Crossfade quickly out of the darkness to Queen Grimhilda (her name is never mentioned in the film) seated upon her magnificent throne with peacock feathers splayed behind it. She is addressing someone in front of her with instructions to take “her” deep into the forest to “some secluded glade where she can pick wildflowers”. The someone to whom she is speaking is revealed to be Humbert a huntsman (whose name is likewise never spoken), a burly bearded paunchy fellow clutching a sheathed knife at his side. “And there you will kill her!” commands the Queen. The huntsman protests, but the Queen reminds him of the “penalty” should he fail. She gets no more specific than that, but her ominous threat causes the man to acquiesce subserviently. For assurance of his obedience however, the Queen adds the horrifying proviso that upon his return he must deliver to her Snow White’s heart in a box. To emphasize the horror of this demand she displays this special container, shoving it forward right into the camera which zooms in upon it: its clasp is a graphic indication of her intent – a dagger piercing a heart. The animation of the Queen during this brief scene is especially intense: her lime-green piercing eyes stare directly into the camera as she discloses her vicious intentions.
The image of the horrible box crossfades into a scene of sunny sylvan sumptuousness near the bank of a rocky stream, the Huntsman standing menacingly a little distance beyond amidst a grove of river birches, his horse grazing beside him. On a foreground breezy hillock Snow White picks wildflowers and casually sings a partial reprise of “One Song”.
Numerous story sessions were convened to determine the most convincing way to stage this attempted murder.
No one ever had done anything like this before, and it was imperative that the audience accepted it the way it was intended. If they laughed at the Huntsman, it would mean that the audience had not been drawn into the situation and could not take this type of handling seriously in a cartoon. They must believe that this animated figure existed and really was going to kill the girl.[1]
A stenographer always recorded these story meetings. Every detail of the brief sequence was mulled over and over. What should Snow White be doing? Continuing to pick flowers? No, comforting a lost baby bird. How should the huntsman approach her? A close-up of his boots stealing through the grass? No, rather the close-up approach of his fearsome face. When should the dagger be revealed? How to emphasize it? A reflected glint of sunlight as he unsheathes the blade. How to show his torment and change of heart? How much should he tell the princess? A plethora of ideas were pared away down to the barest necessities for getting the drama across.
As a result, the audiences were swept along, caught in a web of their own imagination and convinced of the intensity that never was actually shown. The less they were told, the more they filled in with their own thoughts; and the less that was said, the more they seemed to understand. As little as was shown on the Huntsman, he probably ended up with more substance as a character than ever had been planned.[2]
Humbert the Huntsman. (Copyright The Walt Disney Company)
The end result is chillingly suspenseful! Everything proceeds as noted above, the Huntsman with his glinting dagger drawn approaching behind Snow White as she releases the lost baby bird to its nearby parents. The assassin’s determinedly grim visage, its eyes the same lime green as the Queen’s, takes over the full screen in close-up. His shadow creeps over the young girl still kneeling with her back to him. She senses something wrong and turns just in time to see him raise the blade to strike. She screams, falls back against a large rock, covers her face with both arms. Another close-up shows the knife clutched in the air, ready to plunge, but the gloved hand grasping it begins to tremble, then releases the weapon. The Huntsman falters, “I can’t do it!”, falls to his knees before the Princess, seizes the hem of her dress, buries his face in it and beseeches her forgiveness. Snow White expresses incomprehension, to which the Huntsman explains that the Queen is “mad with jealousy” and the Princess must run away, hide and never come back. Terror-stricken she turns and sprints off into the forest, her failed assassin continuing to urge her flight onward as she dashes further and further into the darkening tangled undergrowth.
This sequence has become a classic of communication with the audience. Everyone was drawn into the picture in a way that made the events that followed have a greater impact. It was melodramatic without becoming saccharine. Perhaps the sincerity of all who worked on it contributed the most to making it such a successful part of an outstanding film.[3]
[1] Johnston, Ollie, and Thomas, Frank: Disney Animation The Illusion of Life, Abbeville Press, Publishers, New York, 1981, p. 383.
[2] Johnston, Ollie, and Thomas, Frank: op. cit., p. 386.
[3] Johnston, Ollie, and Thomas, Frank: op. cit., loc. sit.
"I do not make films primarily for children. I make them for the child in all of us, whether we be six or sixty. Call the child innocence. The worst of us is not without innocence, although buried deeply it might be. In my work I try to reach and speak to that innocence, showing it the fun and joy of living; showing it that laughter is healthy; showing it that the human species, although happily ridiculous at times, is still reaching for the stars."
