The Animation Masterpieces of Rankin and Bass (Part 3 of 3): The Flight of Dragons

So, today is my third and final post of "The Animation Masterpieces of Rankin and Bass." This evening I conclude with reviewing The Flight of Dragons. If you're interested in my previous reviews, then here are the links!


The Hobbit (1977)
The Last Unicorn (1982)

And now--The Flight of Dragons

Of the three Rankin and Bass animation masterpieces I’ve reviewed over the past days, this is my favorite.

Unlike The Hobbit, which was a made for television movie, or, The Last Unicorn, which was released in theaters, The Flight of Dragons was released straight to video in 1982.

I find this intriguing because you would think the best of the three would have the widest public release. Not so. According to my personal opinion, it’s the other way around.

Unlike The Hobbit and The Last Unicorn, this film isn’t based on a single work. It doesn’t have a “primary text,” if you will, to accurately relate or deviate from. It’s based on other works, but it is a mixture of two: (1) the “speculative natural history” book titled Flight of Dragons (1979) by Peter Dickinson, and (2) the novel, The Dragon and the George (1976), by Gordon R. Dickson. I’m not familiar with either of these works (though I wish I was). Needless to say, the narrative of this film is unique and not one that precedes its production.

Some brief plot summary: the film concerns the adventures of a former biology student turned fantasy novelist / fantasy game maker. He creates a very “Dungeons and Dragons” type game and a world to go along with it. And, through some various magical happenings, he gets whisked away to the fantasy world he created. There he finds out that he is the champion of this world. He has to fight an evil necromancer named Ommadon (voiced by James Earl Jones). The story is filled with dragons, elves, rangers, knights, magical spells, fairies, slime worms, dreary taverns, etc..

On the level of plot, it’s very thrilling.

But the plot is not the only thing that endears me to this film. Let me just list some of the elements that make it a masterpiece.

The animation style: Rankin and Bass’s unique animation style comes through here. Slightly strange, borderline grotesque, the artistic style creates a tension between the real world elements the drawings are derived from and the abstractions the drawings are supposed to represent. Thus, there is a kind of rawness / baseness to it.

The drawings are stylized, for sure, but the nature of the stylization is such that it might even be described as a resistance to stylization. In other words, the artists strived for reality while realizing that reality was beyond the pale of animation. In other animated films, artists seem to abstain from any ambition to “realistically” represent something. And in this way you get the “four-fingered” hands of so much animation / cartoons.

The voice acting: There is some strange voice acting in this film, but it endears me to it. Particularly, the voice actor who plays the voice of the Princess character, Millisande, is quite awkward yet completely satisfying for its mystical, almost recitative quality. Also, the voice actor who relates the character of Smrgol the Dragon—James Gregory—is brilliant! He’s an old dragon, tired out by life, and the husky voice no-nonsense delivery completely communicates this. John Ritter does the voice of the main character, Peter Dickinson, and he ramps up the nerdy quality of his voice to the extreme. And, of course, James Earl Jones as the archvillain is just brilliant. He evil laughter is pure art.

The thematic content: For a kid’s film, this flick engages with some serious philosophical issues. Ultimately, this film is about the conflict between magic and science, empiricism and emotion, two fundamentally distinct ways of understanding the world. Without giving away too much of the plot, the main character becomes the avatar for reason and logic, science and math; thus, the baddies become the representatives of superstition, magic, fear, and other emotional ways of coming to terms with the world.

Spoiler alert: It’s a strange twist, but the main character’s quest ultimately preserves “the magical realm,” which is an absolute incongruity considering his way of understanding the world necessarily undermines it.

But I forgive this film this as it really begs the question, “Are our imaginations and flights of fancy, our impulses toward wonder and beautiful ignorance necessarily incompatible with the scientific endeavor? Is there something worthwhile is hearing “a god’s anger” in the thunder rather than, say, “the manifestation of a meteorological phenomenon?” Is there something lost when we “unweave” the rainbow?

The film doesn’t answer this rich question. It’s the source of its aesthetic power is that is even raises it.

The Animation Masterpieces of Rankin and Bass (Part 2 of 3): The Last Unicorn

 My wife is currently in the midst of taking her qualifying exams for her Ph.D.. And so, last night, I atavistically devolved into a little child: I was relegated to our bedroom with a pot of decaf, some cookies, and a DVD copy of Rankin and Bass’s masterpiece, The Last Unicorn.

And now, having had breakfast at a local breakfast joint, Kalie’s Family Restaurant, a couple of real cups of coffee, I’m now poised and ready to continue my series, The Animation Masterpieces of Rankin and Bass.

For those of you who are interested, in my previous post, I reviewed Rankin and Bass’s animated adaption of The Hobbit. Tomorrow I’m going to review my personal favorite, the less widely known flick, The Flight of Dragons.

But first, The Last Unicorn. Be forwarned. This review is a little different. I don’t say anything about the film’s style. Thus, it is more a nostalgic remembrance/homage to it, a sentimental remembrance of the lesson I took away from it as a kid.

I’m not going to waste time summarizing the classic work this film is based on, Peter S. Beagle’s novel of the same name. It appears on many “best works of modern fantasy” lists and is widely considered to be part of the fantasy canon (right next to, say, J.R.R. Tolkien and Ursula K. LeGuin). Suffice it to say this is the story of the last unicorn in the world and her attempt to bring unicorns back.

Let me be clear: this isn’t the most “macho” of movies. It’s a love story about a unicorn. When I was first introduced to this movie (around 10), I felt slightly reluctant to watch it, pressured as I was to love football, baseball, wrestling, and camping and not Atari. How I got over this feeling, came to love unicorns, is an important part of this review/homage.

I remember: when I first saw The Last Unicorn it was broadcast on television, and I was irritated by how the wizard looked: Schmendrick the Magician had teeny-tiny legs, NO BEARD, and was wearing tights! This disturbed me because as a little kid because I had a very clear idea of what wizards were supposed to look like: long gray beards, pointy hats, robes with stars and moons on them.

As I watched, however, I made this connection, came to terms with the irritation Schmendrick’s appearance caused me, and thereby glimpsed the simple yet powerful “message” of the film: “appearances” and are often deceiving.

Sure, you may think a 10 year old is too little to extrapolate “messages” or “lessons” from stories. I beg to differ. I think "sponge-minded" kids are often much more inclined to try to seek out a didactic message or “point,” if you will, in the media they consume than us "rock-minded" jaded adults. That being neither here nor there, trust me on this: I got it. The message of the film, that is. That appearances on deceiving.

In spite of the fact that Schmendrick looked like a twerpy sort of guy, he was actually a powerful magician. In spite of the fact that “Lady Amalthea” looked like a beautiful human princess, she was really a unicorn. Consider the entire sequence of Mommy Fortuna’s circus. Some summary: this witch lady has all of these animals—a lion, a snake, a monkey—bespelled to look like creatures from mythology. People fall into the trap of her illusion and believe in them. I won’t give away a cool part of the film, where one creature—who, like the others, appears to be a creature of mythology—actually is one. But, here we have it again, the message: appearances are deceiving.

Through some twist of thought I applied this lesson to the film and as a little kid I began to happily celebrate unicorns, to doodle them in my notebooks, to draw them shooting lasers out of their eyes.

My logic, though not as elegantly put, went something like this: you, sir, may think unicorns are just for girls. But, sir, they aren’t. They’re awesome. They’re a symbol for how the surface of the world is an illusion. And that there are other things, beyond what we can glimpse with our senses, that are sometimes more and sometimes less fantastical than this life.

In reality it probably went something more like this: I like unicorns, so @#$% you.

Pretty deep thoughts for a little kid. You can believe it. Or not. But take this story of my first experience with the film as a testimony to its artistic power. It was powerful enough to make a little, self-conscious, asthmatic kid afraid of being called a nerd (who is now quite happy to accept that appellation) come to love unicorns as a kind of protest.

The Animation Masterpieces of Rankin and Bass (Part 1 of 3): The Hobbit

Today I want to do something significantly less academic. I’m reviewing one of my favorite films, Rankin and Bass’s, The Hobbit. This will be the first of a series of reviews. I'm going to review two more Rankin and Bass films, which I believe are masterpieces. And so, you know which way the reviews are going to go. Think of them as less reviews and more homages. To two films I aim to celebrate in the coming weeks are Flight of Dragons (1982) and The Last Unicorn (1982).

This is a great film filled with adventure, excitement, wonder, and, believe it or not, action (it was 1977 and swordfights and stabbing giant spiders was still o.k. for wee folks).

I don’t think I need to summarize the widely known plot of The Hobbit, which is very much hewed to by this film. That’s perhaps one of the greatest characteristics of this film: its commitment to accurately relating the plot of the novel. I can’t think of any glaring revision and only one omission (spoiler: the Beorn episode before Bilbo and the dwarfs enter Mirkwood is left out).

To begin, there’s some strange quality about Rankin and Bass’s animation style. It has an authenticity, a kind of realism, that other animation styles (say, for example, Disney’s style in The Black Cauldron), completely lack. There’s a strangeness to the way certain things are drawn. For example, the wood elves. Their legs are really long. They have green skin. Their features are inhuman: wide cheek-bones, flat brows. In juxtaposition to the humans that appear in this film, they look completely different; indeed, they look like a completely different species.

The voice acting, too, is wonderful. John Huston as the voice of Gandalf is absolutely amazing. His smoky, intense voice relates a sense of wisdom and knowledge of other worlds. There’s a kind of tone to his expression, a steadiness that makes it seem as if he is reciting his dialog or expressing an incantation as opposed to merely speaking. Usually this would probably be chalked up to bad voice acting, hewing too closely to “reading the script” as opposed to “acting the script”. But, for Gandalf, it truly works.

Other memorable voices are Brother Theodore’s voice for Gollum. Brother Theodore shows up in a lot of Rankin and Bass’s productions. His strained, high accented voice, sounds exotic and otheworldly. And his screaming of, “Baggins! We hates it! Forever!” kind of creeped me out as a kid. I remember him as the assistant, Ruhk, to Mommy Fortuna in Rankin and Bass’s famous adaptation of Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn.

The music is worth mentioning. It has a very “1970s folk musicy” feel to it that I love. Many of the songs are adaptations of songs written by Tolkien (lyrics only, of course); and to this day, when I’m reading through The Hobbit, I read the lyrics with those melodies in mind.

A more subtle characteristic endears me to this film: its color palette. I don’t know if it’s just my old VHS, but there is a subdued quality to the film’s color palette. The range of colors is softer, more natural, than, say, the intense variety of a Disney film, even an early one like Snow White. I’m not going to try and explain why, but I prefer this subdued color palette. It truly creates a wonderful effect. An important character in The Hobbit is the wildland itself; and when the large natural vistas are portrayed—forests, river valleys, the desolation of Smaug—their coloring and the fine detail of their rendering makes them feel authentic.

The best compliment I can make of this film is that my wife and I, both adults, fall asleep to this film whenever we’ve had a stressful day. It’s an enduring source of comfort, a true "safety-blanket" of a movie, that, through some strange alchemy of the right style of animation, the right voice actors, and the right music, truly stirs in me a sense of wonder.