For many children, Disney is their first experience of
cinema. Prepare to be disillusioned.
Just as Disney experimented with classical music in Fantasia, The Perfect American is an opera experimenting with Disney. Adapted from Peter Stephan Jungk’s fictional novel of
the same name, this opera (with libretto from Rudy Wurlitzer and music from
Philip Glass) seeks to uncover the real man behind the cartoon façade. “Every artist has a dark side”, explains
director Phelim McDermott in the programme, with his production painting a
darker picture of our childhood hero in a Lynchian metaphor for the American
dream. Disney, on his deathbed, desperately
seeks immortality: “At least Mickey and Donald are immortal”, he laments. The production takes place as an extended
nightmare: skeletal rabbits hop across the stage with larger than life
animalistic choreography; white gloved hands suggest the pull of encroaching
death; clever use of animations and projections depict cartoon characters
tormenting the protagonist’s mind; and all accompanied by the constant ghostly
flicker of film. With the corporation prohibiting use of actual imagery, the cartoon visuals are merely an insinuation. This is not the Disney
you know and love.
The central conceit of The
Perfect American questions the true meaning of being an artist, when
cartoons are such a collaborative medium.
Disney is depicted as a megalomaniac perfectionist who takes sole credit
for the work of his disgruntled workers.
His nemesis (as such) is Dantine, a former employee who balks “All you
are is a moderately successful CEO”. This
is offset by a production that seeks to idolise and eulogise Disney in
overblown, indeed operatic, fashion. The
opening image is that of Disney being raised on his deathbed that’s startlingly
similar to Jesus on a crucifix; later he claims “I’ll become a Messiah”. The chorus, meanwhile, swings from singing “Disney
is a magician” in a manner similar to the animated films of old (Sleeping Beauty in particular), to
absurdly singing “quack quack” and “choo choo” alongside the projected
animations. At the centre of the opera
is a scene in which Disney has a conversation with a wonderfully choreographed broken animatronic of
Abraham Lincoln. Not only is this the
most melodramatic scene of the piece (the parallels to Don Giovanni are obvious), but the comparison to Lincoln borders on
ludicrous – can a cartoonist really be compared to an American president who
freed the slaves?
The main issue with The
Perfect American is its distinct lack of drama – both in the narrative and
the music. This is a character piece in
which the only compelling character is Disney himself, in an animated
performance from Christopher Purves whose beautiful baritone shines through in
the rare moments of lyricsm. Only a
cartoonish and eccentric depiction of Andy Warhol (John Easterlin) provides
light-relief. It’s fitting that the
action moves in slow-motion alongside Glass’s minimalist score – sometimes literally. Gareth Jones’s conducting is unable to prevent
the score from flatlining, with little dynamic range or energy. Word-setting is clunky and lyricism is almost
non-existent, whilst the orchestration lacks colourful excitement – a crime
considering the term ‘mickey-mousing’ derives from the use of music in Disney’s
cartoons. It’s clear that Glass’s
musical style does not lend itself to dramatic composition.
Rather than questioning the artistry of Disney, the real question
is whether he deserves to have an opera written about him at all. We see little of his Disneyland empire and
the extent of his drawing is three circles on a page (Mickey Mouse if you were
wondering). The title may be ironic, but
what exactly made Disney such a great man?
The Perfect American does not
provide a convincing argument. People
the world over love him for his work, not for his personal life. Sadly this production contains none of the
magical sparkle or storytelling he is reknowned for.
2/5
Watch: The Perfect American runs until 28th June.
