Imagine stepping into the United Artists Theater in Los Angeles on a Wednesday morning in March 1929. You’re there for the first movie showing of the day, joining a small group of early moviegoers. Little do you know, you are about to witness not just a cartoon, but a pivotal moment in animation history, deeply rooted in a centuries-old European tradition: the danse macabre. This cinematic experience began, surprisingly, with a mouse and a rat, and perhaps a few imaginative fleas.
The concept of the danse macabre, or “dance of death,” emerged from the grim realities of the Black Plague in the Late Middle Ages. As European villages grappled with widespread mortality, this art form arose as a way to confront and process grief. It manifested in various forms, from costumed dancers embodying the dead to paintings depicting skeletons merrily dancing amongst graves. This evocative imagery of death’s dance permeated music and literature as well, with compositions and written works exploring the theme of the animated dead as early as the 15th century. The 20th century, however, was poised to introduce a novel interpretation of this ancient theme: the cartoon.
Fast forward to Kansas City, Missouri, where animation producer Walt Disney collaborated with Carl Stalling, a silent-movie organist and composer. Their goal was to create music for Disney’s burgeoning cartoon shorts, featuring a mouse destined for global fame – Mickey Mouse. This collaboration sparked a revolutionary idea: crafting cartoons that were driven by the music itself, a departure from the conventional approach of adding music to pre-existing animations. Stalling proposed a captivating concept – skeletons dancing in a graveyard. And thus, Disney’s Silly Symphonies series was conceived, with “The Skeleton Dance” as its inaugural short, a clear nod to the danse macabre tradition.
Interestingly, the obvious musical choice of Camille Saint-Saëns’s renowned Danse Macabre was not utilized. While “The Skeleton Dance” cartoon does echo elements of Saint-Saëns’s composition, such as the iconic tolling bells at the beginning and the prominent use of the xylophone, Disney opted for a different path. According to Stalling, copyright issues prevented them from securing clearance for Danse Macabre. Instead, Disney tasked Stalling with creating a similar piece. Stalling’s creative response was a foxtrot-infused composition, interwoven with fragments of another classical piece – Edvard Grieg’s spirited “March of the Dwarfs.”
Grieg’s “March of the Dwarfs,” originating from his Lyric Pieces, portrays a lively gathering of mythical nocturnal creatures inspired by Norway’s dramatic Jotunheimen Mountains. In “The Skeleton Dance,” this music is ingeniously adapted to accompany a memorable scene where skeletons use each other as xylophones, adding a robust and dynamic element to Stalling’s lighter, original compositions.
Another subtle yet significant homage to Grieg appears towards the cartoon’s conclusion. As a pair of skeletal feet linger outside their grave, awaiting re-entry, the building tension is heightened by the final moments of Grieg’s suspenseful “In the Hall of the Mountain King.”
Stalling dedicated approximately two years to composing music for Disney’s shorts, significantly enhancing their emotional impact and storytelling. After a brief period of freelance work, Stalling joined Leon Schlesinger Productions, where he became the musical force behind Warner Brothers’ iconic animation projects – Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes. It was at Warner Bros. that Stalling truly cemented his legacy, demonstrating the transformative power of music in making cartoons not just entertaining, but unforgettable.
But, for now, that’s all folks… and that’s how Disney’s “The Skeleton Dance” emerged, a fascinating blend of historical art tradition and innovative animation, marking a significant step in cartoon history and the enduring appeal of the danse macabre.
