Disney and Marvel's marriage – announced this week – of two large money-making machines seems eerily convenient, writes DONALD CLARKE
SINCE THE Pirates of the Caribbeancycle wound to a halt and the Narnia films made their way to another studio, Walt Disney Pictures has been looking a bit short of live-action franchises. Fear not. On Monday it was announced that the Mouse House had dug some change – about $4 billion (€2.8 billion) or so – from the back of the sofa and bought itself the cornucopia of characters that goes by the name of Marvel Entertainment. Henceforth, Spider-Man, Hulkand The X-Menwill sleep in the same dormitory as Mickey Mouse, Goofy, Buzz Lightyear and that woman Sandra Bullock played in The Proposal.
“We believe that adding Marvel to Disney’s unique portfolio of brands provides significant opportunities for long-term growth and value creation,” Robert Iger, Disney president and chief executive, told the world. “Blah, blah, corporate-this. Blah, blah, conglomerate that,” he continued. (What on earth is “value creation”?)
Those that give a hoot will want to hear that Marvel shareholders are to get somewhere in the region of $30 per share plus .745 of a Disney share for every one they hold in the comic company. Both boards have agreed the deal, but, not surprisingly, the arrangement still has to be cleared by the US competition authorities.
The financial stuff is not insignificant. Over the past few years, adaptations of such Marvel comics as Iron Man and Spider-Manhave colonised the summer box-office and it hardly needs to be said that Walt Disney is one of the immovable institutions of the film industry.
Every time Disney looks on the point of decline it manages some class of spectacular re-invention. Having invented a new genre 70 years ago with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the corporation's animation wing stumbled in the 1980s with such unattractive features as The Fox and the Houndand (gulp) The Great Mouse Detective. Then, in the early 1990s, under the stewardship of Jeffrey Katzenberg, it delivered a new batch of beautifully crafted classics such as Beauty and the Beastand The Lion King. In 1995, the firm's association with Pixar Studios created Toy Storyand paved the way for the current computer-animation gold rush.
At about the same time, Marvel comics, stalled by a decline in its core business, was filing for bankruptcy.
The coalition between the two companies seems eerily convenient. Having regained solvency thanks to its lucrative film wing, Marvel now has an abundance of outlets – all those noisy Disney TV channels – through which to market its menagerie of superheroes. Meanwhile, Walt’s empire no longer has to worry about a dearth of live-action movie series. Last year, Iron Man took in half a billion dollars at the box-office and the sequel will be filling cinemas next summer. Suddenly, $4 billion begins to look like a bargain.
Yet a great many comic fans view the deal with a degree of suspicion. Sure, Marvel has long been in the business of Hulklunchboxes, X-Menduvet covers and Thor pyjamas, but there has always been a hint (just a hint, mind) of something dangerous about the company's products. Millions of adults remember the point in their adolescence when they turned off the Mickey Mouse Club to focus on the more violent adventures of Spider-Man. Heck, Peter Parker, that superhero's alter ego, had cool girlfriends in hot pants and so forth. The X-Menappeared to be dealing with America's post civil rights' trauma. What is the company doing getting in bed with Uncle Walt?
The truth is that Marvel, though still a minnow in comparison to its new whale of a father, had long ago become too vast and clumsy to occupy a cosy corner of the counterculture. Stan Lee, the company’s irrepressible former president, still pops up to spout post-hippy slogans at comic conventions, but the entity he helped create is now about as radical as the Coca-Cola Corporation.
Some sort of dream has died. Never mind. At least we might now get to meet Thor when we visit Disney World.
