PINOCCHIO (1940)

In 2022, two reinterpretations of Disney’s 1940 film Pinocchio were released. Guillermo Del Toro’s effort was far more endearing, earnest, and convincing than Robert Zemeckis’ effort, but in the end, neither film captured the wonder evoked by the animated original. With gorgeous hand-drawn characters and sweeping tracking movements that glide effortlessly between locations, Pinocchio is still a magical experience 85 years after its release.

With the homeless and aptly named Jiminy Cricket (Cliff Edwards) as the narrator of this tale, audiences are swept through the night-time air in a quaint village filled with crooked, empty streets and cobblestone pathways. Stopping at the first sign of activity (a lit room in a small cottage),  the shot does not end there, mimicking Jiminy’s movements by moving upwards and bouncing towards its focal point as if it is hopping forward. Jiminy has stumbled upon the home and toy shop of Geppetto (Christian Rub), a solitary, elderly man who, before sleeping, wishes that his new creation, a wooden toy he has named Pinocchio (Dick Jones), could turn into a real boy.

Thankfully, Pinocchio resembles an actual child instead of a wooden toy, which had been his original design before young animator Milt Kahl convinced Walt Disney to move in a new stylistic direction for the character. This renovated design meant that he had joints on his arms and legs to distinguish him as a puppet, while still essentially looking like a child. This makes it easier to relate to the wooden boy’s quest for personhood, as well as lending a warmer quality to a film already full of cute moments, whether that’s seeing Jiminy curled up in his little matchbox, Geppetto’s tireless love for Pinocchio, or the old man’s sulky cat Figaro (Clarence Nash) leaning into the joyous sensation of being petted.

But what’s most impressive in this first act is the film’s patience, where a scene could last as long as eight minutes without any interruptions in the narrative. These extended scenes aren’t even slow-paced, making it fairly miraculous how Pinocchio manages to delicately yet entertainingly introduce us to its world. This sequence is sumptuous to behold when switching back and forth between Geppetto’s conversations with Figaro about the wooden toy he’s just crafted, and Jiminy attempting to learn the ins and outs of his new environment. Littered with detail, Geppetto’s various toys and contraptions dotted around his workshop aren’t just pretty to behold, it’s good fun watching Jiminy traverse this unfamiliar terrain, where toy figures appear to this tiny creature as real people (hence his apprehension towards one with a particularly mean expression, or Jiminy’s embarrassment at resting his hand on the rear end of a female figurine).

That night, the Blue Fairy (Evelyn Venable) arrives to grant Geppetto’s wish, which the old toymaker is unaware of as he sleeps soundly in his bed, his beloved Figaro resting beside him. Only Jiminy witnesses this wondrous sight, as a star draws closer and closer to the window near him and a spectacular light fills up the room. Not long after, the Blue Fairy gifts Pinocchio with consciousness, so while he is still technically constructed from pieces of wood, he can talk and move just like a regular human boy. Jiminy has been deemed the boy’s conscience, so it is now this narrator’s responsibility to steer him away from wrongdoing. If Pinocchio can be brave, truthful, and unselfish, he will get to become a real boy, kickstarting this film’s central quest.

The Blue Fairy is perhaps the most enchanting piece of animation in this entire film, which is already chock-full of fluid character movements, vibrant designs, and ornate hand-drawn details and settings. She is depicted in an ethereal light, where even as she stands beside this film’s principal characters she is bathed in a heavenly glow. It’s up to Pinocchio to live up to the glorious ideals that she represents, her serene nature a sharp contrast to this film’s visually striking antagonists, who our protagonist will encounter not long after this.

Herein lies the central stumbling block hampering emotional investment in this film. While Geppetto gets the chance to witness his creation come to life, rejoicing in the fact that he can consider himself a father now that he has a son to cherish and look after, the pair spend hardly any time together before Pinocchio is sent to school for the first time. Taking aside Geppetto’s reckless parenting in not taking him personally to school for the very first time (a pretty glaring flaw for someone looking after a being that has effectively just spawned into existence), it’s impossible to say that a strong or meaningful relationship has formed between them.

That’s not to say that their scene together rings any false notes, as it is endearing and heart-warming, but that’s not nearly enough time to justify their bond. For a while, this flaw is hardly noticeable. However, it’ll become only more pronounced with time as both father and son sink into further despair the longer they are apart, setting up big stakes for both characters in their respective quests to be reunited with one another. Eventually, Pinocchio turns into an epic journey where these characters must avoid peril at every turn so that they can see each other again, an endpoint that’s hardly rewarding when the film doesn’t take the time to build up an authentic relationship.

As someone who found Del Toro’s iteration of this wooden boy deeply aggravating, I still respect the amount of time devoted to Geppetto and his new son interacting with one another, whereas Pinocchio, predictably, is a clumsy mess. Parenting isn’t easy, especially when you’re dealing with a walking, talking being that has just sprung to life, where they can wreak havoc on your home and belongings, yet lack any understanding that what they’re doing is destructive and wrong. These ideas are briefly introduced in the 1940 film, then quickly forgotten about. Even if such sequences risk becoming repetitive, that could have been an opportunity for Pinocchio to usher in an interesting new location for such character development.

By taking the young boy for a day out in his village, not only would Geppetto not look like a woeful parent for failing to accompany Pinocchio outside for the first time, it would also provide some light fun as this child, unaccustomed to the ways of the world, risks dying or harming others by failing to understand some basic function of the outdoors, or makes several faux pas in the presence of strangers (much to Geppetto’s embarrassment).

Whatever these hypothetical scenes could entail isn’t all that important; there’s enough craft in this film’s visual storytelling and screenplay for its writers to have come up with something entertaining in this regard. The only thing that really matters is that more time should have been spent alongside this father and son duo as they get to know each other, where their time together isn’t always easy. In fact, if Pinocchio’s clumsiness and ignorance of the ways of humans humiliates and angers Geppetto, this would make the film’s later scenes all the more poignant, with this elderly wood-carver and toymaker coming to realise all that he has taken for granted now that his precious child is missing.

Luckily, this isn’t much of an issue when Pinocchio is led astray from his journey to school for the first time, where he is enticed by the chance to become an actor by con artists ‘Honest’ Jon Worthington Foulfellow (Walter Catlett) and Gideon the Cat (Mel Blanc). Their sly nature means they are expressive and animated in their movements and theatrics, working overtime to entice the wooden boy to their cause. Pinocchio, with little understanding of human behaviour, let alone the nuances of deception, reluctantly accepts, kickstarting an illustrious stage performance where he’s revered by his audience for being a puppet that can sing and dance without the aid of strings or a puppet master.

Behind-the-scenes, he’s mistreated by the slovenly, hulking Stromboli (Charles Judels), who he is sold to by Honest Jon and Gideon. Stromboli, with his exaggerated lips and absurd proportions, where he’s sometimes bent over like a hunchback as he leans towards Pinocchio and careens back and forth, looks like a conjuring from a Hayao Miyazaki film. The cruel puppeteer’s physicality is inextricably tied to his personality in demonstrating how overbearing he is as he controls every aspect of Pinocchio’s life. (There’s also a brief moment where he straight-up twerks, which was more than a little surprising [and disconcerting]).

The plot gets considerably darker once the Carnival Barker (Stuart Buchanan) is introduced, who wants to send our wayward and desperately lonely protagonist to Pleasure Island, where naughty boys get turned into donkeys. As dark as this story is, it surprisingly ends up feeling far lighter in tone than its plot developments would suggest. Unfortunately, this seemingly sinister element and its surprising lack of malice emphasises how this story has become just as wayward as Pinocchio.

These developments are intercut with scenes of Geppetto despairing over his lost son, which isn’t particularly convincing given that the pair had barely interacted before Pinocchio’s disappearance. Still, there are some fun moments in this portion of the story with Geppetto’s goldfish Cleo and his interactions with Figaro. Speaking of which, neither character is present in The Adventures of Pinocchio, the 1883 children’s fantasy novel by Carlo Collodi that the film is based on. They are minor comic characters imbued with such warmth here that they’re a joy to watch, transcending their scant screen time and patching up some of the holes in this story’s emotional reserve left by Geppetto and Pinocchio’s limited interaction.

Even Jiminy’s salt-of-the-earth attitude becomes grating in Pinocchio’s final stretch. Where he once served as both a useful narrator and interesting observer in his own right, his rigid, one-note characterisation ends up feeling about as wooden as this protagonist is. Edwards should still be commended for a well-crafted, entertaining vocal performance, which also applies to the rest of this cast. The decision to cast a child actor in the role of Pinocchio—which wasn’t necessarily a guarantee early in the film’s production—paid off handsomely, with teen actor Jones providing an earnest portrayal of an uncomprehending youngster who knows nothing of the world and is guided towards mistreatment by malicious strangers. But this also makes Pinocchio feel more like a moral tale than one that prioritises entertainment or emotional investment, dulling the film’s resonance and the sense of wonder evoked in its opening scenes. Thankfully, it remains an undeniably beautiful film, with animation that continues to impress well over half a century since its release.

USA | 1940 | 88 MINUTES | 1.37:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH

Cast & Crew

directors: Ben Sharpsteen & Hamilton Luske (Supervising Directors) • Bill Roberts, Norman Ferguson, Jack Kinney, Wilfred Jackson & T. Hee (Sequence Directors).
writers: Ted Sears, Otto Englander, Webb Smith, William Cottrell, Joseph Sabo, Erdman Penner & Aurelius Battaglia (based on the children’s novel ‘The Adventures of Pinocchio’ by Carlo Collodi).
voices: Cliff Edwards, Dickie Jones, Christian Rub, Clarence Nash, Walter Catlett, Evelyn Venable, Charles Judels, Stuart Buchanan & Mel Blanc.