Mickey Mouse was 40 years old this week and the Walt Disney fantasy hour on NBC gave him a party. It wasn’t a very good party, because like almost everything else the folks at Disney do, Mickey’s party turned into a bloated billboard to advertise other Disney products. But it was not a party without its high spots. During the celebration, there were 1925 film clips of Walt Disney drawing roomfuls of scampering little mice, one of whom would eventually become the Star Rodent of the World. Disney himself posthumously added comment behind the original organ music that accompanied Mickey’s debut in Plane Crazy. There were scenes from Mickey's first synchronized sound cartoon, Steamboat Willie, in 1928, shots of Mickey being adored by Will Rogers, Shirley Temple, Laurel and Hardy and the Barrymores, and fond memories of his first Oscar in 1932, when he was only four years old.
Success and new clothes changed him over the years. He developed expressions. His voice changed from a beep to a chatter. He received more fan mail and sent more autographed photos than any other star in Hollywood. During the early Thirties he turned out a new movie every two weeks. His books were read by kids in 20 languages. He practically revolutionized the wristwatch industry. He even played talent scout, discovering Pluto, Donald Duck and Goofy. (It is interesting to note that of his three discoveries, only Donald Duck is still popular, because his perpetual frustration, anger and violence are very “in” today—in Berlin, Donald Duck Film Festivals have them lined up for blocks on the Kurfurstendam.) He was also very educational for children. If it had not been for Mickey, many kids would never have been exposed to classical music. There were shots of him conducting the William Tell Overture, and one lengthy film clip from Fantasia in which he performed to “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” (one of Mickey’s greatest roles, someone reminded me). Kids often found him too subtle, but grown-ups loved his unique comedy. The saddest thing of all was his demise in the Fifties when cartoon characters suddenly became real, identifiable paste-pot creatures who got involved in situations. Mickey Mouse never had a personality.
I would much rather have seen an absorbing documentary on how the entire Disney empire was saved from bankruptcy during the depression by a single mouse, topped off by a better character analysis of the decline and fall of an American hero (which Mickey certainly has come to be considered). But instead the whole thing degenerated into a bowl of mush, as most Disney shows do, with several disorganized events occurring simultaneously. The now-grown Mouseketeers from the old Mickey Mouse Club showed up, and what some of them have turned into over the years I’d rather not mention. Then it all turned into a circus of advertising gimmicks for Disney World in Florida. Disney coloring books, Disney toys, Gulf station Disney magazine giveaways free with a fill-up of gas, and more Disney products and forthcoming Disney movies than the brain can remember.
Mickey Mouse should have celebrated his 40th birthday with a roar. Thanks to the greediness of commercial television advertising, he couldn’t get a squeek in edgewise.