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Can you feel the sex tonight?
I was 16 years senior when Disney’s The Lion King first hit theaters.
I fell in love with it. The opening sequence is breathtaking. The music is entrancing. The story hit all the right spots for me emotionally. It was the first movie I ever went back to see a second time in the theater.
In the story, a lion cub named Simba runs away from abode, believing he’s responsible for a terrible tragedy. After several very emotional scenes, the tension is finally broken when Simba finds himself in the firm of the film’s comic relief: a warthog named Pumbaa and a meerkat named Timon.
I loved Timon and Pumbaa, and so I distinctly remember when, during all the press surrounding the film, I browse that Nathan Road, the voice of Timon, had said that he believed Timon and Pumbaa were a lgbtq+ couple.
I was furious.
How dare he?, I thought. I don’t care if he is the voice of the character; how dare he try to sexualize cartoon characters?
I didn’t know then that Nathan Lane was gay himself, but if I had known, it would only have made me angrier. In my mind, he was trying to assign sexuality—and a perverse sexuality at that—to two
Ready for a hot take? I don’t always love animated films. Give me the crappy cut-out look of South Park or the gloriously fluid old college Looney Tunes shorts, but otherwise, I sometimes feel like my eyes are bleeding. I don’t mean to take anything away from the incredibly talented artisans who have brought so much joy and wonder to the world. It’s an eyeball thing. Speaking of which, I also don’t like the eyeballs on Disney characters. They’re so giant and round and sweet. I think I know one person in the world with eyes like that and everyone calls him Aladdin, but it’s not really a compliment. Everyone else I know squints and looks dead inside. Maybe I want new friends, or maybe I’m just cranky.
All of this is to say that despite the cries that Hollywood operates at a bankrupt creative standstill, that cash grabs represent the new normal filled with remakes and reboots, and that cynical decisions only occur on days that end in “Y”, I don’t necessarily hate that Disney has decided to churn out “live action” versions of their classic animated films. As much as I loved the authentic 1994 The Lion King, a CGI, photorealistic update sounded love something I could watch with
The Representations of Gender, Sexuality and Race in Disney’s The Lion King
UNIVERSITY OF BRIGHTON The Representations of Gender, Sexuality and Race in Disney‟s The Lion King Georgia Vraketta, 09827880, HD603 Humanities (Falmer) Ewan Kirkland - HD603 Introduction “The notion that animation is an innocent medium, ostensibly for children, and largely dismissed in film histories, has done much to inhibit the proper discussion of issues concerning representation” (Wells 1998: 187). Animated film films, but especially those created by Disney, hold been an important aspect of children‟s culture for many decades. These films can primarily be seen as a glaring example of the kinds of entertainment that “stimulate the imagination, protect innocence, and create a healthy instinct of adventure, all of which is assumed to be „good‟ for kids” (Giroux and Pollock 2010: 91). Disney has released fifty animated features (Walt Disney Animation Studios) since 1937, when Snow Colorless and the Seven Dwarfs hit the theatres. However, The Lion King, which was released in 1994, had astronomical success at the box office in comparison with the accomplishment of The Little
For Billy Eichner, getting cast in Disney’s photo-real remake of The Lion King as Timon — the wisecracking meerkat companion to Seth Rogen’s happy-go-lucky warthog — was a Broadway kid’s visualize come true.
“I grew up doing musical theater,” Eichner told BuzzFeed News. “I was on a track to be on Broadway in my head. I was taking singing lessons with this big singing coach in New York who taught all the kids who wanted to be Gavroche in Les Mis. I was always too giant and fat to play Gavroche at the time. But I wanted to be on Broadway.”
Eichner kept chasing after his musical theater dreams in college, but after graduation, he fell instead into a career in comedy, first with a famous off-off-Broadway stage demonstrate that ultimately led to his signature series of Billy on the Street videos in which he yells at people in Manhattan about pop customs with celebrity guests in tow.
“All of a sudden, I was a comedian, which was always sort of weird to me,” he said. “The first few times I saw people note ‘comedian Billy Eichner,’ I was enjoy, comedian? What are they talking about — I’m an actor. But then I got over it because it works.”
Billy on the Street’s viral popularity has le