Le Quotidien de Paris was a French daily newspaper created on April 4, 1974, by Philippe Tesson, a former editor-in-chief of the newspaper Combat. It was published until November 14, 1996.
Gérard Spiteri, a sociologist and journalist, wrote two articles about the 50th anniversary of the world premiere of the film Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. On this occasion, the film was re-released worldwide, with the notable exception of France. In France, there was only one special screening at the Le Grand Rex theater in Paris.
The first article focuses on the film’s genesis and its unique status in the history of cinema. It also recalls, with a touch of snobbery, the influence the movie had on the masses—especially children—but also on artists, who are implicitly seen as more intellectually noble, such as Miles Davis. Ken Anderson is mentioned in connection with the famous evening when Walt Disney presented his project to his team. Animator Shamus Culhane recounts the provocative sketches that circulated within the studio at the time, serving as a creative outlet for the staff.
The second article, whose title references the parody Elle voit des nains partout! (She Sees Dwarfs Everywhere!), released in France five years earlier, delves more specifically into the fairy tale and its psychological interpretations, a field explored by author Bruno Bettelheim in his book.
The 50 years of Snow White. Some Day her Age Will Come
by Gérard Spiteri (July 17, 1987)
Inspired by a Brothers Grimm tale, Walt Disney’s animated film was a triumph from the moment of its release. Even before its worldwide re-release, it had already earned $330 million for the company—a record.
The first animated feature-length film in color in cinematic history is celebrating its 50th anniversary. This golden jubilee commemorates the medieval fable that inspired the Brothers Grimm, sparking a dual empire—first imaginary, then commercial: for children, for whom Snow White has been a bestseller since its 1812 publication; and for Walt Disney, who achieved international fame with this adaptation. Fifty years later, the film, now a timeless classic, continues to enchant both young and old. Its “saccharine” nature does not overshadow the magnificence of its production and the innovation it represented at a time when animated cinema was excluded from major productions.
This global success has never waned. Numerous adaptations of songs such as Whistle While You Work and Someday My Prince Will Come exist, the latter having been masterfully orchestrated by Miles Davis.
Today, Snow White is re-released simultaneously in sixty countries, including the Soviet Union and China. No other film has achieved such longevity and constant rediscovery.
Known as Schneewittchen und die sieben Zwerge in German, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in English, and Blanca Nieve y los siete enanos in Spanish, the film—dubbed into twenty languages—returns to theaters in 4,000 locations.
A Wild Project
Another unique aspect of the film is its treatment as a treasure by Disney Studios. Since its creation on December 21, 1937, in Los Angeles, Snow White has only had eight theatrical re-releases and has never been aired on television or sold on videocassettes. Over fifty years, the film has earned Disney $330 million.
To this, one must add revenue from theme park rights, where the princess and her little men—ancestors of the Smurfs—are integral to the imaginary worlds created. Yet, in the early 1930s, Walt Disney was no novice in the “cartoon” genre. The creator of Donald Duck, Pluto, and, most notably, Mickey Mouse—a character that infiltrated the hearts of audiences worldwide—Disney continually worked to expand Hollywood’s understanding of the market’s potential.
A savvy businessman, Disney refused to let his ambitions be limited. He envisioned a feature-length animated film, initially met with doubt and skepticism. At the time, special effects systems did not exist, requiring every frame to be hand-drawn. The project also demanded a grand story, sweeping adventures, and dreamlike scenery.
Ken Anderson, one of the animators on the team, recalls a night in 1934 when Disney, then 33, called his collaborators together to announce the news through a performance: “For four hours, Walt narrated the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. But he didn’t just tell the story—he played every character. When he finished, he told us it would be our next film. We were all stunned because we knew how hard it already was to make a short animated film.”
Tears, Yes. Sex, No.
In Hollywood, this announcement was dismissed as Disney’s folly. How could a fairy tale hold the attention of an adult audience for 83 minutes? The project was deemed both insane and commercially unviable, threatening the empire Disney had painstakingly built for children—a safe market. But Disney embraced the challenge, believing so strongly in its success that he risked his entire fortune.
As expected, the estimated $250,000 budget was quickly surpassed. The film, completed in three years, cost $1.5 million—a staggering amount during the Great Depression. Fueled by titanic enthusiasm, Disney was forced to mortgage his studio. Near the end of production, he asked the 750 people involved in the project to work almost around the clock, including Sundays, without pay.
One million drawings were created for this adaptation, of which only 250,000 were used in the film. Disney oversaw every detail, demanding absolute perfection in line with his vision of the fairy tale.
One collaborator, Shamus Culhane, recalls in his memoirs a sort of rebellion among the staff, expressed through an avalanche of pornographic sketches—a precursor to later parodies like Snow Butt and the Seven Hands. This did not sit well with Disney, who insisted on maintaining a family-friendly tone, motivated more by commercial reasons than moral ones. The Hollywood premiere of Snow White was a triumph. Clark Gable and Carole Lombard left the screening in tears. The film quickly earned $8.5 million—a record only surpassed by Gone with the Wind. Filmmakers like Sergei Eisenstein and Charlie Chaplin praised this first animated feature-length film. Though it has become fashionable to criticize the film, one might ask: have we done much better in the fifty years since?
When She Sees More Than Just Dwarfs Everywhere
by Gérard Spiteri (July 17, 1987)
The Brothers Grimm’s tale begins:
“Once upon a time, in the middle of winter, when snowflakes were falling from the sky like feathers, a queen sat by a window with a black ebony frame, sewing. While she sewed and gazed out at the beautiful snow, she pricked her finger with a needle, and three drops of blood fell onto the snow. The red on the white was so beautiful that she thought: ‘If only I could have a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black-haired as the ebony frame of this window!’ Soon after, she gave birth to a daughter who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black-haired as ebony. Because of this, she was named Snow White. But the queen died during childbirth. A year later, the king took another wife, who was very beautiful…”
We all know what happens next: Snow White, poisoned by her stepmother, falls into a death-like sleep. The dwarfs place her in a glass coffin, awaiting the arrival of Prince Charming to awaken her and lead her from childhood to womanhood.
Walt Disney embellished the story, adding Hollywood-style wonder and humor. Escaping her stepmother’s abuse, Snow White charms birds, befriends normally timid forest animals, and even conjures music from the trees. This idyllic, welcoming nature serves as a backdrop for her refuge with the seven dwarfs, who, in the film, are endowed with distinct personalities, like Grumpy and Dopey—childlike figures themselves.
For psychoanalyst Bruno Bettelheim, a specialist in children’s dreams, this tale is a treasure trove. In his Psychoanalysis of Fairy Tales (Robert Laffont, 1976; reissued in 1986), he offers interpretations related to sexuality and eternal myths:
- The bleeding symbolizes menstruation and later the breaking of the hymen, marking the beginning of life as it leads to childbirth. “The young listener learns, without unnecessary explanations, that without bleeding, no child—including themselves—could be born.”
- The mirror in which the queen gazes recalls the ancient myth of Narcissus, who was consumed by his self-love. Snow White’s own narcissism almost leads to her downfall twice, as she succumbs to the queen’s temptations. Ultimately, the queen dies because of her own narcissism.
- The seven dwarfs, “miniature men,” evoke a pre-Oedipal existence. Snow White, after satisfying her hunger, tries each of their seven beds, only finding one that fits her—a symbolic progression.
- The poisoned apple connects to Aphrodite, goddess of love, and, of course, Eve’s original sin.
In fact, the queen cuts the apple in two, eating the white half herself and leaving the poisoned red half for Snow White. This duality reflects the heroine’s nature: pure as snow yet passionate as blood—both asexual and erotic. These analyses highlight the depth of this tale. From innocence to perversity, only the space of a single symbol lies between.
