Huck Finn, Mary Sue
Or: Twain Didn’t Write A Political Ending
December 19, 2007
Revised From: November 13, 2005
James Fenimore Cooper’s The Pioneers is one of the first popular American novels. Some might argue that it painted the myth of America that persists through today. Natty Bumpo made the novel successful, with his “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” attitude. Yet, The Pioneers is not a critical favorite. As far as most critics are concerned, American literature began with Mark Twain, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. However, even Twain’s novel is often regarded as a failure in regard to all of its political investments. One might say that almost the entire second half of the novel is unnecessary, and that the real climax occurs between Huck and Jim on the river. Why is Huck Finn regarded as central to America, whereas The Pioneers is not?
As far as bad endings go, Cooper is even worse than Twain. He ends the novel by having Elizabeth Taylor marry Oliver Effingham, the character that Cooper wanted to be the hero, but that no one cared about. Oliver Effingham represents meaningless traditions and upper class values. Oliver Edwards reveals that he is actually Oliver Effingham, son of Major Effingham, on page 437 of the text—chapter 40, just one chapter before the ending. Having Oliver on the periphery, with his identity masked until the very end, makes Oliver come off as unreliable and dishonest. Are we really supposed to believe that it is because of his intellectual superiority that he duped everyone in the novel, and the audience?
Oliver also has to wail about the injustice done to his grandfather—that he had some sort of rightful claim to being a better person than anyone else because of what his lineage suggested. If there’s a sure way to lose an American audience, it’s this. And, compared to what Natty goes through, such as getting shot at the beginning of the novel, Oliver simply has less credibility than Natty.
Why would Cooper want Oliver to be the real hero of the novel? Well, he is an intelligent character, and he does listen to those around him. He’s attentive. In a way, Oliver is exactly what Cooper, in his pretentiousness, wanted his American audience to be. He wanted them to appear to be Pioneers, but to actually end up being Aristocracy in the course of reading his novel. The Americans knew who they were, though. They were Natty Bumpo, victims, heroes, and survivors—and honest. It’s no wonder that Cooper retired in England, where he could return to aristocracy and classical roots.
Perhaps the central reason that Huck Finn is so effective as a protagonist is because he essentially combines the best elements of both Natty and Oliver, without the baggage of either. He has the “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” style of Natty, but the propensity for deception that an author finds so likeable in a hero. Like Natty, Huck is a poor white males on the fringe of society. Just as Natty is shot by a judge at the beginning of The Pioneers, Huck is abused by his father at the onset of Huckleberry Finn. Like Natty, Huck ends the novel by deciding to Go West. Yet, unlike Natty, Huck lies. As Oliver deceives everyone, making them think he’s someone lower in the social hierarchy of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Huck pretends to be dead, pretends to be a girl, and later pretends to be George Jackson. The first two are perhaps more obvious in how they would change Huck’s social relations to those around him. Huck pretends to be George Jackson, however, to retain his anonymity. Who is George Jackson? He, too, is no one, with a name so generic that no one is likely to remember him. These are things Natty Bumpo would never do. And, by casting the story from Huck’s perspective, and keeping the audience in on the jokes, they are amused, rather than offput, by Huck’s deception.
If Twain so fluidly combines the appealing elements of Cooper’s characters, why didn’t he also find a way to write a more satisfying ending? Perhaps it can be understood in how each character tries to legitimate themselves. Huck’s story begins with oppression at the hands of his father. Natty’s story begins with his oppression at the hands of the Judge. Oliver’s story ends (and in a sense begins) with the oppresion of his Grandfather. How does each of those compare, though, to the oppression the slave Jim experiences in Huck Finn? Jim is a slave, whipped to work, and denied education. An audience tends to sympathize with oppressed characters. Yet they also need a character that reminds them of themselves, that they can identify with. When an Other is presented that deserves more sympathy, an audience becomes too aware of the political investments of a story. Suppose Twain had developed the Christian metaphors for Huckleberry Finn. If Jim became a Christ figure, tortured and maimed and killed, the audience would have sympathized with him even more—and Twain would have become a political writer, rather than a comedian.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Who Wants To Be Subjective?
Clinging On To That Phantasmal Stuff
Or: Who Wants To Be Subjective?
December 18, 2007
Revised From: December 3, 2006
The key insight of Slavoj Zizek’s article “Bring Me My Philips Mental Jacket” could be summarized in a quote that occurs halfway through his article: “It's not so much that we are losing our dignity and freedom with the advance of biogenetics but that we realize we never had them in the first place.” From this, Zizek concludes, “Reducing my being to the genome forces me to traverse the phantasmal stuff of which my ego is made, and only in this way can my subjectivity properly emerge.” When one makes such sweeping claims about what “humanity” is, and how our conceptions of “humanity” are being changed, one wonders how other ideas, such as justice, value, or meaning, also stand up. If we view “humanity” as no more than a genome, are these things to reduced to “subjectivity”? Unfortunately, Zizek does not define what he means by subjectivity in that article, and for now I will refrain from using his other works on a presupposition that he uses the term consistently.
Do these arguments reconceptualize “value” as something that is so fluid it is meaningless? Does how we live our lives change if we accept Zizek’s terms—are we left compelled to do, or not do, anything?
Let’s use Zizek’s terms in looking at an example from Bruce Sterling’s Holy Fire. In Sterling’s novel, the world is full of “post-humans.” I used to think that they were post-human simply because they were too old to be regarded as human. In some senses, this is the case. Their bodies have deteriorated so much that they require constant medical attention just to stay alive, and some of these operations change them at nearly every biological level. Yet, in some senses, this isn’t the complete cause. I forgot to include another factor. They are dependent on the medical system to ensure that they continue receiving these life-extending treatments. This means that they are incapable of doing anything that differs from the norm. They are incapable of exploring the world, of acting in new and exciting ways, at the threat of losing their medical coverage that they depend on to live. At the very onset of the novel, after all, a character commits suicide, unwilling to live on those terms.
Yet, on the strictest sense, that is not enough to regard them as post-human, if we use Zizek’s terms. Instead, they should still technically be humans—since they should still have the same genomic structure. In regarding the world as humans, reduced to preserving their particular genomic structure, but not their freedom, or the capacity to behave in new ways, once certainly might say that their “subjectivity” has emerged. Yet what do they gain from this? Are they not, in a sense, still slaves to the medical industry?
Consider a different case, a man who is not strictly speaking post-human. Emil is a an artist, and not much of the novel dwells on him at length. Emil hates who he is, so he takes drugs to erase his memory. His friends regard the post-amnesiac Emil as a completely different individual. Is his “humanity” changed as a result? Not by Zizek’s terms.
What does one gain or lose in affirming or denying one’s “humanity”? Why does one want to view the world in terms of subjectivity? It may very well be the case that Zizek is correct, that our humanity can be reduced to our genome. Yet, who wants to live with that conclusion in mind? What’s so great about subjectivity? If that is the case, then Emil lost nothing, and gained nothing, in taking the drugs that turned him amnesiac.
Or: Who Wants To Be Subjective?
December 18, 2007
Revised From: December 3, 2006
The key insight of Slavoj Zizek’s article “Bring Me My Philips Mental Jacket” could be summarized in a quote that occurs halfway through his article: “It's not so much that we are losing our dignity and freedom with the advance of biogenetics but that we realize we never had them in the first place.” From this, Zizek concludes, “Reducing my being to the genome forces me to traverse the phantasmal stuff of which my ego is made, and only in this way can my subjectivity properly emerge.” When one makes such sweeping claims about what “humanity” is, and how our conceptions of “humanity” are being changed, one wonders how other ideas, such as justice, value, or meaning, also stand up. If we view “humanity” as no more than a genome, are these things to reduced to “subjectivity”? Unfortunately, Zizek does not define what he means by subjectivity in that article, and for now I will refrain from using his other works on a presupposition that he uses the term consistently.
Do these arguments reconceptualize “value” as something that is so fluid it is meaningless? Does how we live our lives change if we accept Zizek’s terms—are we left compelled to do, or not do, anything?
Let’s use Zizek’s terms in looking at an example from Bruce Sterling’s Holy Fire. In Sterling’s novel, the world is full of “post-humans.” I used to think that they were post-human simply because they were too old to be regarded as human. In some senses, this is the case. Their bodies have deteriorated so much that they require constant medical attention just to stay alive, and some of these operations change them at nearly every biological level. Yet, in some senses, this isn’t the complete cause. I forgot to include another factor. They are dependent on the medical system to ensure that they continue receiving these life-extending treatments. This means that they are incapable of doing anything that differs from the norm. They are incapable of exploring the world, of acting in new and exciting ways, at the threat of losing their medical coverage that they depend on to live. At the very onset of the novel, after all, a character commits suicide, unwilling to live on those terms.
Yet, on the strictest sense, that is not enough to regard them as post-human, if we use Zizek’s terms. Instead, they should still technically be humans—since they should still have the same genomic structure. In regarding the world as humans, reduced to preserving their particular genomic structure, but not their freedom, or the capacity to behave in new ways, once certainly might say that their “subjectivity” has emerged. Yet what do they gain from this? Are they not, in a sense, still slaves to the medical industry?
Consider a different case, a man who is not strictly speaking post-human. Emil is a an artist, and not much of the novel dwells on him at length. Emil hates who he is, so he takes drugs to erase his memory. His friends regard the post-amnesiac Emil as a completely different individual. Is his “humanity” changed as a result? Not by Zizek’s terms.
What does one gain or lose in affirming or denying one’s “humanity”? Why does one want to view the world in terms of subjectivity? It may very well be the case that Zizek is correct, that our humanity can be reduced to our genome. Yet, who wants to live with that conclusion in mind? What’s so great about subjectivity? If that is the case, then Emil lost nothing, and gained nothing, in taking the drugs that turned him amnesiac.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Influenza as a Bioterror Weapon
The Potential For Influenza as a Bioterror Threat
Or: What is This Terrorism Thing Anyway?
December 17, 2007
Revised From May 4, 2005
We are familiar with influenza as a naturally occurring disease that has caused countless deaths worldwide. There have been several epidemics worldwide over the past century, including an avian form that has decimated bird populations. Older estimates of casualties from the 1918 form, sometimes called the “Spanish Flu,” is said to either have killed 40-50 million people (in older reports), or 50 to 100 million people, possibly more than the entire course of The Black Death.
It is left to speculation to imagine the toll of the detonation of an atomic bomb on an American city. Of course, it depends on the bomb, and the city. Certainly, bombs today have exponentially more capacity for destruction than those dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. But, would even one of those have the capacity to kill 40 million people—at least?
Today, the genomic structure of the 1918 form of Influenza has been published online at the GenBank database. (Actually, it was published back in 2005).
Suppose the Spanish Flu was not only recreated, but weaponized. Would we be able to avoid a toll like the one in 1918, of 50 million deaths? We could stockpile the vaccine. But, due to influenza’s short time between exposure and the onset of the virus, stockpiled vaccines would not necessarily help those exposed.
Because it is a disease that is not only contained to a laboratory but also is naturally occurring, it holds an additional capacity for bioterrorism because any outbreak of a weaponized form may be misattributed to the more common form. On the one hand, this thought is terrifying. But, on the other hand, it means that we might be able to respond to each with a similar apparatus.
Longini et al. used the pandemic of 1918 and the 1957 Asian influenza pandemic as a basis to analyze the health care system’s potential to withstand large scale pandemics. They recognize that a vaccine may not be fully capable of helping in the case of a pandemic, so they recommend stockpiling anti-virals. If the vaccine should become available, they believe that vaccinating 80% of those aged 18 and below would be 93% effective in containing pandemic influenza.
The steps necessary to prevent a pandemic are not purely based in vaccinations. Should a pandemic begin to emerge, vaccinations and anti-virals would be vital in curbing the spread of the disease. However, in preventing a pandemic, since subjects become symptomatic only 1-4 days after exposure, early detection of the disease is much more necessary than it would be in similar diseases such as smallpox. Further, a paper by Madjid found that influenza can be aerosolized, and the aerosolized form is more virulent than other forms.
The possibility of influenza being distributed in an aerosolized form suggests that instead of focusing purely on vaccination, we also could have detection systems in place. With the strain’s genomic structure becoming publicly available, the capacity for it to be released in an aerosolized form increases drastically. Even though influenza is a virus that has confronted American society for over a hundred years, longitudinal studies have learned more about the repercussions of the disease in recent years. Further, the capacity for vaccines to remain functional requires constant analysis on how the disease develops. Many further studies need to be done to combat the disease not only as a disease with the possibility for causing an epidemic, but also as a potential bioterror threat.
Even though influenza has been evident in society for a lengthy period of time, it is still a developing and changing disease. As we learn more about it—with the impending release of its genomic structure, and its evolution over time and adaptation to vaccines, influenza is as much a threat now as ever. With the new capacity of it becoming a bioterror agent, investing in combating it is doubly necessary not only to combat the naturally occurring disease, but also to prevent its use as a biological weapon.
Who would do such a thing, as weaponize influenza and then release it? Diseases, unlike bombs, can mutate in the course of their destruction. Perhaps the reason that we have not seen a weaponized pathogen like Influenza released successfully has been due to its capacity for mutation and coming back to annihilate the makers. Yet, the “pros” of bioterrorism to a successful assailant suggest that a strain like this one might still be developed. Unlike nuclear warfare, weaponized pathogens hold the capacity to kill an entire population yet leave their natural resources in-tact. Stockpile the antivirus to the disease in your own country, and then release it somewhere else. When the first reports of the disease spread, close your borders to that country and any country with reports of infection. The 1918 form was released in the hopes that it would help scientists combat modern forms of influenza, and the avian flu. Let us hope, and work to ensure, that that is all it is ever used for.
Who Would Listen To A Magic Mirror?
In Defense of The Queen
Or: Who Would Listen to a Magic Mirror?
December 16, 2007
Revised from April 28, 2007
Convinced that it would fail, the Hollywood film industry labeled Snow White "Disney's Folly". When it was finally released, it held the title of “highest grossing film of all time” until the release of “Gone With The Wind” a year later. It was the first full-length animated feature film to come out of the United States. When the DVD hit stores in 2001, more than 1 million copies were sold on its first day.
Considering how much production cost (Disney had to mortgage his house to finish production), it’s amazing how many scenes were cut for its theatrical release. Some cuts were due to censorship, such as the opening with Snow White’s mother. But even with such cuts, when the film opened at New York City’s Radio City Music Hall, all the velvet seat upholstery had to be replaced. Young children were so frightened of the sequence with Snow White lost in the forest that they wet their pants.
Snow White established the franchise that persists today: the Disney Princesses. AFI ranked The Queen #10 in its list of top 50 villains of all time (Snow White didn’t even make the top 50 heroes). The Dwarves, Dopey in particular, have been one of the most visible icons at Disneyland for years.
Even before Disney remade it, Snow White was one of the most celebrated fables of Europe. Its origin might even go back to The Middle Ages.
What made this story so popular? Why has it survived over the years? And what does it mean today, in its current incarnation as film? In asking these questions, I am led to ask more specific questions about the entailments from certain incongruities in the film, and led to question most of all the representation of The Queen. Why is she so mad—and why on earth is she talking to a Magic Mirror?
Lets start with The Dwarves:
In the original Grimm fairytale of “Snow White,” the dwarfs were not named. Early drafts of the Disney version included an extensive list of possible names. But, as Walter Brasch in Cartoon Monickers explains, “the final list included only descriptive names: Awful, Bashful, Biggo-Ego… Grumpy, Happy… Sleepy, Snappy, Sneezy, Sneezy-Wheezy, Snoopy.” Dopey and Doc were added later. The directors named Doc after they developed him as “The guy who was aggressive and liable to take leadership… He ended up being called ‘Doc.’ I suppose that would stem from the fact that a doctor is somebody who is supposed to be able to point the direction.” Brasch attributes these choices to Disney’s ingenuity. Yet, Brasch both fails to capture why the dwarfs were so appealing to American audiences, and completely ignores the fact that the characters in the original fable, Snow White, The Huntsman, and The Queen, were all also descriptively named.
Now we move on to the intricate relationship between The Magic Mirror and The Queen. At the onset of the movie, The Queen asks, “Magic mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” The question, with its alliteration and rhyme, is probably the most famous line of the movie. Yet the answer is often forgotten, despite its significance: “Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But hold, a lovely maid I see. Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee.” Notice what we learn about the mirror from this line. Not only is the mirror capable of noticing beauty, but also it holds the capacity to see subjects who are not present. Just as a camera captures and image and reproduces it on film, so is the Magic Mirror capable of reproducing the image of someone far away. When The Queen demands “Reveal her name.” The Mirror responds, “Lips red as the rose. Hair black as ebony. Skin white as snow.” To which The Queen exclaims, “Snow White!” The Mirror, like the camera, cannot name the character it sees—like the camera, it is only capable of showing that information. But in the world of Disney’s Snow White, with its descriptive names, that is all that is necessary.
There is something else only hinted at in this scene. What is the real cause of Snow White’s “gentle grace” that “rags cannot hide?” Is it her “lips red as the rose. Hair black as ebony. [And] skin white as snow.” How “deep” can this mirror really see? Can it penetrate her soul, or merely her clothes?
There is something else, too, in the elaborate plan The Queen sets up to kill Snow White. Her plot involves more than simple murder. It is an assault upon the images and symbols of feminine beauty associated with Snow White. “Take her far into the forest,” The Queen orders The Huntsman, “Find some secluded glade where she can pick wildflowers… and there, my faithful huntsman, you will kill her!” The Queen is a Queen, why must she hide this execution? Why must it be secluded? Who is she hiding it from?
Really, we see very few people in Snow White. We do not know the intricate familial relations that put Snow White at the mercy of The Queen. Yet, in this instance, the question begged is: Where is The King? Why would he allow Snow White to be transformed into a servant preceding the beginning if he lives, and who is The Queen hiding Snow White’s murder from if he doesn’t?
I can think of two possible reasons The Queen wanted to kill Snow White in the glade that does not involve hiding from the King. First, it is possible that The Queen wanted to hide Snow White’s death from herself. This, however, is unsatisfactory. After all, she has very little hesitation in trying to kill Snow White later.
The second possibility is that The Queen was not trying to hide Snow White’s death from anyone. Instead, The Queen did not merely want Snow White to die. She wanted Snow White not only to die, but to die in a glade in the forest, stabbed by The Huntsman. The Queen exercised uncontested power within the castle, and with her magic, she could have killed Snow White easily and without repercussion. Yet, The Queen wanted to kill Snow White not out of jealousy, but to violate the very imagery of the forest glade, and the symbols of feminine innocence associated with Snow White, such as the flower. The execution is a spectacle, and one with a very limited audience: Herself, The Huntsman, and—The Magic Mirror.
The audience knows that The Queen has access to The Magic Mirror. Why, then, does The Queen order The Huntsman to bring Snow White’s heart in a box? The only compelling explanation is that The Queen ordered The Huntsman to kill Snow White not only to kill Snow White, but to bring about some manipulate some sort of influence on The Huntsman and The Magic Mirror (this begs the question of who these characters are, and what they represent not only to the audience but to The Queen as well, and we will return to this question soon). If The Queen wanted proof of Snow White’s death, she could ask the Magic Mirror. Yet, she does so anyway, after she has received the heart. She even keeps the heart until she talks to The Magic Mirror. Yet, she accepts the word of The Magic Mirror over the evidence of the heart she holds in a box. The Queen ordered The Huntsman to put Snow White’s heart in a box not as proof of death, but for the sake of having Snow White’s heart in a box, and as a way to spite the Magic Mirror.
The appeal of the heart in a box returns to the plot that occurs before the beginning of the film: The Queen’s forcing Snow White to work as a servant. When we first see her, Snow White is “garbed in rags.” When the Magic Mirror says, “Rags cannot hide her gentle grace,” what the Magic Mirror conveys to The Queen is that her attempts to mask, to compartmentalize Snow White’s beauty has failed. The task of The Huntsman, then, is to fulfill The Queen’s original plot: to compartmentalize Snow White. The other possibility, not mutually exclusive with the first desire, is to defy the judgment of the Magic Mirror.
The Mirror is more than just a mirror, it is a Magic Mirror, capable of replicating the same experience the audience receives with film. Yet, more than that, it might also be something hidden, and something displaced. The Magic Mirror is the voice of the missing King.
The Magic Mirror is located within The Queen’s bedchamber and is the only human figure other than the Huntsman that appears in a closed domestic space with The Queen. If one includes information stricken from the film by censors, we also know that The Queen is not the original Queen. She is a replacement, and the daughter of the king is not of her blood. We do not know much about The Queen’s relationship with the King either from the original fable or from the film, yet it seems that to become Queen, The Queen was judged almost solely on beauty. So, when it is the duty of The Magic Mirror to judge The Queen’s beauty, and is represented as the sole male figure in the bedroom, this implies that The Magic Mirror judges not only The Queen’s beauty, but her legitimacy as Queen.
When critics argues that Snow White is a sexist film, and seek to include The Queen in their interpretation, they point to her as a symbol of crazed vanity. After all, she is a woman who spends most of the movie staring into a mirror. (Instead of “Magic” think of the mirror as a “Crazy Mirror.” When The Queen looks into a mirror, she does not see herself. She sees Snow White, with a male voice saying: this is the fairest woman in the land. Identity issues, anyone?)
The “madness” of The Queen comes very explicitly from the Magic Mirror: when The Queen tries to see herself, she cannot. Instead, her perception of herself is mediated by the voice of the king; a king with a child from a former marriage. When the king, or the mirror, asserts that Snow White is “fairer” than The Queen, he is in some regard negating the very essence of The Queen. The Queen is not queen if the king still loves his dead wife, and their child, more than her. Yet, the madness of the Magic Mirror extends even beyond that. When The Queen looks at the mirror, she does not see nothing—she sees a male disembodied face. In a metaphysical sense, the mirror accurately represents The Queen from the perspective of The King’s. She is an intangible non-person, who can only speak with the voice of a man (the king). (Remember that The Slave in The Magic Mirror can still be interpreted as The Queen’s reflection.) The Queen has no purpose, because the previous wife has already provided a spawn, and the king is the sole voice of authority. She has no body because she has no direct power. She speaks with the voice of a man, because men are the only ones capable of being represented. That the mirror, then, asserts that Snow White is more beautiful is a crushing blow: the identity of The Queen is crushed by her sole means of mediation, and the king has admitted to finding his daughter as the most beautiful woman in the realm. The vengeance The Queen is not just out of vanity; it is revenge, for the king’s infidelity of voyeurism.
The betrayal of the Huntsmen, then, finally is the ultimate reaffirmation of the Magic Mirror, and it is he that levels the criticism that most accept without question. “She’s mad!” the Huntsman says, “Jealous of you [Snow White]! She’ll stop at nothing!” The first accusation is perhaps the most significant; the huntsman responds to The Queen’s desire to compartmentalize Snow White by then verbally compartmentalizing her under the category “mad.” The next, however is more informative: The Huntsman has no reason to believe that The Queen is jealous, unless he himself agrees with the Magic Mirror that Snow White truly is more beautiful, as the Magic Mirror contended. The Queen no doubt chose The Huntsman precisely because of his masculinity; his masculinity being reproduced by the dagger he wields. (The Huntsman has a very small phallic object…) The Queen wanted to destroy the appearance of Snow White’s virginal beauty by removing her status as virgin.
The Huntsman’s betrayal shows that The Queen never really had power. The Magic Mirror really is always right, especially in regard to beauty. The Queen has no power, neither as woman—since Snow White is more beautiful—nor as Queen—since The King outweighs her. If this is the case, then the madness of the Queen is that she asked the Huntsman at all. Since the Mirror is always right, she should have known she has no power.
When the Queen tries to kill Snow White again, she will not attempt to rely on her beauty to kill her—she knows that, so long as the Magic Mirror asserts that Snow White is more beautiful, she cannot work within the power structure already in place to reject the Magic Mirror’s assertion of beauty. Instead, she can only displace her rage by putting on the façade of something The Magic Mirror would characterize as ugly.
The Queen concocts a formula to:
transform my beauty into ugliness. Change my queenly raiment to a peddler’s cloak. Mummy dust, to make me old. To shroud my clothes, the black of night. To age my voice, an old hag’s cackle. To whiten my hair, a scream of fright. A blast of wind to fan my hate. A thunderbolt to mix it well. Now, begin thy magic spell.
Here the underpinnings of beauty come to the forefront. Clearly, the two most important facets of the transformation are clothing (indicative of status/wealth), and age. In the world of Snow White, age and ugliness are interchangeable, as evidenced by three of the ingredients being directly tied to age: the mummy dust, the old hag’s cackle, and a scream of fright, all transforming her to look old. Yet, the clothing is also quite notable, especially considering how the mirror stated in the beginning that clothing could not hide beauty. Yet, of them all, perhaps the most perplexing is the “blast of wind” to “fan my hate.” If the Queen is truly mad with jealousy and rage, there should be no reason for her hate to be insufficient.
What’s the point of this disguise? The dwarfs, after all, do not need an explanation that it is really The Queen beneath the disguise. There are only two figures that will ever see this disguise: Snow White, and The Magic Mirror. From the pragmatic perspective, the purpose of the disguise is to deceive Snow White. But once again, why the blast of wind? That would not help at all in deceiving Snow White. Instead, the fan of hate marks this disguise as not even wholly for Snow White’s sake: the fan of hate is only there to play into the sentiments of the male figures, of the Huntsman, the Dwarfs, and the Magic Mirror, because it is them that view her as hateful. And through The Magic Mirror, so too will the camera view her as hateful.
This transformation, partly to deceive Snow White, but partly to parody the Magic Mirror, is compounded and exaggerated in the object the Queen chooses to poison Snow White: the apple. Like the inclusion of the box, the flowers, and the forest glade in her orders to The Huntsman, the choice of the apple is more significant than merely as the instrument of murder. This significance is more easily explained if one takes into account the fable version of Snow White. The fable version follows the same basic arc, of Snow White’s expulsion, her hiding with the dwarfs, her biting the apple, and being kissed by the Prince. But the fable version includes two murder attempts directly preceding the use of the apple. First, the Queen appears and uses stay-laces to bind Snow White so that she cannot breathe, and when that does not succeed, she uses a poisoned comb. The symbolism here could not be more direct: The Queen is literally trying to suffocate Snow White with a symbol of “feminine beauty” in the case of the laces. When she poisons Snow White with the comb, she even remarks that Snow White is a “model of beauty.” Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar in The Madwoman in the Attic discuss these images for precisely what they are, arguing, “the comb, stay-laces, and apple which the Queen in ‘Little Snow White’ uses as weapons against her hated stepdaughter… simply carry the patriarchal definitions of ‘femininity’ to absurd extremes, and thus function as essential or at least inescapable parodies of social prescriptions.” Although Gilbert and Gubar speak in regard to the fable version, their analysis is no less accurate in regard to the movie version.
Toward the beginning of the film, Snow White stands by a well and sings, “We are standing by a wishing well / Make a wish into the well / that’s all you have to do / And if you hear it echoing / Your wish will soon come true.” While she sings this, the camera moves away and watches a Prince, drawn by her singing, climb a fence and stand next to her. However, for Snow White, it appears that the echo of the well was what allowed her to meet Prince Charming. Afraid both of his sexuality and his dreamlike appearance, she retreats to her room. This is the only scene in which the camera records the Queen watching Snow White, and it is precisely this scene that the Queen chooses to parody when she seeks to destroy Snow White. The Queen says, “It’s apple pies that make the menfolks’ mouths water. Pies made from apples like these.” And later, “And since you’ve been so good to poor old Granny, I’ll share a secret with you. This is no ordinary apple. It’s a magic wishing apple… Yes. One bite, and all your dreams will come true.” The Queen seeks to not only destroy Snow White, but all she represents: including her desire to have her dreams magically fulfilled. Further, in the context of the fable, this scene allows the Queen to attack the final facet of Snow White’s appearance that demarcates her as “beautiful.” The three descriptions the Magic Mirror uses at the beginning of the film pertain to Snow White’s black hair, her red lips, and her white skin. The Queen’s choice of objects includes a comb for her hair, lace for her skin, and an apple for her lips. The comb, which in the fable shapes her naturally beautiful hair to the “latest style,” and the lace the Queen does “properly for once”. The apple, however, is the most significant: first, it parodies the “wishing” dreams of Snow White from the beginning of the film which no doubt reflect the “gentle grace” the Mirror remarks upon, the physical description of Snow White, and finally, as a parody of the myth of Original Sin. (If this last bit sounds absurd, bare in mind that both the tellers of fables in the 1800s and even American audiences in the early 20th century held Original Sin with much more significance than modern audiences might.)
In reproducing the narrative of Original Sin, The Queen becomes the Snake, or Satan (if one is going off Milton’s version). Like Satan, The Queen undergoes a transformation to provide a disguise. Like Satan, the only person to see this disguise is the recipient of the apple. Like Eve, it is Snow White’s innocence that allows her to be tricked. Both apples essentially have the same result: Eve, and all of womankind, must confront her sexuality as a result of eating the apple, and become clothed. Snow White, eating the apple, must forsake her fear of Prince Charming. The historical Christian argument has always been that it is because of woman’s biting the apple that facilitated humanity’s fall from Eden. All this imagery, The Queen co-opts in her plot to destroy Snow White. Eve could be said to be the prototypical virgin, and the epitome of innocence. The previous imagery that the Queen attacks, with the flowers and the forest glade, all evoke the Eden that Eve supposedly lost. Now, however, what is resulting in the fall—or rather, what is resulting in The Queen’s fall—is Snow White’s new innocence, and complete unabashed willingness to commit herself wholly to the masculine prescriptions for femininity. What the Queen ultimately parodies through the apple is the “gentle grace” that the Magic Mirror finds so attractive; what in other words, amounts for The Queen, as mere feminine dormancy in the wake of masculine power.
Ironically, Snow White’s bite of the apple does allow Snow White’s dreams to come true: when she awakes, The Queen is dead, and she has become Prince Charming’s lover. All the sacrifice needed was the loss of absolutely everything, including her voice and consciousness. In other words, all that was required to be Prince Charming’s lover is to become a completely dormant woman. Prince Charming functions within the film to confirm the notion of beauty asserted by the Magic Mirror. Yet, as the antithesis of the Magic Mirror, he also obliterates it. He has a body where the Magic Mirror is bodiless, and he is a Prince while the Magic Mirror is a slave. Yet both share precisely the same views of beauty. In doing so, he embodies the Magic Mirror’s thoughts. The movie begins with the Queen calling forth the Magic Mirror and demanding an assessment of female beauty and identity, and that assessment is given: it is Snow White. The film ends with the ultimate reaffirmation of this assessment. Prince Charming kisses Snow White, the masculine voice of judgment is upheld, and identity continues to be determined by image.
When The Queen looks into a mirror, she does not see herself. Despite this, she is often regarded as narcissistic. Not only narcissistic, The Queen is remarked upon as “mad,” “jealous” and homicidal (this last one being undeniably true, despite the problematic implications of the first two). Yet the film never directly explains the madness of the Queen. She is mad because she is violent and she is violent because she is mad. No consistent explanation is offered as to why the Queen demands Snow White’s heart in a box. No convincing explanation is given for her transformation into an old woman. No meaningful explanation is given for the choice of the apple. And the entailments of the apple as a choice are completely ignored. The film’s neglect of explanation leaves the audience with no voice other than that of The Magic Mirror, a figure whose awakening births the movie, and of which the antithesis—Prince Charming—removes from the screen entirely. Even from this view, however, and especially with the help of the fable, one can see that what is asserted as uncontested truth in reality is merely an argument, and although we perhaps still are not sympathetic to the murderous intentions of the Queen, we nevertheless do not have to regard her strictly as “mad,” and although she may be jealous, that jealousy no doubt is facilitated by the warped reflection she sees when she looks in a mirror. The Queen may not know that she is within a movie, and certainly is unaware of how the film operates the same as The Magic Mirror, but nevertheless by rebelling against the mediation of the mirror, she also is rebelling against the camera itself. This is the real heart of her madness; her unwillingness to be a moderated woman, the mediated woman, the figure that Disney, and perhaps the audience, regard as beautiful. Instead, if she cannot win a beauty contest, then she will assert her power through the only means she has: by choosing to gain control of her own appearance, and to reject and parody the Mirror’s conception of beauty. In a warped way, she may have even been successful. She made the top 20 of AFI’s “Top 100 Villains of all Time” list, whereas Snow White does not even make Top Heroes list at all. Most criticism that praises Snow White does not focus on Snow White or the Queen, but on the Dwarfs—those figures who manage to be distinctive despite their stereotypes. Snow White may be lumped together with the other “Disney Princesses,” but the Queen has been a favorite of artists other than Disney. In Annie Hall, Woody Allen entertains romantic fantasies with the Queen—perhaps expressing something resembling a backlash to her character—but nevertheless capturing the absurdity of her characterization. “You’re just upset,” Woody Allen’s character says, “You must be getting your period.” The “Wicked” Queen responds, “I don’t get a period. I’m a cartoon character.”
Or: Who Would Listen to a Magic Mirror?
December 16, 2007
Revised from April 28, 2007
Convinced that it would fail, the Hollywood film industry labeled Snow White "Disney's Folly". When it was finally released, it held the title of “highest grossing film of all time” until the release of “Gone With The Wind” a year later. It was the first full-length animated feature film to come out of the United States. When the DVD hit stores in 2001, more than 1 million copies were sold on its first day.
Considering how much production cost (Disney had to mortgage his house to finish production), it’s amazing how many scenes were cut for its theatrical release. Some cuts were due to censorship, such as the opening with Snow White’s mother. But even with such cuts, when the film opened at New York City’s Radio City Music Hall, all the velvet seat upholstery had to be replaced. Young children were so frightened of the sequence with Snow White lost in the forest that they wet their pants.
Snow White established the franchise that persists today: the Disney Princesses. AFI ranked The Queen #10 in its list of top 50 villains of all time (Snow White didn’t even make the top 50 heroes). The Dwarves, Dopey in particular, have been one of the most visible icons at Disneyland for years.
Even before Disney remade it, Snow White was one of the most celebrated fables of Europe. Its origin might even go back to The Middle Ages.
What made this story so popular? Why has it survived over the years? And what does it mean today, in its current incarnation as film? In asking these questions, I am led to ask more specific questions about the entailments from certain incongruities in the film, and led to question most of all the representation of The Queen. Why is she so mad—and why on earth is she talking to a Magic Mirror?
Lets start with The Dwarves:
In the original Grimm fairytale of “Snow White,” the dwarfs were not named. Early drafts of the Disney version included an extensive list of possible names. But, as Walter Brasch in Cartoon Monickers explains, “the final list included only descriptive names: Awful, Bashful, Biggo-Ego… Grumpy, Happy… Sleepy, Snappy, Sneezy, Sneezy-Wheezy, Snoopy.” Dopey and Doc were added later. The directors named Doc after they developed him as “The guy who was aggressive and liable to take leadership… He ended up being called ‘Doc.’ I suppose that would stem from the fact that a doctor is somebody who is supposed to be able to point the direction.” Brasch attributes these choices to Disney’s ingenuity. Yet, Brasch both fails to capture why the dwarfs were so appealing to American audiences, and completely ignores the fact that the characters in the original fable, Snow White, The Huntsman, and The Queen, were all also descriptively named.
Now we move on to the intricate relationship between The Magic Mirror and The Queen. At the onset of the movie, The Queen asks, “Magic mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” The question, with its alliteration and rhyme, is probably the most famous line of the movie. Yet the answer is often forgotten, despite its significance: “Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But hold, a lovely maid I see. Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee.” Notice what we learn about the mirror from this line. Not only is the mirror capable of noticing beauty, but also it holds the capacity to see subjects who are not present. Just as a camera captures and image and reproduces it on film, so is the Magic Mirror capable of reproducing the image of someone far away. When The Queen demands “Reveal her name.” The Mirror responds, “Lips red as the rose. Hair black as ebony. Skin white as snow.” To which The Queen exclaims, “Snow White!” The Mirror, like the camera, cannot name the character it sees—like the camera, it is only capable of showing that information. But in the world of Disney’s Snow White, with its descriptive names, that is all that is necessary.
There is something else only hinted at in this scene. What is the real cause of Snow White’s “gentle grace” that “rags cannot hide?” Is it her “lips red as the rose. Hair black as ebony. [And] skin white as snow.” How “deep” can this mirror really see? Can it penetrate her soul, or merely her clothes?
There is something else, too, in the elaborate plan The Queen sets up to kill Snow White. Her plot involves more than simple murder. It is an assault upon the images and symbols of feminine beauty associated with Snow White. “Take her far into the forest,” The Queen orders The Huntsman, “Find some secluded glade where she can pick wildflowers… and there, my faithful huntsman, you will kill her!” The Queen is a Queen, why must she hide this execution? Why must it be secluded? Who is she hiding it from?
Really, we see very few people in Snow White. We do not know the intricate familial relations that put Snow White at the mercy of The Queen. Yet, in this instance, the question begged is: Where is The King? Why would he allow Snow White to be transformed into a servant preceding the beginning if he lives, and who is The Queen hiding Snow White’s murder from if he doesn’t?
I can think of two possible reasons The Queen wanted to kill Snow White in the glade that does not involve hiding from the King. First, it is possible that The Queen wanted to hide Snow White’s death from herself. This, however, is unsatisfactory. After all, she has very little hesitation in trying to kill Snow White later.
The second possibility is that The Queen was not trying to hide Snow White’s death from anyone. Instead, The Queen did not merely want Snow White to die. She wanted Snow White not only to die, but to die in a glade in the forest, stabbed by The Huntsman. The Queen exercised uncontested power within the castle, and with her magic, she could have killed Snow White easily and without repercussion. Yet, The Queen wanted to kill Snow White not out of jealousy, but to violate the very imagery of the forest glade, and the symbols of feminine innocence associated with Snow White, such as the flower. The execution is a spectacle, and one with a very limited audience: Herself, The Huntsman, and—The Magic Mirror.
The audience knows that The Queen has access to The Magic Mirror. Why, then, does The Queen order The Huntsman to bring Snow White’s heart in a box? The only compelling explanation is that The Queen ordered The Huntsman to kill Snow White not only to kill Snow White, but to bring about some manipulate some sort of influence on The Huntsman and The Magic Mirror (this begs the question of who these characters are, and what they represent not only to the audience but to The Queen as well, and we will return to this question soon). If The Queen wanted proof of Snow White’s death, she could ask the Magic Mirror. Yet, she does so anyway, after she has received the heart. She even keeps the heart until she talks to The Magic Mirror. Yet, she accepts the word of The Magic Mirror over the evidence of the heart she holds in a box. The Queen ordered The Huntsman to put Snow White’s heart in a box not as proof of death, but for the sake of having Snow White’s heart in a box, and as a way to spite the Magic Mirror.
The appeal of the heart in a box returns to the plot that occurs before the beginning of the film: The Queen’s forcing Snow White to work as a servant. When we first see her, Snow White is “garbed in rags.” When the Magic Mirror says, “Rags cannot hide her gentle grace,” what the Magic Mirror conveys to The Queen is that her attempts to mask, to compartmentalize Snow White’s beauty has failed. The task of The Huntsman, then, is to fulfill The Queen’s original plot: to compartmentalize Snow White. The other possibility, not mutually exclusive with the first desire, is to defy the judgment of the Magic Mirror.
The Mirror is more than just a mirror, it is a Magic Mirror, capable of replicating the same experience the audience receives with film. Yet, more than that, it might also be something hidden, and something displaced. The Magic Mirror is the voice of the missing King.
The Magic Mirror is located within The Queen’s bedchamber and is the only human figure other than the Huntsman that appears in a closed domestic space with The Queen. If one includes information stricken from the film by censors, we also know that The Queen is not the original Queen. She is a replacement, and the daughter of the king is not of her blood. We do not know much about The Queen’s relationship with the King either from the original fable or from the film, yet it seems that to become Queen, The Queen was judged almost solely on beauty. So, when it is the duty of The Magic Mirror to judge The Queen’s beauty, and is represented as the sole male figure in the bedroom, this implies that The Magic Mirror judges not only The Queen’s beauty, but her legitimacy as Queen.
When critics argues that Snow White is a sexist film, and seek to include The Queen in their interpretation, they point to her as a symbol of crazed vanity. After all, she is a woman who spends most of the movie staring into a mirror. (Instead of “Magic” think of the mirror as a “Crazy Mirror.” When The Queen looks into a mirror, she does not see herself. She sees Snow White, with a male voice saying: this is the fairest woman in the land. Identity issues, anyone?)
The “madness” of The Queen comes very explicitly from the Magic Mirror: when The Queen tries to see herself, she cannot. Instead, her perception of herself is mediated by the voice of the king; a king with a child from a former marriage. When the king, or the mirror, asserts that Snow White is “fairer” than The Queen, he is in some regard negating the very essence of The Queen. The Queen is not queen if the king still loves his dead wife, and their child, more than her. Yet, the madness of the Magic Mirror extends even beyond that. When The Queen looks at the mirror, she does not see nothing—she sees a male disembodied face. In a metaphysical sense, the mirror accurately represents The Queen from the perspective of The King’s. She is an intangible non-person, who can only speak with the voice of a man (the king). (Remember that The Slave in The Magic Mirror can still be interpreted as The Queen’s reflection.) The Queen has no purpose, because the previous wife has already provided a spawn, and the king is the sole voice of authority. She has no body because she has no direct power. She speaks with the voice of a man, because men are the only ones capable of being represented. That the mirror, then, asserts that Snow White is more beautiful is a crushing blow: the identity of The Queen is crushed by her sole means of mediation, and the king has admitted to finding his daughter as the most beautiful woman in the realm. The vengeance The Queen is not just out of vanity; it is revenge, for the king’s infidelity of voyeurism.
The betrayal of the Huntsmen, then, finally is the ultimate reaffirmation of the Magic Mirror, and it is he that levels the criticism that most accept without question. “She’s mad!” the Huntsman says, “Jealous of you [Snow White]! She’ll stop at nothing!” The first accusation is perhaps the most significant; the huntsman responds to The Queen’s desire to compartmentalize Snow White by then verbally compartmentalizing her under the category “mad.” The next, however is more informative: The Huntsman has no reason to believe that The Queen is jealous, unless he himself agrees with the Magic Mirror that Snow White truly is more beautiful, as the Magic Mirror contended. The Queen no doubt chose The Huntsman precisely because of his masculinity; his masculinity being reproduced by the dagger he wields. (The Huntsman has a very small phallic object…) The Queen wanted to destroy the appearance of Snow White’s virginal beauty by removing her status as virgin.
The Huntsman’s betrayal shows that The Queen never really had power. The Magic Mirror really is always right, especially in regard to beauty. The Queen has no power, neither as woman—since Snow White is more beautiful—nor as Queen—since The King outweighs her. If this is the case, then the madness of the Queen is that she asked the Huntsman at all. Since the Mirror is always right, she should have known she has no power.
When the Queen tries to kill Snow White again, she will not attempt to rely on her beauty to kill her—she knows that, so long as the Magic Mirror asserts that Snow White is more beautiful, she cannot work within the power structure already in place to reject the Magic Mirror’s assertion of beauty. Instead, she can only displace her rage by putting on the façade of something The Magic Mirror would characterize as ugly.
The Queen concocts a formula to:
transform my beauty into ugliness. Change my queenly raiment to a peddler’s cloak. Mummy dust, to make me old. To shroud my clothes, the black of night. To age my voice, an old hag’s cackle. To whiten my hair, a scream of fright. A blast of wind to fan my hate. A thunderbolt to mix it well. Now, begin thy magic spell.
Here the underpinnings of beauty come to the forefront. Clearly, the two most important facets of the transformation are clothing (indicative of status/wealth), and age. In the world of Snow White, age and ugliness are interchangeable, as evidenced by three of the ingredients being directly tied to age: the mummy dust, the old hag’s cackle, and a scream of fright, all transforming her to look old. Yet, the clothing is also quite notable, especially considering how the mirror stated in the beginning that clothing could not hide beauty. Yet, of them all, perhaps the most perplexing is the “blast of wind” to “fan my hate.” If the Queen is truly mad with jealousy and rage, there should be no reason for her hate to be insufficient.
What’s the point of this disguise? The dwarfs, after all, do not need an explanation that it is really The Queen beneath the disguise. There are only two figures that will ever see this disguise: Snow White, and The Magic Mirror. From the pragmatic perspective, the purpose of the disguise is to deceive Snow White. But once again, why the blast of wind? That would not help at all in deceiving Snow White. Instead, the fan of hate marks this disguise as not even wholly for Snow White’s sake: the fan of hate is only there to play into the sentiments of the male figures, of the Huntsman, the Dwarfs, and the Magic Mirror, because it is them that view her as hateful. And through The Magic Mirror, so too will the camera view her as hateful.
This transformation, partly to deceive Snow White, but partly to parody the Magic Mirror, is compounded and exaggerated in the object the Queen chooses to poison Snow White: the apple. Like the inclusion of the box, the flowers, and the forest glade in her orders to The Huntsman, the choice of the apple is more significant than merely as the instrument of murder. This significance is more easily explained if one takes into account the fable version of Snow White. The fable version follows the same basic arc, of Snow White’s expulsion, her hiding with the dwarfs, her biting the apple, and being kissed by the Prince. But the fable version includes two murder attempts directly preceding the use of the apple. First, the Queen appears and uses stay-laces to bind Snow White so that she cannot breathe, and when that does not succeed, she uses a poisoned comb. The symbolism here could not be more direct: The Queen is literally trying to suffocate Snow White with a symbol of “feminine beauty” in the case of the laces. When she poisons Snow White with the comb, she even remarks that Snow White is a “model of beauty.” Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar in The Madwoman in the Attic discuss these images for precisely what they are, arguing, “the comb, stay-laces, and apple which the Queen in ‘Little Snow White’ uses as weapons against her hated stepdaughter… simply carry the patriarchal definitions of ‘femininity’ to absurd extremes, and thus function as essential or at least inescapable parodies of social prescriptions.” Although Gilbert and Gubar speak in regard to the fable version, their analysis is no less accurate in regard to the movie version.
Toward the beginning of the film, Snow White stands by a well and sings, “We are standing by a wishing well / Make a wish into the well / that’s all you have to do / And if you hear it echoing / Your wish will soon come true.” While she sings this, the camera moves away and watches a Prince, drawn by her singing, climb a fence and stand next to her. However, for Snow White, it appears that the echo of the well was what allowed her to meet Prince Charming. Afraid both of his sexuality and his dreamlike appearance, she retreats to her room. This is the only scene in which the camera records the Queen watching Snow White, and it is precisely this scene that the Queen chooses to parody when she seeks to destroy Snow White. The Queen says, “It’s apple pies that make the menfolks’ mouths water. Pies made from apples like these.” And later, “And since you’ve been so good to poor old Granny, I’ll share a secret with you. This is no ordinary apple. It’s a magic wishing apple… Yes. One bite, and all your dreams will come true.” The Queen seeks to not only destroy Snow White, but all she represents: including her desire to have her dreams magically fulfilled. Further, in the context of the fable, this scene allows the Queen to attack the final facet of Snow White’s appearance that demarcates her as “beautiful.” The three descriptions the Magic Mirror uses at the beginning of the film pertain to Snow White’s black hair, her red lips, and her white skin. The Queen’s choice of objects includes a comb for her hair, lace for her skin, and an apple for her lips. The comb, which in the fable shapes her naturally beautiful hair to the “latest style,” and the lace the Queen does “properly for once”. The apple, however, is the most significant: first, it parodies the “wishing” dreams of Snow White from the beginning of the film which no doubt reflect the “gentle grace” the Mirror remarks upon, the physical description of Snow White, and finally, as a parody of the myth of Original Sin. (If this last bit sounds absurd, bare in mind that both the tellers of fables in the 1800s and even American audiences in the early 20th century held Original Sin with much more significance than modern audiences might.)
In reproducing the narrative of Original Sin, The Queen becomes the Snake, or Satan (if one is going off Milton’s version). Like Satan, The Queen undergoes a transformation to provide a disguise. Like Satan, the only person to see this disguise is the recipient of the apple. Like Eve, it is Snow White’s innocence that allows her to be tricked. Both apples essentially have the same result: Eve, and all of womankind, must confront her sexuality as a result of eating the apple, and become clothed. Snow White, eating the apple, must forsake her fear of Prince Charming. The historical Christian argument has always been that it is because of woman’s biting the apple that facilitated humanity’s fall from Eden. All this imagery, The Queen co-opts in her plot to destroy Snow White. Eve could be said to be the prototypical virgin, and the epitome of innocence. The previous imagery that the Queen attacks, with the flowers and the forest glade, all evoke the Eden that Eve supposedly lost. Now, however, what is resulting in the fall—or rather, what is resulting in The Queen’s fall—is Snow White’s new innocence, and complete unabashed willingness to commit herself wholly to the masculine prescriptions for femininity. What the Queen ultimately parodies through the apple is the “gentle grace” that the Magic Mirror finds so attractive; what in other words, amounts for The Queen, as mere feminine dormancy in the wake of masculine power.
Ironically, Snow White’s bite of the apple does allow Snow White’s dreams to come true: when she awakes, The Queen is dead, and she has become Prince Charming’s lover. All the sacrifice needed was the loss of absolutely everything, including her voice and consciousness. In other words, all that was required to be Prince Charming’s lover is to become a completely dormant woman. Prince Charming functions within the film to confirm the notion of beauty asserted by the Magic Mirror. Yet, as the antithesis of the Magic Mirror, he also obliterates it. He has a body where the Magic Mirror is bodiless, and he is a Prince while the Magic Mirror is a slave. Yet both share precisely the same views of beauty. In doing so, he embodies the Magic Mirror’s thoughts. The movie begins with the Queen calling forth the Magic Mirror and demanding an assessment of female beauty and identity, and that assessment is given: it is Snow White. The film ends with the ultimate reaffirmation of this assessment. Prince Charming kisses Snow White, the masculine voice of judgment is upheld, and identity continues to be determined by image.
When The Queen looks into a mirror, she does not see herself. Despite this, she is often regarded as narcissistic. Not only narcissistic, The Queen is remarked upon as “mad,” “jealous” and homicidal (this last one being undeniably true, despite the problematic implications of the first two). Yet the film never directly explains the madness of the Queen. She is mad because she is violent and she is violent because she is mad. No consistent explanation is offered as to why the Queen demands Snow White’s heart in a box. No convincing explanation is given for her transformation into an old woman. No meaningful explanation is given for the choice of the apple. And the entailments of the apple as a choice are completely ignored. The film’s neglect of explanation leaves the audience with no voice other than that of The Magic Mirror, a figure whose awakening births the movie, and of which the antithesis—Prince Charming—removes from the screen entirely. Even from this view, however, and especially with the help of the fable, one can see that what is asserted as uncontested truth in reality is merely an argument, and although we perhaps still are not sympathetic to the murderous intentions of the Queen, we nevertheless do not have to regard her strictly as “mad,” and although she may be jealous, that jealousy no doubt is facilitated by the warped reflection she sees when she looks in a mirror. The Queen may not know that she is within a movie, and certainly is unaware of how the film operates the same as The Magic Mirror, but nevertheless by rebelling against the mediation of the mirror, she also is rebelling against the camera itself. This is the real heart of her madness; her unwillingness to be a moderated woman, the mediated woman, the figure that Disney, and perhaps the audience, regard as beautiful. Instead, if she cannot win a beauty contest, then she will assert her power through the only means she has: by choosing to gain control of her own appearance, and to reject and parody the Mirror’s conception of beauty. In a warped way, she may have even been successful. She made the top 20 of AFI’s “Top 100 Villains of all Time” list, whereas Snow White does not even make Top Heroes list at all. Most criticism that praises Snow White does not focus on Snow White or the Queen, but on the Dwarfs—those figures who manage to be distinctive despite their stereotypes. Snow White may be lumped together with the other “Disney Princesses,” but the Queen has been a favorite of artists other than Disney. In Annie Hall, Woody Allen entertains romantic fantasies with the Queen—perhaps expressing something resembling a backlash to her character—but nevertheless capturing the absurdity of her characterization. “You’re just upset,” Woody Allen’s character says, “You must be getting your period.” The “Wicked” Queen responds, “I don’t get a period. I’m a cartoon character.”
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Why Does God Kill Children?
When God Forsakes His Own
Or: God Felt Like Killing Your Children Today
December 15, 2007
Revised from a draft written on October 12, 2005
Mary Rowlandson’s The Grace and Glory of God tells the story of how, after witnessing the murder of her friends, the death of one of her children, and suffering starvation and depression, she is finally ransomed back to her husband for the cost of twenty pounds. How did she reconcile her traumatic experiences with her devout faith? Perhaps her husband can explain.
Following her return to her colony, on November 21, 1678, her husband, Joseph Rowlandson, gave a sermon entitled “The Possibility of God’s Forsaking a people”. The preface to Joseph’s sermon argues that, “As God’s presence is the greatest glory to a People on this side of Heaven, so his absence is the greatest misery on this side hell.” Why would God ever condemn man to this hell?
Well, as Joseph tells it, “When God forsakes his own, yet they cry after him, he withdraws himself from them sometimes.” Now it all makes sense. No, but really, Joseph asks, “why doth the Lord forsake such a People?” Well, Joseph is happy enough to provide “The Reasons” to his own rhetorical question.
“To Shew that he hath no need of any, he hath forsaken many, and may forsake many more, to shew that he hath no need of any. God would have all the world to take notice, (that though all men have need of him, yet) he hath no need of any man.” In other words, God forsakes man to show that God don’t need no one. God’s an independent man. You need God, God doesn’t need you.
“To testifie his Sanctity, and severity against sin. He will not spare them, that have been near him, if they will not spare their sins for him. He will not spare them, that have been near him, if they will not spare their sin for him.” God doesn’t need you, and if you don’t do what God tells you to do, he’ll up and blow town. In other words, “Do what I tell ya, OR ELSE.” Maybe God enjoys ordering people around?
“To be a warning to all that enjoy his gracious presence. That they see that they make much of it, and that they take heed that they do not sin against him, and forsake him, and provoke him to forsake them also.” Basically, if you like God, then you better enjoy him while you have him, because if you don’t love God enough, he’s outta here. Going, going, gone!
God will forsake you if you sin. Why is there injustice? Why do the Others come for you, kill your children, steal you from your home, and starve you? Because God felt like reminding you that no matter where you are, no matterwho you are, he might forsake you just to prove that he can. Even in spite of, or perhaps especially if, you love him.
Or: God Felt Like Killing Your Children Today
December 15, 2007
Revised from a draft written on October 12, 2005
Mary Rowlandson’s The Grace and Glory of God tells the story of how, after witnessing the murder of her friends, the death of one of her children, and suffering starvation and depression, she is finally ransomed back to her husband for the cost of twenty pounds. How did she reconcile her traumatic experiences with her devout faith? Perhaps her husband can explain.
Following her return to her colony, on November 21, 1678, her husband, Joseph Rowlandson, gave a sermon entitled “The Possibility of God’s Forsaking a people”. The preface to Joseph’s sermon argues that, “As God’s presence is the greatest glory to a People on this side of Heaven, so his absence is the greatest misery on this side hell.” Why would God ever condemn man to this hell?
Well, as Joseph tells it, “When God forsakes his own, yet they cry after him, he withdraws himself from them sometimes.” Now it all makes sense. No, but really, Joseph asks, “why doth the Lord forsake such a People?” Well, Joseph is happy enough to provide “The Reasons” to his own rhetorical question.
“To Shew that he hath no need of any, he hath forsaken many, and may forsake many more, to shew that he hath no need of any. God would have all the world to take notice, (that though all men have need of him, yet) he hath no need of any man.” In other words, God forsakes man to show that God don’t need no one. God’s an independent man. You need God, God doesn’t need you.
“To testifie his Sanctity, and severity against sin. He will not spare them, that have been near him, if they will not spare their sins for him. He will not spare them, that have been near him, if they will not spare their sin for him.” God doesn’t need you, and if you don’t do what God tells you to do, he’ll up and blow town. In other words, “Do what I tell ya, OR ELSE.” Maybe God enjoys ordering people around?
“To be a warning to all that enjoy his gracious presence. That they see that they make much of it, and that they take heed that they do not sin against him, and forsake him, and provoke him to forsake them also.” Basically, if you like God, then you better enjoy him while you have him, because if you don’t love God enough, he’s outta here. Going, going, gone!
God will forsake you if you sin. Why is there injustice? Why do the Others come for you, kill your children, steal you from your home, and starve you? Because God felt like reminding you that no matter where you are, no matterwho you are, he might forsake you just to prove that he can. Even in spite of, or perhaps especially if, you love him.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Truth, Justice, Cosmogony, & Belief Part 1
The Freak Show
Or: Are Black Women Really Apes?
December 9, 2007
Through the 19th century, carnivals put on the freak show. We only recently have evidence as to what real disease Joseph Merrick, or “The Elephant Man,” had. It was Proteus syndrome, named for the shape-shifting god Proteus. As for Saartjie Baartman, “The Venus Hottentot”, she had a condition known as steatopygia, and a sinus pudoris. The steatopygia enlarged her buttocks. As for the sinus pudoris, or enlongated labia, that wasn’t really a disease. It was merely an unusual genetic trait.
But what name do we give the disease of the spectators who paid to gaze at each of them? What name do we give those who paid extra to reach out and touch Saartjie Baartman’s enlarged buttocks? When Saartjie Baartman dies in Paris, Georges Cuvier compared her anatomy to that of an ape. Although he might have regarded as an intelligent woman who spoke Dutch fluently, he concluded she had an apish character due to her thick lips.
Cuvier was not an extraodinary case. William Smellie argued that nature “has formed the human species into castes and ranks.” Smellie argued African men and women were closer to apes then white men. Why? Because of what appeared to be the unusual shape of her sexual organs. If you are having difficulty making the link between sexual organs and being an ape, perhaps other great scientists can help clarify. Adrien Sharpy, for instance, believed that “the prostitute is an atavistic form of humanity whose primitive nature can be observed in the form of her genitalia.” In Sharpy’s cosmogony, black women and prostitutes were seen as very similar, a centeral bridge between the natural world and the civilized world. Black women and prostitues together were seen as being more like monkeys and chimpanzees than white bourgeois women. Scientists tried to cement this cosmogonic distinction and structure with experiments and surveys, so that breast size and pelvis shape were both characterized based on race and ethnicity.
But of course everyone knows better now. Just look at the arguments surrounding “The Venus Hottentot” and her return to South Africa. The BBC’s article “’Hottentot Venus’ Goes Home” includes the remark, “The French were concerned that to return Baartman's remains might lead to claims from other countries for return of artefacts held in French museums.” Yes, even today, the remains of Saartjie Baartman remains an “artefact.” What do you think the BBC would say if a white Christian male’s remains were examined by scientists post death, preserved and held on display for a century, and and then eventually asked to be buried by his descendants? Would he too be an artefact? Isn’t Lenin’s head floating around in a glass case somewhere?
Let’s return to Joseph Merrick, in particular Lynch’s adaptation of his story. Joseph (John in
Lynch’s version, reproducing an error going all the way back to Sir Frederick Treves) first goes to Dr. Treves as part of a deal Treves has with Merrick’s canival showman. During this first encounter, the scientific encounter directly mirrors the carnival encounter. In both, Merrick is objectified and regarded as inhuman. To be objectified does not imply that Merrick likes or dislikes the experience of being displayed; his desires are simply regarded as irrelevant. The community is impressed by his deformity. Yet, as the hospital leader points out, they cannot do anything for Joseph Merrick beyond the most superficial level. He is incurable, and thus the scientific community’s interest cannot be regarded as medicinal. Treves displays Merrick explicitly because of his phenomenal value as a biological Other. Once he has been seen and displayed, his value dissappears. Just as in the carnival, he is exploited and his rights as an individual are ignored. The first encounter between Treves and Merrick is not medicine, and is not even science.
However, the second encounter begins to take on a different shape. When Treves and Merrick begin speech therapy, and when Merrick surprises both Treves and the hospital manager with his intelligence, Treves begins to engage with Merrick on a more personal level. Some might argue that this stage too is exploitation. The character of Mothershead remarks that the people who visit him still only come because they “only want to impress their friends!” However, Merrick is capable of talking to the people who come and visit him on his second return to the hospital. To confine Merrick to indefinite confinement would no doubt be a greater error than to grant him sociality even if people still have difficulty accepting his appearance.
The film does differ from reality in many ways, but some conclusions remain the same in either case. The scientific community eventually wanted to help Merrick. This flies in the face of what happened to Baartman. She was dissected; he was cared for. What was the essential difference between them?
What insight Georges Cuvier believed he received from devoting 9 out of 16 pages of his dissection to the topic of her genetilia, one can only speculate at. His claim that, “there is nothing more celebrated in all of natural history” than her genetilia undoubtedly says more about Cuvier, and 19th century science, than Baartman herself.
Which was the freak—the sick man on the stage or the audience watching? Which was subhuman—the black woman or the men paying to poke her ass?
You decide.
Afterword
If you found this article interesting, please add this blog to your favorites and check back soon.
Or: Are Black Women Really Apes?
December 9, 2007
Through the 19th century, carnivals put on the freak show. We only recently have evidence as to what real disease Joseph Merrick, or “The Elephant Man,” had. It was Proteus syndrome, named for the shape-shifting god Proteus. As for Saartjie Baartman, “The Venus Hottentot”, she had a condition known as steatopygia, and a sinus pudoris. The steatopygia enlarged her buttocks. As for the sinus pudoris, or enlongated labia, that wasn’t really a disease. It was merely an unusual genetic trait.
But what name do we give the disease of the spectators who paid to gaze at each of them? What name do we give those who paid extra to reach out and touch Saartjie Baartman’s enlarged buttocks? When Saartjie Baartman dies in Paris, Georges Cuvier compared her anatomy to that of an ape. Although he might have regarded as an intelligent woman who spoke Dutch fluently, he concluded she had an apish character due to her thick lips.
Cuvier was not an extraodinary case. William Smellie argued that nature “has formed the human species into castes and ranks.” Smellie argued African men and women were closer to apes then white men. Why? Because of what appeared to be the unusual shape of her sexual organs. If you are having difficulty making the link between sexual organs and being an ape, perhaps other great scientists can help clarify. Adrien Sharpy, for instance, believed that “the prostitute is an atavistic form of humanity whose primitive nature can be observed in the form of her genitalia.” In Sharpy’s cosmogony, black women and prostitutes were seen as very similar, a centeral bridge between the natural world and the civilized world. Black women and prostitues together were seen as being more like monkeys and chimpanzees than white bourgeois women. Scientists tried to cement this cosmogonic distinction and structure with experiments and surveys, so that breast size and pelvis shape were both characterized based on race and ethnicity.
But of course everyone knows better now. Just look at the arguments surrounding “The Venus Hottentot” and her return to South Africa. The BBC’s article “’Hottentot Venus’ Goes Home” includes the remark, “The French were concerned that to return Baartman's remains might lead to claims from other countries for return of artefacts held in French museums.” Yes, even today, the remains of Saartjie Baartman remains an “artefact.” What do you think the BBC would say if a white Christian male’s remains were examined by scientists post death, preserved and held on display for a century, and and then eventually asked to be buried by his descendants? Would he too be an artefact? Isn’t Lenin’s head floating around in a glass case somewhere?
Let’s return to Joseph Merrick, in particular Lynch’s adaptation of his story. Joseph (John in
Lynch’s version, reproducing an error going all the way back to Sir Frederick Treves) first goes to Dr. Treves as part of a deal Treves has with Merrick’s canival showman. During this first encounter, the scientific encounter directly mirrors the carnival encounter. In both, Merrick is objectified and regarded as inhuman. To be objectified does not imply that Merrick likes or dislikes the experience of being displayed; his desires are simply regarded as irrelevant. The community is impressed by his deformity. Yet, as the hospital leader points out, they cannot do anything for Joseph Merrick beyond the most superficial level. He is incurable, and thus the scientific community’s interest cannot be regarded as medicinal. Treves displays Merrick explicitly because of his phenomenal value as a biological Other. Once he has been seen and displayed, his value dissappears. Just as in the carnival, he is exploited and his rights as an individual are ignored. The first encounter between Treves and Merrick is not medicine, and is not even science.
However, the second encounter begins to take on a different shape. When Treves and Merrick begin speech therapy, and when Merrick surprises both Treves and the hospital manager with his intelligence, Treves begins to engage with Merrick on a more personal level. Some might argue that this stage too is exploitation. The character of Mothershead remarks that the people who visit him still only come because they “only want to impress their friends!” However, Merrick is capable of talking to the people who come and visit him on his second return to the hospital. To confine Merrick to indefinite confinement would no doubt be a greater error than to grant him sociality even if people still have difficulty accepting his appearance.
The film does differ from reality in many ways, but some conclusions remain the same in either case. The scientific community eventually wanted to help Merrick. This flies in the face of what happened to Baartman. She was dissected; he was cared for. What was the essential difference between them?
What insight Georges Cuvier believed he received from devoting 9 out of 16 pages of his dissection to the topic of her genetilia, one can only speculate at. His claim that, “there is nothing more celebrated in all of natural history” than her genetilia undoubtedly says more about Cuvier, and 19th century science, than Baartman herself.
Which was the freak—the sick man on the stage or the audience watching? Which was subhuman—the black woman or the men paying to poke her ass?
You decide.
Afterword
If you found this article interesting, please add this blog to your favorites and check back soon.
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