When I was little, like most of you girls -- and probably boys, though they won't admit it -- "The Little Mermaid" was one of my favorite movies. Believe it or not, I vaguely remember seeing the film when it came out in 1989, though we had to leave early because my 2-year-old brother was scared of the evil sea witch, Ursula. What a baby.
I had all the dolls, the video, the cassette tape (oh the '80s) and the porcelain figurines. My best friend and I would act out scenes from the movie, because I knew (and still know) all the words to the songs by heart and could quote various lines to use in real life situations -- calling forks "dinglehoppers," for example. So you can imagine my excitement when I learned the movie is now available on DVD and that I could relive the magic all over again, except this time digitally remastered!
Upon viewing the movie for the first time in some years, I was struck, even disenchanted, with Disney's portrayal of romance and ideal beauty. Eric is still as dreamy as he ever was, but he is so unrealistically perfect. I'll bet the real life Prince Eric would be like: "Psh, whatever, I'm going to do another beer bong or something," and would resemble a pretentious snob with double popped collars. Though, I did meet Aladdin at Disney World, and let me tell you, he is just as hot and wonderful in real life, so who knows. And King Triton -- I mean, no one's dad looks like that! Thank God. I did find it amusing that Eric is seduced by the bitchier, skankier Ursula-in-disguise and ignores the naïve, sweet Ariel. Now that is true to life! And, of course the villain of the movie and several other ridiculous characters are the only ones without stereotypically perfect bodies.
Yet, I found myself wishing Ariel would wise up and realize she didn't need a land-locked prince wearing tight pants to be happy -- how good she had it under the sea with her musical, aquatic friends and her pimped-out palace. I wanted her to be empowered and happy with her self image, rather than have Disney reinforce the idea that girls have to change themselves for sexy princes to notice them, even though they have perfect bodies ... well, upper bodies anyway. And no wonder a lot of girls are hopeless romantics -- every Disney fairytale ends happily with a wedding and familial acceptance.
Now don't get me wrong, the Little Mermaid is still one of my all time favorites. I mean, the song "Kiss the Girl" is up there on my iTunes play list. But is it just me, or have we all become more cynical upon entering into early adulthood? Does college turn us into critical analyzers who are incapable of enjoying an animated fairytale or even a novel read for pleasure without finding fault with its messages and themes?
Because I am a media studies minor, I have learned and must accept that Disney is a monopolizing, profit-hungry corporation wielding unsurpassed influence, and that the production of "The Little Mermaid" was more likely just another way to maximize on the power of synergy and American consumption rather then an attempt to inspire magic and romantic hope in the hearts of our generation. Really, one must wonder if they learned anything from "Aladdin" when all the greedy people got eaten by the Cave of Wonders. Obviously, Disney cannot hold our attachment to the magic and entertainment value with which its fairytale movies once enticed us. We obviously prefer more mature films, like "The Departed," which I recently saw, where realism is taken to the extreme and even the good guys don't fare so well.
Can we really ever be part of that world again, where it was so easy to believe in happily ever after and that flounders, crabs with Jamaican accents and flighty seagulls could be our friends and confidantes? Or will we now disregard the movie as a frivolous, money-making ploy by Disney to encourage us to buy more stuff at an early age? I can't speak for the rest of you, but despite its idealism and propagation of stereotypes, this movie will always be a classic for me, for no other reason than it reminds me of my childhood.
Mary's column runs bi-weekly on Wednesdays. She can be reached at mbaroch@cavalierdaily.com.