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.
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 Worthington
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
'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.
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