Make Mine Music

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Make Mine Music is a 1946 American animated anthology film produced by Walt Disney and released to theatres on April 20, 1946.

Dialogue[edit]

Umpire: You're OUT!

Umpire: You're SAFE!

Crowd: [chanting] We want Casey! WE WANT CASEY! WE WANT CASEY!

Casey: That ain't my style!

Narrator (Jerry Colonna): But there is no joy in Mudville; Mighty Casey has struck out!
[Casey sobs, then throws a tantrum blowing his swings trying to hit the baseball]
Chorus & Narrator: [sung] Casey the pride of them all...!!!
Narrator: What do you know? The game is over.

Narrator (Sterling Holloway): Now, this is the story of... uh.... "Peter and the Wolf". As you know, in the musical score of "Peter and the Wolf", each character is represented by a coresponding instrument in the orchestra: Peter by the String Quartet, and his trusty popgun by a "pop".
[Music from the string quartet plays Peter's Theme]
Narrator: The bird who's name is "Sasha" by a flute. Way... up high.
[Flute plays Sasha's theme]
Narrator: Sonia, the Duck by an Oboe, like this.
[Oboe plays Sonia's theme]
Narrator: And here is Ivan, the cat. He's represented by a Clarinet. In a very low- [clears throat] (low voice) in a very low... register.
[Clarinet plays Ivan's theme]
Narrator: Grandpapa is an old Bassoon.
[Bassoon play's Peter's Grandfather's theme]
Narrator: And when the hunters shoot their guns, that's the kettle drums.
[Timpani plays the Hunter's rifles' theme]
Narrator: (low voice and evil tone) And there is also... a... wolf.
[French horns play the Wolf's theme]

Narrator: Ahem, little does that wolf know what's in store for him, this day. For our hero: Little Peter, armed to the teeth, is setting forth to capture him. (suddenly, he was grabbed by somebody) Uh-oh, there seems to have been a change of plans; For Peter's Grandpapa, he thinks that little boys like Peter, should NOT go out to hunt the wolf.
[During the narration Peter's grandfather dropped his grandson in a cornor, and takes away his hat and popgun]
Narrator: For a great hunter like peter who's almost six years old, to be carried back into the cabin, it's very embaressing.
[Peter, sitting in the cornor, kicks a toy. A few seconds soon, he daydreams]
Narrator: But, he dreams of hunting anyway.
[After daydreaming, Peter saw his grandfather, asleep in front of the fireplace]
Narrator: Soon, Peter's Grandpapa fell fast asleep. Peter escaped out of the cabin, across the snow, and into the dark forest, his popgun maximally, at the ready.
(Peter trials throught the snow, over a bridge, and into the woods.)
Narrator: Oh my, Peter's happy.

Narrator: And soon, he met Sasha; the little bird we told you about. Excited and a little chap, wasn't he? He's forgetful, too.
Sasha: Hello, Petey! What goes?! Where ya goin', huh?! Can I go, Petey? Can I, huh?! Oh boy a gun! Loaded, too! You going huntin'?
Peter: Oh, yeah. That's for me.
Sasha: Everything's okay, Petey. Come on, let's go!

Narrator: The wolf?!
[Peter tries to shoot, and Sasha hides in Peter's hat, but they both realize...]
Narrator: No! It isn't the wolf, at all. It's only Sonia the Duck.
Peter: Hello, Sonia.
Sonia: Hello, Petey.
Narrator: You see, Sonia imagines herself a great wolf hunter, and she wants to join the party, too. Imagination is a wonderful thing, but sometimes it can run away from you.
[Sonia imagines herself dealing with the wolf, until it frightened her]
Narrator: You see, Sonia's imagination was so good, she was frightened by the wolf that wasn't there!
Sasha: [kicks Sonia's butt] You coward!

Narrator: Now who's this? It can't be- Oh-ho-ho, no! It's Ivan the cat! Hello, Ivan. Ivan's a peacful, fun-loving sort. Maybe a little shy on brains. You know the type.

Peter: Stop it, stop it, stop it, S-STOP IT! (...) Oh, how can they ever get any place if they're going to fight among themselves?
Sasha: Ivan, you ought to be ashamed!
Peter: You big bully!
Sonia: You cat in the grass!
Peter: Come on, Sasha.
Ivan: I am sorry, he won't do it again!

Narrator: Sonia? Sonia! Behind you! Look out! W, O, L, F! Oh, that wolf is everywhere!
[Peter shrieks as the wolf snarled at him]
Narrator: WHOA! And that wolf is much feirce than I ever thought! Peter, do something!
[Peter shoots the wolf on the nose]
Narrator: No, no Peter, not that.
[Ivan runs away]
Narrator: Peter, don't just stand that way!
[The wolf leans Peter downward]
Narrator: And don't stand that way either.
[Sasha, and Peter flees, but Sonia got distracted by the Wolf]
Narrator: Sonia, what're you doing here?! This no time to relax!

Sasha: You, you, you... BEAST! Take this, and this, and this! How do ya like this, eh? And this, eh?! How about this, eh? Not so good, eh?!?!

Narrator: Just when things were looking blackest... What's this we hear? What's this we see? Just a minute; I'll look. Why, it's the hunters! Misha, Yasha, and Vladimir. That's Vladimir in the middle.
[Sasha appraches to the hunters]
Narrator: And here comes little Sasha, flying as hoped, Peter's very life depended on it, which it does! Tell them Sasha, tell the hunters!
Sasha: W, O, L, F! Wolf!
Misha, Yasha, and Vladimir: WOLF?! TO THE RESCUE!!!
[The hunter rush to the rescue until they saw the remains of Peter's popgun and hat]
Narrator: Peter? Where are you?
[The hunters sobs]
Peter (off-screen): [whistle calls]
Narrator: Oh, Peter, there you are! You're safe! AND you've captured the wolf!

Narrator: Oh, Peter, what a hero! You too, Ivan! What a triumph as we parade through the town! Can't you just hear all the villagers cheer? Glistening... "Horray, Horray" and "HOORAY!" Everybody's happy! Everybody, that is, except the wolf! Ho-ho, that old wolf!

Sasha: SONIA!!! Oh, you're not dead! You hid in the hallow tree! You're safe! Oh, Sonia, this is the most wonderful, wonderful day! The wolf is captured by Peter and Co.!
Narrator: Now, Peter can go hunting whatever he likes and they'll all live happily... forever and ever after! The end.

Narrator (Nelson Eddy): This story about a singing whale is one of the strangest ever told. Yet, every word of it, and every note of it is vouched for by one of the Whale's closest friends, a seagull. The Whale's name was Willie, and his big ambition was to appear at the met. Now, many big things have hit the met from time to time, why not a whale? Not just a whale of a singer, but a singing whale. Willie was three times as interesting as an ordinary singer, because he could sing in three different voices. Not just one at a time, but all at once. How did he do it? Well, there's not much of a secret about it, anybody with three separate voices can do it. It's as easy as saying Jack Robinson [Repeats "Jack Robinson" in three voices] See what I mean? Of course, you might not be able to start right off with grand operatic selections, but you can begin with a simple round. And it'll sound like this. [sings "Three Blind Mice" in a round with three voices] Now I've had quite a lot of experience with this sort of thing myself. By studying the Willie the Whale method, I too am able to sing with three voices at once. That's why I was chosen to tell you the story. I not only do all the singing, but I do all the talking, too. And every once in a while, you'll notice that I interrupt my own songs to take different parts and to describe the action.

Narrator: [sung] This is how it all began; Just a little back-page item about a voice that sang at sea. And then this fantastic news appeared on the front page. And then in screaming headlines...!
Newspaper Delivery Man: ENTRY! READ ALL ABOUT IT! PAPER!
[sung]
Man 1: A singing whale!
Man 2: What do ya know?!
Man 3: Imagine that!
Sewer Man: Humph, I don't believe it!
Taxi Driver: I don't believe it!
Police: For who ever heard of an operatic whale?!
Woman: I don't believe it!
Cat: I don't believe it!

[sung]
Narrator: Then doctors and experts. And men of anatomical biology, Debated and argued, And quoted ichthyology.
Blue and black-suited Men: Impossible! Preposterous! WE SAVEGLEY DENY IT!
Red and Black-suited Men: Magnificent! Miraculous! We certainly certify it!

Narrator: [sung] And even the great impresario, Of the grand opera, Raised an eyebrow, And tried and tried to figure it out.
Tetti-Tatti: Hmm, this a-whale... She's a-maybe swallowed the opera singer. That's it! This a-whale, she's a-swallowed the opera singer! I find-a the great singor Donatelli in the fish market. I discover the great Lilli Galli in the honkey tonkey. Then Why not I find the opera singer in the belly of a whale, Huh?! I DO IT! [sung] Oh get me a great big schooner, and get me a good-a harpooner. Photographers and reporters, from all the news-a papers, Publicity... publicity... publicity!

Narrator: Publicity? Yes, but to Whitey the seagull, it was opertunity. The big opertunity for his friend, Willie the whale. There was no time to lose. He must bring these two together.
[Whitey passes by Tetti-Tatti, seeing him]
Narrator: Well, there was Tetti-Tatti, now. And Tetti-Tatti was in for a wonderful surprise. Because Willie hadn't swallowed any opera singer, he could really sing! Listen.

Narrator: After all these years of casting his "Shortnin' Bread" upon the waters, now at last success lay just over the waves.
Whitey: Willie. Willie! Willie, look! That's you, Willie! He's looking for you! It's your big opportunity! [to the seals and pelicans] Willie's going to be a great star! Our Willie, going to sing Grand Opera!
Willie: [sung] Goodbye, my friends! I'm off to be discovered! Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la, I'm off to be discovered!
Narrator: At last, the long years of patient waiting... and the endless hours of faithful practice... were about to be rewarded. As Willie sped to his audition, he wondered what he should sing for his opening number. What would impress this impresario? How about a bit of "Figaro"? Yes, sure, "Figaro."

Narrator: Ah, but they haven't heard the half of it. Well, they haven't even heard a third of it! For Willie, he was no oridnary singing whale. Willie could sing in three seperate voices: Tenor, baritone, and bass! Why Willie was a singing miracle!

Tetti-Tatti: I've got-a him, I've GOT-A him! VICTORIA!!! Victoria! (gets beaten up by his sailors)

[last lines; Willie impaled by a harpoon by Prof. Tetti-Tatti]
Narrator: Now Willie will never sing at the met. But don't be too harsh on Tetti-Tatti; he just didn't understand. You see, Willie's singing was a miracle, and people aren't used to miracles. [to Willie's seagull friend who mourns the whale's loss] And you, faithful little friend, don't be too sad, because miracles never really die. And somewhere in wherever heaven is reserved for creatures of the deep, Willie is still singing, in a hundred voices, each more golden than before, and he'll go on singing, and admit the applause and the cheering... forever.

External links[edit]

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