Lady and the Tramp (1955)

Almost all of the early Disney animated films were adaptations of fairytales or popular children’s literature. One odd exception is Lady and the Tramp, which is instead an original story conceived by  Disney legend Joe Grant who built the narrative up around the the observation that he and his wife stopped paying as much attention to their dog after their real baby was born. If this story would have been conceived of in today’s culture maybe the dog would have had a fair shot at familial supremacy but suffice it to say that, at the time, dog’s weren’t people....in fact, we can probably blame THIS movie, and all subsequent anthropomorphized dog movies for the fact that many are those among us who just can’t help but feel that their dogs ARE people. But let’s not worry about that right now.
 

Joe Grant played a major role in the creative development of some of Disney’s greatest movies, both old and less old.  He worked on Snow White, Pinocchio, Fantasia, and Dumbo early in his career, mainly as a story-boarder. Then he retired from Disney after WW2 to start his own business but eventually came back in 1989! What did he work on then? Beauty and the Beast, among other things. The guy lived until 2005 and even then he died while drawing in his studio. That’s dedication. I think.

Anyway, so this film is a story built around an amalgam of the insights of dog lover’s like Joe Grant and others hanging around the studio, like Walt Disney. The cute scene where John Dear gives his wife the puppy in a hat box for Christmas? Disney did the very same thing for his wife Lilian in real life. You get the idea. But the narrative isn’t just about a dog who feels saddened by her ontological position in relation to her owner’s newborn child but there is also a Tramp in there too and that aspect of the story was borrowed from an old story in Cosmo magazine about a mischievous yet charming stray dog who went about doing fun dog-like things. Disney bought the rights to the uncredited story and brought the idea to Grant as a way to incorporate a canine love interest for his dog story and, voila, Lady had her tramp. So, yes, this movie exists because two guys at Disney really, really liked their dogs. So what did all this misdirected affection get us as an audience? Something pretty charming. 

 

Lady is a groomed, upper middle class house dog learning to cope with altered familial dynamics after her owners, who had previously been strictly attentive to her, find themselves with better things to do (as I’ve said). Indeed she does come to terms with the new baby and, in fact, the family is not negligent of her after all. But at some point the owners have to go away on a trip, leaving Lady and the baby (yes, the BABY!) at home with cantankerous Aunt Sarah and her two racist Siamese cats, who happen to be singers and, like real cats, full of the devil. There is a grave misunderstanding, Lady is falsely accused and mistreated by Aunt Sarah and runs away where she finds more trouble being alone on the streets until she is finally helped by the charming though unpolished Tramp who takes her on his escapades. The rest of the story is essentially a strangely dramatic doggy romance that climaxes in an appropriately intense, though somewhat disjointed, moment of heroic redemption.

When this came out in 1955 it was at a time when the film critics, fickle and pompous hipsters that they all are, had turned on Disney for being too darned popular. Thus the critical consensus was that this movie was somehow of little artistic merit. Eons later, in the 21st century, it is generally universally acclaimed as a classic and the assertion is fitting. It’s way better than it should be for being the animated equivalent of that stupid “dogs playing poker” painting. You know the one. It’s right next to your portrait of a crying clown. You do have a portrait a crying clown, don’t you? Tell me I’m not the only one!

The animation itself is about as good as anything done before Disney’s death. The dogs move and act almost photo-realistically and yet emote human facial expressions brilliantly when engaged in inter-canine dialogue. The score is sweet and memorable; I sometimes hum “Bella Notte” when I’m drinking (I’d sing it if I spoke Italian).The story, though obviously ad hoc, is charming enough and the happy ending (you know there is one) well deserved. The characters are cute and even the doggy romance can’t be denied for being as touching and well developed as a doggy romance can be. Who doesn’t love the iconic scene where Lady and Tramp accidentally kiss while slurping the same noodle of spaghetti? Only a soulless monster.

It’s not Disney’s greatest movie but it is Disney’s second greatest movie about Dogs. I give it 3.6 bella nottes.