Yesterday, with the trailer for Cruella on the way, I realized I had never seen 1961’s One Hundred and One Dalmatians, or at least it had been so long since I saw it that I completely forgot about it. Obviously, I knew the plot—Cruella de Vil wants to skin a bunch of puppies to make a coat—but since Disney was willing to make a live-action prequel about the villain, surely there must be more to her than that.

There’s not. Cruella is a basic and largely uninteresting character in One Hundred and One Dalmatians defined only by her bravado and that she wants to murder puppies to make a coat. Imagine a less fun version of Yzma from The Emperor’s New Groove, and you’ve kind of got it. There’s no shading to Cruella, nor is there anything particularly delectable about her like there is about a villain like Maleficent.

But what’s particularly baffling about Cruella de Vil is that her plan doesn’t make a lot of sense. For those who haven’t seen (or have forgotten) One Hundred and One Dalmatians, here’s the basic plot: the story is told from the perspective of the dalmatian Pongo, who meets fellow dalmatian Perdita, and they end up having 15 puppies. Those puppies are then kidnapped by Horace and Jasper, the henchmen of Cruella de Vil, who is an acquaintance of Perdita’s owner. The puppies are taken to a dilapidated mansion where we discover there are 84 other dalmatian puppies. With news of the missing pups making the papers, Cruella wants to take care of the issue quickly, so she tells Horace and Jasper to kill and skin the puppies. Eventually the puppies get away, make it back home, and all is well (although Cruella is still out in the world and it’s not like there’s any way for anyone to know she was responsible for the dognapping).

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Image via Disney

Here’s where I get confused: What exactly what Cruella’s plan had she succeeded? Let’s say that Horace and Jasper kill all 99 puppies and skin them—then what? It’s unlikely that Horace and Jasper know how to make a coat, and Cruella, who has already shown us that she’s willing to outsource labor, probably won’t do it either. So now you’ve got to find a seamstress, bring him or her the 99 dalmatian puppy skins, and hope that they don’t have any moral qualms with making a puppy coat or ask questions even though news of the missing pups has been in the paper.

So even if this succeeds, Cruella then gets a coat made out of dalmatian puppies, and that’s the end of it? Again, this news has made the papers, and while Cruella is particularly vile, it’s not exactly the perfect crime to wear the things that you stole. “Oh, Cruella. What an…unusual coat,” someone might ask. “What is it made of?” And she says, “Dalmatian.” Which, it’s 1960s London; it’s not socially acceptable to wear dogs, and while you could argue that Cruella doesn’t care, she’s clearly obsessed with fashion and being stylish, and yet she wants a piece of outwear that would make her a pariah and also inform everyone that she probably stole all those puppies.

Obviously, One Hundred and One Dalmatians is a children’s film, and kids don’t need to understand it beyond “The mean lady wants to hurt the doggies,” and on that level, yes, it works. But if you’re worried that Cruella will somehow diminish the sanctity of the original movie or character, you can lay that fear to rest. There’s really only room for improvement.