Here's your Childhood, 20-somethings.

Rating: 8/10 (1 January 2011)

Often considered the birth of the animation "renaissance," The Little Mermaid is less the initiator than the point at which the renaissance model was perfected (seeing as films like An American Tale and Who Framed Roger Rabbit already showed the public was hungry for classical animation). Seeing as this was the first commercial and aesthetic success for Disney in years, it makes sense that Disney would take this movie's tropes and recycle them (for reasons other than the themes they explored). With its logically arranged songs and archetypes, it became something like the purest example of Disney's approach.
Beyond this, though, it's quite a solid and entertaining piece of animation. By keeping the narrative simple and digestible, and letting the animators finally have some leeway where the characters were concerned, the studio took a huge risk that paid off. It's the most lavishly and cleanly animated Disney picture since the sixties, and finally marked a return to the animator driven environment of the golden age of Disney. That period's experimentation was dead and buried, unfortunately, and The Little Mermaid is too safe and inoffensive to be another Pinocchio, but by the standards of American studio animation it remains quite satisfying.
As a Hans Christian Anderson adaptation, it's been well documented that this adaptation screws with the source material, but for all the sunshiny Barbie Doll-ness of Ariel and the dancing sea creatures there is an appealing naive sense of yearning to her character. She sees something she wants that reminds her of the world she ultimately yearns for, and she does anything to attain it. Hungry sharks or her very identity be damned. As cliché as the "I want" song has become, this particular rendition has a surprisingly haunting quality to it that's more melancholy than cheerful. It's easy to be a snark and point at the stupid things she does for a guy she doesn't know, but considering he simply exemplifies her desires it makes perfect sense that she would take such a route as to give up her voice and identity.
This is why I hate the ending. I don't demand that Disney use the same ending as the source material, but I would expect some sort of sacrifice to be made to at least preserve some literary integrity. By giving Ariel back everything she desired, it seems to deny that there are any consequences to her behavior.
Snobby nitpicking over a damn children's movie aside, The Little Mermaid is mostly very charming and fun to watch. Alan Menken's score and songs are iconic, catchy, and always have a character point to them (most of Menken's imitators seem to leave out the fact that songs have to actually communicate things relevant to the story). Not all of the side characters endear (I struggle to remember all of them) but a few are good fun, if recycled to the point of nausea since then.
It's clear that the animation here is a huge step up from the Saturday Morning quality of their last few films (perhaps owing partly to the influence of Richard Williams on the team during Who Framed Roger Rabbit). Their inexperience shows, but it's such a major advancement that certain nitpicks aren't a huge deal. Mark Henn's Ariel is a bit amorphous, but Glen Kean's has a strong sense of weight and emotion. Andreas Deja tends to show off his ability to draw a nose in perspective a bit too much on King Trident, but this is testament to his skill in sculpting his masses to project a strong sense of presence. Once more, however, the spotlight is stolen by the villain, as Ruben Aquino handles Ursula's many writhing slimy tentacles and sheer evil glee with the adeptness of a Milt Kahl or a Bill Tytla. Disney's animators improved in strides over the next few films, but for once it's a joy to see a Disney product that prides character animation over cost cutting.
I have issues with the fact that The Little Mermaid set a precedent that the entire industry would adhere blindly to out of fear. I can't fault this on the original movie however, and I enjoy it for what it is. Unlike, say, Princess and the Frog or (God forbid) Quest for Camelot it's not insulting, and it's completely satisfying. It's not my favorite Disney movie by any means, but if I ever have daughters I won't mind picking this up for them to experience themselves (along with superior female coming of age stories like Kiki's Delivery Service). For once, this mermaid's earned herself a soul.
Also, the fact that Ariel's in a clamshell bra and we see her pantsless is testament to the fact that children's animators are all perverts. Pubescent children all over the world thank them for it.