Hang on there, kids, I’m an animation nerd and this is an animation book. Lots of film history and unrepentant stanning. Review is long as hell.
I’m several weeks late on reviewing this book, but in my defense, it made my little artist brain emotional and it’s already stressed out trying to survive fascism, so I gave myself a lot of grace. While this book is a memoir by Don Bluth, one of the most well-known directors in the animation industry - maybe even the film industry at large - it’s still rather niche because it’s mostly animation nuts/artists who are going to know to pick this book up. But I honestly wish everyone would, or at least anyone who considers themselves a creative in any way, shape, or form, because this was such a joy for me as a creative person.
I came into this somewhat emotional already, because it’s a first for me reading a book by someone I know in person. I’ve studied animation all my life and was lucky enough to take Don’s yearlong masterclass a few years ago. I was invited back for the masterclass in 2023 and have kept in touch since then. Admittedly, Don is nearing 90 years old and has a lot of students, so I don’t know how well he remembers me from time to time, but he’s also very spry for his age - he was up and down across the room all day every day in class without tiring! And his memory is still incredibly sharp; I heard a lot of these stories directly from him during class, and the details matched up perfectly when I sat down to finally read this. After watching him work, listening to him talk, and reading his journey, my admiration and respect for him has only increased; the man is a born storyteller and it shows.
He disparages his only solo writing credit on Thumbelina, but as far as prose goes, he could go the route of literary fiction if he wanted to. Even discounting skill level, his remembering of conversations from eighty-plus years ago alone is impressive. Most artists have humble beginnings, but Don’s origins are especially humble - he grew up in between Texas and Utah in a mostly-poor Mormon family and spent much of his childhood covered in mud while working the farm his family ran, learning early on how much he loved drawing and how little time his day-to-day life allowed for it (we’ve all been there, right?). For a good chunk of his adolescence, he and his family were sharing bathwater after dealing in cow manure all day; to go from that to being one of the most recognizable names in kids’ movies is a journey in and of itself, but what really flavors it is the myriad details Don sprinkles in. There are so many little coming of age stories from before he got to Disney, things like the first girl he ever had a crush on, the teacher who he liked least and the one who inspired him most, his family’s opinions of his “unmanly” hobby, the movies he saw in the 1940’s, the personality of his pet horse. You’d think these things would be distracting from the “when do we get to Disney??” of it all, but all of these little things contributed to making the man who molded our childhoods, and he deftly makes us see why they all mattered. The things that shaped his childhood shaped ours decades later.
The first half of the book deals with his youth and how he went from Utah farm kid to Disney artist, but like I said, the in-betweens (haha, animation reference) are equally interesting. By the time he was in his thirties, Don had done a two-year mission trip to South America, been engaged and been broken up with, climbed the ranks at the studio to become a director before even his seniors, and broken apart from Disney. This was the Hollywood equivalent of the Catholic Church schism; Don was disillusioned with the direction of Disney’s films after the death of Walt and decided to leave mid-production on The Fox and the Hound, taking many of Disney’s young but established artists with him (voluntarily). Don’s a sweet guy and artists are not known for being confrontational, but he doesn’t mince words on the carnivorous nature of the film industry. Standing his ground on the integrity of his work and being bold enough to take on Disney’s ironclad grip in the 80’s and 90’s was not just financially suicidal, but systematically dangerous. A verbal threat from Roy Disney Jr. – word for word, “We will crush you” – is nothing to sneeze at.
In fact, much of his career was more fraught than I’d realized. Financing your own films has always been a trial and I knew he’d gone through a rough patch in the early 90’s with some bombs, and that Anastasia was his last success. The long and short of it is that film is expensive as hell, and almost all of Don’s movies hinged on a wing and a prayer that some money would come through. Despite the monetary handwringing, however, there was still a lot of joy. Don tells us all the stories and gossip, everything from he and Gary Goldman mortgaging their houses to pay for The Sercret of NIMH to Dom DeLuise telling Burt Reynolds to get over himself and stop doing his weird “dog voice” for Charlie in All Dogs Go To Heaven. Angela Lansbury packs her own brown bag lunch for the studio and Michael Jackson spent years calling Don in the middle of the night with plot ideas. There’s fun trivia tidbits for every 90’s film aficionado here, even some great intel for us Anastasia lovers (i.e. Meg Ryan and John Cusack were so good, they let them record together instead of the usual separation. The chemistry was real, y’all.)
The best gems of the book come from Don’s sharp and often poignant observation of the film industry, and of the turbulence of a creative mind. One I loved was from the development of The Secret of NIMH, where “some investors fretted about the ferocity of Justin and Jenner’s battle. ‘It’s not Disney,’ they complained. ‘Well, Walt’s Queen wanted to murder Snow White,’ I’d remind them. ‘That’s Disney.’” Don’s always been known to go for the jugular with his films, keeping his villains terrifying and his heroes’ losses devastating beyond the death scene to the point of wrecking children everywhere – because that’s how you up the stakes.
It’s an honest take to insist that presenting monsters in all their horror makes the vanquishing of them all the more meaningful. Despite the significance of the softening a film’s teeth for easier access to the almighty dollar, this is the real juice behind a good story, not the potential of its profits. For any and all of the faults of some of his more middling films, that’s a truth that Don has stuck by.
It’s a pretty close to perfect memoir, with Don’s reflections creating a thoughtful narrative throughout his life, but I feel I should forewarn any readers that Don’s Mormon faith does inform a lot of his thinking, and for those who find that kind of thinking tedious, this may come off preachy from time to time. Personally, I found thoughts in that vein that made sense to me, even though I’m not Mormon. Sometimes it was painfully apparent that Don’s ambition was set to burn bridges or even make his personal life harder than it needed to be. But Don’s pretty self-aware and that comes across in his admissions that this was too important to him to pull back. And I get it - creativity is so intrinsic that it feels like betraying yourself if you don’t follow through at whatever cost. For better or worse, Don follows his gut.
Near the end of the book, Don recounts his first visit back to the Walt Disney Animation Studios after more than forty years, where he saw old friends still doing traditional animation work alongside the newbies putting the finishing touches on Wreck-It Ralph 2. He stopped by and visited a replica of Walt’s old office (his description of his first time meeting Walt – accidentally knocking into him while playing volleyball on the back lot – is straight up cinematic). News starts to spread that he’s in the building, and before long Don is surrounded by young animators telling him which movies of his inspired them to work in animation.
I’m only slightly embarrassed to admit I teared up here, not just to see how far his legacy has stretched, but also to see how alike we are. I’ve been to the WDA studios too, and seeing the moviemaking process at work and its history painted on the walls was equally moving for me. Our rather obsessive love of this filmmaking medium is maybe a little maudlin, but it comes from the heart and has never been better exemplified in a book. Don put it best on the last page: ”The question I’ve been asked all my career is, ‘Why did you leave Disney?’ I always answered that I came to a crossroads in my life. That my creativity felt stifled, and I wanted to champion animation that had inspired me growing up. I felt that animation couldn’t be found in the Disney Studio anymore – that Walt’s spirit had left Disney. Yet in the hallways during our visit, I’d felt a spirit. Not Walt’s, but a kindred spirit in the legendary animators who were still working for Disney and the young animators clicking their mouses. Who knows where that spirit will take animation in the years to come? I hope I’m alive to see it.”
I hope he is, too. Wherever it ends up, he helped drive it there. He deserves it.