The rest of the film follows Pinocchio as he succumbs time and time again to the human temptations of fame, glory, and the easy way out. Childlike and literally new to the world, Pinocchio is easily tempted, often because he is convinced that he is doing the “right thing,” which makes him easy prey for con artists like Honest John (Walter Catlett) and hucksters like the traveling gypsy Stromboli (Charles Judels), both of whom promise Pinocchio great things that never quite happen. Although not as blatantly didactic as the original story, Pinocchio’s recurrent narrative motif of temptation followed by punishment is clear enough and takes the film into some decidedly dark territory, especially when you consider that the victim of the film’s violence is, for all intents and purposes, a child.

Chief among these is the disturbing, uneasy sequence in which Pinocchio is lured to a place call Pleasure Island along with countless other young boys. At first, it is darkly comical, as the young boys are given free reign to do whatever they want, which, for young boys, involves eating cake, drinking beer, smoking cigars, and destroying things (perhaps the most unsettling thing about the sequence is what it suggests about fundamental human nature freed from any restraints, as if Disney were making his own version of Lord of the Flies a decade and a half before that book’s publication). Directors Hamilton Luske and Ben Sharpsteen (who worked separately on many of Disney’s other animated classics, including Fantasia, Dumbo, Cinderella, Peter Pan, and Lady and the Tramp) slowly build levels of unease, suggesting with ominous imagery that something is not right.

We finally learn the horrible truth—that Pleasure Island is an elaborate trap and the boys are being transformed into donkeys and sold to salt mines and circuses—when Pinocchio’s new friend, the obnoxious, overly confident Lampwick (Frankie Darro), is transformed into a pathetic, braying jackass in a shadowy sequence that would be perfectly at home in an expressionistic horror movie. The scene is rough and disturbing, but the most unsettling thing about it is that it is never resolved. That is, the boys of Pleasure Island are never rescued, and we are left to assume that they spend the rest of their lives unhappily slaving in the salt mines. (If Pinocchio were made today, the filmmakers would almost certainly feel an imperative to send the hero back to rescue them at the end of the film.)

Yet, Pinocchio constantly balances its darker elements with moments of humor and wit, most of which comes from Pinocchio’s “conscience,” a thoroughly modern and wise-cracking, but ultimately humble and attentive cricket named Jiminy (Cliff Edwards), who implores to the audience at the beginning of the film that we should believe in the magic of wishing upon a star. Jiminy is one of Disney’s more memorable creations—far from just a sidekick, he is the story’s narrator and the crucial link between the film and the audience (he often breaks the fourth wall by speaking directly to the viewer, something that was quite rare in 1940s cinema).

Of course, part of the film’s pleasure is its visual appeal, having been brought to life with some of the most beautiful animation ever committed to film. Completely hand-drawn in the days before computer effects, Pinocchio is a dazzling mixture of realism and impressionism, replete with striking colors and exquisite characterizations. The artists play with elements of light and shadow, and they create vivid, three-dimensional landscapes in which the animated characters interact. One of the film’s most striking innovations was a multiplane camera that allowed the artists to create a shifting three-dimension space, best exemplified in a stunning tracking shot early in the film in which the camera moves through Gepetto’s small town, slipping under arches and winding down streets, which are populated with dozens of individual characters. It’s the kind of sequence that makes it easy to forget you’re watching an animated film.

Pinocchio ends with a particularly memorable action sequence, with Pinocchio and Jiminy Cricket venturing into the ocean to save Gepetto from the belly of Monstro, an enormous and menacing whale. Watch the sequence carefully and note all the loving attention the artists have given to the ways in which waves and ocean currents move and the manner in which they render sunlight dancing on the ocean floor. This is a film that was put together with care and loving attention to detail, and not a single frame fails to captivate.

Copyright © 2017 James Kendrick

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