Destino is a classic that took 57 years to make. © Disney 2002.

Destino
Much has been written about this 57-years-in-the-making surrealist wonder, but in case you missed the media blitz, here’s a brief recap: In the 1940s, Salvador Dali was in Los Angeles working on the dream sequence in Alfred Hitchcock’s Spellbound when he and Walt Disney met at a party. These two avant-garde rascals decided they had to work together, so Walt set him up with animator John Hench and Salvador started to clock in and out at the studio as he helped storyboard their short film. Destino formed around a song by Dora Luz, recorded for Disney circa The Three Caballeros but never used; Dali picked it sound unheard because he was a firm believer in Destiny. But the film itself was designed to go in one of Disney’s omnibus features like Make Mine Music, and when no room could be made and the “package” film trend died out, the film was shelved.

The storyboards sat in the Disney archives for years, with many original drawings by Dali and Hench disappearing over time. Diabolically, Hench had learned to ape Dali’s style exactly, so many “Dali originals” from Destino that started popping up in art galleries proved to be Hench drawings instead. Eventually Fantasia/2000 went into production, and the Destino drawings were unearthed and chatted up in one of the film’s interstitial segments. Roy Disney got on the horn to the company lawyers and was told Dali’s contract specifically stated that Dali’s paintings didn’t belong to the studio unless the film got made. Bingo — a budget was allocated, and the Disney Paris studio got to work on Destino under the direction of animator Dominique Monfery (Tarzan, Hercules) and the supervision of John Hench.

Ten points out of 10 to Roy Disney for admitting up front that he approved Destino so the studio could own Dali’s paintings — and because he wanted to see the film. Full marks, too, to Monfery and associates for their utterly charming result. This is why there is animation: so ants can crawl out of a triangular hole in a giant hand, and then turn into bicycles driven by men in beards wearing baguettes on their heads. If you’ve not yet seen this, imagine driving through a Salvador Dali painting and you’ll be close to picturing the visceral impact of this 2D/3D hybrid. All the Dali trademarks are there, from melting watches to crutches, bell towers, and long late-afternoon shadows. And besides the sheer appeal of the thing, Hench apparently loved it; so for respecting the artists’ original intentions, once again, bravo.