Absent Patriarchs and Persuasive Enforcers of the Future Nation: A Contextualized Reading of American Wartime Fathers in Walt Disney’s Pinocchio,Dumbo and Bambi

Introduction

In 1948, anthropologist Geoffrey Gorer, amongst other scholars, attempted to define ‘the American national character’. Flourishing during and initially after the Second World War, national character studies endeavoured to identify different nationalities according to their specific, cultural characteristics. For instance, Gorer (1948: 31) suggested that ‘the making of an American demanded that the father should be rejected both as a model and as a source of authority’ and that, for this reason, the American father always expected his sons to reject him. In his argument, Gorer observed the significance of the country’s immigrant roots, but emphasized the importance of the war-influenced attitude of effacing this genealogy so as to underline the United States’ independent superiority. Gorer argued that this paradigm of rejection had mutated into a fundamental quality of the American family structure as well as the culture itself: in his view, the democratic America had grown suspicious of all authoritarian positions or authority per se, which the image of the father symbolized. It is not a coincidence that Gorer chose the metaphor of fatherhood to locate what he described as ‘Americanness’. The war in general had sparked exceptional, ideologically charged conceptions in relation to manhood and the responsibilities of being a male. In contrast, Faludi (2000) for instance claims that the immediate post-war United States valued and looked upon, above everything else, their fathers, placing the father figure as the ultimate symbol of security and serenity, victory and order.

Even in Walt Disney’s 1940s feature films – the subsequent emblems of popular culture eternally memorializing the bygone war era – the theme of paternity is an outstanding resource of the narrative structure. If anything, the feature films Pinocchio (1940), Dumbo (1941) and Bambi (1942), considered to be some of the studio’s most acclaimed classic works, depict the violation of motherly bonding. Pinocchio, the puppet, having no mother at all, is created by his father woodcarver Geppetto and taken care of by his paternal conscience, Jiminy Cricket. Only by following the guidelines of the two is he capable of becoming a real boy. Dumbo, the young circus elephant, is separated from his mother, but is capable of rising to fame and becoming independent by uniting forces with the fatherly Timothy Q. Mouse. Bambi, the fawn, undergoes the death of his mother and has to join his father in order to survive in the forest environment. As a reward for his successful achievements, his father relinquishes to him the possession of the title ‘Great Prince’. In short, none of these characters seem to abandon their fathers, but choose to cherish paternal advice and experience, similar to Faludi’s description. Conversely, it could also be argued that, similar to Gorer’s observation, these fathers induce the children’s subsequent process of becoming independent men, eventually discovering their own path in life. How exactly do these films interpret fatherhood? What has influenced their depiction?

To approach such questions necessitates a brief analysis of the contemporary industrial requirements for motion pictures but also the cultural expectations of the war era. Here the idea of the national character acts as a preface to wartime Hollywood productions, for the two possess some similarities. Namely, both can be argued to represent a phenomenon that attempts to conceptualize or encapsulate certain elements of a culture in order to depict a comprehensible understanding of it. In Hollywood’s case, a ‘desired understanding’ may also be pronounced. Here one should note the Disney studio’s unavoidable connections to the Hollywood scene, prompted by the location of the premises. Additionally, the studio was lauded within the motion picture industry – this had already been confirmed during the 1930s, when the studio was nominated for and awarded with numerous Academy Awards, including an Academy Honorary Award for the feature Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). Since Snow White, it had been the studio’s prevailing policy to reach as vast an audience as possible to cover the expensive production costs of feature-length films. But, in the early 1940s, Disney was only a small company within an industry controlled by larger, integrated corporations (Wasko, 2001). To enter the mainstream scene meant the company had to conform to similar regulations of presentation as any other live-action feature film. Hollywood’s approach to themes and topics, such as fatherhood, were carefully predefined to complement a larger entity of pervasive cultural conceptions.

Prior to the United States’ entry into the war, the Hollywood industry had begun to regulate its presentation so as to assert its moral order and lawful authority – the most familiar demonstration of this was the formation of the Motion Picture Production guidelines (also known as the Hays Code), administered by the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (Doherty, 1993). Unbeknownst to most, even Walt Disney himself played an active part in the formation of the Motion Picture Alliance for the Preservation of American Ideals, an organization seeking to defend the country from any content it determined ideologically opposed to its conservative values (Wasko, 2001). Harrington (2014) notes that, towards the beginning of the Second World War, most of the contemporary Hollywood studios were involved in producing a cinematic visualization of a homogenized society so as to bring the nation together and to resist the threat of war and domestic conflicts, such as unionization. Accordingly, Doherty (1993) argues that what had started as mere entertainment evolved during the war years into an ideological weapon with which to effectively address the masses. Hence, the contemporary Hollywood features served as an accessible cultural guide to the new order of the country. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, the American government harnessed the Hollywood industry to become ‘the pre-eminent transmitter of wartime policy and a lightning rod for public discourse’ (p. 5). As a demonstration of Disney’s consolidating connections to the industry, the studio was virtually kept alive by governmental work during the war. In 1942, the year of Bambi’s release, over 90 per cent of the work undertaken at the studio was for the government (Wasko, 2001).

Doherty (1993) remarks that the war was essentially a masculine business. The cinematic depictions of brave and heroic men provided commercially profitable, identifiable substance to the public at a time when target groups did not yet exist: where one would recognize their missing husband or a lost son, another could see their father. This does not explain, however, why fatherhood in particular became such a central topic within the war discourse or the contemporary cinema, or specify how it was advanced as a narrative tool to promote hegemonic American values, as suggested by Faludi (2000). Nor should it be ignored that even films released during consecutive years interpreted fatherhood with various tones of presentation. Disney, with the majority of its 1940s feature films concentrating on the theme of paternity, is an excellent example of this: while Pinocchio and Dumbo are merry, escapist stories, Bambi’s stark illustration stands separately with its militaristic undertones. Why was fatherhood depicted so diversely in these features if they were all to promote a designated understanding of ‘Americanness’? Advancing these questions requires an investigation into the contradicting transitions in the concept of American fatherhood throughout the 1930s and the 1940s.

Crafting impressions of reality into a discourse

In the early 1940s, the crude memory of the Great Depression had just begun to fade in the United States. Griswold (1993: 143) describes the previous decade as ‘a nightmare that destroyed the sense of manhood and personal identity’ since unemployed men were suddenly unable to fulfil their previously established role as breadwinners. Prior to the Depression, ideal fatherhood had marked masculine self-respect, preceding male responsibilities over female economic dependence, confirming fathers’ duty to protect the family welfare and, simultaneously, to preserve the system. The Depression exposed not only how crucial breadwinning was for ideal fatherhood, but also how this ideal fatherhood was essential for maintaining patriarchal order and thus the order of the nation. Griswold claims that, for this particular reason, ‘New Deal policies sought to revitalize men’s and especially father’s breadwinning abilities’ (p. 144) – to restore the country back to its ‘right’ order. From a socio-political point of view, the state of fatherhood thus represented the state of the country.

What kind of fatherhood did the nation then aspire to? Faludi (2000: 18) notes that the Depression-era fathers who could not provide for their sons also could not ‘guide them into manhood’, which made their failure seem even more devastating. Within the locus of a family, successful paternity did not only consist of material wealth, but was defined by another important social role: the responsibility of leadership and mentoring. In essence, the father was the glue that held the family together with his decision-making and delegating skills. Contemporary mainstream films strongly adhered to and promoted this stance by underlining the father’s role and significance within their plots. Although Pinocchio, Dumbo and Bambi are all named after their ostensible protagonists, as Glassmeyer (2013: 111) states, ‘the significant character in these coming of age classics is not the innocent and naïve child, but the American mentor who guides him.’ In other words, from a narrative point of view they are first and foremost stories about fathers finding and cultivating their companions (Pinocchio), business partners (Dumbo) or successors (Bambi). Hence, all these films conformed to portraying exemplary father figures, the characters’ socially required accomplishments solidified through the subsequent success of their children. Moreover, the features thus advocated that fathers had not lost an inch of their resourcefulness, despite the economic breakdown.

This ultimately positive depiction of fatherhood was largely dependent on film’s evolving role as an immense social influencer. The medium soon assumed the duty of ‘comforting’ the public, presenting promises of safe continuity despite growing societal anxieties. This was due to the medium’s ontological quality to thrive on fiction. Unlike faster distributors of information, such as radio and newspapers, for film ‘capturing reality was a marginal enterprise’ (Doherty, 1993: 227). Rather, contemporary film aimed to provide reassurance that the country could withhold any crisis should it opt to trust the permanence of its established values, including family and gender roles of the pre-Depression era. The Disney studio participated in this stance by utilizing the timeless medium of fairy-tale (Snow White, Pinocchio, Dumbo) and the eternal milieu of nature (Bambi) for its narrative purposes. As Sammond (2011) notes, these elements were used to create a narrative framework of a supposed historical continuum that made the message of the films seem primal, projecting a social order that appeared to stretch back for centuries and to endure for years to come.

Griswold (1993) states that, as the threat of the war drew closer, the desired image of an American family came to symbolize democracy as opposed to totalitarianism, mirroring the intensifying ideological tendencies. Similar to representative democracy, the father was now to serve as the chosen ‘official’ representing his family. For instance, parent educator Lawrence Frank described in 1939 that democracy ‘begins at home, where the fundamental patterns of human relationships are developed … the father in the family carries the major responsibility for these developments’ (cited in Griswold, 1993: 100). This new, widely triumphed democratic standpoint was however disturbed by the father’s previously established duty as the decisive sovereign of his family, for now it inevitably entailed hints of authoritarianism. Accordingly, the popular film began to seek ways in which to interpret fatherhood without reasserting a father’s authority, yet without making him seem insignificant. In cinema, this balanced perception of democracy frequently meant highlighting the importance of teamwork through notions of masculine friendship (Doherty, 1993). Alternatively, the successful outcome of any task was to underline the effect of everyone’s input, despite the often-required good leadership in these operations. For instance, in Dumbo, the title protagonist holds the talent of flying while his paternal mentor Timothy Q. Mouse has a skill in business. Only by uniting forces can they both benefit from their individual abilities. Their mutual companionship effaces the traditional distribution of power between a leader and a follower but does not make it redundant: eventually Timothy becomes Dumbo’s manager.

Prior to the war, films commonly began to promote the significance of abandoning personal desires for the common good. Harrington, as briefly mentioned, sees this as complementing the subsequent governmental aspiration of manufacturing ‘an image of America as a unitary body’ (Harrington, 2014: 183). Doherty (1993) argues that the features thus commenced to cherish the compensation of accepting one’s role on the team – again effacing the asset of leadership. Yet, as he remarks, during the two previous decades the film industry had opted to illustrate the American man as a self-made hero character. It was not easy to suddenly make a change towards a template of a selfless male protagonist. Fatherhood, in contrast, was considered to be a naturally devoted act, at least from the freshly found democratic perspective. Thus, fathers or paternal characters provided fluent narrative substance with which to introduce the audience to their renewed, communal responsibilities to the nation. For this reason, Harrington (2014) sees that, in the 1940s Disney films, viewers were readily placed in an infantilized position, where they were subjected to commands from a paternal authority. In Pinocchio, for instance, it is enunciated that Geppetto the woodcarver has unselfishly brought ‘so much happiness to others’ that he has learnt to renounce his own loneliness. He initially becomes an example of commendable behaviour not just to Pinocchio, but also to the audience.

After the attack on Pearl Harbor, however, mainstream features also returned to draw inspiration from the national myths describing invincible, heroic men. While the Great War had been illustrated as a mindless bloodshed, now popular film advanced to re-mythologize the concept of war as a national crusade worthy of admiration (Doherty, 1993). These wartime features presented men with an emphatically gallant tone, nurturing an initial and undisputed promise of a masculine rescue: the war demanded strong figures of authority to follow into battle and to act as saviours. The message of the masculine rescue was fortified as the war generally restored men’s breadwinning abilities. Faludi (2000: 18) argues that the war involvement again mutated the public conception of fatherhood, for the young soldiers were now ‘placed under the benevolent wing of a vast male-run orphanage called the army’ rather than looked after by their biological fathers. Since the military surrogate fathers, generals, were the ones to rear the boys into manhood and fighting, their relationship remained more distanced, hierarchical and goal-driven, rather than affectionate and paternal. Bambi can be argued to negotiate this concept for, after his mother’s death, the title protagonist is taken care of and trained by his strict father, whom he has barely met before. Even after being shot, the father rigidly orders Bambi to get up and, after an intense, valiant struggle amidst the forest fire, they are capable of surviving and thus outsmart the malevolent enemy, ‘Man’, and ensure the deer society’s continuity.

Throughout the late 1930s and early 1940s, promoting national security and domestic policies were overtaken by an even more important Hollywood production code: the preservation of taste and morality prompted by the Hays Code (Doherty, 1993). The representation of sex was strictly prohibited, which consequently encouraged imagery inspired by violence and simultaneously increased the amount of narratives concentrating on social circles of men. However, as Doherty remarks, contemporary Hollywood still constantly taught through various innuendos that good men, and especially dignified soldiers, were to receive their sexual compensation with a beautiful girl. In the Disney features discussed, we observe Bambi’s flirtatious love interest Faline, and a Jean Harlowesque sex symbol embodiment of Jiminy Cricket’s desires, the Blue Fairy. Harrington (2014) suggests that Disney’s pairing of sexualized imagery with the paternal command reduced the imagery’s transgressive nature, providing a safe context in which to explain it away. Indeed, the Blue Fairy’s tempting looks and alluring voice become the primary motivating elements of Jiminy’s decision to undertake the paternal task of acting as Pinocchio’s conscience: he even gets a present, a golden badge from her afterwards. Similarly, Faline becomes Bambi’s reward after he has proven his worth to become a father during combat against ‘Man’ and the hunting dogs. Both depictions thus insinuate that paternity will result in compensation from the opposite sex, or that sexual associations are permitted when they are interconnected with paternity.

This objectified presentation of female characters also leads us to observe how women in general are portrayed in these three films: none of them depict a leading female character. Moreover, it appears that on the screen the highlighted patriarchal worldview can even strip women from their traditional role of motherhood: both Dumbo’s mother Mrs Jumbo and Bambi’s mother are separated from their children, the relationships replaced with father figures, while Mrs Jumbo is violently punished and Bambi’s mother cruelly killed. As Doherty (1993) argues, there was hardly any physical or spiritual space left for women in 1940s Hollywood features. Not only did the context of approaching war and militaristic imagery define virtue in masculine terms, but the same-sex intimacy also edged out matrimonial affections. The genre of romantic melodrama, for instance, became almost culturally redundant. Consequently, even maternal nurturing was occasionally replaced with the implied advantages of (surrogate) paternity, and in particular the fraternal bonding between a father and a son: ‘Look Dumbo, I’m your friend’ are the first words Timothy utters to his protégé, whilst offering a peanut as an amicable gesture. ‘I think your ears are beautiful’, the mouse continues, establishing an initial trust in Dumbo by treating him as fondly as his mother. Bruzzi (2005) notes that in 1940s Hollywood only a few films directly portrayed the ambivalence the war brought upon family and gender roles, namely, women’s increasing financial and political independence. Instead, contemporary cinema cherished its own reality: through films, fathers were capable of attending the first line of national defence traditionally regarded as female territory – the home – and simultaneously maintain their status as the family head, despite being domestically absent in real life, having joined the battlefield.

All things considered, we can conclude that, in the late 1930s, the conception of American fatherhood had developed into a narrative device that ideologically conformed to the family values and gender roles of the pre-Depression era, but which constantly kept on evolving according to wartime sentiments, governmental aspirations and cultural expectations set for entertainment. I will now move on to analysing the films in more detail.

Educating and enforcing with Pinocchio

When we first encounter the woodcarver Geppetto in Collodi’s story collection The Adventures of Pinocchio (2002[1883]), he is described as ‘a brisk little old man’, who is ‘fiery’ by nature and can ‘fly into [such] a terrible temper’ that there is ‘no holding him’ (p. 4). Geppetto exclaims to his neighbour how he has come up with an idea that will give him good fortune: he will carve ‘a wonderful puppet that will know how to dance, fence and turn somersaults’ (p. 5). Initially, Geppetto does not seek or wish to become a father; instead, he wants to create something that will help him satisfy his selfish, hedonistic desires of travelling and drinking wine. Once finished carving, Geppetto has no interest in getting to know the puppet. Thus, Pinocchio runs off. While Geppetto goes searching for the puppet, the villagers begin to fuss about how the woodcarver is a bad man and might beat the boy due to his tyrannical manner with children. Since Collodi’s stories are infused with critiques of societal power structures, it is however not Geppetto, but Pinocchio, who will eventually regret his actions and repent to his father, despite Geppetto’s obvious faults.

Disney’s Geppetto, in contrast, is refined from any qualities that could deem him as inglorious, here following the contemporary cinematic trend of portraying fatherhood in a positive light. He is the absolute incarnation of what is ‘good’, as defined by the Blue Fairy: Geppetto is kind, benevolent and, in regard to Pinocchio’s subsequent runaway adventures, always forgiving. Going to bed each night at the same stroke of the clock, Geppetto prays to heaven, as pious as any other decent Christian. Unlike his hoodlum predecessor, Disney’s toymaker is marked by his conservative working man’s ethic and integrity: dedicating his life to villagers, Geppetto has put aside all his personal desires except for one secret heartfelt wish – having a child of his own, as enunciated in the sentimental opening tune When You Wish Upon a Star. Geppetto thus represents the ideal turn-of-the-decade American man willing to sacrifice his life for his community’s collective needs. What ultimately drives his actions is the stoicism emerging from the self-assurance that he is doing what is morally right and the consequent belief that his services will eventually be compensated. Hence, never complaining, Geppetto expresses only modestly how he would like to have his life improved: ‘wouldn’t that be nice? Just think. A real boy’, he whispers to his cat Figaro.

What does Geppetto actually wish for in the Disney interpretation? The fact that the craftsman specifically desires to be a father suggests that he craves to be individually appreciated for his personal accomplishments, not only as a member of his community. The feature hints at this by lingering on the wondrous creations of the woodcarver’s workshop, but alas, we do not see any customer admiring them. Instead, the adaptation reasserts an indication of Geppetto’s solitude and simultaneously suggests that he is not receiving the satisfaction for which he pines from his work. He has presumably chosen his trade, here revised as toy-making, for the delight of children, and his own child is the very thing he longs for. As Pinocchio is essentially one of his handicrafts, Geppetto’s yearning for affection concurrently becomes a yearning for recognition, thus intertwining with implications of power. In this sense, he represents a post-Depression father wishing to demonstrate that his significance or status have not decreased. The predestined hierarchy of Geppetto’s and Pinocchio’s subsequent relationship is best illustrated in the film’s first scenes, when Geppetto plays with inanimate Pinocchio, here literally portrayed as a marionette. The fact that Disney’s craftsman is unable to bring the puppet to life himself emphasizes the supremacy of his society, and reveals how dependent Geppetto is on his surroundings. However, once Pinocchio utters his first words, it is Geppetto who will have the authority to decide how they will advance together as a family: the toymaker instantly grabs again the now-living puppet from his trouser suspenders and continues manipulating Pinocchio’s movement – after all, he is Geppetto’s property, a toy that is meant to ‘go play his part’, as Geppetto sings. Simultaneously, the film educates that (paternal) ‘possession and achievement are rights of the viewer’ (Harrington, 2014: 94) – for any man to assume as their own.

Yet the opening song insists that good things will only come to those who hold affection: ‘fate is kind/she brings to those who love’. To underline the exemplary qualities of Disney’s Geppetto without making him seem authoritative, his devotion as a father is emphasized. As Harrington notes, Geppetto’s workshop is warm and cosy, a maternal space. Similarly, Wasko (2001) argues that Geppetto evokes the Freudian concept of male pregnancy fantasy. That Geppetto clings to Pinocchio in a motherly manner, however, does not make him any less an ideal man: as Harrington (2014) obverses, any negative aspects of paternity are projected onto threatening characters like the puppet master Stromboli or the Coachman, who both display highly masculinized traits in their looks and ways of speaking. In addition, the more feminine Geppetto has no trouble fulfilling the sacred paternal responsibilities feared to be subverted by the Depression: he can both provide and mentor with success. Geppetto, for instance, has a spelling-book ready to give to Pinocchio on his first school day, and he teaches the puppet good manners by advising him to present an apple to the class teacher. Consequently, the responsibilities of fatherhood make Geppetto content; the companionship revitalizes his state of mind by making him feel significant again. As the narrative of paternity is parallelled with Geppetto re-finding the joys of his trade, the feature moves to propose that unselfish commitment towards one’s community will always be rewarded due to its significance for societal order, and that devotion to others will add to a man’s exemplariness and virtue, helping him to reach such achievements.

Glassmeyer (2013) remarks that in the Disney version we get acquainted with Geppetto’s and Pinocchio’s story because Jiminy Cricket decides to enter the workshop. The subsequent film ‘is consistent enough to be read as being told through his eyes’ (p. 110). In Collodi’s text, the Talking Cricket’s significance was less substantial: Pinocchio killed the pedantic critter in a fit of rage right after meeting him. Disney’s Jiminy becomes an inseparable advisor and companion of his ward, assuming a twofold role as a paternal figure, but also as an external manifestation of an individual’s psyche: he accepts the charge to act as the puppet’s conscience. This narrative perspective is crucial to how the film is to be read and understood. Here, one should be reminded of Harrington’s (2014) argument of how the viewer is essentially placed in the infantilized position of Pinocchio, to be guided by Jiminy. As Glassmeyer (2013) notes, Disney’s Pinocchio establishes and underscores Jiminy’s ‘Americanness’: despite the humble rags he is wearing, the cricket is marked by opportunist and streetwise characteristics. At the beginning of the feature, he recalls how ‘my travels took me to a quaint little village’ and describes how he ‘wandered around the crooked streets’ at night. Simultaneously, the image moves from Jiminy’s storybook standpoint to an establishing shot above an Alpine town located somewhere in central Europe. That Jiminy has travelled here from afar, oversees the locale and is about to descend there, enforces his American perspective as opposed to a European viewpoint and also accentuates his superiority as an American. Jiminy’s surveying position within the narrative framework, combined with his introductory monologue, therefore establish him as a mentor who prioritizes American values. At the same time, he is instructing the audience to internalize them. Arguably, it is again Jiminy’s nationality that allows him to encroach on Geppetto’s workshop as a stranger and to begin guarding the family’s subsequent progress.

Jiminy, in essence, is the character through whom the film is firmly tied to the pre-war context. Glassmeyer (2013) sees that the mentoring narrative verges on the theme of America’s emerging wartime identity as a leading country on the global stage. For instance, although originally Italian, Disney’s Pinocchio is dressed in clothes resembling tracht, the traditional garments of German-speaking countries, as opposed to his Americanized teacher. Here the feature also touches on Gorer’s argument, the nation’s need to intercept the connections to its European roots. Notably, similarly to Geppetto, Jiminy is also contrasted with Stromboli and the Coachman. While the cricket represents a familiar American character, the two masculinized, temperamental characters ‘in practice and accent, are bastions of the old country and palpable threats’ (p. 110). The fact that Jiminy is aligned with Geppetto’s character reveals his initial task as being to fortify the same message of an ideal man, but also to make this ideal distinctively American. Due to his position in the narrative, Jiminy is also to demonstrate to the audience why acknowledging these mores is profitable. In a similar way to Geppetto, fatherhood permits Jiminy power: as the Blue Fairy dubs Jiminy ‘lord high keeper of the knowledge of right and wrong’, the cricket’s new authoritarian title ‘Sir’ insinuates that Jiminy is fundamentally virtuous, and that his resolutions are never to be questioned: ‘always let your conscience be your guide’. As a concrete demonstration of his social advancement brought upon by paternity, his rags are transformed into the refined clothes of a gentleman. By nature, Jiminy is also very flirty and Geppetto’s female toys and porcelain statues provide the cricket with plenty of material to touch and gaze upon. He reflects to Pinocchio that the world is full of temptations, but blunders while attempting to explain the meaning of the term, chuckling and clearing his throat. The comedy of the scene suggests that good men, and specifically fathers, are allowed their own attractive temptations.

Dumbo and democratic paternal nurturing

Faludi (2000) emphasizes that wartime manhood confirmed men’s emerging role as nurturers. The new valued qualities of good men – like Geppetto’s willingness to put others first – were actually traits that society had previously recognized to be principles of motherhood. ‘Like mothers tending selflessly to their babes, men were not only to take care of their families but also their society without complaint; that was, in fact, what made them men’ (p. 38). Hollywood, as briefly mentioned in the introduction, correspondingly began to illustrate paternal narratives where the putative maternity – namely, the expected role of women – was supplanted with fatherly nurturing. More prominently than in Pinocchio, the Disney studio explored these themes in Dumbo, released less than two months before the attack on Pearl Harbor. Based on Helen Aberson’s and Harold Pearl’s (1939) illustrated Roll-A-Book of the same name (see Barrier, 2011), the film narrates the story of a young circus elephant who is bullied because of his unusually large ears. Enraged by persecuting circus guests, Mrs Jumbo attempts to protect her son until she is chained. Although isolated from his mother, Dumbo is not left to face the cruel environment alone: dressed finely in a ringmaster’s suit, being ‘as proud of his appearance as Jiminy’ (Glassmeyer, 2013: 108), Timothy Q. Mouse takes the mute child under his wing, but in a very delicate manner as opposed to Faludi’s ‘surrogate fathers’ of the army. In essence, Timothy represents a ‘new’ father in comparison to Geppetto or Jiminy, for he performs tasks that would not necessarily be expected of his gender.

Griswold (1993: 90) argues that ‘new fatherhood’ emerged from the American middle classes during the interwar era – these fathers ‘ideally took a more active role in their children’s development’ and were hallmarked by love and involvement. Consequently, the scenes Dumbo has shared with his mother are carefully re-enacted with Timothy: the mouse softly bathes Dumbo and tenderly wipes off the clown make-up the circus ringmaster forces him to wear and, in return, Dumbo grasps Timothy’s tail to hold tight with his trunk. Likewise, Sammond (2011) remarks that child-rearing practices had undergone considerable changes by the 1940s. Early 20th-century child-rearing had been defined by its management-oriented and behaviourist tendencies, embracing control, discipline and efficiency. With the rise of authoritarianism, these models began to fall into dispute, since they evidently echoed similar submissiveness as in the Hitler Youth movement. At the time of Dumbo’s release, permissive and child-centred child-rearing methods prospered: parents were recommended to encourage their children to embrace their individual abilities so they would feel accepted and would patriotically cherish their place in society. This is Disney’s Dumbo’s ultimate narrative: whilst the protagonist has discovered his individual talent and feels valued, he chooses to remain in the previously discriminatory circus environment. The elephant’s trust and loyalty are bought with indulgence rather than force. To demonstrate, Timothy recognizes Dumbo’s needs and emotions on a more intimate and sensitive level than Geppetto normatively sending Pinocchio to school; the mouse, for example, takes Dumbo to see his captured mother. For Timothy, Dumbo is not just any child, and he sincerely appreciates the elephant’s unique personality. This contributes to the impression that he is also more fond of his ward.

Both ‘new fatherhood’ and permissive child-rearing were discourses that helped allow for the illustration of the new, democratic, likeable father figure on the screen. Although subsequent cinematic narratives ultimately emphasized the significance of co-operation and teamwork, they never truly contested traditional family roles, such as the importance of parental rule in a child’s upbringing. For instance, Timothy allows Dumbo to shine on the stage, whilst the mouse himself shifts towards the background, participating in the production management. The elephant thus becomes an agent of Timothy’s leadership, and Timothy, signing Dumbo’s contracts, literally evolves into the mute child’s voice. Yet, as the audience observes Dumbo finding his self-confidence and sees his happiness grow, they only appreciate Timothy’s efforts without paying attention to how he surreptitiously fortifies his influence within the circus environment, securing a wealthy career path for himself through Dumbo’s success. Since they both benefit from the companionship and neither of them is being obviously taken advantage of, the narrative justifies Timothy’s advancements. Another example of how the feature carefully encourages immutable familial hierarchy is Disney’s change of having a mouse as Dumbo’s instructor instead of a robin. The new deployment of the animals is rather disparate to the idea of a bird teaching an elephant to fly like him and becoming equivalent to each other, since elephants are assumed to be afraid of mice. Hence, mice appear to be a superior species as they possess an intrinsic authority to manage larger animals in the circus surroundings. Glassmeyer (2013) argues that Dumbo’s flirtation with race suggests possibilities for domination and connects to the mentoring narrative in Pinocchio. As opposed to Jiminy, however, Timothy’s different species is specifically advanced to enforce a male-centric worldview, rather than being used to promote ideas of nationality.

Griswold (1993: 93) notes that ‘nurturing fathers brought a different set of contacts from those furnished by the mother, thereby enabling children to profit from the unique perspective offered by each parent.’ Dumbo is capable of acquiring skills exceeding those of other elephants because fatherly Timothy helps him to locate them and believe in himself. However, at the same time, the feature demonstrates that paternal responsibilities are more important and their accomplishments are more far-reaching than those of maternal responsibilities. In essence, Dumbo grows independent because he chooses to collaborate with his paternal mentor. Had he not broken off from his mother, he would never have discovered his inner abilities. Whilst Mrs Jumbo has failed to control her emotions and violently attempted to protect her son, Timothy is capable of guarding Dumbo through discussion embodying sensible logic and his intellectual powers. For instance, the mouse becomes disgusted when a group of female elephants deliberately terrorize the child and proposes it is fruitless to pick on anyone in their own camp. Being the only adult male in the sequence, he is simultaneously presented as the only rational person present since the vain female elephants appear to be ‘focused wholly on external beauty’ (p. 108). As a ‘new’ father, Timothy’s attitude and behaviour towards women are stripped of any sexual connotations: thus, he is not silly or easy to tempt like Jiminy, but sensible and humane at the same time. Moreover, whilst Mrs Jumbo has ineffectively attempted to isolate Dumbo and herself from the other circus animals in order to stop the bullying, Timothy never encourages Dumbo to leave because that would not benefit their social order collectively. Instead, the mouse prefers the circus animals to keep together, like a wartime nation, in a similar vein to what contemporary Hollywood was largely promoting (Harrington, 2014). Here, Timothy also solidifies Faludi’s (2000) definition of nurturing his micro-society. As a male, Timothy consequently exceeds Mrs Jumbo’s singular feminine ability of nurturing by surpassing it with his vanguard qualities: he ultimately replaces Dumbo’s longing for his mother with a necessity of having a father for guidance, simultaneously making Mrs Jumbo’s solutions seem more trivial or irrational. Most importantly, Timothy teaches Dumbo – initially named after his father as Jumbo Jr by his mother – to take over and own his cruelly given nickname, underlining Timothy’s exceptional success as a surrogate father.

Bambi, patriarchal fatherhood and mythic heroism

Unlike its upbeat predecessors, Bambi is depicted in a solemn and serious tone. A major influence for the feature’s presentation was Pinocchio’s miserable failure at the box office, which had exposed how ‘people were more concerned with the approaching war’ (Johnston and Thomas, 1990: 158) rather than being receptive to whimsical adventures. For instance, head animators Johnston and Thomas resolved that Bambi had to address more prominently these despondent contemporary societal anxieties than its predecessors. Therefore, it is justifiable to suggest that Bambi may be a fable that ‘meant to promise American men at America’s entry into World War II that they, like Bambi, will prevail against enemies threatening their home’ (Glassmeyer, 2013: 104). Yet if this is the case, it is interesting that the film presents no concrete visual cues to the wartime context, although the climatic forest fire – invented for the Disney version – may be read as an allegory to the horrors of the war. In comparison, Sammond (2011) remarks that Dumbo is suffused with military motifs that link child-rearing with war, thus hinting at the process of raising soldiers: the storks fly in a formation like a squadron; the animal babies they deliver are dropped in parachutes like skydivers; the feature advertises ‘Dumbomber’ airplanes for defence. These motifs, however, lose their prominence because Timothy treats Dumbo so gently instead of commanding him like a trainee. Ontologically, as briefly discussed in the introduction, the war was comprehended as a ‘masculine business’, consisting of masculine hierarchy and an assurance of a masculine rescue. Therefore the element that encourages a reading that Bambi is specifically a wartime film exploring wartime sentiments, as suggested by Glassmeyer (2013), must be located in how the feature fabricates conceptions of manhood and paternity.

Whitley (2012) sees Bambi essentially as a storyline of conservation: the film introduces a beautiful, unruined environment, recreating an idealistic ‘illusion of primitive America’ (p. 66). For example, in the feature’s opening scene, in which the image gradually dives into the depths of the forest, the film’s visual language implies that the audience is about to step into something intimate: the secret of life and being, emphasized by Bambi’s coming into the world. Originally authored by an Austrian writer Felix Salten (1923), Disney’s adaptation of the novel Bambi: A Life in the Woods (2013) changes the European fauna to its American equivalent, consequently associating the new landscape with Yosemite National Park. This is significant to how the feature begins to establish its ideas of masculinity. First of all, the setting shifts the subsequent story to the United States, and secondly it implies we are getting acquainted with the very core of what makes this environment so special: its inhabitants. As Whitley (2012) notes, a reading of ecological conservation may also be extended to include a conviction of preserving mores and values. Hence, the sentimental framework, in which we carefully peek, not only inculcates the locale’s uniqueness, but also provokes an impression that this society must be maintained and its continuation preserved. In essence, it is the animals that invigorate the place and, without the inhabitants, the place would not exist.

As we may recall, contemporary Hollywood films thrived on fiction for providing a means for comfort, or as suggested in Bambi’s case, encouragement. In Bambi, the element of illusion is an inseparable part of the narrative and operates on multiple levels throughout the feature. For instance, the presentation of the film is essentially hyperrealistic. Although the feature’s detailed technical performance insists on a heightened sense of realism, the narrative itself steps further away from reality. Namely, it is illusory to have a talking animal society, but to have one within a realistic framework supports the film’s narrative purpose. Ultimately, the presentation allows the audience to recognize the actually existing surroundings – that is, the American forest – whilst inspiring them to contemplate what actions should be taken, should their own domicile be threatened. While the realistic setting establishes that within the deer society there is something culturally invaluable that must be defended, the illusion part then advocates that this ‘cultural treasure’ can only be protected by resorting to conceptions that emerge from an understanding of this culture and its fundamental structures. In other words, Disney’s deer society is and has to be patriarchal: there has always been a Great Prince, a strong leader and a sovereign, and presenting a new, similar monarch will secure their survival at a moment of grave danger. The film eternalizes the father figure by associating him and his role with nature’s cyclical timelessness – the coming of age narrative presents a continuum, a full circle of time from the birth of Bambi to the birth of his children. In comparison, Salten’s novel was episodic, portraying only small vignettes of the forest life.

As a fable, the feature’s realistic, yet idealistic circumstances evoke connotations of national myths. Namely, the audience may not only recognize the American landscape, but also begin to regard it as culturally valuable as the land of the deer society, a source of pride and dignity. Moreover, Americanized primitivism can metaphorically remind viewers of the ‘brave settlers’ who once came to inhabit the ‘desolate’ land, similar to the deer society, both living in peace generation after generation until the arrival of the intruders. Here it should be noted that the shock caused by Pearl Harbor was very intense because, prior to the attack, none of the World Wars had brought battles onto American soil. Accordingly, illusion in Bambi then metaphorically suggests that, similar to the deer society, salvation must be located in the structures established in the past: the only way to resist the new threat depends on the inhabitants’ aptitude for relocating their roles and identities as similar to those allegedly courageous people, who once fought their way to settle this land. Needless to say, such presentation underscores the importance of pre-Depression patriarchy. While the film simulates these ideas, the beliefs simultaneously reveal how a culture wishes itself to be recognized or understood. It should be remembered that at this point the Disney studio was already working for the American government. In Bambi, the element of illusion presenting an interpretation of American national character is ultimately what acts as the promise of what will happen in the event of war, should everyone conform to these required societal norms.

Payne (1995) reads Disney’s Bambi as a militaristic depiction because of the feature’s imagery in which masculinity is defined by its performing qualities of violence. When young Bambi visits the meadow, he attempts to imitate the posture and movement of other bucks because they are demonstrating to him proper male behaviour – he has to exercise how to fight as a normal part of their social order, similarly to young men joining the war. As his father, the Great Prince, arrives on the scene, everyone pays their respects to him by falling silent as the stag ‘freezes them at “attention”’ (Payne, 1995: 144). Whilst the young bucks follow him keenly with their gaze, does and fawns are left in the margins of the meadow for they are of no importance apart from representing a means for patriarchal reproduction. The stag first passes by Bambi without taking any glance towards him, and only then halts; keeping the fawn vigilant and anxious, he acts like a general towards his recruit. Indeed, the fact that the stag chooses Bambi to become his successor is the defining act of their relationship, presupposing ‘fundamental inequality’ between them (Guroian, 1998: 103). For instance, the only conversations the pair share during the film consist of the stag commanding Bambi how to act: (after Bambi’s mother’s death) ‘your mother can’t be with you anymore. Come’; (after spotting a pack of hunters) ‘we must go deep into the forest. Hurry, follow me!’; (during the forest fire) ‘get up! Now, come with me.’ These are all obvious thematic nods to the war that make the film seem allegorical of real events. Not only does the great stag seem like a strictly authoritarian character, a pivotal figure in the military context, but he also represents a leader, ‘the surrogate father’, that wartime Hollywood sought to portray. However, there is more to the stag than this superficial reading, which is established through the hyperrealistic setting.

As previously mentioned, during wartime, mainstream features returned to draw inspiration from national myths, attempting to re-mythologize the concept of war. Similar to the idealistic environment, the character of the stag is also interpreted in a manner of divine heroism. In his novel, Salten attempted to depict Bambi’s father as a slightly threatening character, his features defined by how the interaction between a stag and his offspring would normally occur in nature: most often it would not exist (Lutts, 1992). Originally titled less grandiloquently as ‘the Old Stag’, the Disney version granted him a new regal title that would differentiate him from all the other animals. Guroian (1998) notes that the deer society does not mistake the stag for a deity in Salten’s novel, yet in Disney’s Bambi, the stag becomes a godlike creature, echoing the biblical theme of separateness. Whilst in Salten’s text the stag mainly hid in the depths of the forest, in the Disney depiction his impact and position above the animal kingdom are solidified by placing him primarily high up the hills, and subsequently by making a scene of his occasional descents to join the other ‘mortals’. Even at the event of Bambi’s birth, he only inspects his heir from afar, whilst silently bathing alone in the celestial dawn mist. Although the Disney stag appears to be deeply concerned with his son’s survival, his formidable physical and spiritual distance to Bambi is what strips the stag of humane or mundane qualities, adding to his mysteriousness as a character: thus the stag begins to resemble a ‘biblical prophet, through discernment and familiarity with the way of Being itself’ (p. 108).

Moreover, in Disney’s interpretation, the stag’s solitude – which has made him outlive all the other deer – elevates fatherhood to mythical extensions, emphasizing it as a sacred and immortal task. Not only do the animals respect the stag but their entire society actually depends on him. Whilst in Salten’s text all the animals were capable of taking care of themselves by following their instincts, the Disney depiction strips this inherent ability in order to place the stag in a position of warning others in a moment of danger, as in the meadow, where he reappears to guide Bambi to safety. Thus, there is a heightened impression of the stag as a saviour, who only appears in need, yet sees all – like a God. In essence, the stag’s disciplined behaviour reveals why he is associated with the war context. However, his simultaneously enigmatic, inexplicable presence is what suggests he is not to be read as a detestable authoritarian tyrant, but as an encouraging and consoling divine character or a heavenly father one desires to follow. This way, the feature carefully explains away the qualities that in normal circumstances might make the father figure seem repellent – by re-mythologizing his authority. Thus, Bambi is not merely to become the stag’s replica embodying the patriarchal order, although the two look exactly alike in the film’s ending scene standing side by side up the hill. Instead, the myth the film enunciates echoes the theme of creation from the Book of Genesis: that Bambi transcends into an image of his father, this godlike existence, confirms the holy rightfulness of his leadership and his society’s existence on this land. As manifested in the film’s opening and closing theme song, ‘like the voice of a heavenly choir, love’s sweet music flows on.’

Conclusion

All the features discussed here delineate an image of a culture in which fathers hold a prominent significance. It may therefore be concluded that the films participated in the discourse of the pre-Depression patriarchal ethos that the politicized Hollywood industry had assimilated as its pivotal narrative resource. Because securing fathers’ status had largely become associated with maintaining social order and stability, the contemporary Hollywood features sought to reassert a father’s role within a family and as a society member. That the Disney studio became engaged with these popular convictions was a necessity: by the turn of the decade, the company desperately needed both governmental funds and the larger audience of the mainstream scene so as to prevent bankruptcy (Wasko, 2001).

In each of these films, the concept of fatherhood is associated with social mores that provide an insightful reading into not only the ontology of contemporary paternity, but also contemporary ‘Americanness’ with its hopes and anxieties. Patriarchy is portrayed as a foundational social structure that constructs national identity and makes an ideal American (Pinocchio). That fathers are competent at nurturing (Dumbo) not only derogates women’s influence within the domestic space, but also suggests that a father’s involvement in a child’s upbringing is essential for raising a future generation. It is important to note that both of these convictions are presented in a tone that effaces a father’s authoritarian qualities because excelling American paternity was concurrently expected to mirror ideas of democracy. This is why paternity in Bambi differs from its predecessors: after the outbreak of the war in the United States, the country demanded hierarchical masculinity associated with the military. In order to explain away this conspicuously authoritarian father figure that previously had been ideologically connected with the enemy, the film embraced a solemn tone with which to re-mythologize the autocratic father figure through religious imagery and make him appear as an anticipated divine saviour.

If we return to the introduction and look again at Pinocchio, Dumbo and Bambi as a continuum, each instalment develops the ideas the previous film established, and we may recognize both Gorer’s (1948) and Faludi’s (2000) interpretations of the concept of American fatherhood. Although none of the protagonists reject their fathers, the suspicion towards authoritarian paternity is present throughout the films. In addition, we see the concept of fatherhood evolve from a companionship into a spiritual cult. Since ‘for America after 1945 the vision of the present and expectations for the future would be filtered through the wartime motion picture record’ (Doherty, 1993: 6), it is not unfeasible to imagine a post-war nation looking keenly upon their fathers (Faludi, 2000) after this thematic and narratological ‘mythical culmination’ within the popular discourse of paternity. That surrogate fathers are of such importance in these films (the stag’s status as a biological father is disputable) does not imply that a child’s real parents’ are incapable of looking after their offspring, but rather proposes that anyone can and should undertake the duty of paternity, become a successful father and an ideal man participating in generating the future nation. As Doherty (1993) notes, the contemporary Hollywood features were not just documenting American history, but actively making it.