101 DALMATIANS. Heartwarming and uplifting story

Not all Disney animations evoke unconditional affection. Not all are the perfect family films. From today’s perspective, one might even say that Disney’s legend—of a monopoly on children’s imagination—was born out of struggle. Over time, the animations delved into controversial stereotypes (ah, those princesses passively waiting for a prince’s kiss), flirted with the formula of serious thrillers (child trafficking in “Pinocchio”) or even horror (the nightmare, reminiscent of drug-induced visions, of the drunk elephant in “Dumbo”, or the hypnotic, treacherous cat in “Alice in Wonderland”). Crafting the perfect, universal code to communicate with audiences took time. Though these films had their flaws, they are undoubtedly products of their era and timeless cinema.

I won’t hide it—I’ve watched Disney animations very closely. I seek out and sometimes even force myself to find moments when these films—made for children, after all—veer off into curious digressions, surprise with formal boldness, suggest alternative interpretations, or evoke unexpected emotions. I enjoy it when the tightly controlled narrative falls apart, either deliberately or not, and directs attention elsewhere.

“101 Dalmatians” is a film stitched together a little differently. Its seams don’t unravel as easily, offering no real chance for revisionist interpretations. It’s a lighter and more accessible production. Disney found an exceptionally approachable formula: in the disciplined storytelling and the clear-cut character creation. The division between good and evil is unmistakable. These same principles apply to the construction of the film’s world, built on clear symbolism. The gothic, dark mansion of Cruella De Vil contrasts with the warm and safe barn inhabited by nurturing mother cows. These are the film’s bright, easily recognizable points on the map. Even the youngest viewer will have no trouble navigating them.

In the 1961 animation, the story centers on Robert, a poor pianist experiencing creative block, and his dog Pongo. The Dalmatian senses the stagnation in the air but knows exactly how to fix it. The only solution is to find a partner. Pongo spots the perfect candidates through the window: one for his owner and one for himself. Anita is walking with Perdita, a Dalmatian just like Pongo. Soon, a meeting in the park takes place, and after a humorous accident, affection turns into love. Before long, fifteen puppies are born. But lurking in the shadows is the sinister and desperate fur lover, Cruella De Vil. When she fails to buy the puppies, the only option left is theft (the thieves hired for the job—Horace and Jasper—are straight out of a slapstick comedy).

The creators cleverly reverse the dynamic in the human-dog relationship. In Disney’s film, it is the dog who is the caretaker—the more determined, sensible, and responsible one, with intellectual superiority and the first voice. Just look at the pairs of people walking their dogs that Pongo observes through the window. It is the humans who adjust and resemble their dogs in appearance, pace, and behavior. These portraits are not only for visual humor but also to emphasize the hierarchy. The creators of “101 Dalmatians” consistently maintain this inverted dynamic. That’s why the rescue mission is organized by the animals. Only they possess the skills to find the missing puppies.

“101 Dalmatians” is a heartwarming and uplifting story. However, there’s one intriguing paradox, tied to the most iconic character of the animation—Cruella De Vil. For Anita and her partner, she is the source of a series of misfortunes and disasters. Yet, at the same time, Cruella inspires Robert to write a song. A radio hit of the season that financially allows the main couple to adopt all 101 dogs, the would-be victims of Cruella.

Thus, the antagonist’s brutal plan falls apart, and Cruella, despite herself, ends up contributing to the miraculous rescue of the dogs doomed to death. This twist is both thought-provoking and delightful. It also serves as an elegant conclusion. Sometimes, the beginnings of something bad can lead to something wonderful.