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"The Lion King" Parallels Disney Itself

Since it is so common an idea among fans of The Lion King that it is one of
the most mature and meaningful films Disney has ever produced, it is
natural for more and more ideas of what its most prominent and applicable
meaning is to appear on a daily basis. Perhaps most ostensibly it is a
tale of coming-of-age and of accepting the responsibility that comes with
maturity and adulthood. Other themes that are more or less easily seen
include environmentalism, family bonding, political, and the like. There
is one meaning, though, that I have not yet seen discussed, and which the
more I think about the more I am convinced is true and intentional: that
The Lion King is very much about the "coming-of-age" of Disney itself. That is to
say, Disney, in The Lion King, has finally allowed itself to become a source of
serious adult animation with legitimately applicable themes, and--
intriguingly-- they have commented on that very fact in the story of The Lion King
itself.

It all begins with a mouse.
As soon as the opening sequence is over, depicting the birth of a
new king, a new genre of filmmaking, the first thing we see is a mouse.
Seemingly small and inconsequential, this mouse appears out of darkness
only to be crushed and demoralized by Scar, representing a public only too
glad to receive the mouse but not to take it seriously in any way.
Disney's early efforts, such as Snow White, became towering classics in
very little time, but they were not seen by competing filmmakers and those
who judged the quality of "serious" films as anything worth more than a
casual glance. All the critics saw was Mickey Mouse-- a purely children's
figure. Animation had not yet made its proper mark on the film world.

Immediately after Rafiki's "Painting" scene, we are thrust into
Simba's childhood, where idealism and fun reign supreme. He sees the world
as a giant playground, existing primarily for his own amusement and the
vindication of his naпve impressions of life. This is precisely the
purpose the early Disney films served: Cinderella, Pinocchio, Snow White,
and their contemporaries retold fairy tales and set them forth for
children to enjoy, set to fanciful music and propounding simplistic moral
themes such as the importance of telling the truth and the idea that one's
looks belie one's quality (an ideal often repeated in Disney's history).
Sub-themes were generally nonexistent, the plot sequences clear and
straightforward. Just as Simba in his youth saw the world as a fairy tale,
full of fun and lacking in complications, the early years of Disney
aspired to little more than that. What it did was phenomenal for its
genre, inspiring a whole generation of kids with its themes and its
images; but it tended to shy away from the complicating elements that
real-life situations, those faced by adults, would necessitate.

Inevitable, indeed, was the death of Mufasa-- the father of Simba,
the father of Disney, the father of the new genre of film: Walt Disney
himself. What Walt produced during his life was fantastic, but the result
of that was that he set a precedent that his successors knew was necessary
to perpetuate. Disney filmmaking could not end with the death of its
founder; it lived on. And under new hands, under a changing philosophy,
Disney animation entered its adolescence.

In Simba's own adolescence, spent in carefree happiness in the
company of Timon and Pumbaa, he lapses into apathy, forgetting his destiny
and losing sight of what aspirations his childhood held. Without his
father's inspiration and discipline to drive him on, Simba becomes lazy,
letting his responsibilities slide-- as did Disney itself. In what many
have dubbed "The Dark Age of Disney," such films as Robin Hood, The
Aristocats, The Rescuers, and The Fox and the Hound exemplify the
inevitable decline in Disney's quality over the years. The animation,
always beyond reproach in the early years, showed signs of deterioration.
Storylines were bland, and often they were eerily repeated from film to
film. The songs became steadily less and less memorable. All signs pointed
to a sense of "hakuna matata" among Disney itself. They simply didn't
worry about it. They had lost their edge, and rival animation studios had
risen to almost equal status in the public eye-- just as Scar by this time
has control over the Pride Lands and the industry.

Perhaps slightly discontinuous is another parallel, actually and
demonstrably intentional: Scar's response to Zazu's rendering of "It's a
Small World": "No! Anything but THAT." Roger Allers has alluded to this
scene portraying the general public (Scar) rejecting the "Old Disney"
format and style to make way for the "New Disney" that Simba is soon to
bring back to the world.

But with the arrival of Nala and the inspiration, catalyzed by
Rafiki, of the spirit of Mufasa and Walt, of which the analog is the
acquisition by the new Eisner-Katzenberg-Wells team of the unbelievable
Howard Ashman and Alan Menken, heralded the beginning of a new age: the
Golden Age of Disney, where just as Simba awakens to his destiny and runs
back to his home to reclaim his kingdom, the Disney studios raised their
own standards to their original heights and indeed far beyond. The Little
Mermaid was the vanguard of the revolution, carried by its unprecedented
musical strength and its animation, which was handled wholly differently
from how it ever had been before: with an eye to as much realism as was
possible. Thematically new thresholds were crossed; feminism made its
debut on a Disney film, and was carried further by the even greater Beauty
and the Beast. And since that revolution, things have gotten better and
better. The Menken/Ashman team continued throughout its tenure to improve
steadily, with "Prince Ali" being one of the most masterfully crafted
songs ever to grace the screen. Aladdin was the film that, though
definitely a "cartoon" where its contemporary films were not, redefined
the highest meaning of the term forever.
And finally, as the culmination of Simba's return to power, he
climbs as king to the tip of Pride Rock, where he symbolizes his own film,
The Lion King, arguably the highest achievement of Disney's animation studios to
date. It goes to lengths only dreamed of five years ago, and preposterous
to the audience of 1950. It crosses the thresholds of visible death,
computer-generated effects, a musical score done by one of the best
composers in the business, environmentalism, full multiculturalism, and
(as I've mentioned in passing) sex. Its animation is of a quality never
before seen. It is the first Disney film to be built on a wholly original
story. It insists upon realism of backgrounds and of motion that previous
films often ignored. And most importantly, it is the first Disney film
which can undeniably be said to be produced with the genuine enjoyment of
adults in mind, rather than (as always in the past) being patently
oriented towards the kids in the audience. Disney has entered the realm of
adult animation. The mouse from the beginning of the film is gone, and so
is the sentiment that crushed it to the floor. In its place is only a
lion, standing forth as the ruler of its kingdom.
In short, The Lion King is the fanfare to the world that Disney has
reentered its kingdom. The mouse, as Time put it, has roared.

Now a new ruler has been born, the child of Simba, the new future
of Disney animation. In the same spirit which brought Simba himself into
existence, the genre has been reinvented. Disney has been reborn. We can
only imagine what we can expect in upcoming years. Will the cycle repeat
itself? Only the sequel will tell...

-Brian Tiemann