Of what worth is a bear "of very little brain"? In the context of a safe, simple world, he has a kind of delicate beauty, as seen in Disney's 1977 film, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh. Based on the books by A.A. Milne, Disney's version of Pooh and his friends has become indelibly linked with the character. Despite having voiced several prominent characters in Disney films before Winnie the Pooh, including the Cheshire Cat and Kaa the Python, Sterling Holloway's voice is most likely to conjure the image of Pooh. As much as he had for Mary Poppins, Disney created the definitive interpretation of the character. Milne's stories are in some ways stronger--the studio altered and combined some tales in a way that reduced their impact, notably Pooh's role in rescuing Piglet during the flood, but Disney's film is lovely and sweet in something of the gently melancholy way of its source material.
It's really three short films combined: Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree (1966), Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day (1968), and Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too (1974). This means that, although released years after his death, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh can boast of personal involvement from Walt Disney himself as well as the Sherman brothers. Songs composed by the brothers, such as "Winnie the Pooh", are as indelibly attached to the characters as anything else in the film. I also particularly like "Up, Down, and Touch the Ground".
Why do we enjoy seeing someone deliberately accentuating their stoutness? Why do we love Pooh's weak logic, as when he reasons out that bees make honey just for him? Partly it's the same kind of selfish and simplistic thinking that children have, so children can identify with the characters and adult viewers feel something of the adoration they instinctively feel for the immature behaviour of their children. Many scenes also contain a touch of mono no aware in the fact that problems are resolved so simply and after Pooh or someone else has tried something bizarre and useless.
Pooh rolls in the mud in the hopes that the bees will think he's a black rain cloud. Piglet's (John Fiedler) house is flooded so he puts a letter in a bottle reading simply, "Help P-p-p-Piglet, me!" It's the knowledge of how ludicrous and useless these solutions would be that evokes a ghostly sense of unresolved anxiety. In this gentle world, there are only gentle problems for gentle creatures.
In the story with the flood, Pooh actually does have a good idea in Milne's original story that saves the day. Our natural affection for the silly old bear makes us oddly proud of him and his foolish delight at accepting accolades is all the sweeter because there's something faintly tragic about it, as we know how little he really did achieve. And all of it together is under a cloud for how limited we all can't help but be aware of it being. Pooh's world is a finite space, physically and spiritually. Disney removes the actual cleverness of Pooh's idea, flattening the moment somewhat, but it's still a nice scene.
The xerox process is messy in some shots but it can't wholly detract from Ollie Johnson's animation. I particularly like Pooh squirming happily in his seat at his hero party. Don Bluth contributed work to Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too and it's easy to see his distinctive style in the face of Rabbit (Junius Matthews).
The latter portion of the film is dominated by Tigger (Paul Winchell), occasionally at the expense of Pooh and other characters. The episode where Pooh and Piglet inadvertently follow their own tracks is cut short by a pounce from Tigger. But Tigger is himself a charming narcissist and his ongoing rivalry with Rabbit, of which Tigger seems wholly unaware, is pretty funny.
It never quite feels like a feature length film, much more like what it is--three shorts stitched together. But it's lovely for that.
The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh is available on Disney+.
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