There are some fantasy, science fiction, and horror films that not every fan has caught. Not every film ever made has been seen by the audience that lives for such fare. Some of these deserve another look, because sometimes not every film should remain obscure.
Sometimes, what gets first to market isn’t always the best version of the product…
Allegro Non Troppo (1976)
Distributed by: Specialty Films (US)
Directed by: Bruno Bozzetto
Fantasia (noun, as per, adapted):
- A freestyle composition, usually instrumental, that doesn’t follow established forms
- A work where the composer/writer/etc. allows the work free range without limits
- Something grotesque, bizarre, unreal, or any combination thereof
- This movie:
Walt Disney’s Fantasia managed to become one of the studio’s most famous productions, despite being a commercial flop. Needing special audio equipment in theaters where it played and debuting at a time when European distribution wasn’t available (just as the Battle of Britain was winding down), Walt’s expensive film was way ahead of its time. The original concept of the film called for animated accompaniments to classical pieces that could be switched in and out of the movie every few years when re-released (which would not actually happen until Fantasia 2000), thus being a daring effort to come up with MTV before there were that many televisions in the wild.
Despite the technical and economic SNAFUs faced by the project, the first Fantasia became a classic, heralded and recognized among all film goers and venerated by hardcore animation aficionados.
So of course someone was eventually going to come up with satirical send-up:
As the credits roll over the film, we watch a lone cleaning woman (Marialuisa Giovannini in her only noted credit) scrubbing and vacuuming an entire classical opera hall, while a presenter (Maurizio Micheli) discusses from off screen what we are about to see: a new concept in film never done before.
He continues with his pitch as he comes on screen, wearing the loudest jacket ever seen in Italian cinema. It’s going to be a film featuring classical music, illustrated by an animator who will let his imagination run free. He promises something the likes of which no one has seen before…
Until his pitch is interrupted by a telephone call. He yells into the receiver that the caller is “a liar from California” upon being told that he’s actually not the first person to present such a film, getting more agitated with every second. When the call ends, he tries to laugh off the encounter, stating that the caller laid a claim to having had and done the idea, “a Frisney… Prisney… Grisney… some American…”
We then watch as the orchestra master (Néstor Garay), who if he suggests anything Disney-esque would be the character Pete, as he gathers together his orchestra. We watch as he herds a gaggle of seventy-plus year old women from a pen out in the back and gets them into a truck to take to the theater, where they will be handed their instruments to play.
We then watch as he goes to the dungeon, where he and the presenter have chained to the wall a cartoonist (Maurizio Nichetti). We’re told that he has been chained up for years in order to preserve and cultivate his creativity, which is not how chaining an artist to the wall works, but anyways…
Once assembled, dressed up and made presentable, the orchestra and artist are placed on stage, and the film we’re promised can start. And whatever else you can say about the impresario, about his integrity, temper, or taste in clothes, he at least gives us what he promises, as the black and white live footage gives way to animated segments in color accompanied to classical music.
First up is Debussy’s “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun,” although the faun we watch is much closer to his twilight. We focus on one such mythological creature, much older than the other fauns around him and unable to chase after or entice the nubile women around him. Try as he might, he has to come to terms with his diminution and impending mortality.
Next, we get Dvořák’s “Slavic Dance” were a man is ahead of everyone else around him, and resents being the Jonses that they’re all trying to keep up with:
Once finished, the presenter and orchestra master call a lunch break; while they dine on fine cuisine, the orchestra and cartoonist get some slop that makes gruel look like a Tuscan feast. The cleaning woman smuggles a Coke to the cartoonist, but he’s unable to enjoy it when the orchestra master catches him with it:
This leads us to the Ravel’s “Bolero” sequence, probably the high point of the film and the one time the movie tries to go head-to-head with Fantasia. Much like the segment Disney did to Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring,” the sequence also includes dinosaurs marching across the earth in tune with classical music, although in Bozzetto’s animation we follow everyone to a more certain but less pleasant fate…
And here we start to notice something more readily that had been happening up to now: The animator is able to make his drawings come to life. The illustrations so far had been small bits with limited value to their creator to make his life more bearable, but now he’s finding new ways to use them.
Such as calling on an animated bee later on to get back after the bullying orchestra master once she’s finished performing Vivaldi’s “Concerto in C Major”:
The conflict between the cartoonist and his jailers gives the film a narrative thread. We watch as the animator, at times helped by the cleaning woman, tries to break free from his captors, and with every tussle each act is met with a strong reaction, to the point where we get into cartoon-level mayhem…
The film devotes a lot to the battle between the brutish enforcer and the put-upon artist, with strong echoes of just about every conflict between the owners and talent. It’s easy to suggest that in addition to emulating Fantasia, that the film also brings up the animator strike that took place around the time Fantasia was released.
In fact, its’ the main thing Allegro non Troppo has over its predecessor: a narrative. Whereas Disney was just playing around with forms and trying things to see where they go, Bozzetto had something to say beyond, “Hey, ain’t this cool?”
And Bozzetto has a lot to say, about the rights of artists, corporate control over art, and power dynamics between employers and their staff. There’s some strong feelings serving as the foundation under a very cynical view of how nothing can be taken seriously, which has served Bozzetto throughout his long ongoing career.
Poster for Italian theatrical release
Ably helping him is a great cast, especially Nichetti. His physical comedy makes him close to a living cartoon creation, and is put to great use here, carrying on in the tradition of Buster Keaton and other silent comics. The physical scenes shot in black-and-white complement all the animated portions, tying them together as they flow from one segment to the next.
(There is a release of the movie available where the live action segments were removed, turning the picture into just a collection of cartoons. It’s recommended anyone wanting to watch the film that they make sure its run time is the full 85 minutes; anything less is just cheating themselves out of the full movie.)
Poster for US theatrical release
The full film is a laugh riot from start to end. Even the folks at The Walt Disney Company enjoyed it, with animator Ward Kimball citing the “Bolero” sequence to every student he taught animation to as an example worth study.
Now, if that isn’t the definition of success and acceptance, what is…?
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