[7.5/10] The essential goal of any movie is to keep the viewer engrossed in what they’re experiencing. There’s a million ways to do that, and different genres accomplish that in different ways. Comedies might do it with amusing situations, dramas with heart-rending moments, and horror films with terrifying sequences. But whatever the flavor of the movie, they all share that central incentive -- to keep you invested and entertained on their own terms.

I tend to think of that in terms of story and character. It’s easier for me to become engrossed with a film when I’m intrigued by what’s going to happen next and when I care about how a particular player will grow and change over the course of the movie. That’s not the only way to do it though, as *Snow White* proves.

Whatever the film lacks in a propulsive story or three-dimensional characters, it makes up for in the sheer amount of personality and wonder Disney and company pack into every single frame. From the sheer imagery, to the animation, to the expressiveness of everyone and everything in the world of the film, it cannot help but command your attention and ultimately your care. As basic as the fairytale is, and as simple as its major figures are, you will be transfixed by the presentation from start to finish through everything else the movie does so well.

The visuals are the star of the show. One of the most impressive things about *Snow White* is how effortlessly it walks the line between realism and exaggeration. This is a story involving magic and fairytale creatures, with loony sequences and all-too-helpful woodland creatures and frightening transformations. But every element of the movie comes with its own gravity and weight to each step and setting and gesture. There’s too much caricature here to mistake anything happening as real, but the attention to detail in each background and movement creates a subtle believability that breeds investment in every moment.

That’s particularly true for the character designs. Snow White herself is a paper doll brought to life. The roto-scoping gives her and Prince Charming an almost ethereal quality, gliding about this world angelically with almost impossible smooth movements. The dwarfs, by contrast, are made out of rubber and jelly, their bodies bouncing and bounding back toward equilibrium with each landing and collision. Somewhere in between are the now-iconic woodland creatures, who are anthropomorphized enough to emote and convey urgency and humor, but who gallop or flit around with an impressive grace and gravity. As a sheer effort to breathe life into ink and paint, *Snow White* is a tour de force.

But the peak of this approach is the evil queen. In her more “fair” guise, she has the same realistic bent of Snow White matched with sharper gestures and a more dramatic wardrobe that make her into an imposing figure. In her withered peddler disguise, she still makes her way through this animated world with a certain realism to her movements, but also takes on a more exaggerated air which makes her and her ploy seem all the more grotesque and unnerving. More than any other character, the villainous queen has to be perfectly calibrated to evoke the desired response, and the movie nails it every time.

It’s also adept at just forging striking images, apart from any particular character. The castle on a faraway hill may look spooky in a black sky or inviting in golden hues. The tasteful suggestion of the poisoned apple rolling out of Snow White’s suddenly limp arm or a pair of malevolent vultures flying into the mist to feast on their freshly fallen prey shows skillful editing and composition. Closing sequences of pouring rain and flashing lightning convey the desperation and terror when the film reaches a boiling point. In brief, each scene is art, wholly separate from the larger story being told.

It’s also a surprisingly scary film. The old queen’s transformation from human to hag is rife with subtle body horror. Her spell to create the poison apple includes ghastly incantations and deathly images. Snow White’s run through the forest uses impressionistic effects to convey her fear of each gnarled tree and upturned driftwood. Even the famed magic mirror has a certain spookiness to him, a disembodied face wavering over mist and smoke. As goofy as the film can be in places, it also doesn’t hesitate to chill the audience when it can.

That’s certainly counterbalanced by a healthy dose of comic relief. There’s not much point to the dwarfs getting washed up for supper, or a cottage-wide dance party, or a woodland critter-assisted clean up brigade. But these sequences work as pure fun, with the dwarfs nigh-literally bouncing off one another with comic abandon to endear the audience to them and lighten the mood of a subtly dark tale.

That tale is a simple one, of a queen’s jealousy and a young woman’s hope for true love. There’s not many twists or turns to it, and the film fills up plenty of its runtime with fluff about spring cleaning or naifs mistaken for intruders. Even beyond the dwarfs defined by their adjectival names, every character is one-dimensional, with some basic characteristic or want and little to them beyond it. Eighty years hence, the title character in particular seems impossibly good and a little annoying with her tremulous, high-pitched voice. Hell, the only person in *Snow White* with anything even approaching an arc is Grumpy, who goes from amusingly crabby and resentful of Snow White to affectionate and even protective of her. In most films, I’d slate those things as insurmountable flaws.

But despite those nominal sins, there is such character and detail packed into each sequence and setting. From the superlative steps and motion in the dance sequence, to the swirling of background and foreground around Snow White in a tense moment, every minute of the film reflects the distinctive figures who inhabit it. You can feel the care and attention the Disney studio’s animators put into every part of this production. There’s so much life and color throughout, that even when the movie lingers in its cul-de-sacs or sillier interludes, you cannot help but be enchanted by it.

There are many routes to winning over your audience. It can mean crafting a narrative, and major players within it, who capture our imaginations. But it can also mean simply crafting delightful scenes and memorable sequences, filled to the brim with distinctive visuals and character all their own, that keep us enthralled and amazed from beginning to end.