Disney + Dads II: Electric Bugaloo

In last week's brilliant, groundbreaking and award-winning post, we established a solid baseline of SUCK in the Disney dad pantheon. In movie after movie, we found a cartoon landscape littered with weak father figures, dead or missing mothers, pubescent princesses bursting free from the surly bonds of girlhood, and a clusterfuck menagerie of anthropomorphicized critters, household objects and magical fauna.

Shall we explore further? We shall. We shall.

• Peter Pan
Antidisirregardless of one's feelings about eternal childhood, crass racial stereotyping and man-eating crocodiles, there's one thing that can't be denied about Peter Pan: it's one of Disney's most explicit swipes at the institution of fatherhood. Because while it is the rare Disney cartoon that features a fully-functional, nuclear-style family - replete with two living, present parents - it undermines that structure right from the start... and then torpedoes it completely with a subtle act of brilliant evil.

The movie opens with the Darling family - Mom, Dad, Wendy, the boys and their creepy nurse/dog - one evening in London. The kids are getting ready for bed, and the parents are getting ready for a night out. The mother? Caring, beautiful, and largely a figurehead (insofar as that she appears to have ceded most of her active duties to the aforementioned nurse/dog). The father? A blowhard, given toward sudden bursts of anger and outrage, and clearly regarded as an object of scorn and mockery by his family. As we watch, his attempts to get ready for a hot date with the Mrs. rapidly devolve into a shouting match with his kids, wherein his demands that his daughter grow up and move out of the nursery result in him being violently assaulted via slapstick. In short: Daddy Darling is set up as a villain.

Of course, that's all just exposition — the bulk of the story comes immediately afterwards, when Peter Pan and Tinker Bell come along and rescue the children from their understandably frustrated father by whisking them off to Never-Never Land, a magical place where they can be stalked by murderous pirates. Which is always fun. But it's in the characters of the murderous pirates themselves - in particular, lead psychopath and famed amputee Captain Hook - that we find the subliminal coup de gras in Disney's anti-father stance.

Why? Because Captain Hook - a criminal and killer so vile that we actively root for the bloodthirsty crocodile that chases him across this violently mythic setting - is voiced by the same actor who provides the vocals for Mr. Darling. Let me repeat that: Captain Hook and Mr. Darling = same voice = same person.

To be honest, I relate to Mr. Darling in a lot of ways: he's a goofy-looking guy married to a hot girl, with three kids he can't control and who - as a product of all these things - ends up feels frustrated a lot of the time. But his kids view him as the enemy, and that POV extrapolates to the point where his voice is projected onto the misshapen killer who proceeds to hunt young Wendy, Peter and John from one end of Never-Never Land to the other. And if that's not the definition of FAIL... I don't know what is.

• Cinderella
Well, this here's a different kettle of fish altogether. The father in Cinderella appears only in the brief expository bit at the beginning of the movie — where we discover that there was some landed gentry dude who had a beautiful daughter named Cinderella (and, presumably, a dead wife), who then married another noble-type (with two girls of her own) so as to provide her with a viable mother figure... and who then died, leaving her in the clutches of a horrifyingly bitter and vengeful stepmother and stepsisters.

As the movie progresses, Cinderella's near-beatific ability to overlook the harsh realities of her life and instead find beauty, love and a reason for hope in even the most dire circumstances may in some ways be seen as an expression of the kindness and love that dead dad (and possibly dead mom) instilled in her either via nature or nurture. Which is good: score one for dead dad. On the other hand... her life is an ongoing exercise in emotional/psychological torture provided by the same people dead dad brought in to take care of her. Which is a pretty strong indictment of dead dad's decision-making and judgment skills.

In the finale, she ends up happy: she lands a Prince Charming-type who juxtaposes boyish handsomeness with a fatherish promise of lifelong "I will take care of you" security — while the evil stepbitches are presumably relegated to a life in either a) poor standing with the royal court (unlikely); b) exile (still too easy); or c) chains - rusty, scratchy chains, at that - hidden in the most disgusting subterranean dungeons beneath the sparkling magic castle. I'm a vengeful type, so you can guess where my vote lies. It's because of this - and because even though he put her on a childhood road to hell, it was one paved with good intentions - Cinderella's dead dad gets the DadCentric seal of approval. Grade: PASS.

• The Jungle Book
This is a weird one, because Mowgli's actual father is dead and gone before the movie even begins — but the film goes on to provide us with a long list of potential surrogate paternal types. You start off with the very serious-minded black panther (no, not a "sorry I had a fight in the middle of your Black Panther party" black panther), who quickly turns out to be more of a disapproving tight-assed grandfatherly type than anything else. Then Mowgli meets an elephant - a troop leader, at that - who seems to be a great candidate: strong, smart, steady, reliable. But the elephant rejects him. Fucking elephant.

This leads young Mowgli straight into the arms of Baloo the Bear (and no, I can't explain why a bear is living in the jungle... although apparently there is some factual basis for it), who we at first see as great fit... before quickly realizing that Baloo isn't a father figure as much as he's a fun uncle who drinks too much: lots of laughs and always a great time, but ultimately dangerously irresponsible. Sorry, Baloo. The jungle bear's incompetence leads Mowgli into the arms of King Louie the orangutan, who initially seems like a decent fit (what with the whole evolution/sharing 95% of DNA thing) until Disney makes it clear that the jazz-loving ape (oops... guess we're right back to the aforementioned crass racial stereotyping issue) only wants to use Mowgli towards his own selfish ends.

There's also a tiger named Shere Khan, but he spends most of the movie trying to eat Mowgli, thereby making him even less appropriate for fatherhood than me.

In summary, lots of candidates... no winners. Grade: FAIL.

• One Hundred and One Dalmatians
This is the great and glorious exception to the anti-fatherhood screed of the Disney canon: a movie that not only stands as the most visually fascinating thing the company ever produced, but one that offers not one but TWO strong, positive father figures. To whit (by which I don't mean... never mind):

A) Roger
Roger is the human father of the piece, and while he doesn't actually produce any human offspring over the course of the movie he is, clearly, ideal father material. Passionate about his family, human and canine. Able and willing to defend them against even the most intimidating antagonists (and let's be clear: Cruella de Vil? Best. Disney. Villain. Ever.) When times are tough, Roger stands up strong — hell, the dalmatian birth scene, when Roger basically brings a puppy back to life? That's badass dad skillz, right there. And when the title number of dalmatianss shows up and infests his house like spotted, tail-wagging locusts? The man doesn't even blink. Just steps up, takes the bat, faces the high heat... and knocks one out of the park. "We'll buy a big place in the country... a dalmatian plantation!"

B) Pongo
I can only dream of being as good a dad as Pongo. When the Mrs. produces an enormous litter of 15 puppies... he's thrilled. It's his dream come true. And he's a great dad – admired and beloved by his kids, able and willing to play with them or guide them as necessary. When Cruella's hired hands kidnap them - in order to skin them alive, let's note - he stops at nothing to track them down and help them get away. In tandem with his equally kickass bride, he braves life-threatening conditions, makes his way halfway across England, then attacks the kidnappers with a righteous ferocity straight out of the Old Testament. And then, as they begin their escape and long trip back to London, he puts his brain to work and devises one strategy after another that allows them to avoid the clutches and knives of Cruella and her minions.

In short, Pongo is one of the great fathers in movie history.

Grade: HUGE PASS.

(Disney must have hated it.)