Forget the gentle watercolours and charming songs of the 1961 animation for a moment. Cast your mind back to 1996. Disney was betting big on live-action, and the idea of bringing 101 Dalmatians into the real world felt both exciting and audacious. Could anyone truly capture the chaotic energy of all those puppies, let alone embody one of animation's most deliciously wicked villains? The answer, arriving in a swirl of fur and theatrical mania, was a resounding yes, largely thanks to one unforgettable performance.
A Hughesian Tale of Tails
Helmed by Stephen Herek, a director already familiar to VHS fans from hits like Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989) and The Mighty Ducks (1992), this adaptation aimed for broader, more physical comedy. Perhaps that's unsurprising given the script was penned by none other than John Hughes, the maestro of 80s teen classics, albeit writing under his frequent family-film pseudonym, Edmond Dantès. While Hughes traded high school hallways for London townhouses, his knack for slapstick and slightly anarchic energy is palpable, particularly in the antics of Cruella’s hapless henchmen. He updated the story, making Roger (a perfectly cast, affable Jeff Daniels) a struggling video game designer and Anita (Joely Richardson, radiating warmth) a fashion designer working for the formidable House of De Vil. This contemporary twist grounded the fantasy just enough, providing relatable human anchors amidst the impending puppy peril.
All Hail Queen Cruella
Let's be honest, though: the success of this film hinges almost entirely on Glenn Close's legendary turn as Cruella De Vil. Forget subtle interpretations; Close devoured the role whole, delivering a performance of magnificent, high-camp villainy that remains iconic. It wasn't just the elaborate costumes by Anthony Powell (who won an Oscar for Tess (1979) and worked on Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)) or the striking black-and-white hair; it was the posture, the voice, that instantly legendary cackle that seemed to echo with pure, unadulterated avarice. Close reportedly pushed for Cruella to have a more palpable edge, even suggesting details like the long cigarette holder and the character's almost feral movements. She transforms what could have been a mere caricature into a genuinely intimidating, albeit hilariously over-the-top, force of nature. It’s a performance that feels both utterly theatrical and brilliantly realized, a high-wire act Close pulls off with gleeful perfection. Watching her chew the scenery is half the fun, and easily the most memorable part of the experience. I distinctly remember being mesmerized by her sheer on-screen presence back in the day – she was terrifying, yet utterly captivating.
Puppy Pandemonium (and Practical Magic)
Of course, you can't have 101 Dalmatians without... well, dalmatians. Handling the sheer number of canine co-stars presented a monumental challenge for Herek and his team. While hundreds of real puppies were used during filming (primarily at London's Shepperton Studios and on location), the simple fact is that puppies grow fast. To maintain consistency and pull off the more complex sequences involving masses of spotted pups, the production relied heavily on a combination of animatronics created by Jim Henson's Creature Shop and, for the time, cutting-edge computer-generated imagery. Rewatching it now, you can sometimes spot the digital seams, a charming reminder of the era's effects work, but the blend was remarkably effective for 1996. The scenes of puppies outsmarting the bumbling Jasper (Hugh Laurie, pre-House) and Horace (Mark Williams, later Mr. Weasley in the Harry Potter films) are filled with the kind of practical, knockabout comedy that Hughes excelled at, providing plenty of laughs for younger viewers and nostalgic chuckles for us older ones.
A Box Office Spot Sensation
Despite its hefty $75 million budget (around $145 million today), Disney's gamble paid off spectacularly. 101 Dalmatians fetched a massive $320.6 million worldwide, proving audiences were eager for these live-action reimaginings of animated classics. It became one of the biggest hits of 1996, cementing Glenn Close's status as a screen legend capable of commanding both drama and outrageous comedy, and spawning a sequel, 102 Dalmatians (2000). While perhaps lacking the quiet charm and emotional depth of the 1961 original, the live-action version offers its own distinct pleasures: energetic pacing, enjoyable slapstick, and that truly unforgettable central performance. It captured imaginations, filled video stores, and gave us a Cruella De Vil for a new generation.
The Verdict
Watching 101 Dalmatians (1996) today is like revisiting a boisterous, slightly chaotic family gathering. It's loud, full of energy, and dominated by one scene-stealing relative you can't take your eyes off. Glenn Close's performance is worth the price of admission alone, a masterclass in villainous glee. While the plot is straightforward and some effects show their age, the film's blend of John Hughes' comedic sensibilities, Stephen Herek's capable direction, and the undeniable appeal of puppies versus pure evil remains highly entertaining. It successfully translated the spirit of the animation into a vibrant live-action romp that stands as a fun, memorable piece of 90s Disney filmmaking.
Rating: 7/10 - While not quite matching the timeless perfection of its animated predecessor, this live-action take is elevated significantly by Glenn Close's iconic, go-for-broke performance and John Hughes' knack for crowd-pleasing physical comedy. It's a fun, energetic adaptation that delivers exactly the kind of spotted chaos you'd hope for, making it a worthy resident of any nostalgic VHS collection.