Faerie Tale Theatre Reviews: Thumbelina

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“I’m always the bride, and never the bridesmaid.”
– Our heroine’s fourth wall-leaning lament

The idea of tiny people going on huge adventures is nothing new in fairy tales. Hans Christian Andersen took most of his inspiration for today’s story from the seventeenth-century English tale of Tom Thumb, but his own flourishes make Thumbelina a slightly original creation. It was published in 1835 as part of the second fairy tale collection Andersen released that year, which included The Princess and the Pea. It received the same criticisms, namely the lack of clear morals, informal chatty nature and passive characters. Discouraged, Andersen returned to novel writing for a full year before trying his hands at fairy tales again.

Now, it’s no secret that Andersen used most of his stories to vent his own insecurities and frustrations. Thumbelina is no exception, though he’s a bit subtler about it this time around. It’s been theorized that Thumbelina’s platonic relationship with the swallow was a “distant tribute” to a confidante named Henriette Wuff, though there’s little evidence to support it. There’s also the beetle who admires Thumbelina’s beauty but changes its tune when he shows her off to his fellow bugs and they deem her “ugly”; an on-the-nose critique of his fickle audience if ever there was one. What’s certain, however, is that while studying in Slagelse, Zealand, Andersen was tutored by a short, stout, balding, contemptuous classics teacher named Simon Meisling who frequently abused his pupil. “You’re a stupid boy who will never make it,” he once berated him in front of the entire class. Meisling is all but confirmed to be the inspiration for the odious Mole, which proves the adage of never pissing off the writer.

Then there’s the story’s lesson, which is…complicated. On the one hand, Thumbelina bouncing around from one miserable suitor of differing species to another until she finds someone exactly like her can come across as “stick to your own kind”, which borders on yikes. On the other, when Thumbelina finally meets her fairy prince, she’s not pressed into marrying him. She chooses to marry him. Thumbelina is really a story about a woman running away from futures she has no say in to charter her own course in life, an empowering message for women in Andersen’s time – and even today, when put in the right hands.

March Review: Sleeping Beauty (1959)

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Whenever I discuss Sleeping Beauty with someone who doesn’t share my enthusiasm for Disney, they have an irksome tendency to get it muddled with Snow White; their excuse being “it has the same plot”. I’ll admit, there are some surface similarities that even the most casual viewer can pick up on: a fairytale where a princess is forced into unconsciousness and wakes up with some necking, the comic relief and villain being the most beloved characters, a little frolic in the forest with animals, the antagonist plunging off a cliff, you get the idea. In fact, Sleeping Beauty even reuses some discarded story beats from Snow White, mainly our couple dancing on a cloud and the villain capturing the prince to prevent him from waking his princess. Yet despite that, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are two wholly different movies shaped by the era and talents of the time.

I’ve discussed how Walt Disney was never one to stick to a repeated formula, no matter how successful it was. He must have noticed the parallels between his first movie and this one, but decided to make one crucial change for Sleeping Beauty that would forever differentiate the two: the look. We all know the traditional Disney house style: round, soft shapes, big eyes; charming as it was and still is, Walt was sick of it after several decades. Meanwhile, artists like Mary Blair and Eyvind Earle were producing gorgeous concept art that rarely made a perfect translation into the Disney house style.

Walt wanted to make a feature that took the pop artistry of their designs and made the animation work for it instead of the other way around – which brings us to another animation studio that was doing well at the time, United Pictures Animation, or UPA.

UPA didn’t have the kind of budget Disney normally had for their animated projects, but what they lacked in fluidity they made up for in style. Watch The Tell-Tale Heart, Gerald McBoing-Boing and Rooty-Toot-Toot to see what I mean. UPA were pioneers of limited animation, taking their scant resources and creating some striking visuals with bold geometric designs. Through this, they defined the look of 50’s animation. Though perhaps unintentional, Sleeping Beauty comes across as Disney’s response to UPA, or what would happen if UPA had the funds they deserved. The characters’ contours are angular but effortlessly graceful, defining their inherent dignity and royalty. And the colors, ohhh the colors…

Because of the immense amount of work required to animate in this difficult new style (and in the Cinemascope ratio, no less) as well as story troubles and Walt barely supervising the animation studio now that he had his hands full with live-action films, television, and a theme park, Sleeping Beauty had a turbulent production that lasted the entirety of the 1950s. For a time, Chuck Jones of Looney Tunes fame was set to direct. Director Wilfred Jackson suffered a heart attack partway through production and Eric Larson, one of the Nine Old Men, took the mantle from there before Walt Disney replaced him Clyde Geronimi. And even after that, Wolfgang Reitherman teamed up with Geronimi as co-director to get the film finished after no less than three delays. Also, Don Bluth got his foot in the door as an assistant animator for this feature, beginning his short-lived but impactful tenure at Disney. Did all this hamper the movie, or did they succeed in what they set out to accomplish?

Well, one of the reasons why this review took so long was because I had a hard time not repeating “MOVIE PRETTY” and “MALEFICENT AWESOME” over and over. Make what you will of that.

July Review: The Secret of Kells (2009)

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(DISCLAIMER: This blog is not for profit. All images and footage used below are property of their respective companies unless stated otherwise. I do not claim ownership of this material.)

“I have lived through many ages…through the eyes of salmon, deer, and wolf…

I have seen the North Men invading Ireland, destroying all in search of gold…

I have seen suffering in the darkness…

Yet I’ve seen beauty thrive in the most fragile of places…

I have seen the Book…the Book that turned darkness into light.”

– Prologue to “The Secret of Kells”

2009 was, in my opinion, a banner year for animation – you got Disney’s return to hand-drawn animation (The Princess and the Frog), Pixar’s 10^th film which would become the second animated movie to ever be nominated for Best Picture (Up), another eccentric, beautiful entry into the world of Miyazaki (Ponyo), and not one but TWO excellent stop-motion films, the latter helmed by the director of one of my favorite movies of all time (Fantastic Mr. Fox and Coraline). It was no surprise that most of them were nominated for Best Animated Feature at the Oscars that year, but there was one movie nominated that not many people knew of and took us by surprise. That movie, all the way from Ireland, is “The Secret of Kells” (or “Brendan and the Secret of Kells” if you’re watching from somewhere other than the US).

When I first heard of the movie I didn’t quite know what to think of it. I had no idea what the story was or who these characters were, but it was the visuals struck me the most. It had this very Gendy Tartakovsky feel to it, like something you’d see in Samurai Jack, but at the same time had this very organic original look. I watched a few clips and became more intrigued by this world and what kind of story it was trying to tell. Even though traditional animation is still used to make films in other parts of the world, it’s sadly very rare to see it utilized in the States anymore, so that also got me interested. It certainly must have done something right to get a standing ovation from the staff at Pixar.

But in the end you have to ask yourself, was this little hand-drawn indie film from the other side of the world deserving of all the nominations and the accolades it’s been given?

Yes. Yes it is. I wouldn’t be looking at this film if it wasn’t. Here it is, you voted for it and I’m reviewing it, Cartoon Saloon’s Academy Award-nominated animated film, The Secret of Kells.

We open with the aforementioned prologue spoken over flashes of different scenes, most, if not all of which will come into play during the film. Without the narration they might seem disconnected, but together they do a fantastic job of setting the mood for what we’re about to see. Regardless of whether you have your volume on or not while watching this (and I can honestly say this is one of the few films you’ll be able to understand what’s happening and enjoy even without it), they are amazing to look at – vikings raiding an island, a man and a cat escaping through a stormy sea, animals roaming forests, an old man lamenting alone in the dark, and an innocent face peering out from the leaves.

Hi, I’ll be your film’s icon for the rest of forever.

After that sequence, we meet our main character, Brendan (Evan McGuire). He’s on a wild goose chase with a bunch of monks…let me rephrase that.

They’re trying to get some feathers from a goose to use as quills which results in a fun chase throughout the abbey of Kells. It’s interesting to note that each of the monks represents a different nationality, which, while very simple, is a rather nice touch. After all, the art from the book that this film drew inspiration from (The Book of Kells, but more on that later) did have artwork drawn in and inspired by styles from other nations. That does make some of the design choices for a few of the monks a bit problematic, however…

Apparently they were also inspired by Warner Brothers cartoons from the late thirties.

Before I turn this into a controversy (something I’d really hate to put upon this film), I want to say that despite how distracting the African monk might look the first time you see him, he is NOT an offensive character. Nothing he does or says is like any of the negative stereotypes that unfortunately still often persist in the media. I only wanted to give anyone who wants to watch this film a heads up so they’re not too thrown off and make a quick little joke about it as well. Let’s move on.

So the race to catch the goose continues –

And we’re treated to one of the previous incarnations of Fiddleford McGucket…

– until Brendan finally catches him. He and the monks have a good laugh until Brendan’s uncle, Abbot Cellach (Brendan Gleeson), appears on the scene. He sternly berates them for fooling around instead of tending to their duties and reminds them they’ll be back to work tomorrow.

You see, Cellach is working on a huge wall encompassing all of Kells to keep the threat of invaders from the North away (and after reading the prequel comic – which I can’t recommend enough – I can say his reasons for making sure the Vikings don’t raid his village are more than justified.) Most of the village, including the monks, have all been recruited in helping to build the wall.

I’ll get into more detail into why I think Cellach such a great complex character later, but I’ll say this for now – this short scene does a good job of establishing how everyone else views him. Brendan’s playful and curious demeanor falls away and he loses his voice under his uncle’s gaze. Even the monks are unable to speak up around him. Cellach has no time to deal with your nonsense and he makes sure everyone knows it with just his stare.

“The first person who calls me by yelling “Hey ABBOOT!!” gets my novelty horseshoe up where the sun don’t shine.”

The monks bring the quills to the scriptorium, where they lament how they wish they could stop slaving over the Abbot’s wall and go back to their real work – illumination.