Disney+, the company's new direct-to-consumer streaming platform, offers a multitude of pleasures, from the chance to re-watch classic animated favorites, to the chance to fall in love with brand new series like The Mandalorian and The Imagineering Story. There's also just the fun of stumbling upon some half-forgotten oddity from your childhood and realizing, Oh my God I can watch this anytime I want. It's those nostalgic gems that we want to focus on today, as we come through the archeological dig of your own memory and uncover some lost treasures.
Mickey's Christmas Carol (1983)
There are, admittedly, a ton of great Disney Christmas movies on Disney+ (spoiler alert: Noelle is not one of them) but few can give you the kind of hallucinogenic flashbacks that watching just a few seconds of Mickey's Christmas Carol will provide. Originally attached to the theatrical exhibition of The Rescuers in 1983 but with arguably a longer shelf life than that movie thanks to the many seasonal broadcasts and home video releases, Mickey's Christmas Carol is, hands down, the most gorgeously animated Christmas short you're ever going to see. This was largely to do with the fact that Walt Disney Feature Animation, in the early 1980's, didn't have much to do, which is why a seemingly insignificant project like this one (with your favorite Disney characters "playing" parts in the Charles Dickens-derived story) was overseen by Disney Legend Burny Mattinson (who came back to work on the similar "The Prince and the Pauper" a few years later), who co-wrote, produced and directed. Joining him on the animation were a cavalcade of Disney all-stars, including (but not limited to) Mark Henn, Glen Keane, Dale Baer, Randy Cartwright and future Pixar head honcho John Lasseter. If you want a straight line to not only nostalgic feels but also holiday cheer, then fire Mickey's Christmas Carol up and get ready for your jaw to hit the floor. Seriously: it's that gorgeous.
Adventures of the Gummi Bears (1986)
When new merchandise is released based off of the beloved Disney Afternoon cartoon series, Adventures of the Gummi Bears rarely makes the cut. So you'd probably assume that the show, a high fantasy adventure about a young boy and a band of bouncing anthropomorphic bears, was some flash in the pan, lasting for a few seasons and quietly sputtering out. But no. Adventures of the Gummi Bears lasted for six seasons and ran a whopping 65 episodes. Just put on an episode, by the second verse of the iconic theme music (written by Michael and Patty Silversher, who also did the theme song for TaleSpin and contributed to a number of the Disney Afternoon shows), you'll be transported back in time. Not to the vaguely medieval setting of the show, but to the late 1980s or early 1990s, sitting in front of the TV after school with a half-eaten bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. The historical importance of Adventures of the Gummi Bears cannot be overstated, by the way. This was the first fully Disney animated series under the Michael Eisner regime. He reportedly wanted to bring feature-quality animation to television and was inspired (and this is true) by his son's love of Haribo gummy bears. Watching even a few episodes, especially in those early seasons, you can tell he succeeded in this goal. It might not be as hip to enjoy as DuckTales or Darkwing Duck, but Adventures of the Gummi Bears has just as much ambition and artistic merit as those other shows.
Flight of the Navigator (1986)
Part of why you'll only half-remember Flight of the Navigator is because it already has a dreamlike quality to it, a can-this-really-be-true sensibility. This movie is certifiably nuts, a kind of reverse E.T. that finds a young boy (Joey Cramer) abducted by a spacecraft near his Florida home and traveling across the cosmos. You might only remember snippets of the movie, but they're probably pretty vivid - the voice of the spaceship laughing like Pee-Wee Herman (since he's voiced by Paul Reubens, who would voice a similar character a year later for Star Tours), a cuddly but still sort of creepy alien creatures (wonderfully puppeteered), and lots of talk about time travel. (The boy returns from his maiden voyage and many years have passed, although he looks the same age.) Grease filmmaker Randal Kleiser, who appears elsewhere on this list (don't you worry), is keenly aware that centering the film around the kid and his obviously complicated emotions is the only way to ground a film that can get very far-out, resulting in a movie much better, and more rousing (that Alan Silvestri score!), than you remember. That is, if you remember it at all.
The Prince and the Pauper (1990)
If you saw the very underrated The Rescuers Down Under in theaters in 1990 (as I did, at the Crossroads Mall in San Antonio, Texas), you got an extra treat: this lushly animated adaptation of Mark Twain's The Prince and the Pauper, starring Mickey as the title character(s), alongside Donald, Goofy, et al. At just 25 minutes, it's both shorter and probably more in-depth than you remembered, and its place in Disney history has been somewhat overlooked: it was the last animated film from (what was then known as) Walt Disney Feature Animation to utilize the traditional ink-and-paint process, as it was soon replaced with the digital CAPS system (co-developed by Pixar) and features a murderer's row of behind-the-scenes talent led by filmmaker George Scribner (who had just directed Oliver & Company) that would wind up being responsible for some of the biggest hits of the Disney Renaissance - Roger Allers (The Lion King), Gary Trousdale (Beauty and the Beast), Kirk Wise (Beauty and the Beast) and actual Disney Legend Burny Mattinson (who worked on the story for every major Disney movie of the period, including Aladdin and Mulan). The Prince and the Pauper, which is really staggeringly beautiful, would also be the last theatrical Mickey appearance until 1995's controversial "Runaway Brain," a film that, unsurprisingly, has yet to make its way onto Disney+.
Three Men and a Little Lady (1990)
Both Three Men and a Baby and Three Men and a Little Lady are currently available on Disney+ and both feature a hero image of Tom Selleck looking frazzled with his rumpled bowtie undone. (Were working professionals wearing more bowties back then?) And while Three Men and a Baby is the better, more memorable film (with Disney+ allowing you to freeze-frame the ghost boy in HD), Three Men and a Little Lady is definitely the one you forgot and, it should be remembered, climaxes with Ted Danson creepily taking off a prosthetic nose. Still, the sequel, loosely based on the French farce Three Men and a Cradle, is one of those handsomely produced, well-acted Touchstone movies of the period and, with its release on Disney+, should sit comfortably next to films like Father of the Bride (not yet on Disney+) and Sister Act and its sequel (both on Disney+).
Duck Tales: Treasure of the Lost Lamp (1990)
Yes, DuckTales was the defining series of the Disney Afternoon programming block (and, one could argue, mainstream television animation of that era that wasn't The Simpsons), a beautiful synthesis of the Carl Barks comic books and the Eisner-mandated implementation of feature film quality animation. But do you remember that there was a movie, too? Because there was. Designated a "Disney MovieToon," to indicate that it wasn't exactly a Walt Disney Animation release (the division would later become Disneytoon Studios) and initially conceived as a five-part episode, Treasure of the Lost Lamp featured the voice cast from the television series (notably Alan Young and Russi Taylor), including Christopher Lloyd as the heavy and, um, Rip Taylor, as the voice of a helpful genie. It also featured more noticeably sophisticated animation, thanks largely to the Disney animation satellite studios in London and Paris. While not exactly memorable, there are some fairly intense moments that have been lodged in my brain since childhood, particularly a moment where our heroes are being menaced by snappy, stinging scorpions. What seems particularly odd, looking back on it, is how Treasure of the Lost Lamp, with a plot about a magical genie and ancient Egypt, was released theatrically just two years before Aladdin. Of course, DuckTales movie would go on to become a footnote and Aladdin would be recognized as a modern classic. Maybe it's time to uncover the Lost Legend on Disney+?
White Fang (1991)
Randal Kleiser returns! (Told you.) In the early 1990s Disney was doing a lot of well-produced literary adaptations, whether it was 1993's The Adventures of Huck Finn (currently not available on Disney+), The Three Musketeers (also 1993 but available on Disney+) or 1995's loose Mark Twain adaptation A Kid in King Arthur's Court (available on Disney+). One of the best from that crop, although one of the least remembered, was White Fang, based on the Jack London novel and, incredibly, featuring the same wolfdog from the similarly underrated Disney live-action feature from 1985, The Journey of Natty Gann (also on Disney+). Things you might remember from this movie but probably don't: a young Ethan Hawke, already handsome as hell; just how cute that dog is; an appearance by horror weirdo Bill Moseley; a soaring score composed by (and this is true) Basil Poledouris and Hans Zimmer. It's the kind of sturdy, all-ages adventure movie Disney doesn't release theatrically that often anymore, instead favoring franchises and known IP, but it's also the kind of movie that they might make nowadays for Disney+.
Life with Mikey (1993)
The amount of talent behind Life with Mikey is insane, especially considering that you maybe remember it. It was directed by James Lapine, a frequent Stephen Sondheim collaborator who won the Tony three times, produced by super-producer Scott Rudin and was written by Marc Lawrence (who would go on to make Two Weeks Notice and Miss Congeniality and whose new movie Noelle just premiered on Disney+). Also, Alan Menken did the music for reasons I cannot fathom. The cast, too, is filled with Disney regulars, from lead Michael J. Fox who voiced Chance in Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (released the same year as Life with Mikey) and its 1996 and was the voice of Milo in Walt Disney Animation Studios' Atlantis: The Lost Empire to Nathan Lane, who would voice Pumbaa in The Lion King the following year, to young stars David Krumholtz (Bernard the Elf in the Santa Clause franchise) and Christina Vidal, who made her debut in Life with Mikey and went on to appear in a number of Disney projects, from the Freaky Friday remake to the beloved DCOM Brink to the recent ABC prime time soap Grand Hotel. Watching five minutes of Life with Mikey will probably trigger some remembrance; it's the story of a former child star (Fox), seemingly based on the "Mikey likes it!" kid from the Life Cereal commercials (hence the title), who is now a child talent agent who discovers a rough-around-the-edges con artist and turns her into an adorable spokesperson. The premise is the stuff of B-grade John Hughes comedies from the same period (Curly Sue anyone?) but the performers and lively direction give it some unexpected snap, crackle and pop.
The Big Green (1995)
At the very least you remember the poster for The Big Green, which featured Chauncey Leopardi (from The Sandlot, also on Disney+), getting hit in the crotch with a soccer ball while awkward onlookers (and a goat) gawked from the sidelines. Disney was obviously looking for the next Mighty Ducks, which it didn't get with The Big Green. But with its oddball sense of humor, slightly elevated storyline (following a British coach played by Olivia d'Arbo introducing the game of footy to some American youths) and rural Texas setting, it does stand apart from similar sports movies of the period and is certainly worth a revisit. The Big Green is also notable for being one of the few Disney movies from the period to be written and directed by a woman (Holly Goldberg Sloan, who wrote the terrific Angels in the Outfield remake for Disney, sadly not on Disney+).
Quack Pack (1996)
Listen, not all Disney Afternoon series are going to be winners. But if you have fond memories of Goof Troop (the series that ultimately led to cult classic A Goofy Movie), then you probably remember Quack Pack, the aggressively 90s update of Donald's relationship with his nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie. Quack Pack (originally titled Duck Daze, which is still referenced in the totally rockin' theme song with the lyric "Duck Daze this way!" and the title being said again before a second voice awkwardly shouts "Quack Pack!") featuring a number of competing ideas haphazardly crammed into the same format: it was meant to age up the nephews, now teenagers with distinct personalities and no longer voiced by the legendary Russi Taylor (instead Jeannie Elias, Pamela Adlon and Elizabeth Daily were cast); it also had to stand apart from DuckTales (which was still being rerun at the time of Quack Pack's debut); and, perhaps most importantly, it was meant to be funny and irreverent and appeal to 90s audiences. (The first episode is called "The Really Mighty Ducks" and is a very lame superhero riff.) Like all Disney Afternoon shows, the animation is top notch even if the updated designs are a bit wonky, and its sense of humor mostly works. It's just hard because you can feel how desperately with it they were trying to be with this one. As a time capsule and nostalgic artifact, it works much better.
Mighty Ducks: The Animated Series (1996)
Disney was all about the Mighty Ducks franchise in the 1990s, with three films between 1992 and 1996 (all available on Disney+) and the implementation of a Disney-owned NHL team called the Mighty Ducks that would play in Anaheim, California, down the road from Disneyland, in a stadium nicknamed "The Pond." (In 2005, Disney sold the team.) But the one bit of Mighty Ducks miscellanea that you probably only sort of remember, was a short-lived animated series with a bizarre premise and questionable appeal. Mighty Ducks: The Animated Series is proof that not all Disney Afternoon shows are created equal. Starting with a groan-worthy song (with vocals by Starship member Mickey Thomas), which you actually might remember for its weird catchiness, the series follows a group of anthropomorphic ducks from an alternate universe (shades of the Howard the Duck movie), who rescue their homeworld from a group of marauding, dinosaur-y villains and, thanks to some plot mechanics too complicated to get into here, wind up on our world. (Sadly, the bad guys are here too.) While on earth, these humanoid ducks battle evil, stop crime, and play lots of kick-ass hockey. Oh and for extra synergy, the show is set in Anaheim. The animation is nice but far from the cream of the Disney Afternoon crop, the designs are awkward as hell, and the story is unnecessarily confusing. Part of the reason why you only partially remember it is because it only lasted 26 episodes (DuckTales ran for 100), and it's worth revisiting for the insane world-building that ultimately went nowhere and perhaps the most 90's voice cast of all time (featuring Ian Ziering, James Belushi, Dennis Franz, Tim Curry and David Hyde-Pierce) and jokes like, "An expert in technical stuff, she was so good she knew how to set the timer on her VCR." Worth noting, too, that these episodes are being streamed on Disney+ in the correct order, so you'll be able to view Mighty Ducks: The Animated Series as it was intended.
James and the Giant Peach (1996)
Many of the movies and TV shows on this list can be described as "unsuccessful follow-ups," and, certainly, dingy Roald Dahl adaptation James and the Giant Peach falls into that category. Meant to capitalize on the success of The Nightmare Before Christmas, it reunited producer Tim Burton, director Henry Selick, and the stop-motion team assembled for that earlier film, Skellington Studios. Unfortunately, in an effort to keep costs under control, the film features too-long live-action bookends (fuzzily shot by the usually wonderful Hiro Narita) that dampen the fun of the typically wonderful stop-motion material that makes up the meat of the movie. If you need something to trigger that deep part of your brain where only dusty nostalgic things lie, why not fire up the "That's the Life for Me" musical number, a bit that was heavily promoted on Disney VHS tapes from that period and on the nascent Disney Channel. (It's important to note that all the songs were written by a post-Toy Story Randy Newman.) If you're feeling even more nostalgic while watching it, that probably has something to do with the way the characters look, since they were designed by Lane Smith, who illustrated ubiquitous, super-'90s children's book staple The Stinky Cheese Man a couple of years earlier. While garnering warm critical notices, the film failed to connect with audiences and remains something of an oddity and Selick wouldn't work with the studio again for decades, until he set up a stop-motion imprint of Pixar that was ultimately doomed (nothing produced from that period was ever finished, much less Disney+ ready). But that's a story for another time.
Mighty Joe Young (1998)
The end of the 1990s saw a rash of giant monster remakes, perhaps spawned by the success of Steven Spielberg's Jurassic Park, with Sony's splashy, ill-fated Roland Emmerich/Dean Devlin version of Godzilla (also 1998), Universal's Peter Jackson-led King Kong redo (which wouldn't actually get made until almost a decade later) and Disney's new take on Mighty Joe Young. Even if you never saw Mighty Joe Young, you probably remember the marketing campaign, including a trailer that fixated on a shot of the titular giant gorilla standing, befuddled, on a Los Angeles freeway. (He's in the urban jungle now! Do you get it?) This is a much better movie than people give it credit for (it was largely a financial disappointment and, clearly, not all that well-remembered), energetically directed by Tremors vet Ron Underwood and featuring killer visual effects courtesy of make-up magician Rick Baker and the digital wizards at Industrial Light & Magic. It's also worth watching (or re-watching) for its cast, led by a young and almost uncomfortably adorable Charlize Theron and a lovably gruff Bill Paxton, but featuring a number of notable faces in supporting roles, including Regina King, David Paymer and Lost alum Naveen Andrews. If it had been released under different circumstances, like, say, not six months after the disastrous Godzilla put the kibosh on giant monster remakes, it would probably be more fondly remembered.
My Favorite Martian (1999)
Oh you know Disney was a part of the rash of movies based on classic TV shows that flooded multiplexes in the 1990s, providing one of the weirder entries into the already odd sub-genre. My Favorite Martian, based on the CBS television series that ran from 1963 to 1966 (for more than 100 episodes), starred Christopher Lloyd in the title role originated by Ray Walston (who of course has a thankless supporting role here) and Jeff Daniels as a hapless earthling. It's saying something when one of the most memorable aspects of the movie was the anthropomorphic space suit voiced by Wayne Knight. (The trailer, in a truly outstanding example of being the most 1990s, features "Zoot Suit Riot.") Or maybe you remember the bizarre short that played before it in theaters, where Pluto gets abducted and probed while trying to grab the newspaper for Mickey - it's set to surf music (another bizarre 1990s obsession) for some reason. Clearly trying to tap into the success of extraterrestrial comedy Men in Black (with a side of BFE - that's Big Flubber Energy), it piles unconvincing visual effects on top of a pedestrian story, this isn't some lost classic. It's a mildly enjoyable romp (Lloyd's line delivery, no matter how terrible the dialogue is, consistently kills) that, if you've run out of things to watch on Disney+, might be fun to revisit. Or not.
Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century (1999)
There are a few genuine Disney Channel Original Movie juggernauts; movies that spawn spin-offs and sequels and become synonymous with the DCOM brand. High School Musical is probably the biggest example of this (there's even a new series on Disney+ inspired by the original films), as well as Halloweentown and the more recent phenomenon surrounding Descendants (about the children of Disney Villains not George Clooney's dead wife). And then there's Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century, which feels only half-remembered, like some neon-lit fever dream, but spawned two sequels Zenon: The Zequel (2001) and Zenon: Z3 (2004), all of which are available now on Disney+. Based on a picture book from 1997 by Marilyn Sadler and Roger Bollen and intended as the backdoor pilot for a follow-up television series, the official description is "Zenon must thwart a villain's plot after she's grounded and sent to Earth." Got that? Good.