Following the release of Sleeping Beauty in 1959, the Walt Disney animation department was badly in the red. That film, lavishly and meticulously animated in the new-fangled Cinemascope process, failed to meet the box-office takes of previous 50's Disney projects like Cinderella, Lady & The Tramp and Peter Pan. Perhaps it was the film's slightly stolid, good-for-you tone that left audiences cold. Of course, Disney's films often didn't make back their production costs until they had been re-released to theaters a few times (1940's Fantasia didn't turn a profit until a 1969 reissue, it's frequently surreal visuals perhaps appealing to a baked, Woodstock-era hippie audience), yet things seemed grim. Needing a hit, Walt commissioned a screenplay based on the popular children's novel "The One Hundred And One Dalmatians" by British author Dodie Smith, assuming that the film's canine cast would re-capture some of the all-ages appeal of 1955's Lady & The Tramp. The resulting film, released to theaters in early 1961, was a sensational hit, filling the studio's coffers and standing to this day as one of the warmest and most charming of the classic Disney 'toon features.
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Set in London, the film opens with narration by Pongo (Rod Taylor), a dalmatian pooch who has grown weary of the lonely bachelor's life shared by him and his Human "pet", the songwriter Roger Radcliffe (Ben Wright), in their small flat. Then, gazing out the window, Pongo gets an eyeful of a comely bitch named Perdita (Cate Bauer) enjoying a walk with her equally attractive pet, Anita (Lisa Davis), and arranges a Meet Cute in the park. One well-timed pratfall into the lake, and the two sodden Humans are instantly smitten. A marriage follows not long after for both couples, and we re-join our happy foursome as Perdita is set to give birth to her first litter of puppies. But a dark, spidery shadow has been cast upon their lives in the emaciated form of one Cruella De Vil (Betty Lou Gerson), a wildly flamboyant socialite who has made an offer to buy all of Perdita's pups. Roger puts his foot down after the pups are born and refuses to sell them no matter what, but Cruella will not be denied...
Soon, a pair of low-rent criminals, Horace (Frederick Warlock) and Jasper (J. Pat O'Malley), barge into the Radcliffe's home, shove aside their doting Nanny (Martha Wentworth) and make off with all fifteen puppies. After an exhaustive search by the authorities yields a dead end, the distraught Pongo and Perdita take matters into their own hands (er, paws), sending a message across London via the "Twilight Bark" to keep an eye peeled for their missing brood. Then, success! Pongo and Perdita learn that their puppies have been located in the decrepit Hell Hall, a crumbling mansion owned by one (wait for it...) Cruella De Vil!
 The two then make an arduous, cross-country journey in an attempt to rescue their children, only to find their task has just gotten a whole lot more difficult. Seems that Cruella wasn't content with merely snatching the Radcliffe's dogs...she's also bought up every dalmatian puppy in London (for a grand total of ninety nine), and is hatching a scheme to have the lot of them killed so she can have their skins made into a series of fur coats! Horrified at the "witch"'s nefarious plot, Pongo and Perdita manage to rescue their own puppies from the clutches of Horace and Jasper, and, being kindly sorts, agree to take the other 84 puppies with them. Soon, a literal swarm of spotted canines are being herded across the snowbound fields of rural London, with Pongo and Perdita desperately attempting to keep the ragtag group together as they fight against the harsh elements and attempt to evade Cruella and her bungling henchmen, who are busy scouring the countryside for them.
 101 Dalmatians was a radical change of pace for the Disney studio at the time of it's release. Not only was it the first Disney cartoon feature to have a (then) contemporary setting, but, more significantly, it was the first animated feature to use the new process of xeroxing to copy the rough drawings of the animators directly onto clear plastic cells, rather than having someone else laboriously tracing the drawings onto the cells by hand. Not only did this save a step in the process and cut down on costs, but it also resulted in animation that retained the more "scratchy", graphic quality of the original pencil line work. While this and subsequent Disney features lacked the lavish, painterly line work of earlier films like Bambi and Fantasia, it also resulted in a looser, funkier style that fit the film's modest, unpretentious charms perfectly.
 However, what truly makes 101 Dalmatians a memorable film is it's wonderfully hissable villainess. With her flamboyant entrances and exits (accompanied by clouds of noxious, green cigarette smoke), with Gerson's marvelously malevolent cackle, with her two-toned shock of hair, Cruella De Vil remains one of the most beloved of the Disney antagonists for a good reason. Especially when viewed from the perspective of a young child, she's a frightening figure in the best possible way, her dire threats against the helpless puppies allowing for pleasurable shivers while her shrill, comedic apoplexy tickles the adult viewer. The last work ever done by legendary Disney animator Marc Davis (who retired shortly thereafter), Cruella makes this film. By contrast, compare her to the bland butler baddie in the later The Aristocats, and you'll get an edifying crash course in just how important the villain is to a good Disney 'toon.
Presentation
At this point, anyone who's been following the Disney "Platinum" line of animated releases barely needs to be told that the film looks and sounds wonderful. Previously released to DVD in a now thankfully out-of-print 2000 issue, this newly-scrubbed transfer sparkles. Strangely, despite other Disney releases from around the same period getting matted to a 1:77.1 widescreen ratio for their recent DVD reissues (The Jungle Book, The Aristocats), 101 Dalmatians is presented in it's original 1:33.1 full-frame aspect ratio. Not that I'm complaining. There's no visual information shaved off the top and bottom of the frame, and the colors pop. The soundtrack has also been overhauled into a typically pointless 5.1 remix (worry not, the original mono track is also thankfully preserved) that only really benefits George Bruns' jazzy orchestral score (there are only two songs in the entire film, another break from the Disney norm). Perfect.
Extras
Another jam-packed two-disc set from the Mouse House, disc one contains a pair of pop-up trivia tracks, aimed at "The Family" and "The Fan". Engage these subtitle tracks, and as you watch the film, an occasional (very occasional) dalmatian spot will appear, with a factoid about the film contained therein (like pointing out cameos from some of the canine cast of Lady & The Tramp during the "Twilight Bark" sequence). Personally, I abhor these things. You can't even scan through the film to dig out the few nuggets of true worth. I would have preferred an actual audio commentary with a Disney historian, or something. There's also a music video (3:24) with Selina Gomez's take on the song "Cruella De Vil". Yay. Rounding out disc one is the usual sneak peeks menu, offering trailers for The Little Mermaid: Ariel's Beginning (1:03), Tinkerbell (0:47), Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (0:32), Disney Movie Rewards (0:20), Sleeping Beauty (1:57), Wall-E (1:37), Mickey's Wonderland (0:47) and a special edition reissue of The Jungle Book 2: Mowgli & Baloo (1:03). Hearing the ad copy about Beauty coming out of the "Disney Vault" only reminded me of that hilarious Saturday Night Live animated segment from a few years back. "And featuring Scar as the Disney Lawyer!"
 Disc two offers the real meat of the set, with the "Backstage Disney" submenu offering up Redefining The Line: The Making Of 101 Dalmatians (33:50), a fine featurette broken into the following segments: Puppy Dog Tails, Howling At The Moon, New Tricks, Animation 101, Drawing All Cars, Seeing Spots and A Dog's Eye View. There's plenty to chew on here for Disney buffs, including a look at the film's newfangled xerography process, Marc Davis' animation of Cruella, the technical insanity of tackling a movie with 101 spotted dogs before the advent of computer technology (total, individual spot count: 6,469,952!) and how the animation of the film's vehicles was achieved (scale-model cars were built with guidelines painted across every corner, then photographed and traced cell-by-cell In one shot where Cruella's car bullies it's way through a snowbank, sand stood in for the snow).
Also in this section is another featurette, Cruella De Vil: Drawn To Be Bad (7:07) examining the film's delightfully nasty villainess, Sincerely Yours, Walt Disney (12:28), which offers a cheesy "dramatic re-enactment" of correspondence between Disney and the novel's original author, Dodie Smith (replete with peek-a-boo photography obscuring "Walt's" face as he dictates letters to his secretary), Trailers, TV & Radio Spots (16:14 total) offering advertising materials from the film's original 1961 release  and it's theatrical reissues in '69, '79 and '85 (sadly, no trailers or TV spots from it's last reissue in '91 are present), and some still-frame Art Galleries broken into the following segments: Visual Development, Character Design, Layouts, Backgrounds & Overlays, Storyboard Art, Live-Action Reference, Animation Art and Production Photos.
Moving onto the "Music & More" section, we're given access to unused songs including March Of The One Hundred And One (1:26), Cheerio, Good-Bye, Toodle-Oo, Hip-Hip (2:33) and the unusually titled Don't Buy A Parrot From A Sailor (2:37), as well as alternate/unused takes of Dalmation Plantation (3:26), Cruella De Vil (19:41) and the insanely annoying "Kanine Krunchies" Jingle (5:09). Wow, what a great way to permanently drill these songs into your subconscious until you want to kick your television screen in.
Finally, "Games & Activities" gives us the usual kiddie time-wasters like Virtual Dalmatian, Puppy Profiler and Fun With Languages. You're not paying me enough to put up with this shit.
Bottom Line
Charming and impossible to resist, 101 Dalmatians is an old dog that can still teach tricks to a new generations of tots weaned on the top-heavy, celeb-crammed CGI features of today. Cuddle up on the couch with your rugrats (or pooch) and enjoy.
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