If you are a loyal Lineboil reader, and therefore a dedicated fan of animation, I’ll sum up this review for you in 5 words:

Go see Waking Sleeping Beauty (opens in a limited theatrical run this Friday).

There are so many reasons to see this documentary by director Don Hahn (producer of several Disney features including Beauty and the Beast), who brings us a candid look inside the Magic Kingdom from the early 80s to the mid 90s. As Roger Rabbit would say, “let me count the ways…” One is that you’ll see handheld documentary footage of storyboard readings, staff meetings and voice recording sessions at Disney Animation. Two is that it challenges our pre-conceived notions of how executives and creatives work together. Three is that you’ll gain a level of understanding about Disney’s Second Renaissance you never had before.

Apparently the cameras were always on at Disney Animation. Though a good chunk of the documentary is told in still pictures — including hilarious caricatures drawn by the animators at the time, illustrating the creative tensions behind the scenes — a good half of the film is culled together with home movie footage. (One of the camera men? None other than John Lasseter.) This creates a very intimate effect. For an hour and a half, you really feel like you’re inside “Mousewitz,” experiencing the heartbreaking staff meetings and over-the-top office parties. Hahn’s insider knowledge of the subject matter and smart storytelling creates a more immersive experience than a lot of 3D animated movies.

From Termite Terrace to Adult Swim, the story usually goes: the executives leave the creatives alone and suddenly they produce incredible work. Waking Sleeping Beauty challenges that idea. In 1984, Disney Animation was left completely alone by executives, making it a leper colony of sorts on the lot. The young artists, like Tim Burton, Ron Clements and John Musker, had a lot of youthful creative energy, but felt stifled by Walt’s 9 Old Men animators, who completely ran the show. At the time, Disney Animation was producing bombs like The Black Cauldron. In this case, an animation studio suffered without studio intervention.

Hollywood outsiders like Jeffrey Katzenberg and Michael Eisner were brought in to pull purse strings and turn this creative chaos into a movie-making powerhouse. However, show biz bitterness, intense rivalries and a drive for fame end up turning the House of Mouse into a war zone. As the movies get better and better, Roy Disney’s chosen executives end up battling more and more fiercely. The animators, who at the beginning of the film are playing music together and staging a reenactment of Apocalypse Now in the offices, end up with Carpal Tunnel and no family lives. Sure, they had classics like The Little Mermaid and Aladdin on their reels, but they were burning out fast.

The filmmakers describe the early 90s as a “perfect storm” of bold executives and creative talent. “Storm” is an apt analogy, because while they were able to create some of the medium’s all-time classics, the war of egos wrecked people’s lives. The film gives you a greater appreciation for Walt Disney. In the film, it’s pointed out that many hardworking people deserved more credit than they got working under Walt Disney, because Walt was always there to soak up the spotlight. Perhaps that’s a necessity. In this heated business, if you don’t have one charismatic leader, either creative or executive, the result can be a storm of egos.

At the eye of that storm was the songwriting team of Howard Ashman and Alan Menken. Bringing the tenets of musical theater to Disney Animation was really the spark that made everything click for The Little Mermaid and subsequent films. Ashman’s death in 1991, right before the premiere of Beauty and The Beast, had a profound impact on everyone at Disney. You could argue, after watching this film, that Ashman was the quiet creative leader who is truly the heart of these movies.

I will point out here that there are two glaring omissions from film. One is a clear explanation for how the creative team created the “smoother” look-and-feel for The Little Mermaid (and subsequent films), which is a big visual leap forward from Oliver & Company or The Great Mouse Detective. More importantly, the movie is missing a true denoument. This is the story about a storm, but we never get a peak at the wreckage following The Lion King. A little bit about what was missing from films like Pocahontas and Hunchback of Notre Dame would go a long way in understanding what was special about 1989-1994.

However, these are minor complaints. Watching this documentary made me want to revisit the early 90s Disney catalogue with brand new eyes. Knowing about all the toil, sacrifice and painful memories that surrounds these films makes them even more astounding. If you’re a fan of animation, and want a realistic look at what goes on behind the scenes, then Waking Sleeping Beauty simply can’t be missed.

Part 1

Part 2 – some footage of the Gleebees, and a recounting of how Morph came to be