One need only look at the output from Walt Disney Studios in the 1960s and see that, progressively, Walt was less and less interested in animation. During this time, a bevy of so-so live action films were released, along with some that were half-animated and half-live-action, which was a remnant of what made Disney famous—his Alice shorts were among his most successful first ventures.
The Disney animated films of this time were generally lacking. Xerox animation and a decline in a definitive visual style hampered many projects in addition to wilder experimentation in “adapting” the classic stories. For example, The Jungle Book bears no more than characters from Rudyard Kipling’s books.
The peak of this “live action” period, which coincided with Disney’s early death, was Mary Poppins, the wildly popular movie musical that was one of Walt’s greatest achievements: a perfect amalgamation of fantasy, animation, music, and production value. After Disney’s death, another big-budget musical fantasy, Bedknobs and Broomsticks, would appear. The latter has mass appeal among members of my generation who fondly remember it, but it was neither a smash with critics nor audiences.
But I have always seen Mary Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks as part one and three of a loosely related trilogy of live action movie musicals. The second culprit, which was a failure in its time and even went through a period where the Disney Company tried to bury it, was The Happiest Millionaire, an ambitious (and long) adaptation of a Broadway play by Kyle Crichton, who had published the memoirs of Cordelia Drexel-Biddle.
Drexel-Biddle’s father, Anthony J., was an all-American man. As far as historical significance, he was one of the loudest voices urging President Wilson to become involved in World War I. As far as his eccentricities, he owned a large mansion in Philadelphia that included a personal collection of alligators he had personally hunted down in Florida. Behind the mansion, he operated a Bible and boxing college that brought together spiritual vitality with physicality. With a respectable run on Broadway, the rights to Crichton’s play (adapted from the book My Philadelphia Father) were obtained by Disney in hopes of making another lavish musical. Trusted Disney director Norman Tokar and screenwriter A. J. Carothers adapted the tale which included songs by Richard M. and Robert B. Sherman, the greatest songwriters in Disney history. The music alone, including the score by Jack Elliott, had a runtime longer than most Hollywood comedies.
The Happiest Millionaire opened in 1967 and it’s not hard to see why it was a failure. 1967 and 1968 were pivotal years of social change in America. Premiering right on the heels of the Summer of Love, a musical about a Bible-thumping, war-mongering millionaire was about the most out of touch thing the Disney company could produce. Set in the 1910s and featuring no lovable children (as did Mary Poppins), it could be surmised that The Happiest Millionaire was destined to fail or, at the very least, to never capture an audience.
It was originally presented as a “road show” attraction, travelling towns with major premieres and high-priced tickets. Both these sorts of attractions and movie musicals in general were on the decline in Hollywood. These facts contributed to the miserable failure of the film as it was shortened from 164 minutes to 144 and then, in general release, to 118 minutes. For years, this shortest version was the only copy one could get your hands on, only in videocassette form. By removing the “Buena Vista” title card at the beginning of the film, companies like Anchor Bay Entertainment released this version on DVD and I can also distinctly remember watching the film around 3 or 4 in the morning as part of the Disney Channel’s “Vault” in my high school years (my first exposure).
Finally, a 172-minute director’s cut, including scenes that were only achieved through arduous restoration processes, was released by Disney on DVD. I’ve even seen it on Disney+, so it seems Disney no longer shuns the project. But for most Disneyfiles, this movie has almost been completely swept under the rug. While you can hear snips of the music in the Magic Kingdom, The Happiest Millionaire has become a bit of dodo. While not as unsuccessful as the animated films of the early-mid ‘80s, it did its best to break even and is probably only remembered as the film debut of Lesley Ann Warren, who would become best known as Miss Scarlett in the 1985 film Clue.
So, is there anything about Millionaire that is appealing? Plenty—and more where that came from. I could never see it the way Walt saw it—as a film with mass appeal—but what is there is charming, especially the music.
When I’m asked what my favorite Disney song is, I always reply, “Are We Dancing?” People have no idea what I’m talking about, but that is the answer. Beautifully sung by John Davidson (later a game show host) and Warren, it is a waltz tune played when Cordelia meets Angier Duke (yes, those Dukes) and fall in love. Along with this song, there are many that have all the hallmarks of Sherman Bros. classic songs—catchy melodies, zingy lyrics, and bouncing fun.
The film served as the American debut of British pop idol Tommy Steele, who often steals the movie as the confused butler of the Drexel-Biddles. He begins the movie with “Fortuosity,” a delightful song that sums up his happy-go-lucky lifestyle. While at first perplexed by the household, the butler settles into the madness and inherits a bit of his own. While trying to keep Duke from leaving his betrothed, he attempts to get Davidson drunk as a skunk in the number “Let’s Have a Drink On It,” which (again) is perhaps too long, but never loses momentum.
Much has been made of the fact that this is the last Disney film with Walt’s own touch (although he also made early decisions concerning The Aristocats) and, after reading Neal Gabler’s Walt Disney: The Triumph of the American Imagination, I can see why Millionaire appealed to him as a property. In his later years, he was bleakly sad, physically sick, and homesick for a childhood world he couldn’t recover but could reimagine in the form of Disneyland.
I, for one, find Millionaire lovable. It manages to bring a smile to your face despite yourself. Neglecting all I mentioned above about historical context (the changing nature of young people, protests against the Vietnam War, diminishing belief in organized religion), the principal problem with the film is, whereas Poppins and Bedknobs had children, Millionaire focused on young adults. This makes it a very different type of Disney film—it is the story of a man and his blossoming daughter who is trying to find her own way. While we should celebrate this difference, it probably put the nail in the coffin on the movie. The youngest character could still be said to be middle-school aged. The films that always remain with us from the Disney Company capture something of the magical essence of childhood. On that front, Millionaire fails.
But, taken on its own, it’s a success—a driven, musical, mad little odyssey into a distinct American figure. While much of the film focuses on the comedy, when one gets to the end as Fred MacMurray laments the loss of his daughter to a husband, he and Greer Garson sing “It Won’t Be Long ‘Til Christmas,” a song that should speak to anyone who’s ever moved away from home or have resigned themselves to only seeing their children once in a while.
So, if you want to see something both indicative of and completely different from most classic Disney fare, watch The Happiest Millionaire. Understood as a period piece, it is charming, uplifting and (while butt-numbing), has enough on its own to entertain if not enlighten.
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