The Disney Version: The Life, Times, Art and Commerce of Walt Disney

Schickel does a good research and puts facts down as they are, but he analyzes those facts from his own point of view. He thinks Disney works have manipulated masses who were of an inferior intellect and the company made fortune out of it. While this may be true, the book could have been more balanced, with an unbiased view, mentioning many favorable things the Company created.

I first read this book in 1968. It was a revealing look at why Disney was able to capture the American public and the experiences he had as a child and young man that made him try to control all around him. Disneyland is cited as the ultimate example of Disney control. Since he did not understand the importance of the hotels around the park, others built them. To make up for the mistake he planned his park in central Florida for his total control, including hotels. Disney's films, particularly the nature films, are examples of his attempt to control what was around him. He sent out photographers, poorly paid but with terrific equipment, to film thousands of hours of nature in action. His editors then selected all of the segments in which the animals looked cute or human and created a "nature" film. This was the control of nature. The cartoons are the same. Disney is the character of Mickey Mouse, although he could not draw him. Anyway, there is lots more. After you read the book you will never see Disney work the same way. Still, you can enjoy it as I do, just as a better informed person. I give the book 5 stars--there is nothing better about Disney that I have seen.

Note the words, critical analysis, because that's what this very thoughtful book provides. Schickel was the first film writer to take Disney seriously enough to craft a seriously-intentioned assessment of his life and work.Many are threatened by this book, because it does not follow the usual course of Disney writing and rhapsodize endlessly about dreams and magic and wonder. And, given the times it was published (the mid-60s) the book has a definite anti-establishment tone that is difficult for some people to identify with, in these self-satisfied times. But the core of the book and its message can't be denied. Walt Disney was not a lovable man. He had flaws, sometimes glaring ones (his handling of the 1940s strike was a low moment for him), and the Disney empire of the 50s and early 60s was indeed sexist, regressive, overly-conservative, and totally out-of-touch with the times. It's easy to forget all that, since we have benefitted from the Eisner approach of the 80s and 90s, which remade the company into a more liberal, self-aware institution. It's difficult to imagine Uncle Walt conceiving a character like Belle, or giving gay employees benefits for their companions. He certainly would never have allowed Touchstone to be formed, whose R-rated films saved the company from bankruptcy. That said, if you truly love the Disney parks and films, you should read this book. It's important to have a balanced view of one's passions, and while you may not agree with everything Schickel says, his fine writing and sense of cultural history will engage and inform you as a reader and as a Disney fan.

Although many Disney enthusiasts feel Schickel misrepresented Walt Disney in his book, Shickel's biography is a valuable piece of scholarship nonetheless. Not only does it provide people with a good overview of Walt's life and accomplishments, but the book does not shy away from providing a critical view of the man and his work. Schickel overtly connects Walt Disney the man, Disney the corporation, the entertainment industry, and American society in order to examine how Disney (man and machine) reflect and shape American culture. It's true, Schickel can be a bit harsh with Walt Disney--his critique isn't as balanced as, for instance, the work of Steven Watts. Placing his work in historical context might help put this in perspective. Schickel took on a serious examination of Disney at a time when Disney was either a) praised as being merely for children (many were well-intentioned fans) or b) ignored or dismissed (usually by critics of "high" art). Schickel took Disney seriously: as a man, an artist, an entrepreneur, and a corporation. And he saw Disney as a major influence and example of then-contemporary America. Treating Disney as worthy of an in-depth critique, more than a brief biography or expose, is a high compliment in its own way.Consider this fair warning. Readers who only want a "feel-good" biography about Walt Disney should not read this book. But Schickel makes a lot of good points about Disney, ones that provide food for thought. Even if you don't agree with Schickel, and I don't always do so, most of his observations are perceptive and worth further consideration. And as a result, Richard Schickel has earned his place in the canon of Disney Studies, a field of study that treats Disney seriously.

Unauthorized biographies are usually excuses to disembowel people whom the author doesn't like, but not this time. Schickel examines Walt Disney's virtues and vices, but sees them as a reflection of the virtues and vices of America. And like America, Disney is misunderstood by both his supporters and detractors.While Schickel finds fault in some of Disney's decisions and creations, he recognizes that Disney understood the American soul better than most self-styled intellectuals. The book details the world in which Disney grew up, including cruelties usually glossed over in official Disney biographies. It examines Disney's films, theme park attractions and creations as both American myths and glimpses into Disney's worldview. Within recent years paperback reprintings of the book have added an update chapter, "Disney Without Walt". The update reviews the financial problems and creative missteps of the Disney organization that almost resulted in an unfriendly takeover, and how Disney's spirit still affects the corporation's works. Schickel also took the opportunity to revise some judgements in the original book; it's a rare media critic that admits that he can make a mistake.