The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part V.

The aim of this discussion was to assess the representation of women during Disney's renaissance in the late 80s and early 90s, utilising the findings to ascertain the studio's philosophy, and whether this accords with post-feminist debate, or less positive patriarchally defined gender stereotypes.

It became clear from the outset that the corporation's founder, Walt Disney, prided himself on his ability to tell stories via the means of animation, and favoured the fairy tale genre because it stood for the motifs of fun, nostalgia and wish-fulfilment that he wanted to purvey.  It subsequently seemed a logical choice to use the fairy tale as the basis for this project; examining its core themes from an analysis of its origins as an oral tradition, through to its adoption into popular culture, and using the conclusions to advance an understanding of the values of Disney's versions of the same stories.

The reasons for selecting this period as the historical site of interest were twofold; firstly, since the term 'Renaissance' has literal connotations of revival and renewal, evaluating the status of gender in this period allows investigation of whether the studio revitalised their system of beliefs to correspond to a modern outlook.  Secondly, as this renaissance occurred shortly after a shift in feminist debate, it appeared doubly significant to study Disney films from this time, in order to comprehend whether the post-feminist mode that emerged in the 1970s influenced the depictions of Disney heroines.

The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast were chosen as the central texts, owing to their long-standing heritage as well-known fairy tales, and the fact that the films appear to posit girls as the main protagonists.

In Part II, the role of the fairy tale was discussed, with the summation being that it has performed many objectives over its lifespan; from offering a sense of community and motivation, to acting as a form of trade and worship, to becoming today's recognisable symbol of hope and escapism.

While Zipes maintains that the genre was considered harmful to children, due to its covert suggestions of good versus wickedness, and the terrifying consequences of unacceptable behaviour, others including Bettelheim, argue that fairy tales help to progress the minds of young readers, allowing them to overcome anxieties by experiencing them through the safe format of a story.  It was noted that this beneficial aspect of the fairy tale, along with its ability to develop imaginative skills, is what makes Disney animations appealing to young audiences.  By setting a narrative within the colourful Disney realm, it poses no threat to a child's innocence, while retaining enough of a relationship with the real world to allow the corporation to subtly persuade the spectator into applying its values to wider society.  It was proposed that, once Disney takes ownership of a fairy tale, it uses the genre's devices of subtlety and allegory to disguise its own agendas; concealing them within an exterior that viewers have learnt to trust as genuine, and doubling their authority.

This post then detailed the evolution of Beauty and the Beast and the Little Mermaid via their multiple adaptations, from their respective derivations as Greek and Swiss folk tales, to their famous appropriations by de Beaumont and Andersen.  De Beaumont's rendering of the story is of female loyalty and devotion; Beauty does her utmost to obey and care for her father, whose needs she places well before her own.  She encounters Beast in consequence of one of her few wishes, and her relationship with him is one of acceptance; she gradually learns to love him.

De Beaumont's tale acted as a form of instruction for its female readers, telling them to not only respect their fathers, but to abide by all regulations defined by men, in order to be regarded as ideal housewife material.  Beauty's tolerance of Beast connotes that women forced into marrying threatening men needed to remain patient and understanding, so as to reveal their husband's potential for good.

Beauty, as the focal point of the story, typified expectations of young women's domestic destiny during the 18th century, and her submission to the codes of patriarchy proves advantageous to her, for with her marriage came wealth and aristocracy.

The Little Mermaid is more autobiographical, with parallels between the mermaid's life, and that of Andersen.  Both the author and his creation are fascinated by the telling of stories by their elders, and long for access to the world beyond their limited existence.  The pain that the mermaid experiences when changing into a human symbolises the mental suffering that Andersen undoubtedly went through on account of his underlying homosexual emotions, whereas her loss of voice is a metaphor for the writer being forced to repress his feelings.

Andersen's mermaid was read as being in a similarly oppressed situation to Beauty, as both girls conform to the rules of a male-dominated environment; although the mermaid has a grandmother, it is her father that dictates her regime.  The mermaid appears more autonomous than Beauty, as she takes it upon herself to find a way out of this oppression, by sacrificing her voice for liberation.  Yet, the fact she has to give up her ability to communicate means that she still can not find an equal place within society and, like Beauty, her desires cause her suffering.

Part III looked at the process of adaptation, and employed the relevant theories to a comparative investigation between Andersen and de Beaumont's texts, and Disney's films.

From engagement with the work of Hutcheon on adaptation, these posts have concluded that Disney's The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast should not be expected to retain complete fidelity to their descendants, because of the nature of adaptation to evolve to fit with the needs of its culture, and reflect the differing ideologies of its interpreters. 

In accordance with Zipes' writings, it was noted that film, as a collaborative method, will denote the general stance of those involved in its creation. This means that a series of possibly conflicting opinions would have to be combined to form one message, which would be founded on the ideologies of that time.  To this end, and as Warner concurs, when a fairy tale is cinematically adapted, the end product can be used to instruct the audience on how to respond to social issues, with the metaphorical disposition of fairy tales allowing film-makers to interweave socially-driven connotations into the seemingly safe and honest realm of film.

With this in mind, Disney's ethos becomes less innocent than it maintains, for it appears that the studio decided to take on the fairy tale genre because, as an already popular medium, it would guarantee a spectatorship that was willing and eager to absorb the underlying implications of these films.  Additionally, both Disney and the fairy tale assure comfort and wish-fulfilment and, due to the corporation's commercial influence on children in particular, through their dissemination of products, and franchised 'experiences' like the theme parks, young viewers might find it difficult to avoid Disney's version of a 'utopian kingdom', and are made to forget the morals of the adapted texts, in favour of the studio's agenda.

Propp's concept of the function of fairy tales was then utilised to conduct a close examination of the literary and cinematic renditions of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, and returned the following findings.

Firstly, Disney's mermaid is motivated by selfish and materialistic desires, in comparison to Andersen's character, who is portrayed as a victim of her curiosity, fuelled by the stories of those around her.  Andersen's mermaid wants to belong to the human world because it offers hope of living and dying as an individual that will be loved, whereas Ariel is looking to escape her oppressive father.  Ordinarily, Disney's figure appears the more positively illustrated character, as she is responsible for her decisions, and inclined to see the world with her own eyes, rather than relying on the tales of others. 

Yet Ariel comes across as a rebellious teenager, intent on the acquisition of beauty and success, and the fact that she does not die at the end of Disney's tale means that her egotistical longings are rewarded.  This indicates the importance that the corporation places on capitalism and fetishisation; where Ariel, as the ideal consumer, makes a small sacrifice to gain her innermost yearnings.

Beauty and the Beast was subjected to the same study, which found that, in opposition to the majority of literary versions of this tale, it is Beast that is positioned as the film's protagonist, not Beauty/Belle. 

The film begins with the Prince, whose violation of an interdiction causes his transformation, and it is this that the narrative focuses on throughout.  Belle is simply the answer to Beast's problems; the donor, whose own needs are inferior.  Belle and Beauty are similar in their loyalty and care towards their fathers, and it is this obedience that leads them to meet Beast.  However, whereas de Beaumont's tale follows Beauty, and her acceptance of Beast; which stands as an allegory for her as the perfect housewife in training, Disney places Beast at the centre of its narrative, casting him as the victim of female intolerance and cruelty.

Part III deduced that the changes Disney made to Andersen and de Beaumont's stories had a largely negative attitude toward the portrayal of femininity, with Beauty and the Beast in particular citing women as the perpetrators of society's errors.  Belle and Ariel are not free to make their own decisions, as initially presumed in consequence of the post-feminist culture in which the films were produced; rather, they depend on those around them to achieve mobility, and are constructs of patriarchal and consumerist belief systems.

Part IV was concerned with how questions of female identity, representation and consumerism could be found in the Disney adaptations.  It was acknowledged by Warner that folk tales have traditionally depicted women as submissive childbearers and that, once they have passed the age of reproduction, they are seen as deviant; hence the emergence of the evil, older villainess. 

Ursula, and to a lesser extent Beauty and the Beast's beggar/sorcerers, epitomise this idea via physical horror and manipulative mannerisms, while their younger counterparts retain their beauty, but have little control over their lives, and none whatsoever over the lives of others.

The sea witch proved especially intriguing, and was inferred as adopting the characteristics of a drag queen to comment on society's constructed notion of the ideal woman; performer, consumer, sex object.  She also took on the role of substitute mother to Ariel, a relationship that is not normally found in Disney films, for it contains many complexities and contradictions.  Far from being a positive change, Ursula's matriarchy is criticised by Worthington as being detrimental to the film's young viewers, since it may cause them to see their own mothers as threatening to their happiness and independence.  To this end, patriarchy's disturbing influence is pushed aside to allow for a harmful view of women as bitter, jealous rivals, prepared to go to any lengths to achieve prosperity. 

Ariel's loss of voice is deemed of little significance by Disney, who insinuates that as she has her looks, she will retain her attractiveness to the opposite sex, which will result in her achieving access to the male-dominated, capitalist realm.  It is suggested that a woman's silence is key to her appeal and contentment, and this coincided with McRobbie's argument that modern women are unlikely to complain about inequalities that may arise during their lifetime, since society has taught them to be appreciative of the liberations they have been awarded.

The subject of consumerism was then discussed, with Belle and Ariel displaying connotations of young women that want more from their lives.  Belle sings of wanting to see the world outside of her small provincial town, and her love of books suggests her desire to escape, whilst implying that she is trying to improve her education as a means of propelling herself to emancipation.  Indeed, McRobbie writes that women see qualifications as a way of attaining an independent role within society's economy, which leads to them being recompensed by their positions as powerful consumers.

Conversely, it was noted that Belle only seems to read fairy tales, suggesting her unrealistic worldviews and, with such stories as Sleeping Beauty providing the foundations for her knowledge, it was likely she would end up in the same position as her fictitious heroines; sacrificing her freedom to marry the man of her dreams.  Of course, this is how the film ends, with Belle's aspirations of seeing the world instantly forgotten, or sacrificed, when she chooses to live as a princess within the confines of Beast/Prince's castle.

Ariel too wants more from life, and her role as a consumer is illustrated by her vast collection of human artefacts.  Most notably is the mermaid's desire for legs, which is understood as representing sexuality, independence, and an appropriation of the beauty and fashion industry.  Ariel's transformation is like a metaphorical makeover, which Tasker claims is a consequence of the pressure on women to make the most of their appearance so as to appeal to the patriarchal modes of ideal femininity, and ensure a high-ranking social status.  The mermaid's painless conversion naturalises this process, while the fact that she retains this form and retrieves her voice at the film's conclusion suggests that women can have everything they desire, as long as they work hard, and comply with the rules of patriarchy.

Finally, Disney's marketing of the 'Princess' brand was considered, stemming from Ariel's remarkable resemblance of a fashion doll.  It was argued that, by making such characters as Belle and Ariel beautiful and, apparently, fortunate, they promote a certain lifestyle to young girls that, in order to achieve the same 'happy endings' as their heroines, they must model themselves on their physicality. 

By playing with plastic representations of these women, children are encouraged to create their own stories, based on what they have seen on screen.  Disney's fairy tales become the originals in the minds of these spectators, and their imaginations are enhanced by playing with the film-inspired dolls.  In reality, from a young age, audiences are coached by Disney to be the perfect consumers, and ideal images of female sexuality; with the dolls' beauty and infinite number of accessories denoting the liberating and enjoyable effect of consumption, and its promise of satisfaction and access.

Overall, the past few posts have established that, contrary to the connotations of the term 'Renaissance', Disney has not provided a completely positive representation of women within the two films that have been analysed.  Belle and Ariel are marketed as feisty, brave, strong heroines; fighting male dominance to achieve happiness.  Yet, on closer inspection, these girls are submissive, objectified constructs of patriarchal hegemony and, rather than standing as symbols of female emancipation, they are marked as indicators of compliance, commodification and fetishisation.

While Disney maintains a male bias, which is most clearly visible in Beast's apparently unfair curse, it should not be claimed that this is an unrealistic or atypical perspective.  Undeniably, post-feminist critique directly remarks on such viewpoints, which provide the very foundations of this theory.  Women, according to post-feminism, are encouraged to consume, oblige, improve, learn, and so on in order to gain what they can from a society dominated by male ideals.  Post-feminists recognise that inequalities remain, but point out the positive changes that have occurred, and concentrate on supporting women to make further improvements, by being independent, and effectively bowing to male authority.

It could be claimed that Disney is only revealing society’s contemporary philosophy on gender and that, rather than being deciphered as negative, these films are indicators of current cultural norms.  Certainly, issues of gender stereotyping and the effect that the media has on children are predominant in today's culture, and so Disney's The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast could be seen as attempts to comment on such debates, and bring them to the fore in an effort to produce change.

The basis of this examination was to assess Disney's depiction of femininity in relation to its traditionally patriarchal attitude, and it appears to have successfully demonstrated that, while not completely unrealistic, Disney is neither favourable nor hopeful in its portrayal of women, and their role within society.  

The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part IV.

As Part III has shown, de Beaumont and Andersen's tales have experienced a number of changes at the hands of Disney.  This post aims to examine the films in relation to these alterations, as well as in terms of their general themes and values, to ascertain how women are represented, and whether this corresponds with common gender stereotypes, post-feminist critique, and Disney's contemporary ethos.  To coincide with the format of the previous post, the role or, as Propp theorises, the lack of parent will first be addressed.

In a lecture on the position of women within the folk tale, Warner states that femininity has always been associated with reproduction, and that once a woman passes the age of fertility, they are seen as undesirable and unproductive.  A female that is unable to have children implies disobedience towards the laws of nature, which is emphasised in the majority of fairy tales by her horrific physicality; as in the case of the sorceress in Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), or malicious behaviour; The Little Mermaid's (Clement & Musker, 1989) Ursula:

[…] a theme develops that takes the infertile women who has passed the age of childbearing as representing in some fundamental way a transgression against the purpose of her sex, and in that transgression against the natural God-given order she can then serve to represent other pejorative and repulsive or repugnant aberrations.  (1993:72-73)

On the one hand, these women can be viewed positively as, unlike their young rivals, they are largely responsible for their own actions, and display dominance and superiority over those weaker than themselves.  They are also, according to Bell, the only women to speak to the audience via a tendency to frame them in close-up:

The narrative flow is set into motion by the actions and reactions of these women, as they respond to the behaviours of the protagonists, i.e. the sorceress' punishment of the prince's selfishness.  The fact that they are permitted to gaze directly into the camera means that they are granted the ability to challenge the viewer, both in terms of their visual perspective, and their moral outlook.  Whereas the protagonists, Belle and Ariel, are merely constructs of their surroundings, and have no influence over those that are commenting on and controlling their lives.

Naturally, these villainesses are not simple examples of positive female representations, as their power is indicative of negative patriarchal ideology.  Focusing on Ursula to begin with, while it is explained that she once lived in Triton's palace, no reason is given for her banishment; implying that she became a threat to the king's masculinity and governance, on account of her size and supernatural abilities.  Subsequently she lives alone, with her dark and foreboding cavern of residence resembling a womb, whose tunnels, containing the shrivelled remains of previous victims, lead Ariel to her fate. 

Ursula is not actually a mermaid, rather she is an octopus or, as Sells claims, an 'inverted Medusa' (1995:184), and her unattractiveness is emphasised by her grotesque obesity, particularly when viewed in contrast to Ariel's slenderness.  As such, Ursula is not part of any of the film's communities, and represents the threat of difference and otherness; specifically towards patriarchy.  Her appearance epitomises the stereotypically unattractive traits of femininity, while her weight connotes an overbearing and smothering matriarchal presence (Trites, 1990/1991). 

The fact that her cave is reminiscent of a womb suggests male anxieties towards strong and autonomous women, while her imprisonment protects men from the threat of castration; by situating her as Other, outside the norm, patriarchal hegemony is safe from being overruled. 

While it is Ariel that seeks Ursula's help in the first place, the trade that takes place; voice for soul, is fuelled just as much by the needs of the witch as those of the mermaid.  Ursula is jealous of Ariel's beauty, voice and place within Triton's kingdom, and preys on the girl's weakness; her love for Eric, in retaliation to her banishment.  Her hideousness, as Sells assents, makes Ariel's rejection of the only strong female character in favour of the male-dominated human world understandable, as she would seemingly prefer to be mute and beautiful than articulate and repulsive:

Ariel's entry into the white male system is at the expense of her connection with the mother.  The gynophobic imagery sanitizes this cost, making it more palatable.  By vilifying feminine power in the figure of Ursula, Disney simplifies Ariel's choice: in the white male system it is much easier to be silent than to be seen as monstrous. (1995:181)

In the scene where the trade takes place, Ursula sings to Ariel of the 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' (Clements & Musker, 1989) that she has allegedly helped in achieving their wishes to be more desirable.  Already, the witch is offering Ariel something that many women yearn for and, when the mermaid questions whether she can leave her family, she persuades her by stating that 'Life is full of tough choices' (Clements & Musker, 1989).  One of these choices is of course Ariel's loss of voice in exchange for a human life, but Ursula makes this seem a small sacrifice, and tells the girl that she will 'never even miss it' (Clements & Musker, 1989), and that she will still have her looks, and her body language.

Ursula's insinuation that Ariel will not need her voice when she becomes human is interesting, as it implies a patriarchal notion that silent women will become more successful and appealing.  As Walter observes, men who do not speak are stereotypically regarded as icons of masculinity, such as Pride and Prejudice's Mr Darcy; for talking is generally associated with the expressing of emotions.  Quiet men are often seen as attractive and powerful because of their ability to control their feelings, which fascinates women who long to expose these hidden depths.

In contrast, women who talk openly and frequently are commonly perceived as irritating gossips, whereas those that are silent may be considered as uneducated outsiders; unable to participate in intelligent conversation.  Alternatively, as Warner and McRobbie propose, a quiet woman can signify compliance; a concept that dates back to mediaeval imagery, where Obedience was always portrayed with her hand over her mouth (Warner, 1993:72).  Warner goes on to describe that, if a woman answered back, she would be punished by the removal of her beauty, and an increase in her age.  Thus, what typifies the ideal woman; good-looking and reproductive, is taken away, which may have been Ursula's fate, as perhaps she verbally challenged Triton's authority, leading to her incarceration and ugliness:

'Hence the connections between beauty and virtue on the one hand, and ugliness and vice on the other.' (1993:72-73)

McRobbie applies a post-feminist critique to this way of thinking, suggesting that due to the recent increase in female emancipation, and the general consensus that the sexes are equal, women feel unable to speak out against any disparities, as they fear they will be looked upon as troublemakers.  Hence, it seems women tend not to complain if they are treated unfairly, for society assumes that they should be grateful for the freedoms they have been granted, as McRobbie posits:

'[…] the new female subject is, despite her freedom, called upon to be silent, to withhold critique in order to count as a modern sophisticated girl.  Indeed this withholding of critique is a condition of her freedom.' (2009:18)

If a woman was to challenge the media's objectification of her gender for instance, she could be criticised for opposing the very liberations that she has been awarded, as women are now encouraged to embrace their sexuality through such means as clothing and make-up, which are presented to them via magazines, television and posters.

Ursula symbolises Warner's vision of a woman who spoke against a strong patriarchal presence, and by instructing Ariel to remain silent, she is passing on her wisdom of this experience that, when viewed in this way, can be seen as a means of protecting the mermaid from drawing attention to her inferior intelligence and cultural knowledge. 

Following Ursula's song, Ariel's quick acceptance implies that perhaps she is already aware of the limitations of her voice; indeed, when the sea witch first sets out the conditions, Ariel replies with 'But without my voice how can I...' (Clements & Musker, 1989), as if she is unable to construct a cohesive argument even with the ability of speech.   Consequently, Ariel replicates the woman of the post-feminist era as, although attached to her voice as a means of expression, which Disney emphasises by making her a talented singer, she understands that she will gain more success and admiration from staying mute.

Speech is one of the key signs of a woman's identity, and without it, Ariel must rely on another of her feminine indicators; her body.  Ursula's physical form works to accentuate outward appearance, as her lack of femininity evokes an image similar to that of a drag queen (Sells, 1995:182). According to Sells, Disney's director of animation, Ruben Acquine, cited the legendary drag artist Divine as the inspiration for Ursula's look, and it is this that enables a closer study of this character. 

The 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' sequence could be read as Ursula's drag routine, as her actions simulate those of a performer preparing herself to go on stage, where she proceeds to sing and dance provocatively, even using her pet eels, Flotsam and Jetsam, as substitutes for a feather boa:

Ursula's lack of femininity means that this performance is exactly that; a satirical acting out of what it is to be a woman.  Rather than making her seem womanly, the witch's overt use of make-up and coiffured hair appears false, as if it is part of the show, or 'masquerade' (Sells, 1995:182).  Ursula is teaching Ariel the physicalities of how to be a woman, yet Sells suggests that this character is so far removed from womanliness that she is not representing herself as a prime example, but as a recreation of a female:

'In Ursula's drag scene, Ariel learns that gender is performance; Ursula doesn't simply symbolize woman, she performs woman.' (1995:182)

Sells notes that Ariel is taught another lesson by her elder, that to be a woman she must act accordingly, modelling herself to fit with the ideals that correlate with her gender.  Later, when a newly transformed Ariel encounters Eric on the beach, it is clear that Ursula's coaching has paid off, as the mermaid turns to mischievously smile and wink at her friends, demonstrating that she is acutely aware that this is all a game.

Ariel and Ursula's mimicking of the female form, as well as the mermaid's falsification of humanity, stresses the way that the motifs of gender are created.  Ursula as drag queen seeks to remind the viewer that a large proportion of gender-specific behaviours are learnt; influenced by, and modified to fit with, the established norms of society.  Women are 'supposed' to be interested in fashion and beauty, in order to be sexually alluring and successful, and the fact that they are essentially allowed to present themselves as they like, means that the general consensus is one of liberation and equality.  In some respects this is true; with post-feminist discourse assenting that a woman's freedom of expression is a result of a rise in sexual parity, and that the relationship they now have with maintaining their appearance is an enjoyable one.  In Walter's view:

In this final march towards equality, the puritanism that was expressed by so many earlier feminists is a hindrance rather than a help.  Puritanism alienates women as it does not reflect the real, often wickedly enjoyable relationship they have with their clothes and their bodies. (1998:86)

In opposition is the view that women are still subjected to the patriarchal system of values that decree what is appropriate in terms of dress, gesture and mannerisms and, if they were to dramatically go against these rules in pursuit of emancipation, they could be labelled as being too provocative and suggestive. 

It appears that it is the latter perspective that is presented in The Little Mermaid, since Ursula is not illustrated as a woman, but as a cultural construction of womanhood.  If the scenario had been different, and she was depicted naturally, with less make-up and a reduced emphasis on the importance of body language, Ursula might have connoted the principles of Walter's above statement; that women are responsible for their own appearance.  As it stands, with Ursula the drag queen, Disney is implying the androcentric view that women focus on their exteriors in order to benefit men, who are also the dictators of feminine appeal.  The sea witch is effectively a man disguised as a woman, which signifies the hidden patriarchal values at the centre of this film that are literally masqueraded as female independence and emancipation.

The opening premise of this post raised the issue of the role of the parent in fairy tales, and it could be contended that Ursula takes on this position as a substitute mother for Ariel.  Whereas in Andersen's story the mermaid seeks advice regarding the outside world from her grandmother, Ariel receives her facts from Ursula; the only creature to tell her the truth about the humans.  It is Ursula that Ariel calls upon at her time of need, and it is the witch that teaches her how to act, which serves to keep the girl safe once she is among the humans; even if it is more of an advantage for Ursula. 

To return to Worthington's ideas discussed in Part III, the mother/daughter relationship is regularly omitted by Disney because of the difficulties in portraying this multifaceted connection.  If a matriarch does feature, they are generally viewed as a destructive presence, and display feelings of jealousy, rivalry and spite towards their children or step-children.  Ariel shuns the possibility of becoming like Ursula by choosing to live as a human, but the fact that it is the sea witch that gives her this option has maternal connotations.  It is Ursula, as mother, that offers her 'child' the promise of an enjoyable and successful life and, as White proposes, her physical appearance could be deemed as endearing and comforting, with her girth actually giving the impression of softness and warmth:

'Perhaps this is why Ursula, for all her villainy, is a lovable character, whose obesity must be rejected by the girl viewer on aesthetic grounds, but whose ample, maternal folds may also offer vague refuge.' (1993:191-192)

In a sense, Ursula gives Ariel the emotional support that she likely does not receive from her oppressive father, who is more intent on ensuring that his daughter abides by his regime: 'As long as you are living under my ocean, you'll obey my rules' (Clements & Musker, 1989).  Hence, Ursula's contract serves as Ariel's way out of this patriarchal environment; albeit to one that is equally male-dominated.

However, it is made clear from early on in the film that Ursula is resentful of her banishment, and is prepared to go to any lengths to take revenge.  Like the typical villain of Propp's thesis, Ursula receives information on her impending victim, Ariel, via another character, in this case two; Flotsam and Jetsam, who report on the mermaid's infatuation with Prince Eric.  The witch sees this as the ideal opportunity for retaliation, stating that Ariel may be the solution to Triton's downfall; thus the girl is simply a pawn in Ursula's scheme.  Here, Nadel alleges that Ursula stands as an icon of the 'backlash' mode of feminism (1997:94), which witnessed a move by women to overthrow long-standing patriarchal mores, even if this involved harming their own kin:

These feminists [...] aim, according to the mythology of backlash, not to advance women so much as to destroy male-dominated institutions.  Women, in this scenario, are their innocent victims not their beneficiaries.  In adhering to this description Ursula attempts to undermine the advances she has facilitated so that Ariel and, more important, Triton will be in her complete control. (1997:94)

It becomes apparent then, that Ursula remains a jealous and self-motivated mother, and any positive implications that she may possess, as described by White, are overshadowed by her unsavoury character.  Envious that Ariel has everything that she does not, Ursula feels threatened, even though she is an extremely powerful force.  Worthington suggests that this is a sign of the culture in which the film was made, where mature women who may have fulfilled their potentials in terms of social class, wealth and employment are looked upon as less important and influential than their younger counterparts:

These equations of the young beauty with goodness and purity and the older woman with jealousy and evil give a very stark indication of society's viewpoint: as the older woman becomes less beautiful and the young girl becomes more so, the older woman loses social value, despite the fact that she is at that moment […] at the height of her social power and sexual maturity.  According to these films, unless a woman is "the fairest one of all," she is worthless and, subsequently, evil. (2009:34)

Worthington maintains that this tendency to illustrate the older woman as insignificant and bitter is damaging to the beliefs of young female spectators, who may apply this reasoning to their real mothers, and consider them devious menaces, rather than sites of love and encouragement.  This opposes Walter's notion, as examined in the introduction, that women share a number of intrinsic values and principles, based on a common desire for equality.  Instead, The Little Mermaid posits women as being in competition with each other, serving to dislocate this post-feminist sense of unity, resulting in a negation of the true adversary; patriarchy.  Consequently, Disney intimates that male domination is not such a disturbing power as female rivalry, and that, in reality, it is not patriarchy to blame for society's inequalities, but women's apparent need to better one another.

Beauty and the Beast is similarly derogative towards the trustworthiness and selfish intentions of women, who are to blame for the downfalls of men and, in a wider context, society.  The film's opening, where the prince is punished by a sorcereress for his selfishness, lays the foundations for the narrative's undertone; that the Beast is an innocent victim of female wickedness. 

As has been demonstrated, the main character of Disney's Beauty and the Beast is the Beast/Prince rather than Beauty who, since the tale's oral origins, has nearly always been positioned as the protagonist.  Disney's adaptation of the traditional story, made most famous by de Beaumont, places more importance on Beast's enchantment; the details of which are not revealed until the end of most literary versions.   Not only is the Beast/Prince automatically placed as the hero on account of his receipt of an interdiction but, by commencing the tale with him, the audience is led to sympathise with his plight first and foremost, above any allegiances they may make with Belle, whose own story is secondary.  Moreover, Jeffords insists that the Prince's attitude towards the beggar is a product of a poor upbringing, and that this is evidenced in the film by his spoilt, uneducated and rude demeanour:

[…] in contrast to the commanding, sophisticated, and intelligent Beasts that frequent the other tales and that finally make them so deserving of Beauty's love, this Beast seems childish, blustering, "clumsy", petulant, and untutored.  As with his upbringing and his initial acquisition of his selfish personality, the Beast does not have to take responsibility for his behaviour.  (1995:169)

Accordingly, the parents are cited as detrimental to their child's welfare, and the fact that the Prince's family is nowhere to be seen means that they are not given the opportunity to defend themselves, with their absence making their son appear more vulnerable.  It is this vulnerability that the villain plays on, manipulating a man who has limited social skills, and turning him into a prisoner of his physical and cultural environment.

Belle, the donor, is situated as Beast's saviour, as well as his tutor; teaching him how to read, dance, and show patience.  The role of this Beauty may be important, for it is her devotion and love that helps Beast transform, but her character remains minor in comparison to her student. 

Visually, Beast dominates the frame, symbolically overshadowing the smaller Belle , who literally has to look up when speaking to him.  Thus, on top of being metaphorically located as the hero, Beast is bodily illustrated in this way, with his size signifying his male power and authority, trapped within the confines of the screen that, arguably, holds a generally female gaze:

Belle's aptitude for caring for Beast stems from the ineffectuality of her father, who seems incapable of looking after himself, let alone his daughter.  Maurice is an inventor and, as such, is characterised as a stereotypically odd and eccentric man, who likely spends more time on his latest project than with Belle.   Consequently, she has probably had to raise herself; as again there is no mother figure, in tandem with minding her father, hence a reversal of the traditional parent/child relationship.  This is shown when Belle takes Maurice's place as Beast's prisoner, a deed that Byrne and McQuillan describe as a 'classic piece of maternal self-sacrifice' (1999:67) and, certainly, Belle's tendency to put the needs of others before her own makes her the most parentally responsible character in the film.

Like de Beaumont's Beauty, Belle loves to read, and it is this that marks her as an intelligent woman.  McRobbie claims that, in today's post-feminist culture, women are invited to actively obtain a considerable education that is then traded for a higher-ranking position within employment, and society.  In other words, the most highly qualified, hard-working and determined women are recompensed by greater economic and social autonomy, or as McRobbie argues:

'Nowadays the young woman's success seems to promise economic prosperity on the basis of her enthusiasm for work and having a career.' (2009:58)

There is a drawback to this situation; this recent freedom of participation in the wider economy reminds women of the advancements that have occurred to allow it, which McRobbie contends may cause women to feel indebted to, and unworthy of, their male co-workers:

'[Women] are invited to recognise themselves as privileged subjects of social change, perhaps they might even be expected to be grateful for the support they have received.' (2009:58)

Belle's literary pursuits primarily imply her astuteness, and longing to increase her learning, yet the book that she states is her favourite is none other than Sleeping Beauty; a fairy tale, which has the converse effect of representing her as a romantic dreamer, rather than a woman seeking cultural emancipation.  In reality, Belle's books provide her with a form of escapism, and in her song 'Little Town', she sings of her wish for 'adventure in the great wide somewhere' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), though she does not know where, or how, to achieve this. 

Additionally, this hobby isolates Belle from the rest of the town, who label her as strange and distant, while Gaston, the film's resident bully and Beast's antithesis, tells her that it is not right for women to read because it gives them ideas, and 'gets them thinking' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991).

Subsequently, Belle does not accord with McRobbie's notion of the intellectual post-feminist, as she reads for comfort rather than mental and cultural development, and bases her worldviews on the exploits of her beloved fairy tale characters.  Her song tells of her hopes of seeing the world, but she gives up on this dream by agreeing to be Beast's prisoner, and then again at the film's conclusion, when she becomes the Prince's wife.  Once more, Belle has had to forfeit her aspirations in favour of those of the people around her; even if she is perceived by the viewer as intelligent, this does not benefit her in the ways McRobbie suggests it should, for as Murphy claims, she does not gain social or economic independence, but is trapped by the needs of the Prince, within the custodial walls of his castle:

The abandonment of that wider world in exchange for princesshood reinscribes the validity of androcentric promotion of escapism as the answer to the contemporary cultural debate about the nature of gender relationships – the smart woman gets the prince not by dint of her intellect but by means of her self-sacrificing devotion and love. (1995:133-134)

McRobbie's hypothesis goes on to pronounce that, when women achieve what they believe to be freedom in the workplace, they do so at a price since, not only is this liberation limited, but it acts as consolation for the remaining inequalities that are yet to be addressed.  One area in which women are entitled to greater participation is consumerism, which goes hand-in-hand with financial independence.

By taking on economic responsibilities, and being targeted as powerful consumers, as previously detailed by Tasker, women are coerced into thinking that they can readily make their own decisions surrounding such spheres as appearance, home-life, and employment.  Plus, as a product of the sex trade's blending into popular culture, the taboos of talking about sex, and wearing make-up and revealing clothing, have been removed; resulting in women feeling confident and authoritative when shopping.  The media takes advantage of this modern relationship that women have with their bodies, and advises them on how to improve themselves to obtain personal satisfaction, and to appeal to the male gaze.  Therefore, femininity is sold as a commodity that women are willing to buy into since consumption is an enjoyable and restorative act, and this is further demonstrated by the rise of the makeover, where women who are unhappy with their outer selves are applauded for making changes that fit with social acceptability; explained by McRobbie here:

The authoritative voice of consumer culture is intimate, cajoling and also encouraging […].  By generating body dissatisfaction, the beauty and fashion industries respond directly to the fraught state of non-identity which we all inhabit and which is predicated on unfathomable loss, a loss which is incurred at the cost of acquiring language and sexual identity.  The young woman is congratulated, reprimanded and encouraged to embark on a new regime of self-perfectibility (i.e. self-completion) in the hope of making good this loss.  (2009:62-63)

Both Belle and Ariel indulge in consumerist fantasies of escape from the limitations of their lives, with the outside world symbolising the same promises of freedom and wish-fulfilment that Disney proffers.  Disney is a site of mass commodification and extensive marketing campaigns, which will be evaluated shortly, and for a viewer to enjoy the 'benefits' that the studio assures, they need to buy into the company; exchanging independent beliefs for a patriarchally manufactured product.

Ariel is the most obvious consumer of the two, with her collection of shipwreck finds standing as a visual metaphor for her yearning to belong to a more industrious environment.  In 'Part of That World', Ariel sings of wanting more than she has, which is in reference to her coveting of human legs, for she believes that if she can run and dance, she will belong.  Byrne and McQuillan claim that dancing is directly related to the consumerist modes of fashion and beauty (1999:25), and it could be further argued that Ariel sees legs as a means of escaping her father's oppressive rules, and achieving independence; demonstrated in the following lyrics:

'Betcha on land they understand.  Bet they don't reprimand their daughters.  Bright young women, sick of swimming, ready to stand.' (Clements & Musker, 1989)

Ariel wants to physically change herself to fit with what is regarded as beautiful in the outside world, because she thinks that this is the only way she can attain autonomy and happiness.  Ariel's transformation has interesting parallels with the makeover phenomenon in feminine culture, and Tasker's writings highlight the pressure on women to make themselves as attractive as possible in order to concur with societal norms.  The fact that the alteration does not hurt, unlike the agony that Andersen's mermaid experiences, suggests to the female spectator that such sacrifices are relatively painless, and that modifying their bodies is an acceptable part of the journey towards satisfaction, desirability and success.

At a time when plastic surgery is commonplace for women who are unhappy with their figures, and made to feel additionally self-conscious by the media's fetishisation of perfection, Disney insinuates that complete adaptation is key to accomplishing admission into male-dominated society.  Ariel's love for Eric is simultaneously love for what he possesses; legs, and the products of his world that she treasures.  In this respect, and as Nadel argues, Ariel's longing for change is representative of patriarchy's personification of the ideal woman, and her shallow need to have everything she lacks:

'For Ariel, in other words, humans are fetishized objects, attractive because of their material possessions and attractive like them.' (1997:92)

Even before her human makeover, Ariel is sexualised, wearing only seashells or 'cupcakes' (Sendac in Millar, 1997:9) over her breasts, and with copious amounts of billowing red hair:

It is no accident that Ariel resembles the fashion dolls that have become so popular with adolescent girls for, as well as wanting to look a certain way, the mermaid is Disney's superlative marketing device; selling the corporation's 'Princess' brand as a lifestyle choice.

Hutcheon states that a film's broad range of merchandise allows children to re-enact their own versions of the tales that they have seen on screen; tapping into their infinite imaginations, and forming another type of adaptation.  Children are persuaded to participate in, and take ownership of, the stories, and Disney aids this process by bringing together its dolls under the umbrella of the 'Princess' trademark.  This is justified, according to Worthington, as it apparently makes it easier for children to create more extensive make-believe worlds by having the characters cross over and interact, which means that favourites do not need to be picked, and profits therefore rise. 

Since these dolls are undoubtedly based on the media's limiting view of the perfect woman, with Bell drawing comparisons between Ariel and Farrah Fawcett (1995:110), while the figures are supposed to stand as blueprints for their owners, there is consequently a blurring between reality and fantasy.  The dolls' stick thin torsos, shiny hair and flawlessly made-up faces, coupled with their endless accessories, promotes consumerism in its most primitive form; the need to appeal, acquire, and achieve.  Walter draws attention to this obscuring of 'doll' and 'real girl' as follows:

This strange melding of the doll and the real girl can continue way beyond childhood.  Living a doll's life seems to have become an aspiration for many young women, as they leave childhood behind only to embark on a project of grooming, dieting and shopping that aims to achieve the bleached, waxed, tinted look of a Bratz or Barbie doll. (2010:2)

Disney uses its toys to erase the memories of the fairy tales that it has adapted, by encouraging children to play out the stories as presented to them by the studio, and to sell an idyllic existence that is founded upon patriarchy, capitalism, and consumerism. 

While it could be debated that the sexiness of these dolls is in accordance with the changing attitude towards femininity, and the freedoms that have allegedly been granted, it may be suggested that, actually, they indicate that for a girl to be successful, she must look like them; sacrificing any sense of independence in order to conform with society's predetermined conventions of glamour.

Bibliography:

Bell, E., Hass, L. & Sells, L. (eds.) (1995) From Mouse To Mermaid: The Politics of Film, Gender and Culture, Indiana University Press: Indiana.

― Bell, E. 'Somatexts at the Disney Shop', p.107-125.

― Jeffords, S. 'The Curse of Masculinity: Disney's Beauty and the Beast', p.161-172.

― Murphy, D. P. '"The Whole Wide World Was Scrubbed Clean" The Androcentric Animation of Denatured Disney', p.125-137.

― Sells, L. 'Where Do the Mermaids Stand?  Voice and Body in The Little Mermaid', p.175-192.

― Zipes, J. 'Breaking the Disney Spell', p.21-42.

Byrne, E. & McQuillan, M. (1999) Deconstructing Disney, Pluto Press: London

Hutcheon, L. (2006) A Theory of Adaptation, Routledge: New York.

Le Prince de Beaumont, J. M. (2008) Beauty and the Beast, Forgotten Books.

McRobbie, A. (2009) The Aftermath of Feminism: Gender, Culture and Social Change, SAGE Publications: London.

Millar, P. (1997) 'Plunder - Disney Tears up Our Heritage' in: The European Issue, August 28-September 3, p.8-12.

Nadel, A. (1997) 'The Pretty Woman, The Little Mermaid, and the Working Girl Become "Part of That World", in: Flatlining on the Field of Dreams: Cultural Narratives in the Films of President Reagan's America, Rutgers University Press: New Brunswick, New Jersey and London, p.86-113.

Petrie, D. (ed.) (1993) Cinema and the Realms of Enchantment, BFI: London.

― Warner, M. 'The Uses of Enchantment: Lecture at the National Film Theatre, 7 February 1992, p.13-35.

― Warner, M. 'Women against Women in the Old Wives' Tale: Internal PFI Seminar, 26 February 1992', p.63-84.

Propp, V.  Morphology of the Folktale (1968) Indiana University Press: USA.

Trites, R. (1990/1991) 'Disney's Sub/Version of The Little Mermaid', in: Journal of Popular Television and Film Vol. 18, p.145-159

Walter, N. (1998) The New Feminism, Little, Brown: London.

Walter, N. (2010) Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism, Virago Press: London.

Warner, M. (1994) From The Beast To The Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers, Random House: London.

White, S. (1993) 'Split Skins: Female Agency and Bodily Mutilation in The Little Mermaid' in: Collins, J.; Radner, H.; & Preacher Collins, A. (eds.) Film Theory Goes to the Movies, Routledge: London, p.182-196.

Worthington, M. (2009) 'The Motherless "Disney Princess": Marketing Mothers out of the Picture' in: Hall, A. C. & Bishop, M. J. (eds.) Mommy Angst: Motherhood in American Popular Culture, ABC-Clio, LLC: California, p.29-46.

The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part III.

Following on from the last post, which looked at the role and function of the fairy tale, and the progression of The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989) and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), this post will take an analytical approach to the Disney films; using the information regarding any alterations to identify whether they are significant in terms of what they suggest about changing attitudes towards feminism.

In 1989 The Little Mermaid was adapted by Disney to become the first feature of the studio's renaissance, and was followed two years later by a revision of the Beauty and the Beast story.  They proved popular amongst cinema-goers, with The Little Mermaid being the 13th highest grossing film in its year of release, and Beauty and the Beast ranking third in 1991 (Box Office Mojo, 2011), but were generally panned by scholars, owing to the alterations that had been made to the tales.

In her writings on adaptation, Hutcheon notes that it is common for filmic versions to be perceived negatively, as they will always be secondary to their literary precursors, and can never match the expectations of every spectator.  On a basic level Hutcheon surmises that, because literature has existed far longer than cinema, it will be regarded as the greater medium, with film never being more than second-best.

The term adaptation literally implies the practice of alteration and adjustment of an item, in order for it to correspond with its changing surroundings, and the variable needs of its consumers.  Hutcheon equates this process with Darwin's theory of evolution, stating that a story's journey from place to place, carried from one teller to another, means that it will be influenced by such elements as the culture, society and religion in which it finds itself.  In this respect, Hutcheon sees the life of a tale as going on indefinitely, fuelled by the input of multiple narrators; yet its meaning can never be fixed, as each relator will use their own perspective to make the story understandable and significant to their current values.

To think of narrative adaptation in terms of a story's fit and its process of mutation of adjustment, through adaptation, to a particular cultural environment is something I find suggestive.  Stories also evolve by adaptation and are not immutable over time.  Sometimes, like biological adaptation, cultural adaptation involves migration to favorable conditions: stories travel to different cultures and different media.  In short, stories adapt just as they are adapted. (2006:31)

Despite the fact that adaptation naturally denotes change, some believe that all derivations must remain completely faithful to their source, so as to avoid disappointing the viewer, and violating their expectations of what may be the latest rendition of their favourite story.  The appeal of watching a cinematic adaptation may be that it creates feelings of nostalgia and familiarity for the audience, who might have grown up with that particular tale, or have fond memories associated with it.  These feelings would surely be heightened in the case of a Disney version of a fairy tale, as both of these institutions signify tender recollections of childhood innocence, security and comfort, and their adaptation echoes the repeated re-reading of these stories during a child's lifetime.

On the other hand, those that appreciate the true implication of the term adaptation should understand the inevitable differences that will occur between versions that may lead to anticipation and suspense for the audience, enhancing the excitement surrounding which elements will be included, and how the director will interpret them, which is summarised by Hutcheon in the following statement:

'[…] perhaps the real comfort lies in the simple act of almost but not quite repeating, in the revisiting of a theme with variations.' (2006:115)

Those seeking fidelity appear to forget one of the most fundamental principles of film-making; its creativity, and that if a director did produce a carbon copy of pre-existing material, they would be criticised for plagiarism, and for lacking in artistry, individuality, and talent.

Unlike writing, film-making is a collaborative process, and Hutcheon considers it difficult to cite the director as the chief adapter, as there are other participants involved, including the scriptwriter, who is one of the first to modify a text to make it suitable for the screen, and the editor, who must ensure that the finished piece is cohesive, and that the themes it contains are easily recognised throughout.  The emergence of auteur theory in 1940s France positioned the director as being solely accountable for a film's look, yet today, while there are still subscribers to this polemic, it is widely believed that a film is a product of a team, and that not only does each member have their own duty, but they all bring their opinions and beliefs to the set. 

Zipes agrees with the complexities of who exactly can be considered the adapter, arguing that because a story is liable to change over time, an adaptation can not be based on one fixed version, as it is likely that those involved with producing the film will have conflicting memories of a tale, and will infer different meanings from it.

It could be said then, that any film made will reflect the general consensus of its collaborators, and that the requirement of adaptations to be first interpreted in order to be re-interpreted means that the deduced meaning is one based on multiple perspectives that are combined to create a singular ideology; often differing greatly to that of the sole author.  In this respect, a thorough analysis of Disney's The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast should reveal the company's philosophy at the time that these films were made, and the methods employed to convey the relevant motifs.

Warner suggests that, due to film's re-interpretive nature; the fact that it can reflect current cultural values and themes, and can reshape an existing story to fit with these ideologies means that, when it takes the form of a fairy tale that already has denotations of transformation and alteration, it can be utilised as the packaging for commenting on contemporary issues, and how best to solve them, which can be interwoven into a familiar narrative.  As such, the fairy tale film can convert real life concerns into the trials and tribulations of the on-screen protagonists in their make-believe worlds; forming a newly manufactured perspective on reality as held by its creators, and asking the audience to re-evaluate their attitudes, behaviours, and roles within society:

The fairy tale […] becomes a tool for thought, a multicoloured skein of images with which to think about the real, both reiterating and shaping the real in restructured narratives, reassembled images. (1993:17)

The revision of prior material guarantees a willing audience, i.e. those that can be regarded as 'fans' (Laurel, 2005, in Hutcheon, 2006:116), so an adaptation is a safe bet for studios, as it comes complete with a ready-made spectatorship.  Disney, which pulls mass audiences for reasons discussed in Chapter One, is able to widen this appeal with the release of its adapted fairy tales that are enjoyed by viewers of all ages. 

Consequently, Disney can use such tales as The Little Mermaid as a vehicle for its own beliefs and objectives; for instance, Byrne and McQuillan target the mermaid's name in the film, Ariel, as a site of consumerist connotations.  They argue that the name 'Ariel' holds associations with the device used to send and receive television signals.  As she simultaneously shares her name with a well-known variety of washing powder, Ariel becomes a symbol of commodification and marketing; as advertisements for such products are sent across the globe innumerable times via satellite.  In other words, Byrne and McQuillan posit Ariel as a reflection of capitalism, branding and necessity, which Disney further illustrates via her extensive hoard of shipwreck finds:

[…] 'Ariel' is [...] a popular brand of soap powder in Western Europe.  An 'aerial' is also the receptive apparatus on a television, the part which absorbs and mediates signals from outside.  In terms of the Eastern bloc this means picking up channels of communication from the West, in particular advertisements for consumer goods.  She is then the very embodiment of consumer-fetishism and demonstrates this by collecting 'human stuff' [...].  (1999:23)

As mentioned previously, Disney positions itself as a communicator of knowledge and wisdom to its viewers, and guarantees to provide feelings of community and comfort in the form of its beautiful scenery, engaging characters, and its apparently innocent principles.  It is clear that Disney implemented the fairy tale genre as a means to conceal its own agenda, distracting the audience with fantasy and promises of wish-fulfilment, while subliminally delivering ideas of consumerism and mass-production.  In addition, Zipes (2011) claims that one of the key reasons for Walt Disney's employment of the fairy tale was to place himself as not only the best storyteller, but the teller of the best stories. 

According to Zipes, Disney's aim to be a site of enchantment and pleasure was perpetuated by its underlying aspirations for the status of utopia, which could be achieved by replacing the memories of classic tales with those of their animated adaptation.  By applying Disney's famous signature to each film, the studio inscribes ownership over the stories and, rather than commemorating the fairy tale's longevity, the viewer is made to forget, and believe that this version is the original and, subsequently, the superior. 

Conversely, Disney neither encourages freedom of imagination, nor stands as the provider of desire; rather, it pushes its own opinions and views on to the spectator, who is effectively powerless to resist, as they have long been persuaded into believing everything this institution tells them.  Disney's pledge to satisfy the needs and wants of its audience means its ethos will be accepted willingly, with little challenge, because of the trust the studio has engendered.  Zipes explains that:

The telos of all Disney's fairy-tale films is to shape the vision of the spectators so that they are convinced and believe that they share in the values and accomplishments of the narrative, thus obviating any or all contradictions.  The imagination of the spectators is thus curbed by the calculations of fantasy imposed by the film, and individual wishes are denied or caught in the snare of the fantasy. (2011:25)

Disney was not the first film-maker to adapt fairy tales, as the tradition began with Méliès at the end of the 19th century, who used his famous creativity to recreate the stories of Perrault.  Warner writes that the long-standing fascination that directors have with this genre is a result of its ability to reproduce the subconscious thoughts that exist within every viewer.  Like the teachings of Bettelheim, Warner explains that film can tap into, and visually recreate, the anxieties that are shared by spectators, bringing these fears into consciousness, and allowing them to be addressed and overcome.  Hence, the escapist enchantment and fantasy of a fairy tale film allows for the covert tackling of individual and societal dilemmas, and works to resolve these by instructing the audience to conform to a prescribed set of rules and regulations that, in reality, benefit the desired polemic of those behind the camera.

To most effectively trace the alterations that Disney has made to the literary versions of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, and understand their motivations, this dissertation will use Propp's model as a basis for a comparative analysis between de Beaumont's; as the most familiar rendition, and Andersen's tales, and their cinematic equivalents.  The findings of this investigation will be discussed throughout the remainder of this chapter, while the third section of this dissertation will respond to any discoveries that are related to questions of female representation from a post-feminist viewpoint.

Propp's Morphology of the Folktale, first published in 1928, describes how all fairy tales are constructed from a selection of 31 basic functions and that, while every function may not be found in every tale, they will always appear in the same order.  This goes some way to explaining the repetitive nature of the fairy tale, whose familiarity is produced not only by its re-reading and re-telling, but by the recycling of its essential framework.  Principally, a function is the specific behaviours of the story's protagonists; how they react to events, and how these reactions impact on others, and on the narrative's progression or, to use Propp's definition:

'Function is understood as an act of a character, defined from the point of view of its significance for the course of the action.' (1968:21)

By studying which functions occur, and to whom they have been attributed; the 'dramatis persona' (1968:20), the meanings and purpose of a tale can be established. 

In the majority of cases, a fairy tale will begin with an 'initial situation' (1968:25) that could be one of a number of seemingly insignificant facts, which, will form the catalyst for the following chain of events, or functions.   In the literary versions of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, the initial situation is the introduction of the respective families, with Beauty and the mermaid being positioned as the youngest of six children.  Bettelheim suggests that, when a protagonist is the youngest sibling, it reflects the fragile condition of a child's ego, and their fears surrounding adulthood, serving to provide them with future aspirations, and feelings of support and comfort. 

While Ariel does have sisters in Disney's interpretation, they play a smaller role than in Andersen's book; where their first experiences above the surface are described; they visit the mermaid after her human transformation; and sell their hair to the sea witch in exchange for the knife that the youngster must use to kill the prince.  Instead, the scenes in which Ariel's sisters appear are towards the beginning of the film, when they are seen singing and dancing as part of a concert, and later, following Ariel's first meeting with Prince Eric, where they are admiring their reflections in a mirror.  It could be argued that the lack of focus on Ariel's siblings increases her importance and independence as the film's lead, making her more responsible for the decisions that she will make as the story progresses.  Yet, a likewise effect could have been achieved from the complete absence of sisters, as their role in the narrative is minimal; they are merely there to perform, cajole Ariel into taking care of her appearance, and inform their oblivious father that his youngest is in love. 

Though it initially seems that Disney has provided Ariel with sisters as a mode of emotional support and female solidarity, and to alleviate the concerns of their young viewers, they instead connote values of beauty, vanity, and bodily appearance.

Unlike her literary counterpart, Belle is an only child, relieved from the intolerance and spitefulness of Beauty's sisters.  Again, this could signify Belle's autonomy, and the freedom to make her own choices, rather than succumbing to the pressures of her siblings' attitudes, as in the case of Beauty.  However, as this dissertation will go on to argue, Belle is not the liberated and empowered figure that Disney alludes to; in fact, she is not even the film's protagonist.

As well as the presentation of the family, the initial situation could include the introduction of the protagonist, either by name, or via a description of their personality and familial role.  This occurs in de Beaumont's tale, and mutually in Andersen's, where the merits of Beauty and the little mermaid are laid out in contrast to the pair's siblings:

His daughters were extremely handsome, especially the youngest; when she was little, every body admired her, and called her The little Beauty, so that, as she grew up, she still went by the name of Beauty, which made her sisters very jealous.  The youngest, as she was handsome, was also better than her sisters. (De Beaumont, 2008:1)

'They were six lovely children, but the youngest was the fairest of them all.  Her skin was as clear and opalescent as a rose petal.  Her eyes were as blue as the deepest sea.' (Andersen, 1994:40)

Andersen and de Beaumont continue to portray their protagonists in this vein for a time, detailing Beauty's love of reading, and devotion to her father, and the mermaid's quietness, and longing to see above the surface.  Hence, the audience is immediately made aware of the qualities and backgrounds of the heroes, which can help to offer understanding and justification of their actions.

Neither Ariel nor Belle are the first characters to be seen; as it is Prince Eric, on board his ship, and Beast, before his transformation, that begin the two narratives.  Though Ariel is not visible on screen, her presence is felt, as Eric and his crew discuss the legendary 'merpeople', and King Triton's powers over the water.  Although not mentioned specifically by name, the existence of Ariel and her family is obvious, as is their status as sea dwellers.  The effect that Ariel will have on Eric's future is also alluded to, with the idea that the state of the sea on which his ship sails is a result of Triton's moods perhaps posing as an allegory for the prince's life potentially being turned upside down by the influence of the merpeople.

In comparison, Disney's Beauty and the Beast opens with the story of the Prince's transformation into the Beast, which will be examined further, and is dictated to the audience by a narrator, with images whose mise-en-scène reflects that of a more traditional style of storytelling, as you can see here:

The fact that this sequence is narrated, and presented in a different way is interesting to note for a number of reasons.  Firstly, as Warner maintains, the teller of a fairy tale usually remains distanced from the story's content; even the narrators of oral tales were not obliged to make subjective observations on the unfolding events.  Similarly in film-making, attention is not drawn to the presence of the camera, i.e. the director's gaze, as this conveys a more realistic effect.  Here, the use of a narrator denotes a sense of nostalgia and comfort, and aims to tap into the viewer's childhood memories of listening to this story.  The mise-en-scène's echoing of the illustrations and engravings commonly found within the pages of storybooks enhances these recollections, and both elements coincide to imply Disney's authoritative role as storyteller, as well as its supposed fidelity to the written version.

To adhere to Propp's predetermined set of functions, an evaluation of the content of the above scene must be temporarily postponed in favour of its predecessor; the lack of a parent.  This is the first of the 31 functions, following the initial situation, and is a common device of the fairy tale.  In the literary editions, Beauty and the mermaid's mothers are deceased, and the girls are raised by their fathers.  Bettelheim claims that the lack of mother typically results in a stronger oedipal attachment between father and daughter (1991:112), and when the father is not as dutiful as he should be, the young woman is still able to cope, as she is safe in the knowledge that she will be rescued by a prince.  In psycho-analytical terms, these relationships comfort the reader, allaying any feelings of guilt they may have over perceiving their father as dominant and overbearing, or as an 'evil giant' (1991:114).  Bettelheim observes that the authority and control these fathers have over their daughters makes up for their consistent incompetency, and allows children to forgive them of failings in the real world because they have been led to believe that they too will find true love:

The little girl can love her real father all the better because her resentment over his failure to prefer her to her mother is explained by his ineffectuality [...], for which nobody can blame him since it is due to superior powers; besides, it will not prevent her from getting her prince. (1991:114-115)

On the other hand, Andersen's mermaid does have her paternal grandmother, who is responsible for telling her stories of the humans, and of her destiny to float as foam on the sea.  This could be for autobiographical reasons, with Andersen paying tribute to his own grandmother, and the tales that she used to tell him.  Bettelheim makes the case that this inclusion of a caring woman is ordinarily depicted in the form of a memory from the protagonist's past, which becomes ineffective over time, but provides a sense of maternal support.  The mermaid's grandmother, while not a memory, occupies this role, as it is she who offers advice and wisdom, while the father remains a powerful yet distant presence. 

Subsequently, the mermaid receives the majority of her information on the outside world from her grandmother, perhaps signifying the notion that the tradition of passing on stories is inherently a female one.  It is the grandmother that tells the reader a story too, as she explains the rules of the mermaids' first visits to the surface, and this, coupled with the strong bond with her youngest granddaughter, denotes feelings of solidarity and familial respect. 

The actions of the mermaid and Beauty are set into motion by these relationships with their caregivers; the mermaid's grandmother fills her head with enticing tales of the land above the sea, while Beauty's actions are driven by her love for her father, as debated in the last post.

There are no birth mothers in Disney's renditions, with Triton and Maurice, Belle's father, solely responsible for the upbringing of their daughters.  In her criticism of the 'Disney Princess' brand, Worthington argues that Disney's typical lack of the matriarch means that it is easier to avoid the complexities and negative associations surrounding this figure.  For now, it can be said that, from Worthington's perspective, the absence of Belle and Ariel's mothers, and the unsuccessful attempts of their fathers to guide and protect them could be deemed as demonstrating the girls' autonomy, and their self-led motivations for liberation.  They are not encouraged to seek the wider world, indeed Ariel is forbidden, and Belle's father naively believes that she has everything she needs right where she is.  Nonetheless, both characters escape the confines of their minimal lives without any help from a mother figure, yet the achievement of their aspirations is a result of Eric and Beast's respective love, so they remain answerable to others, even if it is not their parents.

Propp's next function is the 'interdiction' (1968:27), where the hero is given information consisting of a warning, an order, or simply friendly advice.  If an interdiction is offered then, according to Propp, it will be defied, resulting in the introduction of the villain, whose job it is to disrupt the protagonist's peaceful existence, and to bring about their downfall. 

Without doubt, de Beaumont's Beauty and Andersen's mermaid are the receivers of the interdiction, with the former being instructed that she must accompany her father and sisters to earn a living in the country, whereas the latter is told by her grandmother that she will be allowed to visit the surface once she has reached her 15th birthday.  While not commands, they are rules nonetheless, and compliance with their conditions benefits the heroes by keeping them safe and with their families.  Of course, Beauty obeys, and agrees to help her father in any way she can; in this case by taking on the domestic duties.  The mermaid too is acquiescent, waiting for the day that she can view the world above the sea and, even though her excitement increases with every story she hears from her sisters, she is never tempted to disobey direction.

To coincide with Propp's thesis, Beauty and the mermaid are clearly defined as the tales' heroes; they are the first characters to be fully introduced, and are the recipients of instructions intended to protect them.  Ordinarily, the breaking of such protocols would lead to the progression of the narrative, as the protagonist's disobedience results in danger for themselves and their families that would need to be overcome to regain harmony and control.  This is not the case here; rather, it is the women's obedience that furthers the development of the stories, as Beauty's meeting with Beast is the consequence of her loyalty to her father; she frees him from captivity by offering herself as a replacement.  The only reason the mermaid sees and falls in love with the prince, and then rescues him from drowning, is because his ship happens to be sailing by on the day that she is permitted to swim to the surface.  Subsequently, the remainder of Andersen's The Little Mermaid is the outcome of the girl's abiding by the laws of her people, fuelled by the tales that she is told. 

In this way, de Beaumont and Andersen's tales signify the correct mode of behaviour that was expected of women at this time; to respect the boundaries that have been set to them, even if they lead to threat or unhappiness. 

Contrastingly, Ariel does not obey the interdiction given to her by her father, who forbids her from swimming above the water, and she is not told stories of this other world, as she can see it first hand.  It is her flouting of the rules that drives the narrative forward, as her violation of the interdiction causes her to meet Eric, and to seek out Ursula, the villain, to request help in achieving her aim; the prince's love.

Ariel symbolises a modern teenager, who tests her parent's boundaries, and risks her safety, to satisfy her selfish desires.  Although Ariel relies on the assistance of those around her to achieve her goals, and ends up with no more freedom than when she began, she at least demonstrates a longing for autonomy, and bases her desires on her own experiences of the outside world, rather than on second-hand tales.  Essentially, Ariel is a spoilt, self-centred child who demands that everything should revolve around her and, while Disney does not give this character an easy time, she does not suffer the same physical traumas as Andersen's mermaid.

Disney's tale does not end with Ariel's death; as she apparently lives happily ever after with her prince, nor does her transformation into a human cause her any pain.  It seems that Disney is rewarding Ariel's attitude, providing her with exactly what she wanted, and even giving her the blessing of her father, who grants her permanent legs, and witnesses her wedding.  The corporation advocates Ariel's greed, as in the end she literally has everything; voice, legs, prince, and proud parent.  As Nadel states, this coincides with the contemporary 'voodoo economy ' (1997:90), where trade; Ariel's substitution of her voice for legs, results in gain for the consumer.  To Nadel, this is how Disney, as a site of commodification and fetishisation, depicts their notion of a happy ending; by having it all:

'This […] constitutes the only possible means by which Ariel, the princess of mermaids under the sea, can become princess of the world to which she aspires, up there on land.' (1997:90)

Millar agrees, and quotes the curator of the Hans Christian Andersen Museum as saying the following:

'Andersen was saying in this story […] that you cannot always expect to shape your own destiny, but must try to have a good life and trust in God's mercy.' (Eskildsen in Millar, 1997:8)

The observation that Andersen's mermaid has little independence or initiative in comparison to Ariel is attributable to the writer's religious beliefs, and the notion that no one has the ability to make their own decisions, as a prescribed fate is dealt no matter what.  While Disney's ideology seems more contemporary and positive, as it places responsibility with the individual, it remains concerned with the values of necessity and acquisition, with the idea that Ariel deserves this good fortune because she is such a headstrong and purposeful example of a modern woman.

To return to Beauty and the Beast, and an examination of Propp's functions, though de Beaumont plainly situates Beauty as the hero of the tale, with the narrative events revolving around the actions of her character, Disney does not follow suit.  On the contrary, the first character that the audience is introduced to is Beast, not Belle, and it is he that receives the interdiction.

The film's narrated prologue, as detailed above, tells of a handsome prince who lacks nothing in terms of material possessions, but whose personality is considerably flawed.  He is approached one day by an old woman, begging for refuge in exchange for a rose; an offer that he immediately refuses, because of his disgust of her haggard appearance.  The beggar responds by issuing the man with a warning, or interdiction, to not be deceived by appearances as 'beauty comes from within' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), but he still rejects her, causing her to revert to her true form of a beautiful sorceress.   In accordance with Propp's order of functions, this woman is the film's villain, emerging as a result of the hero's denial of the terms of the interdiction, and bringing him harm by transforming him into a beast.

The viewer is told that the curse can only be lifted once the prince has found love, and has these feelings reciprocated, and the sequence ends with the narrator telling of the Beast's anguish, finally posing the question of who could learn to love this creature. 

Disney's tale is centred on the character of Beast, with his desire for freedom and love being the narrative's driving force.  Belle, on the other hand, is positioned as the answer to his dilemma; indeed, following the narrator's above query, the very next frame is of her, as if the camera is figuratively pointing to her as the key to Beast's salvation.  To this end, and to use Propp's vocabulary, Belle is the donor of the tale who, like Beauty, first meets Beast when bargaining for her father's release.  Unlike Beauty, whose acceptance of Beast and change in attitude towards him is the focus of de Beaumont's story, Belle stands as merely the means to an end. 

It is Beast, and his behaviour that is at the heart of the Disney version, whereas Belle provides the foundations for his reactions; her eventual tolerance and care incites his love for her, which is returned, leading to his transformation back into the prince.  In the book, Beast's curse is not mentioned until the finale, as his physical transformation is not as important as Beauty's love for him, for she represents the concept of the tolerant woman, who must learn to overlook the faults of her husband-to-be.

In summary, Disney's Beauty and the Beast situates the male hero as an innocent victim of his surroundings; his failed upbringing leads to his negative encounter with the female villain, who casts a spell that can only be broken by the love of a patient woman.  Like the mermaid, Belle, Beauty and Ariel, Beast requires the assistance of others in order to change, but as Part IV will demonstrate, this does not mean that the power automatically resides with Belle.  On the contrary, it is Belle's submissiveness and obedience as the donor that leads to Beast's ascension to power, not her own. 

Bibliography:

Andersen, H. C. (1994) 'The Little Mermaid' in: Fairy Tales: Hans Andersen, Penguin Popular Classics: Berkshire, p.39-65.

Bettelheim, B. (1991) The Uses of Enchantment, Penguin: London.

Byrne, E. & McQuillan, M. (1999) Deconstructing Disney, Pluto Press: London

Hutcheon, L. (2006) A Theory of Adaptation, Routledge: New York.

Le Prince de Beaumont, J. M. (2008) Beauty and the Beast, Forgotten Books.

Millar, P. (1997) 'Plunder - Disney Tears up Our Heritage' in: The European Issue, August 28-September 3, p.8-12.

Nadel, A. (1997) 'The Pretty Woman, The Little Mermaid, and the Working Girl Become "Part of That World", in: Flatlining on the Field of Dreams: Cultural Narratives in the Films of President Reagan's America, Rutgers University Press: New Brunswick, New Jersey and London, p.86-113.

Propp, V.  Morphology of the Folktale (1968) Indiana University Press: USA.

Warner, M. (1994) From The Beast To The Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers, Random House: London.

Worthington, M. (2009) 'The Motherless "Disney Princess": Marketing Mothers out of the Picture' in: Hall, A. C. & Bishop, M. J. (eds.) Mommy Angst: Motherhood in American Popular Culture, ABC-Clio, LLC: California, p.29-46.

Zipes, J. D. (1999) When Dreams Came True: Classical Fairy Tales and Their Tradition, Routledge: London.

Zipes, J. (2011) The Enchanted Screen: The Unknown History of Fairy-Tale Films, Routledge: New York.