Dumbo, for example, is an icon of the American dream; his story takes America's capitalist sociopolitical system for granted. In a socialist context, realizing one's dream to become a star would not be a positive story; like the horse in George Orwell's Animal Farm, a socialist hero would sacrifice his or her life for the community without wanting glamour or financial benefit in return. Dumbo's success is measured by a Hollywood contract and a cheering crowd.
The irony is that capitalism is ashamed of its own materialist measures, so its stories always add an extra layer to cover the economic drive. Robin Wood calls this surplus “the Rosebud syndrome” (2004, p. 719), a reference to Orson Welles's famous movie Citizen Kane. After a lifelong pursuit of power and wealth, Kane, on his deathbed, longs for Rosebud, his childhood sled. Disney's Rosebud may be best represented by the kite of the unemployed father at the end of Mary Poppins: it symbolizes the sentiment of family love-one can be poor and happy at the same time.
In a traditional patriarchal American family, the father is the protector and breadwinner, and the mother is the nurturer and caregiver. Consequently, classic Disney male heroes fight for survival and success, while the female protagonist is preoccupied with love and marriage. If she has a job, it is usually babysitting or teaching. This division explains the gender distinction between Dumbo's flight and Cinderella's fantasy. Beneath Cinderella is the domestication of women-girls being socialized by their stories to wait in their tower, like Rapunzel for Prince Charming.
That which is rarely represented or altogether hidden can also be ideological. Whitemale centered, Disney classics rarely feature other races and cultures. If they are represented, they are often stereotyped: the blacks sit by the railway to sing while foreign or aboriginal cultures are locked in their past, romanticized or demonized. For example, the crows in Dumbo are one notable representation of African Americans. Seemingly uneducated and unemployed, they nonetheless are happy (Rosebud syndrome). Similarly, homosexual relations are taboo. Critics like Eleanor Byrne and Martin McQuillan argue that the “brotherhood” of the Merrie Men in The Story of Robin Hood and the “friendship” of the Seven Dwarfs project “homosocial desire” (1999, p. 137), but such interpretation may be overdriven by the political scope of the critics.
Nevertheless, the difficulty in connecting Disney classics to homosexual themes proves that Disney has a schema of compulsory heterosexuality. Even today, when the issue of gay and lesbian relationships has become an open social discourse, Disney's representation of non-heterosexual orientation remains in the dark, with only an occasional portrait of a womanly man (such as Hannah Montana's stylist) or a comic moment of gender transgression (such as the cross-dressing scene in Mulan).
