Pop quiz, hotshot. What was the first movie made entirely with a digital animation process? Toy Story? Nope. What was the first animated Disney theatrical sequel? Trick question, it’s not The Lion King II: Simba’s Pride. The answer to both is the same: the high-flying, largely-forgotten, and criminally underrated 1990 gem, The Rescuers Down Under.
This is the story of a movie that was a technological revolution, an artistic gamble, and a box office face-plant of epic proportions. So grab your aviator goggles and a comically oversized backpack, because we’re diving into the chaotic production of the best Disney movie you probably don’t remember.
Part 1: "G'Day, Mate! Let's make a Sequel!"
The year is 1986. The world is obsessed with two things: big hair and Australia. Bon Jovi was "Livin' on a Prayer", Whitney Houston was asking "How Will I Know", and The Bangles were teaching everyone to "Walk Like An Egyptian". Paul Hogan just swaggered onto screens in Crocodile Dundee, and suddenly everyone was an expert on shrimp on the barbie. Over at Disney, fresh-faced executives Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg were looking to shake things up. Especially after the...not so stellar outing with the Black Cauldron. Around this time, Eisner and Katzenberg had moved the animation studio out of its large massive studio on Hyperion Avenue...to a small, dinky studio they bought in Burbank, California (a major downgrade to be sure).
Seeing the global Aussie-mania, they had a lightbulb moment: "Hey, remember those two mice from that movie in the 70s? Let's send 'em to Australia!"
And so, the idea for Disney's first-ever animated theatrical sequel was born. A team of directors and artists were promptly given sunscreen, bug repellant, paper and pencils and a ticket on the next flight out to the Australian Outback on a "research trip," which sounds a lot like the best vacation ever. They returned not with tans (or any nasty bug bites...because the bugs in Australia are HUGE), but with sketchbooks full of vertigo-inducing cliffs, vast deserts, and the kind of rugged landscapes that made their previous work look like the Joy of Painting (RIP to Bob Ross). They were determined to capture this epic scale on screen. But how?
Part 2: "Songs? We Don't Need No Stinkin' Songs!"
Directors Hendel Butoy and Mike Gabriel made a decision that was, for a Disney animated feature, pure sacrilege. They looked at the classic Disney formula and chucked it right into a crocodile-infested river. Singing animal sidekicks? Gone! Large "I Want" numbers? Nope! Triumphant villain songs? Get outta here!
Their vision wasn't a musical, but rather Indiana Jones with mice. They wanted sweeping camera moves, thrilling chase sequences, and a sense of high-stakes adventure. Instead of catchy Alan Menken tunes, they got composer Bruce Broughton to write a booming, orchestral score that sounds more like Star Wars than Snow White. It was a massive gamble. Would audiences accept a Disney movie where the eagle doesn't burst into a song about self-actualization? (Spoiler: they were confused.)
Part 3: The Secret Weapon Named CAPS (Brought to You by a Little Company Called Pixar)
Here’s where things get really nerdy and really, really important. To create the massive, dynamic shots they dreamed of, traditional animation techniques wouldn't work. Much like in the past with the Xerox process, they needed to innovate. Enter the Computer Animation Production System, or CAPS.
This revolutionary digital system was a collaboration between Disney and a small, plucky computer graphics company you’ve probably never heard of… Pixar. Yes, that Pixar. The very same Pixar that would give us bangers like Toy Story, The Incredibles, and Finding Nemo.
Before CAPS, every animation cel had to be hand-painted and then physically photographed, layer by layer. It was a long, painstaking process susceptible to dust, scratches, and human error. LOTS of human error. CAPS changed everything. For the first time, animators could simply scan their hand-drawn art into a computer, color it with a digital paintbrush, and then composite dozens of layers together with the ease and precision of a close shave of a Gillette razor (they call it "The Best A Man Can Get" for a reason).
What did this mean for the movie?
The Opening Sequence: That amazing, high-speed zoom-in from space, through the clouds, and down into a field of flowers? Couldn't be done with a real camera. That was pure CAPS magic.
McLeach’s Vehicle: The villain's monstrous half-track vehicle was computer-generated, allowing it to rumble and tear through the landscape in ways a camera and traditional hand-drawn animation can't replicate.
The Flight of Marahute: This is the showstopper. Glen Keane, the animation god behind characters like Ariel and the Beast, supervised the animation of the giant golden eagle. Thanks to CAPS, he could make Marahute swoop, dive, and bank through canyons with a fluidity that still takes your breath away. It’s arguably one of the most stunning sequences in animation history, and it was the system’s grand debut.
"The Rescuers Down Under" was the first 100% digital feature film ever made. It was a technological guinea pig, a grand trial that made future classics like Beauty and the Beast and The Lion King possible.
Part 4: So, If It Was So Innovative and Amazing, Why Did It Bomb Harder Than a Lead Balloon?
With groundbreaking tech, a stellar voice cast (welcome back Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor, and hello to the terrifying George C. Scott as McLeach and the hilarious John Candy as Wilbur the Albatross), and stunning visuals, this movie should have been a smash hit. It had to be, right? RIGHT?!?
Sadly...it wasn’t. It got absolutely demolished at the box office.
The reason can be summed up in two words: KEVIN MCCALLISTER.
"The Rescuers Down Under" was released on the exact same weekend in November 1990 as a little family comedy called Home Alone. It was like releasing a beautifully crafted rowboat in the middle of a naval battle. Audiences flocked to see a kid inflict cartoonish violence on Joe Pesci, and Disney's high-art adventure was left in the dust. The marketing push was abysmal and practically non-existant, and after a dismal opening weekend, ending up in 4th place, Katzenberg reportedly pulled most of the advertising budget. The movie limped out of theaters, a commercial failure.
Part 5: The Cult of the Eagle
For years, "The Rescuers Down Under" was the forgotten stepchild of the Disney Renaissance. It was the second film in the Renaissance but its release at an extremely inopportune time, paired with the non-existant marketing, killed it before it had a chance to shine. Thankfully, time has been kind. Animation fans and 90s kids who caught it on VHS or even showings on ABC, Toon Disney, or Disney Channel began to realize what a special film it was. It’s an outlier—an action-packed thrill ride that didn't need musical numbers or funny sidekicks. A film that stands completely on its own. The Rescuers Down Under stands a testament to a studio willing to take a risk, pushing the boundaries of what animation could be, even if it got shot in the forehead with a BB Gun by Kevin McCallister.
So next time you’re scrolling through Disney+, skip the live-action remakes that are a dime a dozen these days and give this forgotten masterpiece a watch. Appreciate the breathtaking flight of Marahute and know that you’re not just watching a movie—you’re watching the birth of modern animation. All thanks to two brave mice, a team of ambitious artists, and a very helpful computer.
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