Ditz

Issue date: 3/18/08 Section: Viewpoints

Media Credit: Ciarra Schmidt

It was kind of a "Luke, I am your father" moment when I really picked up on it. I am sure I should feel insecure about this, but it occurred to me when I went to see Disney's Enchanted this past winter break. I was a bit bored by the movie, but as typically happens when my idiot, be-amused-by-simple-entertainment, side of the brain starts dozing, my English major brain started churning at it. I sat up a bit in my chair and realized that Disney was apologizing for its history of blind and even somewhat misogynistic storytelling. Had they not pointed it out themselves, I wouldn't have realized the mistakes made in my Disney upbringing-and let's face it, if you grew up in America in the 80s and 90s, you were raised by Disney, too.

I'd probably be the first to file a claim against Disney as being the main contributor in my formative years to make me the hapless and hopeless romantic that I am. The amazing films that displayed Aladdin and his genie overcoming Jafar to save and marry Jasmine, the Beast finally understanding what love is and getting that kiss from Belle just in time (the last petal had already fallen!) and even Simba finally taking down the extremely androgynous (but no less awesome) Scar; all of these have had their indelible effect on me and countless others. They spoke to us and shaped us, and it's only in seeing Enchanted that I see Disney shrugging and admitting: "maybe we messed up."

The film starts off with your typical animated Disney heroine being saved by your charming prince and the two, at first sight, falling in love and going off to be married. Before this can actually happen, the princess is flung into "the real world" of modern-day New York and her prince follows soon after in an attempt, of course, to rescue her. The princess runs into a man of the millennium who is completely perplexed at her romantic conviction that love conquers all, and that two people could fall in love at first sight, and his having to take care of her until her prince arrives is made all the more amusing by his cynicism. To throw in an un-Disney twist, the princess winds up in love with her ward rather than the prince, a fact that comes to light just in time for them.

The first thing I was struck by was Disney going against its traditional motif of the hero and heroine meeting, falling in love, and living happily ever after. It was the first time they'd done this so it was the first time I ever noticed how simple it is for Disney characters to fall hopelessly in love: a glance, a quick joke, and they're set for life. Maybe it's this thinking that has led to so many hasty marriages that result in divorce in our generation. Either way, the hero she does fall in love with falls in love with her after getting to know her and learning about who she is, something the prince (who we later learn is not her true love) doesn't manage to do.

While Disney does allow your typical "love at first sight" romance to occur, they make it clear it's not for real and reasonable people by having the lucky couple shuttle back to the animated world because they can't exist in the real world like that. Meanwhile the princess and our former cynic remain in New York having a realistic and happy marriage. But the biggest point of concern for me was how much importance was placed in the hands of the heroine this time. It's only now I look back and realize that every iteration of a Disney hero had placed the heroine as largely helpless and that it was the actions of the hero that determined the outcome. The heroine just needed to be the passive receptor and appreciator of those reactions. Think Jasmine in the final battle against Jafar: she manages to distract him for just a bit by using her feminine wiles (a.k.a. sexuality) and is subsequently locked in an hourglass until Aladdin can save her and the world from Jafar. All well and good until you compare it to Enchanted, where the one who needs saving is actually the male; they're recognizing that relationships are based on a give and take that suits itself to circumstance regardless of gender lines. Essentially, Disney finally corrected the idea that the male doesn't always have to be the "man," or hero.

What's the result of this lesson? I spent the rest of the evening after the movie asking why I'd let myself be fooled into subconsciously thinking I needed to be some kind of white knight in every relationship and that every girl is the Jasmine to my Aladdin. I also found a more realistic take on true love: sure, it exists, but it exists after time and effort spent understanding your partner and working with them to make them happy. That said, I think I should warn you if my revelations and light epiphanies have had an effect on you and made you interested in seeing this movie. In the end, it wasn't all that good. Like I said at the outset, I only came across these thoughts because of how bored I was by the movie. Even my little cousin who harassed me to take her in the first place had a lackluster time. But oh well--at least Disney's apology and attempt at reparation didn't go unnoticed.

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