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Authors: Jason Sperb
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attempting to mix its own trademark animation and musical style with the 1930s cycle of Southern melodramas, most popularly realized in Selznick’s
Gone with the Wind
. Even after the film was made, some inside Disney doubted the wisdom of releasing a movie that would be seen as racially problematic, especially at a time when Hollywood and the U.S. federal government had made a conscious effort to empower African Americans by moving away from many of the old cinema stereotypes regarding race. But the film’s own textual negotiation of live action, animation, and an extensive musical soundtrack made
Song of the South
a problematically affective and self-contradictory text from the start. Hence I argue that the film’s inherent textual incoherence would lead to contradictory audience responses in subsequent decades.
Next, in “‘Put Down the Mint Julep, Mr. Disney’: Postwar Racial Consciousness and Disney’s Critical Legacy in the 1946 Reception of
Song of the South
,” I closely examine 1940s periodicals, such as the
Washington Post
, the
Chicago Defender
, and the
New York Times
, to offer the first thorough historical account of the film’s harsh reception in 1946, which was shaped by not only disappointed film critics but also frustrated civil rights groups. I vehemently argue against any modern-day perception that
Song of the South
was ever “just a product of its time.” While the responses were not monolithic among any audience group,
Song of the South
was, overall, criticized at worst and dismissed at best. Film critics, such as Bosley Crowther, were disappointed on not only cultural but also aesthetic grounds, reading the partially animated
Song of the South
as a cheap imitation of what they saw as the usually innovative Disney visual style they had embraced in the 1930s and early 1940s. Cultural critics were even harsher, seeing
Song of the South
as a direct slap in the face to the emergent civil rights movement. Even general film audiences were sensitive to its offensive “Uncle Tom” representations in the immediate aftermath of U.S. racial progress and Nazi white supremacist rhetoric during World War II. Given this response,
Song of the South
was seemingly destined for the dustbin of Hollywood’s racist past by the 1950s. Yet by the early 1970s all that had shifted.
The third chapter, “‘Our Most Requested Movie’: Media Convergence, Black Ambivalence, and the Reconstruction of
Song of the South
,” offers a detailed historical explanation for why
Song of the South
was suddenly regarded as Disney’s “most requested” title by the 1970s. On the one hand, I discuss the decline of the civil rights movement’s institutional power, and the concurrent rise of the conservative white backlash and white flight trends, as documented by Doug McAdam. While white audiences were much more sympathetic to racial inequities right after the sobering Fascist rhetoric and actions of World War II, there was considerably less support by the 1960s. Meanwhile, Disney’s own rise institutionally was just as significant. This chapter offers a historical variation on Gray’s theory of the media paratext, and closely explores how Disney’s long history of media convergence—television shows, children’s books, musical records, and so forth—worked over subsequent decades to resuscitate
Song of the South
’s critical and cultural reputation. Many audiences, some of whom never even saw the film in theaters originally, grew up watching, listening to, and reading Disney’s version of the Brer Rabbit stories in their homes, schools, church youth groups, and so forth. This transmediated presence, throughout the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s, fundamentally altered some audiences’ general perception of the film, shifting from an anachronistic Uncle Tom Hollywood melodrama to the socially constructed perception of its status as a “beloved” Disney family institution. Thus, by the time it reappeared in 1972, especially
Gone with the Wind
. Even after the film was made, some inside Disney doubted the wisdom of releasing a movie that would be seen as racially problematic, especially at a time when Hollywood and the U.S. federal government had made a conscious effort to empower African Americans by moving away from many of the old cinema stereotypes regarding race. But the film’s own textual negotiation of live action, animation, and an extensive musical soundtrack made
Song of the South
a problematically affective and self-contradictory text from the start. Hence I argue that the film’s inherent textual incoherence would lead to contradictory audience responses in subsequent decades.
Next, in “‘Put Down the Mint Julep, Mr. Disney’: Postwar Racial Consciousness and Disney’s Critical Legacy in the 1946 Reception of
Song of the South
,” I closely examine 1940s periodicals, such as the
Washington Post
, the
Chicago Defender
, and the
New York Times
, to offer the first thorough historical account of the film’s harsh reception in 1946, which was shaped by not only disappointed film critics but also frustrated civil rights groups. I vehemently argue against any modern-day perception that
Song of the South
was ever “just a product of its time.” While the responses were not monolithic among any audience group,
Song of the South
was, overall, criticized at worst and dismissed at best. Film critics, such as Bosley Crowther, were disappointed on not only cultural but also aesthetic grounds, reading the partially animated
Song of the South
as a cheap imitation of what they saw as the usually innovative Disney visual style they had embraced in the 1930s and early 1940s. Cultural critics were even harsher, seeing
Song of the South
as a direct slap in the face to the emergent civil rights movement. Even general film audiences were sensitive to its offensive “Uncle Tom” representations in the immediate aftermath of U.S. racial progress and Nazi white supremacist rhetoric during World War II. Given this response,
Song of the South
was seemingly destined for the dustbin of Hollywood’s racist past by the 1950s. Yet by the early 1970s all that had shifted.
The third chapter, “‘Our Most Requested Movie’: Media Convergence, Black Ambivalence, and the Reconstruction of
Song of the South
,” offers a detailed historical explanation for why
Song of the South
was suddenly regarded as Disney’s “most requested” title by the 1970s. On the one hand, I discuss the decline of the civil rights movement’s institutional power, and the concurrent rise of the conservative white backlash and white flight trends, as documented by Doug McAdam. While white audiences were much more sympathetic to racial inequities right after the sobering Fascist rhetoric and actions of World War II, there was considerably less support by the 1960s. Meanwhile, Disney’s own rise institutionally was just as significant. This chapter offers a historical variation on Gray’s theory of the media paratext, and closely explores how Disney’s long history of media convergence—television shows, children’s books, musical records, and so forth—worked over subsequent decades to resuscitate
Song of the South
’s critical and cultural reputation. Many audiences, some of whom never even saw the film in theaters originally, grew up watching, listening to, and reading Disney’s version of the Brer Rabbit stories in their homes, schools, church youth groups, and so forth. This transmediated presence, throughout the 1940s, 1950s, and 1960s, fundamentally altered some audiences’ general perception of the film, shifting from an anachronistic Uncle Tom Hollywood melodrama to the socially constructed perception of its status as a “beloved” Disney family institution. Thus, by the time it reappeared in 1972, especially
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