Phila. Orchestra and 'Fantasia' still captivating

You can rebel against Disney's Fantasia all you want with thoughts like "Oh, that old thing. . . . It's so naive. . . . Please, not those hippos in tutus again . . . ."

But when it was there on the big screen Tuesday at the Mann Center in Disney's Fantasia: Live in Concert With the Philadelphia Orchestra, the total package had a way of completely circumventing one's adult defenses. It remains captivating.

Of course, the Philadelphia Orchestra enjoys a special ownership: Even though the Chicago Symphony Orchestra played on the soundtrack for the sequel, Fantasia 2000, Philadelphia had the 1940 original, with Leopold Stokowski towering over Mickey Mouse in their famous handshake. The Mann's 3,900-member family-oriented audience was primed for the event. Some even wore Mickey Mouse ears.

The show had selections from the 1940 version, including Bach's Toccata and Fugue, though without the film images (my personal favorite). All other selections utilized film, including Beethoven's Symphony No. 6 ("Pastoral") told with characters from Greek mythology; Ponchielli's Dance of the Hours (yes, with the dancing hippos); Clair de Lune (an animated version of a still life, cut from the 1940 film), and, of course, The Sorcerer's Apprentice (one case where the film's images seemed to be exactly what Dukas' tone poem had been waiting for).

A few selections from the sequel were included. The title character of Stravinsky's The Firebird became a dragonlike god rising from an erupting volcano in a tour de force of stretched perspective and angles not possible in conventional film.

One of Elgar's Pomp and Circumstance marches tells the story of Noah's ark with Donald Duck as Noah, injecting subplots that enhance the music's previously untapped storytelling potential and that effectively revisit one of the more endearing tropes of early Disney animated features - the affectional bond among animals.

The digital restoration of the 1940 portions is, in my opinion, a buzz-kill. It turns the muted colors of early Disney cartoons into hard, garish, candy-colored hues with all sorts of sharp edges that do no favors for the often homey images at hand. Maybe I've seen only faded prints in the past. But some films, like wine, improve with age and perhaps a bit of God-given deterioration.

The fact that the orchestra under Cristian Macelaru played well is not to be taken for granted. Pieces such as The Sorcerer's Apprentice don't turn up often in concert and can be tough stuff. One likes to think that on Tuesday night the fleeting presence of Leopold Stokowski somehow lent artistic moral support. He was glimpsed at the beginning and end of The Nutcracker, almost like a ghost, giving his trademark baton-less cues, proving that Old Stoky isn't really dead and never will be.