Originally posted on mythicramblings.com on Mar 29, 2015.

Alright, I know I mentioned Popol Vuh in the last post and I hinted at blood and gore and other pleasant things. Unfortunately, life doesn’t go as planned and so I will not be writing about K’iche’ Mayan myths. You will have to learn to deal with disappointing news when you’re older and this is but a small exercise. You’ll thank me someday. Probably Friday. Maybe Saturday. But definitely by Sunday.

Instead, I’ll be talking about Cinderella –  its wonders, its pitfalls, and Cate Blanchett’s amazing wardrobe. Really, you’re getting a great deal. Spoilers after the jump.

UPDATED: I had the wrong day for my PCA presentation. If you’re there, I’ll be going Thursday morning at 8 am!

There are a few things that I was reminded of from watching Kenneth Branagh’s Cinderella.

1. It is ridiculously easy to sneak beer and food into my local theater.
2. The middle of the day is the best time to see a movie – but not on a Friday, when some kids don’t go to school, I guess?
3. Do not drink your beer at the beginning of the movie because when you inevitably have to go to the bathroom, you won’t be able to since you won’t have a buddy to fill you in on what you missed.
4. Cate Blanchett is a wonderful actress.
5. I’ve never been to a ball and that’s a shame.

None of these, unfortunately, pertain to the actual film, save #4. How on earth could that be?

Simple. This movie did nothing new.

Well, that’s unfair. A revision: Cinderella made the smallest bit of effort a movie has ever done to “re-imagine” a classic story.

Let’s start with the good aspects. This is, first and foremost, a beautiful film. Immersive, luxurious, grand, opulent, saturated – all of these words describe the sets and the costumes. Every scene felt like it was filmed in a real world. Every article of clothing had substance and weight. Even the scenes that featured magical transformations or panoramic shots of the fictional kingdom held back on the CGI just enough so that it kept within the overall realistic aesthetic tone and feel of the film.

The highlight, of course, was anything Cate Blanchett wore. Channeling Barbara Stanwyck’s lithe, seductive walk and charm, Blanchett’s performance and costumes were amazing. While her entire character was out of the 1940’s (and her daughters, Drizella and Anastasia, were of the bobby sox 1950’s persuasion), it is a testament to the costume crew that the costumes did not clash with the older, 19th century feel of the rest of the characters.

There are few shots that I especially loved. Most notably, I love the still shot of young Ella’s slightly scuffed blue shoes as they are hanging off her heels while she’s sitting. Something about that quintessential position kids find themselves and their shoes in was beautiful to me. I also appreciated the first half of the scene where Lady Tremaine walks into the foyer of Ella’s home for the first time. We see her in profile, with her big, dark hat and beautiful green and black dress. It is a shot that just screams of the power, resolve, and menace the character will later demonstrate. My third favourite shot is of Prince Kit curled in the fetus position with his head resting on his dying father’s lap. It’s a strongly tender visual, a grown man sobbing over his father. I felt that it solidified Prince Kit as a full character and was extremely effective.

Besides the visual pleasures of this film, the performances as well were a treat. I’m always going to love a movie if all the actors give it their all and commit to whatever crazy world they inhabit. And Cinderella did not fail to deliver. As I’ve already mentioned, Cate Blanchett knocked it out of the park. While there are some issues with her character that were due to poor writing, she has long been one of my favourite actresses and it was just so obvious why in this film. She brought a good amount of pathos to the character of the evil Lady Tremaine (as much as she could), which is totally in line with the new trend of offering origin stories which redeem traditional villains. We’ve seen this in a variety of films, such as Maleficent, Oz the Great and Powerful, and what I assume will happen with Captain Hook in the upcoming Pan.

Another highlight for me was Richard Madden, who plays Prince Kit. It must have been tough, for him, to play a character who traditionally does not even have a name (which leads to a fun conflation in Vertigo’s Fables) or a personality. At least Blanchett had a template of which to jump off. Madden, on the other hand, had the daunting task of bringing depth to blank slate. And he really succeeds. He created a fully-rounded personality for Prince Kit. Lily James does the same for the titular protagonist, Cinderella. Unfortunately, I can’t speak as high of praises, since I plain didn’t like the character.

Everyone else was good.

My last praise for the film comes by way of the weather. I was intrigued by the way the film used seasons. See, in many fairy tales and stories the changing season are used, maybe cheaply, to indicate the mood or transitions. Actually, one of my classmates in graduate school was very interested in the role of weather in mythology and always had interesting things to say about what it meant. I noticed that Cinderella only had springtime scenes. It only rained once, at night, during a happy moment. And the weather changed into winter only at the end of the film, during the joyous wedding scene. I don’t know what it might mean, mind you. But I thought it was neat.

Ooh, is it now time for me to rip into this movie? I think it is!

From the small details in Cinderella’s every day dress to the chandeliers in the palace, this film felt real. This, unfortunately, is where any semblance to reality ends. In fact, one of the opening lines of the film is Helena Bonham Carter’s Fairy Godmother character narrating that what made Ella (later Cinderella, because she slept by embers and got cinder marks on her face; they took the word “cinder” and added it to her name; cinder + Ella = Cinderella — do you get it?! It’s clever, dammit!) special was that, “she didn’t see how the world is, but rather how it could be.”

Alright, so that could be a really awesome introduction to an inspiring person who seeks to change the world. Instead, it’s a hint for how delusional this chick really is. Part of the reason Ella is so delusional is due to her mother. First, her mom indulges all fanciful thought in one of the sappiest montages of a childhood I’ve ever seen (is this where I mention that while I had a happy childhood, my mom never failed to point out the many ways I could die in any given situation and to not trust anyone ever because they’re all strangers, even people you know?). Then her mother gives her maybe the worst advice you can to this already-unstable kid, “Have courage, and be kind.” In the mind of any other child, it would be safe words. But Ella has been raised in this secluded meadow. She has not had many opportunities to have courage, or even to be anything other than kind. In other words, she’s untested in dealing with people outside of her family.

The ramifications of this lack of exposure become evident after her father remarries. The new wife, Lady Tremaine, and her daughters, Drizella and Anastasia, are not ideal. They’re vapid and frivolous. The girls care only for material goods and marriage prospects. Much of Lady Tremaine’s drive as a character is to see her daughters married advantageously. And when Ella’s father dies, Lady Tremaine’s reaction is atrocious! The only breadwinner in the family has died and the first thing she says (after hearing that the last things her husband talked about were his first wife and his child) is, “What will become of us? How will we live?” What a b*tch.

Except, wait a minute, based on the clothes and the fact that there is still a monarchy and it’s cool to have mice running around your house and your kitchen has a hearth, I’m gonna guess this is set in a period where marriage is basically the only thing a woman has to look forward to. I mean, there’s a ball just for the prince to find a wife (who really should be a princess) and we see multiple “humourous” scenes where women are throwing themselves or rather, their feet, at a glass slipper. Why? It’s not because Prince Kit is sooooooo attractive. It’s because he’s their best bet for a comfortable life. It’s the same sort of competition we see currently for school lotteries or scholarships or job appointments.

Further proof of a woman’s expectations in this world is given by our wonderfully relevant narrator, the Fairy Godmother (just kidding, she’s barely a character). When describing Ella’s new life with her step-sisters and step-mother, the F.G. says the step-sisters lacked “domestic and artistic accomplishments”. We hear Drizella caterwauling a horrid song and Anastasia drawing a hideous portrait. Ella, meanwhile, is smirking at them and cleaning up the plates. In this quick scene of one minute, the step-sisters are demonized for not being able to sing or draw and Ella is praised for cleaning up. So yes, I’d say that Lady Tremaine is justified in worrying about suitably marrying off her daughters because that is exactly the sort of world in which they live.

But Ella, as we know, doesn’t wish to see the world this way. She sees the world as she’d like it to be. She strives to have courage and be kind. As she tells Kit during their first encounter, she believes that just because something is done doesn’t mean it should be. Or something like that. Wow, what a great character!

Except, wait a minute (again), didn’t I just describe how Ella scoffs at her step-sister for not being able to sing? Shouldn’t Ella instead have been kind and offered some constructive criticism, or perhaps try to steer Drizella towards a different passion better suited to her talents? Maybe Drizella could have been an amazing carpenter, or really good at accounting. We’ll never know, though. All we know is that she’s a shitty singer.

But surely Ella didn’t mean to shut her new family out of her life. She didn’t shy away from socializing with them. That scene of a party at her house, where she preferred to talk to the mice instead of the guests, to ask her father if he even misses her mother – that couldn’t possibly be misconstrued as anti-social or dismissive. She went so far as to offer her room to her new sisters! And her evil step-mother thanked her by sending her to the attic? Egads! She was totally justified in closing the door to attic, saying something (to the mice) along the lines of, “It’ll be better up here. At least there are no step-sisters!”

Surely when her step-family fires all the help in order to not run themselves into ruin and Ella (now Cinderella) has all household duties forced upon her, Cinderella couldn’t have said anything. That wouldn’t be kind. Saying something along the lines of, “Listen, ladies, I’m doing the work of an entire staff. Either be more patient with me, or please help. I’m doing all this to create a pleasant home for all of us. No, Madame, I’m not going to tie your shoes” would have been way too rude.

This is all, of course, very tongue in cheek, but I think it speaks about what we as a culture might understand when we say, “nice.” I’ve seen this movie three times now. Only movies that I absolutely love have I seen that many times. And I did not absolutely love Cinderella. But each time I saw it revealed a different interpretation based on who I saw it with. The third time was with my young cousins. The eldest, an 8 year old, pointed out a problem with my above complaints; just because Cinderella and people in general should always be kind, that doesn’t mean that the kindness will be received. So, as my cousin pointed out, Cinderella can be as nice to Lady Tremaine as is humanly possible, but that has no bearing on whether or not Lady Tremaine will accept or reciprocate the feelings.

It is at this point that I am struck at the similiarities between this story and Jane Eyre. As a side note, I am obsessed with Jane Eyre. I’ve never read the book (being remedied as you read this!), but I’ve seen every film adaptation, multiple times each. There’s something about that story that just tugs at me. Even so, I’m not sure I would have been able to draw any connection to it if things hadn’t worked out a particular way. I saw Cinderella one day, the next day I saw Jane Eyre, then I saw Cinderella again, to better formulate my thoughts. And on the second time through, I began to notice so many ways in which Cinderella and Jane are foils.

To begin with, Jane both sees the way the world is and knows how she’d like to see the world. Jane’s school was a much more horrible place than Cinderella’s home. Jane did what she had to in order to survive, but she didn’t lose her courage or kindness. She even notices and calls out the injustice of the social dynamics she’s in. Jane isn’t a super friendly person. But she never goes out of her way to avoid people or dismiss them. Jane and Mrs. Reed’s, the aunt who adopted her, relationship seems to be much the same as Cinderella and Lady Tremaine. Jane says to her aunt, “I could have loved you, if you let me.” It seems that Jane’s strained relationship with her aunt is due to her aunt’s aggressions. While my cousin cleverly pointed out that this is the same situation between Cinderella and Lady Tremaine, I argue that it is not clearly made in Cinderella

Jane Eyre also shows courage in all of her interactions with Mr. Rochester. Even though she is a “paid subordinate,” she speaks her mind and talks equally to him. She also had self-pride and left the toxic situation of living with a married man in Victorian England. Contrast this with Cinderella insistence on staying with her domineering step-family. Jane decided that she was better than that and left. You go, girl!

Another parallel to Cinderella is the Prince Kit. I actually think that having the two characters connect over their shared world views is a great way to fight the common argument people have against the fairy tale narrative where people meet once and are in love. The king says something to Kit along the lines of, “You’d marry a girl you met once in the woods?” The irony is not lost when Kit responds, “You’d have me marry a princess I met once tonight?”

Yes, I appreciate that Cinderella and Kit have similar worldviews. Unfortunately, Kit is just so much better at following them. He has courage to defend his kingdom to a potential bride and political ally when she slights the size of the kingdom. “I hope you won’t find our little kingdom too confining.” He shows kindness and courage to his father, the only other ultimate figure of authority other than Lady Tremaine, when he refuses to marry for any other reason than love. But why should he be better at following the film’s message than Cinderella? He’s not the protagonist – Cinderella is. The title of the fairy tale, and the film, isn’t Prince Kit. For him to embody and execute the major themes of the narrative undermines much of Cinderella’s achievements.

I’ve already laid out quite a few complaints about this film, but they ultimately boil down to this: Cinderella and Kit are spouting the same message – have courage and be kind – but only Kit actually follows them in a way that our culture values. We don’t praise the wet rag who lets people walk all over them. We praise those who stick up for what is right and just and good. Kindness should be exhibited to all people and animals, not just the ones we prefer. Kit does this, bucking his kingdom’s tradition of princes marrying princesses in order to marry for love, and he gets rewarded.

We have here a discrepancy in results yielded from actions based on gender. This has plagued fairy tales since their beginning. Maria Tatar, in her brilliant Off with Their Heads!, explores just this in chapter 3, “Reward-and-Punishment Tales,” and chapter 5, “Heroines and their Seven Sins.” While the entire book is a great read into the evolution of and implications in European fairy tales, these two chapters speak most pertinently to the double standard in fairy tales. Of male protagonists, Tatar says, “disobeying orders […] are part of the hero’s key to success” (67). Meanwhile, female protagonists are, “faced time and again with the task of demonstrating their domestic competence” (69).

Tatar continues this line of thought when looking at all the ways in which heroines can be sinful in fairy tales. Among the sins are disobedience and curiosity. My favourite fairy tale, “Bluebeard,” serves as her case study. Tatar concludes that “female curiosity is so often tainted with evil, while male curiosity is enshrined as a virtue” (111). This difference allowed an easy transformation of oral fairy tales featuring girls into “didactic lessons in which virtue and hard work were rewarded” (69) by 19^th century collectors. We see this result Disney’s many original fairy tale films the standard princess or country girl valued as virtuous only because she has a pretty face and is accomplished in the domestic arts. While these virtues reflect an era where there was perhaps not much else to the worth of a girl, they do not speak to our current 21^st century generation. Tatar ends her book with a sort of call to arms, urging parents and society to be more discerning with the tales they tell their children.

[…] fairy tales can still be told and retold so that they challenge and resist, rather than simply reproduce, the constructs of a culture. Through playful disruptions, it is possible to begin transforming canonical texts into fairy tales that empower and entertain children at the same time that they interrogate and take the measure of their participation in a project to socialize the child. (237)

This is something I can completely get on board with. It seemed as if Disney was, too. Its two most recent princess films, Frozen and Maleficent, each sought to undermine and reimagine classic feminine tropes in fairy tales. They were praised for their conspicuous changes that still served up empathetic and complex characters. These were great steps forward. So why then did they come out with this film, Cinderella, which took two steps back into the 19^th century’s sensibilities of a “proper girl?” I was more disappointed than anything.

A possible reason I can offer for this refusal to renovate the classic “Cinderella” story is because the film sought to deal with familial duty in a way that wasn’t dealt with the two previous Disney films. I think it also intended to offer a more adult and sympathetic motivations for Lady Tremaine. I think it went about its first goal in the wrong way and fell very short in the second.

An excuse Ella/Cinderella gives frequently throughout the film for staying in her abusive situation is that it’s what her parents would have wanted. Her mom loved the house, her dad loved the house, she loved the house, ergo she should never leave the house.

While the logic isn’t great, it is Cinderella’s guiding principle. The memory of her “golden childhood” is enough to keep her tied to the house when she really out to have found other family to live with. We see the continued unhealthy relationship Cinderella has with her memories during her attic imprisonment in the third act. Instead of attempting escape to seek out the man she loved (which is what Kit was doing), Cinderella was very content to stay locked up and relish in the memory of her one perfect night.

I argue that this is because Cinderella has been taught a warped form of duty, as indicated by her insistence on staying at her childhood home and her happiness to live within memories. Duty has long been a topic explored in mythology, but there is always the go-to, standard example we mythologists turn to: The Bhagavad Gita.

The Bhagavad Gita is a Hindu scripture, traditionally thought to be part of the larger Mahabharata epic narrative – though some scholars, like Eknath Easwaran, say that it was inserted later and should be considered an Upanishad (19). It depicts a conversation between Krishna and Prince Arjuna as Arjuna struggles with whether or not to fight in a family war, which the Mahabharata chronicles in depth. While the text is a holy text, and the question of duty is explored in more a spiritual way, I believe its inclusion bears on the conversation that Cinderella was attempting to have.

The basic plot of the Mahabharata is that one set of brothers (the righteous Pandavas) in a royal family are fighting their cousins (the Kauravas) for the throne. Right before the climactic battle the epic has been leading up to, Prince Arjuna (one of the Pandavas) is torn about having to fight his family members. Either way this battle turns out, he’s going to lose beloved uncles, cousins, and friends. He speaks to his charioteer, Krishna, for advice.

But wait!! It turns out Krishna is not just Arjuna’s childhood friend, but an avatar of Vishnu, a/the Hindu deity of creation. Woah. What a guy to have driving your chariot around.

The Bhagavad Gita is a very spiritual text concerned with teaching Arjuna, and through him the reader, the ways to reconcile the many desires we all have and harness them towards a path of equilibrium and balance. It does not preach asceticism. It teaches more that when our spirit, soul, and mind are one, our actions do not trouble us. We are not afflicted by our warring duties and we follow our dharma, or “the essential order of things” (Easwaran 31). We are training and growing toward becoming a Self-realized version of ourselves, at one with the Ātman (divine spirit within all beings). Once we commit to this path, we do not be act as ego-driven and instead are acting with enlightenment and respect for life.

The Bhagavad Gita certainly speaks of the same self-less kindness to all that Cinderella purportedly adheres to – though as I pointed out above, maybe she doesn’t do that so well. Essentially, while the Gita says to do as your dharma instructs you, it does say that self-respect is necessary. If your dharma is to serve, then serve in the mightiest way. If your dharma is to stay in your family’s home in an effort to preserve it, then steps should be taken to preserve it. Cinderella says she stays out of love and obligation, but she allows the place she’s seeking to cherish to become twisted. An inconsistency and character flaw like that isn’t suitable for an unsubtle fairy tale movie such as Cinderella.

Let’s move to a more accessible alternative. A kid’s movie that explored duty extremely well, in my opinion, was How to Train Your Dragon 2. It was nuanced and subversive that even I didn’t notice the discussion until Hiccup, the protagonist, had reached a conclusion. The entire film is centered around Hiccup’s refusal to accept his inherited place as the chief of his village. He wants to be able to do what he wants and fight adventure, while his father believes it’s time for Hiccup to settle down and lead a more cautious life. You can’t be chief and go running off after every dragon-napper, you know. Ultimately, Hiccup decides to follow his father’s wishes and become the chief. But he comes to this decision from a healthy place of autonomy. He’s now the chief because he truly wants to provide for his people, not because it would honor his father’s wishes. That’s good writing, people.

And secondly, the film failed in giving sufficient motivation or back story to Lady Tremaine. The writers hinted at something, but they literally dropped it and didn’t offer a multi-faceted character. Any attempt at an explanation was given the minimum word count and the maximum amount of acting (good job, Cate). When asked by Cinderella why she was so cruel, the wicked step-mother says, “You’re naïve, and good, and young, and I’m….”

That’s it? That’s it, then. Also, what the hell happens to her at the end? Where does she go? Where does the Duke go? What sort of fairy tale ending is – oh.

Another, smaller complaint I have is the role of magic in this film. At first I thought that the role of magic was going to be larger. There were numerous mentions of magic, namely Ella’s dying mother saying Ella had “magic in her little finger” and the existence of a Fairy Godmother. Then I thought that maybe the magic was going to be in more metaphorical sense and we wouldn’t see any pumpkin transformations at all, but no. We got one scene of magic in then don’t touch it ever again.

This also extends to my complaint about the Fairy Godmother. What a useless character! I honestly would have preferred we see none of her than the one 10 minute scene we got of a horrible voice over. Instead, we get no sort of explanation about who the F.G. is or how she became connected to Cinderella. Or why she couldn’t have saved Ella’s mother. Or Ella’s father. Or given her family money. Or unlocked Cinderella’s attic jail to save Ella.

My last few complaints don’t tie into the major arguments in this post, but I still have to put them out here and vent:

• What’s the deal with Jacqueline, the mouse? She wasn’t in the original movie. Is she special? Why is she with Gus Gus?
• The only animals we see consistently with any personality (the mice) get turned into animals that don’t speak (horses), but the lizard we saw for one scene gets to give Cinderella a pep talk?
• How long do these mice live for? They were there when Ella was a kid and live to see her married. Don’t mice have a lifespan of, like, two years? Gus Gus is immortal!
• Gus Gus and Jacqueline only had two kids? Pffffffffft.
• Are we really okay with Cinderella keeping – nay, inviting – mice in the house? Gross.
• Why are all animals good and kind, per Ella’s mom, but Lucifer, Lady Tremaine’s cat, gets scolded by Ella for wanting to eat the mice? You don’t scold the mice for bringing disease into your house, do you Cinderella?

I realize these are mostly mouse related. Maybe I have issues with mice? Woah, do I have a problem with mice? I will have to explore this a little more on my own time. What a revelatory post!

Ultimately, I liked this movie. I thought it was extremely well done and a beautiful representation of a “classic” fairy tale. It’s just a shame that Disney feels the need to return to the/their “classics,” instead of creating more of contemporary classics, stories that truly represent the values and goals we as a society are telling our children. Fairy tales always have a certain level of fantasy and impracticality. That doesn’t mean they have to be contrary to our culture’s principles.

THIS WAS A MONSTER AND I’M NOT SURE I LIKE THAT! I’m going to experiment and try out writing shorter posts. It’s going to be great, but it will have to wait until after next week because I’m going to be at the National Popular Culture Association Conference in New Orleans! I’ll be there Wednesday, April 1 through Saturday, April 4. I’ll be presenting on kaiju and monster movies on Friday Thursday! So if you’re there, check me out in Balcony J at 8 am (oof). I’ll be tweeting and doing smaller posts on Tumblr while I’m there. I love the PCA conference and am really looking forward to talking to all the wonderful academics about Schtuff!

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Works Cited

The Bhagavad Gita. Trans. Eknath Easwaran. 2nd ed. Tomales: Nilgiri, 2007. Print.

Tatar, Maria. Off with Their Heads! Fairy Tales and the Culture of Childhood. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1992. Print.