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 II.

Today's post will investigate the general role of the fairy tale, from evaluating its structure and purpose, to examining who the tellers and listeners are.  It will go on to take a closer look at the tales of Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid, and will discuss the themes and values of their past versions; exploring a post-feminist perspective in order to ascertain the differing portrayal of women.  This will provide a basis for a comparison between Disney's adaptations, and their literary predecessors.

I couldn't begin to state exactly when and where the fairy tale originated; I'm not sure anyone could for definite.  What is possible is to trace its influence, and its common conventions, as it passes from one generation to the next.

Before the arrival of the printing press in 1440, stories could only be shared by word-of-mouth, and it was up to the teller to ensure that these tales, and the messages that they contained, survived.  The purpose of the oral tale is similarly difficult to pinpoint, as there are many reasons for telling a story; to caution, instruct, advise, worship, and so on and, as the tales were spoken, they were liable to change depending on the narrator, and their motives. 

Kready discusses the function of early storytelling, noting that fairy tales were the leftover scraps of ancient myths, and were adapted to include people and places that the audience would be familiar with; the protagonists being replaced by local heroes.  In this way, it is likely that such stories could have been used as morale boosters, providing the poorer members of the community with the necessary motivations to carry on despite adversity, like their heroes.  Indeed, Kready maintains that the content of the myths were altered slightly, with the 'monstrous element modified' (2008:108), while the fantasy, and extraordinary feats of the heroes, were left in. 

Though these adaptations may have made the tales more appealing to the listener, as the relative ease with which the protagonist succeeds would convey hopes and aspirations within themselves, they are simultaneously suggestive of the origins of the 'happy ending' formula regularly found in fairy tales.

Stories evolved to fit their environment, and the differing values and attitudes of those who adopted them.  All the while, the identity of the teller was clear, as these tales had to be passed on directly; they could not be written down.  This changed with the 15th century innovation of the printing press, leading to an increase in literacy throughout the population; with this the oral tale began to go through significant alterations.

In the beginning, the subject matter of the fairy tale was condemned, as a result of its allegorical nature that could be interpreted in a number of ways, depending on the reader.  While fairy tales have always existed for the purpose of commenting on the behaviour of society, and alluding to the correct attitude to take, as well as the aforesaid objectives of trade, reverence, and support, once they were converted to literature, these ideas were regarded as too prescriptive.  It was believed that the morals of the tales would be taken literally, and that their hidden meanings were dangerous, almost sinister.  Hence, it was thought best that children not be permitted to read or hear fairy tales, in case the underlying principles affected their innocence. 

It was not until the 1820s, according to Zipes (1999:18), that children were allowed access to fairy tales, yet these were watered down versions, with the bulk of the intended significance removed.  Even so, fairy tales were still regarded as unsuitable for young readers, partly for the reason that, because of their derivation from the oral tradition, they were considered beneath the needs of the literate, and because the fantastical elements could lead to inappropriate behaviour, such as masturbation (1999:18).  If children were given permission to read fairy tales, these would probably be modified adaptations that contained safe, non-subversive connotations that could not be misinterpreted or, to use Zipes' words, the aim of these stories was 'the domestication of the imagination' (1995:25).

In opposition to the above mode of thinking, that fairy tales are harmful to children, Bettelheim's seminal work of the 1970s maintained that, in reality, such stories prove beneficial to the development of their young readers' psyches.  Akin to the Freudian style of psychoanalysis, where individuals are encouraged to make sense of their lives by overcoming seemingly impossible and daunting experiences, Bettelheim's theory instructs that the fairy tale teaches children that life is complex and, rather than trying to escape the inevitable, they must face each challenge head-on to achieve success:

Freud's prescription is that only by struggling courageously against what seem like overwhelming odds can man succeed in wringing meaning out of his existence.  This is exactly the message that fairy tales get across to the child in manifold form: that a struggle against severe difficulties in life is unavoidable, is an intrinsic part of human existence – and that if one does not shy away, but steadfastly meets unexpected and often unjust hardships, one masters all obstacles and at the end emerges victorious. (1991:8)

Fairy tales allow young readers to work through problems, and expand the capacity of, their conscious minds or, in Freudian terms, their egos, which alleviates stresses that may exist within the pre-conscious super-ego, or the unconscious id.  The general progression of a fairy tale's narrative; the hero's victory after overcoming adversities, gives physical form to the intangible id, and provides the child with coping strategies that correspond to those related to the needs of the ego and super-ego. 

Bettelheim believes that, rather than the whimsical, unreal qualities of a fairy tale causing harm to young readers, the fantasy operates as a safe location for understanding reality.  Without undergoing this practice, a child's ego may become so inhibited that underlying unconscious issues may never be dealt with, and could lead to permanently damaging their personality. 

Thus, the imaginative process is encouraged, as is the often concealed idea of the existence of evil, which is commonly addressed by fairy tales in their depiction of good and bad characters.  Malevolent individuals motivated by compulsions of greed, jealousy and lack, demonstrate to a child the real-life existence of like-minded, unsavoury people.  The strong delineation of moral and immoral behaviours, with little between the two, coincides with the polarised workings of a child's mind, as children are more inclined to recognise distinctive behavioural qualities, and favour or discriminate one over another, if they are clearly defined.  This juxtaposition of good and evil creates an ethical dilemma within the reader's conscious mind; they are provoked into doubting and then rejecting the incentives of the villain, while sympathising with the hardships of the hero, learning the basic principles of human virtue, or as Bettelheim puts it:

'The child makes such identifications all on his own, and the inner and outer struggles of the hero imprint morality on him.' (1991:9)

This conflict of right versus wrong is presented to the child from within the safe confines of a magical realm, and kept separate from reality by the simple act of closing a book after the story has been read.  Even if a tale is recited verbally, in the fashion of the oral tradition, without the symbolic closure of a book, the customary happy ending that has previously been discussed as engendering wish-fulfilment and hope, signifies further security, as the life of the hero is assumed to stretch before them indefinitely, which Bettelheim believes helps to decrease anxieties surrounding death. 

Another key aspect of Bettelheim's critique is his thoughts on the typical fairy tale device of the hero's quest for true love that, he claims, connotes the longing for unity and attachment that is shared by all.  The fact that the hero almost always succeeds in acquiring the object of his search helps to assure the reader that they too will find their heart's desire, which further allays fears of mortality, and of dying alone, as well as the dread of separation, in this case from the mother. 

To this end, the fairy tale works as a form of preparation for the realities of life, particularly for children, whose minds are especially susceptible to the content and framework of this genre.  The tendency of fairy tales to allude to certain morals and themes via ciphers and coded meanings instantly targets children, and corresponds to the way they rationalise problems.  It is this, and the knowledge that a story will end happily, that makes children trust and believe in fairy tales as sites of self-understanding, reassurance and, in the end, pleasure.  Alternative forms of teaching, that offer a more realistic perspective, do not benefit children to the same degree because, as Bettelheim notes, young minds are not capable of grasping non-figurative ideas; those that can not be broken down into a series of cohesive images:

'[…] realistic explanations are usually incomprehensible to children, because they lack the abstract understand required to make sense of them.' (1991:47-48)

Undoubtedly, the underlying principles behind the fairy tale's resonance with children are the same as those that make Disney films popular with this audience.  The colourful and cartoonish mise-en-scène of a Disney feature removes it from reality enough to make its motifs conceivable and within reach of a child's literal imagination, yet retains sufficient verisimilitude for its teachings to be applied to the real world.  As a result of their prior knowledge of the Disney canon, spectators are confident that the film they are watching will end happily; the hero will win out, and the evil will be banished.  Whatever its subject, a Disney film becomes like a fairy tale in itself, and its intentions to convey a particular polemic echoes the main objectives of fairy stories. 

When Disney becomes the teller of a fairy tale, as in the case of its adaptations of The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, and combines its mode of address with that of its literary counterpart, it effectively becomes twice as powerful.  Young viewers accept what they see as truth because this is what they have always known; that Disney equals innocence and integrity, while the fairy tale denotes an understanding of reality, and the combined influence of the two institutions would be difficult for children to challenge.

Before Disney could take on the role of teller, the tales first had to be written, and then absorbed into public knowledge, which, in the case of Beauty and the Beast, was a long and complex process.  A number of critics and scholars are of the view that the story of Beauty and the Beast can be traced as far back as 150 A. D., (Warner, 1994 & Griswold, 2004) with the Roman fable of Metamorphoses, which featured the characters of Cupid, the first 'Beast', and Psyche as Beauty.  However, Griswold suggests that this was probably based on Greek oral folk tales, where Cupid's predecessor would have been Eros, and whose own ancestor would likely have been the transformed gods of Egyptian myth.  As it is impossible to determine the exact moment that Beauty and the Beast was created, this dissertation will use the fairly well-known and influential legend of Cupid and Psyche as a starting point for an analysis of the tale's progression.

In the Roman edition, Cupid is instructed by his jealous mother, Venus, to make the beautiful Psyche fall in love with a hideous creature but, upon seeing her, Cupid pricks himself with the enchanted arrow, and falls deeply in love.  Although attractive, and the daughter of a wealthy king, Psyche was never proposed to, and her parents were told to abandon her.  Eventually she finds her way to a magical castle, inhabited by invisible occupants, and is visited at night by the owner, who forbids her from seeing his true self.  Later, Psyche is persuaded by her visiting sisters that the reason for her husband's secrecy is that he is a monster, and that her only option is to kill him.  Psyche inadvertently wakes her husband, Cupid, and on seeing her disloyalty, and a knife in her hand, Cupid leaves.  Desperate to find him, Psyche asks Venus for help, and is set a number of tasks, of which she is successful.  Finally, Cupid discovers what is happening, and rescues Psyche from his mother's torment, before marrying her and turning her into an immortal goddess.

Warner writes that this early rendition inverts the characters of Beauty and Beast as, while Cupid's hidden identity sets him up as dangerous, he is in fact beautiful and kind.  On the other hand, Psyche is established as perfection in terms of her looks, but her personality is flawed, as she is easily led by her sisters to disregard Cupid's one rule, in order to satisfy her curiosity.  When it is put to her that her husband could be a monster, Psyche is prepared to protect herself, and her later search, and the completion of tasks, demonstrates the development of her character from selfish to selfless.  Accordingly, this story is one of change, particularly in the case of Psyche, a privileged woman who is asked to sacrifice her shallow beliefs as a means of benefiting herself; as it can not be forgotten that she becomes a goddess at the end of this tale, and the feelings of those around her.

Psyche, or Beauty, is the protagonist of this story, as the narrative concentrates on the modification of her personality, and her journey to find herself and her lover.  In contrast, Cupid as Beast is depicted as menacing and omnipotent, with the secrecy of his identity posing as a danger to Psyche's innocence and naïveté, which Warner suggests is the common take on this story when the narrator is female:

The Beauty and the Beast story is a classic fairy tale of transformation, which, when told by a woman, places the male lover, the Beast, in the position of the mysterious, threatening, possibly fatal unknown, and Beauty, the heroine, as the questor who discovers his true nature. (1994:275)

It is presumed by Warner that, as writers became aware of Beauty and the Beast, and the number of adaptations increased, its target audience became predominantly women.  Owing to the themes of female virtue and purity, and the fear of powerful, intimidating and, perhaps, aggressive men, the tale tended to connect with the fears of women, and it was largely this that resulted in the majority of the story's adapters being female.  Even though a version of the tale was published by Perrault in 1697, as part of his Mother Goose collection, it was not until the end of the 18th century, with the French writers Madames de Villeneuve and Le Prince de Beaumont, that Beauty and the Beast became the recognisable story that it is today. 

Villeneuve's version principally comments on society's attitudes towards marriage, and the patriarchal oppression of women.  As Warner proposes, it was customary for girls from this period to be forced into loveless marriage by their fathers, often to husbands that posed a physical or mental risk.  So Villeneuve's tale, which contains similar connotations to its Roman predecessor, addresses cultural issues that correspond to the current anxieties of its female consumers.

Madame de Beaumont's shorter tale, published 16 years after Villeneuve's, retains a similar narrative to the previous version, and instructs the reader to respect their family, and abide by the laws set to them by men.  In this story, Beauty is one of six children, though her brothers barely feature, and her relationship with her sisters is tenuous.  Being incredibly vain, Beauty's sisters are jealous of her looks, her kind persona and the male attention that she receives, yet she never retaliates towards their attitude, and appears to modify her behaviour to satisfy them.  When the girls' father leaves to try and reclaim his lost fortune, he tells his daughters that he will bring them each back a gift of their choice.  Naturally, the sisters choose expensive items, such as clothing and jewellery, but selflessly, Beauty desires nothing, as she knows that the money her father is due will barely cover the cost of her siblings' wishes.  Rather than admitting these concerns and making her sisters look selfish, Beauty merely asks for a rose:

"Since you are so kind as to think of me, (answered she,) be so kind as to bring me a rose, for as none grow hereabouts, they are a kind of rarity." Not that Beauty cared for a rose, but she asked for something, lest she should seem by her example to condemn her sisters' conduct, who would have said she did it only to look particular. (2008:3)

Here, de Beaumont insinuates that Beauty, as the youngest child, must sacrifice her beliefs and morals in order to appease the feelings and well-being of her family.  The story is focused on Beauty's appearance, which is referred to numerous times, and her placid, 'affable, obliging' (2008:2) and patient nature, and it seems that she is the personification of the ideal woman.  Moreover, Beauty epitomises the perfect daughter, remaining loyal to her father, and meekly following him to their new home in the countryside, where she takes on the role of the domesticated woman; cooking and cleaning for her family which, according to de Beaumont, even results in added health benefits for her:

'In the beginning she found it very difficult, for she had not been used to work as a servant; but in less than two months she grew stronger and healthier than ever.' (2008:2)

Ultimately, Beauty is figured as undergoing training to be the perfect housewife, with her subservience and desire to place the needs of others before her own proving useful later on in the narrative, when she meets Beast. 

Beauty's first meeting with Beast is a result of her father's punishment for taking a rose from the creature's garden; so what was an innocent request becomes the catalyst for the potential downfall of her and her family.  In payment for his crime, Beast demands that Beauty's father brings him one of his daughters, and sends the man home.  Upon hearing what has happened, and learning that it was her desire that caused this, Beauty accompanies her father to the Beast's castle, where she becomes his prisoner.  Initially, Beauty's life with Beast is full of fear, as she believes she will be eaten but, as time goes on, Beauty learns to tolerate this creature, who shows her nothing but kindness, and comes to realise that he is actually a gentleman. 

After three months of living with Beast, and refusing numerous marriage proposals, Beauty is allowed to go and tend to her ill father, as long as she promises to return to Beast in one week.  All the while she is with her father, Beauty worries about Beast being alone, and dreams that he is dying.  It is here that she decides that she does want to marry him, and reproaches herself for judging his looks over his compassion.  On arriving back at the castle, Beauty finds that Beast really is dying; his misery at losing her caused him to starve himself, and she agrees to marriage.  Beauty's acceptance results in the Beast's transformation into a handsome prince, and the pair wed; becoming king and queen. 

It is posited in this story's climax that Beauty's eventual marriage benefits her greatly, as she receives aristocratic status, and with it the expected advantages of wealth and status.  In reality, this partnership is a consequence of Beauty's submission and compliance to the oppressive rules of patriarchy.  Throughout the tale, Beauty has repressed her inner desires and wants to abide by the rules of the male-dominated society and, on the few occasions that she has asked for something she, or someone that she loves, is punished; even though any minute demands that she does make are always to help others. 

As a well-educated and happily married teacher, de Beaumont's tale educates her female students in the art of becoming textbook wives, which not only involves answering to men, but tolerating them and their potential faults, as this acceptance may lead to the unveiling of a good man.  As Warner observes:

[Madame de Beaumont is a] teacher raising her pupils to face their future obediently and decorously, to hear her pious wish that [they] should obey their fathers and that inside the brute of a husband who might be their appointed lot, the heart of a good man might beat, given a bit of encouragement [...]. (1994:293)

Warner maintains that de Beaumont's Beauty and the Beast sets the scene for the typical women of the Victorian era, whose purpose was to keep house, raise and tutor their daughters to be good and patient wives, and put the needs of their husbands first; at whatever cost.  Viewed from this angle, Beauty and the Beast's pre-cinematic versions strongly oppose the later, post-feminist stance on the portrayal of women, who are encouraged to adopt a more self-serving attitude, and liberate themselves from the constraints of male dominance in the home, workplace and wider society.  In accordance, female consumers of a contemporary adaptation of Beauty and the Beast may expect Beauty to be independent and self-motivated; a woman that would ensure that she alone was responsible for the meeting of her desires, and would choose to be with Beast because she loves him, and that this is the right decision for her.  

In 1837, the young Danish writer Hans Christian Andersen wrote The Little Mermaid which, though adapted numerous times for stage and screen, remains the only literary version of the tale.  Furthermore it is believed that, in contrast to Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid is not a direct descendant of oral tales but, like the majority of Andersen's stories, was based on his personal experiences, and influenced by literary works.  In this case, Altmann and De Vos cite Foqué's Undine (1811); a romantic tale from Germany about a young sea-dwelling sprite who acquires a soul by marrying Huldebrand, the knight, is cited as The Little Mermaid's forefather.  Undine derives from the writings of the Swiss astrologer and alchemist Paracelsus, who told stories of the spirits of nature, one of them being Undine, who sacrifice their immortality in exchange for an eternal soul, as a result of their marriages to humans.

In Undine, the water spirit, or mermaid, does win the heart of Huldebrand, but he can not help feeling threatened, because she retains the magical abilities that she was born with.  Huldebrand is persuaded by his ex-lover to leave Undine and marry her instead, breaking Undine's heart, and her plea for him to remain forever loyal to her.  Unable to live without Huldebrand's love, Undine resorts to killing him, releasing her from his hold, and allowing her to return to the water without the burden of the soul that she had once deeply desired.

According to Altmann and De Vos, Undine's conclusion did not sit well with Andersen, who disliked the mermaid's reliance on the love and acceptance of others in order to gain her soul.  Instead, he judged that the future of the mermaid should rely on fate and chance, possibly stemming from his religious upbringing, and the hardships that he faced growing up:

I have not [...] allow[ed] the mermaid's acquiring of an immortal soul to depend on an alien creature, upon the love of a human being.  I'm sure that's wrong!  It would depend rather a lot on chance, wouldn't it?  I won't accept that sort of thing in this world.  I have permitted my mermaid to follow a more natural, a more divine path. (Andersen, 1837, in Altmann & Vos, 2001:178)

It is known that Andersen experienced a difficult childhood; his parents were very poor, and it is intimated by some critics that he struggled his entire life with the repression of homosexual feelings (Sells, 1995; Zipes, 1999).  He sought escapism by accompanying his grandmother to an old people's home, where he would listen to the telling of stories.  This proved to be Andersen's inspiration for becoming a writer and, after leaving home at 14 to earn money as a performer, he was sent to school at the age of 17 by a supporter.  Due to his family's poverty, and the fact that he was the oldest in his class, Andersen found fitting in at school similarly trying, but succeeded in his exams, and became a published author in 1829.

Set against this brief biography of Andersen, The Little Mermaid can be seen to carry undertones that concur with the reflections and incidents of his life.  To begin with, Andersen's mermaid dreams of seeing the world above the sea, but is forbidden by her father to do so until her 15th birthday.  In the meantime, she satisfies her curiosities by hearing her grandmother's stories of the humans, and passes the time by tending to a garden in which stands a marble figure of a man.  Already, similarities can be drawn between the character of the mermaid and Andersen, as both depend on the fascinating tales of their elders as forms of escapism.  In addition, the fact that the statue at the centre of the mermaid's garden is clearly marked as a 'handsome' and 'beautiful' (1994:40) man, symbolises Andersen's hidden love for the male form.

The mermaid's longing for access to the land, and of its associated wonder, excitement and freedoms, can be read as the writer's longing for upward mobility.  The mermaid's kingdom appears simple and rustic, perhaps referring to Andersen's poverty-stricken upbringing, while outside is described vividly as being full of colour, lights and people.  Hence, the contrast between Andersen's home life, and the existence that he wishes for; one of popularity, fortune and recognition, is demonstrated in the juxtaposition between the mer-world, and that of the humans. 

When the little mermaid first experiences life above the surface, she instantly falls in love with the landscape that she views, and a prince that she rescues from a shipwreck.  After this, she vows to spend the rest of her life with the prince, insisting that she would rather be mortal, and give up her preordained future of living for 300 years before becoming sea foam.  To this end, the mermaid makes a deal with the sea witch, and trades her voice for life as a human, with the proviso that, if she does not win the prince's love, she will be turned into foam on the waves. 

The loss of the mermaid's voice, and the physical pain that she endures when changing into human form, which feels 'as if a two-edged sword were going through her delicate body' (1994:54), denotes the mental torment that Andersen no doubt experienced as a result of his suppressed feelings.  The mermaid's lack of speech is particularly poignant, as it could suggest Andersen's inability to speak openly about his innate desires, and it may be this factor that led to his career as a writer, for he could at least feel the cathartic unburdening of these emotions through the experiences of his characters.  Whereas, the pain of the mermaid's transformation implies the difficulties that Andersen faced when moving from one realm to another; from the privacy and security of his home to the insecurity and scrutiny of the public domain, and the sacrifices that he indisputably would have made. 

The story of The Little Mermaid is one of oppression and repression, and of the failure to conform to society's norms.  The mermaid is oppressed by the rules of her father, and seeks liberation in the land above the sea, which appears to offer freedom and wish-fulfilment.  Yet, because of her inability to communicate in this patriarchal kingdom, and a lack of understanding of the 'real' world, the mermaid fails to make the prince fall in love with her, and her sacrifices effectively lead to nothing.

Andersen too was oppressed, by the conventions of the culture in which he existed, and the move into popularity and notoriety did nothing to alleviate the repression of his inner beliefs, in fact, it would have made it more difficult for him to be himself; causing him to give up his true self for his love of writing.

Like Beauty, the little mermaid is unable to fulfil her wishes without the assistance of others and, although she does escape the dominance of her father, she has to lose the markers of her identity; her voice and tail, to do so.  When she does achieve her goal of living among the humans, she is treated as an outcast, an Other that literally can not speak the language and, in a similar vein to Beauty, ends up becoming a victim of her needs.  Therefore, while the mermaid may initially be regarded as taking a proactive stance in changing her life, this process is turned into a punishable act, and her selfish pursuit of freedom from the security and sanctity of the sea is met with pain and, finally, death.

Whether these depictions of Beauty and the mermaid change with Disney's contemporary re-workings of the tales will be examined in the next post where, among other critiques, Propp's theory on the functions of the fairy tale will be used to ascertain exactly what changes have been made in the transition from literary to cinematic narrative, and for what purpose.

Bibliography:

Altmann, A. E. & De Vos, G, (2001) Tales, Then and Now: More Folktales as Literary Fictions for Young Adults, Greenwood Publishing Group Inc: Englewood.

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.

Griswold, J. (2004) The Meanings of "Beauty and the Beast": A Handbook, Broadview Press Ltd: North America.

Heiner, H. A. (2003) 'Undine' in: SurLaLune Fairy Tales [online].  Available from: http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/littlemermaid/stories/undine.html (Accessed 21 June, 2011)

Kready, L. F. (2008) 'The History of Fairy Tales', in: A Study of Fairy Tales, Forgotten Books, p.106-141

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

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.

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