchio was a much darker, at times violent, story that would be tailored for its translation as a Disney animated feature.
The film tells the epic and episodic tale of the title character, an innocent puppet boy, who a magical Blue Fairy brings to life for the kindly Geppetto, the woodcarver who created Pinocchio. With his “conscience,” Jiminy Cricket, at his side, Pinocchio sets off for school and finds himself on an adventure that leads him to the villainous puppet master Stromboli, the eerie realm of Pleasure Island, and a finale in the belly of the whale Monstro.
Throughout all of this, Pinocchio is a true spectacle. No matter how often one has seen it, there is so much to marvel at.
The Disney animators’ mastery of personality animation is on full display here. There’s the innocence of Pinocchio, brought to the screen by Thomas and Johnston, along with fellow legend Milt Kahl; the warmth of Geppetto, which came from the brilliance of Art Babbitt; the swagger of Lampwick (the cocky young boy Pinocchio meets on Pleasure Island) that springs off the screen, thanks to the genius of Fred Moore and the immense power of Monstro the whale, in one of films most kinetic action sequences, courtesy of Wolfgang Reitherman.
Each dynamic performance demands attention as soon as they appear on screen.
As does the explosive Stromboli, who was memorably animated by Vladimir “Bill” Tytla (who would also, incredibly, animate Chernabog in Fantasia, released the same year). Noted author, animation historian, and Oscar-winning animator John Canemaker curated an exhibit of Tytla’s work at New York’s Katona Museum of Art in 1994.
In an interview at the time of the exhibit’s opening, Canemaker noted of Tytla’s work on Pinocchio, “Stromboli is an incredibly strong and powerful character. One of the most three-dimensional of Disney’s villains. He could charm you and seem to be funny, but he’s unpredictable.”
Then, there is Ward Kimball’s work on Jiminy Cricket. When creating the character, Kimball wisely jettisoned any ugly, insect-like appearance, and the result was one of animation’s most famous characters, serving as host, narrator, and, yes, conscience for the audience.
So well received was Jiminy Cricket, a breakthrough star, that he went on to be featured in the 1947 package film Fun and Fancy Free, and later on, The Mickey Mouse Club and educational films. Through the years, Jiminy has also emerged, along with Mickey Mouse and the gang, as somewhat of a spokesperson for Disney.
In addition to Kimball’s work, a big part of Jiminy Cricket’s connection with audiences came from the voice of Cliff Edwards, a popular singer nicknamed “Ukulele Ike.” Edwards provided a genial vocal performance that paired perfectly with the character.
Along with Edwards, Pinocchio’s cast was filled with talented character actors and comedians, such as young Dick Jones as Pinocchio, Christian Rub as Geppetto, Walter Catlett as “Honest” John, the fox who tricks Pinocchio out of going to school, Charles Judels as Stromboli, Evelyn Venable as the Blue Fairy, and Frankie Darro as Lampwick.
Also, the one and only Mel Blanc, best known for his iconic Looney Tunes character voices at Warner Bros, was initially cast as Gideon, the dim-witted cat who is the sidekick of “Honest” John. Blanc recorded the dialogue for the character, and then it was decided that Gideon wouldn’t speak. All that remains in Pinocchio of Blanc’s performance is a hiccup.
The backdrop for these characters are some of the most stunning moments in Disney animation. Illustrator Gustaf Tenggren, who created beautiful conceptual artwork during Pinocchio’s early production days, inspired the film’s style.
Directors Ben Sharpsteen and Hamilton Luske partnered this artwork with the technology of the Multiplane Camera to give scenes in Pinocchio additional depth and dimension, usually found in live-action films. This is especially seen in a brief yet striking sequence where the camera seemingly “swoops” through Geppetto’s village as the residents emerge from their homes to start the day.
Then, there are the songs by Leigh Harline and Paul J. Smith, each setting perfectly in the story and finding life beyond the film. They include “Give a Little Whistle,” “Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee,” “I’ve Got No Strings,” and the Academy Award-winning “When You Wish Upon a Star,” which would go on to become an anthem for the Disney Company. (For more on the music of Pinocchio, check out Greg Ehrbar’s 2015 Animation Spin article).
The song, like the film, contains messages of hope and faith. As Pinocchio celebrates its 85th anniversary, it’s easy to see why generations have enjoyed this wonderful film, passed it down to subsequent generations, and, like Mr. Culhane, still worry about poor Alexander from Pleasure Island.
Michael Lyons is a freelance writer, specializing in film, television, and pop culture. He is the author of the book, Drawn to Greatness: Disney’s Animation Renaissance, which chronicles the amazing growth at the Disney animation studio in the 1990s. In addition to Animation Scoop and Cartoon Research, he has contributed to Remind Magazine, Cinefantastique, Animation World Network and Disney Magazine. He also writes a blog, Screen Saver: A Retro Review of TV Shows and Movies of Yesteryear and his interviews with a number of animation legends have been featured in several volumes of the books, Walt’s People. You can visit Michael’s web site Words From Lyons at: 
In terms of Disney’s output, one thing that is often overlooked is that Pinocchio extends and expands the art of animation beyond the admittedly amazing scope of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It is a deeper, more perplexing story, in some ways morally ambiguous, and loaded with symbolism. It only appears on the surface to be a children’s film, but it is squarely aimed at an adult audience. And as pointed out above, it has its own terrors.
For me, one of the most terrifying moments is when Pinocchio sets his finger on fire and calls out “Look! Pretty!” and having of course no notion that his action is potentially fatal to him. That’s one scene that has haunted me ever since I first saw the film–and it is not mentioned in any of the adaptations of the movie story in books, records, or comic books. Another gut-wrenching moment comes when Lampwick realizes he is actually for real turning into a donkey. For this swaggering youth to be reduced to a terrified child is a traumatic scene to watch–and the point is driven home with a sledgehammer that he, like the other boys, brought this on himself. Pinocchio’s innocence is his saving grace at this moment, because the transformation for him is only partial–he was not fully aware of the ramifications of evil. “Take the straight and narrow path” is no mere song lyric, but in this instance is a dire warning, as indeed are all of the perils and dangers that beset Pinocchio.
This is one instance where the film version improves upon the book. Collodi’s Pinocchio is largely unsympathetic, plunging himself willfully into danger after danger. He kills without remorse (who he kills I won’t say in case someone wants to read the book) and he takes delight in defying authority. The Disney Pinocchio has been criticized for being largely passive, but this is I believe a deliberate character choice on the part of the animators and storytellers, showing a progression from innocence to awareness. By the end of the story it is Pinocchio’s own resourcefulness and courage, learned through his temptations and trials, that saves the day.
Leonard Maltin in “The Disney Films” characterizes Pinocchio as “Disney’s masterpiece” and I have to agree.
I misquoted. The “masterpiece” comment actually comes from Christopher Finch “The Art of Walt Disney.” The Maltin quote is “Pinocchio is a film of amazing detail and brilliant conception.” In either case, I agree.
I read both books over the exact same Christmas holiday so that’s probably why I mixed up the references.
Like Culhane, as a youngster, the boys turned to donkeys disturbed me as well. The scene I most remember is the one on the beach as one of the donkeys cries “Mama” only to have to turn into a braying “heehaw”
Charles Judels also did the cockney accented Coachman..whether his accent was more accurate than Bert in Mary POppins is subjective..I agree on the Donkeys.
I was over forty before I saw Walt Disney’s “Pinocchio”. When I was little I saw a Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation of the story on TV, and the scenes where Pinocchio’s nose grew and he turned into a donkey absolutely terrified me. The idea of such grotesque physical deformation as a consequence of sin went far beyond anything I had learned in Sunday school.
We also had an ancient German-language edition of the novel with very creepy illustrations, more like Gustave Doré than Disney. (The creepiest thing about them is that Pinocchio was buck naked throughout.) I very early formed the idea that “Pinocchio” was not merely a morality tale, but a horror story.
When I was twelve, my family went to see the Disney on Ice show, in which the story of Pinocchio was reenacted by the costumed skaters with clips from the film projected onscreen. One of the clips was of Lampwick’s transformation into a donkey. I was a big adolescent boy and knew what was coming, but the scene nevertheless frightened the bajeebers out of me.
By the time I saw the DVD for sale in a video store, it occurred to me that I was now a middle-aged man who had managed to sit through the likes of “Last House on the Left” and “Bloodsucking Freaks” without ill effects, so I was probably mature enough to handle Walt Disney’s “Pinocchio”. I bought it, watched it and absolutely loved it, donkeys and all. I marveled at things I never knew were in the movie, like the animated mechanical clocks in the opening scene. Over and over I found myself echoing Jiminy Cricket: “Wow! What they can’t do these days!” The Disney features that I saw as a child will always have a special place in my heart, but then so does the one that I didn’t see until I was in my fifth decade. It was well worth the wait, and I wish I hadn’t waited so long.
My wife has pointed out to me that the only female characters in “Pinocchio” are a fairy who grants men wishes, and flirtatious marionettes manipulated by a male puppeteer. Evidently feminist criticism of Disney is by no means confined to its Princesses franchise. I wonder if anyone has ever conceived of a gender-swapping reboot of “Pinocchio”, as has been done with “Ghostbusters” et al. What would a Pleasure Island for bad girls be like? The mind reels….
There almost WAS a Bad Girl. “Pinocchio: The Making of the Disney Epic” describes a planned sequence in which Jiminy is lured by a sexy black widow spider to her web — but retreats when he notices an empty suit of clothes similar to his own.
I adore Pinocchio. Though not my favorite animated film (that goes to The Rescuers), it objectively has the most beautiful animation ever put on celluloid. Only real problem I have with the movie is the ultra-realistic Blue Fairy. I think the animators by this point could handle Humans and didn’t need to “Snow Whititize” anything anymore. And speaking of Humans they were probably never animated better after this movie. They are “caricatured” but not Yosemite Sam either; they are enough cartoon to be taken seriously.
An overlooked aspect of the movie and many other Disney musicals from the “classic era” is that the songs advance the story (as in how giving a little whistle served as a plot device). I feel like post-Mermaid Disney films just shove in songs to sell records, with the other studios following suit. I will be positive and say they produced better songs than they do now!
Even as a big Fred Moore fan I’ve got to for once say that Kahl’s Pinocchio was a stroke of genius. Sorry, Freddy!
I would disagree about that statement of recent animated films shoving song just to sell records. I feel like they usually help the film and keep it intact.
It’s worth noting that the film’s villains – Foulfellow, Gideon, and the Coachman – receive no retribution or comeuppance for their misdeeds (much like “real life”), and supposedly continue on with their scams and abductions after their screen time has ended. Sure, Stromboli loses his star-attraction meal-ticket, but we don’t get to see his reaction when he discovers Pinoke’s empty birdcage. Much like Eddie Haskell conniving gullible Wally and Beave into some transgression, and remaining unscathed while the boys “catch it” from their wrathful parents. The lesson is clear from either example: YOU do the crime, YOU do the time. Personal responsibility, and all that.
One element that I feel gets overlooked sometimes is just how well-cast the supporting characters in Disney animated films have been since the beginning. I’m talking about folks like Billy Gilbert as Sneezy and, in this film, Walter Catlett and Frankie Darro as Honest John and Lampwick respectively. Performers like these who when you see them in a movie (or early TV show) you say ‘hey, it’s that guy!’ and you know you’re in for an entertaining time and you can’t imagine anyone else playing the role quite like they could.
Quite an astounding and rather daring animated film. It’s no wonder why some of side characters (Jiminy, Figaro) ended up getting new leashes on life after this feature film.
Only 10 more years until this version of Pinocchio is public domain!
No doubt I’m the only one here who has read the original book by Carlo Collodi. It was well over a hundred pages long and had just one picture at the very start. Like L. Frank Baum’s original book of The Wizard of Oz, Pinocchio had dozens of adventures and met many characters that weren’t used in the film version. I daresay in both cases, the book was better than the movie.
Doubt.
There was one of those 100 greatest animated films list a few years back and it was no. 1. I thought, if they feel like it has to be a Disney one in first place, this would be the one.
Even in the years when I hated Disney(probably a lot of my childhood), this was one of their features I made an exception for.
I think monstro the whale is, in a way, an appropriate metaphor for the company now
besides being a really wonderfully animated
movie monster.
One of the strangest places Jiminy showed up was as a co-host for Orson Welles on the radio.
Shame they made that live action remake, which I believe won a razzy and was completely overshadowed by the Guillermo del Toro stop motion version.