In many
ways Frozen was to the new generation
what The Little Mermaid was to my
generation. Frozen has beautiful Disney music, singing, obsessed fans, and
enough merchandising to put all the accountants at Disney into a blissful
slumber for 100 years. I have heard
quite a bit of back and forth from those who consider Frozen to be a win for feminism and those who consider it to be a
step back. One particular article stood
out to me, the critique by actress and neuroscientist, Mayim Bialik. Dr. Bialik raised many good points, but I
feel there’s one aspect she didn’t consider.
Raising a counterpoint to Dr. Bialik feels a little presumptuous on my
part; it’s as though I’m a chimp trying to refute someone’s doctoral
thesis. However, regardless of the
content of the film itself, it is the reception of Frozen in young audiences that proved a win for feminism.
The
film presented us two royal sisters, Anna and Elsa. While both sisters are important to the plot
and have ample screen time, there was a clear favorite among fans young and
old. Elsa stole the show. Anna was clearly intended to be the main
protagonist. However, if costumes,
merchandising, and fan-frenzy have taught us anything, it’s that everyone loves
Elsa.
What’s
the difference between the two sisters?
Both were born princesses. Both
were beautiful. All the general
prerequisites of Disney Princesses were met.
The difference? The younger sister got a boyfriend at the end of the
movie. The older sister got a Kingdom,
bitchin’ magic powers, and a friggin’ ice castle (ok, and the best song in the
movie). The reception of Frozen proved that for little girls
everywhere, a handsome male companion was nothing compared to having magical
(and political) power. An entire generation of young girls have clearly shown
that girls want bitchin’ magic powers, not just some guy with a nice sleigh
(sorry Kristoff).
Women
with magical powers are not new to Disney, but that role has been limited to
villains, matriarchs, and brief plot devices.
Stop and review women with innate magic in prior Disney films. There’s the villains: Maleficent, Ursula, and
the Evil Queen. Then there’s the
matriarchs: the Fairy Godmother, Flora/Fauna/Merryweather, and the witch lady
from Brave. Outside of that, magic associated with Disney
Princesses was in the form of a plot device rather than a skill (i.e. Magic
Hair, Enchantresses fed up with snotty princes on Airbnb, Blue Fairies, Faustian
pacts, etc.).
When Frozen introduced Elsa, it introduced a young Disney woman with
serious magical ability fashioned through her own willpower and creativity. Elsa doesn’t simply perspire chilly air or
serendipitously cry healing tears; she can construct elaborate and beautiful
structures with her ability. She
transforms not from Princess to Queen, but from a woman whose innate talent
acted upon her into a woman who wields her power with proficiency and
grace. She is no longer the victim of
her circumstances or her environment, but rather the master of her own fate. This concept differentiates Elsa and many of
the contemporary Disney women from their predecessors.
While a work should be judged on
its content, and not its reception, I feel the reception of Frozen proved insightful into the future
of feminism. Fiction is transformative
in nature, but sometimes that transformation is not the one intended by the
creator. The absolute love affair with
Elsa reflects our enthusiasm as a society with women coming into strength and
power. A generation of girls are wanting
more than a rescue courtesy of a romantic partner. A generation of girls are looking up to a,
albeit fictional, woman in power. One
day the little girls running around in Elsa costumes at Halloween will be old
enough to read about the real women in positions of power who have shaped
history. And, if we nurture these girls,
they will grow up and change the world.
