Director James Mangold might well have been left to struggle as a novelist in a dank North Hollywood apartment had it not been for the encouragement he received to reinvigorate his film career. Prior to his isolation in the sun-bleached San Fernando Valley, his one-year deal to write and direct for Disney handed to him right after college was called off. Disillusioned by a studio system hell-bent on wallowing in mediocrity, the 21-year-old was baffled to learn that Disney was more interested in making commercial dreck rather than illustrious art. Added to the mix was his penchant for
