Disney and Philosophy

Truth, Trust, and a Little Bit of Pixie Dust

William Irwin, William Irwin

• Publisher: Wiley-Blackwell
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781119538356
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Philosophy History & Theory

Take a magic carpet ride through Disney's wonderful world of films and entertainment experiences, and discover the wisdom within its most popular and enduring stories

Philosophy begins in wonder, and there's no question that Disney's immersive worlds and iconic characters have enchanted generations of children and adults alike, inviting us to escape the mundane into a world of fantasy, imagination, and infinite possibility. In Disney and Philosophy, essays from thirty-two deep-thinking Disneyphiles chart a course through the philosophical world of Disney, tapping into the minds of the great sages of the ages—Plato, Aristotle, Confucius, Descartes, and Goofy—to explore universal questions of freedom, personal identity, morality, family, and friendship:

• Can Sleeping Beauty know that she's not dreaming?
• Does turning our emotions and memories "inside out" tell us who we are?
• What can Toy Story and Wall-E teach us about being human?
• Is hakuna matata really such a problem-free philosophy?

If you've ever asked who you are, what is right, or what your purpose is, Disney and Philosophy will spark your curiosity and imagination with a whole new world of unexpected insight into the Magic Kingdom.

Part I
“THE SEAWEED IS ALWAYS GREENER IN SOMEBODY ELSE'S LAKE”

1
Unruly Ariel: Not Born but Made a Woman

Megan S. Lloyd

Molly, my five‐year‐old niece, is going to Disney World soon. Of course, she's very excited. But she doesn't care at all about princesses, and that disappoints me. After all, Disney is princesses. Beginning with Snow White (1937), then Cinderella (1950), and Sleeping Beauty (1959), Disney marketed the favorite fairy tales of days gone by. Lovely ladies wished that “someday my prince will come” to move them out of or awaken them from a deathlike existence to live happily ever after in a new kingdom.

I don't think for a moment that my five‐year‐old niece is rejecting the gender stereotypes of Disney princesses. Molly is just a unique little girl who likes what she likes. But if she were concerned about the way Disney portrays women, she would do well to consider The Little Mermaid. As we'll see, Ariel represents a major step forward from Snow White.

After Sleeping Beauty, Disney experienced a lull in princess traffic. A long 30 years later, after the successes of such classics as One Hundred and One Dalmatians (1961), The Jungle Book (1967), and Robin Hood (1973), Disney revisited its princess roots with The Little Mermaid (1989), giving us a fairy tale with a determined heroine, ushering in a new kind of princess with a voice. Assertive Ariel clones followed with Belle from Beauty and the Beast (1991), Pocahontas (1995), and Mulan (1998). But does Ariel fix Disney's princess problem? Probably not. However, she does point the way forward.

Flip the Script

Ariel is a departure from the man‐requiring damsel in distress that made Disney famous. Our favorite mermaid is precocious, curious, and interested in all the world around her – above and below sea level. Beyond that, she can take care of herself. In her opening scene, Ariel swims, surveying the wreckage of a downed galleon with her friend, Flounder, and disregards the shark that swims nearby. Aristotle (384–322 BCE) famously said, “All men by nature desire to know.”¹ Ariel shows that the philosopher's observation was too narrow. Women, including mermaids, have innate curiosity, too. Ariel desires to know. In fact, everything about the world excites her. To nurture her curiosity, she collects all she can from beyond. Finding a fork in the wreckage she gleefully expounds with, “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Have you ever seen anything so wonderful in your entire life?” Aristotle would approve of her excitement. After all, he believed that philosophy begins in wonder.²

Ariel's treasure trove is full of dinglehoppers and snarfblats, but once she lays eyes on Prince Eric, the young man is the prize she wants most. When the Prince's ship splits, The Little Mermaid flips the script. Ariel saves her own Prince Charming. Roles continue to be reversed as Ariel drags him from the sea and gazes on him longingly as he lies there, unconscious or asleep, reminiscent of other Disney princesses, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Instead of Prince Charming, it is Princess Ariel who does the ogling. Not only does Ariel save Eric, but throughout the film she is the hero.

Like the epic heroes of literature, Ariel overcomes naysayers – like Sebastian; sacrifices part of her self – her voice; ventures into a whole new world – Eric's kingdom; and unites both worlds – land and sea. None of this comes easily, of course. To get what she wants Ariel makes an unholy alliance. In a nod to the Faustus story – you know the one where you sell your soul to the devil – Ariel makes a pact with the sea witch, Ursula. What could possibly go wrong?

Silencing Women and a Mermaid

Under the sea, Ariel has her voice and is even extolled for it. Indeed, her voice is the best in the kingdom. At the pageant for King Triton, her sisters sing well. In fact, all Ariel's sisters have voices, good voices, but Ariel is the star … fish. Early in the film, all are gathered for the premiere of the newest composition by the distinguished court composer, Horatio Thelonious Ignatius Crustaceous Sebastian. The new song will feature the talents of Ariel. Her sisters sing her in with, “And then there is the youngest in her musical debut, / Our seventh little sister, we're presenting her to you, / To sing a song Sebastian wrote, her voice is like a bell, / She's our sister, Ar ‐I …” Truly, her voice is like a bell, but the little mermaid has gone missing.

Ariel is so busy with her pursuit of human artifacts that she misses the big premiere. It's not just her singing voice that is strong. She is outspoken, assertive, doing her own thing, without regard for other family obligations. She is a young woman with a mind of her own and a voice of her own – in the best sense. Ariel's behavior may be negligent as she misses the premiere, but it is not conceited. This youngest and motherless daughter of King Triton has the strength of character to know who she is and what she wants. Ariel doesn't want to be subject to the rules under the sea. As she sings, Ariel wants to “go where the people go.” But why?

As Sebastian's lyrics remind us, “Under the Sea” all is well. In her father's kingdom, Ariel could live happily ever after. Sebastian's famous song, catchy tune and all, describes a submerged peaceable kingdom where all forms of sea‐life jam together and make beautiful music, with no hint of a food chain in sight. He describes a happy, content world with no troubles. No mention of the sharks lurking nearby, like the one who tries to attack Flounder. Triton's peaceable kingdom does not extend beyond the depths. Yet, Ariel is drawn upward. She should heed Sebastian's advice: “The seaweed is always greener / In somebody else's lake.” Part of her problem with the sea is teen angst and opposition to her father, as she believes that on land, people don't “reprimand their daughters.” Ariel assumes that on land, they “understand their daughters,” and they acknowledge “bright young women” like herself, “ready to stand.”

The desire to move beyond one's place often gets people into trouble. For women, especially, that trouble comes through their voices. In the Bible, Eve's tongue was the trap that led humanity to sin. In Greek mythology, the first woman, Pandora, was sent from the gods as a punishment to mankind after Prometheus stole fire. Her curiosity posed a problem for the whole earth. In another myth, Cassandra said no to the advances of Apollo who cursed her to speak the truth no one would believe.

A woman's voice was problematic in medieval times when a strident female, gossiping or challenging male authority, could be labeled a witch. In fact, The Little Mermaid supports the connection between assertive female behavior and witchcraft. Ariel and the sea witch herself, Ursula, share some significant things in common. Both are collectors. Ariel collects what she can from the land and contains her collection in a treasure trove under the sea. Ursula also collects, poor unfortunate souls, that she gathers in a cave treasury as well. Both want the power and the voice to do what they please.

In early modern Europe, the outspoken woman was considered a shrew to be tamed (as in the play). In Shakespeare's day, women who were talkative – and more importantly not following male hierarchy, like the rules Ariel's father gives her – were disciplined for their assertiveness. Many of these punishments were physically abusive, such as the cucking stool, where the shrew was taken to a body of water, strapped to a chair, and dunked in the water a few times, something close to waterboarding today. Another punishment was for her to be led around by the scold's bridle, a metal contraption put over her head complete with a barbed bit, as one might use on a horse. Both of these taming methods targeted the woman's voice as the source of evil. Because a woman's tongue gave way to ideas and potential power, it had to be restrained.

With this history in mind, we should shudder when Ursula offers to make Ariel human in exchange for her voice. The deal specifies that if Eric kisses Ariel before sunset on day three, she will remain human. Otherwise, Ariel's soul will belong to Ursula. To lure Ariel into her trap, Ursula minimizes the value of Ariel's voice, saying, “I'm not asking much. Just a token, really, a trifle. You'll never even miss it. What I want from you is … your voice.” But Ursula, of all creatures, understands the power of a woman's voice. She, herself, a commanding voice, has been ostracized, cast out and named the sea witch. Ursula knows that Ariel's singing voice is what first attracted Eric, and later Ursula uses Ariel's voice to lure him to her, the sea witch in disguise. To coax Ariel further, Ursula sings about how men on land don't want a woman with a voice: “The men up there don't like a lot of blabber / They think a girl who gossips is a bore / Yes, on land it's much preferred / For ladies not to say a word / And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for? / Come on, they're not all that impressed with conversation / True gentlemen avoid it when they can / But they dote and swoon and fawn / On a lady who's withdrawn / It's she who holds her tongue who gets her man.” Heading off the objection that without her voice, Ariel could not procure a kiss from Eric, Ursula reminds her, “You'll have your looks! Your pretty face! And don't underestimate the importance of body language! Ha!” Ursula says the prince will “never” miss her voice – she's got looks, a pretty face, and body language to get the kiss. So when Ursula snatches Ariel's voice in payment for legs, the sea witch gives Eric the epitome of stereotypical male desire – the beautiful silent female.

You Don't Complete Me

Ursula is right in at least one way, namely that Ariel is drawn to please the eye. Beginning with Laura Mulvey in 1975, feminist theorists have criticized the “male gaze” in film, the tendency to depict women in a way that caters to male desire.³ In the case of Ariel, it's not costuming and camera angles, but animation that does the trick. She is the sexiest of the Disney princesses, scantily clad with strategically placed sea shells. What's the harm? Whe...