"How could one man produce so much entertainment that enthralled billions in every part of the world? That is the riddle of Walt Disney's life. His parents were plain people who moved from one section of the country to another in futile search of the American dream. Young Walt showed no brilliance as a student: he daydreamed through his classes...it seems incredible that the unschooled cartoonist from Kansas City, a bankrupt in his first movie venture, could have produced works of unmatched imagination and could even have undertaken the creation of a future city." (1)

For the purposes of this page, only one particular film, Pinocchio, is examined. Select this hyperlink for a fuller biography of Walt Disney.

The entire story of Pinocchio symbolises a transition, via voluntary effort, from a purely material life to one incorporating the intangible, but more rewarding, spiritual dimension. The wooden boy, lacking a moral outlook, (crafted out of wood: a substance incorporating low-level life) is naturally prone to misjudgements which then require additional opportunities to prove himself. He returns again and again to his material condition, each time with a new set of surroundings and characters and opportunities. Pinocchio was written by the Italian Carlo Collodi in the 1800's. But it was Disney's treatment of the story itself, his technical wizardry, and the intense characterisations which gave the story new magic. There was something else too: the tale contains a strong spiritual message, and may be one reason why it has survived intact through the intervening 150 years.

(As an interesting side note, it has been verified (January 2000) that when telling a lie, extra blood does in fact rush to the cartilage at the end of a person's nose..although there is no way Collodi could have known that! This is an example of creativity using symbols not neccessarily recognised by the conscious mind of the writer, which invest the idea with a feeling of "rightness" which no-one can quite put their finger on).

The original version is quite crude, and elements of it have been softened or deepened according to some intuitive knack of Disney's. The well crafted base provides a solid grounding for virtuosity. In this sense, Disney's adaptation faithfully interprets the spirit of the original.

Pinocchio's saving grace is that he means well. Although easily hoodwinked by rogues and villains, and tempted by all the pleasures of his exciting city adventures, he gradually develops a strength of purpose underlined by the view that he should help others.

Other characters are not so lucky, and the story deals harshly with individuals who dumbly submit to constant pleasures: the boys in Happy Land turning gradually into donkeys is a shocking episode, made worse via their wicked and calculated exploitation. Pinocchio only escapes their fate by the intervention of the Blue Fairy.

Skeptics often say that all moral behaviour is only justified by the expediency which living in close quarters with other individuals demands; that unselfishness only works because it produces a benefit provided by like-minded individuals. In their view, it is therefore a form of bartering, an artifice of convenience within society, and contains no absolute basis, and therefore no absolute justification. An extension of this concept is often used to sway crowds and countries when clearly immoral behaviour is called for, to achieve political ends. The 20th century is a perfect example of this.

In Pinocchio, a different view is presented: that moral and immoral behaviour, that truth and lies, create an absolute record ("as plain as the nose on your face") and therefore must reflect a fundamental layer of the world. The concrete reality of wood becoming human is amenable to no human intervention; as an absolute situation it is not subject to justification or interpretation. The transition itself can only be entrusted to a higher form of existence, in this case personified by the Blue Fairy, the angel who somehow retains compassion for Pinocchio while allowing him his free will, so that he can learn from the destructive effects of his own actions.

The Blue Fairy is an intriguing character. She is a tangible surface of the invisible and indescribable spiritual dimension. Disney makes her entirely believable; her animation was achieved through Rotoscoping, or the copying of real people enacting the motions. So, whether deliberately or by chance, she also represents a higher reality visually within the film, though of course the rest of the animation flawlessly maintains the illusion of an equally believable "reality" existing side by side. We know that the reality of the cartoon figures is not the same as our reality, but we are also aware that its rules are binding on them: for them it is a stern reality.

Somehow we maintain a simultaneous awareness of the two different levels of reality--of which the Blue Fairy's seems the more real. This is in itself a parallel with higher consciousness: aware of the physical world and its repercussions, that world is still seen as only a "surface" of a deeper reality, which continues serenely on, no matter the upheavals enacted on it. Like a colossal multi-dimensional screen on which a gigantic play is cast, it remains unaffected by the drama played out on its surface. The Blue Fairy, depicted in a blue haze, is like a transparent medium, a, beautiful, intelligent limbo between the idealised storyworld of the animation and the recognisable solidity of the human audience.

Her native energy seems far distant from Pinocchio's harsh material world by the ethereal way in which she is portrayed. As in the epiphanies told in the ancient world, for the purposes of storytelling, any qualities believed to be part of the next world must be summed up in human terms: much as one might use ping pong balls and marbles to portray the behaviour of the solar system. As in life, the situation is both real and contrived; each reality is inescapable for the characters within it, but progression can be made from one to the other with appropriate effort.

Her most prominent characteristics are beauty, radiance, forgiveness, subtlety, understanding, kindness, warmth of spirit, and most importantly, a strange power transcending the material qualities of time and space. She is devoted to Pinocchio not for his selfish ends, but for his evolution toward a higher dimension of life, and is therefore acting in his better interests while simultaneously refusing to abet his material side. In this way she can be both for and against him: this seems paradoxical, but in fact is perfectly consistent, though only becoming so when seen from the point of view of the overall situation, encompassing both physical and spiritual worlds. In Collodi's original, the Fairy has reality for other characters as well, and they sometimes comment derisively on her, taunting Pinocchio that she has no real importance compared to the pleasures on offer in the physical world.

She is competent to alter the circumstances in which the boy finds himself, when, existing in a lower plane, he voluntarily cultivates attributes of mind which are his rightful possession on the next plane. Importantly, though aware of past, present and future, she cannot alter things without his co-operation. In fact, it is made clear that there would be no point in doing this. Thus he can spend as long as he wants on the physical plane, although its dangers, and repercussions, tend to grow greater as, gradually becoming more aware of the situation, he continues to refuse to change his mentality. In this way, the story is a perfect parable of humanity's progression to a higher plane of existence. This easily explains its subtle attraction over the centuries.

But consciousness dictates perception. Individuals with a stronger mystical element in their awareness will be attracted to these sorts of parables, to film and media where such a mystic message is present, or reflected in the actions of its characters. Like colour vision, it is not present to the same degree in all the race, and of course there are those who are completely without it. As a result, the mystic interpretation will be invisible (where not explicity revealed, for example in Disney's contemporary Lion King, where the other-worldly nature of the dead characters and the codes the living must adhere to are plainly explained) and that person will of course be oblivious to the lack.

To them, films having an explicit mystical reference will appear unbelievable and far fetched, and those with hidden meanings will not appeal in any special way. They will tend to appear confusing and contrived, just as impressionistic colours would lack their designed appeal if seen only in black and white. The parable is both visible and invisible, present and lacking: no clearer example can be given of the phrase, "To him who has eyes to see, let him see".

This is of course to be distinguished from films where the devices of the story, actors or script are so bad as to make the whole thing incredible: the illusory platform essential for absorbing the story is gone. Few of Disney's films suffered this: Cinderella was perhaps an example, but only because Disney's attention at the time was focused on other pressures. The characterisation and problem solving ingenuity seem lacking: it is like a Disney film without the Disney essence.

At the end of Pinocchio, he does of course succeed in his quest. And the moment he becomes a boy, an unsettling mix of emotions can be clearly felt: the charming character we loved and secretly identified with (since, who can say they have never told a lie, and then watched in dismay as it grew out of all proportion?) lies still: his charm is forever gone, and is revealed as a dead lump of material. One almost feels betrayed. But then, suddenly, here is a young boy even more like us, full of life and humanity, with the promise of a greater freedom and happiness.

Like parents realising one day that an innocent, beautiful child has somehow disappeared and an adult taken its place, we instinctively find the good in the scene, and it is a poignant moment, unlikely enough in animated films, where the audience simultaneously experiences triumph and sorrow. Perhaps for that brief moment, the viewer becomes a parent, and marvels over the feeling of life coming out of nothing. It's quite an achievement.

It was Norman Rockwell, one of America's most loyal friends, who said, "People usually somehow manage to get out of a picture exactly what you put into it." Deliberate or not, Disney always worked on his instincts, and they certainly delivered the goods with Pinocchio: he managed to capture something which one also instinctively feels partakes of a beautiful reality in this charming film.

(1) Walt Disney; Bob Thomas, 1981: WH Allen & Co., London.