Guest Post: Disney's Snow White with Matthew

Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

or “How Disney Popularized a Really, REALLY Mediocre Faerie Tale With Vastly Entertaining Filler Material”

Seriously, folks, let’s face it. What does the story of Snow White really have to offer? Not that much. It’s basically Sleeping Beauty with little people. If not for Walt Disney’s odd fixation with this story, it would fall into the same category of “Faerie Tales That Only Scholars and Enthusiasts Know About” that also contains stories like “The Juniper Tree” and “The Six Swans” and other stories I’m sure you haven’t heard of [I am ridiculously sad that "The Six Swans is one of these stories. Enough to want to tack another month onto this project to cover it. So save my sanity and go read it for yourself! - CG]. 

 

So what is it, exactly, about this story that so entranced Walt? Well, for all its flaws, the story actually lends itself very well to the type of movie Disney needed at this time. Disney had been putting out a number of animated shorts and he wanted to take the next step and make a full-length, fully animated feature film, something no one had ever done before.

So Walt needed to tread carefully here. At this point, animation was for those funny shorts people saw at the beginnings of their movies, between the news reel and feature film. (Or wherever they put it, I’m just naming a couple things you would see at the movies in those days.) There would need to be a fair amount of entertainment in this film. Now, if you haven’t watched this movie for a while, watch it again, and really pay attention to actual plot-driven aspects of the film versus the filler material.

We start with our opening narration, giving us the backstory in the form of a storybook, just like the two faerie tale animated features that would come in the fifties. We learn that Snow White is a princess and an orphan, and her wicked stepmother, the vain Evil Queen, forces her to work as a scullery maid, which as we see in a scene a few minutes later, she does without complaint. I mean, you’d think that, as a teenage girl with raging hormones, she’d be pitching a fit, saying things like, “You’re not my real mother!” and “You can’t make me!” and whatnot, but no, Snow White seems perfectly content to clean and clean, doing so with a song in her heart and smile on her face.

Okay. So Snow White is established as our pristine, pure young woman with no personality flaws whatsoever. How fascinating. Let’s look at our Evil Queen, who is actually the first character we see in this film, and represents a pretty scary element, especially for kids. I mean, for all that we chide Disney for cleaning things up and sanitizing them for kids, some of the films are scary as shit, and the Evil Queen pretty well set the tone for the villains that came after. Walt kind of had the same dichotic view of women that Perrault did at this point: you were either good and pure, or you were wicked and vain. (Note that these are, in fact, the only two women in the entire movie.) He would later add “comical and bumbling” to the list of female traits, but for now, it’s just these two.

So after establishing that the Evil Queen’s magic mirror has proclaimed that Snow White, not the Queen, is the “fairest in the land,” we have our first musical number with Snow White singing about her fondest wish is finding a man to marry. Again, how fascinating. The Prince in question happens to be riding by at the time, hears her song, climbs over the palace wall, and joins her in singing in a not-at-all creepy way, no really. Regardless, Snow White swoons at his manly, manly voice, and we have our love-at-first-sight moment.

So, now, the plot gets moving again, as the Evil Queen sends out the huntsman to kill Snow White and bring her heart back in a box. Charming. The huntsman, seeing how sweet Snow White is (and, let’s be honest, as bland as her personality is, she’s incredibly likable), can’t kill her, and tells her to run away and never return. Snow White does so, and is so frightened by the shadows of the unfamiliar woods that she falls into a heap and cries. (Incidentally, the scene in the woods contains some seriously excellent bits of animation.) She awakens to find that, lo and behold, the shadows weren’t unfriendly at all! They were cute little bunnies and deer and birds who want to be her friends! Oh, happy day!

So the animal friends make sure the plot moves forward a bit by taking Snow White to abandoned and very messy house where she can clean. And thus, we have our second musical number, “Whistle While You Work,” and a little feature of Snow White and her animal friends cleaning the house. Notice that throughout this sequence, we see very little of Snow White herself. We hear her voice, of course, but the focus is mostly on what the animals are doing because, let’s face it, animals scrubbing, sweeping, and dusting are vastly more entertaining than a human being scrubbing, sweeping, and dusting.

It’s worth pointing out here that Snow White does have a pretty consistent personality trait. She’s very motherly, both in her desire to take care of others and her desire to make sure everything is clean. Say what you will about the implications regarding purity and domestication and all that, but it gives her something to care about, something to drive her character forward, unlike a certain princess who would come a couple decades later. *coughAuroracough*

Cut now to the real stars of the picture, the dwarves. Yes, the dwarves. I mean, really without the dwarves, people wouldn’t remember this picture. Snow White’s nice and all, but she’s just not a dynamic enough character to truly be memorable. So right about at the time when kids would have started getting bored with Snow White’s warbling and the cute antics of her animal friends, we’re introduced to the characters who make us laugh. Not only that, but we see with their opening song that these are the laborers, the ones who work hard in a mine, all day, every day. Consider that this movie, then, was made during the Great Depression, and we’re given a bunch of characters that the average moviegoer can relate to. It lifts up the common worker in a really great way, because the dwarves are the ultimate heroes of the story, not the handsome prince. Yes, the prince kisses Snow White awake, but it’s the dwarves who rush to the rescue and drive the Evil Queen off a cliff.

So the dwarves, like Snow White, sing as they work, and eventually march home to the familiar “Hi-Ho.” They arrive home to find that someone has broken in to their home, and after some comic antics, they find that it’s Snow White, the princess, who they of course have an immediate protective devotion to. (Except Grumpy, of course.) Snow White, because of her desire to take care of her new friends, offers to cook them a hot meal for once, but informs them--quite sternly, actually--that they’ll not get a “bite to eat” until they wash up . . . which they do in a particularly amusing musical scene, where they approach the water and soap as though they are things they’ve never seen before. Doc teaches them how to wash up, and then as a group, they force Grumpy, the only one who flat out refused to wash up, into the tub where they wash him as well.

This scene, it should be pointed out, is terribly amusing and does nothing to forward the plot. More on that in a moment.

So, we return to the Queen and the Hunter. The Queen now has the heart in a box, but discovers that it is not, in fact, Snow White’s heart, but the heart of a pig when the mirror tattles. So, she decides it’s time to take matters into her own hands and ventures down into her secret dungeon laboratory (yes, she has a secret dungeon laboratory) and mixes a potion that will effectively disguise her as an ugly old hag. (And lest the irony is lost on you, yes, she turns herself ugly so she can be considered pretty.) The scene of her mixing the potion with all sorts of evil magical brouhaha is probably one of my favorite bits of Disney animation. Anyone who thinks that Disney is all about feel good stories and light entertainment should take a look at this early scene. You see a person essentially using very dark magic, and the animation is put to good use here, as the scene is creepy as hell. I don’t think people really associated animation with this sort of darkness.

But back to the dwarves, who are spending the evening with a delightful musical romp in “The Dwarves’ Yodel Song,” or “The Silly Song.” The song has few words, no story, and really no point. It’s just the dwarves singing and dancing and generally goofing off as Snow White watches. It does nothing to move the plot forward and, in fact, brings the plot to a screeching halt. And yet, this is my absolute favorite song and scene in the movie. This song is just such fun, as we watch the dwarves doing what really makes them happy. Again, there’s that reliability with common workers, because the dwarves are basically just unwinding at the end of a long day of work. And there’s a great contrast between the life Snow White has with the dwarves and the life she had at the palace.

So, you might be noticing a pattern at this point in the story. Watch the “Whistle While You Work” scene. And now watch the washing up scene. And now the “Silly Song.” They don’t contribute much to the forwarding of the plot, they’re mostly entertainment based, and they could stand on their own, apart from the movie, and still be entertaining and complete. In other words, they’re a lot like the sort of animated shorts Walt Disney was known for up until this time. This is how Walt was able to tread that line between what animation was known for and what Disney was trying to do. In general, the good guys want the simplicities of life. Good work, food, a family, some music and dance, a loved one. Just a very simple life. The Evil Queen, on the other hand, is not content. she wants more than what she already has, and what she has is considerable seeing as how she’s, you know . . . the Queen. So she moves the plot forward so as to forward her own ambitions.

Once the dwarves have had their fun, they encourage Snow White to entertain them with a song, which she does, singing the iconic “Someday My Prince Will Come.” And yeah, I’m not wild about this as a general message for the movie, but again, it was a very different time. What Snow White gives us more than anything is hope. Her life, at the moment, is not in the best circumstances, and yet here she is, with continued hope that one day, she’ll be happy, with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. During the Great Depression when this movie was released, this was especially important to the people watching, who needed a bit of hope in their lives. The Prince isn’t just a romantic inclination, it’s a way out of a bad situation. The Prince in Cinderella is similar, which is why neither of them has much in the way of personalities. They’re ideals, rather than characters.

Next morning, the dwarves are off to work, leaving Snow White to take care of the house and make dinner for their return. And who should arrive, but the Evil Witch with a poisoned apple, which she convinces the gullible Snow White to take a bite of. The animal friends ride off to get the dwarves, and the dwarves--without a moment’s hesitation, which is more than can be said for them going to check on an intruder in their home OR wash up for dinner--ride to her rescue. Snow White’s already (allegedly) dead, but the dwarves chase the Queen off a cliff and then a rock falls on her. (Notice, they don’t actually do the killing, because they’re the good guys.) But Snow White is dead, the dwarves mourn her in one of the most heartbreaking scenes in all animation, I mean SERIOUSLY! They put her in a glass coffin so people can look at her (vaguely creepy, but okay), the prince comes along, kisses her awake, they live happily ever after, etc. All this in about the span of five minutes.

Snow White was, in many ways, the movie that a lot of people needed at that time. It was a combination of an entertaining series of animated shorts and a story of good overcoming evil and hope overcoming a rotten situation. What we expect of a story today has changed. Filler material, however entertaining, is deemed unnecessary, we prefer characters to be more than absolutely good or absolutely evil, and plots need to be realistic and complex. And lest you worry, this isn’t a “movies aren’t the way they used to be and therefore they suck” post. I generally enjoy movies with the qualities listed above. But such a movie would not have played well in the thirties, and certainly not from a new animation studio trying to do a full length feature for the first time. Walt Disney knew how to balance pushing the envelope with what people wanted, and he did it very well. Add to that the entertaining music and the incredible animation, and it’s easy to see why this movie was and is so popular.

When it comes right down to it, though this is technically an adaptation of Snow White, the movie’s popularity has very little to do with the original story. Disney could have picked any other story and given it a similar treatment and it would have become just as popular. Snow White is a great example of evolution of storytelling, of how a classic (if mediocre) story can be made relevant to a brand new audience. That’s what Disney did.

Guest Post: Tangled with Matthew

Hey all. Cassie here. Personal stuff is still going on -- my grandpa passed away, and his funeral is tomorrow, and today was full of prep for that and time spent with family. I appreciate your patience while things are a bit off kilter. I've finished Zel, but the review isn't quite done, but because you deserve something on a Friday, here's a guest post from Matthew!

 

Disney’s Tangled

or “How Disney Should Have Done Sleeping Beauty”

 

The sad fact of the matter is that faerie tales don’t always make sense. As Cassie has pointed many times in her “<insert faerie tale here> according to Cassie” segments, things are often confusing, characters are often under- or undeveloped, and questions often go answered. That’s why the distinction between a “retelling” of a faerie tale and an “adaptation” of a faerie tale is so important. Retellings usually just tell the faerie tale again, maybe with a historical backdrop or a twist on a character, but pretty much the straight up faerie tale. Adaptations, on the other hand, seek to tell the classic faerie tale story in the context of another story in order to make sense of it.

 

Six of the seven faerie tale Disney movies are retellings. Love them or hate them, most of Disney’s faerie tale movies do stick pretty closely to the stories they’re telling. They make changes and so on, but Disney’s Cinderella is still telling the classic story of Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast is telling Beauty and the Beast, and The Little Mermaid--albeit with a different ending--is telling The Little Mermaid.

 

Tangled, on the other hand, is an adaptation of the Rapunzel story. It is not, strictly speaking, Rapunzel. It’s telling a different story, and the elements of that story makes sense of many of the aspects of the original story that don’t quite stand up to scrutiny, though in all fairness, Rapunzel doesn’t have nearly as many issues as some of the other faerie tales in this series.

 

So exactly what story is Tangled trying to tell? Let’s take a look, shall we?

 

The story opens with the love interest, Flynn Rider, saying this is the story of how he died. (Insert End-of-Doctor-Who-Series-2 joke here. [Um . . . This is the story of how I died . . . starts Rose at the beginning of the Season 2 finale, which is just what Flynn says here . . . not a very funny joke, Matthew. -- CG]) He then introduces us both to our main villain and what will become our central plot device: the flower that, when sung to, will heal any injury or illness and restore youth to whoever it touches. The evil villain, Gothel, uses this flower to stay eternally young.

 

Okay, so she hasn’t really done anything evil, yet. I mean, she knows about this thing and doesn’t share it, and that’s pretty selfish, but not, strictly speaking, evil. But as a rule, anyone seeking to live forever is not usually a good guy. So fast forward several generations, and the Queen is giving birth. But the Queen is very ill and in danger of dying and losing the baby, so the King, having heard about this magical healing flower, sends his various guards to search for the flower. They find it, cut it, and use it to heal the queen. But because it was cut, it loses its healing power . . . or rather, the power transfers to something else. (Remember this. It will become important later.) That something is the newborn baby’s golden hair.

 

(It should probably be noted at this point that the newborn’s name as Rapunzel. I mean, obviously, you know this, but really think about it for a minute. In the original story, Rapunzel is named for the leaf that her mother craved so much that her father stole it from Gothel’s garden, thus precipitating the story. However, this particular backstory doesn’t exist in the movie, so . . . why on earth would they name her Rapunzel? It’s never explained, just as it’s never explained why “Cinderella” is named “Cinderella.”)

 

Anyway, Gothel realizes that the powers have been transferred to Rapunzel’s hair, and plans to take a clipping of said hair to use for her continued youthening sessions. This, however, doesn’t work, as the hair loses its power and turns brown the moment it’s cut away from Rapunzel. If Gothel wants to continue to use the healing power of Rapunzel’s hair, she’s going to have to take Rapunzel. Which she does.

 

The kingdom searches for the lost princess, but Gothel has hidden her away in a secluded tower. So every year, on her birthday, the kingdom launches hundreds and hundreds of floating lanterns into the sky, in the hopes that Rapunzel will see them and return home.

 

So, at this point in the story, a number of things are different, but a number of things have also been explained. First of all, Rapunzel’s parents aren’t the horrible people they are in the original story, because the father doesn’t make any kind of deal with Gothel about trading away his firstborn and whatnot. Second, we find out why Gothel wants to keep Rapunzel for herself and why she wants to keep her locked up. And third, we learn more about the magical nature of Rapunzel’s hair. Specifically, we get an answer to the question of why Rapunzel didn’t simply cut off her hair and use it to climb down from the tower. Her hair has magic, and she doesn’t want to lose that. [Also, it probably never occurred to her, since she didn't think of running away until Mother Gothel pushed her too far. --CG]

 

So, fast forward roughly eighteen years. Rapunzel, as the king and queen hoped, has in fact seen the floating lanterns every year on her birthday. She wants to learn their significance, and of course, Mother Gothel won’t let her out of the tower. But she’s hoping that this year, on her eighteenth birthday, she’ll get her chance.

 

As she sings her opening song, “When Will My Life Begin?”, we see that Rapunzel has grown into a reasonably resourceful young woman, all things considered. She can bake and paint and do all sorts of other domestic things, and she’s developed mad Indiana Jones skills with her uber-long hair. Mother Gothel, of course, visits her each day with the whole “Rapunzel, let down your hair” bit, and we get a nice little glimpse into her character through the song “Mother Knows Best.” And it’s pretty clear that Gothel is pretty much evil. I mean, she acts like the concerned and overly condescending mother, but she pretty much only wants Rapunzel for the healing power her hair offers. This becomes increasingly clearer as the movie progresses, but I thought it was pretty obvious at the beginning.

 

So, Gothel says no, and Rapunzel backs down, accustomed to her ways. Meanwhile, we get a proper introduction to Flynn Rider, a thief who is currently working on a heist with the Stabbington brothers. (Sigh . . . really, Disney?) What are they stealing? The princess’s royal tiara, which is kept under heavy guard in a large room . . . with a circle of guards, who are all facing out from it . . . directly under a skylight. Um . . . who thought this was a good idea? Flynn steals it easily, though he does manage to alert the guards. But this proves not to be a problem, because this kingdom has the worst guards ever.

 

Flynn gives the Stabbington brothers the slip and takes the tiara away to . . . I don’t know, sell and buy himself a completely inconspicuous island, I’m sure. He does not, however, escape the keen nose of Maximus, the bloodhound horse who could probably just act as the entirety of the kingdom’s security, as he’s the only creature who actually knows what the flying flip he’s doing. (Also, he kicks ass. Like, a lot. Seriously.) After an amusing enough chase scene, Flynn manages to escape the horse through a curtain of vines, which coincidentally is also the hiding place for Rapunzel’s tower. He decides it’ll make a decent enough hiding place, climbs the tower wall through the power of sheer awesomeness, I guess, and arrives inside . . . only to be knocked unconscious by Rapunzel’s weapon of choice: a frying pan.

 

So Flynn, then, is a vastly different character from his book counterpart, and also from the typical love interests in Disney movies. He’s not a prince, he's a thief, and he doesn’t have a whole lot of good qualities in the beginning. He’s a liar and, as mentioned, a thief. Sure, he’s handsome and charming, but he mostly uses these assets to lie and steal. He finds Rapunzel, not because he’s intrigued by her beautiful voice and odd living situation, but because he needed to hide from the cops. And, therefore, he’s already considerably more interesting.

 

Rapunzel, painstakingly hiding both the tiara and the unconscious Flynn, decides that she can use the situation to convince her mother that she should be allowed to leave the tower and go see the floating lanterns. But before she even has a chance to broach this, Gothel loses her cool and proclaims that she’ll never let Rapunzel leave the tower, thus showing her true colors. Rapunzel, then, does some pretty quick thinking and convinces her mother to go away on a three day trip to get her a certain special kind of paint. Once she’s left, Rapunzel ties Flynn up, and uses the tiara as leverage against him, so that he’ll take her to the castle to see the floating lanterns, and maybe solve the mystery of her birthday. Flynn, rather begrudgingly, agrees to this arrangement, and Rapunzel leaves the tower.

 

It’s worth noting that this is something she could have done at any time. She has, as I said earlier, mad Indiana Jones skills with her hair, and here uses them to leave, not having to mess with this business of gathering silk for a rope and whatnot. Why she chose not to is anyone’s guess, but I have my own theories. Life was not entirely unpleasant with Mother Gothel, though thoroughly stifling. Gothel has had to cater to Rapunzel’s whims--aside from the whim of leaving the tower--because she needs Rapunzel’s happy and relatively content cooperation for the magic to work. And Rapunzel sees Gothel as a mother, though an overprotective one, and has found that in general, being nice and keeping her mother happy gets her what she wants. She could have escaped, but why do so if she had faith that enough sweetness would eventually have her mother capitulate to her request? It’s only when she realizes that Gothel is, truly, never going to let her out of the tower, that she escapes on her own. Her decision to do so is almost immediate, indicating that she always had this weapon in her arsenal, but chose only to use it as a last resort. In all likelihood, she would have escaped even without Flynn there, but decided that the wiser course of action would be to have a guide in a world with which she was entirely unfamiliar. And she’s very shrewd in her “negotiation” with Flynn. Like I said, for someone who’s been locked in a tower all her life, she’s very resourceful and very capable.

 

So, Rapunzel leaves the tower, setting bare, pigeon-toed feet on the ground for the very first time. The next sequence of scenes shows Rapunzel oscillating between the sheer ecstasy and joy of being outside her tower for the first time and the guilt she feels at having betrayed Gothel, who she still views as a mother figure, remember. After straightening up, she and Flynn sally forth. Meanwhile, Maximus is still sniffing around for Flynn, and eventually, he comes across Gothel who, somehow, draws the conclusion in seeing the horse without his rider that Rapunzel might be in trouble. How she comes to this conclusion, I’m not sure. I guess she’s concerned that the kingdom might find the tower, but that seems like a pretty big leap. Still, Gothel is paranoid about losing her magical hair healing factory, and isn’t about to take chances, so she starts heading back, discovering as she does that Rapunzel has, indeed, escaped. But she finds the tiara, puts two and two together, and decides to team up with the Stabbingtons and use the tiara to get Rapunzel back.

 

So, Flynn takes Rapunzel to the Snuggly Duckling, which is full of thugs, and what follows is probably the silliest and most entertaining scene in the whole movie. Rapunzel charms the thugs with her talk of dreams, and gets the thugs all singing about their own dreams. This, I think, is Disney making fun of itself, going to extreme lengths in showing off the sensitive human side of the thugs, and it’s SO much fun. But the guards come and break things up, and Flynn and Rapunzel are able to escape through a secret trap door. Another chase scene follows, with the two of them being chased by the palace guards, Maximus, and the Stabbingtons. They manage to escape them by basically destroying the world’s most unstable and dangerous dam, but they themselves get trapped in a flooding cave, where it takes Rapunzel an alarmingly long time to remember that her hair glows when she sings, and thus they can have light to find their way out. (Also, Flynn admits his name is Eugene Fitzherbert. Now, granted, the name Eugene does mean “prince,” which is a nice touch, but the Fitzherbert? Ouch.)

 

So they escape, Rapunzel shows Flynn her healing hair, and we see them start to connect, Stockholm Syndrome style. But Gothel finds them and gets Rapunzel alone with her. In her passive-aggressive way, she tries to convince Rapunzel that Flynn won’t stay true to her, and tells her to give him the tiara and see what happens when he no longer needs her.

 

The next day, Rapunzel manages to forge a reluctant alliance between Maximus and Flynn through sheer force of will and likability . . . and it works. You may have noticed that this seems to be Rapunzel’s major non-hair-related power. She can charm anyone, and I mean anyone. Thugs, thieves, bloodthirsty horses . . . anyone. I think this is Disney making fun of itself again. The other Disney princesses, especially the older ones, were absolutely charming. Snow White, Cinderella, and Aurora all managed to befriend animals through sheer charm, Ariel manages to convince most everyone that she’s not completely self-absorbed, and the others are charming in their own ways. Again, Disney takes it to the practically ridiculous extreme with Rapunzel. And, not only is it amusing, but we can’t help but like Rapunzel that much more for it.

 

They enter the kingdom, and Rapunzel takes it all in and does the whole charm thing on a number of other people before she and Flynn take a boat out to the middle of the lake to watch the lanterns. Why the guards don’t notice ostensibly the most notorious criminal walking through the village can be explained in three simple words. Worst. Guards. Ever.

 

Now, what follows is one of the most beautiful sequences in Disney history. The king and queen--who, by the way, never speak during the whole movie, which I think is really cool--release their annual lantern, which is followed by the whole kingdom releasing their lanterns, while Rapunzel looks on in awe. And it’s little wonder why. The scene is absolutely breathtaking. The rest of the animation is just so-so. It’s computer animated, but not terribly detailed, and generally geared more for comedy than detailed accuracy. They’re drawing more inspiration from the Pixar or Dreamworks style of animation rather than any of their past work. This sequence, though, is gorgeous.

 

During all this, Rapunzel returns the tiara to Flynn, and Flynn, as expected, has had a change of heart. So, seeing the Stabbingtons, he decides to simply give them the tiara and beat a hasty retreat back to his lady love. But it doesn’t quite work out that way, as the Stabbingtons appear and show Rapunzel a very still and shadowy Flynn Rider sailing away from her, before attempting to kidnap her for her hair. But Gothel “rescues” her, and Rapunzel, traumatized, goes back to the tower with her. Flynn, meanwhile, is revealed to be unconscious and bound. (No, really?) He sails right into the hands of the palace guards, who arrest him and have him sentenced to death.

 

Rapunzel, back in her tower, is understandably distraught, but upon reflection of her experiences and her apparently sub-consciously inspired paintings--and by “reflection” I mean “bludgeoning over the head with the point, yes, thank you, we’ve got it, Disney”--realizes that she is the lost princess for whom the lanterns are being released. She finally stands up to Gothel and attempts to escape . . . which results in her being tied up, but we’ll be back here in a moment.

 

First, we have to see Flynn’s rescue by Flynn and the Snuggly Duckling thugs, who manage to outwit the palace guards . . . not hard, seeing as how they’re the WORST. GUARDS. EVER. . . . and get Flynn to Rapunzel’s tower . . . where he is promptly stabbed by Gothel. Rapunzel offers up her own freedom so that she can save Flynn’s life. (Ariel, are you paying attention? THIS is sacrifice.) Gothel agrees, and Rapunzel prepares to save Flynn . . . only Flynn won’t allow it. He won’t have Rapunzel be captive, so he cuts off all her hair, knowing it’s the only thing keeping Gothel alive. (Also a major sacrifice, as he will die without it. Seriously, Ariel, I hope you’re taking notes.) Gothel rapidly ages, falls out of the tower, and turns to dust.

 

(Oh, and Pascal, Rapunzel’s chameleon, makes his only contribution to the plot by tripping Gothel and causing her to fall out the window. Which, even then, is an ultimately futile gesture, given that A) the way she was flailing around, she probably would have fallen out all on her own, and B) she’s about to turn to dust, and the fall is basically just for dramatics. So his contribution is really no contribution at all. You may have even noticed that I hadn’t mentioned the chameleon up to this point, and that’s because he is an utterly useless character and a complete waste of animation. They included him, I think, because every Disney princess is contractually obligated to have an animal friend, regardless of whether or not they need one.)

 

Anyway, Gothel’s dead, but Flynn is dying from his stab wound, and Rapunzel no longer has her healing hair to save him. Now, anyone who has read the original story might be able to piece together what happens next. (Cassie was, much to the irritation of her friends.) Rapunzel begins to cry, and sings to him as he dies. Then, her tears begin to glow, and Flynn awakens, his wound completely healed. The power, which originally transferred from the flower to her hair, has now transferred to her tears, thus explaining why, in the original story, Rapunzel’s tears were able to restore the prince’s blindness.

 

And Rapunzel, now a pixie-haired brunette, is reunited with her parents, married to Flynn, and everyone lives happily ever after.

 

This is by no means a perfect adaptation of the story, but it is a strong one. It’s pretty clear that Disney wasn’t taking this one nearly as seriously, instead just trying to make a light-hearted, fun movie, and in that, they succeeded. Rapunzel is charming and likable, but also quite competent for a Disney princess. Flynn has the major character growth, having to become the prince that we like to see our Disney princesses end up with. And I like that, in the end, it’s not a matter of one rescuing the other . . . they rescue each other. Flynn saves Rapunzel from a lifetime of captivity under Gothel, and Rapunzel saves Flynn from . . . well, death. The backstory is exceptionally intriguing, the characters are fun, and it’s a nice, feel-good story.

 

But on to the checklist.

 

Explanation for the parents’ behavior? Check. The mother didn’t henpeck her husband into getting what she wanted, and the husband didn’t trade away his daughter for his life. Rapunzel was kidnapped, thus eliminating the problem.

 

Exploration of Rapunzel’s childhood with Mother Gothel? Erm, no. Not really. It pretty much skips straight to her eighteenth birthday, and we don’t get a lot of depth in the little bit that we do see. Gothel is probably my major disappointment with the Disney film. I was really hoping that this time, they might have antagonist with some depth who WASN’T just pure evil. Now, granted, Gothel is a considerably more subtle evil than a lot of her predecessors, playing the part of the concerned mother and generally using passive-aggressive guilt trips to get what she wants. But I like to think that the mother in the Rapunzel story did actually care for Rapunzel a bit, and was just really overprotective and probably a little selfish and wanted to keep Rapunzel for herself, not for any reasons of needing healing, but because she honestly loved her. But Disney went the “she’s just evil” route with this character, as I unfortunately predicted they would. So, no check.

 

Explain the unexplained elements? Yes, indeed-y! This is what I really like about this movie. Why did Gothel want Rapunzel? Magical healing hair. Why was her hair special? See previous answer with added explanation of magical healing flower. Why was she locked in a tower? To hide her from the kingdom, who was searching for the lost princess. Why did her tears heal the prince? They were magical healing tears, using the power of the magical healing hair, which in turn took it from the magical healing flower. Simple, yes? (Also, the question of Rapunzel’s pregnancy is a non-issue, as Rapunzel doesn’t get pregnant.)

 

Wrap up the loose ends? Yeah, if there’s one thing Disney knows how to do, it’s wrap up loose ends. Gothel dies, we see a reunion with the parents, and in general, the characters who drop off the face of the earth in the original story find some sort of closure in the movie.

 

All in all, not one of Disney’s finest by a long way, but still a good movie and a good adaptation of the Rapunzel story. And honestly, I really do think that this is how Disney should have handled the Sleeping Beauty story, and on some level, I think they knew that. (I really don’t think it’s an accident that the king and queen look an awful lot like the king and queen from Sleeping Beauty, or that Rapunzel is the first blonde Disney princess since Aurora.) It’s what they tried to do--dig into the background and try to tell a new story--but they didn’t take it far enough and it didn’t succeed nearly as well. (Also, Aurora and Philip were about as boring as Disney characters get, while Rapunzel and Flynn? Decidedly not.)

 

 At any rate, don’t expect it to take itself too seriously, but the movie is definitely worth checking out.

Guest Post: Disney's The Little Mermaid by Matthew

Disneyʼs The Little Mermaid

or “Why Sometimes, Disney Should Just Leave Well Enough Alone”

After writing a whole review about how itʼs okay for Disney to make changes to stories like Beauty and the Beast because theyʼre part of the evolution of oral storytelling, Iʼm not about to lambast Disney for the work they did on Hans Christian Andersonʼs The Little Mermaid. I should probably mention, first of all, that though I dislike this movie, I donʼt have quite the same hatred for it that Cassie does. I still hate it, donʼt get me wrong . . . itʼs just that Iʼve already said my piece pretty thoroughly in my Books vs. Movies review on the subject, and to be honest, this movie does have a lot to offer, and I think it had a lot of potential. Squandered potential, but potential nonetheless.

The issue here is that The Little Mermaid, unlike Disneyʼs other faerie tale stories, is not based on an traditional faerie tale. Stories like Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Rapunzel, and so on have many, many variations to them, because theyʼre based in oral traditions, and the story changes a little bit from each telling. The Russian Cinderella story is very different from the French one. With The Little Mermaid, however, this is not the case. Hans Christian Anderson didnʼt collect the story--he wrote it. Itʼs an original story and, therefore, deserves the same respect that any book should have when itʼs being turned into a movie. That is, if youʼre going to make changes--which, of course, you almost have to with this story--do so for the betterment of the story, not to dumb things down for a “lesser” audience. On its own, Disneyʼs The Little Mermaid isnʼt a bad movie, by any means. As an adaptation of Andersonʼs story, however . . . well,
letʼs start from the beginning.

Now, in the opening credits of the movie, we do get to see one of the biggest things that this movie has going for it: the animation. You can really see how this was a turning point for Disney animation, because it is absolutely breathtaking. Everything truly does look as though itʼs underwater. It even looks amazing over twenty years later. Honestly, Iʼd be just as happy watching the images on the screen with the sound on mute . . . but weʼre not going to do that here, so on with the story.

Weʼre introduced to our underwater kingdom, where King Triton reigns, half-man and half-sea creature, with a retinue of sea creatures at his beck and call, including Sebastian, the uptight crab who will serve as Arielʼs comedic and completely ineffectual secondary guardian. (Also known as Animal Friend #1.) Sebastian is directing a huge musical concert for King Triton featuring his many mermaid daughter, who each introduce themselves in this scene, but as weʼll see them maybe twice more during the course of the movie, itʼs not terribly important. A tremendous build-up of music signals the introduction of the youngest and most beautiful daughter Ariel . . . who of course, isnʼt there.

Okay, this is a small, nitpicky point, but I have to address it. Sebastian is directing this little escapade, and anyone who has ever directed anything knows that once you get to performance, youʼve done all the rehearsing and critiquing you can do, and your main task is very simple . . . MAKE SURE EVERYONE IS THERE!!! How, exactly, did it escape Sebastianʼs notice that the star singer of the evening wasnʼt even there? You had one job, Sebastian! One job! And you blew it! I mean, okay, Ariel is irresponsible and flighty and all that but COME ON! (Itʼs also indicated that this isnʼt the first time something like this has happened, so in addition to failing as a director, the little crustacean doesnʼt even learn from past mistakes.) [Word. -- CG]

But, back to the story. Weʼre then introduced to our main protagonist, Ariel, the little mermaid herself. And itʼs pretty clear from the get-go that Disney was aiming to make her a pretty sharp contrast from the previous three princesses. With bright red hair and practically naked, Ariel was by far the sexiest princess Disney had created at that point, but the differences werenʼt merely physical. Ariel was clearly more outgoing, more rebellious, and more argumentative than Snow White, Cinderella, or Aurora. Itʼs like if that little bit of snarkiness and sarcasm we got from Cinderella on occasion was fully realized. Sheʼs also, to put it quite simply, a brat.

So, Ariel and her best friend, Flounder, who is a . . . flounder (Animal Friend #2, and also, what, did they just run out of creative names at this point?), are exploring this sunken ship. The friendship between them is a fairly typical case of one friend being aggressive and vaguely reckless, and the other having misgivings but going along with it anyway because of some sort of loyalty to the first friend. Despite feeling ill-at-ease, Flounder is basically bullied by Ariel into going on what is basically a scavenger mission. Ariel collects trinkets from the human world, hiding them away in secret because her father, King Triton, has a pretty big prejudice against the human world, and has forbade his kingdom--and his youngest daughter specifically--from having any contact with them.

This is a difference from the original story, but an interesting one. Unlike the original story where it was basically traditional for mermaids to visit the human world--playing off of the old siren legends--here, itʼs absolutely forbidden, and Triton is particularly passionate about it, to the point where you start to wonder what humans did to him. The question is never answered, but it does make Triton into a very interesting character.

But, back to the story. Arielʼs obsession with collecting human trinkets almost gets herself and Flounder killed by a hungry shark, but they manage to escape it, with the trinkets in hand, and swim to the surface to consult with a seagull named Scuttle (Animal Friend #3) who seems to have surpassing wisdom and knowledge of the humans, though heʼs voiced by Buddy Hackett, so we know that only goes so far. So after giving Ariel some hilariously incorrect information about what her trinkets are used for, Ariel suddenly remembers the concert that she was supposed to star in (honey, youʼre the freaking star performer, how do you just forget?) and hurries back home.

Triton and Sebastian both chew her out, and understandably so, and yet Ariel tries her darndest to make them out to be the bad guys here, because by golly, sheʼs sixteen years old and shouldnʼt be treated like a child! What this has to do with her being irresponsible and missing the concert, I donʼt know, but sheʼs sixteen and thatʼs what bratty sixteen year old girls do. She swims off in a huff, because thatʼs also what bratty sixteen year old girls do, and Triton sends Sebastian off to keep on eye on her.

The next scene is the famous “Part of Your World” song, which I will admit is a gorgeous piece of music, and does actually give Ariel some motivation other than a hot guy, at least at this point in the story. We see here that Arielʼs love of the human world isnʼt just a passing interest, but pretty much an outright obsession, with a hidden grotto filled with human trinkets from past scavenges. And this, again, is a point of interest in the story. Where does this obsession stem from, especially given how anti-human her father is? How did she come to start collecting these things? How does she even know about the human world?

So then, Ariel sees fireworks in the distant sky and swims up to investigate. It turns out that they are celebration fireworks for the birthday of Prince Eric, who is by far Disneyʼs most interesting prince to date. Snow Whiteʼs and Cinderellaʼs princesses didnʼt even have names aside from “Charming,” and Prince Philip from Sleeping Beauty was about as bland as white bread. Eric, on the other hand, actually has something of a personality. Heʼs interesting, a very likable guy, and actually has something of a story arc in this movie. Itʼs a fairly typical “Iʼm looking for the perfect girl” story, only in this case, when he finally encounters Ariel, he doesnʼt immediately think “This is it!” And his story arc is more about not chasing a dream and seeing whatʼs right in front of him.

But Iʼm getting ahead of myself. At this point, Eric is just a nice guy with a dog and a winning personality. Ariel sees him, becomes hopelessly infatuated, and then all hell breaks loose. There a storm, the ship sinks, and itʼs worth noting that the reason Eric gets himself in trouble in the first place is because he went back to save his dog. Seriously, you gotta love him for that. But as per the original story, he almost drowns and Ariel saves him, with the help of her three animal friends. Eric wakes up long enough to hear her singing and to get a brief look at her face, but she heads back to the ocean before anyone else can see her.

And now, Ariel and Eric are both obsessed. Ariel swims around with her head in the clouds--a pretty neat trick, when you think about it--which makes Triton suspect that there may be a man in her life, but he figures itʼs a merman, and is overjoyed that his daughter might finally be seeing some sense. Eric, meanwhile, has sworn not to marry anyone but the girl with the beautiful voice who saved his life. And while Ericʼs bumbling advisor person tries to help him see sense, Sebastian is doing the same with Ariel, extolling the values of being a sea creature in, of course, “Under the Sea.”

But during Sebastianʼs elaborate--and apparently completely improvised--musical number, Flounder and Ariel have sneaked off to the grotto. Sebastian is called off to meet with King Triton regarding this mysterious male someone that Ariel is obsessed with, and Sebastian confesses that Ariel is in love with a human, which sends Triton into a mighty rage. He finds Ariel in her grotto, and in what can only described as a godly passion, destroys everything, including the statue of Eric that has only recently fallen inside. He regrets his anger, but too late to keep his daughter from collapsing into despair . . . and to keep her from going to Ursula the Sea Witch for a magical solution.

Ursula has been established as a character by this time. We know that Triton has done something to her and sheʼs out for revenge. (Yet ANOTHER interesting aspect of the story that will get no further explanation.) And she figures, correctly, that the best way to get revenge on Triton is through his favorite daughter. Exploiting her obsession is, as Ursula says at one point, “too easy.”

Once again, things go pretty much the same way as the original story, but the terms of the deal are slightly different. Ariel loses her voice, but not permanently. Ursula doesnʼt cut out her tongue, rather she takes her voice magically and locks it away. Also, Ariel has a time limit. She has three days and three days only to make Eric fall in love with her, but in terms of Disney movies, thatʼs quite a lot of time. (I mean, it took the other princes all of two seconds to fall in love with their ladies.) And if she fails to do so, she doesnʼt die, but turns back into a mermaid and belongs to Ursula. So, sheʼs basically selling her soul here, but sheʼs dumb enough to go along with it. Now, Ursula is about as up front with her about the risks as the book Sea Witch, the main difference being that this Ursula actually attempts to sabotage the deal . . . but more on that later. [Also, Ursula's version of being "up front" is more along the lines of manipulating Ariel into agreeing rather than trying to be an actual voice of reason. -- CG]

Ariel becomes a human, and Flounder and Sebastian help her to shore, where she attempts to learn how to stand and walk and so on. Not only does she not seem to feel any pain when she does so, but it really doesnʼt take her that long. Sooner or later, Ericʼs dog finds her, which leads to Eric finding her. He suspects that she might be the girl who saved him, but upon finding that she canʼt speak, decides it must not be . . . which is probably about the dumbest conclusion you could possibly come to. I mean, itʼs been a little bit of time. Maybe she lost her voice in the intervening days since your near drowning. Maybe she had an accident herself! I mean, dude, you were all set to marry her right there until you found out she couldnʼt talk. Cʼmon, what did you think, that you just happened to find someone who looks EXACTLY LIKE the girl who saved you? Sigh.

Okay, so the next section of the story can basically be summed up with “hilarity ensues.” Ariel, having listened to Buddy Hackett as a seagull, has absolutely no idea how to be a human, which leads to actually some of the funnier moments of the film. Also, Sebastian almost gets cooked by a crustacean-hating cook, which is one of Disneyʼs more hilarious moments in cinema history. And through a montage of scenes, we see Ariel and Eric getting to know each other and getting closer and closer as they do, and I will admit that itʼs nice to see Disney actually doing this for a change. Itʼs not a lot of time, to be sure, but they still show a building relationship rather than an instant one. And toward the end of it, we do see Eric finally make the decision to drop this obsession with a dream and take the perfectly nice, adorable girl that heʼs found and formed a close friendship with. Eric actually learns a good lesson here.

So basically, up to this point in the story, I have absolutely NO PROBLEM with this movie. I really donʼt. It looks good, the music is great. The main character is a brat and vaguely stupid, but still likable and engaging, and sheʼs sixteen, so we can forgive the negative character traits. The love interest is, likewise, interesting and likable and actually has a story arc. And the story itself is engaging and fun.

But hereʼs where it goes downhill for me. Ursula, upon realizing that Ariel is actually succeeding in making Eric fall in love with her--at least enough to get a kiss--decides itʼs time to step up her game. So, using Arielʼs mystical voice, she disguises herself as a human, and makes her way to Ericʼs castle. But it isnʼt just enough for her to “fool” him into thinking that sheʼs the girl who saved him. The voice actually hypnotizes him into believing that he must marry this girl as soon as humanly possible. Now, to give Disney some credit, this is actually closer to the old siren legends, with men being hypnotized by the voices of the sirens. What I do not like, however, is that they have not only demonized the Sea Witch at this point, but also the girl who the prince ended up marrying in the original story. This bugs me a little because one of the things I always wondered about the original story is how did the girl feel about all this? I mean, from all indications, she became friends with the mermaid. The mermaid was happy for them, she held her train and everything. How did it affect her when the mermaid, for all intents and purposes, committed suicide?

But, back to the story. And at this point, everything that might have been interesting about this movie--Tritonʼs story, Ericʼs story, Ursulaʼs story--theyʼre all sacrificed in favor of the “love conquers all” story. Ariel pretty much abandons all hope, not even stopping to question what the hell happened to Eric between last night and this morning, and goes away to have herself a little cry. But, because thatʼs what villains do, Ursula stupidly sings her evil plot to herself while preparing for the wedding in her room, and Scuttle overhears and flies off to tell Ariel. And Ariel, to her credit, does actually act. Itʼs the only point when she does, but she tries to stop the wedding and stop Ursula, and almost succeeds . . . but that blasted sunset comes just a little early, and Ursula drags her back down to the sea.

Triton, acting exactly as Ursula knew he would, sacrifices himself to save Arielʼs life. Which . . . okay, itʼs all very noble and itʼs the one place in this movie where Andersonʼs message of sacrifice exists [despite the fact that it's completely negated by the end of the movie -- CG], but . . . dude, youʼre king of the sea! Youʼve got a whole kingdom to think of here, and youʼre turning it over to this witch! I know you love your daughter and all, but this seems like a “needs of the many, needs of the few” type of deal to me. But I guess itʼs a fatherʼs love for his daughter, and what father wouldnʼt give up the whole sea to keep his daughter safe, so we can forgive it.

So, Arielʼs free and Ursula is now the new queen of the sea, and she decides to exercise her power by . . . growing really big and making a bunch of storms. Yeah, this is where a lot of Disney villains lose me. They gain their power, and then they donʼt do anything with it! But anyway, Eric comes to save the day, and unlike the previous princes, actually does so in a pretty badass way, eventually ramming Ursula through with a ship (most badass slaying of a bad guy EVER!) and as is usually the case with Disney films, everything goes completely back to normal, including King Triton [And, message of the importance of sacrifice negated. --CG].

So, what have we learned here? Very little. Has Ariel changed at all? No. Has she learned not to be so impulsive and stupid from the fact that she endangered the entire kingdom for the sake of a boy? No. Has she learned that her love for the human is unfeasible and unrealistic? No. Is she, at the very least, going to be grounded for the next three hundred years for her actions? No! In fact, Triton, this king who has such a deep prejudice against humans that it caused him to go all godlike and destroy a whole grotto of trinkets, decides to let Ariel have her way and become human so she can be with Eric. Gag me. I mean, I guess she sacrifices her family and home for the sake of love, but itʼs not like sheʼs that broken up about it. What exactly did she sacrifice, then? Where is Andersonʼs message in any of this?

But letʼs look at the checklist:

Exploration of the human characters?--Well . . . technically, yes, given that the human girl isnʼt really human at all in this version. I do have to give Disney props for Prince Eric, though. Heʼs not looked at quite as deeply as some of their later love interests, but he does actually get his own story arc, his own issues to overcome, and more character development than the protagonist. And heʼs just a thoroughly likable and enjoyable character, so weʼll give this a check.

No villainization of the side characters?--Yeah, seeing as how the Disney movie is the whole reason this category even exists, this one gets an anti-check. Ursula is pure evil, Ursula actually becomes the human girl in the story, making her pure evil. Even King Triton is villainized a fair bit in this story. I mean heʼs not a bad guy, but heʼs definitely an antagonist in the context of the story. Heʼs the overbearing father to a sixteen-year-old girl, which pretty much automatically spells villain. So yeah. -1 point for this one. [Ooof. Negative points, folks. A first for the blog. -- CG]

Message at the end? Well, itʼs not drowning of a broken heart, but itʼs not Anderson either. Disney seems to have the same attitude toward this story that a lot of people have toward Romeo and Juliet . . . that just because thereʼs love or romance in it, that makes it a love story. But The Little Mermaid, at itʼs core, is a story about sacrifice, and what did Ariel sacrifice? Nothing. I mean, I guess you could argue that she sacrificed her life in the sea, but she was pretty much ready to get rid of that from the get-go. This isnʼt really supposed to be a “happily ever after” type of story. And I realize that Disneyʼs not going to have their main protagonist die or not get what she wants. Believe me, I understand. But thatʼs the point where you really have to ask . . . if youʼre going to adapt a story for kids . . . why this one?

Iʼm not going to go so far as to say itʼs a bad movie. I can see why people enjoy it. But . . . itʼs not Andersonʼs The Little Mermaid, plain and simple. And honestly, it doesnʼt even replace Andersonʼs message with one of any substance. Maybe if they had taken some of the interesting subplots from earlier in the film and given them a bit more prominence in the end, this could have been a good film with a happy ending and a strong message, even if it wasnʼt Andersonʼs message. As it was, however, they chose the standard, stale “love conquers all” message, without examining the consequences.

Maybe thatʼs enough for you, and if so, fine. But I need a little more from something claiming to be an adaptation of Andersonʼs story.

Guest Post: Disney's Beauty and the Beast

 Disney’s Beauty and the Beast (1989)

or “How I Learned How To Stop Worrying And Love the Disney”


(a guest post by Matt Guion)

In the world of faerie tale research and study (with which I have only a passing relationship) one recurring name is Jack Zipes. Zipes has made a career out of researching faerie tales, studying their history and purpose, writing essays, and putting together anthologies. The man is brilliant when it comes to faerie tales, but he does have one unfortunate blind spot regarding faerie tale adaptations that came out in visual media after the 1920s . . . in other words, right about when Disney broke onto the scene.

See, Zipes is a bit of a fuddy-duddy when it comes to faerie tales. (He could give my book-reviewing persona a run for his money.) He thinks that modern visual adaptations, especially those from Disney, use faerie tales for the trite purpose of promising audiences an easy happily ever after. Okay, fair enough, we have gotten to a point with the stories we tell where we prefer the easy happy ending over one we have to work (and often get hurt) for. And Disney is certainly notorious for those kinds of stories, but not, I think, to the degree Jack Zipes believes they are.

Disney has a pretty consistent formula when it comes to their faerie tale adaptations, so much so that when it was rumored that they would be making a Rapunzel adaptation (which eventually, of course, became Tangled) I made a number of predictions based on the formula, several of which did actually turn out to be right. Why am I telling you this? Well, Cassie has set me the task of reviewing Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, easily the best faerie tale adaptation they’ve done (in my opinion, anyway) and my favorite full length animated feature from Disney. The problem is that most of you have probably seen the movie and know it backwards and forwards, so to do a review in the way Cassie does it would be, in many ways, redundant. So to make this a bit more interesting, I’m going to take you through the formula as I understand it, which goes as follows.

1-Humbling and lifting up the protagonist, making him or (usually) her seem much more broken, but also much more virtuous.

2-Polarization of the antagonist, making him or (again, usually) her much more sinister.

3-Making the love interest more . . . . interesting.

4-Addition or increased importance of side characters.

5-Animal friends.

6-Addition of subplots.

7-Comic relief. Lots of it.

8-Sanitization of the grosser bits.

9-Clearer (or sometimes different) message and morals.

10-An actual context for the story.

Got it? Think I’m over thinking this? Sorry, it’s what I do. Let’s dive in!

So the first thing we get, immediately, is that backstory for the prince that Cassie was looking for. All we know from the original story is that some magical brouhaha transformed him into a hideous beast for no particular reason. Okay . . . But here, there’s a reason. This isn’t just a prince. This is a spoiled, bratty little prick of a prince, who judges people solely on appearances -- pay attention to this “judging solely appearances” thing. It’s kind of important -- and having “no love in his heart.” This is some great exposition from Disney, not just in the story itself, but in the way they do it. The animation shows us a bunch of stained glass pictures of the scenes while the dulcet voice of David Ogden Stiers narrates the backstory. This actually harkens back to the classic Disney faerie tale movies, which started with pictures in a book and a
narrator providing the exposition. Makes us remember that, despite its real life context, this is still a faerie story.

So already, in the first three minutes of the film, we’re given more information on the prince/Beast than we ever got in the original story. (Formula point #3 - added interest) We get some explanations for a few other things as well, namely the importance of the rose, though they aren’t entirely clear until later. The main thing we get here is a mythology. The magic here has rules, and isn’t just arbitrary depending on what the author needs at any particular moment. (Formula point #10 - context for the story) The beast is a beast until he can learn to love and be loved in return, which of course is quite apropos for a prince who has “no love in his heart.” But there’s a time limit. He has until his twenty-first birthday, at which point the enchanted rose the enchantress gave him will have wilted. This, incidentally, strikes me as a little off, just because it kind of assumes that if you can’t learn to love by a certain time in your life, you’ll never learn to love at all. But there has to be some way to create urgency, I suppose, so let’s move on.

We are now introduced to Belle . . . yes, Belle, which is the French word for “Beauty," and it’s worth pointing out that the original story is French, so the original Beauty wasn’t actually named Beauty, but Belle . . . but moving on. This Belle is vastly different from her story counterpart. First off, she’s odd. Or at least, she appears so in the eyes of her “poor provincial town.” Why? Because she’s intelligent and thoughtful and
imaginative and finds great enjoyment in (shock and horror!) reading. (I always love the book shop owner’s reaction to her borrowing her favorite book again. “You’ve read it twice!” Um . . . only twice?) This is a huge step for Disney, as many (if not most) of their previous female protagonists were essentially the ideals for the typical passive woman. Belle’s personality--and the fact that she maintains it throughout the movie and doesn’t change for the sake of “love”--is Disney telling young women that it’s okay to be different, it’s okay to be smart and strong and independent, and it’s okay to read. And the fact that she does get the prince in the end (spoilers) also tells us that these two ideas -- that you can be strong and independent and fall in love and get married -- are not irreconcilable. Belle is not the passive and submissive young lady we see in many faerie tales, but neither is she a super woman. As we’ll learn later in the movie, she is also flawed. I would argue that of all the Disney “princesses,” she is the most like a real person, which is why audiences gravitated toward her, and still do.

We are also, during this opening sequence, introduced to our antagonist. Yes, this movie has an antagonist. The original story really doesn’t, at least not a strong one. The closest it comes is Belle’s spoiled siblings, since they’re the ones who try to keep her from returning to the Beast, but it’s still Belle’s stupidity that causes her to be late. So Disney gave us a solid antagonist where none existed before. (Formula point #2)
What’s great about this particular antagonist, though, is that he’s not immediately obvious as an antagonist, unlike many others from Disney movies. Gaston is obnoxious and arrogant, but he’s also good-looking and vaguely charming. He resembles, in many ways, the handsome princes that usually end up getting the girl at the end of the story. And he wants Belle. Belle, of course, being an intelligent young woman, does not want him. And it’s through Gaston’s desperation to get Belle as his wife that his true antagonistic colors start to emerge. Our first real hint of this is after Belle rejects his marriage proposal, to which he responds “I’ll have Belle as my wife. Make no mistake about that.” That’s actually a pretty frightening moment, following a really comical one.

In the following scene, we meet Belle’s father, Maurice. In this story, it’s just Belle and her dad. No siblings. And no indication that they were ever rich. Rather than being a merchant, her father is an inventor. And like Belle, he is considered odd by the rest of the community, and is something of an outcast. I love the dynamic between these two. It’s clear they’ve always been sort of on the edges of society, and have had to depend
on each other more than anything. (Formula point #1 - humbling of protagonist) We get an even stronger sense of this in the Broadway musical of this movie, which has the two of them singing of how they’ll always love and support one another “No Matter What.” It’s clear that Belle needs her father as much as her father needs her. This makes the moment when Belle takes her father’s place as the Beast’s prisoner that much stronger, because we’ve seen the strong bond between them.

Maurice gets lost on his way to a fair where he was to show off his new invention, and ends up at the castle per the original story. The Beast, however, is not nearly as welcoming as in the original story. In fact, he doesn’t even know Maurice is there at first. Instead, he is taken care of by the household staff. In most versions of the story, the household staff is either gone completely or they exist in some sort of ethereal form, providing service, but invisibly. In the Disney version . . . they’ve been transformed into household objects. Which sounds silly, until you consider what this does for the story. First, despite the fact that we have clocks and teapots walking around and doing people things, the movie never loses sight of the fact that they are actually human, showing us that the Beast didn’t just affect his own life with his selfishness, but everyone around him. It also provides some other characters to interact with aside from Beauty and the Beast, and of course, provides many opportunities for comic relief. (Points 4, 5, 6, and 7 - important side characters, animal friends, subplots, comic relief) But that isn’t their sole purpose, and you find yourself rooting for these characters and feeling bad for them when things go wrong.

It’s these household objects that open the house to Maurice, and when the Beast finds out, he’s supremely pissed and locks Maurice away. He hasn’t changed much. And he doesn’t offer him an ultimatum, either. Where Beast in the original story seems like a good person fighting his animal nature, Beast in this story is a bad person who has pretty much succumbed to his animal nature, which makes his growth that much more dramatic and interesting.

When Belle finds out her father’s missing, she bloody well goes after him and offers herself in his place. But in the same instance where she is making this sacrifice, she is also revealing her biggest flaw. Despite the fact that Belle has spent her whole life being judged and considered an oddball and an outcast, here she is judging the Beast based on his monstrous appearance. I mean, okay, he’s kind of a jerk and doesn’t treat her well, but you can’t tell me there isn’t some prejudice on Belle’s part based on his appearance as well. There’s none of this “love at first sight” crap that we get in a lot of other Disney movies. The Beast has to earn her love, and Belle has to get over her hateful feelings for the Beast.

This all begins to occur when the Beast saves her life. (And don’t start giving me “damsel in distress” crap. She was set upon by wolves. She’s not going to fight them off all by herself, I don’t care how strong a character she is.) And it’s worth pointing out that Belle was at least partly at fault here. She knew the west wing was forbidden (insert obligatory White House joke here [We aren't allowed to give tours of the West Wing until the President has gone up to the residence -- CG]) and yet she went anyway, probably, again, because of that prejudice she felt. It was kind of an act of spite, in a way. Maybe the Beast overreacted, but she was endangering his spell. But anyway, this is where they finally have a reconciliation of sorts, though their relationship still has to develop further. And this is another thing I appreciate about the Disney adaptation: the relationship actually develops, and not just via dinner conversations and awkward proposals, but by actually spending time with each other, getting to know each other, and developing as people. Belle is learning not to judge by appearances, and the Beast is learning how to be with another human being.

Meanwhile, we have Gaston plotting to exploit Maurice’s story about the Beast and having him put into a mental institution in order to get Belle to agree to marry him, which is one of the more diabolical Disney villain plots. When her father falls ill trying to get Belle away from the Beast (sidenote, he actually tries, unlike his book counterpart, who just goes home and weeps into his newfound moneybags) the Beast allows Belle to go home to him. He doesn’t make her promise to eventually return, he just lets her go, even though he knows the spell hasn’t been broken. Though he has learned to love her, Belle does not yet love him in return. He’s sacrificing his own happiness for the sake of hers. Belle reunites with her father and learns of Gaston’s plan. And, when Gaston offers his ultimatum--marry me or watch your father be taken away--Belle takes the third option: proving her father right by showing them the Beast.

And then we get Gaston’s call to kill the beast, featuring some of the best theme-exemplifying lyrics in the movie (“We don’t like what we don’t understand, in fact it scares us.”) Still through all this, Gaston has not emerged as the fire-breathing villain that we see in other stories, but still as an arrogant man who wants to kill off that which he doesn’t understand. And he is not alone in this. This is human nature in action, and Gaston represents an unquestioned allegiance to that prejudice. This also provides us with our reason for Belle not going back. She didn’t just forget, Gaston kept her away. (Though, this is kind of immaterial, as the Beast just let Belle go with no particular obligation to return.)

The rest of the story is pretty standard. Gaston tries to kill the Beast and almost succeeds, but dies in the attempt, mainly because he was so desperate to kill this thing and win Belle as his wife that he climbed out onto a high, steep roof in a rain storm to do so. Yeah, smart move, guy. Anyway, Belle declares her love for him just as the last petal falls, the Beast and the others are transformed, happily ever after, etc.

So Disney adhered pretty closely to its usual formula, but it did so in a much more inventive way. The Disneyfication process is exactly what this story needed.

1- Humbling of the protagonist: Protagonist was never rich and is considered an outcast from society for being smart.

2- Polarizing of the antagonist: Antagonist actually exists, exemplifying prejudiced human nature, which is kind of the theme of this story.

3- Love interest more interesting: Love interest gets a backstory and, actually, more development than the protagonist.

4- Added importance of side characters: Side characters, like Belle’s father and the household staff, are also affected by the events and have their own growth.

5- Animal friends: Not so much “animal friends” as “household item friends,” but close enough.

6- Subplots: Drama of the staff, plus Gaston’s plot to marry Belle serve as subplots.

7- Comic Relief: It’s funny.

8- Sanitation of original: Eh, not much from the original story to clean up, honestly.

9- Moral or message: See Cassie’s checklist, below.

10- Context for the story: Actual mythology and backstory for the plot.

But how does it stack up with Cassie’s checklist?

Stronger protagonist? Check. Belle is strong and intelligent, but also flawed and very human. She has to grow in this story, and does so. She falls in love with the Beast despite appearances, and moreover, does so without sacrificing any of her stronger personality traits. She’s my favorite Disney princess for a reason.

Backstory for the prince? Check. If anything, the Beast actually does MORE developing than the protagonist, and his development is parallel to Belle’s. We know why he was transformed into a Beast, and he easily has the best character arc in the story.

Stronger reason for Belle’s non-return? Check. For one, she technically didn’t have to, and she was never actually told about the time limit. For another, she was trapped by Gaston.

Better building of the relationship? Check, though a qualified one. Don’t get me wrong, the relationship grows between them, but we don’t see much of it. It happens over the course of a musical number. But to be fair, this is something that’s going to be easier to do in a novel and, in the world the movie created, we still get to see how the relationship develops over a period of time. Also, that library? Best freaking gift ever.

Stronger message? Check. This is supposed to be a story about not judging by appearances and seeing with more than your eyes. While the story doesn’t accomplish this terribly well, Disney gets it spot on, not just with Belle and her reaction to the Beast, but with the Beast’s backstory, Gaston’s personality, and just the innate prejudiced human nature that we all have. (Formula point #9 - Better moral or message)

Simply put, there’s a reason why people tend to remember this version of the story and not the original. What Jack Zipes fails to grasp -- aside from the fact that some faerie tales, simply put, just suck -- is that, just as faerie tales have evolved throughout history to suit their audience, Disney adaptations do much the same thing. They don’t always succeed, I’ll grant you -- I’m looking at you, Little Mermaid -- but in the case of Beauty and the Beast, I see nothing wrong with allowing Disney’s version to become the definitive
version of the tale.

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Thanks, Matthew! Look for another guest post later this month!

Also, for more fairy tale fun, go watch this thing that I helped with (and that the author of this post wrote)!

See you Friday!