I’m sure that early Disney films were perceived by some folks as pretty frantic stuff. Today, however, a film like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs comes off as relatively tame and straightforward—and comparisons to many popular films of that era, such as The Grapes of Wrath, It’s A Wonderful Life, or Great Expectations, demonstrates that simplicity was very much the norm.

Today, however, we are told that filmmaking is All About Story.  What that apparently means, though, is that the Steven Spielberg “what happens next” mania has completely taken over cinematic storytelling conventions—and what’s most important now is not engaging the audience so much as overwhelming it.

In its day, of course, Snow White was at least whelming, if not overly so.  But what was whelming—and charming—was the artistry itself, not a break-neck pace that tried, for instance, to wring two actual hours of narrative out of a three-page story-telling concept.  In fact, the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is amazingly simple: A wicked and terribly beautiful queen, out of sheer jealousy, first enslaves the young and more beautiful Snow White and then sends a woodsman to execute her.  He relents, however, and she escapes into the abode of seven Dwarfs.  When the queen finds out the betrayal, she then conjures a poison apple that sends Snow White into a death-like sleep—which can only be broken by a kiss from a prince.  Duh.

In the latest “Diamond Edition” release of Snow White on Blu-ray and DVD, the film is as gorgeous as ever.  And I have to say, as a first-time viewer of the film (can it be believed?), that I found it as engaging as any children’s or family flick I’ve seen in the last two decades.  In fact, I found it superior, even, in almost all respects, to the majority of Pixar’s much-vaunted library.  Snow White is not at all geared, of course, to adult sensibilities in the way that Pixar films are; but its simplicity and wholesomeness are awfully appealing.

The storytelling model in Snow White goes something like this: narrate a little bit, then settle on a vignette in which the animation can be elaborated at length, perhaps for as much as seven minutes; repeat as necessary to complete the story.  So rather than “advancing the plot” being the catchphrase for the film’s rhythm, “exploiting the medium to its fullest” really rules the day.  So, for instance, we spend oodles of time with Snow White as she cleans the Dwarfs’ home; the Dwarfs’ fears as they encounter their mystery guest for the first time provide an almost endless sequence of sight gags; and tasks as simple as cleaning up, or eating, provide animators with enough visual fodder for what amount to, essentially, stand-alone short-film sequences.

And that is what I found so engaging about Snow White: as with the opening sequence of WALL-E, a production ethic that says “we’re going to spend as much time with a scene as the animation can bear and our creative team can imagine”—and then committing to that pattern for an entire film rather than capitulating half-way through and rushing off to yet another forty-minute comic chase.  It’s a different formula, not necessarily better; but it suits my tastes to a tee. I have become exceedingly tired of the Pixar fomula.

If you haven’t seen Snow White in decades, or even if you have, take this opportunity to check it out.  You won’t even care what special features are on the disc, and you’ll have a simply wonderful time with the film itself.

Snow White was originally released far before the creation of the MPAA, but this film may well have been the model for what G-rated entertainment is all about.

Courtesy of a national publicist, Greg screened a promotional DVD of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.