The Secret of NIMH (1982) – Don Bluth Gives Animation The Respect It Deserves

Don Bluth is one of those filmmakers who fascinates me, despite the fact that I had never seen one of his films until now. People talk about his animated efforts with even more reverence than we normally reserve for the best Disney and Pixar films. If you’re like me and endlessly watch videos of Letterboxd asking actors and directors their four favorite films, you’ll often find a Bluth film among their choices.

I’ve frequently heard how All Dogs Go to Heaven makes even the strongest of us cry. I’ve heard how heartwarming An American Tail is, and I’ve certainly heard about the countless sequels that The Land Before Time has spawned. Yet, I hadn’t watched any of his films until recently. It seemed fitting to start with what’s considered his finest work: The Secret of NIMH. This film revealed itself to me as a superb example of fantasy animation that treats its audience with respect.

The script is dark, rich, and deeply engaging, managing to cover a lot in just under 90 minutes. Unlike many animated classics, we’re not following a precocious, hyperactive child thrust into a magical world of bright colors and friendly creatures. Instead, we follow Mrs. Brisby, a widowed field mouse and mother of four, including the gravely ill Timothy. She must find a new home for her family after the farmer whose land they inhabit begins ploughing early.

As if that wasn’t enough, we learn that Mrs. Brisby, her late husband, and a colony of intimidating rats were subjected to horrific experiments at NIMH (the National Institute of Mental Health). These experiments granted them human intelligence and qualities. Watching this, I couldn’t help but think I’d already had my fill of cute animals enduring horrifying experiments after Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3.

This isn’t leagues darker than what Disney has done in the past—over forty years earlier, they showed innocent children being turned into donkeys and sold off as slaves in Pinocchio. That’s not to downplay just how effective this film is, but it’s worth noting how strange it is that Disney passed on the rights to Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, the book this film is based on.

At the time, Don Bluth was still working at Disney when a colleague handed him the book. He was desperate to adapt it into a film, but Disney turned it down for two hilariously dumb reasons: they already had a mouse mascot (as though Mickey and Mrs. Brisby would ever be confused), and they had recently made another mouse-centric film, The Rescuers. Ironically, they didn’t seem to have had their fill of mice when they made a sequel to The Rescuers in 1990. Frustrated, Bluth left Disney, started his own production company, and made the film his way.

You can tell almost immediately that this isn’t Disney. There’s magic, but it feels weirder, more sinister, and deeply rooted in reality. The worlds of the film—the natural forest and the eerie confines of NIMH—are both heightened but in different ways. I loved the contrast between the vivid, earthy tones of the forest and the sterile, menacing walls of NIMH.

Visually, the entire film is stunning. Bluth’s hand-drawn animation shows the influence of his Disney training, but it’s clear he wanted to create something richer and more classical in style. The character designs are fantastic, especially among the animals inhabiting the rose bush. The Great Owl, in particular, is an unforgettable visual marvel, and every scene featuring it is captivating.

The story is far more intricate than the typical Disney classics. While films like Snow White, Bambi, or Cinderella are undeniably iconic, their narratives are relatively simple. In contrast, The Secret of NIMH demands your full attention. Every line of dialogue feels significant, not just because missing something might make you lose track of the story, but because the world Bluth has crafted is so compelling. There aren’t many locations in the film, but each one feels richly developed and imbued with emotional weight—especially the farm when the ploughing begins.

The voice cast delivers exceptional performances. Derek Jacobi, as expected, is phenomenal, and Wil Wheaton, in one of his earliest roles, voices one of Mrs. Brisby’s children. However, the standout is Elizabeth Hartman, in her final film role, who brings depth and humanity to Mrs. Brisby. She captures the desperation and grief of a mother fighting for her family’s survival, elevating an already excellent script to an emotionally resonant level.

I can’t say how I would’ve reacted to The Secret of NIMH if I’d seen it at nine or ten years old. I doubt I would have found it too scary—after all, I watched Coraline at nine and wasn’t deterred by its creepiness. However, I might have struggled to follow the story, as my attention span wasn’t the best back then (honestly, it still isn’t).

Today, I’d compare it to films from Studio Ghibli or Cartoon Saloon—animated works unafraid to take risks and explore mature themes, with unique, lovingly crafted visual styles. The Secret of NIMH predates Ghibli by a few years, though the studio would soon go on to make its own masterpieces. Cartoon Saloon wouldn’t emerge until the mid-2000s, giving The Secret of NIMH plenty of time to cement its place as a trailblazer.

Ultimately, this film is a shining example of what happens when animation is treated with the respect it deserves. I’m already looking forward to watching All Dogs Go to Heaven—and having a good cry—sometime soon.

Alex’s Archive – The Secret of NIMH (1982)