Ann Noble and Leo Marks in “Crevasse” at the Victory Theatre (Photo by Matt Kaminura)
Storied Traditions of Misogyny and Bigotry
A 17-Year-Old’s Epiphany about Walt Disney’s Influence, Thanks to Playwright Tom Jacobson
By Lucinda Linklater
The author, Lucinda Linklater (Photo, courtesy of Lucinda Linklater)
This essay is part of the Stage Raw/Unusual Suspects Youth Journalism Fellowship
“We work the same magic with different tools,” says Walt Disney to Nazi propagandist filmmaker Leni Riefenstahl in Tom Jacobson’s play Crevasse. Disney is the only studio head willing to meet with Reifenstahl when she comes to Hollywood seeking distribution for her film Olympia. However, the business meeting quickly reveals itself as something far more unsettling as Disney realizes his magical animations and Riefenstahl’s propaganda films are more similar than not.
Being an estranged Disney fan myself, most of the movies I watched in my early ages contained subjects and themes that I couldn’t completely comprehend, yet I believe their messages settled in my subconscious for years to come. From some of my favorite Lions and Fairy Godmothers, I learned you can either learn from the past or run from it, and that even miracles take a little time. But I also learned, in a subtle, almost imperceptible way, the only characters that can receive these beautiful declarations of hope and win in the end, are the princesses who look a certain way. This is the narrative that many of my friends and I have grown up with and, at least for myself, these disguised prejudices have somewhat lodged themselves in my mind. In the fall-out of the 2024 election, I wondered how much Disney contributed to that innate and internalized misogyny that so drastically influenced the outcome.
Leni Riefenstahl started her career as an actress, starring in German “mountain films.” Inspired by the directors she worked with, she learned about camera angles, lighting, and eventually began developing her own film concepts. But, Riefenstahl’s legacy is most notably tied to making powerful propaganda films for the Nazi party. In 1938, Riefenstahl released Olympia, a film documenting the 1936 Berlin Olympics which reinforced the Nazi’s emphasis on physical perfection and discipline.
Archive photo of Leni Riefenstahl with you-know-who, circa 1933
Among a couple of relationships played by Ann Nobel and Leo Marks in Crevasse, the centerpiece is Riefenstahl and Disney, who takes Riefenstahl on a tour of his studio. They bond over both dropping out of school to pursue art and Riefenstahl’s first time seeing a play, which was Disney’s very own Snow White. The two exchange these brief pleasantries before quickly realizing they are alike in their crudeness and compatible in their respective genius. Initially, I wondered where this quick compatibility came from, since the characters had just met and Riefenstahl was known as a controversial figure in Hollywood, shunned by all of Disney’s allies. But soon, their swift rapport begins to make sense.
There is so much happening under the surface of Tom Jacobson’s dialogue and in this particular scene where he simply but effectively weaves in Disney’s ability to mask his prejudices, to the point that he might not even fully realize they’re there. “Do you know what Easter-eggs are in movies,” Disney asks Riefenstahl, explaining how he carefully places an image into a film, to leave impressions on viewers’ subconscious. Disney seems to understand that the only way to implement these secret messages is to do it inconspicuously. This is how Disney’s brand of propaganda has been so successful and influential over the years, outlasting even his own lifetime. Jacobson masterfully juxtaposes the characters to pose a compelling question: Which is more dangerous: Prejudice and propaganda that are overt and easily recognized, or the kind that are hidden, subtly slithering their way into our perceptions of what is normal?
The rapid-fire dialogue actively propels Disney’s slip ups that show his inner biases that unwittingly reveal his moral ambiguity. This reinforces the theme that hatred doesn’t have to be overt to be real. “It’s not in my nature to hate anyone, I’m not political by a long shot” Disney says, to which Riefenstahl justifiably responds, but “everything is politics, all moral choices, like Pinnochio being strong and generous and telling the truth!” What I found so interesting is that, for all of Leni’s conflicted and terrible views, she can detect the prejudices in Disney’s work and call him out.
Walt Disney’s facade of neutrality is mostly performative, a mask that enables him to keep working and build his monopoly during his lifetime. Yet he is still quick to label Leni as a propagandist. “If Olympia is propaganda, Snow White is propaganda,” Riefenstahl retorts, adding, “Women are either innocent, like Snow White, or evil, like the Queen with her potions and spells.” Ironically, Riefenstahl easily detects the misogyny in his work, perhaps as a woman she is able to find what he refuses to see. This made me think about how I’ve internalized the judgments Disney propagates, thinking that girls have to wear pretty dresses and are only deserving of a happy end because a prince has kissed them.
Walt Disney in his studio
Disney seems taken aback by this. He doesn’t want to label himself as a Nazi, and it shocks him that she would openly imply such a connection. Perhaps coming face-to-face with this truth is the reason he ultimately chooses not to distribute her film. At first, he enjoyed talking about stereotypes, using Mickey’s voice to say “Heil Hitler,” and discussing the importance of weeding out the weak. But he refuses to publicly align himself with someone who is shunned by every other Hollywood studio. Historically, Disney’s reputation as an anti-Semite is largely attributed to this very meeting. Even though he never followed through with their partnership, his decision does not come from any kind of moral compass but rather from an understanding of the larger implications.
Tom Jacobson’s play does an astute job of subtly connecting Disney’s propaganda to Leni Riefenstahl’s. I never would have made this connection, and it made me think about the power of media and its ability to influence generations—now more accessible and less filtered than ever with social media. I couldn’t help but wonder: if Disney had distributed Leni Riefenstahl’s film, would he have provided license for neo-Nazis to unashamedly spread their hate, or would his career have ended prematurely? Throughout my 17 years of being alive, I have never, until now, consistently watched people in positions of huge power blatantly attack women, single women, and other minority groups so publicly. Crevasse compelled me to hold Disney accountable for his contribution to the evolution of propaganda, scapegoating, and misogyny, for the prejudices he has built subliminally into impressionable minds of multitudes of generations.
“Crevasse,” a co-production of Son of Semele Ensemble and The Victory Theatre, has closed.
