Despite the fact that its inclusion of spaceships and different types of people from different planets makes Star Wars sci-fi, I think of it more as fantasy. The Force is akin to magic, the lightsaber duels are akin to sword fights, and what's the difference between aliens and fantastical creatures anyway? Oh, yes, and there's even the awakening of a character from sleep like death.
Not Prince Philip waking Sleeping Beauty, no, in Star Wars it is the princess who does the waking.
Han Solo isn't quite in an enchanted sleep and he isn't under a curse, but the chief villain has put him into a sleep from which he cannot wake on his own. Darth Vader has allowed Boba Fett to deliver Han Solo to Jabba the Hutt; he is consequently well-guarded in his deep sleep. So he might as well be in an enchanted sleep.
Enter Leia in a carefully-organized plan of rescue. Her role: to wake Han. Not to get him out--just to wake him. That is enough. True, it is the pressing of buttons on the panel that ends the hibernation, not her kiss, but that's a mere technicality. The image of her waking him remains. The princess waking her love from his death sleep.
Other than the simple image, there are a couple of other things to note about this waking. It proves that just because one character, at some point, needs the other one to wake him/her, that does not mean that he/she is weak. Do you know what I mean? Sometimes princess stories get hate because people say they portray women as needing to be saved by men. Maybe that's true--but that isn't the only way to interpret these stories. Especially Sleeping Beauty. That's a movie about two people who meet and fall in love and then encounter some dangers, after which the prince happens to be the one who is awake and therefore able to help the princess. It's like that with Star Wars: no one would call Han Solo a weak character (in that sense of the word--he is sometimes weak, towards the beginning, with his self-centeredness and his love of money), yet at this point in the story he needs saving from Leia.
The second thing is the reversal of roles and the fact that it is not isolated to this one scene. In contrast to the idea of princesses who need saving from men, Leia often helps Han, as he often helps her. When they first meet, for instance, she is the one who takes the gun and opens up a way for them to get into the garbage disposal area to escape from the detention section. Leia is never one to be passive; after all, she is one of the leading figures of the rebellion and no passive person would even be part of the rebellion, much less help lead it.
So we return to the image: the man who has been put under a deep sleep from which only his love, the princess, can wake him.
Showing posts with label fairy tales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fairy tales. Show all posts
Friday, May 29, 2015
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Maleficent
If you haven't seen the movie yet, yes, there will be some spoilers.
Fairy tales, as they used to be written, were more about stark contrasts between good and evil, with different characters or places representing either side. Nowadays, however, we're tired of such strict morals and need the story to feel more personal by having the conflict take place within the same character or place--that's why so many characters are written as being neither strictly good nor evil. We need to see how a single character can be when he chooses to act on the good or on the bad.
Maleficent was built around this difference between then and now. In many ways, it echoes Disney's original animated movie; the gifting scene even borrows lines directly from it. But it isn't simply an exact rendering of the movie from animation to live-action, and I think they found a good balance between familiarity and newness. The main character who exemplifies the good/evil conflict is, of course, Maleficent. She stands in contrast to Stefan, who faces the same conflict but handles it differently.
Much of this is nothing new. We've seen villains turned into sympathetic characters. We've seen true love mean other kinds of love than romantic (in Frozen and Once Upon a Time). But this movie was still a rather sweet retelling of the importance of choosing love over bitterness. Stefan abandoned love for greed and power. Maleficent, hurt by his malice against her, refused to believe in love anymore and sought vengeance. Then she, through watching Aurora, began to love again--while Stefan, consumed by guilt and the fear of losing his power, let his rage and violence grow even more. Somehow, the final conflict between Maleficent and Stefan was very much like the final sequence in Sleeping Beauty, where Philip must take on weapons of virtue in order to slay the dragon of evil.
The movie kept us guessing nicely about how the conflict would be resolved. We all know the story already, but this version was different. Maybe Philip would come in and break the curse, or maybe not. For a moment, I thought it might be Diaval, but then there was too much of an age difference there. I did think it might be Maleficent, but then they brought in Philip and so I thought that it must be him, after all. But, no, this movie presented true love not as something fated by destiny but as something that must grow. Philip and Aurora liked each other right away and possibly do have a future together. But their love had not grow yet. Maleficent, by taking care of Aurora and spending time with her, had cultivated love. She came to love Stefan's daughter the way he, who never spent any time with her or cared at all to get to know her, never would.
While the Moors did have a bit much of a Dr.Seuss/Bridge to Terabithia/Avatar look, the character arcs in this story made up for it. This role really was perfect for Angelina Jolie--and the scenes with baby Aurora were marvelous. Maleficent reminded me of Morgan le Fay from the King Arthur legends and Mystique from X-Men, maybe with a dash of Mary Poppins. One of my biggest complaints was the cover of "Once Upon a Dream" for the credits. I love that song, but that version was terrible. After watching the movie and feeling pretty favorable about it, it was such a shocker to hear that song and want to quickly run out of the theatre.
End credits song aside, Maleficent brought into balance the familiar elements of Disney's animated tale and a more modern approach to conflict. With this wave of fairy tales, I'm now looking forward to seeing Cinderella next year (especially after looking at the cast and crew list).
Fairy tales, as they used to be written, were more about stark contrasts between good and evil, with different characters or places representing either side. Nowadays, however, we're tired of such strict morals and need the story to feel more personal by having the conflict take place within the same character or place--that's why so many characters are written as being neither strictly good nor evil. We need to see how a single character can be when he chooses to act on the good or on the bad.
Maleficent was built around this difference between then and now. In many ways, it echoes Disney's original animated movie; the gifting scene even borrows lines directly from it. But it isn't simply an exact rendering of the movie from animation to live-action, and I think they found a good balance between familiarity and newness. The main character who exemplifies the good/evil conflict is, of course, Maleficent. She stands in contrast to Stefan, who faces the same conflict but handles it differently.
Much of this is nothing new. We've seen villains turned into sympathetic characters. We've seen true love mean other kinds of love than romantic (in Frozen and Once Upon a Time). But this movie was still a rather sweet retelling of the importance of choosing love over bitterness. Stefan abandoned love for greed and power. Maleficent, hurt by his malice against her, refused to believe in love anymore and sought vengeance. Then she, through watching Aurora, began to love again--while Stefan, consumed by guilt and the fear of losing his power, let his rage and violence grow even more. Somehow, the final conflict between Maleficent and Stefan was very much like the final sequence in Sleeping Beauty, where Philip must take on weapons of virtue in order to slay the dragon of evil.
The movie kept us guessing nicely about how the conflict would be resolved. We all know the story already, but this version was different. Maybe Philip would come in and break the curse, or maybe not. For a moment, I thought it might be Diaval, but then there was too much of an age difference there. I did think it might be Maleficent, but then they brought in Philip and so I thought that it must be him, after all. But, no, this movie presented true love not as something fated by destiny but as something that must grow. Philip and Aurora liked each other right away and possibly do have a future together. But their love had not grow yet. Maleficent, by taking care of Aurora and spending time with her, had cultivated love. She came to love Stefan's daughter the way he, who never spent any time with her or cared at all to get to know her, never would.
While the Moors did have a bit much of a Dr.Seuss/Bridge to Terabithia/Avatar look, the character arcs in this story made up for it. This role really was perfect for Angelina Jolie--and the scenes with baby Aurora were marvelous. Maleficent reminded me of Morgan le Fay from the King Arthur legends and Mystique from X-Men, maybe with a dash of Mary Poppins. One of my biggest complaints was the cover of "Once Upon a Dream" for the credits. I love that song, but that version was terrible. After watching the movie and feeling pretty favorable about it, it was such a shocker to hear that song and want to quickly run out of the theatre.
End credits song aside, Maleficent brought into balance the familiar elements of Disney's animated tale and a more modern approach to conflict. With this wave of fairy tales, I'm now looking forward to seeing Cinderella next year (especially after looking at the cast and crew list).
Monday, August 12, 2013
Once Upon a Long Time Ago
They're the opening phrases that isolate you into fantasy, into the realm of a story. They're the words of "let there be light" that allow words to have the power of creation. They're the words that let you know that there are no rules besides the bounds of imagination.
"Once upon a time" . . . and "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away." Fairy tales and Star Wars.
I've heard about how Star Wars (the original) is technically a Western, and since it takes place in space, you could call it sci-fi. But I like to think of it as fantasy. It takes place in a galaxy so far removed that it might as well be a different universe. Humans aren't the only people, but the non-humans aren't exactly treated like aliens since they all come into so much contact--so they're more like centaurs or fauns or fairies or whatever in fantasy stories. And the Force, of course, has its similarities to magic.
But let's return to diction. Although "A long time ago" is still mostly just a Star Wars phrase, it's taken on a similar weight as "Once upon a time." You ignore both phrases, in a sense: they're just the precursor, like "the" or "said," or to what comes after. They signal what the story will be like. Because it starts with "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," nothing can seem too odd in Star Wars. Technology can be both more advanced and less than ours. Food can be normal or strange. Speech patterns can be whatever they want to be. You don't need to question anything that isn't consistent within the created universe because it is fantasy, protected by a framework of words. The storyteller has not made himself invisible, but has spoken to you directly. He has said, "Once upon a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . . "
"Once upon a time" . . . and "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away." Fairy tales and Star Wars.
Barnes & Noble Leatherbound (Front)
I've heard about how Star Wars (the original) is technically a Western, and since it takes place in space, you could call it sci-fi. But I like to think of it as fantasy. It takes place in a galaxy so far removed that it might as well be a different universe. Humans aren't the only people, but the non-humans aren't exactly treated like aliens since they all come into so much contact--so they're more like centaurs or fauns or fairies or whatever in fantasy stories. And the Force, of course, has its similarities to magic.
(Back)
But let's return to diction. Although "A long time ago" is still mostly just a Star Wars phrase, it's taken on a similar weight as "Once upon a time." You ignore both phrases, in a sense: they're just the precursor, like "the" or "said," or to what comes after. They signal what the story will be like. Because it starts with "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," nothing can seem too odd in Star Wars. Technology can be both more advanced and less than ours. Food can be normal or strange. Speech patterns can be whatever they want to be. You don't need to question anything that isn't consistent within the created universe because it is fantasy, protected by a framework of words. The storyteller has not made himself invisible, but has spoken to you directly. He has said, "Once upon a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . . "
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Revisiting Rumpelstiltskin
It's the story of a poor man's daughter who, after her father tells the king she can spin straw into gold, falls into tears because she will be killed when she fails to complete the impossible task; a strange little man appears and helps her but ultimately asks for her first child in payment, a cost which she is only able to avoid after discovering that his name is Rumpelstiltskin.
So what is it about this story that made it one of my favorite fairy tales, and what might it mean?
Going off of the Grimm versions, while some fairy tales are several pages, this one is quite short. I think that length gets your imagination going, filling in the blanks that the story doesn't go into. Why was such a poor man even in conversation with the king? Why did he tell him such a ridiculous fib when all it could accomplish was to get his daughter into trouble? Was she happy about marrying the king? Who is Rumpelstiltskin and where did he come from? Was it good that she accepted help from him? What does it mean that she beat him in the end by saying his name?
Back in middle school, I imagined how fairy tales could make great reads as novels--and I obviously wasn't the only one to have that thought. For Rumpelstiltskin, I imagined that the poor man's daughter would already love the king, and that's why she would be glad about marrying him. I could never reconcile that part of the story if I thought that she didn't love him. But the truth of the matter is, the king is just the ultimate good marriage. From a traditional or patriarchal point of view, she gains everything there is for a woman to gain by marrying him.
But Rumpelstiltskin threatens the other traditional feminine role, motherhood. By asking for her child, he is threatening the traditional idea of a family. But why does he want the child? I always wondered that. From her point of view, it is the ultimate threat, but what does he have to gain from taking a baby?
This brings us back to the question of who Rumpelstiltskin is. At the end of the story, he stomps his foot in anger, it becomes cloven in two, and he disappears into oblivion. Maybe he didn't die; maybe he just went somewhere else. Because cloven feet, well, that's satanic imagery right there. Taking Rumpelstiltskin as a demon would explain why he wants to steal away someone's child: he wants to ruin souls, spread evil, and that sort of thing. If the woman achieves a certain victory over him by discovering his name, it is because she is rebuking him with the power of words. If Jesus's name has power, then it makes sense for a story to also give some sort of power to demon's names. When the woman reveals Rumpelstiltskin's name, she is pointing out who he is and sending him back to where he came from.
But if you go with the idea of Rumpelstiltskin being a demon, it becomes unsettling that the heroine of the story (if that's what you think she is) accepts his help and owes her entire position as queen to him. Is the story, then, endorsing a little flirtation with the dark side as long as you don't let it go too far? And I can't ignore the fact that it is three times that Rumpelstiltskin helps her; three is an important number in religion. Rumpelstiltskin saved this woman's life; what if all he wants is to save her child's life, too? Is he a demon, or something else?
Either way, she makes deals with him, and deals are dangerous if you don't understand all the details. But if he hadn't helped her and if her father hadn't put her in a position to need help from Rumpelstiltskin, she and her father would both be lost. Which makes me wonder, did her father know about Rumpelstiltskin? What if Rumpelstiltskin is her father, or her grandfather, or at least her father's friend? It may be a fairy tale, but this male version of the Blue Fairy turning up just as needed is quite the coincidence.
Is Rumpelstiltskin good, bad, or crazy? Did he use the poor man's daughter, or did she use him?
So what is it about this story that made it one of my favorite fairy tales, and what might it mean?
Going off of the Grimm versions, while some fairy tales are several pages, this one is quite short. I think that length gets your imagination going, filling in the blanks that the story doesn't go into. Why was such a poor man even in conversation with the king? Why did he tell him such a ridiculous fib when all it could accomplish was to get his daughter into trouble? Was she happy about marrying the king? Who is Rumpelstiltskin and where did he come from? Was it good that she accepted help from him? What does it mean that she beat him in the end by saying his name?
Back in middle school, I imagined how fairy tales could make great reads as novels--and I obviously wasn't the only one to have that thought. For Rumpelstiltskin, I imagined that the poor man's daughter would already love the king, and that's why she would be glad about marrying him. I could never reconcile that part of the story if I thought that she didn't love him. But the truth of the matter is, the king is just the ultimate good marriage. From a traditional or patriarchal point of view, she gains everything there is for a woman to gain by marrying him.
But Rumpelstiltskin threatens the other traditional feminine role, motherhood. By asking for her child, he is threatening the traditional idea of a family. But why does he want the child? I always wondered that. From her point of view, it is the ultimate threat, but what does he have to gain from taking a baby?
This brings us back to the question of who Rumpelstiltskin is. At the end of the story, he stomps his foot in anger, it becomes cloven in two, and he disappears into oblivion. Maybe he didn't die; maybe he just went somewhere else. Because cloven feet, well, that's satanic imagery right there. Taking Rumpelstiltskin as a demon would explain why he wants to steal away someone's child: he wants to ruin souls, spread evil, and that sort of thing. If the woman achieves a certain victory over him by discovering his name, it is because she is rebuking him with the power of words. If Jesus's name has power, then it makes sense for a story to also give some sort of power to demon's names. When the woman reveals Rumpelstiltskin's name, she is pointing out who he is and sending him back to where he came from.
But if you go with the idea of Rumpelstiltskin being a demon, it becomes unsettling that the heroine of the story (if that's what you think she is) accepts his help and owes her entire position as queen to him. Is the story, then, endorsing a little flirtation with the dark side as long as you don't let it go too far? And I can't ignore the fact that it is three times that Rumpelstiltskin helps her; three is an important number in religion. Rumpelstiltskin saved this woman's life; what if all he wants is to save her child's life, too? Is he a demon, or something else?
Either way, she makes deals with him, and deals are dangerous if you don't understand all the details. But if he hadn't helped her and if her father hadn't put her in a position to need help from Rumpelstiltskin, she and her father would both be lost. Which makes me wonder, did her father know about Rumpelstiltskin? What if Rumpelstiltskin is her father, or her grandfather, or at least her father's friend? It may be a fairy tale, but this male version of the Blue Fairy turning up just as needed is quite the coincidence.
Is Rumpelstiltskin good, bad, or crazy? Did he use the poor man's daughter, or did she use him?
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Once Upon a Time I Listened
This post covers Season 1 only of Once Upon a Time; there will be some light spoilers. And I warn you that this is one of my long and rambling posts.
I've had Netflix long enough that it tends to know what I'll somewhat like and somewhat dislike; it'll at least know the general direction my opinion will go in. It's not always a perfect guesser, but it's a good one. Netflix seemed to think I would like Once Upon a Time, but I spent some time avoiding the show (is that my precursor to everything? I'm such an avoider, apparently).
But the magic is in the click.
Click on the first episode and enter the realm of the show you go. The first episode or so had me thinking, this is better than I was expecting. I was delighted to find engagement with fairy tales--versus simply alluding to characters, images, etc. and letting the only "engagement" be juxtaposing the fairy tales with modern characters, settings, or objects. But Once Upon a Time has quite a bit of thought behind it--enough to remind me of the Nick Willing miniseries I've enjoyed (Alice is my favorite, but Tin Man and Neverland are also of interest). (I once saw a comment that Once Upon a Time's Hatter ripped off of Alice's--but I'm not sure I agree that they're all too similar, after all.)
As I moved on, I also starting thinking of Wishbone. If you know me, you'll know that this comparison became a profound compliment coming from me: I think Wishbone was a wonderful show and was probably partially responsible, in a roundabout way, for my eventual decision to major in literature. Coming into Once Upon a Time, I was expecting to mainly see things in this world. At some point, I was feeling unsure about the amount of time spent in the fairy tale world. But the parallels between what was going on in that world and in this one were cleverly put together, much like the parallels Wishbone offered between books and modern day stories.
It was also fascinating to discover the characters and then rediscover them. To wonder which person in Storybrooke was which character or to see adult Pinocchio acting, thematically, like the Pinocchio of the story. The way that the characters translated into our world was fantastic, really. The fairies becoming nuns, Red Riding Hood working in a cafe, Rumplestiltskin having an antique shop and owning the whole town.
Oh, yes, Rumplestiltskin.
I love Rumplestiltskin; he's the best part of the show. No one can convince me otherwise.
Rumpelstiltskin was always one of my favorite fairy tales, maybe my top favorite. I just never knew why. It was odd. And creepy. And compelling somehow. I just liked it. I never even knew what it meant--and I wonder if most people do. It's easy to assign basic things to stories like Snow White: virtues like goodness, patience, hope and even the other one I sometimes hear of "don't talk to strangers." But Rumpelstiltskin? What does that mean? The power of language? Or cunning.
I love what they did with this character. It made me realize things about the story I like so much. They brought in his cunning and his penchant for making deals and designed an entire plot around that. Oh, and the actor--again, just try convincing me he isn't the best actor in the show (yes, his role also calls for something very different from many of the others, but still). The combination of his story with Beauty and the Beast was unexpected and also perfect (Snape and Lily, anyone?).
Which brings me to: the way the show combined fairy stories in general. I also wasn't expecting that. I was expecting them to be isolated stories that had all come together in this town. But they fit together quite well back in their own world. I enjoyed the way we were given tidbits of the story, then later learned what had happened before or after in order to gain a new perspective. We see Snow White being reawakened in the first episode and it seems like the simple Snow White story, but then we come to learn the complete (maybe) story throughout the season. This way of presenting the story I find evocative of the chameleon nature of fairy stories in general: they're told a thousand different ways, but they're somehow always the same basic beings.
That's another thing I think this show balanced well: familiarity with newness. There was mystery involved; there were surprises. But the characters also felt familiar. Even as a school teacher, that's Snow White there; we recognize her (might I also take this time to gush over her house: I want to live there; it's perfect).
I withhold my complete opinion until I've watched Season 2 (I may have to try out Hulu Plus so that I can watch the first 15 or so episodes that are out). But as you can see, my reaction is fairly positive. I don't know if this'll be a show I rewatch again and again or forget about as soon as I'm finished with it. But I'm enjoying it for now: it provided both diversion and thought. I appreciate that.
I've had Netflix long enough that it tends to know what I'll somewhat like and somewhat dislike; it'll at least know the general direction my opinion will go in. It's not always a perfect guesser, but it's a good one. Netflix seemed to think I would like Once Upon a Time, but I spent some time avoiding the show (is that my precursor to everything? I'm such an avoider, apparently).
But the magic is in the click.
Click on the first episode and enter the realm of the show you go. The first episode or so had me thinking, this is better than I was expecting. I was delighted to find engagement with fairy tales--versus simply alluding to characters, images, etc. and letting the only "engagement" be juxtaposing the fairy tales with modern characters, settings, or objects. But Once Upon a Time has quite a bit of thought behind it--enough to remind me of the Nick Willing miniseries I've enjoyed (Alice is my favorite, but Tin Man and Neverland are also of interest). (I once saw a comment that Once Upon a Time's Hatter ripped off of Alice's--but I'm not sure I agree that they're all too similar, after all.)
As I moved on, I also starting thinking of Wishbone. If you know me, you'll know that this comparison became a profound compliment coming from me: I think Wishbone was a wonderful show and was probably partially responsible, in a roundabout way, for my eventual decision to major in literature. Coming into Once Upon a Time, I was expecting to mainly see things in this world. At some point, I was feeling unsure about the amount of time spent in the fairy tale world. But the parallels between what was going on in that world and in this one were cleverly put together, much like the parallels Wishbone offered between books and modern day stories.
It was also fascinating to discover the characters and then rediscover them. To wonder which person in Storybrooke was which character or to see adult Pinocchio acting, thematically, like the Pinocchio of the story. The way that the characters translated into our world was fantastic, really. The fairies becoming nuns, Red Riding Hood working in a cafe, Rumplestiltskin having an antique shop and owning the whole town.
Oh, yes, Rumplestiltskin.
I love Rumplestiltskin; he's the best part of the show. No one can convince me otherwise.
Rumpelstiltskin was always one of my favorite fairy tales, maybe my top favorite. I just never knew why. It was odd. And creepy. And compelling somehow. I just liked it. I never even knew what it meant--and I wonder if most people do. It's easy to assign basic things to stories like Snow White: virtues like goodness, patience, hope and even the other one I sometimes hear of "don't talk to strangers." But Rumpelstiltskin? What does that mean? The power of language? Or cunning.
I love what they did with this character. It made me realize things about the story I like so much. They brought in his cunning and his penchant for making deals and designed an entire plot around that. Oh, and the actor--again, just try convincing me he isn't the best actor in the show (yes, his role also calls for something very different from many of the others, but still). The combination of his story with Beauty and the Beast was unexpected and also perfect (Snape and Lily, anyone?).
Which brings me to: the way the show combined fairy stories in general. I also wasn't expecting that. I was expecting them to be isolated stories that had all come together in this town. But they fit together quite well back in their own world. I enjoyed the way we were given tidbits of the story, then later learned what had happened before or after in order to gain a new perspective. We see Snow White being reawakened in the first episode and it seems like the simple Snow White story, but then we come to learn the complete (maybe) story throughout the season. This way of presenting the story I find evocative of the chameleon nature of fairy stories in general: they're told a thousand different ways, but they're somehow always the same basic beings.
That's another thing I think this show balanced well: familiarity with newness. There was mystery involved; there were surprises. But the characters also felt familiar. Even as a school teacher, that's Snow White there; we recognize her (might I also take this time to gush over her house: I want to live there; it's perfect).
I withhold my complete opinion until I've watched Season 2 (I may have to try out Hulu Plus so that I can watch the first 15 or so episodes that are out). But as you can see, my reaction is fairly positive. I don't know if this'll be a show I rewatch again and again or forget about as soon as I'm finished with it. But I'm enjoying it for now: it provided both diversion and thought. I appreciate that.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
"Modern Fairy Tales"
It seems everywhere I turn lately, I see another trailer for Snow White and the Huntsman. It has me thinking about the general idea of modern interpretations of a fairy tales.
There are different ways that these interpretations can work. They can try and tell the story in its original way. Or they can add twists like this movie will be doing, or like Ever After does. Or they can be removed to a different time and setting, like Enchanted or the ten movies named some variation of Another Cinderella Story. The latter two ways are something like inverted the fairy tale.
I say this because fairy tales represent aspects of their cultures, maybe in more or less abstract ways and often in changing ways. Snow White can stand for a complacent woman waiting for the marriage that will define her life, or she can be a patient and ingenuous person maintaining hope for better times. The fairy tale acts as a kind of carrier for ideas like this. But when we reinterpret fairy tales, we pull out certain aspects of it and put those into a new picture. Probably we are taking out from the original the pieces that feel most applicable to ourselves, but still we are not really making another fairy tale. It's still just inspired by a fairy tale. It has something of the abstract nature of fairy tales taken away, and it didn't form as part of a natural process (that no one remembers). We can track the progress of the creation of Snow White and the Huntsman or Enchanted, but not of the original Snow White or Cinderella tales (maybe of recordings of them, but their actual first origins).
But I don't mean to say that fairy tales are never intentional. It's a complicated thing to define a fairy tale; Tolkien, though, describes them quite well in his article "On Fairy-Stories."
I think my main point is that "modern fairy tales" aren't so much stand-alone fairy tales as they are conversations with the collective body of fairy stories. They're one person's (or one group's) take on what all these stories or versions of stories say, mean to say, should say, or could say.
There are different ways that these interpretations can work. They can try and tell the story in its original way. Or they can add twists like this movie will be doing, or like Ever After does. Or they can be removed to a different time and setting, like Enchanted or the ten movies named some variation of Another Cinderella Story. The latter two ways are something like inverted the fairy tale.
I say this because fairy tales represent aspects of their cultures, maybe in more or less abstract ways and often in changing ways. Snow White can stand for a complacent woman waiting for the marriage that will define her life, or she can be a patient and ingenuous person maintaining hope for better times. The fairy tale acts as a kind of carrier for ideas like this. But when we reinterpret fairy tales, we pull out certain aspects of it and put those into a new picture. Probably we are taking out from the original the pieces that feel most applicable to ourselves, but still we are not really making another fairy tale. It's still just inspired by a fairy tale. It has something of the abstract nature of fairy tales taken away, and it didn't form as part of a natural process (that no one remembers). We can track the progress of the creation of Snow White and the Huntsman or Enchanted, but not of the original Snow White or Cinderella tales (maybe of recordings of them, but their actual first origins).
But I don't mean to say that fairy tales are never intentional. It's a complicated thing to define a fairy tale; Tolkien, though, describes them quite well in his article "On Fairy-Stories."
I think my main point is that "modern fairy tales" aren't so much stand-alone fairy tales as they are conversations with the collective body of fairy stories. They're one person's (or one group's) take on what all these stories or versions of stories say, mean to say, should say, or could say.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The Brothers Grimm
I came into this movie (from 2005) unsure for what angle exactly it was going to go. Ten minutes in, I was still unsure. The thing about this movie is, it straddles many lines of balance. It is a historical movie, but with a fictional and sometimes fantastical premise. It is based on the Grimm brothers and their collection of fairy tales, but it does not follow that story, weaving the tales they collected into the plot instead. It is a serious drama/action movie, but with comedy, as well.
That's a lot to balance out. If done well, it's the sort of thing I might enjoy. If done badly, the result can be cringe-worthy. The Brothers Grimm was not done badly, but neither do I feel that it was done perfectly. I think some of that balance still wasn't quite right. It lacked that extra level that would make me feel more emotionally tied in.
However, I must recognize that there are some great performances in this movie. Most recognizably, Matt Damon and Heath Ledger as the brothers, but there are also other familiar faces. This isn't something I always (or often) say, but I think that the acting was what I enjoyed most in this movie. If the plot nuances didn't quite do it for me, if certain scenes didn't draw me in enough, at least I could watch these actors embody characters onscreen. Characters, too, different from those I have previously seen them play. Although I won't be rushing to rent the movie again, it's wonderful to see all the artwork that goes into productions.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)