Tag: Animated Children’s Films

What a Witch: Girlhood, Agency, and Community in ‘Kiki’s Delivery Service’ and ‘The Little Mermaid’

Kiki’s Delivery Service carefully constructs a world where a girl’s agency is expected, accepted and supported, while Disney movies typically present a girl’s agency as unusual, forbidden, and denied. The difference between these two messages is that Kiki’s world anticipates and encourages her independence, while the women of Disney are typically punished for this.

For example, in The Little Mermaid Ariel wants to “live out of these waters,” but her father forbids her exploration of the human world and punishes this dream. Sea witch Ursula exploits Ariel’s desire to discover another world beyond her own as well. This is hardly an isolated incident.

kikis-delivery-service

This guest post by Megan Ryland appears as part of our theme week on Child and Teenage Girl Protagonists.

If you haven’t met Kiki, you really should. She’s a 13-year-old girl who is about to start an adventure in Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989). As a witch, she must spend a year in an unfamiliar city, making her way in the world on her own and developing her skill or special talent. In the film, we meet her on the day she begins her journey and we follow her through her first steps in a new city, the development of her own flying delivery service, making new friends, and a crisis that only Kiki can solve. It’s a lovely story, but there’s something bigger at stake.

My interest is in what this story says about girls and agency as they step into the world. To highlight what’s special about Kiki’s adventure, I’ll be measuring it against The Little Mermaid (1989), released in the same year and also featuring a magical girl leaving home for the first time. Many things about Kiki’s Delivery Service set it apart from the standard fare, but I’m going to focus on the depiction of agency, the role of supportive women characters, and the protagonist’s motivation.

On My Own: Girls Leaving Home

Kiki’s Delivery Service carefully constructs a world where a girl’s agency is expected, accepted and supported, while Disney movies typically present a girl’s agency as unusual, forbidden, and denied. The difference between these two messages is that Kiki’s world anticipates and encourages her independence, while the women of Disney are typically punished for this.

For example, in The Little Mermaid Ariel wants to “live out of these waters,” but her father forbids her exploration of the human world and punishes this dream. Sea witch Ursula exploits Ariel’s desire to discover another world beyond her own as well. This is hardly an isolated incident. In Beauty and the Beast, Belle spends much of the movie trapped in a castle and any travel beyond of the control of the men in her life is punished by wolves, the Beast, Gaston, or townsfolk, depending on the transgression. In Aladdin, Jasmine wants to escape the palace that confines her world, but she is quickly returned – and then spends a not insignificant amount of the story imprisoned. Cinderella‘s world appears to be limited to her household, except for her secret, forbidden trip for a few hours of dancing, for which her stepmother punishes her. I am sensing a trend here.

Kiki begins her adventure with the blessing and support of her family, friends and community. Imagine that. In stark contrast to Disney movies, Kiki’s community gathers together to say goodbye and wish her well. They are excited and worried and happy for her, and this combination of support and concern is important. Kiki doesn’t live in a world of rainbows and sunshine where nothing could go wrong, but that doesn’t mean her parents (neither of whom are mysteriously absent) keep her locked up in a tower or hidden in the woods.

In fact, a neighbour who has come to see Kiki off asks her parents, “Aren’t you worried about Kiki living in a big city all alone?” and this type of concern is familiar to girls, who are often made aware that they are especially vulnerable. However, in this film, another townsperson immediately replies to this worry with an authoritative, “Of course they are, but Kiki will be just fine.” This matters. In this tiny moment, the film sets the rules of Kiki’s world from the start. It’s a world where independent 13-year-old girls can and do exist without punishment. They are not trespassing when they leave home. This is a girl’s world too.

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Compare the father-daughter moments in the films for a little more insight into how a girl’s agency is viewed by her family. Kiki’s Delivery Service immediately establishes a bond between father and daughter, in part by showing their sentimental parting. When he hugs her, he wonders at how fast Kiki has grown up and gives her a squeeze, but he also gives his blessing and encouragement. He believes in her. The story begins with a hug and a father supporting his daughter’s wishes.

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On the other hand, The Little Mermaid ends the movie with a father-daughter embrace, but this one arguably has a whole different set of meanings attached. Although it does indicate giving his blessing, King Triton is giving his daughter away at her wedding, which leaves a rather different impression. Ariel’s father spends most of story trying to force Ariel into the role and place he feels comfortable with, but eventually comes around to the idea of Ariel leaving the sea–to marry Eric. Safe in the arms of her husband, he can finally let Ariel go.

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Other characters follow the same approach to agency as the father in each movie; in Kiki’s Delivery Service, characters explicitly encourage Kiki’s independence, while Ariel’s community is generally (loudly) opposed to her exploration of the human world. These differing perspectives on the acceptability and safety of exploration offer two very different visions of the risks girls face when they leave the nest (or the sea). Kiki’s world falls squarely in the pro-exploration and self-discovery camp. Ariel’s? Not so much.

Women as Friends, Mentors, Advisors, and More

Kiki’s world is also populated with a very different crowd than the average Disney movie. By different, I mean there are women in this movie who all vary in their physicality, personality and treatment of Kiki, making the world it presents surprisingly familiar. There are friends and mothers and business owners and artists and spoiled granddaughters and spunky old women and designers and city girls and scientists and snobs. Kiki interacts with all of these women, alongside a cast of men of many ages, statures and temperaments as well.

In The Little Mermaid, women play a much smaller part. Ariel has a chorus of sisters and encounters a series of women servants, but these women are all largely indistinguishable from one another and exchange few words with Ariel. Ariel is surrounded by men–her father, her chaperone Sebastian, her friends Flounder and Skuttle, her love interest Prince Eric, palace staff like Grimsby and Chef Louis, et al–but Ursula is the only woman Ariel has any meaningful exchanges with.

Ursula is actually a particularly interesting example to pull out of each movie, as there is a character of this name in both. In The Little Mermaid, Ursula is the evil sea witch who lives alone, aside from her eels and the “poor unfortunate souls” she’s tricked. She lures Ariel into a poor deal by dangling her freedom in exchange for her voice as a part of a scheme to steal King Triton’s power. She is considered evil, ugly and cruel, so her eventual death is a cause for celebration.

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In Kiki’s Delivery Service, Ursula is a painter and recluse, living alone in her cabin in the woods except for the crows. She also makes a deal to help Kiki, but here she merely fixes a toy in exchange for Kiki completing chores. They become friends and when Kiki is later filled with self-doubt–so much so that she loses touch with her magic–Ursula offers her support and a place to stay. Ursula also explains how she has personally dealt with self-doubt about her paintings and encourages Kiki to stop putting so much pressure on herself and to believe in her abilities. In essence, she acts as a friend, mentor and role model to the younger girl.

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Kiki lives in a generally supportive community, yes, but it is important to note that this is a community where she receives friendship, guidance and support from the women around her–like many girls do in real life. Kiki’s role models are the women who provide supportive guidance but always allow her to make her own decisions, unlike the advisors for Ariel (King Triton, Sebastian, and Ursula) who try to force her hand. It isn’t even that the movie is paying special attention to the bonds of “Sisterhood” and Kiki certainly doesn’t get along with all of the girls she meets. We just rarely see women talking to women about something other than men in film, so it stands out as important.

Your Heart’s Desire

A final vital aspect I would like to highlight is the difference in goals between Kiki and Ariel. Kiki is looking to discover her own skills and train as a witch, so she begins her own small business and works hard to earn a living by helping people. Kiki’s desires are personal and internal, and so are her obstacles. The main difficulty Kiki faces is her own self-doubt, lack of confidence and depression, with some hijinks thrown in. Watching Kiki’s tale, we see a girl determining her own fate and discovering her strengths, with the help of friends. She saves the day by overcoming her lack of confidence and recalling her power to fly in time to save her friend Tombo from a surely fatal fall.

In The Little Mermaid, Ariel’s wish for freedom to see the human world very quickly becomes a quest for a kiss and we don’t get to see a return to her curiosity about the world during the rest of the tale. Ariel’s goal just becomes about winning Eric, particularly from Ursula’s tentacles.

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Unlike The Little Mermaid, romance is entirely optional and secondary in Kiki’s adventure, and not always desirable. Jiji, Kiki’s cat companion, actually falls in love, but his romance leads to his abandoning Kiki when she most needs him. Kiki’s own potential romantic subplot could be interpreted as an entirely platonic interaction, as Tombo is a persistent fan of the young witch, but Kiki’s feelings toward him are less clear. Kiki isn’t sure how to go about making friends in this new town, including a relatable uncertainty about how to approach Tombo. This growing relationship is slow moving and clearly secondary to Kiki’s obligations to her delivery service business. This makes her priorities seem practically opposite to Ariel’s concerns, as the mermaid gives up her fins and her community for a boy she’s known for three days.

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Ariel’s goals are relational and external, and her obstacles are set to match. In The Little Mermaid, the day is saved with little to no action by Ariel, who is a bystander to many of the events. Her friends drag her to the wedding and delay the ceremony, while Prince Eric is the one to defeat Ursula. However, you don’t necessarily miss her participation in the action, because Ariel does get what she wants: Eric. Her kiss. Kiki’s story could not be similarly resolved. We require personal growth and discovery to solve her problem and achieve her heart’s desire.

The divergence in the motivation of the protagonists highlights that the goals of each story are radically different. I’ll admit that I’m comparing apples and oranges. This could be a silly exercise, except that I grew up in an apple orchard, so of course that’s my reference point. Disney is the reference point for many children, especially girls. Although new stories have certainly been introduced since I was a little girl watching The Little Mermaid, I can’t say that Disney has loosened its hold over girls. My point here is to show how poorly served girls are when they don’t have access to tales like Kiki’s, which is constructed so differently from the Disney classics. Released in the same year, these two films present almost oppositional messages about girl entering the big bad world. What I wouldn’t give to hear more about Kiki’s narrative than Ariel’s.

Kiki’s Delivery Service is a coming-of-age story about finding your identity, stepping out on your own, falling and getting back up again. Kiki moves through this critical process with the help of the friends and family–particularly women–around her. In telling this story, it is a movie that supports the agency and power of girls, and doing it without making our protagonist into an Exception. Kiki is no rebellious wild child, no infallible hero, and no chosen one. She’s a 13-year-old girl who gets nervous, gets things wrong, and doesn’t always know what she’s doing. In making Kiki relatable, the film normalizes forging your own identity as something that every witch–or girl–must do.

What does it mean to build and depict a world where girls are supported in their growth and independence, instead of stymied? Among other things, it means that viewers (especially girls) get a chance to imagine a world that doesn’t eat you alive. Not a world without obstacles, but one where those who love you offer guidance and encouragement. It is a hopeful story about the challenges of girlhood and independence, and we need more of them. Kiki is doing what we all have to do: leave home, grow up, and find our place in the world. It’s scary thing, but it’s exciting too. It’s a story we are going to live and story we should be told.

 

Megan Ryland is a writer, feminist and nerd currently living Vancouver, BC. She recently completed her BA in Gender, Race, Sexuality and Social Justice & Political Science at the University of British Columbia. You can hear more from her at her blog Beauty vs Beast and as part of the team posting at The Body is Not an Apology.

 

 

‘Despicable Me 2’: One of These Things Is Not Like the Other

Despicable Me 2 poster

This is a guest post by Margaret Evans.

I really enjoyed the first Despicable Me movie. The characters were all a lot of fun, the bond between Gru and his adopted daughters was believable, and the world that the movie built was interesting. When the sequel came out, I saw it in the cinema, and it was just as good as the first, if not better. However, one scene in the movie troubled me.

 

At one point, the main character, Gru, is set up on a date with a woman, and the date doesn’t go well. When Shannon (his date) threatens to reveal his wig, he is “saved” when Lucy (one of the female leads) tranquilises her. Gru and Lucy drop Shannon off at her house, and slapstick humour ensues on the way.

 

So, why does the slapstick humour aimed at Shannon bother me when I have no problem with either slapstick humour as a concept or even the slapstick humour inflicted upon Gru, his minions, or later the main antagonist? I believe that the answer to this question can be found by taking a look at how the characters react when they are the focus of slapstick.
Lucy spies on Gru during his date with Shannon
In the case of Gru, the best example of slapstick is when he gets hit by Lucy’s lipstick taser. His response is to start frantically moving; he even does a little bit of the dance from Saturday Night Fever. He is very animated and clearly in pain.

 

Shannon’s experience, on the other hand, is very different from Gru’s. The major difference between the two is that Gru is conscious …  whereas Shannon is out for the count the whole time. Because of this, the humour doesn’t come from her reaction to the injuries that she is experiencing–but from her lack of reaction.

 

When Gru and Lucy take Shannon home, they don’t put her in the car or call for a taxi; they put her on the roof of the car, the same way you would put your luggage on the back of the car. When they arrive at Shannon’s house, she is unceremoniously thrown off of the car, and the other characters laugh about it. Now, imagine this scene again and–instead of Shannon–picture any inanimate object that you think fits. If you play this scene again in your mind with the changes, it will still make sense and be funny for the same reason.
Lucy and Gru
That is what troubled me about the scene with Shannon. In the case of Gru being tasered, the joke was his reaction and his pain, but in Shannon’s case, it was how she showed the exact same “reaction” that an inanimate object would (because she was unconscious). In Gru’s case, the humour has a humanising effect, but in Shannon’s case, the humour very literally objectifies her.

 

Now, it has been suggested to me that the reason Gru and Shannon are treated differently in this regard is that we are meant to sympathise with Gru because he is the good guy, and we are rooting for him, whereas we are meant to take delight in Shannon’s pain because she is cruel and obnoxious.

 

To counter this argument, I would like to take a look at the main villain. Near the end of the movie, the villain is defeated, in part by Gru using the same lipstick taser that Lucy used on him. The villain reacts in the same way that Gru did, and we can very clearly see the pain that he is experiencing because of the electricity. Yet, the humour still comes from his defeat rather than our feeling sorry for him. The movie does not use the character’s villainy as some sort of excuse to treat him as anything less than human.
Shannon from Despicable Me 2
Therefore, the fact that we are meant to strongly dislike Sharon and be rooting against her can’t be pinned down as the reason that her experience is so noticeably different from Gru’s. Neither can it be used as justification for the problematic elements.

 

The slapstick involving the other characters throughout the movie only serves to show that if the writers really wanted to pull some humour at the expense of Shannon, they could have easily done so without the need to reduce her character to the level of a piece of luggage.
The scene with Shannon is, for me, the sole off-putting scene in the movie. It is a scene in which being an irritating person and a bad date is used to justify knocking someone out–and in which a character gets treated the same way someone would treat an object that they felt didn’t need to be particularly handled with care. We, the audience, are meant to laugh along with Gru and Lucy, to view this all as an evening of comedic antics rather than what it actually is, complete disregard for her as a human being.
Gru, Lucy, and Shannon’s unconscious body
This scene didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the movie, but the rest of the movie doesn’t give this scene a free pass. Personally, I thought it was a real shame to see the direction that the movie temporarily took considering how good the movies had been up to that point at humanising its characters, (especially Gru, who played an archetype traditionally demonised in the first movie). I just wish that the people behind this movie could have put the same thought into writing the character of Shannon, however personally irritating they intended her to be.

 

Margaret Evans is a blogger from Godalming, a small town in south England. She contributes to the website www.paranerds.com. When she isn’t writing she volunteers as a receptionist for the local Citizen’s Advice Bureau and works as an admin for a local building firm.

Wedding Week: ‘Shrek’: Happily Ever After Gets a Green Makeover

Princess Fiona

This is a guest post by Megan Wright.

When I first watched Shrek, I can’t really remember how I felt about Fiona, aside from the fact that I thought it was fantastic that she was fighting Robin Hood and his Merry Men. As the years passed, I bought the movie, and it was also broadcasted on several channels. It was almost impossible to go a year without seeing it. So, as I watched it more and more, I could figure out the underlying themes in Shrek: appearances don’t matter, the locking away of those perceived as different is wrong, and that talking donkeys are awesome. But the most important theme of the movie is how a strong woman almost gets tricked into a loveless marriage because of her low self worth, all due to the standards of beauty society imposes on her.

I’m talking, of course, about Princess Fiona. Fiona is meant to be a deliberate contrast to the stereotypical princess. Her elaborate way of talking is forgotten in favor of insulting Shrek. When Robin Hood tries to rescue/abduct her, she promptly beats the crap out of him. She sings, but when she does, she accidentally blows up a bird. During her years in a tower, Fiona hasn’t simply gazed out a window, but instead taught herself first aid and martial arts. She doesn’t take Shrek’s plan to get her back to Farquaad happily. When Shrek complains that it’s his job, she replies “Well, I’m sorry, but your job is not my problem.” She knows the way she wants this rescue to go, damn it, and she’s not going to go along with Shrek’s plans simply to make it easier on him.

Princess Fiona, not in Ogre form

So why does she get bullied into marrying Farquaad?

The problem is that Fiona lives in a world that tries to separate anyone who doesn’t fit the ideal representation of perfection. Lord Farquaad first talks about it, saying that the fairytale creatures are ruining his “perfect kingdom.” Shrek shows a world that really isn’t too different from our own. Sure, the segregated group includes talking pigs, wolves that enjoy dressing like grandmothers, witches riding on broomsticks, but their problems are still similar. The fairytale creatures are kicked off their land and moved into an inhospitable area (Shrek’s swamp) simply because they don’t fit the norms of Farquaad’s perfect kingdom. It’s not that far off from real world situations.

Here’s an example of how much beauty means in this world–in the beginning of the movie Farquaad uses a magic mirror and is given a list of several princesses to choose from to make into a queen. One of those princesses is Snow White, who later shows up in Shrek’s swamp, exiled with the dwarfs. This sends the message that if magic can help him obtain a beautiful wife, then he’s fine with it. It’s only the “undesirable” fairytale creatures that we see Farquaad hates. Throughout the movie we think that Farquaad hates fairytale creatures, but he doesn’t. He hates the fairytale creatures that don’t match up to his obsessive standards of beauty.

It’s almost no wonder that in this world, Fiona would be desperate to become someone who wasn’t ostracized, or excluded. Fiona’s sole reason for getting married is that she wants to fit into society.

Fiona’s been raised on traditional fairytales, on handsome princes rescuing fair maidens from curses. Her parents stuck her in a tower for almost all of her life, keeping her from realizing that, just maybe, being an ogre isn’t the worst thing in the world. Fiona’s strong and capable, but she’s also been extremely sheltered. She’s constantly been taught that being anything other than the princess in the traditional fairytales is wrong, and she’s never seen examples to prove otherwise.

That’s why when Shrek walks into her life, she starts to come out of her shell. Here is someone different from society, someone like her, and he’s kind and warm (to her, at least). He’s not even lacking in companionship–he’s got Donkey for a friend. With Shrek, Fiona slowly begins to realize that it’s okay to be an ogre.

Princess Fiona and Shrek

Still, Fiona’s self-loathing over her ogre self goes extremely deep. When she confesses that she’s an ogre to Donkey, she says that no one would want to marry a beast like her. Shrek overhears this, and believes she’s talking about him. When he confronts her about it, and throws her words back in her face, she immediately assumes he’s talking about her. Fiona has overheard Shrek make comments about his identity as an ogre and the issues that come with it, so it wouldn’t be a huge leap for her to consider the possibility that Shrek overheard her and thought she was talking about him. But Fiona’s self loathing runs so deep that she doesn’t even consider the possibility.

Ironically, Fiona doesn’t even seem to focus on the fact that if Shrek is rejecting her, he’s also rejecting himself. After all, he’s an ogre just like her. But, again, she loathes herself so much that she doesn’t even think of that.

Fiona’s marriage to Farquaad is, even from the beginning, one of desperation, not love. She wants to love him because she wants to believe that his kiss will break her spell. When she later realizes that he’s a jerk, she still goes along with the marriage because she wants to have the curse removed. It’s been so ground into her that being different is horrible, that she believes, even though she doesn’t love Farquaad, the kiss of someone “normal” will make her better.

In the short amount of time that we see Fiona engaged to Farquaad, we see that she loses a lot of the character traits that she shows throughout the movie. She reverts back to the eloquent talk that she had in the beginning; she passively sits around waiting for the wedding to start; and she doesn’t speak up for herself, even though she’s clearly miserable. By reverting to the expectations society has for her, she’s “normal” but unhappy.

That’s why the climax of the story, where Fiona reveals that she’s an ogre, is so powerful. By revealing herself to Shrek as an ogre she’s saying that she can’t let him love her, if he can’t love all of her.

Shrek and Princess Fiona

It’s symbolic that Fiona’s ogre self, the self that has been rejected by society, is Love’s True Form. It doesn’t match up to society’s standards (which makes sense, because society’s standards told her to marry the heartless Farquaad), but it’s the best version of Fiona.

Fiona’s rejection of Farquaad’s marriage proposal is a rejection of the conventional life she’s been taught to want. When Fiona accepts Shrek’s love, she also accepts herself. By Fiona embracing Love’s True Form, she embraces the life that she secretly wants–a life as the best, truest version of herself, no longer in hiding.

Megan Wright is a TV reviewer and co-editor for Watch It Rae! She can be found glued to her computer blogging about her favorite TV shows, movies and books.

You Say Evil Like It’s A Bad Thing

Written by Myrna Waldron.
Maleficent appears at King Stefan’s castle
Last year I wrote a fairly well-received piece defending the Disney Princesses from a feminist perspective, “You Say Princess Like It’s A Bad Thing.” It was always my plan to write a sequel/companion piece to it. I like Belle and Ariel, but I admit that it’s the villainesses that keep me coming back. I get chills watching Maleficent demonstrate her infinite power. I sit in awe as Queen Grimhilde controls the very forces of nature to create her disguise potion. And, as a plus-size woman, I love the confidence Ursula has about her every curve. Yes, the Disney Villainesses are examples of strong female characters…who don’t have to be protagonists. Sometimes, it’s so good to be so bad.
“A thunderbolt! To mix it well. Now…begin thy magic spell.”
Queen Grimhilde:
  • Otherwise known as the Wicked Queen or The Witch, she is, of course, the very first villain in the Disney canon. And by god, is she memorable. Her face has a cold beauty enveloped in a dark headdress and a billowing violet cape. She is notably vain, but who can blame her? The Queen cannot be more than 40something at the most, and yet the Dwarfs, who must be positively ancient, refer to her as the “Old Queen.” Old? OLD? Not a wrinkle on her face and yet a group of dumpy, tiny old men consider her old. To hell with that. It’s quite obvious she lives in a world not so different from our own. A world where the only kind of beauty that is valued is the youthful kind. She fears the encroaching inevitability that one day her looks will fade, and then all that she has worked for–respect, power–will vanish and be transferred to her preteen stepdaughter. Her husband, the King, is noticeably absent, meaning that she is probably a regent. Her power is temporary, just like her beauty. The real tragedy of her death is that she has left her kingdom without a ruler. Snow White’s scampered off to go be with her Prince, and obviously doesn’t care about her birthright.
  • The Dwarfs speak of her talents with black magic. This is a brilliant woman. Deliciously bloodthirsty. The skeleton in her dungeon shows that she has killed before. This is not a woman to be trifled with. Her dungeon is full of books, tomes, instruments, and devices. In another world she would have been a scientific genius. As the Witch, she is an enormously quick thinker, and a rather effective actress. It is impossible for her to completely hide her malice towards Snow White, and yet see how ingeniously she tricks her into eating that poisoned apple. Note how she checked for an antidote to the poisoned apple, a sign of tremendous genre savvy. How was she to know that the Dwarfs would display Snow White’s body above ground as if she was some sort of attraction? Appreciate her enormous amount of power. How she could distill fear into liquid. How she could command the winds and lightning itself. Such a powerful, commanding woman. What a wonderful precedent she set.
Lady Tremaine figures out that Cinderella was the woman at the ball
Lady Tremaine:
  • Another early villainess and Wicked Stepmother whose name is underused (she is only referred to as Lady Tremaine at the ball when her daughters are being introduced). Cold green eyes and meticulously neat grey hair are the most recognizable features of a woman who is not to be trifled with. She has a dangerously quick, brilliant mind, and considering she named her horrible cat after the devil himself, apparently a sense of humour as well. The narrator tells us that she and her daughters are bitterly jealous of Cinderella. Can we really blame them? The daughters are plain, but hardly hideous, and yet the Prince and Duke act like they’re the ugliest women they’ve ever seen. The Prince actually rolls his eyes at them, an incredibly rude act considering that all he knows of them is that they came when summoned to the ball. The Duke shudders when Anastasia tries to show polite deference to him. Asshole. These two men are powerful, so Lady Tremaine has no choice but to be ambitious and try every opportunity possible to get her daughters to a higher station. She’d naturally be jealous of the stepdaughter who will get ahead mostly on the strength of her looks. As for the scene when the daughters rip apart Cinderella’s dress, although they tremendously overreacted, she IS wearing stolen jewelry and fabric. Is the movie seriously trying to tell me that after years of doing their laundry, Cinderella can’t recognize her own stepsisters’ belongings, and didn’t question where the mice got the materials to make the dress with? Come on now. And as for Lucifer, Disney, you are not going to convince me that a cat is evil just because he hunts house mice. I mean, how DARE a cat act according to its biology! Mice are destructive, noisy, disease ridden pests, and their talking and singing in this film has still never endeared me to them. Cat lover for life here.
  • Lady Tremaine herself is an amazingly effective villainess. The first of two Disney villains voiced by Eleanor Audley (who has to be one of the all-time greatest voice actors), I really love watching her brilliant mind work out details, and how quickly she reacts to things. I love the scene where she tells her daughters to control their tempers, and then immediately loses her own temper when she is interrupted by Cinderella. Her eyes are penetrating, and when she walks upstairs to lock Cinderella in her room, you follow her eyes the entire time. Her satisfied smirk when she believes she has succeeded over Little Miss Perfect. I also rather enjoy the touch of sarcasm and spite hidden in faux-affection when she refers to the clearly adult Cinderella as “Child.” Ah, if only all the Wicked Stepmothers in the innumerable adaptations of Cinderella were half as much fun as Lady Tremaine is.
“Now shall you deal with ME, O Prince. And all the powers of HELL!”
Maleficent:
  • I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Maleficent has got to be Disney’s most popular villain, and probably one of their most popular characters, period. When I asked for nominations of favourite Disney villainess, her name came up more often than anyone else’s. And I absolutely love the hell (pun intended) out of her myself. Her iconic design, combining the horns of Chernabog (the Devil in Fantasia) with a purple and green motif, defines the ultimate Disney villainess. Her infinite power is fascinating to watch. She can make a castle shake and blow hurricane-like winds even before she’s entered the room. Character-wise, like Lady Tremaine, she also has a sick sense of humour. Her curse on Aurora isn’t out of jealousy (let’s not pretend she really gives a shit about whether she was invited to the christening or not) but just because she can. She even kills the Three Fairies’ flowers with frost for the fun of it. And, upon learning that her moronic followers had been searching for a baby for sixteen years, she lets out insane laughter that almost completely conceals her rage boiling within.
  • A commander of all sorts of demons and dragons, she can bend reality itself–her trademark fire is acid green, not red. She also possesses incredible poetry in her speech, once again provided by the amazing Eleanor Audley. “I lay my trap for a peasant and LO! I catch a Prince!” And I don’t think anyone can forget her immortal, iconic, incredible line, “Now shall you deal with ME, O Prince. And all the powers of HELL!” She used the h-word in a Disney film! AND GOT AWAY WITH IT! She also weaves a sarcastic tale to Prince Philip about how she intends to keep him in her dungeon for 100 years, and that when the extremely elderly (if even still alive) Prince finally comes to awaken his Princess, she’ll still be young and beautiful and he’ll be old and withered. She ends her tale with a sarcastic, “Proving true love conquers ALL!” and can’t keep herself from laughing at the idea. She’s aware she’s in a fairy tale. That’s how powerful she is. And, as a Disney Channel special on Disney Villains pointed out to me, she would have won if it had been a fair fight. The Fairies magicked away everything possibly fatal to Prince Philip. The only part he did himself was hacking away at the thorny brambles, which, in comparison to the rocks and boiling pitch, were not a real threat. He didn’t even really strike the final blow. No, in my preferred ending to Sleeping Beauty, Maleficent swallows the Prince and Fairies whole and then goes to get that restful sleep she’s been lacking for 16 years. She deserves it.
Fearing being discovered by the police, Cruella demands that the puppies be killed quickly
Cruella De Vil:
  • There may be a wide variety of evil women detailed today, but Cruella’s kind of evil is, well…particularly nasty. First she purchases an enormous number of dalmatian puppies, then, just to get back at an old friend, kidnaps 15 more puppies to bring the number to 99. And, of course, what does she want to do with them? Make spotted dogskin coats! She’s quite obviously deranged, and has clearly pulled off this sort of thing before, judging by Anita’s comment about Cruella’s “new” fur coat, and how she addresses Jasper & Horace. But really, can we blame her for losing her mind a little? Her parents literally named her Cruel Devil. It’s like they were expecting her to turn out bad. Plus, her skunk hairdo and literally pointed cheekbones haven’t done her looks any favours. As she says, her only true love is furs–it’s the only way she can feel confident.
  • You have to admire her car. And mourn it when she wrecks the hell out of it. I can only shake my head at the 50-year-old attempt at “humour” with the “Crazy woman driver” bit, but then again, she was trying to make a moving van tip over. That takes some destructive ingenuity. Also, I can somewhat sympathize with her contempt for Roger. He does look stupid with that pipe. I also am in awe of her fantastically vindictive temper. Her suggestions for violently offing the puppies are without any restraint, and she even throws a bottle of wine into a fire, barely even reacting when it explodes. Another trait that makes her a well-developed villain is her verbal tic for calling people idiots. It’s like her favourite insult. She likes calling people fools and imbeciles a lot too. A proper British lady. And what of that song Roger wrote about her? Those lyrics have got to be slanderous, and yet he gets away with it. No human actually finds out it was Cruella who stole the puppies, so there’s no evidence supporting his lyrics. Poor Cruella. Loses that awesome car and now she has to listen to herself being insulted on the radio.
Lyrics from “Poor Unfortunate Souls” in which Ursula tries to persuade Ariel
Ursula:
  • Oh, Ursula. The world is a better place with you in it. A fantastic villain, with a curvaceous octopus frame and a deep voice to match. Like Eleanor Audley, I love just listening to Pat Carroll talk. Woman’s in her 80s and she still happily voices Ursula every time. Ursula may be a villain, but speaking as a fat woman, she is a tremendously important character to me. She’s big, and she doesn’t care. She loves herself, and is pure confidence in an aquatic frame. She does transform herself into a slim woman to become Vanessa, but I think that was more of a “trying to look like Ariel” thing than “trying to be skinny to attract a man” thing. C’mon. Like Ursula doesn’t know she’s sexy in her own way. “BOOODYYYY LAAAANGUAAAAGE, HAH!” I also enjoy her pets, Flotsam and Jetsam. Horrible icky-looking eels, and yet she dearly loves her “little poopsies.”
  • She’s also very, very capable. Look how easily she played Ariel for every step of her story. I’m going to consider the Broadway musical’s plot point that she and Triton are siblings non-canonical for today, but her revenge plan went almost perfectly. When she gets the trident and now commands the entire ocean, her display of sheer unbridled power rivals Maleficent’s transformation into the dragon. That’s not just Triton’s power she’s using, she’s combining it with her own. And oh, what a sweet talker she is. She is the master of the Faustian Bargain. I particularly love her deliberate dramatic irony when she tries to convince Ariel that men don’t care what women have to say. I also love watching her work with her cauldron. Those colours. Those explosions and smoke trails. This is a formidable lady, and an absolutely incredible villainess.
Yzma visualizes turning Kuzco into a flea, then smashing him with a hammer
Yzma:
  • The Emperor’s New Groove came out during that kinda awkward time where I was “too old” for Disney movies, (Hah!) so this was my first viewing of this film. And wow, I wish I’d watched it earlier. Yzma is a twist on all the other villainesses in that she is not only not very good at the whole evil thing, she’s hilarious. And really, it’s kinda evil to try to assassinate an emperor, but he also kinda deserved it. She probably wouldn’t have been a much better ruler than Kuzco was, but her usage of “Peasant” as a pejorative would have at least been memorable. Her looks are a bizarre combination of Maleficent, Ursula, and…Zirconia from Sailor Moon. Seriously, GIS her if you’re not a Moonie. Incredible resemblance. She’s ancient and skinny as a rail with spider-like eyelashes, and yet dresses almost like a Vegas showgirl. Yzma shot up to one of my favourite Disney villains very quickly. The Adam West version of Batman has always been my favourite, so her being voiced by Eartha Kitt made me miss her tremendously.
  • She has a similarity to Queen Grimhilde in that she has her own “secret” lab. And it’s actually a lab this time! She wears a lab coat and goggles and everything! Hey, look at that. A woman of science. Lord knows why she specializes in animal transmogrification potions, but whatever. She has so many funny little quirks that make her a three-dimensional character. Her strong dislike of gravy. Her acquiescing to have dessert and coffee before getting rid of an unconscious Kuzco. Her inexplicable decision to have a lever open a trap door to an alligator-infested moat (which even she doesn’t understand). Her insult that finally makes her assistant Kronk turn on her–that she never liked his spinach puffs–well, honey, I can sympathize. I don’t like spinach either. And, honestly, I was rooting for her the entire time. To heck with Kuzco.
Lyrics from “Mother Knows Best” where Mother Gothel attempts to scare Rapunzel into obedience
Mother Gothel:
  • She’s a very recent villainness since Tangled came out only a few years ago, but she definitely made her mark on this film. Her chief trait is her utter fear of growing old and dying, which, to be fair, is a reasonable fear. What wasn’t so reasonable was her hogging the sunlight flower so only she could benefit from its gifts. But there’s a villainess for ya. Besides Queen Grimhilde, she’s possibly one of the most attractive villainesses Disney has created. Her wavy raven hair is striking, as are her wine red gown and wide grey eyes. Her joke about being a beautiful young woman isn’t all that far off. I can understand wanting to hold on to that. And really, she tried not to be completely evil. Is it her fault that cutting a lock of Rapunzel’s hair severs its magical properties?
  • Another distinctive character trait is just what a…loving mother she is. She’s basically a textbook example of the mentally/emotionally abusive parent. She compliments, then harshly criticizes. She raises Rapunzel to be terrified of the outside world. Gothel insists that Rapunzel is foolish, clumsy and helpless, and only she can protect her from the dangers of the world. She only reluctantly listens to Rapunzel’s wishes, and perhaps this is because she wants to make sure Rapunzel is still willing to sing for her. In a clever touch of subtlety, when she says, “I love you most,” to Rapunzel, it’s her hair she kisses. The interesting thing about Mother Gothel is that she’s obviously trying to straddle between being a decent mother and a cruel one, and she can’t help failing at it because she’s such a completely selfish person. Once Rapunzel’s kidnapping is discovered, Gothel snaps, and decides she is going to be the “bad guy” after all. Her fear of death is such that she’ll control Rapunzel literally forever, and won’t hesitate to kill if necessary. And when Rapunzel’s hair is completely cut and the flower’s spell fades, her incredibly rapid aging is pretty disturbing. She even does the trademark Disney thing of falling to her death…except that she’s already dead. She’s dust before she even hits the ground. Damn! Just how old WAS she?
The definition of the Strong Female Character differs from person to person, but I define it as: #1, She has realistic flaws, #2, She is in charge of her own destiny, #3, She acts with agency independently of male characters, and #4, Her story is compelling to watch. Pretty broad definition, I think, and hey, look at that. Every single one of these villainesses counts. A Strong Female Character does not have to be a protagonist. Sometimes it’s every bit as fun to root for a villain as it is to hope for the hero. And Disney, to their credit, has made some absolutely amazing villains. The ladies profiled here were a combination of my own personal favourites and some votes from my readers. And, I gotta say, I’ve had more fun writing this than I’ve had in a very long time. Viva la evil!
 
Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

Miyazaki Month: Spirited Away

Written by Myrna Waldron.
Haku and Chihiro walk through a floral maze
Spirited Away has a deserved reputation as Hayao Miyazaki’s Magnum Opus, and even managed to outgross Princess Mononoke at the Japanese box office. It’s also, to this date, the only traditionally animated non-Western animated feature to win the Best Animated Feature Oscar. Which really should be called the Pixar Award For Distinguished Achievement At Being Pixar. I have trouble believing that the film is 12 years old, because it feels like it was released only yesterday. I slightly prefer Princess Mononoke, but Spirited Away is just as much a masterpiece as Miyazaki’s other works.
And, of course, it’s feminist too.
  • The English dub is not as accurate as Princess Mononoke’s was. It’s still very well done, but there was a lot more ad-libbing, extra dialogue, and some slight fiddling around with plot points. The Captain Obvious problem happens again with some of Chihiro’s dialogue, (“Haku! You’re bleeding!”) and they have her talk about Haku a lot more often than she does in the original script. The other characters often make allusions to The Power of Love that weren’t there in the original. Zeniba even says that her curse on Haku was broken by Chihiro’s love for him, though I think this change was added not so much to push the romance angle but to make the whole situation with Zeniba a little clearer. …Not that it helped much. I prefer the casting of voice actors in this film, as there aren’t any gratuitous celebrity voice actors this time. Of the main cast, the most well-known name is the late Suzanne Pleschette, and she would only be familiar to Baby Boomers for the most part. Even then, she and almost all of the others had previous experience as voice actors for Disney. And yes, Disney, you get a cookie for casting Daveigh Chase (who was fantastic as Lilo) instead of one of the Fannings. One other thing I have to commend the English dub for is that hilarious song about No-Face that John Ratzenberger ad-libbed for his character. Definite improvement over the original, which was already a very funny scene. I don’t know why the English dub team decided to go back to doing celebrity voice actors for future Ghibli releases, especially ones that are destined to immediately date the film like a Cyrus sister and a Jonas brother would.
  • Chihiro is the type of little girl heroine I wish I had when I was younger. Hayao Miyazaki has said that he specifically designed her to be average, relatable, likeable, and non-sexualized. He has also said how much he resents that a hero can be unattractive, but a heroine must always be cute. Chihiro really does look, act and feel like a real Japanese child, not a fantasy of what one “should” be. Her story has been compared to Alice in Wonderland, which I can sorta see (little girl is trapped in a dreamlike world where people are needlessly hostile to her and not much makes sense). One thing I really love about how Chihiro is depicted in this movie is all the little touches that make her feel real. When she puts on her shoes, she taps her toes on the floor to make sure the shoe is on properly as she walks off. Something that we normally don’t even think about, our tiniest little unconscious habits, Hayao Miyazaki has thought of, and added to the depiction of his heroine.
  • As mentioned before, one of Miyazaki’s favourite themes is environmentalism, and it plays a role in the plot in two instances. First, Chihiro proves herself to Yubaba and the other workers by successfully “curing” the Stink God that was actually the spirit of a severely polluted river. The “Stink God”’s appearance is a pretty heavy condemnation of how disgusting pollution is. The characters make it clear with their expressions that the bathhouse guest is the worst thing they have ever smelled in their lives. Its very presence rots the furniture. It’s actually pretty hard not to feel grossed out during that scene, and again at the end when Chihiro and the others pull the enormous pile of garbage out of the river spirit. This scene gives a strong visual consequence of pollution, and by adding a spiritual element to it, gives another reason for sympathy. Environmentalism is referenced again when Haku turns out to be the spirit of the Kohaku River. Chihiro had fallen in the river when she was very small, and he had saved her. She tells him that the river was drained and built over, which is why Haku forgot his name and identity and entered his life of servitude to Yubaba. A major character’s life was ruined by a lack of reverence for nature.
Chihiro and Haku remember how they know each other
  • I am appreciative that once again, romance is not the most important “goal” of the story, but what is most important is to just to show Chihiro’s maturing (though I do think the English dub pushed the “power of love” angle a bit too much). And really, I honestly feel uncomfortable thinking of Chihiro and Haku’s relationship as romantic. The characters mention that Chihiro loves him, but it’s a very shortsighted person who immediately concludes that the only definition of love between non-related people has to be romantic. She’s a little girl, he’s an immortal dragon spirit. There’s no way their relationship (if there even is one) can work – they’re better off as friends, just like Ashitaka and San. And really, who’s to say that Chihiro isn’t the type of person who just loves everyone? She’s shown to be a kind and generous person, and she even shows some degree of affection towards Yubaba.
  • It is fitting that the beginning of the film is about Chihiro and her family moving to a new home, as the major theme of the film is transition and change. Chihiro is just at the cusp of puberty – that awkward, rather unpleasant time where you are rapidly leaving childhood and you’re not sure what’s going to happen next. She starts out petulant and sullen as she hates having to leave her friends behind. And right from the beginning, we see how negligent and foolish her parents are, as they let Chihiro roll around in the backseat without a seatbelt (and her father drives around like a maniac!). It’s too late for her parents to learn anything, so Chihiro has to step up and be the responsible one. She has her moments of weakness, especially near the beginning when she repeatedly breaks down and cries, but this is a reasonable reaction for her. I’m (supposedly) an adult, and I’m not so sure I wouldn’t panic if I were in her situation. It’s very striking when Chihiro shows maturity – she remembers her manners again, she works hard without complaint, and she shows that she has a great intuitive ability. This is very deliberate, I suspect. Just like Chihiro’s parents, we often make the mistake of dismissing a child entirely because they’re a child. And little girls in particular seem to be dismissed and underestimated the most. Look at the crappy toys they get. “Here, honey, this is a plastic iron and ironing board so you can play at doing work! And here’s a doll that talks about nothing but shopping!” Miyazaki has given us a heroine that shows us just how strong and capable children can be – intellectually, emotionally, and physically.
  • The other characters go through a character arc of maturity and change as well, and likely as a result of meeting Chihiro. Haku starts off ambiguously – he confusingly shows great kindness and yet great coldness to Chihiro at the same time. But when he regains his name, and regains his freedom, his cold eyes become warm and affectionate. He starts off as a kind of saviour or guardian to Chihiro, which she repays by being a kind of saviour to him. Rin, the spirit that Chihiro assists in the bathhouse, very quickly goes from contempt to kindness as she gets to know Chihiro. Her third helper, Kamaji, starts off gruffly, but quickly goes well out of his way to help her, such as pretending that she’s his granddaughter, and even giving her train tickets that he had been saving for 40 years. These three characters who serve as her helpers all have one thing in common – they make a complete arc from rejecting Chihiro to totally embracing her.
Chihiro passes by a mysterious stone statue
  • The twin sorceresses, Yubaba and Zeniba, also go through a character transition. Yubaba is apparently the villain of the story, as she steals Chihiro’s name and forces her to work for her parents’ freedom. And yet she is not entirely evil, (there’s that trademark Miyazaki moral ambiguity again) as she clearly loves her baby Boh, and even keeps her word to release Chihiro’s contract if she passes her test. She’s not a nice lady by any means, but when the story ends she doesn’t seem nearly as horrible as she did at the beginning. Boh himself goes through a fairly quick maturation, as he starts off as a coddled shut-in paranoid about germs, and ends up happily assisting Chihiro, and both figuratively and literally stands up to his mother. Zeniba… I have a little more trouble understanding. When we first see her, she’s clearly trying to kill Haku for stealing her golden seal. She also physically transforms all the creatures in Yubaba’s room, which seems to be a punishment against her sister. At that point, she is not only physically identical to Yubaba, but identical in personality as well. So it is pretty jarring for her to be suddenly sweet and grandmotherly to Chihiro when they meet. She’s still kind of brusque, but definitely a complete transformation from her introduction. I’ve never entirely been able to figure it out. There’s a theory that Yubaba and Zeniba are two halves of the same person (which is hinted at when Chihiro calls both of them “Granny”), which sort of gives an explanation…but it’s hard to wrap my mind around.
  • The whole movie is kind of a mind screw, really, and I don’t think that’s entirely because I’m mostly unfamiliar with Japanese mythology. When I finished rewatching it yesterday, I had more questions than answers. I cannot take credit for this observation, but my mind was blown when it was pointed out how different the entrance to the tunnel was at the beginning and the end of the film. At the end, the red paint has worn off. The tunnel has been covered in ivy. The cobblestones are covered with grass. The foliage is thicker. And the little stone statue has been eroded by weather. Chihiro’s father points out that there are leaves all over the car, and dust inside it. But just how long were they trapped inside the spirit world? It seemed like less than a week to Chihiro’s perspective, but it has obviously been much longer than that. All of those changes from beginning to end suggest that they were in there for decades. Time and space clearly have no meaning there (for one thing, the day/night schedule is flipped), because why would it matter to something immortal and immaterial? But then the horror hit me. What happened when they arrived at their new home? At the very least, this family has been missing for a week. Pretty heavy implications there.
  • I have other questions too, not just about the period of time and ambiguity of Zeniba’s character. Is Boh actually Yubaba’s baby? How long has he been a baby? What do the bathhouse workers actually look like (their humanoid appearance is obviously not natural)? What will happen to Haku, since the river that he represents is gone? Did cleaning the polluted river spirit actually clean the river itself? Were Chihiro’s parents genuinely being gluttonous, or were they enchanted to act that way? How did it become nighttime so quickly after Chihiro’s family crossed into the spirit world in broad daylight? Were Chihiro’s family the only humans who stumbled into the spirit world, or have there been others? (The tunnel’s not all that well hidden, after all!) But the fact that I want all these answers tells me that this is the mark of a film with rich world-building, and a film that shows rather than tells. When I woke up this morning, I thought I didn’t have as much to say about Spirited Away. And yet, here I am babbling for 2100 words. That’s the sign of a film that is special.  


    Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

    Let’s Re-Brand "Disney Princesses" as "Disney Heroines"

    Written by Robin Hitchcock
    A piece of fan art and the particularities of French to English translation may have solved our Disney Princess problem: 
    Disney Heroines Simple Lines, by David Gilson
    Feminist parents (and grandparents and aunts and uncles and siblings) often worry about their young girls getting sucked into Disney Princess culture, and not just because of the intimidating price tags at the Disney store. We don’t want our kids growing up with female role models solely labelled with the coveted status of “princess,” and therefore defined by their relationships with men (be they fathers or husbands), and admired largely for their status over others. It’s pretty much the last thing a feminist would want for their kids. 
    A more typical (but still very clever) piece of fan art depicting
    Disney Princesses as cover models on women’s magazines. Artist unknown.
    However, criticism of Disney Princess culture often overlooks that Disney has created a battalion of strong female characters who are in fact fantastic role models for children, particularly since the dawn of the Disney Renaissance. 
    There’s a recurring theme of headstrong rebellion against societal expectations (Ariel, Jasmine, Mulan, Merida), which might sound a little scary from a parenting point of view but is certainly a vital part of a developing feminist consciousness. Disney Heroines are accepting of people their peers reject and other because of their differences (Belle, Pocahontas, Esmerelda, Jane). And Disney Heroines are self-assured even though they themselves can be awkward and not really fit in (Ariel, Belle, Mulan, Lilo, Rapunzel), even when they are actively scorned by society (Esmerelda, Vanellope Von Schweets). 
    Particularly in the most recent films, Disney Heroines expressly have their own interests, skills, and goals completely unrelated to romance and social status (Tiana, Sgt. Calhoun). And they’re smart and sassy and lovable (pretty much all of them, but I just want to give a special shout-out to my homegirl Megara). 
    These are characters we should want our kids to be obsessed with. Shifting from “Disney Princesses” to “Disney Heroines” widens the field on a semantic level to include a lot more fantastic characters, but more importantly highlights what really makes these women special. It’s not their status as princesses; it is who they are.
    ———–
    Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa. Disney movies are her favorite cold medicine, hangover cure, and anti-depressant.

    When Life Gives You Infertility, Make Your House Fly: Found Family in ‘UP’

    Carl and Ellie in their home
    This is a guest post written by Talia Liben Yarmush for our theme week on Infertility, Miscarriage, and Infant Loss.

    Pixar’s UP begins with young Carl, an adventure-admiring, imaginative boy meeting his match in young Ellie. The two hit it off instantly with their shared interest in everything adventure, and the first eleven and a half minutes are an ode to their lifelong mutual devotion to each other. They become fast friends; they fall in love, marry, and build a life together. The only thing missing? After Ellie suffers a miscarriage, the two are immeasurably saddened by the loss of this baby. In an attempt to fill the void, Carl establishes an “Adventure Fund,” so that together they may one day be able to live what they always dreamed. However, with each passing year comes a new obstacle, requiring them to deplete their funds over and over again. Until one day, Ellie, old and weak, dies. And Carl is left alone with sadness and regret at not giving Ellie her big adventure. When I saw UP in the theater, I was sitting next to my husband, a man I met when I was 14, became best friends with, married, and was now going through infertility treatments with. So, this intro hit pretty close to home.

    As I see it, the two infertility themes in this story are miscarriage and living childfree. Despite my vast experience with infertility, I am not personally familiar with either of these. I have, thankfully, never had a miscarriage (although during one very painful episode of endometrial bleeding, my husband and I were sure that I was in the midst of one), and thanks to IVF, I now have two sons. I can tell you that the first theme, miscarriage, is shown in only seconds, and it is a scene that will remain with you throughout the entire film. In thirty seconds, this animated family film is able to portray the loss in such a visceral way that even if you have never had an experience like it, you will be brought to tears. And I can tell you that the second theme, living childfree, is complicated and filled with mixed emotions. Carl, tormented by his inability to give his wife what she wanted, finally realizes by the end of the film that Ellie’s life with him was her adventure, and that she was happy with it. Many couples must make the difficult decision whether to keep trying, to continue fertility treatments, to hope that the next cycle works, that the next pregnancy sticks, to attempt adoption, or to somehow find a way to come to terms with a life without children. Some couples make this decision. But for some, the decision is made for them.

    Carl and Ellie prepare the nursery for their baby
    The question is what to do once that decision has been made. Once an infertile couple mourns the loss of a life without children and finds peace with their new reality, can the void ever be filled by something or someone else? Ellie, as we learn, was happy and satisfied with the life she lived with Carl. But once Ellie died, Carl was left alone. No children. Just memories and unfounded regret. Until he meets Russell. Russell reminds Carl of the boy he once was, and of the girl he married. He reminds him of the family he wanted with Ellie, and of the adventures they’d hoped to go on. Some view Russell as the child that Carl never had. In fact, we find out that Russell himself has an absent father, so Russell was searching for a father just as much as Carl was searching for a son. But I don’t see it in those terms. Russell is a friend, he is a companion, he is a playmate. Russell is Carl’s family. Because we don’t always get to live the life that we had planned. But we do get to choose a great many things. We can choose to keep on fighting for what we want. Or we can choose to make peace with the lives that we have. And, most importantly, we can choose our family, even if we can’t create them ourselves.
    ———-

    Talia Liben Yarmush is a freelance writer and editor. She is also an infertile mother who writes her own blog, The Accidental Typist.

    Gender & Food Week: ‘James and the Giant Peach’

    James and the Giant Peach
    This guest post written by Libby White previously appeared at Bitch Flicks as part of our series on Animated Children’s Films and our series on Women and Gender in Musicals.

    Based on the book by Roald Dahl, James and the Giant Peach has been a favorite movie of mine since childhood. After all, what kid wouldn’t love a cast of singing and dancing insects?
    (Before I go into a review of the movie, I must state that I have never read the book, and do not know how closely the movie follows. Any comments I make are on the film alone, not the book.)
    Directed by Henry Selick, the story revolves around a boy named James, who after the death of both parents, ends up a slave to his two cruel aunts, Sponge and Spiker. After an encounter with a strange man promising him “marvelous things,” James receives a bag of magical sprites, (crocodile tongues boiled in the skull of a dead witch for 40 days and 40 nights, the gizzard of a pig, the fingers of a young monkey, the beak of a parrot and three spoonfuls of sugar to be exact),  that inadvertently end up planting themselves within a barren peach tree. An enormous peach sprouts from the tree at contact,  which James later escapes into, turning into a claymation version of himself. Alongside a band of personified insects, the group sail across the ocean on the peach, encountering various trials as they head towards their destination in New York City.
    The aunts, Sponge and Spiker, are two of the worst people to ever grace the silver screen, with their terrible abuse of young James setting the stage for the adventure ahead. They serve as the main antagonists of the story, chasing James across land and sea to recapture him.
    The Aunts are horrific caretakers; starving, beating, and emotionally abusing James relentlessly. Mind you, this is a movie for children. And like in most children’s movies, the Aunts’ outward appearance reflects their inner evil. Both women are made to look terrifyingly cruel and yet simultaneously clown-like, dressed in orange-red wigs and slathered on make-up. During their first 20 minutes on screen, the two women participate in dozens of morally reprehensible practices, everything from shameless vanity to verbally attacking a woman and her children.
    The fact that the villains are female does not bother me, nor that they are portrayed as greedy, selfish people. After all, women are just as capable as men of committing child abuse. However, while the style of the movie is very dark and Tim Burton-esque, I can’t help but wish that the Aunts’ appearances were not related to their evil.  Too often in the world of children’s movies a villain need only be identified by their ugly appearance, as if that is a symptom of inner ugliness. Just look at most Disney movies from the past century!
    The women’s abuse of James was also very dramatic and purposeful, most likely so that the children watching the movie could understand James’ need for immediate escape. The film could have used the Aunts as an opportunity to delve into the other types of child-abuse, but instead meant to focus on the strong atmosphere of fantastical adventure. (With a story that involves death by Rhinoceros, skeleton pirates, and mechanical sharks, it is easy to understand why the people themselves are wildly unrealistic. The world itself is wildly unrealistic.) 
    Transformed by the sprites themselves, James finds a group man-sized insects living within the giant peach, each with a unique personality that relates to their species. There is a smart, cultured grasshopper; a kind, nurturing ladybug; a rough-talking, comedic centipede; a neurotic, blind earthworm; a poetic, intelligent spider; and a deaf, elderly glowworm.
    The spider, glowworm, and ladybug are all female, each very different and yet immensely likeable. It’s great to see several types of female personalities represented, though perhaps they are a little clichéd. Miss Spider is the typical sensual seductress, the Ladybug a doting mother-figure. The glow-worm has no real part except serving as a lantern inside the peach, and occasionally mishearing a phrase for laughs.
    James: “The man said marvelous things would happen!”
    Glowworm: “Did you say marvelous pigs in satin?”
    Miss Spider in particular is a great female character; strong, smart, and willing to stand up for herself and those she cares about. Despite her reputation as a killer and cave-dweller, she repeatedly defends James and wards off the assumptions the other insects have made-about her.  From the moment she is introduced in her personified form, you can’t help but like her. She doesn’t take anyone’s crap.
    Ladybug comes off as an older, traditional woman, complete with a flowered hat and overfilled purse. She is kindly, though strict about manners and being polite. When describing what each bug hopes to find in New York City, Ladybug is most concerned with seeing flowers and children. And while Ladybug does resemble an Aunt of mine to disturbing proportions, I felt like she had no purpose in the story other than to serve as James’ replacement mother/grandmother. While the other insects are having swashbuckling adventures and near death experiences, Ladybug is just scenery, screaming and cheering in the correct places. Which is odd, because every insect has a large amount of screen time devoted to their stories and transformation, minus the glowworm and ladybug. Both female characters. In the end, it was James, Miss Spider, Centipede, Earthworm, and Grasshopper who repeatedly saved the day. Ladybug was just there to reassure James of himself whenever fear or doubt overtook him.

    Despite this unfortunate exclusion, I still would highly recommend the film to anyone who is interested. It is visually stunning, undoubtedly original, and teaches a lesson about family that is quite touching.
    From a feminist perspective, my favorite thing about the film is that it doesn’t pay any attention to sex at all. At no point are the Aunts’ criticized for being a disappointment to the name of maternal women. At no point is Miss Spider treated differently because she is female. No, almost every character has an inner and outer struggle, each reaching a defining moment in the plot where they must test themselves to save those they love. Together, the insects and James form a makeshift family, each working equally with one another to build a happy life in their new home. (And the boy who plays James is too cute for words, all his emotions and inner growth come off as genuine. You can’t help but cheer for him as he finally stands up to his aunts.)
    Overall, James and the Giant Peach is an excellent movie, and I would suggest it to any parent or person who likes stories of adventure and fantasy. Any warnings I would give would refer only to the dark nature of the beginning of the film, and to any people who may be afraid of giant, rampaging rhinoceroses.
    ———-
    Libby White is a senior at the University of Tennessee, studying Marketing and Spanish full-time. Her parents were in the Navy for most of her life, so she got to see the world at a young age, and learn about cultures outside her own. Her mother in particular has had a huge influence on her, as she was a woman in the military at a time when men dominated the field. Her determination and hard-work to survive in an environment where she was not welcomed has made Libby respect the constant struggle of women today.

    Mrs. Claus Gets Shit Done: Thoughts On ‘The Year Without A Santa Claus’

    By Myrna Waldron
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    The Year Without A Santa Claus DVD Art (Source: IMDB)
    It might be the defining characteristic of modern Christmas celebrations that we consider the televised Christmas special/movie as one of our most beloved traditions. For many people, it doesn’t feel like Christmas without the Grinch, a lamp that looks like a leg, a suicidal Jimmy Stewart, and the animated specials released during the 60s and 70s by Rankin-Bass. My personal favourite is “Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town,” but a friend of mine suggested I take a look at this one because unlike almost all of the other Christmas specials, it’s Mrs. Claus that is the real hero.
    I always found the characterization and concept of Mrs. Claus interesting. First off, it’s kind of funny that “Claus” is used as a last name, when “Santa Claus” literally just means “Saint Nicholas.” If anything, she should be Mrs. Kringle. Another interesting thing is that, although there is a strong consensus that Santa Claus is indeed married (the historical Saint Nicholas, being a priest, wasn’t), we know nothing about her, and she seems content to step back and let her more famous husband get all the attention. Even in the Toronto Santa Claus Parade, which is over 100 years old and originated the practice (take THAT, Macy’s) didn’t feature Mrs. Claus in the parade until only last year. Doesn’t really make sense, does it?
    So “The Year Without A Santa Claus” is an interesting Christmas special just because Mrs. Claus is basically the main character in it. The only other Christmas special I know of where Mrs. Claus is a significant character is “A Chipmunk Christmas” from 1981. (She was played by June Foray there, and may that woman live forever) It’s one of the few Rankin-Bass specials I didn’t grow up with, so I have the unusual ability to look at this without wearing the rose-coloured glasses of nostalgia. It’s by no means feminist, but it just comes so close to getting there that it’s worth discussing.
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    Mrs. Claus, Iggy, Jingle & Jangle (Source: Celebrations.com)
    • Santa Claus seems to be a ridiculous bumbler in this special, compared to his highly capable wife. It’s kind of a variation on the “dumb husband, smart wife” stereotype that is constantly used in commercials and sitcoms.  I found it kind of ridiculous that Santa immediately bought into the cynical rants of one grouchy doctor when he, more than anyone else who has ever lived, would know whether people have the Christmas spirit and goodwill or not.
    • I have to wonder what Mrs. Claus spends her time doing. We see her doing domestic chores like laundry (inexplicably hanging it outside in, you know, the North Pole), ironing, and caring for her husband. Does she assist the elves in toy making? Does she care for the reindeer? Assuming she shares her husband’s magical immortality, she probably has other magic abilities too. And if this is a semi-sequel to “Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town” (as Mickey Rooney plays Santa in both), Mrs. Claus was a former teacher, and thus wouldn’t be entirely happy just devoting herself to domestic tasks.
    • When Santa decides that he’s going to skip giving out the presents this year, Mrs. Claus sings a song about her plans to fill in for him. She then immediately gives up these plans when the elves Jingle and Jangle recognize her. This makes absolutely zero sense. #1, she wasn’t wearing a beard or anything, just the suit, so of COURSE she was recognized, #2, Jingle and Jangle already know her, but nobody outside of the North Pole does, and #3, nobody sees Santa while he’s doing his work anyway (or at least they’re not supposed to – this film has Santa appearing to practically everyone) so what does it matter whether she looks like Santa or not? This was throwing away a perfectly good idea. Why can’t Mrs. Claus fill in for him? Why must it be Santa or no one? Can we say…patriarchy, boys and girls?
    • While Santa gripes about his illness and revels in disappointing the children (what the hell, Santa) Mrs. Claus is the one who comes up with all the ideas to change his mind.  Sending Jingle and Jangle (riding on Vixen) out into the world to find evidence of goodwill and Christmas spirit, she shows that she understands the people better than Santa does. And that Santa is more likely to believe a grumpy doctor than his own wife. Once again, what the hell, Santa.
    • When Jingle and Jangle run into a problem (the mayor of Southtown, where they have landed, promises to encourage the world to show Christmas spirit if they can make the  area snowy) it’s not Santa they turn to, it’s Mrs. Claus. And boy, does she come through. Jingle and Jangle aren’t terribly smart apparently. They have physically met the Snow Miser, but don’t think that maaaaybe the Snow Miser can, I don’t know, make things SNOW? Fortunately, Mrs. Claus seems to be the only person in the North Pole who isn’t a colossal idiot.
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    Snow Miser, Mother Nature & Heat Miser (Source: Moviesnobs.net)
    • Snow Miser and Heat Miser are the two things people remember most about this special. They’re not evil, but they are jerks, and Mrs. Claus has incredible patience for putting up with their antics. I’m actually shocked she didn’t even object when the Heat Miser demanded that the North Pole be added to his territory. Lady, you live there, don’t you think you have the right to speak up a little? Maybe it’s Mrs. Claus who should be the saint. She just seems to be endlessly willing to go along with the Misers’ demands just so one jerkass mayor can have a White Christmas.
    • But she is at least resourceful and clever enough to realize that the Misers are unreasonable, and that she has to appeal to a higher authority – their mother, Mother Nature. She makes a big fuss about how nervous she is to visit her, as they’ve never met before…and then Mother Nature just turns out to be a powerful but kind and feminine older lady. Kind of an anticlimax, really. I was hoping for the female version of the Winter Warlock. It’s a shame Mrs. Claus and Mother Nature only discussed her sons, as we could have had a Bechdel Test pass here. Maybe Mrs. Claus will visit her more often now that she knows there’s no need to be intimidated.
    • The Misers’ fear of their mother is interesting, to say the least. She appears to be a very traditional type of woman in Victorian clothing, serving tea and chatting amiably with Mrs. Claus and her friends. Is their fear a subtextual message to the audience not to underestimate the power of women? Or is it just a comedic bit making light of the Misers’ emasculation? It all depends on your interpretation.
    • The film’s biggest failure is that it doesn’t celebrate Mrs. Claus nearly as much as it should. It was she who came up with the solutions for every problem, but as soon as Santa decides that he doesn’t want to be a jerk after all, the film is all YAY SANTA IS BACK! No thank you to Mrs. Claus for actually encouraging and helping her husband to be the man everyone expects him to be? The film even seems to give more credit to the children sending weepy letters to him. Yeah, that was cute, but…c’mon. Give the old lady her dues.
    Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

    ‘Wreck-It Ralph’ Is Flawed, But Still Pretty Feminist

    By Myrna Waldron
    Wreck-It Ralph Movie Poster
    I’m an animation geek. You probably know that by now. I also have played video games pretty much my entire life. (I read comic books and play DnD too, I’m basically der Ubergeek) So when I heard that Walt Disney Pictures were releasing a Roger Rabbit inspired movie about video games that would feature cameos from real video game characters, AND directed by Rich Moore, a veteran animation director from Futurama (my favourite show), I just about died. Wreck-It Ralph is one of three movies I was anticipating in 2012, the other two being The Hunger Games (meh) and The Hobbit (stay tuned). And, thank goodness, I wasn’t disappointed. Now, mind you, it’s not a perfect film. There were a lot of things I would have liked to have been done differently. But I was pleasantly surprised not only for the love letter to video games, but how Disney is slowly making progress towards some real representation of feminism. Here’s why.

    SPOILERS FOLLOW HERE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE MOVIE YET, DO NOT READ FURTHER.
    • I tend to hate movie trailers, as I find them either to misrepresent the film, or spoil stuff I’d rather be surprised on. (How many times has a film put its best jokes in the trailer, leaving only the so-so ones unspoiled?) It must suck for filmmakers to watch their films be marketed so deceptively. So what I noticed with the trailers for Wreck-It Ralph is that they made it seem that the film was entirely about the two male protagonists, Ralph and Felix, and the video game cameos. The two female protagonists, Vanellope von Schweetz and Sgt. Calhoun, have maybe a few seconds of dialogue in each trailer, though at least it’s obvious Vanellope is meant to be a major character. The trailers do misrepresent the film in this case, since there are four protagonists and one villain, and the cameos are just that: cameos. Seriously, marketers, would you knock it off with trying to conceal that films sometimes have women in them? I promise you, a film will not instantly fail if the Girl Alarm goes off. It’s ridiculously stupid that The Princess & The Frog was considered a failure just because it didn’t make as much as Alvin & The Chipmunks: The Squeakquel did, and the blame was placed on Tiana being a woman. It made over $260 million! THAT’S NOT A FAILURE! You know what IS a failure? A MOVIE WITH THE WORD ‘SQUEAKQUEL’ IN THE TITLE. Anyway. Moving on.
    • The script has two writers, Jennifer Lee and Phil Johnston. Hooray! A female screenwriter! And you can tell, since the two female protagonists are really well written. Sgt. Calhoun is my particular favourite, because she does not fall into a traditional gender role. Yes, she dresses in the traditional white wedding gown and veil for her wedding scenes, but for the rest of the time, she’s a no-nonsense butt-kicker. There’s a lot of speculation that she’s based on the female version of Commander Shepard from the Mass Effect series, and I can definitely see where that’s coming from. According to TV Tropes, Sgt. Calhoun was originally written as a male character, but Rich Moore thought that would be too boring. And he’s right! Commander Shepard is famously a character you can play as either male or female, but most (enlightened) people feel that “FemShep” is the better written and better voiced character. What both characters have in common is that they are tomboyish military geniuses in positions of leadership (They also shoot aliens a lot too, that’s important), and this is important because most military games (and first person shooters) are so very masculinized. A woman being a leader, especially in a traditionally masculine field like the military, is subversive – how far video games and films have come, but how far they still have to go. But kudos to the film for bucking tradition.
    Some racers from the Sugar Rush world at the starting line
    • Speaking of tomboys, Vanellope van Schweetz contrasts with her origin game, Sugar Rush, in a very interesting way. Now, notice that Sugar Rush is explicitly a game meant for girls – it’s pink, it’s cutesy, it’s got an almost entirely female roster of players. (King Candy being one of the few males, and not matching the other character designs, is your first clue that he doesn’t really belong there) I see the representation of Sugar Rush as an affectionate parody of how games for girls tend to be designed. My favourite console of all time is probably the Nintendo DS, and anyone who owned that system knows how frustrating many of the “shovelware” games were, most of which were cheaply made games meant for girl players. How can you tell they were for girls? Why, because they were about fashion, shopping, weddings, babysitting, cute pets, and cooking! (Gag.) Anyway, getting back to Sugar Rush, what sets this game apart from other traditional “girl games” is that it’s obviously meant to be really good. And I won’t lie, of all the original games written for this movie, Sugar Rush is the one I wanted to play the most. It’s also a little subversive in the gender role department in that it is a racing game. Some girls like cars too, whoda thunk it?
    • To get into Vanellope’s character, notice how very casual she is compared to the others. Her only real indication that she’s from a candy world is that she’s got a bunch of candy stuck in her hair. This is why she initially appears as an outcast – she’s not traditionally feminine like the others, nor is she explicitly candy-themed. But she loves racing just as much as the others, and not only (re)learns how to race, but how to manipulate her glitching to give her a distinct advantage. At the end, when it’s revealed she’s actually Princess Vanellope, the true ruler of Sugar Rush, she’s regenerated in a poofy pink dress and crown. It’s typical that a girly game like Sugar Rush WOULD have a Princess character. Then she does possibly the most subversive thing I’ve ever seen from a Disney film: She rejects the Princess label. She takes the dress off, saying that her tomboyish outfit with the green hoodie is the real her, and that she’d rather be President than Princess. Now what this is saying is that she’d rather be the leader based on her own merits, not on her birthright (or marriage). And that it’s pretty silly for her still to be a Princess when there’s obviously no King or Queen in the game. And think of it. A Disney film has a character who says she DOESN’T want to be a Disney Princess.
    Ralph at the support meeting for video game villains
    • Another thing I liked in the film is that the gamer in the arcade is shown to be a young girl. Hell. Yeah. And not only that, she has a genuine interest in ALL the games in the arcade, not just the girly ones like Sugar Rush. In fact, she doesn’t even get to play it because there are two teenage boys hogging the game and planning to play it all day. Gee, teenage boys not letting a girl play a video game with them, where have I heard that before? Actually, come to think of it, teenage/adult males usurping entertainment explicitly meant for young girls, where have I heard THAT before? *coughcoughBroniescoughcough* But this same girl plays a retro game like Fix-It Felix Jr., and the modern FPS Hero’s Duty, in the same afternoon. This shows that female gamers play games of ALL types, not just the games designers (and their intended male customers) “think” we should be playing. And they make it clear that the female gamer is a regular at the arcade. How I wish there was an arcade near me that I could be a regular at. It was an obvious choice made by the filmmakers to have the gamer be depicted as female, and it’s such a breath of fresh air because almost every other media depicting video games almost always assumes that the player is male. We exist, people! Get over it already! (And while you’re at it, stop calling us Gamer Girls. The sexist moniker is one instance where alliteration is not welcome)
    • The relationship between the male and female protagonists is also fairly interesting. Ralph and Vanellope are the two main leads, but explicitly do NOT have a romance. At any rate, he’s more than twice her age, so that’d be really gross. What they have is a platonic friendship that has a big brother-little sister dynamic. Hey, a platonic friendship between a male and a female, imagine that! Now, the second leads, Felix and Sgt. Calhoun, DO have a romance. But this is another interesting depiction of male/female relationships, because Felix is almost kind of feminine in contrast to the almost masculine Sgt. Calhoun. Once again, we get a rejection of traditional gender roles. What is also important is how their attraction to each other also defies tradition – Felix is attracted to her almost instantly, marveling at her “high definition” graphics. And, of course, Sgt. Calhoun does not meet the standard definition of beauty. (Apparently she has an impossible hourglass figure, but I didn’t notice it – I do not always have my feminist film critic goggles on) At any rate, Felix likes her anyway, AND appreciates her determination, resourcefulness and mastery of her job. She likes him because he’s kind and caring, and does not mind that she’s almost twice his size. Women dating shorter men is STILL a social taboo for some reason, as if a person’ height has anything to do with what kind of personality they have. So hey, well done once again, movie.
    Ralph offers some Pac-Man food to homeless video game characters
    • Now as I mentioned earlier, the movie does have a few flaws. We don’t get a Bechdel Test pass, but there is some justification plotwise for this, since each pair of protagonists (Ralph and Vanellope, Felix and Sgt. Calhoun) has their own side story that run parallel to each other right up to the end. Of course, passing the Bechdel Test does not determine if a film is good (and vice versa), nor does it immediately indicate whether a film is feminist or not. EDIT: seaofkittens has rightly pointed out that Vanellope and the other racers (mostly Taffyta) DO have conversations during the second act and the finale. So we do get a Bechdel Test pass, hooray!
    • There are also no racial minorities in the main cast at all, we can only count some minor speaking parts – the black General at the end of the Hero’s Duty game, who only appears in one scene, and if we consider the cameo characters from Japanese games to be “minorities.” That’s kind of inexcusable, movie. This is unsurprising given that it’s a kid’s movie, but there’s also no LGBTQ representation in the movie’s characters. However, we do have LGBTQ representation in the cast via the casting of Jane Lynch as Sgt. Calhoun. (Who was obviously always meant to play her since she looks just like her) And, once again, the main character is a white guy. He’s technically not a human, but he’s still white and he’s still a dude. The script is original, but it’s not really funny. The only time I laughed out loud was the bit with the Oreos doing the Winkie chant from The Wizard of Oz. They also spent way too much time in the Sugar Rush game (something like 2/3rds of the movie) – I would have liked to see other game locales. 
    • EDIT: A commenter reminded me that there is one scene in the 2nd act that is meant to be funny but is really very offensive. When Sgt. Calhoun and Felix are trapped in the quicksand, Felix persuades Calhoun to repeatedly hit him in order to make the Laffy Taffy vines laugh so hard they can be used to stretch out of the quicksand. Look, Disney, domestic abuse isn’t fucking funny. It doesn’t matter that he asked her to do it, it doesn’t matter that it’s a woman abusing a man (in fact, normalization of woman-on-man domestic abuse is a huge societal problem), and it doesn’t matter that he can instantly heal the effects. Your audience is young children, and they’re learning that a woman repeatedly physically abusing her soon-to-be-husband is not only acceptable, but funny. Don’t tell me that “woman beats the crap out of man” was the only possible solution to getting out of the quicksand.
    • Offensive domestic abuse jokes aside (let’s have a director’s cut excising that scene), it’s a very well made film, and fellow gamers like myself are basically going to geek out the entire time, so I do recommend it, albeit with some caution. Presuming that there will be a sequel, I really hope they include some minority characters in the cast next time, and never ever include a domestic abuse joke again. It’s 2012, we can do better than this.
    Myrna Waldron is a feminist writer/blogger with a particular emphasis on all things nerdy. She lives in Toronto and has studied English and Film at York University. Myrna has a particular interest in the animation medium, having written extensively on American, Canadian and Japanese animation. She also has a passion for Sci-Fi & Fantasy literature, pop culture literature such as cartoons/comics, and the gaming subculture. She maintains a personal collection of blog posts, rants, essays and musings at The Soapboxing Geek, and tweets with reckless pottymouthed abandon at @SoapboxingGeek.

    Women and Gender in Musicals Week: Despite an Intelligent Heroine, Sexism Taints Disney’s ‘Beauty and the Beast’

    This review by Megan Kearns previously appeared at Bitch Flicks as part of our series on Animated Children’s Films.

    An intelligent, strong-willed, female protagonist. Who reads books. And seeks adventure. With a heroine like Belle, Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, must be a feminist-minded film. Right?? At first, I thought so too. But appearances can be deceiving…

    Hailed by critics as a touching romance and one of the greatest animated films ever made, Beauty and the Beast became the first animated movie to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar. When I watched it in the theatre years ago, I too fell under its spell, seduced by its lush animation, whimsical tunes and of course Belle.

    It felt refreshing to see an intelligent, outspoken, animated heroine who loved to read. Outspoken and loved books? I was outspoken and loved books! I saw myself in Belle. She was a misunderstood misfit, wanting “more than this provincial life” to which she had been born. I too felt like an outcast, yearning for adventure and freedom. We were kindred spirits.

    But it wasn’t until years later that I saw the crack in the veneer. As I got older and embraced myself as a feminist, I began to question things more diligently. Once you start to see sexism, you can’t NOT see it. Sadly, it’s everywhere, including children’s films. Actually it’s possibly most prevalent in children’s films, which often reinforce tired and oppressive gender roles and stereotypes. 

    Yes, Belle is intelligent, courageous, curious, opinionated…all the things I admire in female protagonists. Disney was painfully aware of the criticism against The Little Mermaid’s Ariel giving up her family, her life, hell even her voice all for a stupid prince. Linda Woolverton, Beauty and the Beast’s screenwriter, drew inspiration for Belle from tomboyish, book-loving, outspoken Jo in Little Women. Belle’s feisty independence heralded a new kind of Disney heroine, paving the way for Jasmine, Pocahontas and Mulan. And yes, we often see the world from her vantage point, another plus. Although the film begins and ends with the Beast, who also happens to go through the biggest transformation (literally and figuratively) in the film. Despite her awesomeness, there’s still a huge problem with Belle.

    Even though Belle possesses admirable traits, her merit still comes down to her looks. The Beast, Gaston, the villagers and the enchanted servants all exclaim she’s beautiful, gorgeous, pretty and “her looks have no parallel.” Girls and women should be valued for their intellect, skills and kindness. But no one in the movie is raving about Belle’s inner beauty. Not only is Belle stunning, which of course all Disney “princesses” must be, and white and thin (god we need some diversity in films). It’s her name. Her fucking name is “BELLE,” which in French means “beautiful!” Despite her intelligence and bibliophile ways, even her fucking name revolves around her looks. Once again, women are subjugated and reduced to their appearances. Disney says sure, it’s okay to be smart, bookish, even a weird outcast…as long as you’re pretty. Ugh. 

    In fact, the whole goddamn movie revolves around beauty. Symbols of beauty (mirrors and roses), permeate the film. Ironic since the intended moral of the fairy tale is looking past appearances to seek true inner beauty. But here’s the kicker. Beauty and the Beast would never have been made with a woman as a beast. Again reinforcing that yep, beauty is only skin deep…if you’re a dude. If you’re a woman, you’d best be gorgeous.

    The only other female characters in the movie are Mrs. Potts (I heart Angela Lansbury!), the wardrobe (who has no personality) and the French maid feather duster. A grandmotherly type and a sexpot. Of course Disney does their notorious matricide in the form of the protagonist’s mother either dead or non-existent. They demonize stepmothers and solely focus on both daughters’ and sons’ relationships with their fathers. Seriously, Disney, what the hell have you got against mothers?? And yep, I’m aware Mrs. Potts is Chips’s mother. Doesn’t count. Not only is she not Belle’s mother, she’s a fucking teapot for most of the film. Belle has no female friends, no mother, no sister, no female role model. The importance of female camaraderie and sisterly bonding remain absent from the film.

    Unlike many female characters in animated films (or annoying rom-coms for that matter), Belle isn’t looking to be rescued or waiting around for her prince. Two reasons that make Belle a feminist in Woolverton’s eyes. Belle rejects the sexist chauvinist Gaston and his numerous marriage proposals, finding him “boorish” and “brainless.” She wants more out of life than shining that jerk’s boots and popping out his babies. But Belle rebuffs one dysfunctional suitor for another.

    A cursed spoiled prince, the Beast imprisons Belle’s father, Maurice, for trespassing. When Belle comes to his rescue, she sacrifices her cherished freedom, for his release. As a “guest” prisoner in the castle, the Beast demands Belle attend dinner with him and forbids her from the West Wing. He screams and throws things at her, his selfish temper raging out of control. Oh, I forgot…the Beast is a romanticized tortured soul. So it’s okay if he’s an abrasive douchebag!

    Sure, the sympathetic Beast eventually becomes nicer, giving Belle access to his library and letting birds treat him like a bird feeder. And I do like that Belle and the Beast become friends first before falling in love, which rarely happens in fairy tales. Except for one teeny tiny thing. He’s her captor. Falling in love with the guy who imprisons you, holds you hostage, tells you when to eat, where to go and doesn’t let you see your family?! That’s not love. That’s Stockholm Syndrome, sweetie. 

     
    Poisonous messages about love and relationships plague Beauty and the Beast. Don’t worry, ladies…if you suffer and stick by him long enough, your man will change. Just be patient with a guy who’s controlling or abusive. In her lifetime, 1 in 4 women will suffer domestic violence. More and more teenage girls contend with dating violence. Love should not hurt. Ever. But this movie (and sooooo many others) insidiously tells girls that when they grow up, they should stand by their man. Even if he treats you like shit.

    I’ll admit Belle as a female character is a step in the right direction. She’s smart, stubborn, kind and ambitious. But Belle gives up her entire life to live forever in a castle with an asshat prince. What about her goals? Her dreams?? Oh that’s right. She becomes a princess! Yet another princess in the pantheon of princesses clogging up girlie-girl media.

    Films and books reinforce gender roles and with a lack of female characters, imply that girls and women don’t count. Out of Disney’s 51 theatrically-released animated movies, only 13 feature a female character as a protagonist (16 if you count co-protagonists), most of them princesses. Princesses only care about their clothes and hair. Their looks matter more than their personalities. It seems society would rather teach girls to obsess over their appearance and how to snag a man.

    Couldn’t Belle have opened up a bookshop/café or started a book drive or something?? When Belle sang about wanting “more than this provincial life,” I simply refuse to believe twirling around a ballroom in a pretty gown is what she had in mind.

    People might think I’m being silly or overreacting about a Disney movie. Fair enough. But I call bullshit. Listen, when we’re young, books, music, movies, TV shows, advertisements and even toys teach us gender roles and identity. Little boys pretend they’re kings or aspire to be president while little girls yearn not to lead like queens, but to be passive princesses. One film probably won’t have much impact. But when the same sexist messages repeat over and over and over and over…well, then it seeps in.

    I’m not going to lie. I still watch Beauty and the Beast, singing along to the songs. When I discovered Disney World was building a Beauty and the Beast themed restaurant and attraction, I admit I felt giddy with excitement. But look beyond the gorgeous animation, catchy show tunes and unique heroine.

    Sadly, you’ll see yet another fabulous film tainted by sexism, spreading toxic messages that reinforce damaging beauty norms, violence against women and suffocating gender stereotypes.

    Not all that glitters is gold. Unwrapping the beautiful package can sometimes yield an ugly core. 

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    Megan Kearns is a Bitch Flicks Staff Writer and Editor. She’s a feminist vegan blogger and freelance writer living in Boston. Megan blogs at The Opinioness of the World, a feminist vegan site she founded in 2010 which focuses on gender equality and living cruelty-free. She writes about gender and media as a Regular Blogger at Fem2pt0, a site uniting social issues with women’s voices. She’s also a podcast contributor to Feminist Magazine on KPFK radio, a weekly radio show, where she writes and performs her monthly Feminist Films segment. Megan’s work has also appeared at Arts & Opinion, Feministing’s Community Blog, Italianieuropei, Open Letters Monthly, A Safe World for Women and Women and Hollywood. She earned her B.A. in Anthropology and Sociology from UMass Amherst and a Graduate Certificate in Women and Politics and Public Policy from UMass Boston. You can follow all of Megan’s unapologetically opinionated thoughts — such as Leslie Knope’s awesomeness, the idiocy of anti-choice legislation, and where to find the best vegan doughnuts — on Twitter at @OpinionessWorld.

    Women and Gender in Musicals Week: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

    This review by Rebecca Cohen previously appeared at Bitch Flicks as part of our series on Animated Children’s Films.

    At first blush, a feminist reading of Disney’s 1937 classic Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs seems almost too obvious to bother with. Nearing its 75th birthday, the film naturally reflects the antiquated gender politics of its era. So we should expect nothing less than a passive female protagonist, completely helpless until she is rescued and married. It makes as much sense to criticize these outdated ideals as it does to abuse your 75-year-old grandmother when she wonders if you’ll ever be happy without a husband and children. Sometimes you just have to move on, right?
    Well, yes and no. Snow White is still of interest to feminist media critics for several reasons, not the least of which is the continued prominence of the main character in contemporary popular culture. In fact, Snow White’s image is almost as iconic as that of the Mouse himself in identifying the Disney brand. She is commonly featured in the hugely popular Disney Princess line of products aimed at young girls. There is no question that little girls today are still feeling the influence of Walt’s 1937 vision of feminine purity.

    And the film has exercised a less overt influence as well. As the first feature-length animated feature to come out of the Disney studio, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs established a formula for the Disney “princess movie,” as well as template for Disney storytelling which persisted for decades, and from which in many ways the studio is still trying to break free.

    At the core of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs are deeply conservative, specifically American values. Although “Snow White” is a German tale, and the setting of the movie is a vaguely medieval, vaguely European fantasy world, the heroine herself is decidedly American. The Wicked Queen isn’t exactly English, but her pronunciation is nevertheless distinctly aristocratic (Mid-Atlantic, perhaps?). Yet the sweet little princess sounds fresh out of Iowa – if a voice can possibly sound corn-fed, hers does.

    At every turn, Snow White embodies old-fashioned, small town American ideals. She helps a baby bird not just back to its nest, but back to its “momma and poppa” (because every creature should properly be part of a traditional nuclear family, of course). When she arrives at the dwarfs’ cottage in the woods, her first instinct is to clean up. She assumes, in keeping with traditional gender roles, that the children who live there must not have a mother. That’s the only possible way to explain how their house could be so dirty. Not only does she clean up the place, she enlists the help of the woodland fauna. Indeed, Snow White domesticates everyone and everything around her, spreading the conservative ideals of cleanliness, hard work, and unquestioning acceptance of the status quo even to the animals. She civilizes the dwarfs as well, refusing to feed them until they’ve washed up.

    Snow White quickly takes on all the tasks of a wife/mother, cooking and cleaning, staying home and baking pies (as all-American as you can get!), while the little men go off to work during the day. She transforms their cottage in the woods into an idealized suburban American household.

    Although Snow White is happy to civilize and suburbanize the dwarfs, it’s clear that she longs for a stable heterosexual union with one man. Yet she remains perpetually passive and never takes steps to achieve that. She expresses what she wants through the song “Some Day My Prince Will Come,” but of course even that is phrased passively; he will come to her, someday. She’ll just have to wait. Although, as princess, she has a rightful claim to the throne, she betrays no shred of ambition in that direction. In fact, the only active step she ever takes in trying to bring about her own happy ending is to make a wish upon the Witch’s “wishing apple.” And look where that gets her!

    Standing in contrast to Snow herself is her nemesis, the formidable Wicked Queen. The Queen embodies all the problems supposedly inherent when women occupy positions of power. She is vain and jealous, prioritizing insecurity about her looks above all other concerns. Surely she has a kingdom to run? Yet we never see her do anything except plot to kill her stepdaughter. The Queen’s imposing beauty is directly contrasted to Snow White’s childish innocence. The Queen is commanding, sophisticated, worldly – in short, dangerous.

    The Queen is even something of an intellectual. When she disguises herself as a crone, she does so in a laboratory-like dungeon replete with test tubes, flasks and burners, not to mention shelves lined with books. She’s certainly the only character in the film ever seen reading a book. And her final attempt to kill the dwarfs involves use of a lever device, with which she tries to dislodge a boulder and crush them. But her resourcefulness and application of basic physics are to no avail. It’s no coincidence that her cleverness is foiled by a lightning bolt, a stroke of random luck. This anti-intellectualism is of a piece with the conservative American values suffused throughout the film.

    Although Snow White’s passivity is evident, it’s notable that the only really effectual character, the Prince, is barely a character at all. He appears in two scenes and has maybe three speaking lines. In truth, he barely participates in the story, except to sweep in at the very end and wake the princess, after all the story action has already transpired. The movie isn’t at all about him or his ability to affect events. The dwarfs play a more prominent role and are constantly active, but they are essentially children – well meaning but utterly ineffective. It’s neither their agency nor their competence that wins the day. Rather it’s their essential goodness and perhaps more important, simplicity.

    In the end, neither Snow White nor the Dwarfs ever question the feudalistic system that could allow an evil and dangerously shallow monarch to wield so much power over their lives. They simply live their lives by traditional values, and providence rids them of the unnaturally empowered female, replacing her with a wholesome heterosexual couple. This outcome is where Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs is at its most fundamentally conservative. Through kindness, humility and the observance of traditional gender roles, our heroes ultimately triumph over evil, without ever having to question the system that let evil get the upper hand in the first place.

    ———-
    Rebecca Cohen is the creator of the webcomic “The Adventures of Gyno-Star,” the world’s first (and possibly only) explicitly feminist superhero comic.