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Monsters and Morality in ‘Maleficent’

At its core, ‘Maleficent’ rewrites the morality tale that we all know. Instead of showing us that there is good and there is evil and never the twain shall meet, it tells us that sometimes people do bad things because they are hurt or scared but if they show remorse, realize the error of their ways, and act in ways that show love or kindness–they can be redeemed.

Spoiler Warning

Maleficent seems to be part of a growing trend to retell fairy tales in a way that complicate their morality lessons. For those that don’t know, the character of Maleficent is based on a classic Disney villain that first appeared in Sleeping Beauty. The original depiction of Maleficent is monstrous; in my opinion she was one of the most terrifying villains aimed at young children that Disney has produced. In the original she is an extraordinarily powerful evil fairy. She takes offense at not having been invited to Aurora’s christening and so as her birth gift curses the child to prick her finger on a spindle and die. The three good fairies are only to mitigate the curse so that Aurora would fall into everlasting sleep instead of dying.

Movies like Maleficent and shows like Once Upon a Time have complicated the notions of good in evil. In these types of stories we are given a view that Evil is not simply birthed, it must be created and can come down to the different ways in which people react to trying circumstances. For example in Once Upon a Time, both Snow White and Regina face hardship from an early age. This shows us that what separates the two is that Snow is able to work through her pain and practice compassion, whereas Regina becomes fixated on vengeance and tallying up all the wrongs that have been done to her, further fueling her undying need for vengeance which creates a vicious cycle.

In Sleeping Beauty, we know nothing about Maleficent’s origins; she is just a proxy for the forces of evil. She does bad things because she is bad; there is no further analysis required. Her motivations are irrelevant–we are meant to think nothing could possibly justify the things she does. Maleficent serves to complicate what we know as evil. Instead of Maleficent simply being caricatured as the “mistress of all evil,” we are introduced to her as an innocent, young girl who is kind to strangers and and is concerned with looking after the other fairies. As she grows older, Maleficent becomes powerful and takes on the mantle of protector of her people–a role that she takes very seriously. She ends up leading the fairies into battle when the King of the humans comes to try and conquer them out of greed. In this version, Maleficent is portrayed as a woman with power who is also virtuous, at least until she is hurt very badly.

There is little development of Aurora the princess; she comes off as a very naive child, despite her circumstances, which force her to become somewhat self-reliant. In some ways while giving Maleficent her person-hood, the movie removes that from Aurora. She seems to be merely a plot device. While not ideal, I am OK with it in this context.

Generally, female fairy tale villains can be divided into two broad categories (obviously there are exceptions): vain sorceresses – think the Evil Queen in Snow White or women with power who are just evil for the sake of it. Aside from Maleficent, Ursula the sea witch also fits into this category as does the Queen of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland.

The subtext is of course that women with power are dangerous and cannot or should not be trusted. The hero or heroine of a fairy tale is often concerned with removing the evil woman from power and restoring the natural balance of things, so to speak. This is why reshaping these narratives is so necessary; it allows us to disrupt the common gendered tropes that exist in a way that has real power. It is nice that in this case the true evil is not a woman with power, but instead a man who has greed and ambition and is willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants, even if it means hurting the only person who has shown him kindness.

Maleficent’s downfall is love or sentimentality; her old human friend uses his relationship against her for his own personal ambitions and she is left bereft. She becomes hard and un-trusting because the violation she suffered was so traumatic. Angelina Jolie’s portrayal of Maleficent’s pain and loss at this point is quite poignant. Maleficent believes that she is doing her best for her people but she can no longer relate to them as she is not the carefree young girl that she was. At the same time it is love that redeems Maleficent when she falls deeply in maternal love with the object of her curse. She realizes that her pain and isolation have stopped her from truly being who she wants to be, and she will no longer let the man who assaulted her have that power over her anymore. There is something quite lovely about this; it tells us that yes, love can sometimes lead to hurt and betrayal, but it can also bring out the best in us. Love is an overarching theme in Maleficent, and one of the best moments comes when Prince Philip, who has met Aurora once, is unable to wake her with true love’s kiss. The good fairies are highly disgruntled, and for it seems to prove that love cannot exist. However when her own kiss wakes Aurora, she realizes that love comes in many forms, and it is not always a lie.

At its core, Maleficent rewrites the morality tale that we all know. Instead of showing us that there is good and there is evil and never the twain shall meet, it tells us that sometimes people do bad things because they are hurt or scared but if they show remorse, realize the error of their ways, and act in ways that show love or kindness–they can be redeemed. The contrast between Maleificient and the king is quite clear. Whereas Maleficent has been able to move on from her hurt through love, the king becomes consumed by his desire for vengeance; it becomes the only in thing in his life and that ends up making him the real evil and leading to his downfall. As far as fairy tales go, Maleficent is the most feminist retelling of one that I have seen in a long time.

Gaayathri Nair is currently living and writing in Auckland, New Zealand. You can find more of her work at her blog A Human Story and tweet her @A_Gaayathri.

Bitch Flicks’ Weekly Picks

Check out what we’ve been reading this week–and let us know what you’ve been reading/writing in the comments!

New Documentary “Anita” is a Powerful Look at Race, Work, and Scandal by Tiana Reid at Bitch Media

The Nonhuman Disney Princesses (Deconstructing Disney) by Corey Lee Wrenn at Human-Animal Studies Cinema

Why We Need More ‘Ugly’ People On TV by Lindy West at Jezebel

10 female directors you, and the Academy, should keep an eye on by Harriet Minter at The Guardian

MPAA Data Shows That Women Are Still The Majority of Moviegoers by Melissa Silverstein at Women and Hollywood

So…where’s Dolores Huerta’s movie? by Verónica Bayetti Flores at Feministing

Drop everything and take your kids to see ‘Divergent’ by Margot Magowen at Reel Girl

‘Gone With the Wind’ prequel starring Mammy may be a mistake by Ronda Racha Penrice at the Grio

Disney’s Missteps on “Alice in Arabia” Show the Need for Complex Muslim Characters on TV by Stephanie Abraham at Bitch Media

What have you been reading/writing this week? Tell us in the comments!

Love is an Open Closet Door in ‘Frozen’

Amanda did a brilliant queer reading of Elsa’s powers as a symbol of queer sexuality. While our fantastic commenters proposed additional, equally plausible readings, relating the treatment of Elsa’s powers to society’s fear and suppression of mental illness, disability, and even women as a whole, I think the queer reading deserves a little further exploration. Specifically, I want to look at the recurring motif of doors in Frozen.

Warning: Here be (mild-to-moderate) spoilers.

This weekend, I finally saw Frozen, and I loved every minute of it. I loved it for all the reasons everyone has been talking about, from its female-centered narrative to the subversion of Disney’s own tropes about love and romance. I especially loved that it was primarily a story about sisters. I adore stories about siblings, but it seems to me that I rarely see relationships between sisters taken as seriously in pop culture as brothers.

(Though maybe that’s because, as the middle of three very close-knit brothers, I have SO MANY FEELINGS about Sam and Dean Winchester.)

Our own Amanda did a brilliant queer reading of Elsa’s powers as a symbol of queer sexuality. While our fantastic commenters proposed additional, equally plausible readings, relating the treatment of Elsa’s powers to society’s fear and suppression of mental illness, disability, and even women as a whole, I think the queer reading deserves a little further exploration. Specifically, I want to look at the recurring motif of doors in Frozen.

The symbolism of doors is multifarious: entrances, beginnings, thresholds, transition (though after what happened last time I read as a Disney princess as trans* I’ll step back from explicitly reading Elsa as trans*) (even though I think it totally works) (and actually I really want to read her as a trans girl) (but I’ll leave it to my trans sisters to tease out the details).

Doors have a religious and supernatural element too. Think of the safety of home from the vampire, who can’t cross the doorway uninvited; the placing of the mezuzah on the doorway in Jewish tradition; Catholic ideas of Mary as a holy door.

Queer theory has found its doorways in its affinity with Victor Turner’s notion of liminality, though there’s a risk of theorizing queerness away into nothing if you take this too far. I am particularly taken by the idea of the doors in Frozen as closet doors. So, what happens if we read the film with this in mind?

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YwXff-i1fY”]

The song “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” is a heartbreaking portrait of three of Anna’s attempts to reach out to her sister over the years. As a five-year-old, as a pre-teen, and as an adolescent, Anna knocks on Elsa’s door but gets no response. In the very first verse, she sings, “Come out the door,” whereas by the final verse her urging has changed to “Just let me in.” If this door is indeed a closet door, Elsa is unable to do anything as simple as come out, because her parents’ fear of her queer sexuality has taught her that she must suppress it. Elsa internalizes her parents’ lesson that coming out is not an option, but she is equally unable to “let in” the sister who has never been inside the closet and indeed does not yet know of Elsa’s queerness.

And again, when the castle must be opened up for Elsa’s coronation, the opening lines of Anna’s joyful song “For The First Time in Forever” mention doors specifically:

The window is open, so’s that door
I didn’t know they did that anymore

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dOReid0vEwY”]

Elsa, however, refers to opening “the gate” rather than any doors, and she tells herself:

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel, put on a show
Make one wrong move and everyone will know

Her refusal of a man’s invitation to dance that night, while Anna accepts it, could be taken as indicative of a lack of interest in men at all. (Am I taking it too far if I find evidence of a straight woman’s puzzlement at her closeted sister’s lack of interest in men in Anna’s line, “Why have a ballroom with no balls?”!)

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6nnoWgbdvg”]

The symbol of the door is made most explicit in the delightful number “Love is an Open Door” – the third song in a row to open with a lyric about doors:

All my life has been a series of doors in my face

The brilliant thing about this song is how differently it plays on first watch versus how it plays when you know how the story will turn out. Like the proverbial length of a minute in the bathroom, it depends which side of the door you’re on. Played straight (forgive the pun), this is a song about the exciting opportunity of embarking on a new relationship. But there are also resonances of the importance of honest communication in the success of a relationship and the freedom of leaving the metaphorical closet – both of which become tinged with irony once you have seen the whole film.

Indeed, Elsa’s refusal to bless Anna and Hans’s marriage seems to Anna like the sour grapes of a closeted sister who resents the straightforwardness of hetero romance, but in truth it’s a piece of real wisdom that Anna will come to appreciate. And yet it also leads to Elsa’s unintentional, very public coming-out. She flees in shame, and succumbs to her sexuality in an almighty ballad that is (deliberately?) reminiscent of “Defying Gravity” from that Broadway show most susceptible to queer readings, Wicked.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moSFlvxnbgk”]

Let it go, let it go
Can’t hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door

– of the (now empty) closet, yes, but also of the open door that is love. Being out isn’t much good if you don’t have love in your life: ultimately, Elsa learns that love is the way to control her powers. It would be possible to do a fairly conservative reading of this – female queer sexuality is acceptable as long as it’s within the confines of a long-term monogamous relationship – but I think there’s a better reading available. Based on the fact that the love between sisters is at the heart of this film, the love that controls Elsa’s powers isn’t romantic love, but familial love: the kind of love that loves you for who you are, not in spite of it.

Frozen isn’t saying that queerness is only acceptable in certain kinds of relationship. On the contrary, its message is that love comes in many different forms, and we all of us – including women, and queer people, and people with mental illnesses, and people with disabilities, and everybody else – need to be loved for who we are, with the kind of love that opens closet doors.

Max Thornton blogs at Gay Christian Geek, tumbles as trans substantial, and is slowly learning to twitter at @RainicornMax. Excuse him while he gets back to writing polyamorous Anna/Kristoff/Hans slashfic.

Why Alex Russo Is My Favorite Fictional Female Wizard

The protagonist of Wizards is a girl who acts like girls really act: she has boyfriends and broken hearts, but isn’t overly boy-crazy or dependent on them; she’s curious and smart enough to ask questions when other people are telling her not to; and throughout the series she faces a lot of the struggles women really do face throughout their lives.

This cross-post by Katherine Filaseta previously appeared at her blog Complaining About Things I Like and appears as part of our theme week on Child and Teenage Girl Protagonists.

Disney is sort of objectively awful when it comes to feminism and people of color, so maybe my standards are low, but I firmly believe Wizards of Waverly Place is the best thing Disney has ever created. Disney’s girls are so often either defined entirely by their relationships to the men around them (see: almost every princess movie ever) or overwhelmingly peppy and ditzy (see: most female protagonists on Disney Channel), but not Alex Russo (played by Selena Gomez). The protagonist of Wizards is a girl who acts like girls really act: she has boyfriends and broken hearts, but isn’t overly boy-crazy or dependent on them; she’s curious and smart enough to ask questions when other people are telling her not to; and throughout the series she faces a lot of the struggles women really do face throughout their lives.

Throughout the series, Alex struggles very realistically with her biracial(/biwizard) identity and surpasses the low expectations set for her by her family, school, and the entire wizarding world. She is confident, witty and independent in a way that would make her an instant “hero” if she were a boy, but instead there is an entire post-series made-for-TV movie about how the things she likes most in herself are also the characteristics society is constantly telling her to repress. When this show first came out I had just graduated high school, and I aspired to be as strong of a woman as this fake TV character who was probably five years younger than me. The fact that Disney–the same company that demonstrates female characters’ femininity by making their wrists smaller than their eyes –created a female character this strong still amazes me.

Alex is the middle child of the Russo family, a half-Mexican/half-Italian half-wizard family whose behavior and use of magic is considered too mischievous for her to ever succeed in winning the competition she must have with her siblings to see who becomes the family wizard. Unlike her brother Justin, a hard-working student who always follows the rules, Alex often uses magic in a way that is referred to throughout the series as “selfish.” So selfish, in fact, that in the post-series movie Alex v. Alex, when she extricates the “bad” parts of her personality that make her “misuse magic” they join forces with another “bad” wizard to try to take over the world. Throughout the series these words–bad, selfish, misuse–are used to describe Alex’s behavior, but I don’t think they are quite accurate. Her younger brother Max is often “misusing” magic but doesn’t get chastised for it; it is simply written off as a boy just playing around. So what makes Alex’s curiosity different? She pushes limits to see what she can get away with, she experiments with spells just to see what would happen, and when the “bad” parts of her are isolated we see that she has a desire for power–but none of these seem like extraordinarily “bad” characteristics to me. Especially when you consider that she is constantly being told she is going to lose the wizard competition to her brother, after which point her powers would be taken away forever; any child in her situation would seize the opportunity to use magic as much as possible while they still can.

Alex also struggles with her biracial identity: She understands the importance of a quinceanera to her mother, but doesn’t feel enough of an attachment to her heritage to put up with wearing a frilly pink dress–or, as she puts it, “I love being half-Mexican and half-whatever he is, but look at all this stuff it’s girly and lame.” Throughout the course of the episode she manages to get out of having to wear the awful dress while still learning that sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do because they are important traditions to your family, for reasons you might not always understand. Alex and her brothers might not know how to dance the salsa, but they know how to eat it when their mom makes it–and sometimes that’s enough.

When presented with challenges, Alex hardly ever just gives up. Despite everyone telling her she can’t become the family wizard, when she finds a motivation to want to succeed (falling in love with another magical being), she pulls herself together and does everything she can to win. She doesn’t do well in school, and her principal and teachers are always explicitly telling her they don’t have any expectations for her, but when she finds a subject she really truly enjoys (art), she works incredibly hard to put together a mural. In “Justin’s Little Sister,” the children learn that genies are con artists who are always trying to outsmart wizards, to which Alex responds, “Well no genie can trick me; I’d make them wish they never met me.” All the men in her family respond to this confident assertion with annoyance and ask why she can’t be more like her brother. What girl with siblings can’t relate to her struggle?

In the end of the series, Alex shows everyone she is capable of way more than what they expected by winning the wizard competition with flying colors and getting to keep her powers. Post-series, she shows everyone they were wrong again, when even after winning the competition they still doubt her ability to responsibly handle magic. Even a children’s TV show is addressing the difficulties strong, successful women face: that when a woman surpasses all expectations by doing really well, her actual merits are still questioned. In fact, Alex’s family makes her feel so terrible about her success that she tries to solve the “problem” by removing her “bad” parts. In the end, she learns that this was the wrong decision and that even the “bad” parts of herself are actually making her a stronger woman–a fantastic end to a fantastic series. Wizards might be just a cheap rip-off of Harry Potter, but as far as girl wizards are concerned, I’ll take Alex Russo over Hermione any day.

Katherine Filaseta is a recent graduate of Washington University in Saint Louis whose life has somehow managed to become constantly split between the United States and India. She really likes Bollywood, education, feminism, the performing arts, and apparently children’s TV. Follow her on twitter and wordpress.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

‘Frozen’: Disney’s First Foray into Feminism

I was surprised by Disney’s latest animated film “Frozen”. I was sure it was going to feed us Disney’s standard company line about princesses and marriage and girls needing to be rescued all the time. I was wrong. Though the film still showcases impossibly thin, rich, white girls who are princesses, this isn’t a story about romantic love or some dude rescuing a damsel in distress. “Frozen” is a story about sisterhood and the power that exists inside young women.

Spoiler Alert

Frankly, I was surprised by Disney’s latest animated film Frozen. Even though it featured the voice of my beloved heroine Veronica Mars (or as she’s known in real life: Kristen Bell), I was pretty sure Frozen was going to feed us Disney’s standard company line about princesses and marriage and girls needing to be rescued all the time. I was wrong. Though the film still showcases impossibly thin, rich, white girls who are princesses, this isn’t a story about romantic love or some dude rescuing a damsel in distress. Not only does Frozen effortlessly pass the Bechdel Test within five minutes, it’s a story that’s centered around sisterhood and the power that exists inside young women.

The most important relationship in Frozen, the one that drives all the action, all the pathos, is that of Anna and her sister Elsa. The two of them love each other very deeply, but they struggle to connect. Snow Queen Elsa strives to protect her little sister from harm first by hiding her own amazing abilities to create/manipulate snow and ice and then by refusing to allow Anna to marry a man she’s only just met. Elsa has donned the mantle of big sister with a great deal of seriousness, including all the responsibility that comes with it. When Elsa’s powers are outed at court, Anna’s unflagging love and determination prompts her to go after her fleeing sister who holes up in a pristine snow castle. We learn that Elsa was right to protect her sister from a hasty marriage, which is a huge change from Disney’s traditional espousing of the myth of love-at-first-sight, but we also learn that Anna’s love and acceptance is the only thing that can save her reclusive sister.

In Frozen, female agency and power are paramount. Elsa has cosmically awesome winter powers (she should seriously consider a trip to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters). Anna, our heroine, is normal, which is a refreshing change of pace from most fantasy stories where the lead is imbued with a striking talent or birthright. Though Anna has no unique skills or magical powers, it is her compassion that makes her extraordinary. Anna’s personality makes her special because she never gives up, never questions her own capability, and never thinks she can’t do something. With her courage and conviction, Anna is the driving force behind all the film’s action. The male characters are mostly along for the ride, lending support or acting as obstacles to the true goal of the film: the reconnection of two estranged sisters.

Let’s talk a little bit about Elsa’s winter superpowers. From adolescence, Elsa and her parents fear her growing powers. Elsa seeks to control, minimize, and hide her powers. With the “swirling storm inside”, Elsa loses her grip on her carefully guarded secret and outs herself at her coronation party. After fleeing the scene, she sings, “Conceal. Don’t feel. Don’t let them know,” before declaring she’s going to, “Let it go.” (Full song below.)

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1DQYdcUB0eg”]

Elsa’s abilities that are connected to her emotions and mature with age are obviously a metaphor for her powerful sexuality, and I’d even go so far as to argue that Elsa and her family struggle with her queer sexuality, her parents even fearing that she would infect her younger sister. Yes, I think there is general discomfort around female sexuality in all its forms. However, Anna is blossoming sexually, and there is not the same stigma or fear surrounding it because her conventional hetero sexuality gravitates towards marriage to a prince. There is no male love interest for Elsa (despite Anna having two suitors). Elsa’s queer sexuality is so foreign that her subjects are horrified, and she must isolate herself, becoming a literal ice queen. While Elsa feels free to be honest with herself and to feel her feelings within her isolated castle, she does not believe acceptance is possible nor that she can be a part of normal society.

Elsa tries to scare Anna away and even accidentally hurts her in the process.

When Elsa accidentally strikes Anna with a shard of her ice powers, Anna’s heart becomes frozen, and only “an act of true love” can thaw it and save her from death. Everyone in the film assumes true love’s kiss will cure her, but, frankly, I had my fingers crossed (literally) that Elsa would have to kiss her sister to save her (platonically, of course). We were all wrong. It turned out that Anna had to perform the act of true love, keeping her firmly in the self-actualized role of heroine, making her own choices, taking action, and creating her own destiny. That’s an even better plot twist than I could have imagined! Anna’s act of self-sacrifice shows Elsa that acceptance is possible, that Anna knew about her dark secret and loved her anyway. They’re not saved by a man or romantic love. This is an act of true love between sisters, and that act saves them both. One word: beautiful.

Disney was clearly doing their feminist homework when they came up with Frozen. They created a story about young women that didn’t revolve around men, where family and sisterhood trump everything else, where two sisters save each other. They even have Kristoff ask Anna for consent before he kisses her, and the movie doesn’t end with a wedding. Disney still has to work on its depiction of impossible female bodies that are usually white. They need to start telling stories about regular girls and not just richie-rich princesses. They need to be more open and honest about their queer characters instead of hiding them under metaphor, but all in all, Frozen is a huge leap forward for Disney. I’m glad I went to see it. I’m glad I took my six-year-old niece to see it with me, and though their white skin and privileged lifestyle doesn’t match hers, I think Frozen imparted an important lesson about sisterhood, love, and acceptance that is invaluable to young girls everywhere.
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Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.

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.

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.

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Robin Hitchcock is an American writer living in Cape Town, South Africa. Disney movies are her favorite cold medicine, hangover cure, and anti-depressant.

Gender and Food Week: ‘The Princess and the Frog’

The Princess and the Frog (2009)

This guest post written by Janyce Denise Glasper originally appeared at Bitch Flicks as part of our series on Animated Children’s Films and as part of our series on Women and Gender in Musicals.

The Princess and the Frog is a Disney milestone for two reasons: it is the first hand-drawn animated motion picture from the company since 2004’s Home on The Range and features an African-American female heroine.

Also keep in mind that the last film co-starring a human princess was 1992’s Aladdin.

But hold that applause.

For these accomplishments mean little once the viewer realizes what is in store.

The poster of a pouting girl holding a frog amongst bugs, an alligator, and a snake amongst a dark, swampy background says it all. No cute fuzzy bunnies, kittens, or deer friends here.

Our characters: Tiana (originally to be Mamie–uh oh!), a two job hustling sassy twang lady with a lifelong dream of becoming a chef/owner of a fine restaurant. The leading man: disinherited, shallow, but very good looking, Prince Naveen. Tiana’s best friend since birth, Charlotte: a rich, apple-cheeked blond with ample curves to die for and a strange obsession with calling her sole parent “Big Daddy.” The villain: a top hat wearing, African mask collecting, voodoo havocking witch doctor with a smooth, seductive albeit evil voice, Dr. Facilier.

A bopping 1920’s New Orleans is where the story takes place.

The opening to the film was irking. After story time, little Charlotte demands a new dress and daddy begs Tiana’s mother to make her a new one. As the camera pans to several versions of the same pink dress, the kind black, very tired seamstress obediently obliges. Sadly, while she and Tiana leave, daddy spoils Charlotte’s silhouette with a puppy.

How cute!

Eye roll.

Tiana and her mom ride the bus back home- nice part of town disappears rather quickly. One does not need to mention where they have a home. Remember these are black people here.

Five minutes later, Tiana and Charlotte grow up.

(I must also state that I found Charlotte’s treatment of Tiana infuriating.)

At the café, Charlotte just throws all of her daddy’s money at Tiana and demands that she make a boatload of beignets for her Mardi Gras soiree–on that very night!

Inferiority complex is at play.

Charlotte and her daddy make Tiana’s family work like slaves even though they are paying for them. Much too docile and meek, Tiana and her mother take this dominating behavior and its sickening, even for an animated cartoon.

The plot thickens.

Tiana and Prince Naveen-turned-frog

Thinking her to be a real princess due to the tiara on her head, Prince Naveen-turned-frog begs for Tiana’s kiss. Unfortunately, she isn’t a princess at all. So after a slimy short make out session, she too becomes a frog.

Ah, how wonderful!

Arguing and swapping flies together, these two frogs embark on a journey in the wet, scary marshlands. The quest to finding their lost humanity is supposed to be funny, sweet, and somewhat romantic. Let’s not forget to mention there is a scene in which their long tongues get twisted in a style reminiscent of Lady and the Tramp’s infamous innocent spaghetti smooch. But that connection was due to a bug, not good old-fashioned Italian fare.

As Tiana and Prince Naveen search for the person who could make them “normal” by following a goofy alligator and a bug that is more friend than delicacy, the viewer quickly becomes annoyed and a tad bit infuriated.

By the near end, they are in love and willing to accept each other forever … as frogs!

When compared to the other Disney princesses, Tiana’s story is a bunch of BS. She didn’t have an evil stepfamily, eat a poisoned apple, have graceful legs instead of fins, receive many hours of beauty rest, or become a madmen’s “love” slave.

Does that make her luckier? I think not.

None of those women would wish to be a frog with long, batty eyelashes.

Nope. Not one.

After the green, jumpy lily pad life and having a grand night’s adventure in the bayou, our humanized heroine finally becomes a princess and a restaurateur. The end.

Feeling robbed?

Yes.

We all know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but this is a distasteful metaphor. It kind of makes one feel that all brown-skinned women are frogs and that in order to love them, one would have to be a frog too.

Other notable lowlights: blacks are put in their “respective” places–living in close-knit, modest shacks and taking overcrowded public transportation. As previously mentioned, submissive Tiana and her mother both work diligently for white people and Prince Naveen’s right hand white man transforms into Prince Naveen via Dr. Facilier’s powers. It would almost be a cry for demeaning blackface politics, except Prince Naveen is not a black man.

Loved that an upstanding, loving, appreciative father shared Tiana’s passion for cooking and inspired her ethic. So glad Disney didn’t go with that stereotype about black men being absent from their children’s lives…

Now, Tiana’s mother: only commendable when not complaining about Tiana needing to find a “prince charming” so that she could have grandbabies. Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora, Jasmine, Ariel, and Belle lacked motherly parenting, which added to their naïveté about men. Little fairies and godmothers are sweet and all, but the genuine love from a mother is a special, sacred bond often missing in Disney films.

As a strong, independent woman, Tiana knew that one does not sit on her butt talking to baby animals and making wishes on stars.

Oh wait, she did wish on a star! Damn.

Still, she dreamed big and worked from the ground up.

Now that is a character for little girls to be inspired by. Too bad Tiana was a frog for so long in the movie.

Overall, The Princess and the Frog is enjoyable for a few laughs, infectious moments, and the trademark watery eye sap. But it takes many steps–backwards, forwards, sideways. One wonders what this film is truly trying to accomplish.

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Janyce Denise Glasper is a writer/artist running two silly blogs of creative adventures called Sugarygingersnap and AfroVeganChick. She enjoys good female centric film, cute rubber duckies, chocolate covered everything (except bugs!), Days of Our Lives, and slaying nightly demons Buffy style in Dayton, Ohio.

‘The Last Unicorn’ Is The Anti-Disney Fairy Tale

DVD Cover Art for The Last Unicorn

Warning: Spoilers ahead

I was probably 6 or 7 years old the first time I saw The Last Unicorn. And while I thought it was pretty, I found it incredibly boring. It wasn’t until much later in my life that I rewatched it and understood why it was so boring to Little Girl Me – this is not a film for children, and never should have been marketed as such. Such is the major pitfall of an animated film – unless it explicitly says it’s pornography (and sometimes not even then – people are stupid), people assume it’s for children. What makes The Last Unicorn so special is it might be one of the most bittersweet and poignant fantasy movies ever made. It is the Anti-Disney film – everything that Disney fairy tales are not.

The characters are incredibly well fleshed out. They are deeply, deeply flawed. The Unicorn is proud (perhaps even vain), Schmendrick is overconfident, Molly Grue deeply regrets her lost youth, King Haggard is depressed to the point of selfishness, and Prince Lir does not know the difference between real heroism and pointless posturing. There are no sweet singing Princesses who can charm the forest animals here. The handsome Prince must learn how to be valiant, it does not come naturally to him. The virtues the characters value are the ones that are hardest to achieve – sacrifice, acceptance of mortality, acceptance of regret, and the twofold rush of joy and pain that being in love causes.
The content of the story is very adult. Other than one brief bizarre scene (more on that later), there is no comedy here. The mood is melancholy and lonely. Death is very clearly discussed, and even depicted once the Harpy kills Mommy Fortuna and her assistant, Rukh. The film’s depiction of a Harpy does not shy away from visual adult content, as she is shown to have three large and pendulous breasts with nipples. The Harpy’s breasts are not the least bit sexualized, they serve only to show that she is terrifying and female. The scene in which Schmendrick accidentally enchants a tree into coming alive and falling in love with him is also very adult in content, and almost seems like a Big Lipped Alligator Moment because it clashes with the rest of the film. The tree squishes Schmendrick against her enormous enchanted breasts, and it is clear that he does not find this predicament the least bit desirable. It is hard to determine what the film’s goal in depicting the two characters’ breasts this way was, but my best guess is that they wished to depict breasts as mere visual signifiers of a character being biologically female, not as physical targets of sexual desire.

Various scenes from the film

Dreams don’t come true. Yes, The Unicorn succeeds in her goal to free her fellow Unicorns, but to do so she had to give up her newfound mortality, and must live forever knowing regret, and remembering the love she once had. This taint of humanity even separates her from the other unicorns, as they would have no comprehension of human emotions such as these. The other characters don’t achieve their dreams either. Schmendrick does eventually prove that he is a talented magician, but clearly will never have true control over magic. Molly Grue has finally met her unicorn, and found second love with Schmendrick, but her youth and innocence are long since gone. Even King Haggard never truly achieved his dreams of genuine happiness, as he never gained control of all of the unicorns, and was otherwise miserable when he wasn’t looking at them.
The handsome Prince doesn’t get the girl. Lir’s love for Amalthea is such that he tells her not to give up on her quest in order to be with him, knowing that once she becomes a unicorn again she cannot stay with him. His love is also unrequited for a time, and is only reciprocated once The Unicorn forgets what she truly is and mentally becomes human enough to feel love. So, unlike in many Disney films, the “love at first sight” situation does not go nearly as smoothly. Their love for each other does not end once Amalthea becomes The Unicorn once more, but there is now no hope for them to marry. Both sadly accept that they are to be forever separated, which is even more painful for The Unicorn because she is the only one who will experience “forever.”
Molly Grue’s life story is a particularly sad and poignant one. As the commonlaw wife of an infamous outlaw known as Captain Cully, she has watched her youth fade, and become endlessly frustrated with having no money, no food, and endless mouths to feed. She is incredibly kind, but deeply dissatisfied with her lot in life. When she finally meets The Unicorn, she is enraged because, unlike in fantasy lore where the unicorn always comes to a beautiful young virgin, The Unicorn has come to her when she is middle-aged and, perhaps, sexually ruined. (Being the lover of an outlaw could not have done great things for her reputation.) “How can you come to me now, when I am this?” Molly bitterly asks her. This, I think, is a commentary on how fairy tales always seem to only value the young and innocent, and see women who are no longer young and virginal as corrupted, tainted, and worthless. The Unicorn, however, recognizes Molly’s incredible kindness, and, comforting her the best she can, tells her, “I’m here now.”

The Unicorn in her forest

The two antagonists of the story, Mommy Fortuna and King Haggard, contrast strongly with Disney villains in that they are very morally ambiguous. Mommy Fortuna is a powerful sorceress, who is one of the few humans who can recognize The Unicorn for what she is, rather than just as a beautiful mare. She uses illusions in her traveling caravan to give her patrons what they want to see, which is visions of terrifying mythical creatures. The Unicorn and The Harpy are the only real magical creatures she has captured. Mommy Fortuna knows that The Harpy will one day kill her, and, unlike Disney villains, is fully ready to embrace her fate and is unafraid of death. Her only desire is a perverted form of immortality – her body will die, but The Harpy will forever remember that it was Mommy Fortuna who captured her. King Haggard is even more morally ambiguous. He is not truly evil, but desperately depressed to the point where it has made him selfish. The sight of unicorns are the only things that give him joy, and make him recapture his lost youth. Unable to face life without knowing that his source of joy was available to him at any time, he instructed his pet, The Red Bull, to gather all the unicorns together and imprison them in the sea next to his castle. He has not done this for the sake of evil, but as an absolutely desperate attempt to cure his lifelong depression.
The themes of this story are incredibly abstract and deep. In most Disney films, you can generally glean themes about kindness, true love, achieving dreams, and conquering evil. Here, there are themes surrounding (im)mortality, regret, memory, lost love, tragic flaws, broken dreams, possessions, mental illness, revenge, and the very nature of human emotions. This is not a happy movie. It is bittersweet, at best, even though things turned out as well as they could have without there being a deus ex machina to solve everything. It is and never was intended to be a movie for children. It’s a movie for teenagers and adults who have already heard all the fairy tale cliches, and want something that will make them think rather than something that might give a superficial emotional catharsis. This movie made me incredibly sad, but it might possibly be one of the greatest animated fantasy films ever made.

Disney Buys Star Wars: A New Hope for Women and Girls

Disney logo with Death Star

Last week, one of the only news items to penetrate the horrifying coverage of Hurricane Sandy’s devastation and the nerve-wracking anticipation for the US Elections was the surprising, perplexing, but exciting news that Disney was buying Lucasfilm and planning to release Star Wars Episode VII in 2015. It was like a shot of adrenaline to this weary geek’s heart.

The Five Stages of Disney’s Buyout of Lucasfilm: 1) Denial. 2) Angst. 3) Cautious optimism. 4) Futility. 5) Resignation.
— Eric S. Donaldson (@EricJokes) October 31, 2012

Like every geek, I’m riding the wave of emotions that comes with this news, with renewed “no, there is another” hope for new GOOD Star Wars movies, and anxiety that those hopes will be dashed yet again (I mean, think about what the word “Disneyfication” means.) As a feminist geek, there’s a whole additional layer to conflicted feelings about Disney buying Star Wars: what does this mean for women?

The Opportunity for Women to Take Creative Control of Star Wars

Enormously successful female film producer Kathleen Kennedy is now president of Lucasfilm and “brand manager” of Star Wars after the sale to Disney. A woman is now in charge of Star Wars. I don’t know about you, but I’m hearing a chorus of angels sing.

And then an abrupt record scratch, because it’s a naïve fantasy to suppose that having a woman executive produce the new Star Wars films will meaningfully shift the gender balance of the larger creative team. A quick overview of Kennedy’s credits on IMDb confirm that she’s mostly helped bring male voices to the screen, and a very discouraging (although unsourced and hopefully entirely dubious!) quotation in her personal trivia section has a very “binders full of women” tone:

But what I always find interesting is when you take the areas of writing, producing and directing. I don’t think there’s a great deal of discrimination — although I’m completely perplexed and confused as to why there aren’t more women. For instance, if we’re looking for new, young directors, which is something we do all the time, we certainly never go look at films because they’re directed by a man or a woman. We look at films because they are winning awards, they’re good, and it has nothing to do with gender. And women certainly have equal opportunity to get into a university like UCLA or USC, to get into the film department, to take the same courses to allow them to make films, to deal with a whole gamut of subject matter, and yet I don’t know what happens. There’s something that happens in the process of getting there that seems to turn many women away. – Kathleen Kennedy [Oh, bugger, here’s the source.]

But the fact remains that a woman now controls Star Wars, and moreover the door is now open for new writers, directors, and other producers to step into the Star Wars franchise, and a lot more diversity in the creative team continuing the franchise is now a possibility.

Gender Neutral Kids Entertainment or the Entrenchment of the Girl’s Ghetto?

Disney Princess Leia

My childhood pretty much exactly coincided with the Disney Renaissance, so even though the Disney Princess marketing machine hadn’t fully sprung to terrifying life, I was pretty obsessed with Disney’s lineup of plucky heroines. I foolishly assumed they were a cultural touchstone for everyone in my generation, until I was in college and went on a date with a guy who had only brothers, who said he’d never seen an animated Disney movie. “I always thought that was just girl stuff,” he said.

While the Disney Princesses (and the Disney Fairies) get a lot of direct-to-video content and toys, the feature films branch of Disney seems desperate to get that somehow-more-valuable BOY MONEY. First they bought Pixar, which made animated kids movies untainted by the “girl stuff” smear (this year’s Brave was the first Pixar film with a female protagonist). Then Disney acquired Marvel’s film division, and went about developing films for even pretty obscure male Marvel superheroes while leaving the women to Smufette-y supporting roles (Though I’m still holding out hope for a She-Hulk adaptation, which could be the brilliantly postmodern Gremlins 2: The New Batch-style answer to the Avengers mega-franchise.) And while Disney Animation Studios still creates princess-centered features like The Princess and the Frog and Tangled, they alternate these pictures with more boy-appealing fare like Wreck-It Ralph. It’s easy to worry that Disney has cut its losses with girls, figuring they are only valuable viewers once they’re old enough to obsess over sci-fi/fantasy young adult novels with love triangles.

But while Disney Princess Leia was just an amusing meme for most of us, for me, it was a signal of hope that Disney buying Star Wars could help blur the distinction between “boy stuff” and “girl stuff” when it comes to children’s entertainment. Bitch Flicks’ Megan Kearns’s excellent feminist character analysis of Princess Leia demonstrates that while the original Star Wars trilogy was extremely limited in its portrayal of women and fell into some harmful tropes with its central female character, what it got right about Leia, it got VERY right.

I firmly believe Star Wars is the cultural juggernaut that it is because it captures young girls’ imaginations as well as young boys’, largely in part because of the dynamic character of Princess Leia. And given their history of creating female-centric (albeit sometimes problematic) entertainment, and despite recent moves away from that niche, Disney may be the best production company to capitalize on that aspect of Star Wars‘ appeal when making the next trilogy.

The next Star Wars films could bring us more than one—seriously, I swear it is possible—dynamic female character. We might even see a woman as the central figure in the next trilogy. Those oh-so-valuable boys will still be bought and payed for by the Star Wars name and universe. In this brave new world where a “Disney Princess” is a diplomat who carries a blaster, the new Star Wars films might finally break us of gender-segregating our children’s entertainment.

‘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.