burdensome corporate debts that weighed even more heavily once the banks shut off credit to the studio.” 34
As a result,
Song of the South
came out at a notoriously lean financial, if also innovative, time for the studio. In July 1946, four months before the film’s premiere, production was halted on all feature-length productions, except for the four that were already well underway or nearing completion—
Song of the South
,
Make Mine Music
(1946),
Fun and Fancy Free
(1947), and
So Dear to My Heart
(1948). 35 Also during that summer, the Disney Studios cut 40 percent of its workforce, “because of economic conditions reflecting increased wage demands by union crafts, as well as other inflated costs.” 36 Disney’s reluctance to deal with his recently unionized animators was another reason that live action looked more appealing. Less than a month later, the
New York Times
reported that, after much haggling, Disney eventually reached a compromisewith the Screen Cartoonists Guild to hire back 108 artists, with the sole purpose of completing
Song of the South
and
Fun and Fancy Free
. All other projects were shelved indefinitely. 37 According to articles in both
Variety
and the
New York Times
, Disney was losing considerable money on investments in those films that had yet to see theatrical distribution—all feature-length works that employed both animation and live action.
Such conditions made
Song of the South
’s success all the more crucial. At the time of the premiere, Disney spent considerable money advertising
Song of the South
in
Variety
. This included lavish full-page ads describing promotional strategies for its November 12 debut in Atlanta. Ironically, the trade paper also reported in the very same issue that the studio was in financial trouble and considering “whether it will continue producing the shorts.” 38 That same article noted that “a great deal is expected of ‘
Song of the South
.’” 39 A month and a half later, the
New York Times
reported that Disney earned a profit of only $199,602 in 1946 because of production costs related to unreleased films. Because so many forthcoming films were now in the distribution pipeline, however, Roy O. Disney reportedly believed that “the years ahead will be the most successful in the company’s history.” 40 This prediction ultimately proved true by the mid-to-late 1950s, but was certainly not the case in the late 1940s.
PRODUCTION, TEXTUALITY, AND INCOHERENCE
The conditions for
Song of the South
’s contradictory reception history began with the film itself. According to Neal Gabler, the Disney Studios were well aware of potential controversies around
Song of the South
, even during preproduction. Publicist Vern Caldwell was quoted as saying that “the negro situation is a dangerous one. . . . Between the negro haters and the negro lovers there are many chances to run afoul of situations that could run the gamut.” 41 The awareness of multiple audiences here reinforced the idea that, from its inception, there was always a certain incoherent mentality attached to the film. Disney wasn’t really sure whom to reach with
Song of the South
or how to reach them. Originally written by a conservative Southerner, Dalton Reymond, the script was later rewritten by an East Coast liberal, Maurice Rapf. In this regard, the script itself reflected a split personality. “One of the reasons Walt had hired Rapf to work with Reymond,” writes Gabler, “was to temper what he feared would be Reymond’s white southern slant. Rapf was a minority, a Jew, and an outspoken left-winger, and he himself feared that the film would inevitably be Uncle Tomish. ‘That’s exactly why I want you to work on it,’ Walt told him, ‘because I know that you don’t think I should make the movie. You’re against Uncle Tomism, and you’re a radical.’” 42 Gabler believes that Rapf gave the film a more liberal sensibility. In contrast, Cripps argues that Rapf’s hiring
As a result,
Song of the South
came out at a notoriously lean financial, if also innovative, time for the studio. In July 1946, four months before the film’s premiere, production was halted on all feature-length productions, except for the four that were already well underway or nearing completion—
Song of the South
,
Make Mine Music
(1946),
Fun and Fancy Free
(1947), and
So Dear to My Heart
(1948). 35 Also during that summer, the Disney Studios cut 40 percent of its workforce, “because of economic conditions reflecting increased wage demands by union crafts, as well as other inflated costs.” 36 Disney’s reluctance to deal with his recently unionized animators was another reason that live action looked more appealing. Less than a month later, the
New York Times
reported that, after much haggling, Disney eventually reached a compromisewith the Screen Cartoonists Guild to hire back 108 artists, with the sole purpose of completing
Song of the South
and
Fun and Fancy Free
. All other projects were shelved indefinitely. 37 According to articles in both
Variety
and the
New York Times
, Disney was losing considerable money on investments in those films that had yet to see theatrical distribution—all feature-length works that employed both animation and live action.
Such conditions made
Song of the South
’s success all the more crucial. At the time of the premiere, Disney spent considerable money advertising
Song of the South
in
Variety
. This included lavish full-page ads describing promotional strategies for its November 12 debut in Atlanta. Ironically, the trade paper also reported in the very same issue that the studio was in financial trouble and considering “whether it will continue producing the shorts.” 38 That same article noted that “a great deal is expected of ‘
Song of the South
.’” 39 A month and a half later, the
New York Times
reported that Disney earned a profit of only $199,602 in 1946 because of production costs related to unreleased films. Because so many forthcoming films were now in the distribution pipeline, however, Roy O. Disney reportedly believed that “the years ahead will be the most successful in the company’s history.” 40 This prediction ultimately proved true by the mid-to-late 1950s, but was certainly not the case in the late 1940s.
PRODUCTION, TEXTUALITY, AND INCOHERENCE
The conditions for
Song of the South
’s contradictory reception history began with the film itself. According to Neal Gabler, the Disney Studios were well aware of potential controversies around
Song of the South
, even during preproduction. Publicist Vern Caldwell was quoted as saying that “the negro situation is a dangerous one. . . . Between the negro haters and the negro lovers there are many chances to run afoul of situations that could run the gamut.” 41 The awareness of multiple audiences here reinforced the idea that, from its inception, there was always a certain incoherent mentality attached to the film. Disney wasn’t really sure whom to reach with
Song of the South
or how to reach them. Originally written by a conservative Southerner, Dalton Reymond, the script was later rewritten by an East Coast liberal, Maurice Rapf. In this regard, the script itself reflected a split personality. “One of the reasons Walt had hired Rapf to work with Reymond,” writes Gabler, “was to temper what he feared would be Reymond’s white southern slant. Rapf was a minority, a Jew, and an outspoken left-winger, and he himself feared that the film would inevitably be Uncle Tomish. ‘That’s exactly why I want you to work on it,’ Walt told him, ‘because I know that you don’t think I should make the movie. You’re against Uncle Tomism, and you’re a radical.’” 42 Gabler believes that Rapf gave the film a more liberal sensibility. In contrast, Cripps argues that Rapf’s hiring
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