The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale? Part IV.

As Part III has shown, de Beaumont and Andersen's tales have experienced a number of changes at the hands of Disney.  This post aims to examine the films in relation to these alterations, as well as in terms of their general themes and values, to ascertain how women are represented, and whether this corresponds with common gender stereotypes, post-feminist critique, and Disney's contemporary ethos.  To coincide with the format of the previous post, the role or, as Propp theorises, the lack of parent will first be addressed.

In a lecture on the position of women within the folk tale, Warner states that femininity has always been associated with reproduction, and that once a woman passes the age of fertility, they are seen as undesirable and unproductive.  A female that is unable to have children implies disobedience towards the laws of nature, which is emphasised in the majority of fairy tales by her horrific physicality; as in the case of the sorceress in Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), or malicious behaviour; The Little Mermaid's (Clement & Musker, 1989) Ursula:

[…] a theme develops that takes the infertile women who has passed the age of childbearing as representing in some fundamental way a transgression against the purpose of her sex, and in that transgression against the natural God-given order she can then serve to represent other pejorative and repulsive or repugnant aberrations.  (1993:72-73)

On the one hand, these women can be viewed positively as, unlike their young rivals, they are largely responsible for their own actions, and display dominance and superiority over those weaker than themselves.  They are also, according to Bell, the only women to speak to the audience via a tendency to frame them in close-up:

The narrative flow is set into motion by the actions and reactions of these women, as they respond to the behaviours of the protagonists, i.e. the sorceress' punishment of the prince's selfishness.  The fact that they are permitted to gaze directly into the camera means that they are granted the ability to challenge the viewer, both in terms of their visual perspective, and their moral outlook.  Whereas the protagonists, Belle and Ariel, are merely constructs of their surroundings, and have no influence over those that are commenting on and controlling their lives.

Naturally, these villainesses are not simple examples of positive female representations, as their power is indicative of negative patriarchal ideology.  Focusing on Ursula to begin with, while it is explained that she once lived in Triton's palace, no reason is given for her banishment; implying that she became a threat to the king's masculinity and governance, on account of her size and supernatural abilities.  Subsequently she lives alone, with her dark and foreboding cavern of residence resembling a womb, whose tunnels, containing the shrivelled remains of previous victims, lead Ariel to her fate. 

Ursula is not actually a mermaid, rather she is an octopus or, as Sells claims, an 'inverted Medusa' (1995:184), and her unattractiveness is emphasised by her grotesque obesity, particularly when viewed in contrast to Ariel's slenderness.  As such, Ursula is not part of any of the film's communities, and represents the threat of difference and otherness; specifically towards patriarchy.  Her appearance epitomises the stereotypically unattractive traits of femininity, while her weight connotes an overbearing and smothering matriarchal presence (Trites, 1990/1991). 

The fact that her cave is reminiscent of a womb suggests male anxieties towards strong and autonomous women, while her imprisonment protects men from the threat of castration; by situating her as Other, outside the norm, patriarchal hegemony is safe from being overruled. 

While it is Ariel that seeks Ursula's help in the first place, the trade that takes place; voice for soul, is fuelled just as much by the needs of the witch as those of the mermaid.  Ursula is jealous of Ariel's beauty, voice and place within Triton's kingdom, and preys on the girl's weakness; her love for Eric, in retaliation to her banishment.  Her hideousness, as Sells assents, makes Ariel's rejection of the only strong female character in favour of the male-dominated human world understandable, as she would seemingly prefer to be mute and beautiful than articulate and repulsive:

Ariel's entry into the white male system is at the expense of her connection with the mother.  The gynophobic imagery sanitizes this cost, making it more palatable.  By vilifying feminine power in the figure of Ursula, Disney simplifies Ariel's choice: in the white male system it is much easier to be silent than to be seen as monstrous. (1995:181)

In the scene where the trade takes place, Ursula sings to Ariel of the 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' (Clements & Musker, 1989) that she has allegedly helped in achieving their wishes to be more desirable.  Already, the witch is offering Ariel something that many women yearn for and, when the mermaid questions whether she can leave her family, she persuades her by stating that 'Life is full of tough choices' (Clements & Musker, 1989).  One of these choices is of course Ariel's loss of voice in exchange for a human life, but Ursula makes this seem a small sacrifice, and tells the girl that she will 'never even miss it' (Clements & Musker, 1989), and that she will still have her looks, and her body language.

Ursula's insinuation that Ariel will not need her voice when she becomes human is interesting, as it implies a patriarchal notion that silent women will become more successful and appealing.  As Walter observes, men who do not speak are stereotypically regarded as icons of masculinity, such as Pride and Prejudice's Mr Darcy; for talking is generally associated with the expressing of emotions.  Quiet men are often seen as attractive and powerful because of their ability to control their feelings, which fascinates women who long to expose these hidden depths.

In contrast, women who talk openly and frequently are commonly perceived as irritating gossips, whereas those that are silent may be considered as uneducated outsiders; unable to participate in intelligent conversation.  Alternatively, as Warner and McRobbie propose, a quiet woman can signify compliance; a concept that dates back to mediaeval imagery, where Obedience was always portrayed with her hand over her mouth (Warner, 1993:72).  Warner goes on to describe that, if a woman answered back, she would be punished by the removal of her beauty, and an increase in her age.  Thus, what typifies the ideal woman; good-looking and reproductive, is taken away, which may have been Ursula's fate, as perhaps she verbally challenged Triton's authority, leading to her incarceration and ugliness:

'Hence the connections between beauty and virtue on the one hand, and ugliness and vice on the other.' (1993:72-73)

McRobbie applies a post-feminist critique to this way of thinking, suggesting that due to the recent increase in female emancipation, and the general consensus that the sexes are equal, women feel unable to speak out against any disparities, as they fear they will be looked upon as troublemakers.  Hence, it seems women tend not to complain if they are treated unfairly, for society assumes that they should be grateful for the freedoms they have been granted, as McRobbie posits:

'[…] the new female subject is, despite her freedom, called upon to be silent, to withhold critique in order to count as a modern sophisticated girl.  Indeed this withholding of critique is a condition of her freedom.' (2009:18)

If a woman was to challenge the media's objectification of her gender for instance, she could be criticised for opposing the very liberations that she has been awarded, as women are now encouraged to embrace their sexuality through such means as clothing and make-up, which are presented to them via magazines, television and posters.

Ursula symbolises Warner's vision of a woman who spoke against a strong patriarchal presence, and by instructing Ariel to remain silent, she is passing on her wisdom of this experience that, when viewed in this way, can be seen as a means of protecting the mermaid from drawing attention to her inferior intelligence and cultural knowledge. 

Following Ursula's song, Ariel's quick acceptance implies that perhaps she is already aware of the limitations of her voice; indeed, when the sea witch first sets out the conditions, Ariel replies with 'But without my voice how can I...' (Clements & Musker, 1989), as if she is unable to construct a cohesive argument even with the ability of speech.   Consequently, Ariel replicates the woman of the post-feminist era as, although attached to her voice as a means of expression, which Disney emphasises by making her a talented singer, she understands that she will gain more success and admiration from staying mute.

Speech is one of the key signs of a woman's identity, and without it, Ariel must rely on another of her feminine indicators; her body.  Ursula's physical form works to accentuate outward appearance, as her lack of femininity evokes an image similar to that of a drag queen (Sells, 1995:182). According to Sells, Disney's director of animation, Ruben Acquine, cited the legendary drag artist Divine as the inspiration for Ursula's look, and it is this that enables a closer study of this character. 

The 'Poor Unfortunate Souls' sequence could be read as Ursula's drag routine, as her actions simulate those of a performer preparing herself to go on stage, where she proceeds to sing and dance provocatively, even using her pet eels, Flotsam and Jetsam, as substitutes for a feather boa:

Ursula's lack of femininity means that this performance is exactly that; a satirical acting out of what it is to be a woman.  Rather than making her seem womanly, the witch's overt use of make-up and coiffured hair appears false, as if it is part of the show, or 'masquerade' (Sells, 1995:182).  Ursula is teaching Ariel the physicalities of how to be a woman, yet Sells suggests that this character is so far removed from womanliness that she is not representing herself as a prime example, but as a recreation of a female:

'In Ursula's drag scene, Ariel learns that gender is performance; Ursula doesn't simply symbolize woman, she performs woman.' (1995:182)

Sells notes that Ariel is taught another lesson by her elder, that to be a woman she must act accordingly, modelling herself to fit with the ideals that correlate with her gender.  Later, when a newly transformed Ariel encounters Eric on the beach, it is clear that Ursula's coaching has paid off, as the mermaid turns to mischievously smile and wink at her friends, demonstrating that she is acutely aware that this is all a game.

Ariel and Ursula's mimicking of the female form, as well as the mermaid's falsification of humanity, stresses the way that the motifs of gender are created.  Ursula as drag queen seeks to remind the viewer that a large proportion of gender-specific behaviours are learnt; influenced by, and modified to fit with, the established norms of society.  Women are 'supposed' to be interested in fashion and beauty, in order to be sexually alluring and successful, and the fact that they are essentially allowed to present themselves as they like, means that the general consensus is one of liberation and equality.  In some respects this is true; with post-feminist discourse assenting that a woman's freedom of expression is a result of a rise in sexual parity, and that the relationship they now have with maintaining their appearance is an enjoyable one.  In Walter's view:

In this final march towards equality, the puritanism that was expressed by so many earlier feminists is a hindrance rather than a help.  Puritanism alienates women as it does not reflect the real, often wickedly enjoyable relationship they have with their clothes and their bodies. (1998:86)

In opposition is the view that women are still subjected to the patriarchal system of values that decree what is appropriate in terms of dress, gesture and mannerisms and, if they were to dramatically go against these rules in pursuit of emancipation, they could be labelled as being too provocative and suggestive. 

It appears that it is the latter perspective that is presented in The Little Mermaid, since Ursula is not illustrated as a woman, but as a cultural construction of womanhood.  If the scenario had been different, and she was depicted naturally, with less make-up and a reduced emphasis on the importance of body language, Ursula might have connoted the principles of Walter's above statement; that women are responsible for their own appearance.  As it stands, with Ursula the drag queen, Disney is implying the androcentric view that women focus on their exteriors in order to benefit men, who are also the dictators of feminine appeal.  The sea witch is effectively a man disguised as a woman, which signifies the hidden patriarchal values at the centre of this film that are literally masqueraded as female independence and emancipation.

The opening premise of this post raised the issue of the role of the parent in fairy tales, and it could be contended that Ursula takes on this position as a substitute mother for Ariel.  Whereas in Andersen's story the mermaid seeks advice regarding the outside world from her grandmother, Ariel receives her facts from Ursula; the only creature to tell her the truth about the humans.  It is Ursula that Ariel calls upon at her time of need, and it is the witch that teaches her how to act, which serves to keep the girl safe once she is among the humans; even if it is more of an advantage for Ursula. 

To return to Worthington's ideas discussed in Part III, the mother/daughter relationship is regularly omitted by Disney because of the difficulties in portraying this multifaceted connection.  If a matriarch does feature, they are generally viewed as a destructive presence, and display feelings of jealousy, rivalry and spite towards their children or step-children.  Ariel shuns the possibility of becoming like Ursula by choosing to live as a human, but the fact that it is the sea witch that gives her this option has maternal connotations.  It is Ursula, as mother, that offers her 'child' the promise of an enjoyable and successful life and, as White proposes, her physical appearance could be deemed as endearing and comforting, with her girth actually giving the impression of softness and warmth:

'Perhaps this is why Ursula, for all her villainy, is a lovable character, whose obesity must be rejected by the girl viewer on aesthetic grounds, but whose ample, maternal folds may also offer vague refuge.' (1993:191-192)

In a sense, Ursula gives Ariel the emotional support that she likely does not receive from her oppressive father, who is more intent on ensuring that his daughter abides by his regime: 'As long as you are living under my ocean, you'll obey my rules' (Clements & Musker, 1989).  Hence, Ursula's contract serves as Ariel's way out of this patriarchal environment; albeit to one that is equally male-dominated.

However, it is made clear from early on in the film that Ursula is resentful of her banishment, and is prepared to go to any lengths to take revenge.  Like the typical villain of Propp's thesis, Ursula receives information on her impending victim, Ariel, via another character, in this case two; Flotsam and Jetsam, who report on the mermaid's infatuation with Prince Eric.  The witch sees this as the ideal opportunity for retaliation, stating that Ariel may be the solution to Triton's downfall; thus the girl is simply a pawn in Ursula's scheme.  Here, Nadel alleges that Ursula stands as an icon of the 'backlash' mode of feminism (1997:94), which witnessed a move by women to overthrow long-standing patriarchal mores, even if this involved harming their own kin:

These feminists [...] aim, according to the mythology of backlash, not to advance women so much as to destroy male-dominated institutions.  Women, in this scenario, are their innocent victims not their beneficiaries.  In adhering to this description Ursula attempts to undermine the advances she has facilitated so that Ariel and, more important, Triton will be in her complete control. (1997:94)

It becomes apparent then, that Ursula remains a jealous and self-motivated mother, and any positive implications that she may possess, as described by White, are overshadowed by her unsavoury character.  Envious that Ariel has everything that she does not, Ursula feels threatened, even though she is an extremely powerful force.  Worthington suggests that this is a sign of the culture in which the film was made, where mature women who may have fulfilled their potentials in terms of social class, wealth and employment are looked upon as less important and influential than their younger counterparts:

These equations of the young beauty with goodness and purity and the older woman with jealousy and evil give a very stark indication of society's viewpoint: as the older woman becomes less beautiful and the young girl becomes more so, the older woman loses social value, despite the fact that she is at that moment […] at the height of her social power and sexual maturity.  According to these films, unless a woman is "the fairest one of all," she is worthless and, subsequently, evil. (2009:34)

Worthington maintains that this tendency to illustrate the older woman as insignificant and bitter is damaging to the beliefs of young female spectators, who may apply this reasoning to their real mothers, and consider them devious menaces, rather than sites of love and encouragement.  This opposes Walter's notion, as examined in the introduction, that women share a number of intrinsic values and principles, based on a common desire for equality.  Instead, The Little Mermaid posits women as being in competition with each other, serving to dislocate this post-feminist sense of unity, resulting in a negation of the true adversary; patriarchy.  Consequently, Disney intimates that male domination is not such a disturbing power as female rivalry, and that, in reality, it is not patriarchy to blame for society's inequalities, but women's apparent need to better one another.

Beauty and the Beast is similarly derogative towards the trustworthiness and selfish intentions of women, who are to blame for the downfalls of men and, in a wider context, society.  The film's opening, where the prince is punished by a sorcereress for his selfishness, lays the foundations for the narrative's undertone; that the Beast is an innocent victim of female wickedness. 

As has been demonstrated, the main character of Disney's Beauty and the Beast is the Beast/Prince rather than Beauty who, since the tale's oral origins, has nearly always been positioned as the protagonist.  Disney's adaptation of the traditional story, made most famous by de Beaumont, places more importance on Beast's enchantment; the details of which are not revealed until the end of most literary versions.   Not only is the Beast/Prince automatically placed as the hero on account of his receipt of an interdiction but, by commencing the tale with him, the audience is led to sympathise with his plight first and foremost, above any allegiances they may make with Belle, whose own story is secondary.  Moreover, Jeffords insists that the Prince's attitude towards the beggar is a product of a poor upbringing, and that this is evidenced in the film by his spoilt, uneducated and rude demeanour:

[…] in contrast to the commanding, sophisticated, and intelligent Beasts that frequent the other tales and that finally make them so deserving of Beauty's love, this Beast seems childish, blustering, "clumsy", petulant, and untutored.  As with his upbringing and his initial acquisition of his selfish personality, the Beast does not have to take responsibility for his behaviour.  (1995:169)

Accordingly, the parents are cited as detrimental to their child's welfare, and the fact that the Prince's family is nowhere to be seen means that they are not given the opportunity to defend themselves, with their absence making their son appear more vulnerable.  It is this vulnerability that the villain plays on, manipulating a man who has limited social skills, and turning him into a prisoner of his physical and cultural environment.

Belle, the donor, is situated as Beast's saviour, as well as his tutor; teaching him how to read, dance, and show patience.  The role of this Beauty may be important, for it is her devotion and love that helps Beast transform, but her character remains minor in comparison to her student. 

Visually, Beast dominates the frame, symbolically overshadowing the smaller Belle , who literally has to look up when speaking to him.  Thus, on top of being metaphorically located as the hero, Beast is bodily illustrated in this way, with his size signifying his male power and authority, trapped within the confines of the screen that, arguably, holds a generally female gaze:

Belle's aptitude for caring for Beast stems from the ineffectuality of her father, who seems incapable of looking after himself, let alone his daughter.  Maurice is an inventor and, as such, is characterised as a stereotypically odd and eccentric man, who likely spends more time on his latest project than with Belle.   Consequently, she has probably had to raise herself; as again there is no mother figure, in tandem with minding her father, hence a reversal of the traditional parent/child relationship.  This is shown when Belle takes Maurice's place as Beast's prisoner, a deed that Byrne and McQuillan describe as a 'classic piece of maternal self-sacrifice' (1999:67) and, certainly, Belle's tendency to put the needs of others before her own makes her the most parentally responsible character in the film.

Like de Beaumont's Beauty, Belle loves to read, and it is this that marks her as an intelligent woman.  McRobbie claims that, in today's post-feminist culture, women are invited to actively obtain a considerable education that is then traded for a higher-ranking position within employment, and society.  In other words, the most highly qualified, hard-working and determined women are recompensed by greater economic and social autonomy, or as McRobbie argues:

'Nowadays the young woman's success seems to promise economic prosperity on the basis of her enthusiasm for work and having a career.' (2009:58)

There is a drawback to this situation; this recent freedom of participation in the wider economy reminds women of the advancements that have occurred to allow it, which McRobbie contends may cause women to feel indebted to, and unworthy of, their male co-workers:

'[Women] are invited to recognise themselves as privileged subjects of social change, perhaps they might even be expected to be grateful for the support they have received.' (2009:58)

Belle's literary pursuits primarily imply her astuteness, and longing to increase her learning, yet the book that she states is her favourite is none other than Sleeping Beauty; a fairy tale, which has the converse effect of representing her as a romantic dreamer, rather than a woman seeking cultural emancipation.  In reality, Belle's books provide her with a form of escapism, and in her song 'Little Town', she sings of her wish for 'adventure in the great wide somewhere' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991), though she does not know where, or how, to achieve this. 

Additionally, this hobby isolates Belle from the rest of the town, who label her as strange and distant, while Gaston, the film's resident bully and Beast's antithesis, tells her that it is not right for women to read because it gives them ideas, and 'gets them thinking' (Trousdale & Wise, 1991).

Subsequently, Belle does not accord with McRobbie's notion of the intellectual post-feminist, as she reads for comfort rather than mental and cultural development, and bases her worldviews on the exploits of her beloved fairy tale characters.  Her song tells of her hopes of seeing the world, but she gives up on this dream by agreeing to be Beast's prisoner, and then again at the film's conclusion, when she becomes the Prince's wife.  Once more, Belle has had to forfeit her aspirations in favour of those of the people around her; even if she is perceived by the viewer as intelligent, this does not benefit her in the ways McRobbie suggests it should, for as Murphy claims, she does not gain social or economic independence, but is trapped by the needs of the Prince, within the custodial walls of his castle:

The abandonment of that wider world in exchange for princesshood reinscribes the validity of androcentric promotion of escapism as the answer to the contemporary cultural debate about the nature of gender relationships – the smart woman gets the prince not by dint of her intellect but by means of her self-sacrificing devotion and love. (1995:133-134)

McRobbie's hypothesis goes on to pronounce that, when women achieve what they believe to be freedom in the workplace, they do so at a price since, not only is this liberation limited, but it acts as consolation for the remaining inequalities that are yet to be addressed.  One area in which women are entitled to greater participation is consumerism, which goes hand-in-hand with financial independence.

By taking on economic responsibilities, and being targeted as powerful consumers, as previously detailed by Tasker, women are coerced into thinking that they can readily make their own decisions surrounding such spheres as appearance, home-life, and employment.  Plus, as a product of the sex trade's blending into popular culture, the taboos of talking about sex, and wearing make-up and revealing clothing, have been removed; resulting in women feeling confident and authoritative when shopping.  The media takes advantage of this modern relationship that women have with their bodies, and advises them on how to improve themselves to obtain personal satisfaction, and to appeal to the male gaze.  Therefore, femininity is sold as a commodity that women are willing to buy into since consumption is an enjoyable and restorative act, and this is further demonstrated by the rise of the makeover, where women who are unhappy with their outer selves are applauded for making changes that fit with social acceptability; explained by McRobbie here:

The authoritative voice of consumer culture is intimate, cajoling and also encouraging […].  By generating body dissatisfaction, the beauty and fashion industries respond directly to the fraught state of non-identity which we all inhabit and which is predicated on unfathomable loss, a loss which is incurred at the cost of acquiring language and sexual identity.  The young woman is congratulated, reprimanded and encouraged to embark on a new regime of self-perfectibility (i.e. self-completion) in the hope of making good this loss.  (2009:62-63)

Both Belle and Ariel indulge in consumerist fantasies of escape from the limitations of their lives, with the outside world symbolising the same promises of freedom and wish-fulfilment that Disney proffers.  Disney is a site of mass commodification and extensive marketing campaigns, which will be evaluated shortly, and for a viewer to enjoy the 'benefits' that the studio assures, they need to buy into the company; exchanging independent beliefs for a patriarchally manufactured product.

Ariel is the most obvious consumer of the two, with her collection of shipwreck finds standing as a visual metaphor for her yearning to belong to a more industrious environment.  In 'Part of That World', Ariel sings of wanting more than she has, which is in reference to her coveting of human legs, for she believes that if she can run and dance, she will belong.  Byrne and McQuillan claim that dancing is directly related to the consumerist modes of fashion and beauty (1999:25), and it could be further argued that Ariel sees legs as a means of escaping her father's oppressive rules, and achieving independence; demonstrated in the following lyrics:

'Betcha on land they understand.  Bet they don't reprimand their daughters.  Bright young women, sick of swimming, ready to stand.' (Clements & Musker, 1989)

Ariel wants to physically change herself to fit with what is regarded as beautiful in the outside world, because she thinks that this is the only way she can attain autonomy and happiness.  Ariel's transformation has interesting parallels with the makeover phenomenon in feminine culture, and Tasker's writings highlight the pressure on women to make themselves as attractive as possible in order to concur with societal norms.  The fact that the alteration does not hurt, unlike the agony that Andersen's mermaid experiences, suggests to the female spectator that such sacrifices are relatively painless, and that modifying their bodies is an acceptable part of the journey towards satisfaction, desirability and success.

At a time when plastic surgery is commonplace for women who are unhappy with their figures, and made to feel additionally self-conscious by the media's fetishisation of perfection, Disney insinuates that complete adaptation is key to accomplishing admission into male-dominated society.  Ariel's love for Eric is simultaneously love for what he possesses; legs, and the products of his world that she treasures.  In this respect, and as Nadel argues, Ariel's longing for change is representative of patriarchy's personification of the ideal woman, and her shallow need to have everything she lacks:

'For Ariel, in other words, humans are fetishized objects, attractive because of their material possessions and attractive like them.' (1997:92)

Even before her human makeover, Ariel is sexualised, wearing only seashells or 'cupcakes' (Sendac in Millar, 1997:9) over her breasts, and with copious amounts of billowing red hair:

It is no accident that Ariel resembles the fashion dolls that have become so popular with adolescent girls for, as well as wanting to look a certain way, the mermaid is Disney's superlative marketing device; selling the corporation's 'Princess' brand as a lifestyle choice.

Hutcheon states that a film's broad range of merchandise allows children to re-enact their own versions of the tales that they have seen on screen; tapping into their infinite imaginations, and forming another type of adaptation.  Children are persuaded to participate in, and take ownership of, the stories, and Disney aids this process by bringing together its dolls under the umbrella of the 'Princess' trademark.  This is justified, according to Worthington, as it apparently makes it easier for children to create more extensive make-believe worlds by having the characters cross over and interact, which means that favourites do not need to be picked, and profits therefore rise. 

Since these dolls are undoubtedly based on the media's limiting view of the perfect woman, with Bell drawing comparisons between Ariel and Farrah Fawcett (1995:110), while the figures are supposed to stand as blueprints for their owners, there is consequently a blurring between reality and fantasy.  The dolls' stick thin torsos, shiny hair and flawlessly made-up faces, coupled with their endless accessories, promotes consumerism in its most primitive form; the need to appeal, acquire, and achieve.  Walter draws attention to this obscuring of 'doll' and 'real girl' as follows:

This strange melding of the doll and the real girl can continue way beyond childhood.  Living a doll's life seems to have become an aspiration for many young women, as they leave childhood behind only to embark on a project of grooming, dieting and shopping that aims to achieve the bleached, waxed, tinted look of a Bratz or Barbie doll. (2010:2)

Disney uses its toys to erase the memories of the fairy tales that it has adapted, by encouraging children to play out the stories as presented to them by the studio, and to sell an idyllic existence that is founded upon patriarchy, capitalism, and consumerism. 

While it could be debated that the sexiness of these dolls is in accordance with the changing attitude towards femininity, and the freedoms that have allegedly been granted, it may be suggested that, actually, they indicate that for a girl to be successful, she must look like them; sacrificing any sense of independence in order to conform with society's predetermined conventions of glamour.

Bibliography:

Bell, E., Hass, L. & Sells, L. (eds.) (1995) From Mouse To Mermaid: The Politics of Film, Gender and Culture, Indiana University Press: Indiana.

― Bell, E. 'Somatexts at the Disney Shop', p.107-125.

― Jeffords, S. 'The Curse of Masculinity: Disney's Beauty and the Beast', p.161-172.

― Murphy, D. P. '"The Whole Wide World Was Scrubbed Clean" The Androcentric Animation of Denatured Disney', p.125-137.

― Sells, L. 'Where Do the Mermaids Stand?  Voice and Body in The Little Mermaid', p.175-192.

― Zipes, J. 'Breaking the Disney Spell', p.21-42.

Byrne, E. & McQuillan, M. (1999) Deconstructing Disney, Pluto Press: London

Hutcheon, L. (2006) A Theory of Adaptation, Routledge: New York.

Le Prince de Beaumont, J. M. (2008) Beauty and the Beast, Forgotten Books.

McRobbie, A. (2009) The Aftermath of Feminism: Gender, Culture and Social Change, SAGE Publications: London.

Millar, P. (1997) 'Plunder - Disney Tears up Our Heritage' in: The European Issue, August 28-September 3, p.8-12.

Nadel, A. (1997) 'The Pretty Woman, The Little Mermaid, and the Working Girl Become "Part of That World", in: Flatlining on the Field of Dreams: Cultural Narratives in the Films of President Reagan's America, Rutgers University Press: New Brunswick, New Jersey and London, p.86-113.

Petrie, D. (ed.) (1993) Cinema and the Realms of Enchantment, BFI: London.

― Warner, M. 'The Uses of Enchantment: Lecture at the National Film Theatre, 7 February 1992, p.13-35.

― Warner, M. 'Women against Women in the Old Wives' Tale: Internal PFI Seminar, 26 February 1992', p.63-84.

Propp, V.  Morphology of the Folktale (1968) Indiana University Press: USA.

Trites, R. (1990/1991) 'Disney's Sub/Version of The Little Mermaid', in: Journal of Popular Television and Film Vol. 18, p.145-159

Walter, N. (1998) The New Feminism, Little, Brown: London.

Walter, N. (2010) Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism, Virago Press: London.

Warner, M. (1994) From The Beast To The Blonde: On Fairy Tales and Their Tellers, Random House: London.

White, S. (1993) 'Split Skins: Female Agency and Bodily Mutilation in The Little Mermaid' in: Collins, J.; Radner, H.; & Preacher Collins, A. (eds.) Film Theory Goes to the Movies, Routledge: London, p.182-196.

Worthington, M. (2009) 'The Motherless "Disney Princess": Marketing Mothers out of the Picture' in: Hall, A. C. & Bishop, M. J. (eds.) Mommy Angst: Motherhood in American Popular Culture, ABC-Clio, LLC: California, p.29-46.