Click to read my introduction to this series, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, and Part 8.
Moving right along from 1996's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, we have Hercules from the very next following year. For the nineties being the era of "girl power" and for there being so much focus from Disney on giving different traits to the princesses (Ariel's spirit, Belle's intelligence, Mulan's physical abilities, etc.), the decade also brought plenty of male characters to the Disney bunch. And that's good: we need both the guys and the gals with all their good traits in fiction and in life.
I would make a comment about how the emphasis with Hercules on physical strength is different from the emphasis for the princesses, except that Mulan came out the following year and Mulan also went through fight training to become her own type of hero. Interestingly, Mulan and Hercules start off on flip sides. Hercules, though he becomes stronger, starts off already physically strong; his journey is learning what it is to be a real hero. Mulan already knows what it is to be a hero: that's what drove her to take her father's place in the war--her journey was more physical, in learning how to push herself to learn a new type of skill set.
Hercules starts off a little blind. Hopefully that isn't too much of a stereotype there, but then again, his story is just a hero's journey story, so it's all archetype, anyway. Stereotype, archetype, what's the difference, after all? Hercules is born to the highest place, even higher than princesses like Aurora and Snow White. He isn't a prince; he's a god, the son of Zeus, born to live on Mount Olympus. Like Maleficent with Aurora, the actions of Hades cause Hercules to grow up away from his royal birthright. Also like Aurora, even living as a common person isn't enough to disguise Hercules.
He stands out. Born inherently strong, Hercules remains physically strong even down on earth. He didn't have to work for this strength like Mulan did; he just has it. And he doesn't know how to use it. He wants to help but all he does is make a mess of things, even physically knocking over the whole town center. Like so many at the start of their journey, he feels out of place and longs for something more. Hercules feels like he's supposed to be somewhere else--which is quite true. He isn't just Cinderella looking longingly at the castle before she starts her day of work; he truly was born to live up in the sky instead of down on earth. So that makes sense. But notice what else he dreams of. Not just of belonging but also of cheering crowds. Therein lies the problem: Hercules is just a young person dreaming about fame and acceptance. Even when he says, "I would go most anywhere to feel like I belong," he doesn't truly understand where "anywhere" will be and what he will have to do to gain what he seeks.
When Zeus tells him that he must become a hero to regain his status as an immortal, Hercules is, like a young person once more, excited and eager. He promises not to let Zeus down and now sings that he will "face the world, fearless, proud, and strong." Yet he's still seeking a "hero's welcome." He sings about being fearless and strong without realizing yet what strength is.
Even when he trains with Phil, Hercules learns strength, agility, and technique. But he's still just that same young man, only with an ego now to replace his awkward feeling back at home. He thinks that now that he can control his strength, everyone will finally love him. His first encounter saving Meg goes awkwardly and he oddly introduces himself as a hero in Thebes, only to receive laughter in response. And even when he does help them? What does he say then? "I did great--they even applauded." He still has the wrong focus.
When Hercules talks to Zeus again, what does he tell him? That he's beaten everyone he's fought and that he's famous. Zeus didn't ask him to fight anyone or to become famous; he asked him to become a hero. It is only at the end, when Meg gives him a reason to think of someone else before himself, that Hercules finally acts out what Zeus has been hinting at. Diving in to save Meg from death's grip even at risk to his own life, Hercules finally achieves his immortality. As Zeus says, "a true hero isn't measured by the size of his strength but by the strength of his heart." Being able to fight had nothing to do with it.
And did you notice? By the time the crowds did cheer for him, Hercules no longer cared about receiving their cheers. He was just focused on Meg by that point. A hero doesn't seek glory for himself. Very classic journey there.
Showing posts with label The Disney Boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Disney Boys. Show all posts
Monday, March 19, 2018
Wednesday, March 7, 2018
The Disney Boys: Part 8 - Quasimodo
Click to read my introduction to this series, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, and Part 7.
I don't entirely know how Disney managed to make 1994's The Hunchback of Notre Dame a G-rated movie. Following off of The Lion King's Hamlet themes, this film took on Victor Hugo's quite serious novel. It shows Frollo creeping after Esmeralda, Frollo almost drowning a baby, Frollo setting a house on fire with a whole family inside, the crowd tying up Quasimodo at the Festival of Fools, etc. I don't say this as a criticism; in fact, I admire the fact that Disney managed to make a G movie while still including all of this (and people say that Disney doesn't show the dark side of life). That was quite a feat--and when I watch this movie, I start to wonder why I don't usually think to add it to my top Disney films.
But we're supposed to be focused on just one character here, right? And therein probably lies the reason why, despite being such a good film, there isn't much Hunchback merchandise available at the Disney Store. The protagonist is Quasimodo, the "half-formed," the "monster," the one so "hideous" that the world can't accept him. While the Disney princesses are all supposed to be beautiful and even the Disney boys, if their physical looks are mentioned, are generally understood to be good-looking, as well. So the fact that Quasimodo is intentionally "not easy on the eyes" is different and great--even if it means that we really are materialistic because nobody buys Quasimodo merch.
The film sets up deep themes beautifully, right from the start. Clopin sings about the riddle of "who is the monster and who is the man." Though Quasimodo has the rough exterior that Frollo says no one will accept (and in most cases, he's kind of right) and Frollo is the one "accepted" by society because he's a public official, Quasimodo is the one with a good exterior and Frollo is not. If you didn't get the theme in Beauty and the Beast about physical appearances not mattering, you get it now.
The first time we see Quasimodo's face is when he is reaching out into the light and speaking gently to the baby bird, helping him to fly. So even though we've been warned that his face won't look "normal," we see that he is a kind person.
He's also obedient. He trusts Frollo to a certain degree and he tries to listen and obey (he's afraid to defy him by going to the Festival) because he wants to be content in his lot and repay Frollo for rescuing him. Their relationship isn't entirely unlike Rapunzel and Mother Gothal. Gothal similarly tells Rapunzel that she wouldn't be able to survive in the world outside; both figures are just using their charges while keeping them in line with threats disguised as love and care.
The interesting thing about Quasimodo's desire to leave his tower is that it isn't self-centered. When he looks down at the city, he notices every person in it. He notices enough details about them to carve them all, recognizably, out of wood. He doesn't want to go out there to see what he can be; he wants to go out there to meet all of them and be with all of them. Think about it. Even in his tower, he does his best to interact with the statues and the birds and the bells, to give them names and identities and to look after their needs. This is why, when he gets pulled into the plight of the gypsies, he chooses to help them.
I'll take a moment here to point out that, while his face may not be what the world looks for, Quasimodo is as fit as any other Disney gent, right up there with Tarzan and Wreck-It Ralph (maybe Hercules has them all beat since he's, you know, a god). So used to swinging around taking care of the bells, he can leap from rooftops, too, even while carrying Esmeralda and her goat. And he so easily bests Phoebus, lifting him up off the ground without even realizing it. While we may not have control over what our faces look like (well, assuming plastic surgery doesn't exist), we do have control over the fitness of our bodies (well, assuming no conditions or illnesses that would prevent this--and I admit there are quite a few).
Quasimodo finally realizes that Frollo really has been lying to him when he sees the shadow of the knife on the wall. And it is so easy for him to get the better of Frollo, this man who has held him down for twenty years. All he had to do was say no, you have no power over me and I won't let you get away with this any longer. And he doesn't go at Frollo with revenge exactly, either: it is Frollo who, in saying his line about expunging the wicked, sentences himself to the justice of his death.
And what Quasimodo comes out of this whole experience with is more kindness and graciousness. Even though he liked Esmeralda, he sees that she likes Phoebus and not him and that Phoebus likes her; so Quasimodo puts their hands together, telling them that it's okay, he's happy to see that his two new friends are happy together. He's just glad to have made friends outside of the tower for once; he knows that there are more important things than "getting the girl." (And if you watch the sequel, which isn't half-bad for a sequel, he does get the girl, though of course it isn't Esmeralda.)
When the city cheers for Quasimodo and what he has done to help the people, their cheers show that looks no longer matter. They don't see his face anymore; they see his face, that is the face of the person who has done good for them. The inside works its way out--and that is what you wear on your face, whether you are considered "beautiful" or not. Especially with our current society love of considering ourselves beautiful (I get that you shouldn't believe that you're ugly and that you should have a positive self-esteem, but there is too much obsession with physical appearance and self-love), I greatly admire this theme of placing the emphasis back on the actions. So even if Quasimodo would probably never win as the favorite Disney character (would anyone name his as their favorite?), he might actually be the best one, in the sense of the whole role model thing that we're looking at in these two series of posts.
I don't entirely know how Disney managed to make 1994's The Hunchback of Notre Dame a G-rated movie. Following off of The Lion King's Hamlet themes, this film took on Victor Hugo's quite serious novel. It shows Frollo creeping after Esmeralda, Frollo almost drowning a baby, Frollo setting a house on fire with a whole family inside, the crowd tying up Quasimodo at the Festival of Fools, etc. I don't say this as a criticism; in fact, I admire the fact that Disney managed to make a G movie while still including all of this (and people say that Disney doesn't show the dark side of life). That was quite a feat--and when I watch this movie, I start to wonder why I don't usually think to add it to my top Disney films.
But we're supposed to be focused on just one character here, right? And therein probably lies the reason why, despite being such a good film, there isn't much Hunchback merchandise available at the Disney Store. The protagonist is Quasimodo, the "half-formed," the "monster," the one so "hideous" that the world can't accept him. While the Disney princesses are all supposed to be beautiful and even the Disney boys, if their physical looks are mentioned, are generally understood to be good-looking, as well. So the fact that Quasimodo is intentionally "not easy on the eyes" is different and great--even if it means that we really are materialistic because nobody buys Quasimodo merch.
The film sets up deep themes beautifully, right from the start. Clopin sings about the riddle of "who is the monster and who is the man." Though Quasimodo has the rough exterior that Frollo says no one will accept (and in most cases, he's kind of right) and Frollo is the one "accepted" by society because he's a public official, Quasimodo is the one with a good exterior and Frollo is not. If you didn't get the theme in Beauty and the Beast about physical appearances not mattering, you get it now.
The first time we see Quasimodo's face is when he is reaching out into the light and speaking gently to the baby bird, helping him to fly. So even though we've been warned that his face won't look "normal," we see that he is a kind person.
He's also obedient. He trusts Frollo to a certain degree and he tries to listen and obey (he's afraid to defy him by going to the Festival) because he wants to be content in his lot and repay Frollo for rescuing him. Their relationship isn't entirely unlike Rapunzel and Mother Gothal. Gothal similarly tells Rapunzel that she wouldn't be able to survive in the world outside; both figures are just using their charges while keeping them in line with threats disguised as love and care.
The interesting thing about Quasimodo's desire to leave his tower is that it isn't self-centered. When he looks down at the city, he notices every person in it. He notices enough details about them to carve them all, recognizably, out of wood. He doesn't want to go out there to see what he can be; he wants to go out there to meet all of them and be with all of them. Think about it. Even in his tower, he does his best to interact with the statues and the birds and the bells, to give them names and identities and to look after their needs. This is why, when he gets pulled into the plight of the gypsies, he chooses to help them.
I'll take a moment here to point out that, while his face may not be what the world looks for, Quasimodo is as fit as any other Disney gent, right up there with Tarzan and Wreck-It Ralph (maybe Hercules has them all beat since he's, you know, a god). So used to swinging around taking care of the bells, he can leap from rooftops, too, even while carrying Esmeralda and her goat. And he so easily bests Phoebus, lifting him up off the ground without even realizing it. While we may not have control over what our faces look like (well, assuming plastic surgery doesn't exist), we do have control over the fitness of our bodies (well, assuming no conditions or illnesses that would prevent this--and I admit there are quite a few).
Quasimodo finally realizes that Frollo really has been lying to him when he sees the shadow of the knife on the wall. And it is so easy for him to get the better of Frollo, this man who has held him down for twenty years. All he had to do was say no, you have no power over me and I won't let you get away with this any longer. And he doesn't go at Frollo with revenge exactly, either: it is Frollo who, in saying his line about expunging the wicked, sentences himself to the justice of his death.
And what Quasimodo comes out of this whole experience with is more kindness and graciousness. Even though he liked Esmeralda, he sees that she likes Phoebus and not him and that Phoebus likes her; so Quasimodo puts their hands together, telling them that it's okay, he's happy to see that his two new friends are happy together. He's just glad to have made friends outside of the tower for once; he knows that there are more important things than "getting the girl." (And if you watch the sequel, which isn't half-bad for a sequel, he does get the girl, though of course it isn't Esmeralda.)
When the city cheers for Quasimodo and what he has done to help the people, their cheers show that looks no longer matter. They don't see his face anymore; they see his face, that is the face of the person who has done good for them. The inside works its way out--and that is what you wear on your face, whether you are considered "beautiful" or not. Especially with our current society love of considering ourselves beautiful (I get that you shouldn't believe that you're ugly and that you should have a positive self-esteem, but there is too much obsession with physical appearance and self-love), I greatly admire this theme of placing the emphasis back on the actions. So even if Quasimodo would probably never win as the favorite Disney character (would anyone name his as their favorite?), he might actually be the best one, in the sense of the whole role model thing that we're looking at in these two series of posts.
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
The Disney Boys: Part 7 - Simba
Click to read my introduction to this series, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, and Part 6.
Simba will be the second exception to my decision not to include animal characters in this series. After all, 1994's The Lion King has characters even more like people than in Bambi or 101 Dalmatians. The 90's Disney films started getting deep, too, didn't they? (Just wait until we get to The Hunchback of Notre Dame next time.) Not that Disney was ever not deep; it's just that Disney is traditionally more simply good versus evil, which is simple deep. The Lion King, though, is all of the crazy mess of inner life conflict reacting against the outer world that is Hamlet. And Simba, as Hamlet, has quite the personal journey there.
He begins as a normal child: eager, adventurous, positive, and friendly. He's excited to get into mischief and excited about the idea of being the king someday. But Simba's childhood ends early with the great shock that is the death of Mufasa. Following Scar's manipulation and bad advice, Simba flees into the "adolescent failure" stage. People nowadays call it "experimenting." Simba runs and hides, ignoring all that was important to him (his family, his home, and his friendship with Nala) in favor of looking out for himself only. He gives in to fear and, almost in a way, hedonism. And yet, even during this self-centered time, Simba's social side and his care for others still shows through in his friendship with Timon and Pumba. He doesn't just go off on his own; he finds a new posse, a new "family unit" to try and replace the one that he abandoned.
As the story goes on, you could say that this story is an instance where the princess saves the prince, assuming here that we want to consider Nala a princess (technically, after all, she's probably Simba's half-sister, right? though we'd probably rather not think about it that way). Nala, venturing far from home to try and help her people/family, finds Simba and tells him to come back. They talk about it and though Nala doesn't in that moment convince him, this conversation does lead in to Simba's encounter with Rafiki and then his vision of his father, all of which then leads to his decision to return to Pride Rock and take his place. So you can say that Simba and Nala make a good team.
Now, maybe everyone won't like this perspective, but I find Simba a great example of the male head of household setting up order for his family. What I like about this perspective is that Simba's taking on of this role emphasizes not the power of the role but the responsibility of it. This responsibility is what Mufasa tried to explain to the young Simba--what Simba could only understand for himself once he grew up and experienced that position for himself of seeing what it meant to stand up for his family/pride. And if you don't want to see it as specifically the "male head of household" thing, then you can simply see it as one person looking out for other people.
Or you can even see Simba's move to take his place as king as his move to take his place in the world. We all tend to struggle with wondering what our place is and finding out how to settle into it. It isn't always easy. So Simba's story shows what it means to realize what your role is and how you can perform it and how your own choices affect so many other people. That's life. Ah, these deep 90's Disney films.
Simba will be the second exception to my decision not to include animal characters in this series. After all, 1994's The Lion King has characters even more like people than in Bambi or 101 Dalmatians. The 90's Disney films started getting deep, too, didn't they? (Just wait until we get to The Hunchback of Notre Dame next time.) Not that Disney was ever not deep; it's just that Disney is traditionally more simply good versus evil, which is simple deep. The Lion King, though, is all of the crazy mess of inner life conflict reacting against the outer world that is Hamlet. And Simba, as Hamlet, has quite the personal journey there.
He begins as a normal child: eager, adventurous, positive, and friendly. He's excited to get into mischief and excited about the idea of being the king someday. But Simba's childhood ends early with the great shock that is the death of Mufasa. Following Scar's manipulation and bad advice, Simba flees into the "adolescent failure" stage. People nowadays call it "experimenting." Simba runs and hides, ignoring all that was important to him (his family, his home, and his friendship with Nala) in favor of looking out for himself only. He gives in to fear and, almost in a way, hedonism. And yet, even during this self-centered time, Simba's social side and his care for others still shows through in his friendship with Timon and Pumba. He doesn't just go off on his own; he finds a new posse, a new "family unit" to try and replace the one that he abandoned.
As the story goes on, you could say that this story is an instance where the princess saves the prince, assuming here that we want to consider Nala a princess (technically, after all, she's probably Simba's half-sister, right? though we'd probably rather not think about it that way). Nala, venturing far from home to try and help her people/family, finds Simba and tells him to come back. They talk about it and though Nala doesn't in that moment convince him, this conversation does lead in to Simba's encounter with Rafiki and then his vision of his father, all of which then leads to his decision to return to Pride Rock and take his place. So you can say that Simba and Nala make a good team.
Now, maybe everyone won't like this perspective, but I find Simba a great example of the male head of household setting up order for his family. What I like about this perspective is that Simba's taking on of this role emphasizes not the power of the role but the responsibility of it. This responsibility is what Mufasa tried to explain to the young Simba--what Simba could only understand for himself once he grew up and experienced that position for himself of seeing what it meant to stand up for his family/pride. And if you don't want to see it as specifically the "male head of household" thing, then you can simply see it as one person looking out for other people.
Or you can even see Simba's move to take his place as king as his move to take his place in the world. We all tend to struggle with wondering what our place is and finding out how to settle into it. It isn't always easy. So Simba's story shows what it means to realize what your role is and how you can perform it and how your own choices affect so many other people. That's life. Ah, these deep 90's Disney films.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
The Disney Boys - Part 6: Aladdin
Click to read my introduction to this series, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5.
Interestingly, with the list of characters I put together for this series, 1992's Aladdin is the sixth film that I cover--and it was also the sixth film in my Disney Princess Analysis. Instead of focusing on Jasmine, this time I'm focusing on the title character. Aladdin is the character who is in a princess movie but isn't a prince. He would start a trend with this trait: the male love interests in the next princess movies, Pocahontas and Mulan, and then later in Tangled are not princes, either.
Instead, Aladdin is the "diamond in the rough," the "one whose worth lies beneath." What does that mean, though?
Aladdin is poor: he lives on the streets and steals food to survive. He says that "you're only in trouble if you get caught," so obviously he doesn't have any moral qualms about stealing constantly. But should he? His need to steal is based off of a corrupt society; he is literally just surviving, not trying to take from others. And in fact he normally gives to others rather than taking things for himself. He can't help but give the children the bread he's about to eat. And rather than urging Abu to give away his piece, too, Aladdin just walks away and leaves Abu to make that choice for himself. It's all about personal choice, right? Rather than just feeding children, Aladdin also defends them, like when he stops the children in the crowd from getting hit with the whip. So his instincts are all positive; they all look outward, at others, rather than inward.
Still, it's hard for Aladdin not to let the "street rat" comments get to him. He knows better and tries to convince himself that they're wrong to call him that--but it's hard. And instead of watching Cinderella looking out her window at the castle, here we get to see a young man instead of a young woman looking out in the distance at the palace, dreaming of riches and a better life without any problems. Everyone can dream--and everyone can have life try and squeeze the dreams out of them.
After Aladdin helps Jasmine get away in the market (where he shows off his cleverness with quick improvisational skills), he is eager to share his dream of the palace with her. This, of course, leads to their shared expression of feeling "trapped," which continues the film's theme of freedom and bondage. Both Aladdin and Jasmine feel bound by their places in society; they are not free to live in even the simplest ways.
In prison, Aladdin falls for Jafar's trick because he is a dreamer. Is he tricked because of his innocence or dumbness? Is he just too pure to realize it's a trick, or is he blinded by his dreams of riches and his newfound infatuation with Jasmine? Maybe a little bit of both.
Now, Aladdin always seemed likable to the other poor of the city. He makes it a point to treat others well. For instance, he's kind to the magic carpet--which reaps rewards because the carpet subsequently saves his life twice in a row. And of course Aladdin is also quick to promise the Genie that he will use his last wish to free him. Might I add here a note about Aladdin's description to Genie of Jasmine: "she's smart and funny and--beautiful." Of course he has to like her physically, as well, but isn't it interesting that this film makes a point of having Aladdin remark on Jasmine's character rather than just her looks. Generic comments, sure, but it's just an animated movie.
Let's get back to Aladdin's dream of riches. When he comes in, all triumphant, in his Prince Ali garb, he tries to woo the Sultan more than Jasmine. So pleased with his new images of wealth, Aladdin shows off and in so presenting himself as a wealthy prince, he neglects the very traits that made Jasmine fall for him. All of this leads to his later conversation with Genie, in which he claims that he can't give Genie his freedom after all. From this, we can see that Aladdin really does have some self-worth issues, after all. He has trouble breaking free from the "street rat" comments even now: he feels like a worthless poser in his fancy robes and he thinks that, without Genie, it will become obvious to everyone that he is nothing.
None of this, of course, is true. In the end, it's Jafar who, in wishing for ultimate power, receives ultimate bondage. Aladdin, by risking losing Jasmine, decides that he must use his last wish to free Genie, after all--and in so doing frees himself, too. The "diamond in the rough" proves his worth by choosing someone else before himself, and in this way he shows that he is not a street rat but is instead a person who makes good choices with what he is given.
You know, I didn't really grow up watching this movie, so when I watched it (as if for the first time) a few years back, I didn't really care for it. But it's growing on me. Particularly I like how Aladdin shows some of the traits that often characterize the princesses, traits that people sometimes complain about as being weak but are in fact simply human characteristics. We all have our moments of struggle, and it's seeing characters who come up on the right side after the struggle that provides inspiration. And writing up this post has made me realize just how big that theme of freedom and bondage is in this film. When it all comes to it, Aladdin's a pretty inspirational character.
Interestingly, with the list of characters I put together for this series, 1992's Aladdin is the sixth film that I cover--and it was also the sixth film in my Disney Princess Analysis. Instead of focusing on Jasmine, this time I'm focusing on the title character. Aladdin is the character who is in a princess movie but isn't a prince. He would start a trend with this trait: the male love interests in the next princess movies, Pocahontas and Mulan, and then later in Tangled are not princes, either.
Instead, Aladdin is the "diamond in the rough," the "one whose worth lies beneath." What does that mean, though?
Aladdin is poor: he lives on the streets and steals food to survive. He says that "you're only in trouble if you get caught," so obviously he doesn't have any moral qualms about stealing constantly. But should he? His need to steal is based off of a corrupt society; he is literally just surviving, not trying to take from others. And in fact he normally gives to others rather than taking things for himself. He can't help but give the children the bread he's about to eat. And rather than urging Abu to give away his piece, too, Aladdin just walks away and leaves Abu to make that choice for himself. It's all about personal choice, right? Rather than just feeding children, Aladdin also defends them, like when he stops the children in the crowd from getting hit with the whip. So his instincts are all positive; they all look outward, at others, rather than inward.
Still, it's hard for Aladdin not to let the "street rat" comments get to him. He knows better and tries to convince himself that they're wrong to call him that--but it's hard. And instead of watching Cinderella looking out her window at the castle, here we get to see a young man instead of a young woman looking out in the distance at the palace, dreaming of riches and a better life without any problems. Everyone can dream--and everyone can have life try and squeeze the dreams out of them.
After Aladdin helps Jasmine get away in the market (where he shows off his cleverness with quick improvisational skills), he is eager to share his dream of the palace with her. This, of course, leads to their shared expression of feeling "trapped," which continues the film's theme of freedom and bondage. Both Aladdin and Jasmine feel bound by their places in society; they are not free to live in even the simplest ways.
In prison, Aladdin falls for Jafar's trick because he is a dreamer. Is he tricked because of his innocence or dumbness? Is he just too pure to realize it's a trick, or is he blinded by his dreams of riches and his newfound infatuation with Jasmine? Maybe a little bit of both.
Now, Aladdin always seemed likable to the other poor of the city. He makes it a point to treat others well. For instance, he's kind to the magic carpet--which reaps rewards because the carpet subsequently saves his life twice in a row. And of course Aladdin is also quick to promise the Genie that he will use his last wish to free him. Might I add here a note about Aladdin's description to Genie of Jasmine: "she's smart and funny and--beautiful." Of course he has to like her physically, as well, but isn't it interesting that this film makes a point of having Aladdin remark on Jasmine's character rather than just her looks. Generic comments, sure, but it's just an animated movie.
Let's get back to Aladdin's dream of riches. When he comes in, all triumphant, in his Prince Ali garb, he tries to woo the Sultan more than Jasmine. So pleased with his new images of wealth, Aladdin shows off and in so presenting himself as a wealthy prince, he neglects the very traits that made Jasmine fall for him. All of this leads to his later conversation with Genie, in which he claims that he can't give Genie his freedom after all. From this, we can see that Aladdin really does have some self-worth issues, after all. He has trouble breaking free from the "street rat" comments even now: he feels like a worthless poser in his fancy robes and he thinks that, without Genie, it will become obvious to everyone that he is nothing.
None of this, of course, is true. In the end, it's Jafar who, in wishing for ultimate power, receives ultimate bondage. Aladdin, by risking losing Jasmine, decides that he must use his last wish to free Genie, after all--and in so doing frees himself, too. The "diamond in the rough" proves his worth by choosing someone else before himself, and in this way he shows that he is not a street rat but is instead a person who makes good choices with what he is given.
You know, I didn't really grow up watching this movie, so when I watched it (as if for the first time) a few years back, I didn't really care for it. But it's growing on me. Particularly I like how Aladdin shows some of the traits that often characterize the princesses, traits that people sometimes complain about as being weak but are in fact simply human characteristics. We all have our moments of struggle, and it's seeing characters who come up on the right side after the struggle that provides inspiration. And writing up this post has made me realize just how big that theme of freedom and bondage is in this film. When it all comes to it, Aladdin's a pretty inspirational character.
Monday, January 8, 2018
The Disney Boys - Part 5: Taran
Click to read my introduction to this series, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.
Taran who, you ask? Why, Taran from 1985's The Black Cauldron, of course. It's one of those Disney films that doesn't get mentioned much--especially by Disney. Although Disney sometimes gets criticized (quite unfairly, I might add) for being too bright, here is an example of when people just don't accept a darker tone. The Black Cauldron was Disney's first PG animated film, and even though children nowadays tend to watch plenty of PG-13 films, I would say that this film is darker than plenty of those. Maybe it has less fighting than, for instance, the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, but it's still darker and genuinely terrifying.
So who is this Taran who lives inside this dark movie? Well, given that the story is a basic good and evil one, Taran is our hero. He's the boy who starts off daydreaming about going off to fight. He imagines becomes a famous warrior because of his great bravery. Like Arthur and Mowgli, Taran also starts off asserting that he isn't afraid. Dallben, his mentor, of course tells him that he would be foolish not to be afraid of the Horned King.
Yet on his first test, Taran fails. Dallben sends him off to get Hen Wen to safety and what does Taran do? He starts daydreaming again and Hen Wen gets away. Still, Taran doesn't hesitate to try to save Hen Wen from the dragons that are after her--and neither does he hesitate to enter the Horned King's castle to try and free her. He does seem to have courage after all; he even admonishes Gurgi for not coming with him.
Inside the castle, same thing. Taran loses his safe lookout spot in his desperate desire to save Hen Wen and he stands up for her even though he is face to face with the Horned King himself. Taran even gets away from the King and all his minions. Then he makes the choice to put Hen Wen over the wall first, the consequence being that he is captured while Hen Wen gets free.
Taran finds power but also his own weakness in the magical sword. He is thrilled to see what it can do, and having it fuels his high hopes for himself. Later, when the group escapes and Taran tries to prove himself to Eilonwy, all he does is the opposite. All he shows her is that, despite everything, he is still just the boy daydreaming about fame and greatness and not really understanding what it truly means to stand up for someone else (even though he has in fact stood up for others by this point).
When Taran offers the sword that he loves in exchange for the cauldron so that he can destroy it and all of the Horned King's evil plans, he begins to understand. He gives up his chance for fame in the hopes of achieving something greater. Later, when he has the chance to trade the cauldron back for the sword, he can't do it because he realizes that the sword itself meant nothing. "I'm not a warrior . . . what would I do with a sword?" Taran realizes that it's the role he has been given that has been most important. He played his role to protect Hen Wen and now it is his time to help Gurgi, who helped him by taking his place in the cauldron. Helping others matters more than fame.
In this the darkest of the Disney animated films, we have a character who learns what sacrifice and friendship and courage mean. And many of the lessons he learns, I might add, he learns with the help of Eilonwy; more than "strong female characters" (I find that phrase vague and unhelpful toward anyone) I value male and female characters (each with their own sets of strengths and weaknesses) who can work together. The Black Cauldron offers us that. Eilonwy is optimistic and brave, and Taran is hopeful and brave. They show the difference we can make by choosing the side of good.
Taran who, you ask? Why, Taran from 1985's The Black Cauldron, of course. It's one of those Disney films that doesn't get mentioned much--especially by Disney. Although Disney sometimes gets criticized (quite unfairly, I might add) for being too bright, here is an example of when people just don't accept a darker tone. The Black Cauldron was Disney's first PG animated film, and even though children nowadays tend to watch plenty of PG-13 films, I would say that this film is darker than plenty of those. Maybe it has less fighting than, for instance, the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, but it's still darker and genuinely terrifying.
So who is this Taran who lives inside this dark movie? Well, given that the story is a basic good and evil one, Taran is our hero. He's the boy who starts off daydreaming about going off to fight. He imagines becomes a famous warrior because of his great bravery. Like Arthur and Mowgli, Taran also starts off asserting that he isn't afraid. Dallben, his mentor, of course tells him that he would be foolish not to be afraid of the Horned King.
Yet on his first test, Taran fails. Dallben sends him off to get Hen Wen to safety and what does Taran do? He starts daydreaming again and Hen Wen gets away. Still, Taran doesn't hesitate to try to save Hen Wen from the dragons that are after her--and neither does he hesitate to enter the Horned King's castle to try and free her. He does seem to have courage after all; he even admonishes Gurgi for not coming with him.
Inside the castle, same thing. Taran loses his safe lookout spot in his desperate desire to save Hen Wen and he stands up for her even though he is face to face with the Horned King himself. Taran even gets away from the King and all his minions. Then he makes the choice to put Hen Wen over the wall first, the consequence being that he is captured while Hen Wen gets free.
Taran finds power but also his own weakness in the magical sword. He is thrilled to see what it can do, and having it fuels his high hopes for himself. Later, when the group escapes and Taran tries to prove himself to Eilonwy, all he does is the opposite. All he shows her is that, despite everything, he is still just the boy daydreaming about fame and greatness and not really understanding what it truly means to stand up for someone else (even though he has in fact stood up for others by this point).
When Taran offers the sword that he loves in exchange for the cauldron so that he can destroy it and all of the Horned King's evil plans, he begins to understand. He gives up his chance for fame in the hopes of achieving something greater. Later, when he has the chance to trade the cauldron back for the sword, he can't do it because he realizes that the sword itself meant nothing. "I'm not a warrior . . . what would I do with a sword?" Taran realizes that it's the role he has been given that has been most important. He played his role to protect Hen Wen and now it is his time to help Gurgi, who helped him by taking his place in the cauldron. Helping others matters more than fame.
In this the darkest of the Disney animated films, we have a character who learns what sacrifice and friendship and courage mean. And many of the lessons he learns, I might add, he learns with the help of Eilonwy; more than "strong female characters" (I find that phrase vague and unhelpful toward anyone) I value male and female characters (each with their own sets of strengths and weaknesses) who can work together. The Black Cauldron offers us that. Eilonwy is optimistic and brave, and Taran is hopeful and brave. They show the difference we can make by choosing the side of good.
Friday, December 1, 2017
The Disney Boys - Part 4: Robin Hood
Click to read my introduction to this series, Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.
We've come to another gap between the timelines of the Disney Princess Analysis and the Disney Boys series. The fourth princess was 1989's Ariel, but the fourth gent is the title character of 1973's Robin Hood. Still, Ariel and Robin have some similarities. They're both adventurous, social, and generally likable people.
I say people because even though I kept most of the "animal movies" out of this series, the characters of this film act like they're humans: the fact that they're drawn as animals is an artistic, stylistic, and thematic choice (as opposed to a film like Bambi where the characters are literally set up as animals). And even though Robin is a fox, we still know what type of a person he is. They drew him to look dapper and attractive, sort of suave and friendly. He has that smile that shows that he always likes to look on the positive side, even if he just had an arrow run through his hat.
That would be bravery, too, then. He doesn't even wink in fear at that brush with death. Maybe this nonchalance stems from his lack of concern over the future. This is where Robin is unlike the princesses. While they have hopes and fears about the future, Robin is just concerned with the present. All he's doing is trying to help out the people around him--while daydreaming about Marian (I'll come back to that last part presently). Even though he's so positive, in a way he doesn't have hope for the future: all he sees is the bad around him, the bad that he's trying to limit as much as he can.
Making others, particularly children, is Robin's biggest trait. He surprises Skippy on his birthday and doesn't hold back at all, even gifting the boy his own hat off of his head. Later, he risks arrows to go back and save Skippy's younger sister, sending her through the gate to Little John while telling him, "Keep going--don't worry about me." His nonchalance isn't from lack of knowing what danger or evil are.
Robin is also inventive and sneaky. Even though he's the thief in the woods for humanitarian reasons, he quite enjoys his role. He likes being active and catching people off guard. He likes dressing up in disguises to trick everyone, whether it's dressing up as a gypsy woman to steal the rings from Prince John's fingers or as a beggar to distribute extra coins that he's stolen to the poor.
Primarily Robin a classic manly character: he's great at archery and sword fighting and protecting women and children. But he's also chivalric: he isn't afraid or hesitant to confess his love for Marian. For him, all of those "manly virtues," if you will, mean nothing if they're not grounded in the "matters of the heart," so to speak--that is, the love for his fellow mankind (not quite mankind in this film, but you get the idea), love for his king, and love for his lady. So what do we have there? Once you write it all down, Robin's characteristics have a great balance of the two sides that can make up a "good" person. He has heart and bravery, thief and outlaw through he is.
We've come to another gap between the timelines of the Disney Princess Analysis and the Disney Boys series. The fourth princess was 1989's Ariel, but the fourth gent is the title character of 1973's Robin Hood. Still, Ariel and Robin have some similarities. They're both adventurous, social, and generally likable people.
I say people because even though I kept most of the "animal movies" out of this series, the characters of this film act like they're humans: the fact that they're drawn as animals is an artistic, stylistic, and thematic choice (as opposed to a film like Bambi where the characters are literally set up as animals). And even though Robin is a fox, we still know what type of a person he is. They drew him to look dapper and attractive, sort of suave and friendly. He has that smile that shows that he always likes to look on the positive side, even if he just had an arrow run through his hat.
That would be bravery, too, then. He doesn't even wink in fear at that brush with death. Maybe this nonchalance stems from his lack of concern over the future. This is where Robin is unlike the princesses. While they have hopes and fears about the future, Robin is just concerned with the present. All he's doing is trying to help out the people around him--while daydreaming about Marian (I'll come back to that last part presently). Even though he's so positive, in a way he doesn't have hope for the future: all he sees is the bad around him, the bad that he's trying to limit as much as he can.
Making others, particularly children, is Robin's biggest trait. He surprises Skippy on his birthday and doesn't hold back at all, even gifting the boy his own hat off of his head. Later, he risks arrows to go back and save Skippy's younger sister, sending her through the gate to Little John while telling him, "Keep going--don't worry about me." His nonchalance isn't from lack of knowing what danger or evil are.
Robin is also inventive and sneaky. Even though he's the thief in the woods for humanitarian reasons, he quite enjoys his role. He likes being active and catching people off guard. He likes dressing up in disguises to trick everyone, whether it's dressing up as a gypsy woman to steal the rings from Prince John's fingers or as a beggar to distribute extra coins that he's stolen to the poor.
Primarily Robin a classic manly character: he's great at archery and sword fighting and protecting women and children. But he's also chivalric: he isn't afraid or hesitant to confess his love for Marian. For him, all of those "manly virtues," if you will, mean nothing if they're not grounded in the "matters of the heart," so to speak--that is, the love for his fellow mankind (not quite mankind in this film, but you get the idea), love for his king, and love for his lady. So what do we have there? Once you write it all down, Robin's characteristics have a great balance of the two sides that can make up a "good" person. He has heart and bravery, thief and outlaw through he is.
Wednesday, November 8, 2017
The Disney Boys - Part 3: Mowgli
Click to read my introduction to this series, Part 1, and Part 2.
From 1963's The Sword in the Stone, we are moving on just a couple of years or so to 1967's The Jungle Book. This film is a bit like 1951's Alice in Wonderland in the sense that Mowgli, like Alice, is essentially just wandering around a land and meeting different types of characters--but Mowgli does have more characterization than Alice does, so we have at least enough of a sense of who he is for this post.
The obvious trait to bring up, though, doesn't have to do with Mowgli's character but rather with his physical self. The story takes place in India, meaning that Mowgli's the first non-white character in this series, even though we're still in the sixties. It took until the nineties for the Disney princesses to start gaining some racial diversity. So that's cool that the boys got a head start in this area (interestingly, I count both five non-white characters in this series and in the princess series).
Like Pinocchio and Arthur, Mowgli is just a boy, not a teenager like the princesses are. Like Aurora, though, he grew up outside of "his" homeland and within Nature. Instead of being raised by fairies, though, he's raised by wolves. The thing is, though, The Jungle Book turns everything around: instead of Mowgli's upbringing being evidence of wildness, it is evidence of innocence. He is raised to respect Nature and the animals within it, rather than loving hunting and guns like Man (when raised among his own kind) does.
Mowgli, then, is a completely positive character. Just look at him interacting with the other animals, for instance. He observes them and sees how they do things and then joins in. He's friendly and interested in learning others' ways. He talks to the young elephant before joining in the elephant march. He quickly starts up a mentor/apprentice relationship with Baloo. Near the end of the film, when he is feeling sad and betrayed, the vultures, by acting friendly to him, remind Mowgli of who he is: a friend to everyone who accepts him.
The reason Mowgli is so friendly with so many different types of animals is that he sees what they all have to offer. When Bagheera comments on Mowgli's ineptitude at climbing a large tree, Mowgli explains that it's because he doesn't have claws like Bagheera does. He's smart, and he's able to recognize individual strengths--and to try and imitate any strengths that he sees.
Mowgli is brave, too. Because the jungle is the only home he's ever known, he stands up to Bagheera and says that he wants to stay and isn't afraid of Shere Khan. This isn't just words, either. When he does finally face Shere Khan, Mowgli doesn't run: he prepares to fight instead. And when the vultures try and get him away to safety, he protests, "Let go--Baloo needs help." He won't flee just to save himself when he knows his friend is in danger.
Not that Mowgli is entirely without fault. He does fall for King Louie's offer. But he also learns from misjudgments. The second time Kaa tries to get him, Mowgli knows what's happening and knows not to trust Kaa. And Mowgli is, after all, just a child, so it's natural (well, it would be at any age, too, honestly) for him to misjudge some situations.
It's the princesses who are known for making friends with animals, but Mowgli quite literally talks to and befriends animals--and not in the casual way of Snow White or Aurora. He talks with them and shares in their stories and gets to know them, so much so that they are willing to risk their lives to save him. That makes Mowgli, first and foremost, a friend, which is not a bad trait at all.
From 1963's The Sword in the Stone, we are moving on just a couple of years or so to 1967's The Jungle Book. This film is a bit like 1951's Alice in Wonderland in the sense that Mowgli, like Alice, is essentially just wandering around a land and meeting different types of characters--but Mowgli does have more characterization than Alice does, so we have at least enough of a sense of who he is for this post.
The obvious trait to bring up, though, doesn't have to do with Mowgli's character but rather with his physical self. The story takes place in India, meaning that Mowgli's the first non-white character in this series, even though we're still in the sixties. It took until the nineties for the Disney princesses to start gaining some racial diversity. So that's cool that the boys got a head start in this area (interestingly, I count both five non-white characters in this series and in the princess series).
Like Pinocchio and Arthur, Mowgli is just a boy, not a teenager like the princesses are. Like Aurora, though, he grew up outside of "his" homeland and within Nature. Instead of being raised by fairies, though, he's raised by wolves. The thing is, though, The Jungle Book turns everything around: instead of Mowgli's upbringing being evidence of wildness, it is evidence of innocence. He is raised to respect Nature and the animals within it, rather than loving hunting and guns like Man (when raised among his own kind) does.
Mowgli, then, is a completely positive character. Just look at him interacting with the other animals, for instance. He observes them and sees how they do things and then joins in. He's friendly and interested in learning others' ways. He talks to the young elephant before joining in the elephant march. He quickly starts up a mentor/apprentice relationship with Baloo. Near the end of the film, when he is feeling sad and betrayed, the vultures, by acting friendly to him, remind Mowgli of who he is: a friend to everyone who accepts him.
The reason Mowgli is so friendly with so many different types of animals is that he sees what they all have to offer. When Bagheera comments on Mowgli's ineptitude at climbing a large tree, Mowgli explains that it's because he doesn't have claws like Bagheera does. He's smart, and he's able to recognize individual strengths--and to try and imitate any strengths that he sees.
Mowgli is brave, too. Because the jungle is the only home he's ever known, he stands up to Bagheera and says that he wants to stay and isn't afraid of Shere Khan. This isn't just words, either. When he does finally face Shere Khan, Mowgli doesn't run: he prepares to fight instead. And when the vultures try and get him away to safety, he protests, "Let go--Baloo needs help." He won't flee just to save himself when he knows his friend is in danger.
Not that Mowgli is entirely without fault. He does fall for King Louie's offer. But he also learns from misjudgments. The second time Kaa tries to get him, Mowgli knows what's happening and knows not to trust Kaa. And Mowgli is, after all, just a child, so it's natural (well, it would be at any age, too, honestly) for him to misjudge some situations.
It's the princesses who are known for making friends with animals, but Mowgli quite literally talks to and befriends animals--and not in the casual way of Snow White or Aurora. He talks with them and shares in their stories and gets to know them, so much so that they are willing to risk their lives to save him. That makes Mowgli, first and foremost, a friend, which is not a bad trait at all.
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
The Disney Boys - Part 2: Arthur
Click to read my introduction to this series and Part 1.
Our first jump in between movies is big. From 1940's Pinocchio we're moving all the way to 1963's The Sword in the Stone, which is a much bigger jump than when I went from 1937's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to 1950's Cinderella. I wished at first that I had a movie to represent the 50's, but it turns out that The Sword in the Stone was close enough to that era to capture some of its essence, after all. In fact, there are definitely some similarities between Arthur and Cinderella--and between Arthur and 1959's Aurora/Sleeping Beauty.
Like Pinocchio, Arthur is primarily just a boy. Interesting to note that while the Disney princesses are mostly teenagers (that is, young women who could easily be anywhere in the range of fifteen to twenty-five), the male side of films starts off with younger children. Pinocchio was about, what, eight or nine at the most? Arthur is around twelve, and physically he's on the young side, still thin and coming into his own. A child, not quite a young man yet.
When I said that he's primarily just a boy, I meant his personality, too. Not entirely unlike Cinderella, he's defined more by certain things that he says or does than by a general sense of who he is or what he would choose to spend his time doing. That is, his personality is just that he's good. He takes to Merlin's guidance right away because he is perfectly willing to submit to a higher, positive authority. And when Merlin uses his magic to do the kitchen duties, Arthur begins to protest by telling him, "I'm supposed to do it." So he's honest--and even though Sir Ector and Kay don't treat him well, he spends absolutely no time complaining that this isn't fair. He just does his duties and looks forward to possibilities (becoming a squire).
In this way, he is completely like Cinderella, except perhaps more practical and less dramatic. He even sings while he's cleaning (a pot in the kitchen instead of the foyer floor). I guess, while Cinderella has lived a different life, this life is all Arthur knows. All he knows is being a servant, so to him there is nothing shameful or negative about looking forward to being a squire (true that Cinderella doesn't even have a higher level of servitude to look forward to). He doesn't need to dream about far off castles because, like he tells Merlin, he doesn't "have any problems."
Not to say that Arthur is completely subservient. Because he is honest and good, he recognizes Merlin as good right away and is even willing to stand up to Ector on Merlin's behalf. He doesn't ever attempt to stand up for himself (I don't think the thought even occurs to him), but he is quick to defend Merlin.
I made the comparison between Arthur and Aurora because both of their stories contain this concept of royalty that cannot be hidden. Aurora is regal despite being raised as a peasant girl in the middle of the woods. And Arthur is the king in the guise of a servant. Both of them have a hidden identity, a secret that can't be contained by mere physical traits/surroundings.
The biggest difference between Arthur and any of the princesses is surprisingly (for me, at least) hard to admit, though it's so big. The Sword in the Stone is all about education, something that isn't really emphasized for any of the princesses, though possibly in part because education doesn't always make for the most interesting story. Think about it--whose favorite Disney movie is The Sword in the Stone? I'm sure a couple of people would name it, but in general it isn't one of the top films. (And I'm not counting Belle's story as being about education. Yes, Belle liked to read and her conversation with Gaston, who was disgusted by the idea of a woman getting ideas and thinking based on her reading, did veer toward the concept of education. But in general Belle's reading is more her passion and her escape than a quest for knowledge and "bettering herself.")
Right away, Merlin comes in and looks at what Arthur has been studying (the "sporty" side, with jousting and swordsmanship and the like) and says that what he needs is an education. So Merlin, through these various trips turning into animals, teaches Arthur about different perspectives and about how all of the pieces can come together in a situation. He's constantly emphasizing that "knowledge and wisdom is the real power." Whereas for the princesses, goodness is most important, Merlin believes that Arthur will act out goodness if he has a foundation in knowledge.
So while Arthur might not have the most exciting film of them all (if you're watching the two of them turn into fish and birds and wondering when you finally get to the sword in the stone bit), his story does emphasize positive traits, including that theme of education that none of the others really stress. Honesty, diligence, and the ability to listen and learn make up Arthur's character.
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
The Disney Boys - Part 1: Pinocchio
Click here to read my Introduction to this series.
If this series will involve some comparison of the Disney girls and boys, then 1940's Pinocchio makes for the perfect companion to 1937's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Both are moral tales with the classic Disney elements of good (light and bright) and evil (pretty dark). The difference is that, while Snow White is a good example of behavior and various virtues, Pinocchio is an example of what happens to us when we inevitably fail in our aims to be good.
Pinocchio is Man, Geppetto is his Creator, Jiminy Cricket is his Conscience/Moral Compass, Honest John and Gideon and Stromboli are Temptation, and Pleasure Island is Sin. It's all so straightforward that I feel like I don't have much to talk about.
Geppetto makes Pinocchio, but he is just wood. The Blue Fairy gives him life, but along with that comes the ability to make choices. Only Pinocchio can make himself "a real boy" because only Pinocchio can choose the correct path. He has the free will to be a good boy and listen to his father and to Jiminy or to follow Honest John down to Pleasure Island, where a false feeling of freedom soon gives way to bondage. Only when he escapes and is willing to follow his father (who has been calling out to him all this time) wherever need be (all the way into the mouth of Monstro) can Pinocchio become "real." In essence, this is when he becomes the "new creation," that is, the boy who is no longer just moving wood.
Talk about this being a story to set an example for children--it's an example for adults, as well. There are right choices and there are wrong choices, and sometimes we don't quite realize that we're on our way into wrong choices--but that's all the more reason to pay attention to where we're placing our focus in our daily lives. And just because we've walked down that wrong path, doesn't mean our Creator won't be still calling out to us, waiting for us to return. Also, when you ask in good conscience for something and you have shown that you're worthy to receive, well, miracles do happen and people do receive what they have so greatly wanted (Geppetto received his boy and Pinocchio became alive and real).
Pinocchio's quest is to become "brave, truthful, and unselfish." These are all positive traits, especially viewed with one another. You want to be brave, but not at the expense of being truthful and unselfish; also, being brave will at times help you to be truthful and unselfish. You don't just wish upon a star; you don't just make a prayer. You do that and you look inward to see what you are or aren't doing in your life. That's all pretty positive.
So that's all I have to say. Pinocchio starts us off very much like Snow White does, with a simple moral tale. Sure, characters later on will introduce more elements, but this character and this film offer enough on their own for a wonderful story with a wonderful message for the audience.
If this series will involve some comparison of the Disney girls and boys, then 1940's Pinocchio makes for the perfect companion to 1937's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Both are moral tales with the classic Disney elements of good (light and bright) and evil (pretty dark). The difference is that, while Snow White is a good example of behavior and various virtues, Pinocchio is an example of what happens to us when we inevitably fail in our aims to be good.
Pinocchio is Man, Geppetto is his Creator, Jiminy Cricket is his Conscience/Moral Compass, Honest John and Gideon and Stromboli are Temptation, and Pleasure Island is Sin. It's all so straightforward that I feel like I don't have much to talk about.
Geppetto makes Pinocchio, but he is just wood. The Blue Fairy gives him life, but along with that comes the ability to make choices. Only Pinocchio can make himself "a real boy" because only Pinocchio can choose the correct path. He has the free will to be a good boy and listen to his father and to Jiminy or to follow Honest John down to Pleasure Island, where a false feeling of freedom soon gives way to bondage. Only when he escapes and is willing to follow his father (who has been calling out to him all this time) wherever need be (all the way into the mouth of Monstro) can Pinocchio become "real." In essence, this is when he becomes the "new creation," that is, the boy who is no longer just moving wood.
Talk about this being a story to set an example for children--it's an example for adults, as well. There are right choices and there are wrong choices, and sometimes we don't quite realize that we're on our way into wrong choices--but that's all the more reason to pay attention to where we're placing our focus in our daily lives. And just because we've walked down that wrong path, doesn't mean our Creator won't be still calling out to us, waiting for us to return. Also, when you ask in good conscience for something and you have shown that you're worthy to receive, well, miracles do happen and people do receive what they have so greatly wanted (Geppetto received his boy and Pinocchio became alive and real).
Pinocchio's quest is to become "brave, truthful, and unselfish." These are all positive traits, especially viewed with one another. You want to be brave, but not at the expense of being truthful and unselfish; also, being brave will at times help you to be truthful and unselfish. You don't just wish upon a star; you don't just make a prayer. You do that and you look inward to see what you are or aren't doing in your life. That's all pretty positive.
So that's all I have to say. Pinocchio starts us off very much like Snow White does, with a simple moral tale. Sure, characters later on will introduce more elements, but this character and this film offer enough on their own for a wonderful story with a wonderful message for the audience.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
The Disney Boys: Introduction
Over a course of some months, I had a series of posts in which I analyzed the Disney princesses. Mostly I was defending them by pointing out the ways in which they are positive role models; I also looked at the ways in which specific characters offered more or less of the various things we might want from role model types. Given that those posts were popular (and I do enjoy talking Disney), now it's time to turn from the girls to the boys. I think that it's important for both girls and boys (and for women and men, for that matter) to see both girls and boys (and women and men) in fiction.
So while it was easy to just do a dozen posts on the twelve official Disney princesses, what am I planning for the Disney menfolk? I've made up my own set of rules. All Disney feature length animated films--no Pixar. Mainly only human characters, but a couple of animal characters made it in, too (The Lion King transcends animal/human and in Robin Hood they're basically just animals playing people, so that works). I've chosen twelve of them to match the twelve Disney princesses and make them both even numbers. No princes from Disney princess movies (though I could easily talk about Philip from Sleeping Beauty, the Beast from Beauty and the Beast, Shang from Mulan, and Flynn Ryder from Tangled), mostly because I don't want to repeat things that I might have already touched on in the other set of posts. The one exception is Aladdin because that movie both is and isn't a princess movie and since it's named after Aladdin instead of Jasmine, it's the perfect subject for this series. (Moana isn't an exception because Moana isn't even considered an official Disney princess, anyway.) And I'm choosing only characters who are the main part of their story and who represent something positive (either their identity or their personal journey).
Here are the films I've chosen: Pinocchio, The Sword in the Stone, The Jungle Book, Robin Hood, The Black Cauldron, Aladdin, The Lion King, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hercules, Tarzan, and Moana. I confess that I haven't watched Wreck-It Ralph yet (I kind of thought it was Pixar, and I don't keep up as much with Pixar because I don't usually like Pixar much); I think it will be part of this series, but if I watch it and decide that it doesn't, I'll go with Peter Pan instead (though honestly that wouldn't work perfectly because the film is more about the Darling family than about Peter himself--he's just a symbol, really).
I don't know to what degree I'll be comparing the male characters to the princesses. Going in, I'll have so many different sub-topics that I don't know what will be the main focuses by the time I've finished the series. I'm going to aim to do at least a couple of these a month, possibly more depending on how it goes. So this series could run anywhere from three to six months long.
While you wait for the first post, you can start over again with my Disney Princess Analysis. Click here to read what I had to say about Snow White.
So while it was easy to just do a dozen posts on the twelve official Disney princesses, what am I planning for the Disney menfolk? I've made up my own set of rules. All Disney feature length animated films--no Pixar. Mainly only human characters, but a couple of animal characters made it in, too (The Lion King transcends animal/human and in Robin Hood they're basically just animals playing people, so that works). I've chosen twelve of them to match the twelve Disney princesses and make them both even numbers. No princes from Disney princess movies (though I could easily talk about Philip from Sleeping Beauty, the Beast from Beauty and the Beast, Shang from Mulan, and Flynn Ryder from Tangled), mostly because I don't want to repeat things that I might have already touched on in the other set of posts. The one exception is Aladdin because that movie both is and isn't a princess movie and since it's named after Aladdin instead of Jasmine, it's the perfect subject for this series. (Moana isn't an exception because Moana isn't even considered an official Disney princess, anyway.) And I'm choosing only characters who are the main part of their story and who represent something positive (either their identity or their personal journey).
Here are the films I've chosen: Pinocchio, The Sword in the Stone, The Jungle Book, Robin Hood, The Black Cauldron, Aladdin, The Lion King, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hercules, Tarzan, and Moana. I confess that I haven't watched Wreck-It Ralph yet (I kind of thought it was Pixar, and I don't keep up as much with Pixar because I don't usually like Pixar much); I think it will be part of this series, but if I watch it and decide that it doesn't, I'll go with Peter Pan instead (though honestly that wouldn't work perfectly because the film is more about the Darling family than about Peter himself--he's just a symbol, really).
I don't know to what degree I'll be comparing the male characters to the princesses. Going in, I'll have so many different sub-topics that I don't know what will be the main focuses by the time I've finished the series. I'm going to aim to do at least a couple of these a month, possibly more depending on how it goes. So this series could run anywhere from three to six months long.
While you wait for the first post, you can start over again with my Disney Princess Analysis. Click here to read what I had to say about Snow White.
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