Luckett explores the cultural discourse surrounding Fantasia at the time of its release, finding mixed reviews of the animated feature film.  Positive reception focused on the film's master animation techniques and somewhat abstract narrative structure, while negative criticism came mainly from representatives of the music world who saw classical music and film as incompatible - the former being art and the latter being a "distraction."  The author also analyzes the marketing and distribution strategies that made Fantasia a spectacle.  Disney positioned the film as a "prestige picture" by releasing it as a roadshow, traveling around the country visiting large theaters in major cities.  This strategy of infrequent screenings served popular as well as technical purposes, creating suspense/"buzz" but also allowing time for theaters to install the necessary equipment for the film's multi-channel audio "Fantasound" technology.  However, this distribution method also kept the film from earning enough revenue to make up for its enormous budget.  As a reslt, the film went on to be re-released many times over the next several decades.  Luckett examines the conditions around these re-releases as well as their individual receptions, finding a "double connotation" in the contemporary United States.  Some products (e.g. home video copies of the film) signal the film as a children's/family amusement, while other products (e.g. the Collector's Edition tapes, classical music soundtrack, lithograph) associate the film with art.  The author concludes that contemporary (1990-91) marketing strategies for Fantasia re-releases mirror those for its original release: both focus on the rarity of the chance to see the film.

This article is important because it represents a kind of meta-analysis of the releases and receptions of Fantasia over time.  The author acknowledges the hostility the film originally received from the musical community and argues that Fantasia has consistently been marketed as a rare event.  My thesis uses similar information as explored in this article and expands on the author's conclusion by also taking into account how temporal distance from the original film affects its interpretation as art versus mass commercial commodity.  While Luckett does mention the "double connotation" of the film in recent years regarding its relationship to art, this aspect of the article is mainly focused on the marketing techniques involved to produce such an effect.  In this way the author's explanation here provides a more complete picture of how Fantasia has come to be viewed as art over the years.

Luckett, Moya. "Fantasia: Cultural Constructions of Disney's 'Masterpiece'" Disney Discourse: Producing the Magic Kingdom. Ed. Eric Smoodin. New York, NY: Routledge, 1994. 214-36. Google Books. 22 Nov. 2008 <http://http://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=wpxzl1lcr30c&oi=fnd&pg=pr9&dq=fantasia+disney&ots=fdmktnkohv&sig=hx9e44_3n-ovwcn1ikbssvzu1vy#ppr6,m1>.

This 1931 film review heaps praise on The Public Enemy, specifically commending James Cagner and Edward Woods for strong performances in their respective roles. The review also discusses director William Wellman’s contribution to character development.

The review places a significant emphasis on Cagner’s performance, claiming that it is “magnificently acted” and “uncompromisingly realistic in his portrayal of the youthful killer.” The review also offers a character analysis of Cagner’s Powers, writing that although Powers is an unlikeable character, he “stands out in bold relief.” Essentially, the review declares the character of Tom Powers to be a success, and attributes it to a collusion of Cagner and Wellman’s talents. Wellman shaped a sharp, multi-dimensional gangster with his directing, allowing Cagner to bring Powers to life with his “magnetic” acting and interpretation.

The review also notes that Edward Woods was “admirably cast” in the secondary role of Matt Doyle, and praises the performances of the film’s other stars, including Leslie Fenton and Jean Harlow.

I feel that this review is particularly important because it offers an evaluation of how the film’s actors served their respective roles. In my annotation of Wellman’s biography, I note that Wellman encouraged James Cagner to take the lead role of Powers, instead of playing the more muted part of Matt Doyle. This review praises how well-suited Cagner’s acting style was for his part, in addition to how aptly Edward Woods portrayed Powers’ second hand man. As a result, this review essentially confirms that Wellman’s instinctual decision to re-cast the main roles was in the right.

And, because the review claims that the strong acting was so central to the film, it allows me to make the argument that Wellman’s interference with production decisions positively contributed to the overall success of the film. Wellman’s decision to change the roles created believable characters with more depth and substance, uniquely allowing American viewers to connect and empathize with the gangsters.

Mason’s piece explains the visual style of The Public Enemy, in addition to the film’s representation of the Hollywood gangster. She analyzes the editing, production, and acting components of the movie, contrasting The Public Enemy to other well known films, particularly Little Caesar.

Mason emphasizes the striking and shocking nature of a number of scenes in the film. She specifically mentions the grapefruit scene, in which Cagney shoves a grapefruit into his girlfriend’s face after they begin to argue over drinking in the morning. The scene incited social and public controversy at the time of its release, but also remains “one of the best remembered scenes in gangster cinema” (17). Mason remarks that the film brims with other memorable scenes, including the final one, in which Powers’ body – bandaged tightly to a stiff board – topples over in his family’s entrance way.

Mason discusses the production of The Public Enemy, noting that its style is fairly “naturalistic” (16). This is largely due to the crisp editing that generates a strong connection between each scene. A significant portion of the film is also shot outdoors, allowing natural light to dominate each scene. The characters, bathed in this natural light, seem more approachable and normal than gangsters in other crime films, such as Little Caesar.

This piece is particularly central to my argument, because it enumerates the reasons why Americans related to the gangster protagonist in The Public Enemy more so than other films. As Mason notes, The Public Enemy is filled with striking, memorable scenes. The unforgettable nature of the scenes allows the moments to resonate with the audience. Viewers are emotionally and mentally impacted by the movie, and are consequently more able to connect and empathize with the characters. Additionally, Mason’s mention of the naturalistic production of the film – evident in the use of natural light and sense of continuity between scenes – further contributes to the audience’s ability to connect with characters and identify with those living in a world of crime.

            Joel Super describes A Man For All Seasons as a documentary fiction, with recurring themes appealing to the director. He also elaborates on the film’s production and appeal.

            Super notes that AMFAS was, in part, an independent film because Columbia felt the film had limited appeal. Thus, the film had a small budget and was filmed in England, much to Zimmerman’s delight because it limited influence from the studio. Zinnemann took advantage of location in shooting this film. He shoots in bucolic environments to help the audience gain a sense of the underpopulated world(168) and uses mise-en-scene techniques to emphasize the gravity of developments.

            Though his works may seem to be genre films, he largely avoids them. Furthermore, Super argues that Zinnemann consistently had a broad appeal because of his respect for the audience and interest in the subject. Along those lines, filmgoers enjoyed that his films broke from the relentless and nonsensical innovation of his contemporaries and the strong acting and directing he offered.

            More than anything else, this film reinforces Zinnemann’s interest in the theme of a “solitary individual of integrity against the corrupt and cowardly world” (158).  Though More is like other Zinnemann protagonists in that he is left without friends, he is of the upper strata and suffers at the whim of a powerful bureaucracy. The success of the film draws on Zinnemann’s strength as a documentary fiction technician. Zinnemann casts unknowns in the lead parts, like Brando in The Men and Montgomery Clift in The Search to create an element of freshness due to his firm belief that stars detracted from the story. So to in A Man For All Seasons, Zinnemann cast relatively unknown actors, and they all give fresh, powerful performances.

            Ultimately, A Man for All Seasons is a Zinnemann film that utilizes politics to provide a narrative to a story largely devoid of action, stars and genre appeal that engenders itself, largely with the power of precise and intelligent dialogue, to a large audience.