It’s mentioned a lot in DVD extras and the like, but casual post–Gen X viewers may not realize how revolutionary The Little Mermaid was in U.S. animation when it came out.* In the 1980s animated movies were still being made—Secret of NIMH, Last Unicorn, American Tail, Disney’s own Oliver and Company—but they weren’t huge, and Disney was more engaged with making live-action films and rereleasing past glories than with creating new animation.
The idea of “the Disney princess” did not exist. Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty were around, but they weren’t viewed as a collective franchise or thought of as a group beyond the general fact that all three were in Disney movies. Now, after a long spell of modest efforts, Disney went back to the formula of fairy tale + songs, and The Little Mermaid became an enormous success, effectively launching all the princess films that followed, from Beauty and the Beast to Pocahontas on through Moana. Animation from other studios came hurrying after in the wake.
Disney animated movies had always had songs, but this time the songs took on a new dimension. Howard Ashman and Alan Menken brought in more of the sensibility of musical theatre, and transformed what the animated musical looked like. Oliver and Company—its production overlapped with that of Little Mermaid—was also a musical, but something about it didn’t catch. Little Mermaid got into the country’s heart.
This is a wonderful, moving film, combining dynamic animation, beautiful music, and characters with depth and complexity, a film that went light years beyond the things that had come before it in this country. It soared off the screen in a way we weren’t prepared for.
* I specify U.S. animation, because despite Battle of the Planets, Star Blazers, and Robotech, general U.S. culture wasn’t paying attention to the animation coming out of Japan.
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I had a problem the first time I saw Little Mermaid, though: I knew how the story was supposed to end, and I felt betrayed because they changed the beauty of the original story’s conclusion. After all, it’s only logical that if you’re to choose a tragedy, you must be okay with a heartbreaking ending. Keeping the unhappy ending seems unthinkable now, but at the time it actually felt possible to me—naive perhaps, but also a sign that the movie existed at a truly transitional moment, with the old Disney fairy-tales long past, and the modern stream not yet imagined. I knew this film was a new thing, although it wasn’t quite as groundbreaking as that would have been.
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Ariel is an active princess who goes out and pursues her desires. She has choices, and she makes them herself, good and bad. The entire plot moves because she is chasing her dreams and fantasies, and if she had been a passive, obedient daughter, the story would consist of a successful debut concert and Eric’s ship sinking, which she would not care about even if she knew of it, because it would be just another shipwreck she had no connection to.
I think one of the main reasons this film had such an impact is that as an audience we care deeply about Ariel, something that might be traced largely to a single song. “Part of Your World” brings together lyrics, instruments, vocal performance, and animation into a sequence of almost tangible longing. From the careful, steady pacing to the breathiness of certain lines to the size of her eyes and the way she literally reaches upward to the world she can’t have, it all brings you into her yearning so you can feel what she feels (and oh-so-naturally slips in a phrase you might not notice at the time or think about even after you know what happens later: “What would I give—?”).
Ariel’s father Triton does harsh things that hurt her but immediately regrets losing his temper and second-guesses his impulsive actions. He doesn’t rage over nothing, but he overreacts, then sees that he overreacted and blames himself. He acts like he has all the answers, but when he has time to think, he realizes he doesn’t. His negative actions drive Ariel forward in the plot, but he isn’t a villain. And when the moment comes to save Ariel, he takes her place just as impulsively and without concern for anything but her.
Ursula the sea witch is intelligent, devious, and crafty. More than that, she’s formidable. She thinks several steps ahead and has an old feud with Triton that the storyline only skims but must have been festering for years. You might suspect that all the merfolk she’s cheated over this time have in some way been jabs to get back at Triton, taking his people away from him whenever she can. The movie’s main character is only a pawn in Ursula’s own tale; she uses Ariel as a tool to achieve something else and near the end directly tells her, “It’s not you I’m after.” Ursula’s grievance and resentment has made her keen and meticulous instead of impulsive and reckless; in temperament she is the exact opposite of Triton. Which is probably why she finally gets the better of him. (Note that Triton has no hand in defeating her.)
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We should not overlook the sheer daring of deciding to make a musical, establishing within the story that the main character has a beautiful singing voice, and then making that character voiceless for half the movie.
The first time I saw a picture of what actual flounders look like, I was first disgusted and second confused, because there was no way Flounder was a flounder, no matter how much you prettify an ugly fish for animation. But of course, he isn’t a flounder, it’s just his name, inexplicably. This is a lot like naming your horse Moose, or calling your dog Hyena. But did Ariel name him or did his mother or did he name himself? I think we should know that.
I wonder, was this the last Disney fairy-tale where the villain was deliberately killed by one of the good guys? Usually they fall by accident or some natural disaster overtakes them.
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I recently read an article from an issue of Comics Scene—which, as you can see, covered animation as well as comics—about The Little Mermaid. The cover date is Feb 1990, but it would’ve been published a little earlier; this would’ve been on sale while the movie was in theaters, and the article written before that. The people being interviewed couldn’t be sure how successful the movie would be, and it’s funny to see the co-director feeling a need to clarify that Ariel is the name of the main character.
I think my favorite part of the article is this little gem about Ursula:
“Inky, slinky Ursula is voiced by Pat Carroll, who envisions the character as part Shakespearean actress, with all the requisite theatricality, and part used car saleswoman.”
Also see: The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea The Little Mermaid: Ariel’s Beginning