Reflections: The Little Mermaid (1989)

10 March 202319 March 2023 ~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

photo of the cover of the “Anniversary Edition” blu-ray of Disney’s animated film The Little Mermaid, showing Ariel looking up to the top left corner with Flounder on one side and Sebastian on the other, and Ursula grinning in the lower distance — Every time I see this cover I start to whistle “Under the Sea.”

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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Comics Scene magazine, issue 11 (Feb. 1990)

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.”

detail of page 38 of Comics Scene issue 11 (Feb. 1990), showing an animation still of Ursula from Disnely’s Little Mermaid overlaid with the following text: “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.” — “inky, slinky Ursula”

detail of page 38 of Comics Scene issue 11 (Feb. 1990), with a photo of Ruben Aquino drawing beside a sculpted maquette of Ursula; the photo caption reads “Born and raised in Okinawa, Ruben Aquino supervised a staff of four animators assigned to Ursula.”; some text of the Little Mermaid article is to the right of the photo — Ruben Aquino at work

Also see:
The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea
The Little Mermaid: Ariel’s Beginning

Reflections: Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989)

6 March 20236 March 2023 ~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

photo of the cover of the GKids blu-ray release of the animated film Kiki's Delivery Service, showing Kiki smiling as she flies towards the left on her broom, with Jiji the black cat perching on her shoulderbag and birds flying by — *Kiki, Jiji, and a radio*

It is so strange to see Kiki in more colorful clothes at the start of the movie. I completely forgot this was in the film.

Kiki meets another witch who seems like a snob but nevertheless takes time to answer her questions; she might be showing off and acting fancy, but she isn’t mean or rude. Jiji says the cat is stuck-up, but later he says the same thing about a different cat and learns otherwise.

I notice this other witch’s dress isn’t actually black.

With all the other times characters act like snobs, is Kiki guilty of this too, in her early treatment of Tombo?

Osono: the warmth and comfort of being welcomed by a stranger into her kitchen to share a hot drink—not as a daughter but also not quite as a friend, seen as still a child but able to make your own decisions, given extra kindness and understanding but not indulgence. Later Ursula the painter does much the same, though as less of a stranger by then.

A silent baker shamelessly showing off—for the cat.

An artist in the woods, independent and following her own path; and, we learn, she has previously had to break from her old practice of copying other painters.

This aged dog is an artistic ancestor of Heen in Howl’s Moving Castle.

Kiki, you need to say thank you to that dog.

Kiki tells Osono she can’t make deliveries now, and seems genuinely afraid she’ll be asked to leave the bakery attic. She ought to know Osono wouldn’t throw her out, but she is still thirteen years old, not as grown-up internally as she often seems.

Someone you care for is in mortal danger, and there is no hope for him but you, and yet the one special thing that makes you able to help is the thing that isn’t working at that moment.

A dirigible captain who knows his priorities: speak to the boy to give him instructions and reassurance, not to the crew, who know their jobs and signed on for this task knowing the risks.

“There are still times I feel sad . . .”

By the end of the movie, Kiki still doesn’t have a special skill or focus. She flies . . . which is the basic thing that all witches do. This always leaves me dissatisfied; but perhaps the point is her acceptance that right now, being able to fly on a broom (and talk to a cat) is enough.

Miyazaki elements: of course the flying machines, and flight in general; the need to find a balance between the old ways and the new ways; expressive faces as always; and a girl with grim determination as invisible power courses around her, making her hair rise up.

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There is no single trigger for Kiki’s crisis of confidence. We see her repeatedly regret the way she must dress while other girls get to look nice. She encounters the other witch who has a speciality, while she does not. She’s learned that the town has rules and habits that don’t make allowances for witches. Staring in boredom out a window, she looks up with interest at the sight of a young man, only to watch him leave with a cheerful young woman in a light-colored dress. We can imagine, though it’s never hinted at in anything she says, that Kiki second-guesses her decision to leave home before preparing herself better and maybe learning some of those potions her mother wanted to teach her. Possibly she asks herself if she gets along better with adults than people her own age because she’s old-fashioned and behind the times. She admits that she doesn’t find flying fun. She ends up wet and bedraggled face-to-face with a well-to-do birthday girl in her party dress, who treats Kiki like an unimportant laborer—treatment in keeping with being a deliveryperson. Then she gets upset that Tombo is friends with this girl.

It isn’t as simple as Kiki wanting to be like the birthday girl, though, because it seems clear Kiki considers her rude and ungrateful, someone who speaks dismissively of a good and thoughtful grandmother. Kiki may want what the richer girl has, but she wouldn’t want to be her. Is it possible to have it both ways, being fashionable and glamorous but at the same time pure in heart and respectful and kind? Does being the second mean she’ll never be the first?

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I imagine this conversation as Kiki returns the broom at the end of the movie:

Kiki (bowing): Thank you so much for letting me borrow this!
Street sweeper: Oh, not at all! I’m glad it was useful!
Kiki: It’s a good broom. Please continue to take good care of it.
Street sweeper: Oh! Well, if you like it so much—you could have it!
Kiki: Oh, no! I couldn’t! It belongs with you. It wouldn’t like to be given away.
Street sweeper (looking with puzzlement at broom-head): Is that so . . . ?

The Lament of Poluxena

27 February 202315 January 2024 ~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

When I was a child
My sister Kassandra
A child likewise
Took up an axe.
“If no one will believe me,”
Said she,
“I will do this myself.”
And on she marched to the chamber where our newborn little brother lay.
“Jealousy” some called it
(As if the latest baby was worse competition than the many that had come before)
And began to whisper “mad.”
Alas!
Woe for all the world
All the world we know
Lies in rusty blood and sifted ashes
Because rational heads
Using muscled hands
Took away an axe.
Alexandros Paris,
You should have been cleft as she desired.

Lumberjanes (2014-20)

22 February 202322 February 2023 ~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

To the Max!

featuring the work of Noelle Stevenson, Grace Ellis, Shannon Watters, Brooklyn Allen, Carolyn Nowak, Kat Leyh, Carey Pietsch, Ayme Sotuyo, and Maarta Laiho

It’s hard to say much about Lumberjanes that won’t be either (1) so obvious it goes without saying to anyone familiar with the series or (2) a big spoiler for anyone who hasn’t read it. And I would hate to spoil this for anybody.

So, in short, Lumberjanes is a long-running comic-book series about a group of cabinmates (Roanoke cabin) at a weird summer camp where strange things happen and they get through it using intelligence, hard work, book knowledge, craft skills, guesswork, determination, the piecing together of seemingly unrelated facts, the power of friendship, and a raccoon.

There may or may not be Greek statues that talk and play games, yetis, punk mermaids, rule-breaking,* lanyards, pirate ships, glitter,** moose travel, fox mischief, mysteries being slowly revealed, outhouse portals, bird romance, human romance, someone’s abuela, and supernatural kittens.

Along the way the girls get to know each other and themselves better and maybe even learn better ways to communicate who they are to other people. The series is fun and intelligent and clever and thoughtful and well-stocked with things you didn’t expect.

Occasionally girls from other cabins witness the strange things (I’m not even talking about the dinosaurs) and typically don’t freak out, and I love the idea that the lady types in these other cabins may also be out there having bizarre adventures, so they’re not really fazed when whatever the Roanokes are involved in breaks into their shared community experience.

My favorite Roanakes are Ripley for her quirkiness and Molly for her quiet angst.

I’ve read the first five volumes of the To the Max hardcover editions (collecting issues 1-40). Once upon a time I had an order placed for volume 6, but that fell through and I haven’t gotten my hands on it yet. Sadly, volume six only goes through issue 48 (out of 75) and it doesn’t look like there are any plans to go further with this line of hardbacks. I assume the other issues are collected in trade paperbacks, though.

And, I mean, there’s also the library.

photo of Lumberjanes to the Max vol. 2, p. 105, reprinting the first page of issue 14 (art by Brooke Allen) — “Jen help”

*Okay, yes, there’s definitely rule-breaking.

**Thankfully, no actual glitter that falls out of the books and stays on your clothes and in your carpet for five years.

My Neighbor Totoro (1988)

6 February 20236 February 2023 ~ Not Alison ~ Leave a comment

photo of the cover of the GKids blu-ray release of My Neighbor Totoro, showing a girl holding an umbrella waiting at a bus stop in the rain beside a large fluffy blue-grey whiskered creature staring straight ahead; he has a leaf on his head — *In Miyazaki’s original version of the story, there was only one girl, not a pair of sisters.*

Totoro in a few words and phrases: joyful, playful, beaming with wonder, rich in emotion.

Miyazaki trademarks offered here: nature coexisting with humans and vice versa, touches of a not-hostile supernatural, flying in strong wind, active girls looking out for their family or community, facial expressions that communicate so much.

Both girls, but especially Mei, show absolute delight and eagerness when they encounter creatures and situations that would be scary if allowed to be. The girls boldly leap at things that are strange and new.

You can be good, kind, and respectful but still behave like a kid.

Satsuki is working so hard to fill the place her mother would: preparing bento boxes, tending the kitchen fire, fixing her little sister’s hair, reminding her father of things.

At the start you see the truck packed with belongings, and Miyazaki doesn’t forget to include, without drawing any special attention to them, a pair of umbrellas sticking out the top.

I wonder if Totoro’s breath smells like leaves and fresh grass. It must not smell bad, and is likely even pleasant, because Mei and Satsuki aren’t the least bit fazed when he exhales a gale on either of them.

I will always and forever love the catbus.

When your dog seems to be barking at nothing at all, it might not be a ghost—it might be a catbus.