Howard: Done too soon

Howard (2018) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated TV-PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.28.20

 

I remember — vividly — when everything changed.

 

Songs had been an essential part of Disney animated features going all the way back to 1937’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, although their placement — and quality — tended to be random.

 

Lyricist Howard Ashman works with star Paige O'Hara, in order to shape her performance
so that the nuances of "Belle," the opening story-song in Beauty and the Beast, are
perfect from start to finish.

Every hit that emerged — “When You Wish Upon a Star,” from Pinocchio; “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes,” from Cinderella; and “The Bare Necessities,” from The Jungle Book — left dozens of instantly forgettable tunes behind. Most did little to augment or advance their respective storylines; they were simply jammed into the film every so often, of necessity (so the theory went), to prevent viewers from getting bored between songs.

 

Such films were no different than clumsy live-action movie musicals, where the action would pause — for no good reason — just so the characters could break into song.

 

Then, after Disney churned out a series of unremarkable animated features from the mid-1970s through most of the ’80s, came 1989’s The Little Mermaid.

 

Such a revelation.

 

It felt as though the genre had been re-invented as a professional Broadway musical, with clever, lyric-rich songs that not only were their own integrated book, but were brilliantly employed to advance the plot.

 

No surprise, since the songs came from somebody who grew up with a Broadway musical mentality.

 

Disney documentarian Don Hahn’s Howard, debuting on Disney Plus, is an affectionate, long-overdue tribute to Howard Ashman, the genius lyricist who — alongside composer Alan Menken — virtually transformed the Disney animated musical template. The tragic irony: Even as this was happening — even as The Little Mermaid was released, on Nov. 17, 1989; even as Ashman was working on the studio’s next two projects — he had only 16 months to live.

 

Ashman was one of the early, high-profile individuals to die of AIDS, at a time when the disease still was cruelly dismissed as “gay cancer.” Hahn’s film doesn’t shy from this aspect of Ashman’s final years; the approach is equally frank with respect to his gay lifestyle. Such candor speaks to Hahn’s belief that we now live in more enlightened times, which contrasts greatly to the challenges Ashman faced, as he grew up and entered the entertainment industry.