A little more blogging on Oliver M. Johnston, Jr.

Of course with the passing of a now-legendary artist like Ollie Johnston the blogosphere as expected is filling up with tributes and ponderings of all kinds. If you read this blog you're bound to visit Cartoon Brew on a regular basis; they've just posted a lovely essay by Brad Bird that must be read.

Jaime Weinman writes a blog dealing with pop culture-entertainment that's one of the very best and most knowledgeable anywhere. I can't remember how I first found his site, but he writes often about animation and seems to have an archive of info at his fingertips(and I don't just mean Google).

To mark the loss of Ollie Johnston he's reproduced something I suspect Ollie would really love people to read: an article from the LA times about Ollie's backyard scale train--from 1956! Interestingly--although one would think it would be a great little tidbit of information--the fact that Ollie was a Disney animator isn't mentioned though Walt himself is, due to his purchase of trains for then-new Disneyland. One wonders if Walt himself was present at the "clambake" get-together the paper describes. Probably not, but you never know--if he was, he might well have asked not to be mentioned, as he'd have been enjoying his own off-hours personal hobby. But that's just wild speculation.

Read it here.

I also recommend a visit to Michael Barrier's reminiscence of Ollie(you might have to scroll down a bit). The photos taken with Frank and Ollie at Barrier's home in 1977 are priceless as time machines(if you've lived long enough to remember 1977).

Ollie Johnston 1912-2008

The last surviving member of the Disney animation review board during its golden age-the group of hand-picked artists Walt Disney called his own "nine old men"--and more importantly a beloved artist, mentor, patriarch and husband--passed into history today. Ollie Johnston was 95 years old.

This sad news just came over the transom. Later on I'll try to collect some thoughts, but I'm sure in the meantime many more eloquent tributes than anything I might compose will be posted.

10:45 pm:
I've had an awful lot of visitors to the blog today due to the news of Ollie's death. It makes me wish that I were better qualified to really write something of substance about him-he surely deserves it. But my take would have to be that of the admiring fan more than anything else. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but there are so many people out there, in the business and just in love with animation who had real, personal ties with and experiences involving him. I'm sure many of them will express themselves in print or elsewhere in days to come, as they have already, for years, in lectures and at schools, in interviews and at tributes and screenings. Those will be the ones to look for. There are bound to be some fantastic and moving memories.
Let's just say that if you ask anyone who's anyone in our business, they'll have a story about Ollie Johnston: his work, his advice, guidance, criticism, inspiration...encompassing all of it the sheer delight of watching his animation performances. That at least I can say I share with them. We all share in it-whether fan, pro, child or adult. He was one of a handful of geniuses of the art who made millions laugh, cry and dream, and most of all believe in his drawings, believe them to be alive. I don't know if he and Frank coined the term "Illusion of Life" but with their book they became the preeminent representatives of that mysterious, wonderful effect. It was all done with drawings. And talent, heart and sincerity. And a heck of a lot of backbreaking work over a disc, work that from his pencil seemed effortless--which was a big part of the trick.
The same goes for his former colleagues. here they are:

Johnny Lounsbery
Les Clark
Wooilie Reitherman
Milt Kahl
Eric Larson
Marc Davis
Ward Kimball
Frank Thomas
and
Ollie Johnston
Requisiat in pace

101 Dalmatians, 3 Bloggers

swiped/borrowed from Michael Sporn's blog, which you should visit immediately

A triumvirate of essential blogs are contributing to an analysis of the just-released-on-DVD "101 Dalmations". Hans Perk has posted the drafts(the records of who animated what for the entire film), Mark Mayerson is putting up his shot for shot "mosaics"--a kind of visual draft, and invaluable--along with his typically sharp and interesting commentary. And the redoubtable Michael Sporn has done a fantastic post on the "art student" girl's walk--the slouching gal with her matching afghan hound.

It's been said before of this kind of loose collaboration, but this is really the best of the blogosphere: when something like this is put out there and is available to everyone and anyone. What riches.

All of these guys deserve a lot of applause they can't hear for their efforts.

Tex Avery and Mike Maltese: a Double Centennial Tribute

My friend Sharon Colman asked me to an evening put on by the Academy last Monday. I accepted immediately and it's a good thing I did(and that Sharon thinks ahead)because by the time 3/24 rolled around the event at the Linwood Dunn theater had completely sold out.

I think the practically-new Dunn theater seats 600, but the staff was resorting to pulling out folding chairs and holding up the start of the program to try and accomodate everyone. Just before the lights went down Tom Sito was spotted doing a Grouchoesque run in front of the screen heading for the last of the seats. I saw Dave Smith, the longtime Disney archivist, and Jerry Beck(natch). There were enormous gourmet cookies and coffee beforehand, but no one needed caffeine to last through the 14 shorts. Joe Adamson, an author and film historian I greatly admire, chose the cartoons screened. Joe would win my undying gratitude if all he'd done was write "Groucho, Harpo, Chico and Sometimes Zeppo", in my opinion far and away the best book about the Marx Brothers(and absolutely the funniest). But he's also done a few other classic titles, most notably Tex Avery: King of Cartoons" and "Bugs Bunny: 50 Years and Only One Grey Hare".

The evening's program; CLICK the image to open in a larger size

It was a good selection. I'd seen all but one of the shorts before(as had Sharon). Some I'd seen many, many times. As great a cartoon as it is, I'd have said beforehand that I could probably skip "What's Opera, Doc?" only because I have seen it about 3,000 times--and I'd have been wrong in my imagined saturation-point-reaching. Because for all those viewings I've probably only seen it on the big screen 3 or 4 times. What a revelation. It's incredible to see Maurice Noble's color and design the way he meant them to look. And of course there's the added factor of having a real, large, live audience.

I love the romance and mystery of the film experience. It's kind of sacred to me, if that's not too strong a term. You sit in utter silence(well, hopefully) in a darkened theatre, the curtain parts, and you hold your breath a moment. And boy--the beauty, spirit and vibrancy of that Warner Bros cartoon shield leaping out at you accompanied by the most terrific studio orchestra ever...that's got to be the king of all intros. It's interesting to enjoy it today, in the respectful company of hundreds of AMPAS members and cartoon fans, and think of how those guys--Maltese, Avery--felt about their careers while they were working at them.
The program (whose cover is pictured above) contains a couple of excellent essays on the honorees, both offering food for thought and perspective. By the early 70s Tex Avery was a bit of a broken spirit due largely to tragedies in his family life, and he apparently considered his brilliant work for Warner's and MGM as just so much silliness--disposable, even "embarrassing".

It's one of the merits of our latter-day media overload that we now give Tex Avery the credit he earned and deserved as a genius of film comedy and an animation innovator. He wasn't completely overlooked at the time, certainly--but his reputation was mostly limited to his own small industry. He didn't break out beyond the confines of a tiny community in notoriety as, for instance, Frank Tashlin eventually did--but Tashlin left animation for live action and thereby merited wearing long pants, figuratively speaking, in the eyes of critics and writers--and even then, he too remained in yet another segregated category, comedy.

Added to the cartoons shown Monday were a couple of clips of both men reminsicing--Avery from "Bugs Bunny Superstar" and an audio-only clip of Mike Maltese spinning away in a distinctly New Yawk accent. It was especially nice to have them represent themselves a bit among their own work. After the shorts a panel of colleagues and one daughter--Maltese's--sat in front and offered their thoughts. Stan Freberg was a last minute additon to those listed in the program and reincarnated his voice for Pete Puma, as well as recounted his entry into voice acting(although he and/or I were fuzzy about the dates and circumstances--somehow he had Bob Clampett standing next to Chuck Jones at the time he auditioned for Pete Puma. Not too sure about that!). The speakers' remarks all gave the honorees that much more of a real presence, although there's no doubt their work spoke loudly for them. What a unique legacy is the short cartoon.

I have to do a plug of sorts for one of my favorite organizations: the Academy does a full roster of great screenings and programs open to the public--as is their fantastic research library located in Beverly Hills. The Dunn theater complex is a relatively new addition, and its location makes the Academy events there all the more accessible and attractive to attend. And the tickets cost about $5. You can't miss. Usually the only attention they receive is for the glitzy TV show that's on every spring, and that's understandable--but they do a lot more, and it's a resource we in L.A. should really take full advantage of.
In the foyer on the Dunn theater, by the way, there was a great display of vintage and modern matte paintings. A must see if you're in the area.
ADDENDUM Indispensable animation pro and blogger Hans Perk, who was also present, reminds me that it it's also the 100th anniversary of another cartoon great: Mel Blanc. In additon, clicking on Hans' name will take you to his own list of other animation notables who'd be celebrating their 100th anniversary in 2008. Check it out..

A Class By Himself

in Paris last May. I made up the french and have no idea if it's accurate.

I haven't updated The Blackwing Diaries for more than two months and it's about time I jumped in and posted.
I never meant that the gap would be such a long one. Part of the struggle to get back in the swing and just go on and hit "publish" is due to my ambivalence about whether to address why I haven't been writing.

This really isn't a personal blog. It's meant to be as widely inclusive and journalistic as I can manage regarding my vocation, animation. The easiest option would be to skip over the personal and get right back to Topic A.
But first I'm going to ask your indulgence as I write a bit about this blog's number one follower, the real audience I am always writing for, my husband Peter Bateman.

Pete last August at the beach in Ventura

He wasn't in animation but he certainly knew plenty about it, and not just from being around me. He couldn't draw for beans, at least not as we usually judge these things. I used to kid him that his development as an artist had coalesced around the 5th grade from the evidence(which was pretty entertaining to see)--but he had excellent taste and a great eye.

He knew more about film and loved movies more than anyone I've ever known, and that's saying something as I've known some people with incredible credentials. He was also a reader of prodigious scope, enjoying everything from Michael Crichton to Malcolm Lowry, from Ann Beattie and Claude Lévi-Strauss to MAD magazine, Sgt Rock and Martin and Lewis comics.
His senior paper at NYU film school was on Howard Hawks and he had a great love for French new wave cinema, in particular the lesser-known works of Jacques Rivette and Agnes Varda and the better-known Renoir, Godard and Truffaut. His taste was wide-ranging, eclectic, informed--he seemed to know everything. I'm a pretty big film buff and I know a lot of trivia, but I'm sure I learned at least half of what I know from Pete. The other half I probably get wrong in the details. Pete never forgot the details.

Every entry I made here was read by him first, as it went into his email inbox the second it posted. Many's the time I'd get a phone call at work from Pete and hear a reaction to something I couldn't believe he'd read so soon. Usually he complimented me--okay, he actually complimented me every time whether I deserved it or not. He was a cheerleader.

This time for the first time I'm going to have to go into his email myself and see the message from Blogger that Blackwing Diaries has been updated, because Pete can't. He died on February 13th. His death ended 15 months of unbelievable courage on his part, enduring treatments, several operations, and living life with that large heavy other shoe poised and liable to drop--we knew not when.

Some readers may remember that in October of 2006 I was on a panel for a talk organized by the Animation Guild (my union) involving Geena Davis and her research into gender representation in animation.
I had been flattered and excited to be part of a panel with Geena, Dean De Blois, Jill Culton, Brenda Chapman and Fred Seibert moderated by the union president, Kevin Koch. But came the day, Pete and I had just heard that afternoon from his doctor that something awful was wrong with him, something that would be confirmed after test results came. But they wouldn't be ready for several days. All we could do that evening was wait. It was pretty horrible.
As I sat on the dais I could see Pete's face framed between the shoulders of the row in front of him, terribly pale. I wondered as the various questions were fielded and answered between panelists and audience what our lives were going to be--how much life did we have? Could it be something not so bad? Would it be the absolute worst news imaginable?
Some old friends and colleagues I hadn't seen in ages came up afterwards to say hello. I don't know what I said. I felt a million miles removed from Burbank, in fact from anywhere normal and familiar on planet Earth. It was all incomprehensible, surreal.

The following Tuesday the boom was dropped: Pete had kidney cancer, and it was advanced. He'd have to have one kidney removed immediately, undergo aggressive treatment...and that was that. His only symptom had been a loss of about 10 pounds over several months, which he'd put down to being extra busy and on his feet more than usual at a new job. He was fit. He'd never smoked. He was otherwise--otherwise!--in great health. He had no history of cancer in his family. It was just bad luck, "one of those things." He was 48.
Thus began our lives "A.D."--after diagnosis.

2007 was a very full year for us. Everyone at work (where I was in the thick of storyboarding and voicing a lot of bees) was so supportive-tactful, accommodating, and compassionate. I was and am quite emotional about the loyalty and love my studio friends who knew the situation showed me. Work really is a great tonic--one Pete had too little of as he'd had to leave his own job soon after the year started. But he continued to work: on a long-planned coffee table book of rare film stills he'd collected over the years; proposals for articles; appraisals. Together we sold and wrote a lengthy article for FIRSTS magazine, on author Betty MacDonald. We went to Paris last May, a place neither of us two francophiles had been, and loved it (of course).
We did what I know a lot of people in our situation do--take life not just one day at a time but one minute at a time. There's no tomorrow to fret about, just now. It doesn't always work in practice but one tries.
In hindsight things were pretty great until late October, when the downhill trajectory became faster and steeper. As usual we shared Halloween, our birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Always there was chemo, transfusions, different cocktails of drugs side by side with our own plans for trips, for projects, for little bits of future fun.

In January there was a weeklong trip to Stanford for a treatment that proved futile. Then there was the hospital, then we were home, and then it was obvious that he wouldn't rally. This is when I stopped feeling as if I could write anything, or indeed do anything.

He got a horribly rotten deal but he never, ever complained about it. He made friends of his doctors and nurses. He went from a typical guy who hated needles and all things medical to a stoic, blase patient with the highest pain threshold imaginable--even his specialists were staggered that he'd managed as well as he did for months. To some people he barely referred to his illness--to others, not at all. He hated to burden people or bring them down.

He had the happy talent of being kind, encouraging and likable to anyone and everyone. He was great with kids and dogs, cats and birds and horses. He loved good wine and knew all about it. He played a serious game of chess. He was a great listener and he'd laugh at all my inanities.
There isn't a thing--whether in two dimensions or three--in the world as I know it that doesn't have a connection with him for me. He's left an incomprehensible hole behind him. I'm still constantly on the verge of asking him something, of wanting to tell him an anecdote or run something by him. Again I think of that inbox and I'm reminded of my dependence on his thoughts about things.

By the way, I know he would want me to insist that all of you guys and girls act on the first hint of any differences in your health, no matter how insignificant they might seem. Trust your intuition--and most of all, get a regular physical. Much better to be safe than sorry. Kidney cancer is called "the silent killer" for a reason. It's one of several forms of cancer with few or no early symptoms. Take care of yourselves.

Thanks for your indulgence, and for all your feedback and interest these past years.
I'll be returning tomorrow to my regularly scheduled nonsense. I enjoy doing this blog, and I know my biggest editor, critic and sounding board's gentle spirit will remain with me as long as I'm around.

Thank you, Pete.

Under the big Irish sky.

Scrambled Ink book-coming in summer '08

Dave Pimentel and JJ Villard after our group trek to the Comic Con last summer.You couldn't find a better bunch of traveling companions.


An early rough splash page we put together for the book--this isn't the design, nothing here is final(especially color)-very, very early; this version also doesn't yet include the name of Keith Baxter; left column top to bottom is Ken, Dave D. and JJ; on the right is Dave P., me and Ennio

This blog is usually reserved for touting animation-related doings other than my own, but I'd like to give a heads up on a group project that six of us(all story artists working on the same crew, save JJ who was in visdev)hatched 18 months ago after visiting ComicCon '06 and being mightily inspired with the artists' books that were beginning to appear in ever-increasing numbers.

Since every one of us independently had thoughts of doing a sketchbook and had started exploring the various self-publishing options we decided to do one book together and split the expense. Eventually the book of sketches became a book of stories--one we still planned to do ourselves--but several months after that the founder of comics/book/entertainment company Dark Horse, Mike Richardson, came to Dreamworks to give a talk that most of us attended. A particularly intrepid soul among us approached Mike and pitched him our book. He liked it, we sent a rough dummy--and contracts were signed.
Our self-publishing venture had changed into a real publishing deal with a real editor, Diana Schutz(who's edited for and worked with Will Eisner and Frank Miller among others, ye gods!).
So in time for the ComicCon of 2008, our book "Scrambled Ink" will be out this summer in hardcover.

I'm in the company of a great group of guys with individual points of view: Dave Derrick, Dave Pimentel, Ennio Torresan, Ken Morrissey(who eventually brought Keith Baxter on board to write the prose for his story) and last but never least the inimitable JJ Villard. We did stories from 'the back of our brains'(as Ernie Kovacs might say) and ones we had had percolating for a while on the front burner, too. They're all quite different from each other--hence the "scrambled" title--which at one time we imagined might have a vintage menu look for the the table of contents, (as can be somewhat gleaned from the old page above). It's not like that now--there's not a retro diner menu design in it--but it's still a melange, that's for sure.

Dave Pimentel drew Ennio Torresan, me, and David Derrick taking a break last spring; I'm wondering why I am pictured drawing with a big smile, though. Given the date I'd probably just made reservations for Paris-that kept me smiling for two months-before and after.

They're all good friends as well as great coworkers and my life would be so much more dull without them. It's a hackneyed phrase but true: I'm honored to be in their company. I think--I hope--that our combined stories will appeal. It's great of Dark Horse, Mike and Diana to help us get it out there.

Coming soon!

The Cartoon Art Museum in San Francisco hosts Mary Blair(among others)

I'd heard about the Cartoon Art Museum for years but was only recently able to pay a quick visit. Located in the heart of downtown San Francisco, it's a relatively small space packed with rare and beautiful art for the eyes to feast upon. Two of its current shows feature Mary Blair and Edward Gorey-in the latter's case, all to do with his designs for the stage play "Dracula" in the late 70s.

First, the Blair show:

Ten years ago a now-defunct animation store/gallery hosted what I think was the first major show of Blair artwork, and to my knowlege this is only the second. It's not quite as vast an array as that earlier show but it's certainly a must-see. Everything is great, and offers an opportunity to learn something. All of us have seen Mary Blair's work reproduced and posted over and over again, but as with all art nothing beats seeing the originals. Most of what's on display appears courtesy of Mary's son Kevin, but Pete Docter loaned some beautiful pieces from his collection as well.

an early watercolor, an unusual Blair given what we're used to thinking of when we think of her paintings, possibly done while a student at Chouinard

Even better-and much larger-in person than the Golden Book we all know



Quite without planning to I took some pictures with my iphone. I post a selection here very aware that the image quality is poor, and that's intentional. I wouldn't want to reproduce things that are privately owned or that could possibly be used in any commercial way. This is just by way of seducing any and all of you to get up (or down or west) to San Francisco and visit the artwork yourselves if you possibly can.

a later, non-Disney advert for cigarettes; gouache



There's always a lot of talk about the obvious influence of Mary Blair on artists today--so much so, in fact, that it's led in some circles to a bit of a backlash towards her or towards the stylings of artists who've been inspired by her. But when you see these up close and without the filters of photography(either the still camera's or the animation stand's)or the limitations of the published page, even now they leap out at the viewer and are as new and fresh as they must have been half a century ago. To see her technique up close is to appreciate how incredibly skilled she was. Intuitive, surely; imaginative and whimsical, yes--but also plain, keen, brilliant, diamond-hard thinking going on. It's still a big wow.

As for her impact on the current generation of artists, well, everyone's influenced by something, and a good number are influenced by everything. Blair casts a huge and prodigious shadow, and just as the Brandywine school founded by Howard Pyle a hundred years ago resulted in men and women who absorbed and adapted his theories and style into their own eventual identities, so it is with giants such as Mary Blair. In short--there's much worse to be inspired by, and I can't think of anything but good coming from learning at the feet of a master. Individual style and approach always will out eventually, anyway--and the metamorphosis is fascinating to be able to see.

In the notes that accompany the paintings on the wall the admission is made that there was some difficulty, something of a tough fit for Mary's art in the medium of Disney's animated features and shorts. Most of us have read the quotes about that, and with our love and reverence for the more constructed, dimensional aspects of Disney's character animation we can try to understand, even empathize with the animators who'd be frustrated when told by Walt to "get this stuff up on the screen".

But just as with those visual development artists working today whose work is at first glance as far from the final effect of CG animation as is imaginable, it seems impossible to me that any artist, any filmmaker wouldn't be inspired simply by absorbing the spirit of images like these--not to mention the color, the mood, the storytelling that's there. I guess I can't really understand the resistance to any of Blair's work back then--it's so obviously grounded in solid, three-dimensional knowlege--and proves how far an expert can take representational design--of animals, of humans--and push it while keeping it coherent and visually appealing. Yet resistance did exist. John Canemaker offers some ideas about why this might have been so in his singular book, whose title is shared with this exhibit.

There's much more to see in the rest of the Museum's space, including these gems:

A story sketch from Dumbo

A beautiful watercolor spot cartoon by Eldon Dedini

A 1920s single-panel comic from a woman named Gladys Parker

Many of us own books containing fine examples of work by Schulz and Herriman, Gorey and Ketcham,et al but to see these originals so much larger than their reproduced size with their underdrawing apparent, or the marks of an ink nib on illustration board or paper...I said it before but it bears repeating: it's an education in itself. And a rare privilege to get the opportunity--for only six dollars, if you can get to San Francisco.

Even if you can't make the Blair show before it closes on March 18th you should make sure to pay a visit to 655 Mission Street anyway.

Your Friend the Rat-the Little Golden Book version

If you haven't been by Jim Capobiano's blog lately you might not yet know that there's a new Little Golden Book out that's going to be a must-have. It's a companion piece to his wonderful short film "Your Friend The Rat" that debuted on the "Ratatouille" DVD release.

I snagged the above image from the Amazon website, which is where I suspect Jim got the cover shot he posts on his blog; he says the color is off and he'll soon post a more accurate one(it's really got to annoy when one works so hard on these things to see wrong color advertising it anywhere). For more information about it, hie yourselves over to Jim's blog pronto.
He's been busy putting up some very interesting posts with behind the scenes tidbits about the making of his film-this is really gold.
photo of Scott Morse by Jim Capobianco, courtesy of his blog

I love seeing the process and reading about what people go through at work. Jim had a special added investment, something usually extracurricular to a director/story person's normal plethora of jobs: he cowrote the song that ends the short film. That little song, sung in character by "Remy" and "Emile" was so charming...also pretty darned clever--and the visual accompaniment a tasty treat.

I'm sure the short needs no touting from me to entice anyone to watch it, but honestly, along with the feature itself(a film that I think plays better with repeated viewings-what a pleasure that is to say), it was such a great gift to put it on the DVD. Superior work by everyone, and lots to be inspired by.

Happy Holidays!

It's been 18 months since these were first posted, and as it's the right time of year and I haven't a new post ready, I repost them here for your enjoyment.




Have a lovely holiday, everyone.

all the rare material here appears--as before--through the generous courtesy of James Walker

...and here's one more for the road, from my house:

Merry, merry!

Disney's 1956 Holiday Card

Another old favorite, originally posted when I started this blog two years ago: the Disney Studio's 1956 Christmas card.
It looks much better in person.

Click on the images to enlarge them.

Christmas 'round the corner

A million things to do, and with work steaming along right up to the brink of the break, posting has become an intangible dream at the Blackwing factory. Just for kicks I'll post a few of the entries of Christmas past this weekend; fun graphics and perhaps entirely new to more recent visitors.

Hope everyone's doing their duty in the malls and byways of the planet, taking time to breathe--and enjoying the filmic qualities of this most noisy/twinkling time of year. My own (early 20th-century street designed)street has transformed into Bedford Falls lately--the happy version.

Nico Noël

Like most of my ilk, every year I save those holiday cards that are either sentimentally precious or very appealing-or both.
The thing is, after I put them away I rarely know exactly where I've put them. Here's an example from lo, these many years past(1994 actually); it just fell out of a pile of saved paper.
The artist is the prodigious and wonderful Nico Martlet. He handmade and painted all his cards that year-lucky me!

Daniela Strijleva...

...is my new hero.

She's just started a sketchblog and it's a visual feast--already full of beautifully observed work.
As if her own drawing wasn't enough, she's also gone to the trouble of posting quite a few illustrations from Ronald Searle's must-have Paris Sketchbook, a task I'd intended to do but not yet got around to.

Pay her a visit:
Daniela Strijleva

Show and Tell-Mickey Mouse Ephemera

click to view at a decent size

I've been tidying my drawing area trying to cull the unnecessary stuff, and just for fun I thought I'd share this keen pencil box, a birthday gift from my friend Elinor. I've had it on my desk for ages, propped up where I can look at it--the colors and general fun of the thing are a nice bit of eyecandy for the workspace.

What if? Kimball and Jones...

above image from the Cartoon Modern blog


Michael Barrier has a new post up today with some very interesting ruminations on what might have been regarding Disney's "Sleeping Beauty". Well worth your time.