Von Spatz is not based on a true story. Well, at least not true as in factual. In it, Anna Haifisch imagines Walt Disney undergoing a nervous breakdown and entering a rehabilitation facility to get his groove back. It’s miles away from being a work of historical fiction, as time periods blur into one another (marvel at the sight of Disney, who died in 1966, parading around an art gallery opening in an “I’m With Stupid” T-shirt) and circumstances become charmingly surreal (an art therapist at one point prompts the center’s patients to “draw a story with three elements. A bucket, a chickadee, and a weasel with a funny hat.”). And yet, somehow, the short graphic novella feels true to the life of the mind, which is typically filled with perpetual self-loathing and myriad self-imposed obstacles. The squirmy, straightforward linework and vivid pastels lend the whole endeavor a placid dignity that sticks with you long after you put it down.