Deconstructing “Dumbo” (1941)

Believe it or not, this is my first post dedicated to single Walt Disney feature. I’ve given many of them attention on Travalanche, but usually in the context of broader topics. I’m going to post a finding aid that lays them all out for easy access in a few weeks. But Dumbo (1941) seems to merit a special spotlight due to its referencing of two vintage Americal theatrical forms (circus and minstrelsy) and the fact that we have written about most of the performers who provided voice talent.

Circus culture was still very much a fact of American life when Dumbo came out, although many of the largest shows had already merged to form RBBB. Scenes of roustabouts pitching the big tent, and of dedicated circus trains travelling from town to town were familiar to young and old alike. The title of the film and name of the main character reference the legendary elephant circus star Jumbo, who still lived on in popular memory at the time.

The film’s storyline, adapted from a childen’s book by the husband-wife team of Helen Aberson and Harold Pearl, has much in common with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (a perceived deformity proves to be an asset) and Harold Lloyd’s Grandma’s Boy (the hero is given confidence by a “lucky charm” which actually has no magical properties.) It concerns a baby elephant with ears so large that they enable him to fly. For much of the film it is a latent ability, then a secret one, and finally, triumphantly a public one. But before that moment of giddy triumph, he must endure the ridicule of nearly everyone he meets.

Like the great silent clowns (Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Harpo Marx), Dumbo is a magical mute, giving him a sweetness that enlists our sympathy. Thankfully he is watched over by the streetwise Timothy Q. Mouse (Edward Brophy) a definite retread of Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio (1940). Verna Felton voiced Dumbo’s loving mother as well as the detestable Elephant Matriarch. Others in the cast included Herman Bing as the Ringmaster, Sterling Holloway as the nervous Stork who belatedly delivers baby Dumbo, and Billy Bletcher, Jack Mercer, Thurl Ravenscroft, and Pineapple Jackson in smaller roles.

Though fully in keeping with mainstream mores of the time, the film’s racial depictions are nowadays troubling to many. There are two groups of “black” characters. The first are the circus roustabouts (work that was often, though not exclusively, performed by African Americans), played by the all-white King’s Men (quite a different Kingsmen from the ones who sang “Louie Louie”). The other group are the stereotyped chorus of crows, led by the white Cliff Edwards (who’d also been Jiminy Cricket) as a minstrel character, with the others played by James Baskett (later to play Uncle Remus in Song of the South), Nick Stewart of Amos and Andy, Hall Johnson (with his choir supplying singing vocals) and Jim Carmichael (one of the animators at Disney who was drafted for the role).

The crow characters do a lot of shuckin’ and jivin’, but the reality, I think is more nuanced than most commentators care to deal with. As my old NYU professor John Canemaker has pointed out they’re the most admirable characters in the film. They accept Dumbo, whom everyone else regards as a freak, and literally teach him how to fly, which is his super power. Whoopi Goldberg has gone on record as being among their fans. (On the other hand, she’s the one who encouraged Ted Danson to do his blackface number at that infamous Friar’s Club roast, so maybe her judgment isn’t the best). The general objection (which I certainly hear) is that the crows are presented as unsophisticated characters who speak in jazzbo slang or whatever. It is especially objectionable to have white actors doing that. But it was the standard then (albeit a racist standard) so I’m uncertain of the value of singling this film out in particular when most other Hollywood films of the time display the same defect. Also it’s about circus elephants! That’s cruelty and torture, right? I mean, you could always boycott all movies made before 1965? I’m sure today’s young people pretty much do that anyway.

Further, as I point out in The Marx Brothers Miscellany with regard to similar characters in A Day at the Races and At the Circus, it’s complicated by the positive fact that black talent was included at all (unlike most Hollywood films at the time) and I’d bet even money the performers enjoyed working on it. Which is further complicated by the fact that they’re uncredited. And their great grandchildren probably hate the depictions. But what were they going to do in 1941, write W.E.B. Dubois into Dumbo? Still they might have done better. Hall Johnson was a highly respected musical figure in his day — his participation in the film ought to have been better honored. Just one idea: Timothy Mouse seems to be in the circus’s band. See his uniform? Johnson might have played him, in the spirit of P.G. Lowery. You’d still be stuck with a “Magical Negro” sidekick (not unlike Eddie Murphy as Shrek‘s Donkey) but there’d be more glory in it. (An irrelevant tidbit, but interesting in this context: there was a lot of cross-fertilization between circuses and minstrel shows in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Some performers, black and white, worked in both forms, and some impresarios produced both kinds of shows).

Lastly, a shout out for the songs, penned by lyricist Ned Washington, with music by Frank Churchill and Oliver Wallace. The highlights are the witty “When I See an Elephant Fly”, the one most people have in their heads after watching the film, and the hallucinatory “Pink Elephants on Parade”. I’m a huge fan of that whole trippy “Pink Elephants” section.

As for the art and animation? Oustide my wheelhouse (ar, ar! That’s a “Steamboat Willie” reference, that is!)

For more on show business history please see my book No Applause, Just Throw Money: The Book That Made Vaudeville Famous.