Written by Andreas Babiolakis

This review is a part of the Palme d’Or Project: a review of every single Palme d’Or winner at Cannes Film Festival. This is a Grand Prix winner: what the Palme d’Or was originally called before 1955. Dumbo won for the 1947 festival as one of five honourees in different categories: the only year that Cannes did this. This film won specifically for Best Animation Design.

The film was selected by the following jury.
Jury President: Georges Huisman.
Jury: Raymond Borderie, Georges Carrier, Jean-François Chosson, Joseph Dotti, Escoute, Jean Grémillon, Maurice Hille, Robert Hupert, Alexandre Kamenka, Jean Mineur, Henri Moret, Jean Nery, Maurice Perisset, Georges Raguis, René Jeanne, Georges Rollin, Régis Roubin, Marc-Gilbert Sauvajon, Segalon, René Sylviano.

Whenever people ask me my favourite era of Disney (excluding anything Pixar related, of course), I always go right to the very beginning of the studio’s legacy with feature length pictures. Disney films used to be tests on how far the animation medium can go, almost in vignette-like fashion. If you look at something like Bambi and its uses of seasons and various ages of forest animals to put filmic artistry on display, you’ll see what I mean. Fantasia fully accepts that it is a compilation of separate ideas showcased in one complete suite. Then there’s Dumbo which is similarly composed (well, closer to Bambi, anyway): with its various components stitched into a quilt of depression and the overcoming of hardships. If you haven’t seen Dumbo in a while, you may not recall just how heartbreaking this picture really is. As a child, Dumbo is full of pretty colours and cool sequences, and you feel badly for the eponymous pachyderm, but you know that he will persevere and everything will be okay. As an adult, sheesh: Dumbo feels like nothing will go right for this poor little elephant and his mother, and that even their best moments are through their exploitation.

Before I continue, I will acknowledge the other elephant in the room: the blatant racism that I feel like has to be brought up, because ignoring it will only make me feel like I am championing a film without recognizing its biggest faults. The “Song of the Roustabouts” is shockingly narrow-minded with its depiction of African American labourers (and persons of colour in general, if I’m honest): what is meant to add an extra perspective of the overall circus experience comes off as a tone deaf jab at people that were abused by society. Then there are the crows and their stereotyping: the lead bird is literally named “Jim Crow”, and they all pass off as minstrel show tributes. These are hideous looks in an otherwise classic film: it doesn’t matter when the film was made, as hateful ugliness will forever be hateful ugliness.

Now that the unpleasantries are out of the way, let’s get back to the narrative, which itself is highly… well… unpleasant. Dumbo’s own name should be an indication as to how this poor elephant gets treated in the circus. His mom is chastised for her possible mental health issues. Dumbo himself has big ears and is treated with much abuse and coldness. Dumbo is made out to be useless by the circus he is forced to be in. Even his mouse “friend”, Timothy, seems to want to use Dumbo for his own gains even though he mentions that he has the elephant’s best interests at heart. It’s tricky to trust anyone in Dumbo outside of Dumbo and his mother, and I get deeply saddened whenever I watch the film. In a matter of minutes towards the end, Dumbo learns the power of flight, and suddenly there is a bright light out of this well of despair. This is where the film ends, and I’m not sure if that leaves me feeling great about what is to come afterwards. At least we get this one happy note, right?

The only other source of positivity in Dumbo comes from how breathtaking the animated sequences are. Each number has its own identity, and you are guaranteed to get something unique with each one. If anything, Dumbo almost feels like an animated parade of Ziegfeld creations. If you watch Dumbo for its story and for that alone, you will be likely depressed, waiting for things to come around for the little guy. If you allow the film to carry you away with its visions (even the nightmarish ones), you will be in for a ride. The film doesn’t submit itself fully to the spectacle mode, however, as it always keeps enough of a story going that you feel as though you are on a journey. All of these moving parts make Dumbo quite an experience: it inexplicably sifts between being an emotional weight to surprising you with what you will find.

And that’s where we leave off with Dumbo: a film that impacts all of its viewers for long periods of time. Children remember the film for being the one about the flying elephant, when that’s only the final thought we are left with; younger adults recall the frightening sequences that stay with them (especially those amazing pink elephants that stem from Dumbo’s accidental stupor); those watching the film for its innocence will be horrified by its occasional, problematic, dated moments; those expecting a good story will be stunned by the animation; those anticipating the art will be shattered by a tale of misfortune and hope within pain. Cannes itself awarded Dumbo the top prize for its “Animation Design” in 1947; the film was released in 1941. This may have to do with when Dumbo was released internationally, but the film won a major award many years after it had already made its waves. That counts for something, I think. Dumbo maintains its ability to use animation to stun and move audiences (when it isn’t being bigoted, mind you). It isn’t as easy as it looks, and there are clear examples of where it can go wrong (here’s one).

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Toronto Metropolitan University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.