It came as a surprise to me that "The Littlest Outlaw" is still circulating in home video, while "Song of the South" has been denied a proper home video release in the United States, for matters related to "political correctness", for while one is accused of racism and left in the vaults, the other is free of critique in spite of its scenes showing cruelty to animals. Not that I am for the banning of these films, Nazi movies or comedies with white actors playing African- Americans with black pancake, because I understand that all these products have to be seen as signs of different times or modes of thought in mankind's existence on Earth, but this Disney double standard seemed to me a good example of entrepreneurial false morality. In this times when bullfighting is almost universally condemned, the last act of "The Littlest Outlaw" is built around one such scene in which animals (and humans, including a toreador who seems to be actually gored by a bull) are hurt for the pleasure of the masses. Unfortunately this sequence is perhaps the only segment in which "The Littlest Outlaw" is less insipid and becomes vivid, because otherwise it is a routine melodrama with equestrian choreography and a little comedy here and there. The Mexican locale is merely an excuse, for the story can happen anywhere, but in the end that intent for narrating something "latino" proved to be the worst aspect of the movie. By 1955 Mexican director Roberto Gavaldón had made fine melodramas, including "The Kneeling Goddess", "In the Palm of Your Hand", "Night Falls", "The Three Perfect Married Women" and powerful rural tales as "Rosauro Castro", "The Shawl of Soledad" and "Green Shadow"; while there were more appreciable works to come after this Disney production: "Ash Wednesday", "Macario", "Rosa Blanca" and "The Golden Cockerel". But in this tale of boy and horse wandering through the country side, conceived by producer Larry Lansburgh (whose filmography shows a strong liking for animal movies), Gavaldón could not avoid the Disney formula, with a saccharine relationship between boy and horse, odd and funny secondary characters, a silly song called "Doroteo", and a kid that hardly looks as a rural Mexican boy of indigenous ancestry, who would look more comfortable in a suburb of Mexico City. Pedro Armendáriz and Rodolfo Acosta play the rude men they used to portray in their sleep, the rest of the Mexican actors are efficient and likable, and everybody seems to enjoy what they were doing. I am sorry to say that I could not share their enthusiasm.
