Missing the Heart of the Fairy Tale

A Review of Disney's Frozen

Guys, it's moving week, so here is another lazy re-blog from Spinning Straw into Gold that I thought you might enjoy.

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I should be sleeping, or reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, but I stumbled upon this review of Frozen and remembered that I had similar things to say about it.  So.

I liked Frozen.   It was funny, sweet, and well-animated, if a bit buggish (whatever happened to the beautiful, graceful characters from original Disney, making appearances as late as Princess Tiana?).  The songs weren't particularly moving, but I did get the refrain do you want to build a snowman? stuck in my head, so I suppose it was effective.   It takes place in a clear and easy-to-pinpoint location with decent attention to the visualization of culture and customs.   Being a fan of folk culture, and especially Scandinavian folk culture, I enjoyed that part of the film immensely.  But for our purposes here on Straw into Gold, it is imperative that I communicate the residual impression it left with me, which was this: Frozen was not, except by a deft maneuvering of the imagination, a fairy tale.

My problem with Frozen is that it was virtually gutted of all things Faerie.

I don't mean that it was hardly recognizable from its inspiration, Hans Christian Anderson's The Snow Queen, although it was that.  I mean the magic was all but absent.

Oh, there was magic, as in the powers of Princess Elsa to make ice and snow from the touch of her fingertips.  But there was an utter lack of the magic of Faerie; the sense of and cautious reverence for the Otherworld; of danger from an almost-but-not-quite pernicious sentience; of the fickle, and uninterested, yet inexplicably connected existence just beyond the reach of of our own.  There was no alarm at Elsa's powers or inkling that something deeper was going on in relation to them (the curse of a slighted fairy, or the residual trait of an ancestor's mingling with gods); and even the characters' fear of Elsa was not found in the nature and source of the powers but in her potential to do damage with them.  After the ball scene when the new queen's secret is revealed, Anna doesn't even pause to wonder at this astounding development; it's all par for the course.  "So that's why she's shut me out all these years."  O-kay.

Granted, in traditional fairy tales, fantastic events are often presented without any commentary on their fantasticness.  But the fairy tales never mean to make the fantastical belong to the mortal.  There is always an explanation of sorts, even if that explanation shuts out further investigation, like the lid of box snapping shut on a hand.  "She was actually a faerie changeling in disguise."  That's it, that's all that's needed.  A recognition of the Other, of some always-and-ought-to-be unknown.

Even the trolls are pared down to their lowest common denominator, emptying them of all the mystery and danger of the otherfolk and making them mere comical, cartoonish creatures.

Finally, the glass shard in the heart* loses its potency.  Rather than darkening the sight of Anna,** the shard in the eye (generalized to "head" in the movie) only knocks her unconscious and turns white a strand of her hair.  All her memories have to be erased so she forgets her sister's gift-curse and doesn't question Elsa's separation from her.  But that is a secondary, and not a direct, result of the ice shard.  The second ice shard slowly freezes Anna's body but leaves her heart untainted.  What kind of congress with Faerie only touches the outside of a person, only his physical existence; leaves his perception of the world unshaken?

When Anna finally reaches the palace of her ice queen sister, it is opposite of what little Gerda finds when she arrives at the sheer and terrible fortress of the Snow Queen.  Anna finds only a very human girl, with very human hurts and emotions and fears, and the rest of the palace empty.  But Gerda finds the Snow Queen absent--as her nature, one might say, is a great, gaping absence--and dear Kai with his soul half-killed, working away mechanically at a puzzle made of shards of ice, trying, yet ever failing, to form the word eternity.  Anna's act of sacrificial love for her sister Elsa breaks the spell, as one would expect.  When Elsa feels and knows her sister's love for her, her frigid emotional walls falter and crumble.  It is a self-administered cure.  But when Gerda finds poor Kai enslaved to logic--the ice-cold logic of the mind, of science, of nature, and of seasons--her shed tears melt his heart and wash loose the shards of glass.

For Faerie is vast and fierce, and we often tremble before it and believe ourselves helpless.  But in this, the heroes and heroines of fairy tales prove us mistaken.  We are not helpess.  Faerie is wild but not immune to obeisance--for those with stout hearts and stubborn wills, though the winter seem endless, and the journey long.




* changed from glass to ice in the movie, so as to remove the uncomfortable and politically incorrect hell-mirror-falling-from-heaven scenario
** who is the combination of Kai and Gerda from Anderson, though Elsa, the Snow Queen figure, has bits of Kai in her as well

Five Favorites (vol. 45)

Jan. 29, Feast of St. Gildas the Wise, a post-Roman, pre-Saxon British abbot, renowned for his historical (now known to be pseud-historical) work, in which can be found one of the first written records of King Arthur.  He preached to the mother of St. David, patron of Wales, while she was pregnant with him.  Gildas is responsible for converting much of the island of Ireland, and the influence of his writing survived long into the Middle Ages, particularly in the Celtic Church.  We like St. Gildas, if you couldn't tell!

1  //  Valentine's Day Scandinavian folk-style Tree of Life coasters are something I'd probably make string banner out of rather than use them to absorb leaky beverages.

2  //  Knee-high knitted socks with Scandinavian ornaments keep your toes warm in fierce weather.

3  //  I can see this Nordic winter wreath as bright spot in a mound of white, the only indication of a cozy, insulated, buried house in the snow.

4  //  This Swedish folk cushion cross stitch pattern makes me happy.

5 // Swedish Dalahäst printed tea towel is functional and cheery.

If there's one thing I like as much as I do Arthurian Britain and the Celtic peoples and their saints (see St. Gildas above), it's Scandinavian folk art and folk culture.  Probably because the Christmas season has ended but winter's still in full bluster, my mind fancies far, white northern regions and their cheerful, intricate designs warding off the dark and ice.  I listen to Scandinavian folk music and Google rosemaling and dahla horses.  I think about The Snow Queen and the reindeer herders and the sagas that share common heroes and gods with our English language and legacy.  I think about it all the time, actually, but at the cusp of January-February, it is especially fitting.

So!  My five favorite sorta-functional Scandinavian items.

Five Favorites (Vol. 31)

Oct. 2, Feast of the Guardian Angels.

-- 1 + 2 --

Primitives by Kathy makes embellished word art for every season.  As I've said before, I like word art, and not just because it's a fad.  Unfortunately, they're pretty expensive for a chunk of painted wood.  Fortunately, they tend to come out early and so go on sale about a month before the approaching holiday.

Which, in this case, is my second favorite: HALLOWEEN.

I am a huge fan of Halloween.

-- 3 --

Haling back to my inexplicable obsession with all things Scandinavian--and I mean in furniture, art, culture, literature, genetics, language, landscape, knitting . . . all things--the Norwegian and Swedish art of rosemaling attracts me.  It can range from simple, Shaker-esque paint strokes on wooden furniture to rich-colored, highly detailed stenciling.  If I see anything that vaguely reminds me of rosemaling or that could pass as it, I want it.

I've yet to paint my own decorations, but I do want to.  Especially with the abundance of resources online nowadays.  I can find some authentic stencils and decorate the pieces I already own.

-- 4 --

I saw these witty paper organizing tools in the bookstore, and now I can't remember the name of the company that makes them.

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I purchased this scarf at World Market this past summer.  It's part of a collection called Gypsy Caravan (awesome, right?!).  The color, the weight and feel of the fabric, and the bunch and drape of the scarf make a winning combination.  I bought with it a necklace to match (it's woven many strands of woven string of the same color, strung with small, brassy beads).

I also got two ceramic doorknobs to install into an old cupboard.  They're stamped with a very simple red design that reminds me of . . . you guessed it!  Rosemaling.

I could have stayed in World Market for much longer, but I didn't, which was a mercy to all parties involved, myself and my wallet.

What We're Reading Wednesday

Sept. 25, Feasts of Saint Finbarr of Cork, from whence my husband's maternal family hails.  The Irish saint drove out a great serpent from the lake in Gougane, creating the channel that is now the river Lee.

Today is my husband's birthday!  We love you, cariad!

However, he has no interest in books, so the above three are my picks.  (Interestingly, and totally unrelated, two of the three books above have punctuation marks as part of their titles.  Huh.)

1.  Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton

I've been interested in this book ever since I caught scenes of the movie The Thirteenth Warrior on television and saw that it was about VIKINGS.  I wanted to know more, and gathered over the years that it was based on a book that was a re-telling of the Beowulf epic.  I knew then I had to read it.  However, I could never find it in the library, despite the popularity of this author (Crichton also wrote Jurassic Park, among others).  So last time I was at the book store, I bought this little inexpensive copy and am very happy I did.

The story is narrated by a real historical figure whom the author borrowed and adapted for his novel, naturally infusing it with veracity--but he doesn't stop there.  He makes the narrative a kind of "found" manuscript, with notes and insertions from translators and even an appendix in back, with imaginary sources and experts in the field.

Crichton adopts the voice of the Arabic courtier, Ibn Fadlan, and makes a pretty good transition between the original, true accounts and the fictional ones.  I notice a greater tendency toward poetic description and more personal reaction in the fictitious part, which makes up the entirety of the book after the first three chapters, but I didn't really notice the transition until I was already well in and won over.

The premise of the novel is that the monsters of Beowulf, particularly Grendel, were based on a historical event--actually a tribe of remnant Neanderthals that survived in Scandinavia and attacked Hrothgar's (Rothgar in the novel) hall.  The account of the event through a foreigner's eyes is well chosen because Ibn Fadlan gives us explanations and reflections that he wouldn't have if he were a Northman.  I enjoyed reading about their unique customs and culture (not sure what was fact and what was fictitious--this book has made me realize that I need to pick up some non-fiction reading on Vikings) and also this re-adaptation of a classic of Western civilization.

According to Crichton, he set out to write Eaters of the Dead to prove to a scholar friend that the saga of Beowulf was not boring.  I say, good for you!  And well done.

2.  Call to Action or Call to Apostasy? by Brian Clowes

I rented this from the parish library on a whim.  I was intrigued because I accidentally attended a Call to Action talk in college at the local Franciscan center and was shocked into a cold sweat by what the woman was saying.  It took all my strength to remain sitting, firmly gripping my chair, my jaw clenched--and a few dozen Hail Mary's besides.  This is basically a rudimentary booklet outlining the way dissenters attack the four aspects of the Church--one, holy, catholic, and apostolic--with some resources and advice for beginners wanting to get involved.  The author remains charitable and makes a clear distinction between the dissenters themselves and their unworthy intentions.  He writes, "It is not us against them.  It is all of us against Satan."  Very important.

It was a quick and easy read, and I'm glad for having read it.  However, there are probably more thorough and contemplative studies out there, if CTA, CORPUS, WATER, and other agitation groups aren't new to you.

3.  Ghosts in the House! by Kazuno Kohara

I.  Love.  This book.  It's most everything I cherish about my childhood memories of Halloween between two covers, accented by beautiful, tri-chromatic illustrations.  The crisp, elegant, and cute illustration style is so typical of Japanese children's art (think Hello Kitty), and the white-orange-black combination is surprisingly stunning and effective.  It looks like Ms. Kohara cut out tissue paper for the ghosts and glued it to her wood-block-print pictures.

The story itself is cute and fun, from the ghosts in the washing machine to the little white cat who puts on a black "catsuit" when his mistress dons her pointy witch hat!  My two-and-a-half-year-old son loves this, and I love reading it to him!  New favorite.  Perfect for Halloween.

I really want her other picture books now, Little Wizard and Jack Frost.

Winter after Christmas

Almost all the Christmas things are down and put away, but I've left up the greenery.  Greenery is still appropriate at this time of year, when everything is new and hopeful.  The season has passed, the lights are taken down.  So it's more important than ever, I think, to keep out the staleness of winter, sweep out the lingering dead scraps of last year.

I identify this period with Scandinavia, of coldness without holiday, but with a magic all of its own.  The vast, ancient north that Lewis and Tolkien cherished.  White expanses of mystery, snow, and things hidden, remain to be seen.

My taste in housekeeping is heavily influenced by Scandinavian folk culture.  Maybe you've noticed.  I like color, rich and pigmented, and hand-painted details.  Wood and intricate carvings.  Knitted accents, baskets,  snowflake geometric details.  Balanced with linen-white, to keep it fresh.

I hope to have a home fortified against the cheerless world, the way I imagine the folk art of many cultures fortifying and strengthening their people.  I guess, as a mutt American, I have to borrow from other cultures to accomplish that.

Saint Valentine's Day things are beginning to appear.  A day of fertility, celebrating love and beginnings: the day after my son was born, and the day of my (adopted) godmother's birth.