Guest Post: Beauty and the Beast: A Feminist Tale?

by Kristin, of Tales of Faerie

[Kristin is a long-standing fairy tale blogger, and I consider her the authority on Beauty and the Beast among the fairy tale blogging community.  So consider how honored we are that she is writing a guest post for SSiG on that very topic!  Kristin writes very thoughtful, scholarly reflections, complete with quotes, sources, and references, and is always well read and well informed.  If you're not a follower already, there's plenty more from her on her blog, Tales of Faerie.--Christie]

One of the fascinating aspects of common interpretations of Beauty and the Beast is how people can come to such vastly opposite conclusions on its messages concerning gender roles.

There's the camp who finds it anti-feminist.  Among these arguments, there are some that come from those who are only familiar with the Disney version, and those that are actually familiar with the French version.  A common complaint I've heard about the Disney movie is that it promotes abusive relationships--the Beast is so selfish and violent, and girls shouldn't be encouraged to go for the "bad boy" because in real life it won't end so happily ever after.

Edmund Dulac

While it's definitely true that modern girls tend to be fascinated--probably too much so--by the thrill of a dangerous relationship (hello, Twilight?), I think the Disney version does a pretty good job of showing us that the Beast modifies his behavior towards Belle BEFORE she falls in love with him.  More convincing, in my opinion, than Flynn's "transformation" in Tangled. . .  Plus, I do like the interesting twist it brings the story that the Beast's appearance is dictated by the state of his heart.  At the time the Disney movie came out, this was a creative choice, and now it's the only interpretation of the Beast's curse most people are familiar with.  (The children's book by Marianna and Mercer Mayer had used this concept, before Disney--I don't know how widespread that version was at the time.)

Then there are those who actually know the story on which the Disney version was originally based--the famous one by Madame de Beaumont.  In this version the Beast was cursed not as a punishment for his behavior, but out of spite (the Beamont doesn't explain much more than this, but the Villeneuve version, on which the Beaumont is based, goes into much more detail. . .).  However, many feminists dislike the concept that Beauty is rewarded over and over again for being submissive.  She was so willing to sacrifice her life for her father, and some people think he doesn't put up enough of a fight about his daughter going to what he thinks will be her death.  I personally think that for the purposes of moving the plot along, however, he does his fair share of protesting.  Other animal bridegroom tales feature fathers that are far too willing--even eager--to sacrifice their daughter to an animal for material gain, but not the father from Beauty and the Beast.

Edmund Dulac

Jerry Griswold explains: "A first generation of feminist critics condemned the tales as reflections of a patriarchal culture and found abundant evidence in them of the victimization of women.  However, a second generation of feminists...came to endorse them as female stories and saw in these "old wives' tales" visions of feminine empowerment."

Especially when we look at the tale in context, the female empowerment is really quite shocking.  The idea that a woman should love and obey her father was the norm for the time, but throughout the story Beauty demonstrates something that was NOT the norm--her power of choice.  It is she who insists on going to the Beast's in her father's place, DESPITE his protests--rebelling against her father's will, which was very counter-cultural.  The Beast cannot force her to marry him--he simply asks patiently, night after night, if she will marry him, and quietly (submissively, even!) accepts her rejections.

Betsy Hearne points out that Beaumont's/Villeneuve's version of this story is different than its predecessors in that there is no episode where the female, like Psyche from Cupid and Psyche, is given a command to follow, and because of her disobedience and curiosity, she must complete impossible tasks and undertake a difficult journey to earn back her husband.  In Beauty and the Beast, it is the Beast who must do the earning.

Edmund Dulac

Also significant is the fact that Beauty is educated and intelligent, which would not necessarily have been assumed for a woman in the 18th century.

Beaumont's tale, however, is just one version in an evolution of the Animal Bridegroom tale which has been circulating among humans for at least thousands of years.  In certain cultures, such as feminist writers in 18th century France, but also especially today among fairy tale writers, the plot was used to explore gender roles and expectations.  In cultures where daughters were denied autonomy and often sentenced to miserable marriages, the idea of a girl being given over to an animal as his wife may have been a way of protesting against cultural standards.  Villeneuve, Beaumont, and many modern authors (Angela Carter and Robin McKinley for starters) have used the plot to explore different possibilities for romantic roles and relationships.  Versions that end with the Beast turning into a proper gentleman use the idea that the woman has the power to free her man, according to the literal details of the story, or perhaps change a brutish man into a kind and loving husband.  Yet more recent versions play around with the idea of the Beauty character accepting the Beast for who he is--in some versions he doesn't transform--in others Beauty becomes more animalistic like him, an idea usually linked to the female being free to indulge in her own sexual desires.  Marina Warner says, "At a fundamental level, 'Beauty and the Beast' in numerous variations forms a group of tales which work out this basic plot, moving from the terrifying encounter with Otherness, to its acceptance, or, in some versions of the story, its annihilation.  In either case, the menace of the Other has been met, dealt with and exorcised by the end of the fairy tale . . . the terror has been faced and chased; the light shines in the dark places."

So this fairy tale is about romantic love, but it is also about much more.  Though some people argue we should not expose children to the old-fashioned value systems of the canonized fairy tale literature, I think it's essential to remember how far we've come as a culture, and not to take for granted our current situation. But ultimately, it is simply a beautiful story.  To quote Betsy Hearne again, "The strong story is greater than any of its tellings. The core elements remain because they are magnetic to each other, structurally, and to people, variably but almost universally."

Artist Spotlight

Athina K. Poda

Pseudonym Achen089 on deviantART, a traditional artist from Greece, Ms. Poda has a gift for conjuring three dimensions from those sacred two-dimensional collections of words that we call stories.  

Beauty and the Beast

A visionary for Middle Earth and Narnia (oh yeah, and Hogwarts--are you paying attention now?), she has also created a fairy tale series that is both very realistic and original.  In my opinion, not an easy thing to accomplish.

The Little Mermaid

Fairy tales lend themselves well to stylized artistic depictions, and that seems to have been the trend in the last half of the 20th century.  But Ms. Poda's style reminds me of the the more realistic, albeit unnaturally graceful, illustrations of the early 1900's.

Snow White

Some of her fairy tale paintings seem to reveal knowledge of the composition of the literary tales, placing the costuming and background in their corresponding geographical areas and time periods.

The Princess and the Frog

The soft watercolors over pencil sketches, with white (ink?) highlights give all her pieces a dreamy, floaty look.  How appropriate!

I also detect a slight art nouveau influence.  (But what do I know?)

You can support this fairy tale artist by purchasing from her etsy shop or commissioning her. 

Note:  The main function of the fairy tale, poetry, and artist spotlights is to bring attention to and support and encourage fledgling fairy tale creators .  If you or anyone you know writes or illustrates fairy tales, is not published or well-known, and would like to be featured, please contact me or leave a comment.

The Domestication of Dwarfs

Sooner or later, everyone weighs in on Disney.

Like almost every American born in the late nineteenth century, Disney fairy tales were a major and influential aspect of my childhood.  Though I was able to place them, growing up, alongside the originals, and for that, I am very relieved and grateful.

Walt Disney's re-imaginings of fairy tales are in many ways very significant, moving works of art.  Especially in the early motion pictures, with such scenes as a horrifyingly beautiful face staring, bloodless, into a magic mirror; a horned sorceress splitting her skin to reveal a hideous, fire-breathing worm; high-Gothic, stained glass windows unfolding a haunting story of a spoiled prince and a hag-turned-Fury. 

Still, there is something essential missing from Disney's versions that leads people in search of fairy tale purity, opening up an astounding world of murderous mothers, incestuous fathers, and bittersweetly-ever-after endings.

Some claim it is the perpetuation of submissive female stereotypes, or the happy lie of the American dream, or the inherent materialism and marketing woven within the plots themselves.

After some consideration, I have come to the conclusion that Disney leaves me unfulfilled, and wanting for a distinct and primary folkloric ingredient: that sense of other-worldliness, or just-beyond-the-surface, of step-upon-this-feather-and-cities-will-crumble subtext beneath most fairy tales that resonatse so deeply within, that we find it hard to name, or even recognize in the first place.*

I'll illustrate using the movies with which I am most familiar.

C.S. Lewis admitted that Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs has moments of real magic, brushes with Faerie, such as when gnarled tree branches become grasping arms tearing at Snow White's dress.  But he also called Disney's dwarfs "vulgar."

I can't speak for Professor Lewis, but I suspect it has something to do with (what I call) the dwarfs' domestication.  Other than their stature and occupation, Doc and company retain nothing of their original mysteriousness: dwarfs as precarious, ugly beings who are, at best, tentative allies of mortal men, bestowing glittering gifts from the deep, but also capable of vindictive tempers and nefarious tricks--certainly not who you'd want to wake up to at night after losing your way in the wilderness.

by Brian Froud and Alan Lee

In Sleeping Beauty, the hosts of fairies honoring the birth of a human child, even a princess, lends a sense of awed caution: as if one ought to draw breath carefully, lest the exquisite and dangerous beings vanish, or worse.  Rather, these creatures, of which Yeats said

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,
For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the disheveled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame

are tamed and filtered until there is nothing left but three plump, middle-aged (though well-intentioned) goofballs with tiny wings and magic wands.  I suspect that in the original story, the wicked fairy that put a curse on Briar Rose was hardly discernible from those who bestowed blessings--it was just the unfortunate king and queen's mistake to miss an invitation and incur the wrath of one of the fickle Folk.

Elf King, artist unknown

Similarly, the fairy godmother in Cinderella is scatter-brained, with a huge pink bow beneath her chin, like something borrowed from Aunt Pittypat in Gone with the Wind.  She misplaces her wand and stammers magical nonsense: bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.  She might as well say goo goo ga ga.**  Where is the tall, perilous creature, as beautiful as she is old and dangerous as she is benevolent, appearing before the weeping cinder girl, so that the child is struck speechless merely to behold such a vision before her, much less have her at her service to grant her deepest heart's desire?

Fair Helena, Arthur Rackham

To quote Taio Cruze, "it goes on and on and on."

The eerie, invisible servants from Beauty and the Beast are Broadway-performing furniture and dining pieces.  Instead of longing for an immortal human soul, highlighting the otherness of the mermaid (that strange and beautiful creature!), Ariel just wants to walk on land with a cute boy her daddy forbids her to date.

I want magic in my fairy tales.  And by magic, I mean the unfamiliar.  And by the unfamiliar, I mean the familiar caught off-guard: something beautiful and strange and so just-out-of-memory that my heart aches.***




* If Disney does attempt this at all, it attempts it (with varying degrees of success) with the villains.
** Disney is trying to make fairy tales which society deems "suitable for children," and it's hard to strike the right balance.  I don't claim that these depictions of fairies aren't appropriate given their audience, or that I know how to better go about pleasing everyone.
*** There's an opportunity here to explore the philosophical nature of "beauty," what makes something (a story or poem, a painting or song) objectively beautiful, is it interchangeable with the sublime, etc.  But that's a bit too far out of the realm of this blog!