tangled the series series bible 8 of 8

Apparently Flynn Rider was gonna be modeled after Jack Black until they chickened out. WHAT THE HELL, DISNEY?

The character who was modeled after Jack Black was a proto-Flynn Rider named Vincent. It was an entirely different version of the story, called Rapunzel Unbraided, and Disney didn't chicken out; Glen Keane hated what they were trying to make him do to the story, because there was very little heart or sincerity in it.

Can everybody please read what the people who designed Rapunzel's tower for the Tangled movie wrote about all the drawings on the wall!!

Here is the text:

[As might be expected, Glen Keane is as interested in what's inside as what's outside."What's most interesting about the art direction is the inside of the tower. To me, that is Rapunzel's world, and the idea that this girl is making her walls go away by painting on them-I love that.

Visual development artist (and Glen Keane's daughter) Claire Keane continues, "We didn't want it to be just decorative. This is all of her subconscious desires and all of her conscious desires. When I started trying to figure out what she would paint and how she would paint, I started looking into medieval drawings, and also the way other artists work with interconnecting their objects-Rapunzel paints on the walls and she paints on her furniture and it's all connected. I was trying to come up with a new language for the way she would paint"

Claire Keane took a very personal approach to identifying Rapunzels art. "I started on the weekends, and in the mornings, and whenever I was at home, documenting my life in a sketchbook, and turning it into Rapunzel.

Cleaning up my house, putting away my clothes, separating the dirty from the clean. I'm singing while I'm doing it. That leads into this life-as-art thing, where everything Rapunzel is doing is another opportunity for art.

Nathan and Byron also wanted her to feel a little analytical, as if she's documenting things that she's discovering. So it's not just about her art, she's also learning things"

Glen Keane concludes, "Well, you start off when she was a little girl, she just started painting very simple childlike images on the wall. It progresses in maturity to where every square inch is painted. When we're starting the story, there is no room left on this wall any longer. Her next step has to be to go out."]

Like this is so lovely!!!! Especially the last part: "When we're starting the story, there is no room left on this wall any longer. Her next step has to be to go out." I love that so much!!!

Found this drawing Glen Keane did for me during “Tangled”. He was trying to convey to me the intensity of the moment. Sure love that Glen. Learned so much form him during our time together ~Hyrum Osmond

Tangled at 35

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

Tangled was an important milestone for Disney. After years of experimentation and practice, Disney’s animators were finally comfortable and proficient in the use of CGI animation. Thankfully, they hit the milestone in time for their 50th animated film.

No more was CGI considered the inferior alternative to hand-drawn animation. It wasn’t met with “good enough,” or “nice, considering the circumstances.” Computer animation was finally meeting the quality expectations indicative of the Disney brand. But such an achievement didn’t come easy. 

Animated films, like any film, are beholden to the screenplay. The movie was first conceived by Glen Keane. Keane had been animating for Disney since the 1970s, and was supervising animator through much of the Disney Renaissance. For his achievements, he was given the opportunity to direct a film. He chose to adapt a version of the fairy tale Rapunzel. That would be the final easy decision of the filmmaking process.

The earliest version of Keane’s movie was dates back to 1996. A far cry from film we know as Tangled, this version was named “Rapunzel Unbraided.” This treatise was a genre-bending farce. Two modern-day teenagers, a jaded couple with relationship issues, found themselves transported into a storybook. There, they were forced to assume the roles of Rapunzel and her prince. It would be a satirical work, lampooning fairy tale plots and overused tropes.

The concept was scrapped in the early 2000s. For starters, Shrek was released partway through the film’s conception. Rapunzel Unbraided now looked like a copycat. More significant were the technical problems. In their attempt to pivot to computer animation, Disney wanted Rapunzel Unbraided to be fully digital. The animation staff knew their limitations. Anything they could offer would be subpar. As such, Keane proposed a compromise: Make digital animation that emulated hand-drawn animation.

Instead of the round, textured imagery associated with CGI, animators would instead produce flat models. These models would be colored in high contrast shadows, giving it a cel-shaded aesthetic. They would then be propped up against a background that looked painted. It was 3D animation, trying to hide its third dimension. 

Mock-ups and concepts were produced, but it was all for naught. The concept was ambitious, but universally recognized as unfeasible. Doubly so for a feature-length production. The proposed art style would eventually be used in later Disney animated shorts Paperman and Feast.

A new treatise, “Rapunzel,” was devised in 2003. This version was closer to the original Grimm Brothers tale. Keane wanted this incarnation to be atmospheric and foreboding, akin to Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Sadly, Keane never saw his vision fulfilled. He stepped down as director in 2008. It was private knowledge at the time, but he suffered a heart attack and didn’t have the stamina to complete the film. Instead, Disney turned the project over to Byron Howard and Nathan Greno, the director and the storyboard director of Bolt. Keane remained onboard as producer and animation supervisor, serving in a less-intensive capacity.

Greno and Howard authorized another overhaul. Characters, story, and settings were rewritten and redesigned for a third time. The movie was finally released in November, 2010. A mere 14 years after its initial pitch.

Several movies in Disney history have had prolonged developments. Alice in Wonderland and The Black Cauldron were conceived decades before their production started. In the meanwhile, they were shelved; nobody was working on them, and they never cost the studio a dime. 

In other instances, movies were forced into rewrites or reconceptualization. In extreme examples, both Beauty and the Beast and The Emperor’s New Groove were changed into entirely different films mid-production. But even these radical decisions only lengthened the 4-year production window by several months. 

Tangled had both a prolonged development and massive overhauls. In all its different iterations, Tangled was in a constant state of production and pre-production for nearly a decade and a half.

To put it simply, Tangled was an expensive movie. The production cost was $260 million. The Princess and the Frog cost only $105 million, while the upcoming Wreck-It Ralph would only cost $160 million. Tangled is the most expensive animated film ever made. At the time of writing, it is currently tied as the 12th most expensive film of all time.

To maximize returns, Disney analyzed the impact of The Princess and the Frog. It was agreed, the biggest marketing mistake was the film’s title. Selling a film as a princess tale was detrimental; boys were turned off, assuming the film wasn’t for them.

Disney wouldn’t repeat this mistake. They deliberately advertised the film as an action comedy, not a fantasy romance. Posters and trailers featured both the hero and heroine as equally important. Finally, Rapunzel’s name was removed from the title. The movie was given a new title, Tangled. It doubly represented Rapunzel’s trademark long hair, but also the intertwined fate of the two leads.

Several staff members met this name with derision. The purpose of adapting the Rapunzel story was the pulling power of Rapunzel’s name. However, that pulling power only exists if audiences can immediately recognize the film as a Rapunzel movie. Rebranding may have been unavoidable, but surely there was a better solution than renaming the film to a generic one-word adjective.

In the end, the studio executives got their way. Whether the title itself contributed to the film’s success is unknowable. However, it did spawn a new trend in animation. Multiple studios, Disney included, trended towards simpler, one-word titles. They were short, they were punchy, they were direct. They represented the idea studios were trying to convey: these weren’t the classic fairy tales you grew up with. These were newer, cooler, and most importantly, trademarked interpretations.

As told by the Brothers Grimm, Rapunzel is an antiquated and absurd story. Most everybody knows the basic elements. The story is of a young woman, trapped in a tower by an overbearing guardian. Unable to leave, her hair grows uncontrolled and uncut. The only way to enter or exit the tower is using Rapunzel’s hair as a ladder.

Most people forget (or never knew) Rapunzel was barely the main character of her own story. The first half of the tale takes place before her birth. It involves her parents stealing vegetables from a witch’s garden. The witch claims Rapunzel at birth as payment for the theft. It’s her that keeps Rapunzel hidden away. As a final insult, the witch names Rapunzel after the stolen produce. “Rapunzel” isn’t supposed to be a name at all, but the German word for Lamb’s Lettuce.

Like Beauty and the Beast, Disney knew the best course of action would be to discard the classic story. There were too many elements that would seem silly and superfluous to modern sensibilities. There was also too little focus on Rapunzel herself. The hair, the tower, and the witch were the only parts that would remain.

In place of the discarded elements is a braided plait of plots. Three separate stories intertwine. The first, an old woman discovers a magic source of eternal youth. She keeps the enchanted flower exclusively to herself for centuries, elongating her life. One day, the local regent pursues the legend to save his ailing wife. He takes the flower, heals the queen, and unknowingly passes the restorative properties to their unborn daughter. The selfish crone kidnaps the child, raising it as her own, desperate to keep access to the magic.

Second, a young thief steals the crown jewels of a local kingdom. Pursued by the palace guards, he betrays his accomplices. On the lam, he must keep distance from his growing list of adversaries. He makes an unlikely ally as he tries to keep both his life and his ill-gotten gains. 

Third, A young girl on the cusp of her 18th birthday longs to see the world outside her confining home. Kept in seclusion and isolation by her adoptive mother, she concocts a plan to escape. She has one goal, meager as it may be, to attend an annual festival featuring sky lanterns. These lanterns are the only sign of the outside world she can see from her window.

These are the plots of Mother Gothel, Flynn Ryder, and Rapunzel, our villain and two heroes, respectively. Tangled is a feat in storytelling. Characters and elements are used to their fullest extent. The three plot threads overlap, intertwine, crisscross, double back and converge to create a style of storytelling unique to Disney. We see a wide range of traits in a variety of circumstances against a panorama of supporting characters. There’s never an opportunity for things to get static.

Pared down to its barest essence, the movie has one core component: Rapunzel has long hair. Not just long, unfathomably long. Seventy feet long, according to official sources. Longer than anyone could ever grow in real life. This is the central hook of the film.

Rapunzel’s hair is used as a ladder, just as it was in the original fairy tale. But that’s only the starting point. Disney doesn’t throw away the opportunity for creativity available to them. What all could a person do if forced to carry 70 feet of unkinkable, unknottable, unbreakable hair?

Rapunzel uses her hair as a rope. She uses it as a snare. She lassos with it. She swings with it. She rappels with it. She uses it as a whip. She uses it as a nearly-prehensile appendage. There are so many uses, major and minor, explored in great lengths. For essential plot progression, for individual quirks, and for one-off jokes. The creativity and its implementation are perfect.

Being the central focus of the film, the animators absolutely had to get the weight and movement of Rapunzel’s hair correct. It couldn’t be a hard piece of shellac, or lifeless like a flopping piece of fabric. It had to look like hair, move like hair and feel like hair. And that meant drawing it like hair.

In total, over 140,000 individual strands of hair had to be accounted for. The animators could have hypothetically animated Rapunzel’s tresses just like the rest of the film. That would be the hard way. Instead, animators employed a recently developed computer program.

A specific subset of animators were tasked exclusively with animating Rapunzel’s hair. Rapunzel’s hair had 173 reference points. Animators could choose which points moved where, and what they interacted with. The computer then handled gravity, friction, collisions, and inertia.

Further complicating matters were the lighting and shadowing effects. Rapunzel’s hair isn’t just blonde, it has a radiant gold luster. Literally; it illuminates in several scene. As such, each strand of hair couldn’t be a 2-dimensional thread, but a microscopically hollow tube. Light effects needed to flow through each strand, lighting it up like fiber optics.

With the hardware limitations of the time, it took over 30 hours to render a single frame. At 24 frames per second, multiplied by a 100 minute runtime, Tangled’s enormous production window makes even more sense.

This dedication to craftsmanship is evident throughout. There’s a unique style to Tangled, making it look unlike anything else offered by Disney. The saturation and use of color emulates an oil painting. Specifically, animators drew inspiration from the Rococo art movement. The artwork of painter Jean-Honoré Fragonard was used as references by the animators. As a result, Rapunzel’s violet dress and yellow hair are dynamic contrasts to the verdant greens and ruddy browns that surround her.

The violet and gold color scheme are further explored at the kingdom of Corona. An entire city on an island surrounded by a bright blue sea, Corona is the kingdom Rapunzel was spirited away from as an infant. In honor of the lost princess, the citizens light candles in her memory.

The entire kingdom of Corona was modeled on the French castle and commune, Mont St. Michel. Despite this, there’s nothing specifically French about Corona or all of Tangled. The film has a deliberately conflated identity. It’s representative of no place and no era. It possesses an unmistakable Old World charm, but no parallel beyond that. Some elements are reminiscent of the dark ages, while others resemble the 18th century. They all intermingle, creating a fantastical land to accompany its magic. It’s not quite France, not quite Britain, not quite Germany; it’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. This also conveniently excuses everyone having American accents.

The film’s villain is Mother Gothel. A woman of indeterminate age, she is physically in her 40s, but actually centuries old. She’s become reliant on the rejuvenate magic present in Rapunzel’s hair. It is the only thing keeping her alive, requiring its use on a weekly basis.

Gothel is a special class of villain, not seen since Lady Tremaine from Cinderella. She’s not particularly strong or powerful, but she is conniving, malicious, and evil all the same. She doesn’t need to strike down Rapunzel with her hand when she can instead break her spirit.

Her sole motive is also her greatest weakness as a character. Gothel is for all intents and purposes immortal. But she doesn’t do anything with that immortality. We don’t know what she wants, or what she does with all her free time. She clearly has a life somewhere, independent of Rapunzel. But everything she is and everything she does revolves around keeping Rapunzel hidden and subservient. Gothel’s life is a tautology. She prolongs her life so that she can live a life devoted to prolonging her life.

Kidnapped from her birth parents as an infant, Rapunzel has only known Gothel as her mother. For her entire life, Rapunzel has been subject to Gothel’s mind games. Rapunzel is repeatedly told the world is treacherous and dangerous. She’s told she’s far too weak and powerless to brave the risks. And with no frame of reference, Rapunzel is forced to believe the lies.

Rapunzel’s tower is both her prison and her home. She’s lived alone for her entire life. She has no communication with the outside world and limited resources to fill her days. What does she do with such little space and so much time? Whatever she can.

The film’s opening song, “When Will My Life Begin,” demonstrates the frustrations of an extrovert forced to live the life of an introvert. Rapunzel has a multitude of hobbies and interests. Some she’s passionate about. Some are distractions. Some are self-appointed busywork. She’s blithely frustrated with her unfulfilling and unrealized life. 

We see the various skills and abilities Rapunzel has acquired through rote repetition. While it’s an enthusiastic way to start the film and introduce Rapunzel, there is a missed opportunity for foreshadowing. None of the skills she demonstrates are revisited throughout the film. We’re told she’s adept in guitar playing, ventriloquism and papier-mâché. She’s shown being skilled in close-quarters combat, using a frying pan as a weapon. What could have been a great storytelling opportunity is just a series of one-off sight gags.

Rapunzel as a character is defined by her circumstances. Living sheltered and alone for nearly 18 years, she has a childlike disposition. She’s naïve, trusting and optimistic because she’s never known any reason not to be. Likewise, she’s also well-versed in a number of areas, exuding a level of unearned confidence. She knows what she wants, and she knows how to get it. She just doesn’t know anything about society, geography, or social interactions.

The only thing Rapunzel knows of the outside world is an annual festival of floating lanterns. She doesn’t know what they are or where they come from, but she’s so intrigued by their existence, she must know.

Enter the male lead of the film, Flynn Rider. Flynn is on the run from law enforcement, carrying a jewel encrusted in his satchel. To avoid capture, he stumbles far into the forest. He accidentally stumbles upon Rapunzel’s tower, believing it to be empty. Caught off guard, Rapunzel subdues Flynn and hides his satchel. This gives us the film’s inciting incident. Rapunzel needs an escort to the lantern festival. If Flynn accompanies her, she’ll return the satchel and its contents.

Flynn was designed to be a charismatic, likable scoundrel. By intention, he was equal parts Han Solo, Gene Kelly, and Errol Flynn (his namesake). He’s witty, snarky, humorous, but always with a debonair charm about him. He’s never humiliated or demeaned, always coming out of each situation with his head high.

What makes him interesting instead of conceited is how he plays off Rapunzel. Flynn is determined to believe he is the hero of his own story. A swashbuckling rogue, akin to Robin Hood. Instead of another daring adventure, he’s now playing bodyguard to a naïve girl who’s somehow calling all the shots. The wind is taken out of his sails, but they’re still very impressive sails.

Flynn’s design was the work of a focus group. The directors corralled every woman from the Disney Animation Studio for a meeting. Plastered on the walls of a boardroom were photographs of popular Hollywood actors. The ladies were asked what they physically liked and disliked about each man. Sources have confirmed Johnny Depp, David Beckham, Hugh Jackman and Brad Pitt as testing particularly well.

Dubbed “The Hot Man Meeting,” this feedback gave Flynn his unique look. Curtained hair. Brown eyes. A healthy physique, but not overly muscled. A strong jawline. Expressive eyebrows. Some facial hair, but not a full beard. And the setup for a running gag presented throughout the film, a prominent nose.

The film is overflowing with likable and charismatic characters. Even the animal characters are dynamic additions. Maximus is a no-nonsense steed in the palace guard, relentless in pursuit of Flynn. So much so, it’s understood he’s the authoritative head of the entire squad.

It’s details like this that really sell the world of Tangled as fundamentally unique. One scene features Flynn and Maximus engaged in a sword fight. An adventure movie staple, Tangled makes their version iconic. For starters, it’s held in the runoff channels of an aqueduct. These channels are so large and voluminous, Flynn and Rapunzel are essentially surfing down water slides. Second, Flynn isn’t armed with a sword at all, but a skillet. Finally, all this is in happening so Flynn can combat a horse gripping a blade in his teeth.

The difference between madcap insanity like this being random nonsense and unique style is context. Every strange decision is justified. Every odd element is explained. It’s ridiculous when experienced outside of the film, but inside the world of Tangled, it all makes sense.

Maximus has a unique place in the movie. He’s sentient, intelligent, clearly able to understand everyone, but cannot speak. He’s an animal living in a human’s world. As is Rapunzel’s friend and pet chameleon, Pascal. Both use these restrictions to opposite means. Maximus’s silence gives him a no-nonsense air. He’s in service of the law and pursues criminals with a stoic determination. He uses a piercing gaze, flared nostrils, and an unhappy sneer. Pascal uses his oversized eyes and comical smile to emote. He’s playful, endearing, and fully in support of Rapunzel and her goals. Everything he does is for her.

It’s common to associate these traits to the animated animals. Tangled also uses this attributes in an unlikely place: Rapunzel’s parents. The king and queen of Corona are seen throughout the film. They run a gamut of emotion, ranging from desperation, hope, grief, optimism, disbelief, and finally jubilation. We spend very little time with these two. They are an accessory to Rapunzel’s story. But every moment we spend with them, we learn so much about their identity. By the film’s end, they are as familiar as any other major character, all without ever saying a word of dialogue.

Tangled is a film that is strong on story, strong on visuals, and strong on character. Usually a film is lucky to achieve one of the three, but Tangled gets all three near perfect.

The soundtrack is another exemplary work from Alan Menken. The indeterminate era and setting are reflected in the film’s music. The sound of medieval madrigals are partnered with acoustic guitars and soft rock. It makes the world seem comforting and vibrant. The music is as essential to every scene as the background. When Rapunzel and Flynn arrive at Corona, the music swells, encompassing the joy onscreen. The movie blossoms into a full dance sequence, not seeming superfluous or egregious.

Not counting the reprisals or Rapunzel’s magic incantation, there are four songs in Tangled. It’s an odd number, leaving Tangled straddling the genre line. It’s rather anemic compared to other Disney musicals, which feature five or six numbers. Can Tangled rightfully be called a musical, or is it a normal movie where characters happen to sing?

At any rate, Tangled’s soundtrack accidentally reveals Disney’s musical formula. Disney films feature four different types of songs. These four songs hit the four requisite beats. They identify characters, hit emotional notes, and diversify the soundtrack. These four are The love song, The ‘I Want’ song, The silly song, and The villain song.

We’ve already touched on The ‘I Want’ song, “When Will My Life Begin?” As for The love song, I have nothing to comment on. “At Last I See the Light’ is well-constructed and serves the film aptly.

The villain song, ‘Mother Knows Best’ is interesting to dissect. All of it is deliberately over-the-top and theatrical. Voice actress Donna Murphy is allowed to flex her Broadway sensibilities to the fullest degree. The various pitch changes and tremolos make it clear that she’s having fun. It’s also a dark juxtaposition with her words being horrifying and insulting.

The playful nature and the upbeat melody bely Gothel’s horrifying premonitions. She is scaring her daughter into obedience and servitude. The visuals drive the point home. Everything happening onscreen is darkly comical in relation to the song. It’s terrifying taken out of context. Conceited taunting is exactly what one wants from a villain song.

‘I’ve Got a Dream’ is the silly song. Rapunzel wins over a tavern full of ruffians, encouraging them all to pursue their secret desires. Even if those desires are strange or uncharacteristic.

It’s not that “I’ve Got a Dream” is a bad song, but it is easily the weakest from the film. For starters, every single ruffian’s dream concerns a long-harbored secret. Secrets kept, as they’re rather unmasculine or childish. The message of following one’s dreams is being confused with encouragement to buck gender roles. Surely there must be one brigand who’s dreaming of something that’s not ironic.

The song drifts off track, stretching its central point, trying to justify its place in the movie. A character having dreams and aspirations despite impossible obstacles is a common theme. It applies to the large majority of Disney films. Rapunzel’s story is only tenuously tied to dreams. She wants to leave her tower. She wants to visit Corona. She wants to see the lanterns. The film tries to justify this as a dream, but it feels like a retroactive establishment. It’s hardly a dream, more of a strong curiosity. ‘I’ve Got a Dream’ feels like it was written independently of Tangled, then forced into the narrative. Though it’s jaunty and entertaining, it stands out for the wrong reasons.

It’s a golden opportunity the movie outright misses. The focus point of Tangled shouldn’t be on the pursuit of dreams. It should be about age and confidence. Gothel infantilizes Rapunzel to the point of helplessness, smashing her confidence. She keeps Rapunzel in a state of perpetual childhood.

It’s why, near the end of her adventure, Rapunzel’s return to the tower seems so eerie. The colorful furniture and childish drawings that once defined her are now omens of her cursed state. She has all the intelligence and maturity of a grown woman, but she’s subjugated to live eternally as a little girl.

Rapunzel left her tower for only a few days. In doing so, she immediately developed emotional maturity, self-reliance and social skills. She even found romance. She’s an adult now, but is being forced back into the life of a child. Her tower hasn’t changed at all; the imagery that once defined Rapunzel as a character now defines her tragic circumstances. It’s why the movie takes place on her 18th birthday, the gateway between adolescence and adulthood.

Gothel uses magic to prolong her youth and deny her true age. The only way to maintain such a life is to subject Rapunzel to the same fate. The final act of defeating Gothel is a symbolic one. Rapunzel’s hair is cut, destroying the magic, literally and figuratively severing what tied the two women together. 

Visually, Rapunzel turns from a doe-eyed girl to a grown woman with no physical changes other than a shattered bob. A haircut, while narratively important, forever reminds us that Tangled was released in 2010.

The major element that defines Rapunzel as a character is confidence. Either its presence, or its denial. She’s spent her entire life being told she’s weak and incapable, she has no choice but to accept such claims as fact. When she has her very first taste of capability, she realizes she’s capable of so much more. When Disney Animation released their first truly-successful CGI film, it was the dawn of a brand new era in animation. It was a long time coming, but with Tangled, at last they saw the light.

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