LADY AND THE TRAMP (1955)

Lady and the Tramp couldn’t have a more endearing opening, with gorgeous animation outdone only by a short story in itself whose lyrical simplicity is beautiful to behold. After Jim Dear (Lee Millar) gifts his wife Darling (Peggy Lee) a Cocker Spaniel, Lady (Barbara Luddy), we watch the young pup struggle to acclimatise to her new home; specifically, the fact that she’s left to her own devices downstairs come nightfall. The sweet dog continually seeks out her owners’ affection, finally securing it when she makes her way upstairs and onto their bed.

The scene would be undeniably cute so long as Lady possesses that quality, but there are other factors that make it a resounding success, all of which seek to foreground Lady’s perspective of the world. Any dog owner will recognise the sometimes blissful, sometimes sorrowful ignorance that this species, especially its younger members, exhibit towards their owners’ restrictions. They will wag their tails when they get a sliver of food or company, then can be liable to howl with unrestrained forcefulness if left alone for brief periods. The entire story takes place at Lady’s level, in a literal sense as well as a figurative one, where her owners can be heard but not seen. It gives the animators room to simultaneously get creative and win over our hearts, making something as simple as a set of stairs appear as a seemingly endless upward struggle.

And when poor Lady finally achieves some success, her hard-fought battle is not rewarded through her owners’ gleeful joy, but through their weary compromise, having been won over by a face that is too cute to ever be angry at for long. This might not be Lady and the Tramp’s most iconic scene—that title is easily held by the accidental kiss between the film’s titular characters after they unknowingly share the same strand of spaghetti—but it’s when the movie is at its finest. In fact, this opening sequence is a mini-movie in and of itself, earning its significant time jump, conveyed through a quick transition from Lady’s moment of triumph atop the bed to an adult Lady lying in the very same spot.

Trouble is soon afoot in Lady’s home, only she can’t understand why. And while it becomes clear to viewers that the pair are simply preparing for a baby after Darling becomes pregnant, if she’s on the periphery of the new family dynamic that has formed, where her comfort is largely forgotten, then we are also perched on that same uncomfortable resting spot. We hardly even hear of Jim or Darling in these moments; it isn’t enough that we don’t see their faces, we are brought even deeper into Lady’s point of view so that they become largely absent from this narrative.

When Jim and Darling embark on a short trip and leave Lady to be looked after by Jim’s Aunt Sarah (Verna Felton), the lonely dog is continually rejected and chastised. Then there’s Tramp (Larry Roberts), a carefree dog without a home or family, who happily roams the streets and gets his meals from nearby business owners. It’s only when the pair become united, through Lady escaping Aunt Sarah’s clutches after she places a muzzle on her, and Tramp’s protective instincts causing him to fend off three dogs that were about to pounce on Lady, that both their lives are suddenly given a greater purpose.

Well, sort of. That would ideally be an aspect of this union, but instead it’s more so that the pair develop a spark, made whole by their accidental kiss. These scenes are cute but not compelling. It doesn’t appear that there’s anything in life Tramp is missing out on, despite homelessness and the constant uncertainty that this brings not exactly seeming like an ideal way of living. I don’t say this to poke holes in this movie’s logic (it’s still a children’s film, after all), but to offer that perhaps this romance would have had at least a hint of urgency if one of these characters truly felt as if they needed the other person. Lady is forced to rely on Tramp, as he’s not just her protector, but her guide through a harsh landscape—the outside world—that she has no conception of. But there’s nothing special leading Tramp to this newfound responsibility other than a chivalrous need to protect a woman in danger.

Oftentimes the comic moments in classic Disney films are the weakest points, leaving characters of little importance to the story’s emotional centre in the spotlight for far too long. But here a comedic bent should have been utilised further to highlight how pampered Lady is compared to Tramp, and how clueless he is about the mysteries of the indoors. The pair both have limited, yet very different, perspectives on humans, another potential source of comedy that is underutilised. As these two pooches form a bond, there should also be something that ties into their unique backgrounds that fills a gap in the other person.

The later conflicts are more contrived, with continued back-and-forth disputes with Aunt Sarah and the local dogcatcher (Millar), both of whom see little value in either dog’s life. Mild action sequences allow the time to pass idly by, but they have the unintended side effect of making this film and its protagonists more forgettable the longer they’re onscreen. The cuteness factor of animated dogs has to work overtime to give viewers something to care about, and while the film is well-animated in that regard, and possesses the bones of an enjoyable love story, it’s more mild and agreeable than truly funny or heartfelt.

USA | 1955 | 76 MINUTES | 2.35:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

directors: Hamilton Luske, Clyde Geronimi & Wilfred Jackson.
writers: Erdman Penner, Joe Rinaldi, Ralph Wright & Don DaGradi (based on the story ‘Happy Dan, the Cynical Dog’ by Ward Greene).
voices: Barbara Luddy, Larry Roberts, Peggy Lee, Bill Thompson, Verna Felton, Bill Baucom, Stan Freberg, Lee Millar, Alan Reed & George Givot.