THE SWORD IN THE STONE
Origin: The Once and Future King by T.H. White
Summary: Merlin the Magician teaches a young boy who is destined to be King Arthur. - Imdb.com
Length: 79 minutes
Rating: G
Date of Original Release: 1963
Director: Wolfgang Reitherman
Writers: T.H. White; Bill Peet
Art Director: Ken Anderson
Music: George Bruns
Cast
WART/ARTHUR - Rickie Sorensen, Richard Reitherman, Robert Reitherman
MERLIN - Karl Swenson
ARCHIMEDES - Junius Matthews
SIR ECTOR - Sebastian Cabot
KAY - Norman Alden
SIR PELINORE - Alan Napier
MADAM MIM / OLD LADY SQUIRREL - Martha Wentworth
LITTLE GIRL SQUIRREL - Ginny Tyler
Plot & Commentary
We open our story with an annoying song that tells us that when the king of England died, the only way to avoid war was by way of a miracle in London: a sword in a stone. Whoever could pull it out would be king. Since the English are pretty puny, no one succeeds, and since their short term memory is comparable to a sparrow’s (no hate mail!), they forget about it for a long time. Color me unimpressed by British perseverance. No wonder they lost the American colonies (no hate mail!). “Without law and without order, the strong preyed upon the weak.” For goodness sake—instead of showing us riots and the poverty-stricken streets of London, we zoom into a FOREST and watch a squirrel fight for its life against a wolf and a hawk. NO, DISNEY. Human law has ZERO effect on animal law! Oh, this movie is going to set me off, I know it already.
A wizard—he’s got the hat—complains while pulling a bucket out of a well. There’s no plumbing and no electricity. Then he almost falls in the well. Then he gets his foot caught in the chain. He sloshes water all over. Then he kicks the chain in irritation. Though he has no one to compete with yet, this guy (Merlin, I assume) just became my favorite character in this movie. I have had so many days like this. My whole week has been like this. Where’s my bottle of whiskey? That will make us both feel better. “Everything complicated! One big medieval mess!” Door slams.
Inside, the wizard pulls the table up to his chair. Haha. His pet owl aggravates me. Merlin predicts the arrival of a scrawny kid. In his pipe smoke we see a sturdy young man; a skinny boy runs after him. This delights Merlin. “He’s a regula little grahshoppa! Haha, look at him go!” Merlin looks like everyone’s ideal version of a grandfather: floppy white hair, bushy eyebrows and expressive moustache, long beard, wiry spectacles.
The sturdy youth of the smoke image finds Wart (the grasshopper) irritating. Bunion, which is what I’m calling the sturdy youth until they provide me with a name, is trying to hunt. Bambi’s mother appears across the way but she manages to live to get shot another day when Wart falls on Bunion and the arrow goes awry. Infuriated, Bunion threatens to wring Wart’s neck. This seems a little extreme. And oh my word, these fake English accents are killing me. I don’t know if I’m going to last the movie if they keep this up. Wart is pretty cute, with blond hair and a skinny little body and pointy chin. He’s going through some intense puberty; his voice cracks atrociously. When my brother’s voice changed, it was a constant source of delight to my sister and me. Every time he said “Mom” it sounded like a goose honking. Wart tells Bunion that he’ll retrieve the arrow even though the forest is full of wolves hungry for something more substantial than squirrel. Never mind that Bunion has about twenty arrows to spare. This boy is laying a good foundation for being entered as an idiot in my book—but remember, we have a wizardly prophecy to uphold. He can’t help that he’s in a Disney plot.
A wolf straight out of Peter and the Wolf spies the boy tripping (literally) through the forest and hunts him unsuccessfully. I don’t have the heart to tell the wolf that Wart is the toothpick, not the entrée. Wart find the arrow stuck in a tree and climbs after it, but manages to fall off the branch, right through Merlin’s [poorly thatched, clearly] roof into the chair set up for him. Introductions. “My name is Arthur, but everyone calls me Wart.” ARTHUR, EH? More terrible accents. Where’s my whiskey bottle?
Merlin has been to the future. He has a tiny steam locomotive. I wish Star Wars had existed when this movie was made. Can you imagine Merlin modeling a Darth Vader helmet? Hey, medieval countrymen, I’ve got something that’ll really freak you out! Arthur compliments the wizard’s vast knowledge, which sets Merlin’s eyes twinkling. Aw, a crinkly eyes smile—I love those things. The two start to bond. Arthur keeps staring at Merlin with these huge eyes that are, quite frankly, concerning me. Like he’s been awake for two days straight and then someone gave him a double-shot latte. Wart/Arthur is training to be a squire. Merlin wants him to have a real education. He starts yelling at the enchanted sugar jar dumping sugar in his teacup, which I am only mentioning because the line is such a gem: “WHEN! WHEN! Impudent piece of crockery.” Oh Merlin, I just want to be your best friend!
Arthur pokes the sugar jar, which raps him on the hand. He stands to depart, thinks twice, and grabs another cookie. Wise move. I just gave a cartoon character the nod. Wart needs to get back to the castle kitchens. Merlin takes this in stride and pulls out a travel bag, intending to accompany him. “You watch now, you’ll like this.” He tells everything in his cottage that it’s time to pack up. “Books are always first.” I CONCUR. Everything picks itself up and floats into the bag. Once again I am struck with Mary Poppins envy. Sometimes all I want from life is the ability to point at something and watch while it automatically goes where it belongs.
The sugar bowl causes a traffic jam among the floating crockery when it starts a sibling-like scuffle. [Thanks to the whiskey] I find this incredibly funny. The bric-a-brac shrinks itself and loads itself into the bag. Merlin sings an unintelligible song and concludes with a flourish—“This is the best part now”—which ends with him sitting on his rear, chuckling.
ARTHUR: What a way to pack!
MERLIN: Well… well now, just a minute boy, how else would you get all this stuff
into this suitcase, I’d like to know.
ARTHUR: Oh, but I think it’s wonderful!
MERLIN: Oh. Yes it is, rather!
I am now gripped by magic packing envy. I HATE packing. I also want Merlin for a roommate. Nothing would make me happier than to have him toddling around my house lost in his own world or sitting on the couch, poking things and chuckling. When he's not, you know, cleaning up and packing my stuff.
Merlin clarifies that magic will not solve all your problems (he just proved this statement false) and Arthur informs him that he has none. Merlin: “Bah! Everyone has problems, the world is full of problems.” He gets his beard stuck in the cottage door and then it gets wound around his face. “GAH!” If his frustration wasn’t so familiar, and the complications so hilarious, I would be complaining about pratfalls—but the gags are getting gold stars thus far.
Does Arthur want to be all muscle and no brain? “I don’t have any muscle!” Which is why that stupid wolf is following you again? Merlin’s stand is that mental strength is the real power. “Higher learning!!!” He goes skimming nimbly through the forest. Merlin’s boxers are neon pink. If I wasn’t already his #1 fan, I would be now. The wolf gets decked by water and falling boulders while Merlin bounds through the forest roaring, “How do you ever expect to amount to anything without an education, I’d like to know! Even in these bungling, backward medieval times, you have got to know where you’re going! Don’t you?!” Bill Peet was obviously in the middle of dealing with a child who wanted to pursue their music career instead of going to college. “You must plan for the future, boy, you have got to find a direction!” We’ve covered this already, Merlin: Arthur’s a page. The walking soapbox halts—
MERLIN: Uh… Now, by the by, what direction is this castle of yours?
ARTHUR: I think it’s north, the other way.
MERLIN: Oh. Oh. Ggigigigbyshbturalgl.*All right then we better get a move on. Come on
come on lad, pick up the pace, pick it up pick it up pick it up!
*sputtering
And his feet turn into skis again. The wolf wheezes to the top of the hill they’ve just left, sees them returning the way they came, and collapses. I hope that means we’re finished with this subplot.
Arthur’s castle is legit. It has a moat and a drawbridge. Inside, Bunion’s father is pacing. He looks exactly like the servant version of King Hubert with orange hair. Bunion shrugs off responsibility for “the wart’s” care, but his father claims it. He took in Orphan Wart and he's going to do right by him, by golly. At this moment the wart himself enters. The mastiffs, Tiger and Talbot, launch themselves ecstatically at him. I speak from experience when I say there is nothing like a dog who loves you greeting you home. Merlin wanders in behind him. Bunion’s father (“Fat Papa”) gives Wart extra kitchen duty. They should also hire a fleet of Cinderellas. I’m just saying. Wart scurries off.
FAT PAPA: Need strict rules, especially for small boys!
MERLIN'S CRANKY OWL: And I most certainly agree!
Fat Papa, who just heard the bird talk, bursts into laughter at the idea of an educated owl. This is probably to set the stage for the resistance to Wart’s education that will be occurring in about five minutes (I can make predictions too, Merlin).
MERLIN: I happen to be the world’s most powerful wizard!
FAT PAPA: Hoo hoo! Come off it, man! Gadzooks!
Challenge accepted. Merlin, haven’t you learned to rise above taunts like this? He makes a “wizard blizzard” and convinces Fat Papa by turning him into a human snowman. Bunion, a.k.a. The Carnivore, referred to some as “Kay” but not by me, continues to stuff his face, because we’re supposed to hate him. It’s working.
MERLIN: I have come to educate the wart.
Fat Papa doesn’t like the sound of this. Merlin plays some mind games with him and gets invited to stay at the castle. He’s lodged in a crumbling tower, and then it STARTS TO RAIN. Of course.
MERLIN: “Best room in the house.” If he thinks he’s getting rid of me, I’ve got news
for that old walrus! I’m sticking it out!
He makes fun of the soaking wet owl and laughs at his own joke. Merlin. Never change. The wizard observes the arrival of Sir Pelinore, who has big news from London. Merlin threatens to turn Archimedes into a homosapien unless the owl goes eavesdropping. I’m just wondering why the most powerful wizard in the world is still standing in a leaky tower and has to send a bird to spy for him.
Fat Papa is thrilled to see Pelinore—who carries himself just like King Stefan—I am just saying—and they settle in for a gossip session. You should know that Arthur and Archimedes are both in the room during this conversation. Fat Papa’s name is Ector. Seriously? Is this more crap English accentry? The big news is that the winner of the new year’s tournament will be made King of England. Fat Papa immediately turns to Bunion, who lazily agrees that it’s a passable reward. Fat Papa decides Bunion is going to win the tourney. Bunion: “Sure. Why not?” Wart is told he can go along as Bunion’s squire and excitedly falls down the stairs in a crash of dishes. Bunion doesn’t want Wart as his squire. The knights ignore him. It pisses me off that Bunion is Kay, because I have always loved Arthurian legend and if there’s anything I know it's that Sir Kay was not the smug punkface waffle iron this moronic ginger is.
Dawn. Bunion is in tourney training and he’s terrible. He crashes into the tower, which wakes Merlin.
MERLIN: Hjyahaaarchimedes! Archimedes, where where where where are we?!
CRANKY OWL: In a tumbledown old tower in the most miserable old castle in all Christendom!
MERLIN: Castle? Castle?
CRANKY OWL: Don’t you even remember the boy?
Of COURSE not, Archimedes! I got the whiskey out, remember? Outside, Bunion is being reloaded onto his horse. Pelinore informs him that it’s not a matter of muscle—“jousting is a fine skill,” a science. I sense a theme coming on. Merlin observes that Arthur throws himself heart and soul into everything he does. Archimedes doubts that Arthur’s potential can be turned in the right direction. But… why not? Never mind, anyway, because Merlin has plans to cheat and use magic to achieve his ends. Don't ask me.
Arthur tells Merlin his hopes and dreams of white chargers and slain dragons. Since he’s lineage-less he can’t be a knight. The English feudal system was so screwed up. The animators of old got adventurous with this segment, showing most of this conversation in the reflection of the moat water. Merlin tells Arthur that if he can imagine himself as a fish, the rest of it should be covered by magic. This is a rather bizarre theory. Archimedes is grumpy because he was out all night. Arthur: “Then he must stay out every night.” It takes a second for Merlin to get it, and then he laughs like Arthur just turned into Jerry Seinfeld. The spell for turning into a fish, for those of you who would like to try, is “Aquarious aquaticus aqualitus qwum, aquadigitonium.” Someone tell J.K. Rowling. FishArthur has a spike of hair and FishMerlin has spectacles. Heh.
MERLIN: Thought you could take off like a shot, did you?
ARTHUR: Well, I am a fish, aren’t I?
MERLIN: You merely look like a fish.
In other words, Arthur has no natural aptitude for fish-hood. He’ll have to use his brain!!! Ahahaha oh, it all comes together. FishMerlin teaches FishArthur how to swim. He sings a quaint song and everyone has a good time.
The point of the rest of the song is that the strong will try to conquer Arthur and they’ll succeed unless he can outthink them. This lesson is immediately put to the test when FishMerlin gets stuck in the knight’s helmet that numbers among the objects littering the moat floor and a huge pike starts chasing FishArthur. Merlin won’t make him a human—he tells Arthur to use his brain. Arthur lodges a broken arrow into the pike’s mouth and shoots back to Merlin. “Is the lesson about over?”
Merlin can’t remember the counter spell. Of course! (whiskey). The pike hunts Arthur and Archimedes has to come to the rescue. After a long chase, they manage to make it to land. Merlin stumbles out of the water with the helmet on his head. He returns Wart to his human form. I like the detail that Merlin and Archimedes are soaking wet but Wart, since he was made human out of the water, is dry. This is convenient, since Fat Papa starts hollering for him. Merlin, amused, wonders why the cranky owl saved the boy’s life.
Arthur, shut up. He’s telling a dumbfounded Fat Papa about his adventures in the moat.
BUNION: Tell him off, Dad.
Fat Papa gives Wart six more hours of kitchen work for being late and telling fish tales. There are masses of dishes in the kitchen, which boggles my mind because it is not physically possible for only three people to make such a mess. Wart sings the "To and Fro" song cheerfully as he scrubs a cauldron. Merlin shows up.
MERLIN: Have you ever considered being a squirrel?
Merlin reveals that the squirrel’s whole life is a problem. It’s hazardous and dangerous. It’s not the danger that keeps Arthur from getting truly enthusiastic about this idea—it’s the kitchen work ahead of him. Merlin flicks his wand and the dishes start cleaning themselves. Arthur, helplessly fair, says: “But I’m supposed to do it.” Catch your break, kid! Merlin is happy to. They leave the mops and sponges running and get out of dodge.
SquirrelWart goes speeding along tree limbs. SquirrelMerlin, a cautious climber, hobbles from branch to branch. Yep, that’s me. Heights are not my fancy. Handle them with care. Merlin is an old gray squirrel (with spectacles) and Wart is a young brown thing. Merlin: “Don’t take gravity too lightly or it will catch up with you.” Arthur scampers away from his gravity lesson and runs into a pretty red squirrel. She chatters at him and won’t let him pass. He hasn’t gotten that far into puberty, honey. The girl squirrel will not be sidetracked. Arthur has NO CLUE how to handle this. Merlin leaves him high and dry—“You’re on your own, lad! I have no idea how to solve this problem.” There’s a friend for you. Arthur pushes her over and runs away. She follows him and happily pushes him over. I would love for this squirrel to somehow become Guinevere.
Merlin sings a song (while laughing his head off) (let’s be honest, I’m laughing my head off too) while watching the girl squirrel chase Arthur around in the trees. The wolf shows up (I know) and spies SquirrelArthur. He begins salivating. Arthur falls onto Archimedes, then disturbs a nesting woodpecker, and runs back into the arms of the female squirrel. And repeat scene.
A very fat red squirrel finds SquirrelMerlin and disturbs his song about how love makes no sense by grabbing his tail. “MADAM!” And Arthur has the last laugh. Or would, if he could shake his squirrel soulmate. I will just laugh for him. Right as the males decide that being a squirrel is more trouble than it’s worth, Arthur falls off yet another tree branch. His ladylove tries to save him but he plunges toward the jaws of the waiting wolf. When he gets trapped by a log (of course) she dashes to the ground and goes after the wolf, and eventually effectively saves Arthur’s life. She runs back to him and hugs him. I love how even as a squirrel Arthur makes 12-year-old-boy expressions. Merlin finally alakazams himself back to humanity.
MERLIN: You see?! I’m an ugly, horrible, grouchy old man!
MERLIN’S SQUIRREL: [angrily] Oooh!!!
He then returns Arthur to his natural form. Arthur’s squirrel is utterly crushed. She begins to cry softly and hides in her nest. And the movie ends with Arthur deciding that his life’s true calling is to be a squirrel and rescue Red from her heartbreak. They scamper through the trees together, smiling and laughing happily.
Or not.
MERLIN: That love business is a powerful thing.
ARTHUR: Greater than gravity?
MERLIN: Well, yes. I’d say it’s the greatest force on earth.
The girl squirrel climbs to a treetop and weeps huge Ariel tears while whimpering piteously as she watches Arthur walk away. I don’t even know what to say. Sad? Weird?
Jazzy music plays as the dishwashing assembly line continues to make no noticeable progress. Fat Papa calls it black magic and attacks the kitchen. The dishes obligingly fight back. Merlin arrives and halts the proceedings, then vanishes. Fat Papa won’t kick him out of the castle, per Bunion’s suggestion, because he might put a spell on them. Arthur sticks up for the wizard and his magic.
ARTHUR: Just because you can’t understand something, it doesn’t mean its wrong!
That earns Wart more labor and the loss of his job as Bunion’s squire.
Arthur sits dejectedly in the ruins of the kitchen and Merlin reappears. The wizard feels bad. They decide that one of the ways to remedy what’s happened is to start a serious educational course.
Archimedes, listening to the first lesson, highly disapproves of Merlin’s teaching methods. Merlin does some Angry Pipe Puffing and hands the job over to his owl. Archimedes orders Arthur to read a mountain of books and finds he first has to teach him to read. My mother, who is a 1st grade teacher, would be HORRIFIED to see the way that Arthur forms his letters, particularly that B. I am shuddering. Meanwhile Merlin dusts off a model airplane. He tries to demonstrate it to Arthur, but it gets caught by his beard and crashes in the moat. Witnessing this, the owl laughs so hard I’m positive he’ll give himself a stroke. He laughs so hysterically and for such a long time that now I’m sitting here laughing too. Arthur wistfully hopes that someday men will fly. He's always wished he could fly. It takes Merlin about two seconds to take care of that. Arthur’s delight is adorable: “I’m a bird I’m a bird I’m a bird!!!”
Merlin and Archimedes fight over teaching SparrowArthur how to fly. Merlin has studied the mechanics of flight. Archimedes is a bird. Archimedes wins. He clears his throat at Merlin, who clears his throat back at Archimedes. Oh, you two old geezers. I’m glad you have each other. Merlin sulks because this is turning out to be such a crummy day. I’ve got something that will help with that, Merlin. It’s called JAMESON’S. Archimedes waxes poetic over his natural ability: “It is a delicate art. Purely aesthetic. Poetry of motion!” They take a jaunt through the sky. I want to be a bird.
Unsurprisingly, a hawk on the hunt shows up. Archimedes saves Wart’s life again. Arthur had better keep this owl around when he becomes king. He’s proving more valuable than Merlin. No point in being educated if you're dead. The hawk chases SparrowArthur into the woods. Arthur lands on a cottage chimney and… FALLS… down into the fireplace. He’s picked up by a woman with atrocious purple hair and lime green eyes. Who did the character design for this one?! Arthur opens his big trap and tells her all about how he’s a real boy and that all this is thanks to Merlin. She laughs at the mention of the wizard’s name. Her name is Madam Mim and she’s the one with the real power. Madam Mim? Of all the Arthurian shoutouts in this movie, you couldn’t make her Morgana or Morgause? Archimedes arrives unnoticed and 180's like a shot, squawking “Madam Mim!” in accents of horror. She starts singing. Can I skip this scene? She can make herself as large as a house or small as a mouse. If I could do that, I would do it ALL DAY. For some reason she also stays in ugly old creep mode instead of lovely young woman mode. She wants to know how those apples stack up against Merlin. SparrowArthur is unsure.
ARTHUR: Merlin’s magic is always… well, useful. For something good.
MIM: And he must see something good in you.
ARTHUR: Oh, I suppose so.
MIM: Yes, and in my book that’s bad! So, my boy, I’m afraid I’ll have to destroy you.
ARTHUR: Destroy me?!
MIM: Yeah, I’ll give you a sporting chance. I’m mad about games, you know. Well, come on!
Get going, boy! You gotta keep on your toes in this game!
She morphs into a cat and goes after him. She catches him and he pecks her on the nose. As she’s threatening to wring his neck, Merlin arrives in a tornado of glitter. Mim challenges him to a wizards duel. They march through the woods to the beat of drums.
ARCHIMEDES: It’s a battle of wits. The players change themselves to different things in an
attempt to destroy one another. Just watch, boy, just watch. You’ll get the idea.
Rules: only animals, no make-believe animals like pink dragons (so much for Arthur’s dreams of dragonslaying), no disappearing, and no cheating.
Mim immediately breaks all the rules by vanishing and reappearing as a pink crocodile. Merlin starts as a turtle, then a rabbit, then a caterpillar. Neither of them is very good at this game. She’s a fox and then a chicken. He: walrus. She: elephant. He: mouse. Why on EARTH do people think elephants are afraid of mice? She: tiger, rattlesnake. I’m not entirely sure why I’m listing all of these out except that it’s easy to do. He: crab. She: rhino. I feel vaguely as though I’m watching The Emperor’s New Groove. He: goat. She: PURPLE DRAGON. Merlin STAYS IN MOUSE FORM. And then turns himself into a germ, which brings her down with a violent disease (don't ask me). Merlin—1, Mim—0. They leave her tucked in bed shrieking about how much she hates sunshine.
Snow on the castle. Hopefully this means the tournament will happen soon. Bunion is now Sir Bunion. Pelinore thinks the idea of King Kay is a terrible one. He is not alone. Join me for a glass, Sir P? Bunion’s replacement squire has the mumps so Arthur’s back in. He’s pretty excited and runs up to show off his squire’s uniform. Merlin is less than congratulatory: “A fine monkey suit for polishing boots!” He thought Arthur was going to amount to something. He really nails him to the wall.
MERLIN: A stooge for that big lunk Kay!
ARTHUR: [angry, tearing up] What do you want me to be?! I’m nobody! You—you don’t
know a thing about what’s going on today. I’m lucky to be Kay’s squire!
MERLIN: Oh!! Of all the idiotic—iibibihiihuh—BLOW ME TO BERMUDA!
Then he rockets out of the tower to, presumably, Bermuda. You lost a lot of points with me in this scene, Merlin.
In London, the tournament is going full swing. Arthur confesses that he forgot Bunion’s sword at the inn. He’s sent to retrieve it but the inn is locked. The owl sees a sword in the churchyard. Arthur is beside himself with relief. He runs to the stone that has a sword stuck in it.
As soon as he puts a hand to the handle, a light shines above him like he’s in an episode of Touched By an Angel. Cathedralish voices start to sing. He steps back and everything stops. He touches the sword again and it all starts again. Archimedes warns him to leave it alone and he lets go. He decides Bunion needs the sword and grabs it again. The lights and voices start up once more. This is hilarious. I would spend all day doing that, too. Arthur yanks the sword out of the rock and takes off with it down the street.
He gets back just in time: Bunion is up next. He hands over the sword. Bunion, the moron, doesn’t notice anything special about it, but his father does. Fat Papa reads the engraving and his eyes almost fall out. I have a bad feeling that they’re going to give Bunion the credit for this. Some random man with a huge black beard is all “The sword in the stone! It can’t be!” Pelinore is astounded. Black Hair: “Hold everything! Someone’s pulled the sword from the stone!” Arthur tells the truth about where he got the sword but no one believes him. These people need to go watch the Sesame Street episode of when everyone learned that Sunffleupagus was real and Big Bird wasn't just reporting some really vivid hallucinations.
Everyone goes back to the stone so that Arthur, who never lies, can prove himself honest. Fat Papa replaces the sword. Arthur rolls up his sleeve and bites his tongue in concentration—it’s quite cute—but before he can pull out the sword, Bunion shoves him away. “Anyone can pull the sword once it’s been pulled!” This won’t be the last time in his life that Bunion makes a major fool of himself. Fat Papa tries to help him. A bunch of men flock over. Black Hair and Pelinore call a halt to this—they want to see Arthur try.
Arthur puts his determination back on, grabs the handle, the music starts, the light shines, and he topples backward with the sword in his hand. The light grows and fills the courtyard (why didn't it the first time?) and everyone agrees that it’s a sign from Heaven. Arthur stares, bewildered, as the crowd chants, “Hail, King Arthur! Long live the King!” Can you imagine? Orphaned, twelve years old, your whole life you’ve been a servant, you’ve planned your future around your limits. And suddenly: KING. Archimedes is so happy he almost falls out of his tree. Too bad Merlin had to jet off to Bermuda to pout and is missing this very moving scene. Fat Papa bows his head in shame. “Forgive me, son. Forgive me.” Take note of this, viewers! Treat everyone you meet as though they’re secretly royalty. You never know, especially in cases of foster children.
Arthur sits on his throne in an empty hall, wearing a crown that’s too big for him. He’s not happy. “I can’t be king,” he tells the owl. “I don’t know anything about ruling a country.” I could give him a few tips. The owl is grieved. He told him to leave the sword there. Arthur decides to run away… but every door he tries opens to a crowd screaming his name. He wishes Merlin was there.
Wish granted! Merlin bursts into the room wearing Ray Bans, Bermuda shorts, and Converse. He reacts to the latest news like he’s already heard it, which irritates me. He reassures Arthur—he’s going to be famous! “They’ll be writing books about you for centuries to come. Why, they might even make a motion picture about you.” I’m laughing because it’s really late. Also, whiskey. He plops the crown back on Arthur’s head. The voiceover choir rapidly sings “Hail, King Arthur! Long live the king!”
It’s over!
Summary: Merlin the Magician teaches a young boy who is destined to be King Arthur. - Imdb.com
Length: 79 minutes
Rating: G
Date of Original Release: 1963
Director: Wolfgang Reitherman
Writers: T.H. White; Bill Peet
Art Director: Ken Anderson
Music: George Bruns
Cast
WART/ARTHUR - Rickie Sorensen, Richard Reitherman, Robert Reitherman
MERLIN - Karl Swenson
ARCHIMEDES - Junius Matthews
SIR ECTOR - Sebastian Cabot
KAY - Norman Alden
SIR PELINORE - Alan Napier
MADAM MIM / OLD LADY SQUIRREL - Martha Wentworth
LITTLE GIRL SQUIRREL - Ginny Tyler
Plot & Commentary
We open our story with an annoying song that tells us that when the king of England died, the only way to avoid war was by way of a miracle in London: a sword in a stone. Whoever could pull it out would be king. Since the English are pretty puny, no one succeeds, and since their short term memory is comparable to a sparrow’s (no hate mail!), they forget about it for a long time. Color me unimpressed by British perseverance. No wonder they lost the American colonies (no hate mail!). “Without law and without order, the strong preyed upon the weak.” For goodness sake—instead of showing us riots and the poverty-stricken streets of London, we zoom into a FOREST and watch a squirrel fight for its life against a wolf and a hawk. NO, DISNEY. Human law has ZERO effect on animal law! Oh, this movie is going to set me off, I know it already.
A wizard—he’s got the hat—complains while pulling a bucket out of a well. There’s no plumbing and no electricity. Then he almost falls in the well. Then he gets his foot caught in the chain. He sloshes water all over. Then he kicks the chain in irritation. Though he has no one to compete with yet, this guy (Merlin, I assume) just became my favorite character in this movie. I have had so many days like this. My whole week has been like this. Where’s my bottle of whiskey? That will make us both feel better. “Everything complicated! One big medieval mess!” Door slams.
Inside, the wizard pulls the table up to his chair. Haha. His pet owl aggravates me. Merlin predicts the arrival of a scrawny kid. In his pipe smoke we see a sturdy young man; a skinny boy runs after him. This delights Merlin. “He’s a regula little grahshoppa! Haha, look at him go!” Merlin looks like everyone’s ideal version of a grandfather: floppy white hair, bushy eyebrows and expressive moustache, long beard, wiry spectacles.
The sturdy youth of the smoke image finds Wart (the grasshopper) irritating. Bunion, which is what I’m calling the sturdy youth until they provide me with a name, is trying to hunt. Bambi’s mother appears across the way but she manages to live to get shot another day when Wart falls on Bunion and the arrow goes awry. Infuriated, Bunion threatens to wring Wart’s neck. This seems a little extreme. And oh my word, these fake English accents are killing me. I don’t know if I’m going to last the movie if they keep this up. Wart is pretty cute, with blond hair and a skinny little body and pointy chin. He’s going through some intense puberty; his voice cracks atrociously. When my brother’s voice changed, it was a constant source of delight to my sister and me. Every time he said “Mom” it sounded like a goose honking. Wart tells Bunion that he’ll retrieve the arrow even though the forest is full of wolves hungry for something more substantial than squirrel. Never mind that Bunion has about twenty arrows to spare. This boy is laying a good foundation for being entered as an idiot in my book—but remember, we have a wizardly prophecy to uphold. He can’t help that he’s in a Disney plot.
A wolf straight out of Peter and the Wolf spies the boy tripping (literally) through the forest and hunts him unsuccessfully. I don’t have the heart to tell the wolf that Wart is the toothpick, not the entrée. Wart find the arrow stuck in a tree and climbs after it, but manages to fall off the branch, right through Merlin’s [poorly thatched, clearly] roof into the chair set up for him. Introductions. “My name is Arthur, but everyone calls me Wart.” ARTHUR, EH? More terrible accents. Where’s my whiskey bottle?
Merlin has been to the future. He has a tiny steam locomotive. I wish Star Wars had existed when this movie was made. Can you imagine Merlin modeling a Darth Vader helmet? Hey, medieval countrymen, I’ve got something that’ll really freak you out! Arthur compliments the wizard’s vast knowledge, which sets Merlin’s eyes twinkling. Aw, a crinkly eyes smile—I love those things. The two start to bond. Arthur keeps staring at Merlin with these huge eyes that are, quite frankly, concerning me. Like he’s been awake for two days straight and then someone gave him a double-shot latte. Wart/Arthur is training to be a squire. Merlin wants him to have a real education. He starts yelling at the enchanted sugar jar dumping sugar in his teacup, which I am only mentioning because the line is such a gem: “WHEN! WHEN! Impudent piece of crockery.” Oh Merlin, I just want to be your best friend!
Arthur pokes the sugar jar, which raps him on the hand. He stands to depart, thinks twice, and grabs another cookie. Wise move. I just gave a cartoon character the nod. Wart needs to get back to the castle kitchens. Merlin takes this in stride and pulls out a travel bag, intending to accompany him. “You watch now, you’ll like this.” He tells everything in his cottage that it’s time to pack up. “Books are always first.” I CONCUR. Everything picks itself up and floats into the bag. Once again I am struck with Mary Poppins envy. Sometimes all I want from life is the ability to point at something and watch while it automatically goes where it belongs.
The sugar bowl causes a traffic jam among the floating crockery when it starts a sibling-like scuffle. [Thanks to the whiskey] I find this incredibly funny. The bric-a-brac shrinks itself and loads itself into the bag. Merlin sings an unintelligible song and concludes with a flourish—“This is the best part now”—which ends with him sitting on his rear, chuckling.
ARTHUR: What a way to pack!
MERLIN: Well… well now, just a minute boy, how else would you get all this stuff
into this suitcase, I’d like to know.
ARTHUR: Oh, but I think it’s wonderful!
MERLIN: Oh. Yes it is, rather!
I am now gripped by magic packing envy. I HATE packing. I also want Merlin for a roommate. Nothing would make me happier than to have him toddling around my house lost in his own world or sitting on the couch, poking things and chuckling. When he's not, you know, cleaning up and packing my stuff.
Merlin clarifies that magic will not solve all your problems (he just proved this statement false) and Arthur informs him that he has none. Merlin: “Bah! Everyone has problems, the world is full of problems.” He gets his beard stuck in the cottage door and then it gets wound around his face. “GAH!” If his frustration wasn’t so familiar, and the complications so hilarious, I would be complaining about pratfalls—but the gags are getting gold stars thus far.
Does Arthur want to be all muscle and no brain? “I don’t have any muscle!” Which is why that stupid wolf is following you again? Merlin’s stand is that mental strength is the real power. “Higher learning!!!” He goes skimming nimbly through the forest. Merlin’s boxers are neon pink. If I wasn’t already his #1 fan, I would be now. The wolf gets decked by water and falling boulders while Merlin bounds through the forest roaring, “How do you ever expect to amount to anything without an education, I’d like to know! Even in these bungling, backward medieval times, you have got to know where you’re going! Don’t you?!” Bill Peet was obviously in the middle of dealing with a child who wanted to pursue their music career instead of going to college. “You must plan for the future, boy, you have got to find a direction!” We’ve covered this already, Merlin: Arthur’s a page. The walking soapbox halts—
MERLIN: Uh… Now, by the by, what direction is this castle of yours?
ARTHUR: I think it’s north, the other way.
MERLIN: Oh. Oh. Ggigigigbyshbturalgl.*All right then we better get a move on. Come on
come on lad, pick up the pace, pick it up pick it up pick it up!
*sputtering
And his feet turn into skis again. The wolf wheezes to the top of the hill they’ve just left, sees them returning the way they came, and collapses. I hope that means we’re finished with this subplot.
Arthur’s castle is legit. It has a moat and a drawbridge. Inside, Bunion’s father is pacing. He looks exactly like the servant version of King Hubert with orange hair. Bunion shrugs off responsibility for “the wart’s” care, but his father claims it. He took in Orphan Wart and he's going to do right by him, by golly. At this moment the wart himself enters. The mastiffs, Tiger and Talbot, launch themselves ecstatically at him. I speak from experience when I say there is nothing like a dog who loves you greeting you home. Merlin wanders in behind him. Bunion’s father (“Fat Papa”) gives Wart extra kitchen duty. They should also hire a fleet of Cinderellas. I’m just saying. Wart scurries off.
FAT PAPA: Need strict rules, especially for small boys!
MERLIN'S CRANKY OWL: And I most certainly agree!
Fat Papa, who just heard the bird talk, bursts into laughter at the idea of an educated owl. This is probably to set the stage for the resistance to Wart’s education that will be occurring in about five minutes (I can make predictions too, Merlin).
MERLIN: I happen to be the world’s most powerful wizard!
FAT PAPA: Hoo hoo! Come off it, man! Gadzooks!
Challenge accepted. Merlin, haven’t you learned to rise above taunts like this? He makes a “wizard blizzard” and convinces Fat Papa by turning him into a human snowman. Bunion, a.k.a. The Carnivore, referred to some as “Kay” but not by me, continues to stuff his face, because we’re supposed to hate him. It’s working.
MERLIN: I have come to educate the wart.
Fat Papa doesn’t like the sound of this. Merlin plays some mind games with him and gets invited to stay at the castle. He’s lodged in a crumbling tower, and then it STARTS TO RAIN. Of course.
MERLIN: “Best room in the house.” If he thinks he’s getting rid of me, I’ve got news
for that old walrus! I’m sticking it out!
He makes fun of the soaking wet owl and laughs at his own joke. Merlin. Never change. The wizard observes the arrival of Sir Pelinore, who has big news from London. Merlin threatens to turn Archimedes into a homosapien unless the owl goes eavesdropping. I’m just wondering why the most powerful wizard in the world is still standing in a leaky tower and has to send a bird to spy for him.
Fat Papa is thrilled to see Pelinore—who carries himself just like King Stefan—I am just saying—and they settle in for a gossip session. You should know that Arthur and Archimedes are both in the room during this conversation. Fat Papa’s name is Ector. Seriously? Is this more crap English accentry? The big news is that the winner of the new year’s tournament will be made King of England. Fat Papa immediately turns to Bunion, who lazily agrees that it’s a passable reward. Fat Papa decides Bunion is going to win the tourney. Bunion: “Sure. Why not?” Wart is told he can go along as Bunion’s squire and excitedly falls down the stairs in a crash of dishes. Bunion doesn’t want Wart as his squire. The knights ignore him. It pisses me off that Bunion is Kay, because I have always loved Arthurian legend and if there’s anything I know it's that Sir Kay was not the smug punkface waffle iron this moronic ginger is.
Dawn. Bunion is in tourney training and he’s terrible. He crashes into the tower, which wakes Merlin.
MERLIN: Hjyahaaarchimedes! Archimedes, where where where where are we?!
CRANKY OWL: In a tumbledown old tower in the most miserable old castle in all Christendom!
MERLIN: Castle? Castle?
CRANKY OWL: Don’t you even remember the boy?
Of COURSE not, Archimedes! I got the whiskey out, remember? Outside, Bunion is being reloaded onto his horse. Pelinore informs him that it’s not a matter of muscle—“jousting is a fine skill,” a science. I sense a theme coming on. Merlin observes that Arthur throws himself heart and soul into everything he does. Archimedes doubts that Arthur’s potential can be turned in the right direction. But… why not? Never mind, anyway, because Merlin has plans to cheat and use magic to achieve his ends. Don't ask me.
Arthur tells Merlin his hopes and dreams of white chargers and slain dragons. Since he’s lineage-less he can’t be a knight. The English feudal system was so screwed up. The animators of old got adventurous with this segment, showing most of this conversation in the reflection of the moat water. Merlin tells Arthur that if he can imagine himself as a fish, the rest of it should be covered by magic. This is a rather bizarre theory. Archimedes is grumpy because he was out all night. Arthur: “Then he must stay out every night.” It takes a second for Merlin to get it, and then he laughs like Arthur just turned into Jerry Seinfeld. The spell for turning into a fish, for those of you who would like to try, is “Aquarious aquaticus aqualitus qwum, aquadigitonium.” Someone tell J.K. Rowling. FishArthur has a spike of hair and FishMerlin has spectacles. Heh.
MERLIN: Thought you could take off like a shot, did you?
ARTHUR: Well, I am a fish, aren’t I?
MERLIN: You merely look like a fish.
In other words, Arthur has no natural aptitude for fish-hood. He’ll have to use his brain!!! Ahahaha oh, it all comes together. FishMerlin teaches FishArthur how to swim. He sings a quaint song and everyone has a good time.
Don’t just wait and trust to fate
And say that’s how it’s meant to be
It’s up to you how far you go
If you don’t try, you’ll never know
And so, my lad, as I’ve explained
Nothing ventured, nothing gained
And then he chuckles for about five minutes.The point of the rest of the song is that the strong will try to conquer Arthur and they’ll succeed unless he can outthink them. This lesson is immediately put to the test when FishMerlin gets stuck in the knight’s helmet that numbers among the objects littering the moat floor and a huge pike starts chasing FishArthur. Merlin won’t make him a human—he tells Arthur to use his brain. Arthur lodges a broken arrow into the pike’s mouth and shoots back to Merlin. “Is the lesson about over?”
Merlin can’t remember the counter spell. Of course! (whiskey). The pike hunts Arthur and Archimedes has to come to the rescue. After a long chase, they manage to make it to land. Merlin stumbles out of the water with the helmet on his head. He returns Wart to his human form. I like the detail that Merlin and Archimedes are soaking wet but Wart, since he was made human out of the water, is dry. This is convenient, since Fat Papa starts hollering for him. Merlin, amused, wonders why the cranky owl saved the boy’s life.
Arthur, shut up. He’s telling a dumbfounded Fat Papa about his adventures in the moat.
BUNION: Tell him off, Dad.
Fat Papa gives Wart six more hours of kitchen work for being late and telling fish tales. There are masses of dishes in the kitchen, which boggles my mind because it is not physically possible for only three people to make such a mess. Wart sings the "To and Fro" song cheerfully as he scrubs a cauldron. Merlin shows up.
MERLIN: Have you ever considered being a squirrel?
Merlin reveals that the squirrel’s whole life is a problem. It’s hazardous and dangerous. It’s not the danger that keeps Arthur from getting truly enthusiastic about this idea—it’s the kitchen work ahead of him. Merlin flicks his wand and the dishes start cleaning themselves. Arthur, helplessly fair, says: “But I’m supposed to do it.” Catch your break, kid! Merlin is happy to. They leave the mops and sponges running and get out of dodge.
SquirrelWart goes speeding along tree limbs. SquirrelMerlin, a cautious climber, hobbles from branch to branch. Yep, that’s me. Heights are not my fancy. Handle them with care. Merlin is an old gray squirrel (with spectacles) and Wart is a young brown thing. Merlin: “Don’t take gravity too lightly or it will catch up with you.” Arthur scampers away from his gravity lesson and runs into a pretty red squirrel. She chatters at him and won’t let him pass. He hasn’t gotten that far into puberty, honey. The girl squirrel will not be sidetracked. Arthur has NO CLUE how to handle this. Merlin leaves him high and dry—“You’re on your own, lad! I have no idea how to solve this problem.” There’s a friend for you. Arthur pushes her over and runs away. She follows him and happily pushes him over. I would love for this squirrel to somehow become Guinevere.
Merlin sings a song (while laughing his head off) (let’s be honest, I’m laughing my head off too) while watching the girl squirrel chase Arthur around in the trees. The wolf shows up (I know) and spies SquirrelArthur. He begins salivating. Arthur falls onto Archimedes, then disturbs a nesting woodpecker, and runs back into the arms of the female squirrel. And repeat scene.
A very fat red squirrel finds SquirrelMerlin and disturbs his song about how love makes no sense by grabbing his tail. “MADAM!” And Arthur has the last laugh. Or would, if he could shake his squirrel soulmate. I will just laugh for him. Right as the males decide that being a squirrel is more trouble than it’s worth, Arthur falls off yet another tree branch. His ladylove tries to save him but he plunges toward the jaws of the waiting wolf. When he gets trapped by a log (of course) she dashes to the ground and goes after the wolf, and eventually effectively saves Arthur’s life. She runs back to him and hugs him. I love how even as a squirrel Arthur makes 12-year-old-boy expressions. Merlin finally alakazams himself back to humanity.
MERLIN: You see?! I’m an ugly, horrible, grouchy old man!
MERLIN’S SQUIRREL: [angrily] Oooh!!!
He then returns Arthur to his natural form. Arthur’s squirrel is utterly crushed. She begins to cry softly and hides in her nest. And the movie ends with Arthur deciding that his life’s true calling is to be a squirrel and rescue Red from her heartbreak. They scamper through the trees together, smiling and laughing happily.
Or not.
MERLIN: That love business is a powerful thing.
ARTHUR: Greater than gravity?
MERLIN: Well, yes. I’d say it’s the greatest force on earth.
The girl squirrel climbs to a treetop and weeps huge Ariel tears while whimpering piteously as she watches Arthur walk away. I don’t even know what to say. Sad? Weird?
Jazzy music plays as the dishwashing assembly line continues to make no noticeable progress. Fat Papa calls it black magic and attacks the kitchen. The dishes obligingly fight back. Merlin arrives and halts the proceedings, then vanishes. Fat Papa won’t kick him out of the castle, per Bunion’s suggestion, because he might put a spell on them. Arthur sticks up for the wizard and his magic.
ARTHUR: Just because you can’t understand something, it doesn’t mean its wrong!
That earns Wart more labor and the loss of his job as Bunion’s squire.
Arthur sits dejectedly in the ruins of the kitchen and Merlin reappears. The wizard feels bad. They decide that one of the ways to remedy what’s happened is to start a serious educational course.
Archimedes, listening to the first lesson, highly disapproves of Merlin’s teaching methods. Merlin does some Angry Pipe Puffing and hands the job over to his owl. Archimedes orders Arthur to read a mountain of books and finds he first has to teach him to read. My mother, who is a 1st grade teacher, would be HORRIFIED to see the way that Arthur forms his letters, particularly that B. I am shuddering. Meanwhile Merlin dusts off a model airplane. He tries to demonstrate it to Arthur, but it gets caught by his beard and crashes in the moat. Witnessing this, the owl laughs so hard I’m positive he’ll give himself a stroke. He laughs so hysterically and for such a long time that now I’m sitting here laughing too. Arthur wistfully hopes that someday men will fly. He's always wished he could fly. It takes Merlin about two seconds to take care of that. Arthur’s delight is adorable: “I’m a bird I’m a bird I’m a bird!!!”
Merlin and Archimedes fight over teaching SparrowArthur how to fly. Merlin has studied the mechanics of flight. Archimedes is a bird. Archimedes wins. He clears his throat at Merlin, who clears his throat back at Archimedes. Oh, you two old geezers. I’m glad you have each other. Merlin sulks because this is turning out to be such a crummy day. I’ve got something that will help with that, Merlin. It’s called JAMESON’S. Archimedes waxes poetic over his natural ability: “It is a delicate art. Purely aesthetic. Poetry of motion!” They take a jaunt through the sky. I want to be a bird.
Unsurprisingly, a hawk on the hunt shows up. Archimedes saves Wart’s life again. Arthur had better keep this owl around when he becomes king. He’s proving more valuable than Merlin. No point in being educated if you're dead. The hawk chases SparrowArthur into the woods. Arthur lands on a cottage chimney and… FALLS… down into the fireplace. He’s picked up by a woman with atrocious purple hair and lime green eyes. Who did the character design for this one?! Arthur opens his big trap and tells her all about how he’s a real boy and that all this is thanks to Merlin. She laughs at the mention of the wizard’s name. Her name is Madam Mim and she’s the one with the real power. Madam Mim? Of all the Arthurian shoutouts in this movie, you couldn’t make her Morgana or Morgause? Archimedes arrives unnoticed and 180's like a shot, squawking “Madam Mim!” in accents of horror. She starts singing. Can I skip this scene? She can make herself as large as a house or small as a mouse. If I could do that, I would do it ALL DAY. For some reason she also stays in ugly old creep mode instead of lovely young woman mode. She wants to know how those apples stack up against Merlin. SparrowArthur is unsure.
ARTHUR: Merlin’s magic is always… well, useful. For something good.
MIM: And he must see something good in you.
ARTHUR: Oh, I suppose so.
MIM: Yes, and in my book that’s bad! So, my boy, I’m afraid I’ll have to destroy you.
ARTHUR: Destroy me?!
MIM: Yeah, I’ll give you a sporting chance. I’m mad about games, you know. Well, come on!
Get going, boy! You gotta keep on your toes in this game!
She morphs into a cat and goes after him. She catches him and he pecks her on the nose. As she’s threatening to wring his neck, Merlin arrives in a tornado of glitter. Mim challenges him to a wizards duel. They march through the woods to the beat of drums.
ARCHIMEDES: It’s a battle of wits. The players change themselves to different things in an
attempt to destroy one another. Just watch, boy, just watch. You’ll get the idea.
Rules: only animals, no make-believe animals like pink dragons (so much for Arthur’s dreams of dragonslaying), no disappearing, and no cheating.
Mim immediately breaks all the rules by vanishing and reappearing as a pink crocodile. Merlin starts as a turtle, then a rabbit, then a caterpillar. Neither of them is very good at this game. She’s a fox and then a chicken. He: walrus. She: elephant. He: mouse. Why on EARTH do people think elephants are afraid of mice? She: tiger, rattlesnake. I’m not entirely sure why I’m listing all of these out except that it’s easy to do. He: crab. She: rhino. I feel vaguely as though I’m watching The Emperor’s New Groove. He: goat. She: PURPLE DRAGON. Merlin STAYS IN MOUSE FORM. And then turns himself into a germ, which brings her down with a violent disease (don't ask me). Merlin—1, Mim—0. They leave her tucked in bed shrieking about how much she hates sunshine.
Snow on the castle. Hopefully this means the tournament will happen soon. Bunion is now Sir Bunion. Pelinore thinks the idea of King Kay is a terrible one. He is not alone. Join me for a glass, Sir P? Bunion’s replacement squire has the mumps so Arthur’s back in. He’s pretty excited and runs up to show off his squire’s uniform. Merlin is less than congratulatory: “A fine monkey suit for polishing boots!” He thought Arthur was going to amount to something. He really nails him to the wall.
MERLIN: A stooge for that big lunk Kay!
ARTHUR: [angry, tearing up] What do you want me to be?! I’m nobody! You—you don’t
know a thing about what’s going on today. I’m lucky to be Kay’s squire!
MERLIN: Oh!! Of all the idiotic—iibibihiihuh—BLOW ME TO BERMUDA!
Then he rockets out of the tower to, presumably, Bermuda. You lost a lot of points with me in this scene, Merlin.
In London, the tournament is going full swing. Arthur confesses that he forgot Bunion’s sword at the inn. He’s sent to retrieve it but the inn is locked. The owl sees a sword in the churchyard. Arthur is beside himself with relief. He runs to the stone that has a sword stuck in it.
As soon as he puts a hand to the handle, a light shines above him like he’s in an episode of Touched By an Angel. Cathedralish voices start to sing. He steps back and everything stops. He touches the sword again and it all starts again. Archimedes warns him to leave it alone and he lets go. He decides Bunion needs the sword and grabs it again. The lights and voices start up once more. This is hilarious. I would spend all day doing that, too. Arthur yanks the sword out of the rock and takes off with it down the street.
He gets back just in time: Bunion is up next. He hands over the sword. Bunion, the moron, doesn’t notice anything special about it, but his father does. Fat Papa reads the engraving and his eyes almost fall out. I have a bad feeling that they’re going to give Bunion the credit for this. Some random man with a huge black beard is all “The sword in the stone! It can’t be!” Pelinore is astounded. Black Hair: “Hold everything! Someone’s pulled the sword from the stone!” Arthur tells the truth about where he got the sword but no one believes him. These people need to go watch the Sesame Street episode of when everyone learned that Sunffleupagus was real and Big Bird wasn't just reporting some really vivid hallucinations.
Everyone goes back to the stone so that Arthur, who never lies, can prove himself honest. Fat Papa replaces the sword. Arthur rolls up his sleeve and bites his tongue in concentration—it’s quite cute—but before he can pull out the sword, Bunion shoves him away. “Anyone can pull the sword once it’s been pulled!” This won’t be the last time in his life that Bunion makes a major fool of himself. Fat Papa tries to help him. A bunch of men flock over. Black Hair and Pelinore call a halt to this—they want to see Arthur try.
Arthur puts his determination back on, grabs the handle, the music starts, the light shines, and he topples backward with the sword in his hand. The light grows and fills the courtyard (why didn't it the first time?) and everyone agrees that it’s a sign from Heaven. Arthur stares, bewildered, as the crowd chants, “Hail, King Arthur! Long live the King!” Can you imagine? Orphaned, twelve years old, your whole life you’ve been a servant, you’ve planned your future around your limits. And suddenly: KING. Archimedes is so happy he almost falls out of his tree. Too bad Merlin had to jet off to Bermuda to pout and is missing this very moving scene. Fat Papa bows his head in shame. “Forgive me, son. Forgive me.” Take note of this, viewers! Treat everyone you meet as though they’re secretly royalty. You never know, especially in cases of foster children.
Arthur sits on his throne in an empty hall, wearing a crown that’s too big for him. He’s not happy. “I can’t be king,” he tells the owl. “I don’t know anything about ruling a country.” I could give him a few tips. The owl is grieved. He told him to leave the sword there. Arthur decides to run away… but every door he tries opens to a crowd screaming his name. He wishes Merlin was there.
Wish granted! Merlin bursts into the room wearing Ray Bans, Bermuda shorts, and Converse. He reacts to the latest news like he’s already heard it, which irritates me. He reassures Arthur—he’s going to be famous! “They’ll be writing books about you for centuries to come. Why, they might even make a motion picture about you.” I’m laughing because it’s really late. Also, whiskey. He plops the crown back on Arthur’s head. The voiceover choir rapidly sings “Hail, King Arthur! Long live the king!”
It’s over!
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CORALINE
Summary: An adventurous girl finds another world that is a strangely idealized version of her frustrating home, but it has sinister secrets. - Imdb.com
Length: 96 minutes
Rating: PG
Date of Original Release: 2009
Director: Henry Selick
Writers: Neil Gaiman; Henry Selick
Art Director: Phil Brotherton, Lee Bo Henry, Tom Proost; cinematography by Pete Kozachik (director of photography)
Music: Bruno Coulais
Cast
CORALINE – Dakota Fanning
MRS. JONES / OTHER MOTHER – Teri Hatcher
MR. JONES / OTHER FATHER – John Hodgman
WYBIE –Robert Daily Jr.
CAT – Keith David
MR. BOBINSKY – Ian McShane
MISS SPINK – Jennifer Saunders
MISS FORCIBLE – Dawn French
Plot & Commentary
I will readily admit to being a purist when it comes to book-to-film adaptations. I have yet to see a Pride & Prejudice adaptation that does Lizzie Bennett justice or a Robin Hood retelling that pleases me. The Narnia films—RAGE does not cover it. It took me a long time to forgive the makers of the Harry Potter movies. I’m a big Neil Gaiman fan and when I heard they were making this little book into a movie, I was, in a word, nervous. However, the final product was a pleasant surprise. I specifically re-read this book before re-watching this movie, and I expect a lot of my commentary will be a compare-and-contrast between the strengths and weaknesses of both—just wanted to alert everyone before we get started.
We open our story with voiceover children singing a creepy song and a doll floating through a window to be caught by spidery metal hands that make me think of umbrella spokes. The hands take apart the doll piece by piece—clothes, hair, button eyes, stuffing—and remake it with all new materials. When finished, it is set free to float back out the window.
On the roof of a pink Victorian house, a large man is doing squats. It’s an overcast day and it looks cold outside, with mist and pine trees surrounding the house. A moving van pulls up and items are unloaded. A black cat watches the van pull away as a girl walks onto the back porch. She’s young, perhaps twelve, with short blue hair and wearing a raincoat—and she looks just like the doll we just saw float back out of the mystery window.
She goes exploring in the grounds around the house. She makes a dowsing rod and goes for a stroll through the garden and up to the rocky hillside. The cat follows, and sends a small avalanche of rocks toppling to her feet. When she throws a rock back at the invisible disturbance, the cat yowls and frightens the girl, who takes off at a run. She sprints straight into the center of a circle of mushrooms, which most people call a fairy ring and so immediately makes me nervous. The cat hops onto a nearby tree stump and makes the girl squawk. I really like Coraline’s (the girl is clearly Coraline) fluorescent blue hair. She informs the cat that she’s looking for an old well. The cat fails to inform her where the well is because it’s a non-speaking animal. Coraline, who seems to expect an actual vocal answer, narrows her eyes and returns to her search. “Magic dowser, magic dowser, show me… the well!”
On the hill above her, an air horn goes off. A person wearing a weird mask shoots down the hill on a bike, which Coraline watches in alarm and then annoyance. She swings at them with her dowser as they fly past her: “Get AWAY from me!” I’m liking this girl more and more. Under the weird mask and getup is a black boy her age—I wish they had given him fire engine red hair, as a contrast to her—and he examines her stick; he doesn’t understand the logic behind water-witching.
“It’s a dowsing rod!” She grabs the stick and smacks him. “And I don’t like being stalked! Not by psycho nerds—or their cats!” The psycho nerd informs her that the cat is feral. Coraline cocks her head sideways so that it’s completely horizontal. This is a move that she’ll repeat many times in this movie and it makes me smile every time. Girl already has a big personality.
We learn from the psycho nerd that his grandmother owns the pink house and usually won’t rent to people with kids. Also, the well she’s searching for is boarded up beneath the mud inside the circle of the fairy ring. Wybie—short for Wyborn—says that ordinary names like Caroline tend to lead others to have ordinary expectations of them. Coraline’s already annoyed with the kid, and this only feeds her irritation. I sympathize. I don’t like Surprise Neighbor Boy either; he was NOT in the book. Thankfully, someone starts hollering for him. He goes momentarily deaf. “Oh, I definitely heard something, Why Were You Born,” says our girl. “Good to meet a Michigan water witch,” he says, informs her that her dowsing rod is poison oak, and rolls off down the hill. I really like Coraline’s striped leggings.
She goes to the well and drops a pebble through a knothole. It takes a while to hit the water. While she waits for the sound, it starts to rain.
Coraline watches the rain from her kitchen window. She scratches the rash on her hands and props up seed packets against the windowpane. Behind her, her mother is typing at the table.
CORALINE: I almost fell down a well yesterday, Mom.
MRS. JONES: Uh-huh.
CORALINE: I would have died.
MRS. JONES: That’s nice.
Mrs. Jones is wearing a neck brace and has bags under her eyes. Coraline wants to go outside to start gardening. Seriously? Her mother isn’t going for it—not because her lone offspring will contract hypothermia which will develop into pneumonia… no, because said lone offspring will drag mud into the house.
CORALINE: I can’t believe it. You and dad get paid to write about plants… and you hate dirt.
MRS. JONES: Coraline—I don’t have time for you right now.
Mrs. Jones tells her daughter to finish unpacking. Coraline is a bit of a brat to her mother, who either ignores the attitude or is one of those parents who allows their child to talk back without consequences, thereby causing the rest of their life’s interactions with other people to be one huge consequence. She hands her daughter a package Wybie left on the porch. It’s the mystery window doll. “Huh. A little me? That’s weird.” NO KIDDING. Let’s all take a moment to ask ourselves one of the great questions of life: what would I do if some random kid found a random doll in a random trunk at a random house and it looked JUST LIKE ME? Coraline, for her part, would be delighted. From now on the creepy Coraline miniature will be referred to here as Creeper Coraline.
*Those of you who have read the novel know that there is no creeper doll in it. I think a lot of movie additions are invented in order to answer questions or supply movement from Event A to Event B that for one reason or another isn’t necessary in the book. If the invention is done well it fits into the story seamlessly. If it’s not, it is glaringly obvious and irritating, one of the things that get people like me all worked up. The doll, I feel, works. It allows the characters to learn things about each other and without it there would have been a lot of big plot holes in the film. In the book this is not an issue, because it’s a Neil Gaiman book and it can do what it wants, and the focus is less on the Whys and Hows and more on the Whats and Whos. Reading it doesn’t bring up the immediate questions that watching does. But I digress.
In a room stacked floor-to-ceiling with boxes, Coraline’s dad is typing on a computer older than my grandfather. “Hello, Coraline, and… Coraline doll.” He doesn’t react to it either. What is wrong with these people? She’s looking for the garden tools.
MR. JONES: What’s the boss say?
CORALINE: DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT GOING OUT, CORALINE JONES!
MR. JONES: Well, then you won’t need the tools.
Coraline goes drama queen and heaves a sigh that nearly leaves her in a pile on the floor. Then she starts swinging on the squeaky door. This understandably puts her father’s nerves in a knot, but I can’t help feeling sorry for her. She just wants a little attention from the only two people she knows in a whole new state and neighborhood. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect parent, but these two are kind of failing their daughter at the moment. Which, of course, is part of the premise of the story and I’ll wait a while to comment more on it. Mr. Jones sends Coraline off to explore the house, which is actually a pretty good idea. So far Papa Jones is getting more parent points from me than Mama.
The house-exploring sequence is as follows: she’s nearly conquered by the bump in the hall rug; the windows drip on her notepad; there are bugs all over the shower stall—which she smashes with her hands; she turns on the faucet to wash off the orange guts and instead the showerhead turns on and douses her (BEEN THERE); she accidentally shuts off the electricity and causes her father to lose all his work—an anguished cry echoes through the house (BEEN THERE). Also of note: she’s dragging Creeper Coraline around with her the whole time.
She wanders into the gray living room and starts putting her mother’s snow globes on the fireplace mantel, adding “one boring blue boy in a painfully boring painting” to her house inventory list before turning to pick up Creeper Coraline, which she put on the table. Only the doll isn’t there.
She finds it in a corner by a box. Behind the box is a small door that’s been wallpapered over. It immediately and wholly absorbs Coraline’s attention, which is why she doesn’t question Creeper Coraline’s knack for independent movement. She calls her still-typing, too-busy mother (who has a mug that says I Heart Mulch—can I have one?) and the squeaky wheel gets the oil with a “Will you stop pestering me if I do this for you,” at which Mrs. Jones goes to a kitchen drawer and pulls out a black key with a button-shaped end. She slices through the wallpaper and opens it while the rest of us scream IT’S A TRAP!!! but the door only leads to a wall of bricks. Having given Coraline her daily dose of attention, Mrs. Jones stomps back to the kitchen. Coraline reminds her that she didn’t lock the door and she yells in frustration.
Suppertime, and it’s a truly disgusting Calvin’s imagination come to life mess. Creeper Coraline has her own chair. The doll is really cute, and it makes me sad that she’s an evil tool.
CORALINE: Ugh. Why don’t you ever cook, Mom?
MRS. JONES: Coraline, we’ve been through this before. Your dad cooks, I clean, and
you stay out of the way. I swear, I’ll go food shopping soon as we finish the catalog. Try
some of the chard. You need a vegetable.
CORALINE: Looks more like slime to me.
MR. JONES: Well, it’s slime or bedtime, fusspot. Now, what’s it gonna be?
CORALINE: Think they’re trying to poison me? [she makes the doll nod]
I like Mr. Jones. He’s pretty gentle, and manages to get his point made a bit more lovingly. I think they’re overdoing it with Mrs.—she’s busy and preoccupied, and I get the crabbiness and the stress of a move and hurting her neck and trying to meet a deadline, but I don’t think anyone walks around in such a constant state of impatience with their daughter. She takes every chance she’s given to remind Coraline that she’s in the way. Come on!
The fusspot goes to bed and falls asleep with a promptness that I envy. A weird squeaking sound begins, and some weird paper mice shoot out of the brick wall behind the hidden door. A mouse under Coraline’s bed wakes her and she chases it downstairs. It wiggles through the cracked-open mystery door. She jerks it open and is surprised to find the brick wall gone and a purply-blue tunnel in its place. Without a second thought, because she’s Coraline, she crawls through the tunnel to the door on the other end.
She emerges… in her own living room. “HUH?” This time the blue boy in the painting, who earlier could be seen crying over dropping his entire ice cream cone on the ground, is now thrilled with his triple stack. Someone is singing in another room. Coraline follows the sound and smell into the kitchen, which is brightly lit and beautifully decorated. A woman turns around. She looks just like Mrs. Jones, only sans neck brace and plus red lipstick and BLACK BUTTON EYES which creep out Coraline and everyone watching this movie, including those who only saw the trailer. “You’re not my mother!” She picked up on that pretty quick. The woman smiles and tells her, “I’m your other mother, silly. Now tell your other father that supper is ready.”
Coraline squints suspiciously but obeys. In another brightly colored room is a man who looks like Mr. Jones and also has black button eyes. In place of his computer is a baby grand. “My father can’t play piano,” she snots. Oh, that’s an easy fix. Gloves on metal rods shoot out of the piano and his hands are controlled by them as he sings a happy little song about her.
Making up a song about Corrrraline
She’s a peach, she’s a doll, she’s a pal of mine
She’s as cute as a button in the eyes of
Everyone who ever laid their eyes on
Corrrraline
When she comes around exploring
Mom and I will never ever make it boring
Our eyes will be on Coraline
The dining room table is laden with food. After saying grace (which, in retrospect, is unsettling) the other father and Coraline tuck in. The other mother watches her with a smile. She does not eat. A toy train carries gravy to Coraline. The chandelier descends and Coraline pours herself a mango milkshake from it. The other mother replaces Coraline’s full plate with a huge cake. Everything that could possibly make this meal attractive and enjoyable is present—parental affection and attention included. Candles spring out of the cake and it writes Welcome home! on itself. Coraline looks confused. “Home?” They’ve been waiting for her, they tell her. “And as soon as you’re through eating I thought we’d play a game!” the other mother says. She smiles, but her fingernails are drumming on the table, a detail that does not escape our heroine. The other mother suggests hide and seek—in the rain! Oh, look at them, just look at them, using everything that’s been going wrong in her life lately. What about the mud? Oh, they love mud here. “It’s great for poison oak.” That comment throws Coraline, and all the work they’ve done to make her feel comfortable flies out the window. She doesn’t like the idea that they know the details of her life any more than you or I would. “I think I’d better get home to my other mother… Mom number one.” She bumps into the other father, who says “Ha-hoo!” and waves, and I laugh and laugh and laugh. Coraline: “I think I better get to bed.” They lead her not to the tunnel but upstairs to her other bedroom. It’s beautifully decorated, of course, and she gasps in delight. Dragonflies flutter around the room and greet her in tiny voices. All of the toys are alive and can talk. The other mother spreads mud on Coraline’s palm. Girl is out like a light and they sing a creepy “See you sooooon!” at her.
Coraline wakes up in her own room: empty, plain, and dreary. The creeper is still sitting in the chair where she was left the night before and where, interestingly, we last saw the other mother. The rash on Coraline’s palm is gone, a welcome and quickly forgotten fact. At the breakfast table she tells her mother about the dream, who suggests she tell it to the dingbat actresses who live downstairs. Real mother and real father don’t get along as amicably as the fakes—of course.
The yaller raincoat returns. Coraline heads out the front door and trips over packages of cheeses addressed to the upstairs neighbor, Mr. Bobinsky. She takes them up to his place. Upon getting no answer to her knock, she leans against the door to listen, instead of dumping them and leaving like the rest of us would. Only, we have a plot to uphold here! The door swings open and she’s made witness to an absolute wreck of a room. A creature swings down behind her. “SECRET!” he yells, scaring the bejeesus out of both her and I, and closes the door. “Famous jumping mouse circus not ready!” Everything about this man is repulsive, from his horizontal moustache whiskers to his body hair to his lack of clothing. His skin is blue, which I would attribute to the artistic design of the film but really, they’re probably being realistic: it’s freezing cold outside and he’s in a shrunken wife beater and basketball shorts (the old kind from the 80s, the sort that are like booty shorts for men). He jumps around doing gymnastic moves; this is the same man who was on the roof when the Joneses moved in. He thinks she’s brought his cheese upstairs to spy on his jumping mice. I am really not in the mood for stupid neighbors today. Coraline turns friendly and introduces herself. He: “I am The Amazing Bobinsky! You, call me Mr. B. Because amazing I already know that I am. You see, Caroline, the problem is, my new songs go OOMPAH, OOMPAH, but the jumping mice play only tootle-toot, like that. Is nice, but, not so much amazing.” Hence the stronger cheese. Okay, those lines got a laugh from me.
The journey to the basement is commenced, with Caroline singing Russian-accented tootle-toots, when Mr. Bobinsky is back again. It seems the mice have a message for her: “Do not go through leetle door.” The mice also mistakenly call her Coraline. “Not Caroline at all! Maybe I work them too hard.” He swings back up to the roof and she watches him skeptically.
In a move I don’t pretend to understand, Coraline has packed a conductor’s hat—and just the hat—in a suitcase, which was strapped—just the one suitcase—to the roof of the car. She puts it on and heads down to visit the actresses. When no one answers her knock, girl gets impatient (what else is new?) and peers through the glass, which is simultaneously attacked by Scottie dogs on the other side. “Cease your infernal yapping!” yells a woman with a walker and way too much makeup. Misses Spink and Forcible are two old, overweight, busty ex-actresses. I would call them eccentric, only we just met Mr. Bobinsky. One of the misses offers to read Coraline’s tea leaves. She puts on a hilarious purple turban to do so. Apparently Coraline is in danger. There’s a very mysterious hand in her future. The other miss sees a giraffe. Coraline decides it’s time to go. Um, Coraline! Don’t you think these two would have fun interpreting your so-called dream?!?! Come on!!! I want to hear their crazy take on it.
A thick fog has settled on the ground. Behind her, a mask scuttles in and out of the mist. Coraline hears a crank and starts; then her eyes turn to knowing slits. “Great. The village stalker.” Wybie and the cat are hunting banana slugs. People in Oregon must have a lot of time on their hands. She wants to know about the doll that looks just like her, but he’s more interested in the slugs. She: “You’re just like them. I mean my parents. They don’t listen to me either!” He has her take photos of him and the slug, which makes her laugh. I guess this means they’re becoming friends. He tells her that he’s not allowed inside the pink house—it’s dangerous. His grandmother had a twin sister. “When they were kids, Grandma’s sister disappeared. She says she was stolen.” So they stayed in the neighborhood for the next eighty years? At hearing this, the cat looks into the window of Coraline’s room, where Creeper Coraline is propped against the window, and growls.
Bedtime again, and Coraline is putting cheese by her door. She settles into sleep, and opens her eyes at the squeaks of the jumping mice. She follows them back through the leetle door. I don’t understand why we’re being given the impression that this is a dream. In the novel, it happened. It wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t a dream. Though obviously impossible, it was a real occurrence. The Coraline in this movie has blue hair. I believe that her hair grows out blue (unless she dyes it; with these parents, doubtful). I am capable of believing, in this movie, that this door exists and there is a tunnel behind it that chooses when to exist and when to be a brick wall and there’s another mother at the end of it. STOP ACTING LIKE A DREAM.
The other mother is cooking in the kitchen. She greets Coraline.
OTHER MOTHER: Would you mind fetching your father? I bet he’s hungry as a pumpkin by now!
CORALINE: You mean… my other father.
OTHER MOTHER: Your better father, dear.
Despite protests that her parents don’t have time to garden, Coraline is sent on her way to fetch the other father from that very place. She goes outside, where the moon is rising over a natural crater full of plants. As she walks through the garden everything comes to life—plants start to glow with inner light, flowers spring up through the walkways and across the hillside, and animals to talk and sing to her. It’s very cool. The other father is on a praying mantis (interesting) -shaped tractor and he saves her from the “dragon-snappers” tickling her. The tractor becomes a small helicopter and he flies her over the garden to show her that it’s been designed to look like Coraline’s face. Sound familiar? SOUND FAMILIAR? He tells her the other mother knew Coraline would like it. She knows her so, so well.
“I looove dinner breakfast food!” chortles the other father as they load up their plates again, in the kitchen this time. I’d like to carry him around in my pocket. My little pocket optimist. The other mother feeds sausage bites to the snapdragons. She tells Coraline that after dinner she can go see the jumping mice perform.
CORALINE: That know-it-all Wybie said it was all in Mr. B’s head. I knew he was wrong.
OTHER FATHER: Everything’s right in this world, kiddo!
The other mother tells Coraline that she and her friend can go see the show. Friend? The other mother opens the door and on the doorstep is a button-eyed Wybie. Coraline is none too thrilled to meet another Why Were You Born. Other Wybie smiles and waves but doesn’t speak. Other mother: “I thought you’d like him more if he spoke a little less.” Coraline considers this and approves.
They go outside and I am telling you, this house all lit up and feeling like a warm summer’s night is absolutely beautiful. It looks like it was just built yesterday. I’d like a topiary flamingo. “It didn’t hurt, did it? When she…” Coraline begins, but Other Wybie just points to a motorized lantern guiding them to Mr. B’s door. Inside are cannons that shoot cotton candy and a metal chicken that pecks a corncob and poops popcorn. I’d like one of those too. There’s a tiny tent at the end of the room and the pair crawl inside. It’s much bigger on the inside. Like a TARDIS. The motorized balloon is back, and out of it explode about fifty mice in red suits, which fall in formation to make Coraline’s name with their tails. Then they turn into a tiny jumping marching band. Coraline is excited about every single thing they do. “IT’S WONDERFUL, WYBIE!” she shrieks. Is there crack in the cotton candy? Somehow a pyramid transforms into Mr. Bobinsky, who is a healthy blue and wearing a nicely-fitting circus conductor’s uniform. “Very very thank you,” he tells his applauding audience. The mice climb into his sleeves and vanish. Coraline tells him how AMAZING it was and he tells them they’re always welcome. No shouts of “SECRET!” around here.
The other mother kisses Coraline goodnight. Wybie still has cotton candy stuck to his hair. Heh. The bedtime crowd watches Coraline’s eyes close.
She wakes up in her own room. It’s raining outside. Coraline lets out a primeval groan. Oh, here’s a cheerful item of note: the cheese she left out the night before is truly gone. She races downstairs to the leetle door but it’s stuck shut.
Oh, we have an annual Shakespeare festival where I live too! The best one was Much Ado About Nothing. They set it in the Old West—okay, okay. The Jones family has gone to town. Literally. They’re in front of a big garden store. Coraline is enthusiastically recapping her slumbering adventures. Her notes are more concise than mine. Mr. Jones looks nervous and Mrs. Jones is irritable. “Don’t fret, Charlie, they’ll love the new catalog. At least, they’ll love my chapters. I did not call him crazy, Coraline. He’s drunk.” That last in reference to Mr. Bobinsky. I like the subtleness here: it doesn’t look like it, but the Jones parents, despite whatever currently holds their attention, hear everything that comes out of their daughter’s mouth. They do a poor job of showing it, but they are listening. Mr. Jones looks like an middle-aged version of that guy who played the main character in Stardust—ha, also a Gaiman story. The women deposit him at the I Heart Mulch store and go schoolclothes shopping. Coraline spies a pair of $25 gloves which she loves. “Put them back,” says her mother (and my mother, and your mother). Coraline pouts: “My other mother would get them.” This line sounds a lot like the real-life comment seed from which grows a novel. In addition, it lets us know that the magic of Otherworld is making good progress. Observe, the car ride home:
CORALINE: So what do you think’s in the other apartment.
MRS. JONES: I don’t know. Not a family of Jones imposters.
CORALINE: Then why’d you lock the door?
MRS. JONES: Oh. I found some rat crap, and… I thought you’d feel safer.
CORALINE: They’re jumping mice, MOM. And the dreams aren’t dangerous. They’re
the most fun I’ve had since we’ve moved here.
MRS. JONES: Your school might be fun.
CORALINE: With those stupid uniforms? Right!
MRS. JONES: Had to give it a try.
Oh, ATTITUDE. Middle school girl, you are hitting your stride. And it’s much easier to feel safe when you think something only exists in your dreams, doesn’t it? When they pull up to the house it’s pouring rain. There’s nothing in the fridge but mustard and what I think is an onion. Mrs. Jones asks Coraline if she wants to come grocery shopping [a thing this movie keeps calling “food shopping”] and is turned down. She of the blue hair and ungloved hands is still sulking. Mrs. Jones promises that if everything goes well today, she’ll make it up to her. “You always say that.” Mother number one looks sadly at Coraline and leaves.
MRS. JONES: Won’t be long.
CORALINE: [aside] But I might be.
Coraline retrieves the key and this time when she unlocks the leetle door, the tunnel waits beyond it. From the other side of the window the black cat watches her climb inside. He looks irritated.
No one is in the other kitchen, but the other mother has left the table covered in sugary baked goods. There’s a card with an invitation to visit Misses Spink and Forcible, as well as a set of clothes the other mother made for Coraline. She eats, changes, and goes out to the porch, where she meets the black cat. And now we conduct an existential conversation with a cat, which I feel can only go in circles.
CORALINE: You must be the other cat.
CAT: No. I’m not the other anything. I’m me.
CORALINE: Um… I can see you don’t have button eyes, but if you’re the same cat, how
can you talk?
CAT: I just can.
CORALINE: Cats don’t talk at home.
CAT: No?
CORALINE: Nope.
CAT: Well. You’re clearly the expert on these things.
I love this exchange all the more because Neil Gaiman has like eighteen cats. The other mother hates cats, our cat reveals whilst performing a few Cheshire-like tricks, and tries to keep him out. “She can’t, of course; I come and go as I please.” It’s a game they play. He has a black man’s deep voice, which surprised me because I was expecting something nasal and British, but I like it. Have I mentioned how perfect Coraline’s voice is, by the way? If you can put a personality into a sound, this is a perfect match. I don’t like talking about the actors behind the voices when I watch films because I want to forget that the character is anything but real, in this span of time and story, at least, and I don’t like reminders that they’re also someone else. But Dakota Fanning doesn’t even sound like Dakota Fanning here. She sounds like Coraline.
CORALINE: The other mother hates cats?!
CAT: Not like any MOTHER I’ve ever known!
CORALINE: What do you mean? She’s amazing!
CAT: You probably think this world is a dream come true. But you’re wrong. The other
Wybie told me so.
CORALINE: That’s nonsense, he can’t talk.
CAT: Perhaps not to you. We cats, however, have far superior senses than humans—
She rolls her eyes. He hears something and runs off to hunt it.
Coraline is greeted at the theater entrance by a Scottie with a flashlight. Dogs comprise the whole audience, plus the other Wybie. The Misses put on a sea-themed show, in costume as a mermaid and Botticelli’s Venus—which makes me laugh hysterically from start to finish, because it is so incredibly horrifying. They’re obese and old and wearing practically nothing. Then they have a sing-off, which ends tragically when the set collapses.
Part II. A Scottie pushes a barrel of water onto the stage. The two women are on diving boards near the ceiling. Right before taking the plunge, both unzip their bodies—unsettling to watch—and reveal their young, beautiful selves inside. They do an acrobatic sequence involving Coraline, who loves it, and land triumphantly in a column. The crowd goes wild. That was the weirdest thing I’ve seen this movie do yet.
The other parents are waiting when they exit the theater. Coraline describes her involvement in the act with enthusiasm. I love the other mother’s current outfit—black with polka dots, pencil skirt, the top ending in a bustle, bustle V-ing in triple layers with edges of red satin, red heels. The Jones imposters go inside. Before she closes the door, the other mother looks at the other Wybie, who looks dejected—a stark contrast to his constant cheerfulness—and smiles, as though to imply that he should do the same. Her smile is threatening.
The other parents invite Coraline to stay with them forever. They’ll sing and play games and make Coraline’s favorite foods. I have to give it to them: this is a beautifully built spiderweb. It’s more convincing than the book, in which the other mother only tried to persuade Coraline to stay despite the creepy feel instead of making her feel comfortable and queenly, as is happening here. They deepened her dissatisfaction with her real life and kept building her desire and greed for the other life. It’s worked: she’s raring to sign up. There’s just one catch. The other mother pulls out a gift box—“For you, our little doll.” I love the implication of puppeteer and unknowing puppet inside those very loving words. Inside the box are two large black buttons. It takes a second for Coraline to get it. “No way! You’re not sewing BUTTONS in my eyes!” That’s the only way for her to stay here, though. The other father picks up the needle. “So sharp, you won’t feel a th—OW!” The other mother kicks him viciously.
The other mother assures Coraline that it’s her choice, but the girl looks at them like they’re about to tackle her and poke needles through her eyes as soon as she turns her back. She pretends to be tired. Before going up to bed, the other mother tells her, “I—we’re not worried at all, darling. Soon you’ll see things our way.” The button way. They watch her climb the stairs.
She runs into her room and packs all her talking toys into a toychest, shoves furniture in front of the door, and dives under the covers. In the morning, she pushes back the blankets with a delighted yell for Mom and Dad—but she’s still in the other bedroom. “I’m still here?” she says, distressed. She goes to the living room door, but it’s been locked from the inside. Then she hears piano keys. I like this determined look Coraline gets all the time. It probably drives her parents crazy, but she’s definitely a never-surrender person.
Inside the study, the other father is plonking one piano key at a time. She tells him she wants to go home. He says, “All will be well, soon as Mother’s refreshed. Her strength is our strength.” The piano hands jump out and clamp over his mouth and shake a finger at him. They recede back into the instrument. He amends, “Musn’t talk when Mother’s not around.” Fine. She says she’ll just ask the other Wybie. The other father: “No point. He pulled a loooooong face. And Mother didn’t like it.” This time the piano hands shoot out and grab the other father by the head. It looks like they smushed him like playdough. Coraline runs out of the room.
She dashes out a side door and runs up the well-maintained hill path. The further she walks, the less well-defined the things around her are. The trees turn blocky. The sky gets pixelly. The black cat shows up and demands to know what Coraline is up to now. She’s getting out of here, she tells him; but by now the whole world is just empty whiteness.
CAT: Nothing out here. It’s the empty part of this world. She only made what she knew
would impress you.
CORALINE: But why? Why does she want me?
CAT: She wants something to love. I think. Something that isn’t her. Or maybe she’d just
love something to eat.
“But mothers don’t eat daughters…” Coraline tries to say, and I start thinking of praying mantises and sharks. My sister has a guppy who keeps giving birth—how, we don't know—and the last time she came home for Christmas she put them all in the same bowl for the duration of the drive home. One baby didn't make it. The other two cowered in shock at the bottom of their little cup for the next three days; as my sister explained to me, “They had a traumatic meeting with their mom.” Coraline and the cat come out of the whiteness and find themselves back where they started from. In the bushes at the front of the house a tiny trumpet starts to play, and the cat pounces on a circus mouse. He bites the rodent and it takes its true form: a sand-filled rat. Coraline is horrified. “I don’t like rats at the best of times,” the cat tells her, “but this one was sounding an alarm.” He runs off with his catch. “Good kitty,” breathes Coraline. She turns back to the house.
She selects a walking cane from the stand at the door and uses it to pry open the parlor doors. The room is dark but she can see the leetle tunnel entrance. Coraline steps forward eagerly. A huge beetle-shaped wardrobe scuttles in front of it and blocks it. It starts to glow from the inside, the way the plants did. I love the visual elements of this film! All the furniture starts to glow, one by one, throughout the room, until the other mother says, “They say even the proudest spirit can be broken… with love.” She’s waiting on the couch. Coraline is ushered forward. She looks mad. The other mother offers her a “cocoa beetle, from Zanzibar!” and pops one into her own mouth. Coraline demands to be taken back to her own parents. The other mother wants an apology for speaking to her in that way. “I’ll give you to the count of three.” As she’s counting, the other mother’s body stretches and grows until she’s twice her size, with a long neck and thin to the extreme, though her bustle is still huge—kind of shaped like a giraffe. On three, she grabs Coraline by the nose and drags her into the hallway, where she throws her literally into the mirror. There’s a little dungeon on the other side. “You may come out when you’ve learned to be a loving daughter,” she snarls, and then she’s gone. Coraline bangs on the wall to no avail.
In the mirror dungeon are three ghosts. They’re children, a boy and two girls, and one looks the same as the doll who existed before the Coraline model. They tell her that they were lured here by the other mother, who spied on them with creeper dolls and saw that they were unhappy, then made them promises and played games and gave them everything they wanted. They let her sew buttons in their eyes and she locked them away and “ate up our lives.” Coraline hears all this without really reacting or being thankful at the news that she dodged a bullet. She declares, “Well… she can’t keep me in the dark forever.” Why not, Coraline? “Not if she wants to win my life. Beating her is my only chance.” Okay. Whatever you say. She can still keep you locked in there forever. The ghosts tell her that if she finds their eyes, their souls will be freed. “I’ll try,” she says, and hands reach through the mirror and pull her out.
It’s the other Wybie, and he’s smiling grotesquely. The other mother wired the edges of his mouth up into a smile. That is FREAKY. I’ve never had a clown phobia but if this is what they look like to those people, I fully understand it. Coraline does what he might easily have done—take the wires out—and he pulls her into the parlor. They get the tunnel door open, but the tunnel is no longer plush and purple. It’s full of spiderwebs and decay and lost toys and shoes, a lot of shoes, a graveyard of Alice in Wonderland meets Cinderella. Coraline pulls at Wybie to come with her, but he takes off a glove and shows her that he’s made of sawdust.
The other mother thunders down the stairs in devil shoes. “CORALINE!” Wybie pushes Coraline into the tunnel and shuts the door. She scrambles through the tunnel and makes it into her own house. She closes the leetle door and locks it.
And leaves the key in the lock. Oh my word. Bad feelings everywhere.
“I’m HOOOOME!” she hollers, smiling. The house is empty. She finds a bag of groceries on the counter. The food is rotted and full of flies. The doorbell rings. She runs to it, thinking it’s her parents. I won’t criticize this; girl’s been through a lot. It’s not them, of course. “Oh. The Wybie that talks.” His posture bothers me much more than his vocal chords. He’s looking for Creeper Coraline. Turns out Grandma didn’t approve the transfer from her house to Coraline’s. But it looked just like Coraline, was his reasoning. She says, “It used to look like this pioneer girl! Then, Huck Finn Jr.! Then this Little Rascals chick with all these ribbons and braids and…” And there you go, everyone—the ghosts of Christmases past, seen through the eyes of Coraline Jones. Couldn’t have recapped it better myself.
She drags Wybie into the parlor. She’s figured out who Grandma’s missing twin is. “She’s in there!” WYBIE, STAND UP STRAIGHT. He doesn’t know what to think about the ghost-talk. All he wants is Creeper Coraline. Great! She can’t wait to give it back.
CORALINE: Where are you hiding, you little monster?
WYBIE: You and Grandma been talking?
AH. This is why they never left the neighborhood: Grandma has set herself up as Guardian of the Pink House. Can't say she's done a bang up job. Coraline starts talking about spies and dolls and other mothers and better neighbors and ask the cat, and Wybie makes a beeline for the door. He’s still not listening. Coraline snaps. She chases him out of the house, throwing her shoes at him. “You’re the jerkwad who GAVE me the doll!” She sees her parents’ car outside. There’s no one in it. The keys are in the ignition and her mother’s phone is on the seat. Coraline calls her dad and it goes to voicemail. “Where have you gone?” she wails plaintively.
The Misses Spink and Forcible aren’t of much help. They’re knitting angel dog outfits and bemoaning their lost ride to the theater. They do manage to come up with a little gift—a triangular rock with a hole through the center. It’s a talisman that is good for bad things or lost things, depending on which Miss you talk to.
Coraline goes into her parents’ bedroom and arranges the pillows in imitation of them. She puts her father’s glasses on one round pillow. She shapes a cloth into a neck-brace and puts another circular pillow inside it. This is very sweet and heartbreaking. “Good night, mom. Good night, dad.” She kisses her pillow parents and curls up between them, and finally cries. So do our hearts.
The cat wakes her up by batting her nose. She asks if he knows where they are and he blinks a yes. She follows him to the hall mirror. Inside it, freezing, are Coraline’s parents. Her mother writes HELP US on the glass before the whole thing ices over. Coraline smashes the mirror (was that wise?) and asks the cat how this happened. He leads her back to their bed; underneath it is a modified creeper doll, double-sided—the Joneses in miniature. Coraline throws it in the fire and watches it burn up. GO, GIRL. She looks at the cat. “They’re not coming back, are they? Mom and Dad. Not on their own. Only one thing to do.” She looks at the leetle door and the key in it. This girl spends a lot of time in her pajamas. I’m not judging. She packs a bag full of the necessary parent-saving items.
Armed with a candle, Jones Rescue Ops crawls back through the darkened tunnel. The cat just wants to make sure she knows she’s walking into an Other Mother trap.
CORALINE: I have to go back. They are my parents.
CAT: Challenge her, then. She may not play fair, but she won’t refuse. She’s got a thing for games.
The door at the other end opens and Mrs. Jones, ice-encrusted and neck-braced, calls Coraline’s name. Coraline runs forward, but as you might expect, it’s really the other mother in disguise. She stretches back out to her previous scary self. The other father lumbers in. He looks like a pumpkin. A rat runs out of the tunnel and delivers the black key to the other mother, who swallows it. Coraline wants to know why she doesn’t just have her own key made. “There’s only one key,” says the pumpkin father. That’s a good enough answer for me! The other mother ushers him out to take care of the squash.
“Breakfast time!” she sings. It’s eternally night here, so this so-called meal bothers me. Coraline sits at the table and a bead of sweat rolls down her forehead. The buttons sit in their gift box above her plate. She’s wearing her conductor hat, which I love. The other mother sings while she cooks. Now I really want pancakes and bacon. Why is it always bacon? Coraline proposes they play an exploring game—a finding-things game. If she can find her parents and the eyes of the ghost children, the other mother has to free everyone she’s trapped here. If Coraline loses, she’ll stay here forever and the other mother can sew buttons into her eyes. It’s a deal—but only if the other mother gives her a clue, which (oddly) she readily does. “In each of three wonders I’ve made just for you, a ghost’s eye is lost in plain sight.” I think the button detail is incredibly interesting. She can make everything else, but eyes—eyes are telling, eyes betray the good and bad inside a person. Real eyes would give her away in a second. She CAN’T make eyes. They’re so full of life and truth. They would give her away because anything but the real thing would be such an obvious fake.
Coraline starts in the garden. The plants are half-alive: they’re trumpeting out of tune, their lights are half-lit, they’re leaking, and they’re vicious. Some attack her and she hacks them to pieces with her Rescue Ops pliers. Hummingbirds try to carry off her talisman, which she retrieves with a well-aimed throw of her satchel. When she looks through the rock, everything turns black and white except the glow of the ghosts’ eyes. The first one is located on the praying-mantis tractor, which the pumpkin father is manning. He starts to attack her with it, although he tells her in a voice like an off-track music record that the other mother is making him and he doesn’t want to hurt her. Right before the tractor plunges into the pond, the pumpkin father looses the ghost eye and hands it to Coraline. Then everything sinks into the water and the garden loses its color. An eclipse starts to cover the moon.
She heads into the theater. It’s empty but an unseen Miss is singing. Coraline finds a flashlight and discovers the Scotties hanging like red-eyed bats on the ceiling. Onstage is a huge white thing, like an oversized candy wrapper. Coraline uses the talisman and finds the next ghost’s eyes in a pearl ring inside. When she grabs it, the young Misses Spink and Forcible come to life in shades of pink and green and sharp teeth and scream for her to give it back. It is scary. Coraline wakes the bat-dogs, which attack the Misses and let her escape with the ring. The theater turns pixeled and white. A voice in the pearl urges Coraline to hurry—“Her web is unwinding!”
The flag outside Mr. B’s door has been replaced by the other Wybie’s empty clothes. “Evil witch! I’m not scared!” she yells. Something I miss about the book is all the bravery talks Coraline has to give herself. MovieCoraline is confident and determined, and that’s wonderful. Kids watching this should see that even someone as young and physically weak as Coraline can still stand up to evil and fight with all her might. Having once been a twelve-year-old girl, I would say that movieCoraline is who we want to be; bookCoraline is who we are. In the novel Coraline is shaking in her boots, and she’s really scared but she knows she has to be brave to save the people she loves. Most of the peeks we get into her head are her reminders to herself to be brave. It doesn’t come naturally to her the way it does to this feisty blue-haired creature. I really enjoy both versions. Admittedly the film version is a little more accessible. BookCoraline is very English and it’s hard to read her emotions. MovieCoraline wears her heart on her sleeve, which makes it easier to empathize with her.
Inside, the show is closed. Mr. Bobinsky—or something like him—greets her and asks if his circus ball is what she’s looking for. The talisman tells her yes. She grabs for it, but he slides through the room, out of sight but not hearing. “You think that winning game is good thing? You’ll just go home and be bored and neglected, same as always. Stay here with us. We will listen to you and love you!” Coraline tells him he doesn’t get it—he’s just a copy of the real Mr. Bobinsky. He responds in a creepy chorus: “Not even that, anymore,” and collapses as rats pour out of his clothing. The other rats delay Coraline as the head rat, the one holding the circus ball, escapes out the door. She throws the talisman stone after him, but her good aim quota has been used up. Both stone and rat sail out of sight into the night. She somehow manages to loosen the entire balcony from its mounts and is thrown to the ground.
The button eclipse of the moon is almost complete. She sits up on the grass and moans, “I’ve lost the game. I’ve lost everything.” [I just lost The Game]. As she starts crying, the rat’s head and circus ball fall to the ground in front of her. The black cat says, “I think I mentioned that I don’t like rats at the best of times.” She smiles and thanks him. When she picks up the final ghost’s eyes, everything is washed out in black and white again. She tells the cat she’s going inside to find her parents. At this moment the eclipse completes, and white streaks out from the button moon like shattering glass or falling leaves. Everything but the house is vacuumed up. Coraline and the cat run inside.
The interior is still whole and colored, although the wallpaper is curling off the walls and none of the bug furniture works. The cat growls at the other mother, who is sitting on the couch in the parlor. Her face is fractured like broken china. “So. You’re back. And you brought vermin with you.” Her hands are metal rods and she walks on four metal legs. Spider spider spider spider. Coraline nearly hands the ghost eyes to her but catches herself. She tells the other mother she still has to find her own parents. The other mother wishes her luck without her little talisman, which she holds up to all our dismay. She throws it into the green fire and it melts.
Coraline pretends to know where her parents are. She says they’re behind the leetle door, a trick which actually WORKS: the other mother hocks up the keys and unlocks the door, revealing the empty, decaying tunnel beyond. Meanwhile, Coraline has located her parents in a snowglobe, which she slips into her satchel. She flings the cat at the other mother’s face and he claws off her button eyes. This infuriates the other mother. “You horrible cheating girl!” Takes one to know one. She undoes the magic holding the floor in place, and it collapses into a giant metal spiderweb with Coraline at the center. The other mother blindly launches herself into it. Coraline starts climbing out of the web but the other mother locates her and chases her to the tunnel entrance. Just as Coraline is closing the door, the other mother gets her hands on it. The ghost children help pull the door shut, but not before they break off one of the other mother’s hands into the tunnel. Coraline locks the other door and scrambles back through the tunnel while the other mother bangs on the other side of the door and screams “DON’T LEAVE ME, DON’T LEAVE ME! I’LL DIE WITHOUT YOU!” The tunnel accordions in after Coraline, who gets through her leetle door in the nick of time. She shuts and locks it just as the other door slams into it with such force that it knocks her backwards. Everything goes quiet. She sits there panting in shock for a moment. She puts the key into her satchel and discovers the Detroit Zoo snowglobe on the mantel is shattered.
Her parents walk through the door, ice-encrusted, with no idea that anything happened to them. She stares at them while they scold her for breaking things and tell her to clean up because they’re going out.
MR. JONES: We’ve got a lot to celebrate!
CORALINE: You’re talking about… your garden catalog?
MRS. JONES: Of course! What else?
CORALINE: But look at the snow on your clothes!
MRS. JONES: What’s gotten into you, Coraline?
Coraline watches the ice melt. Her parents walk away, shrugging to each other. She gives the broken snow globe a funny look.
Bedtime. Mr. and Mrs. Jones are in Coraline’s room, giving her the sweet attention she’s been craving. She tells her parents to give invitations to their gardening party to everybody, even Mr. Bobinsky. Learned to look past appearances, eh, Coraline? They kiss her goodnight and her mother slips a box under the blankets before leaving the room. It’s the gloves. Coraline puts them on and smiles. The black cat appears at the window and she goes over to it. “You still mad?” she asks. The cat glowers at her. She apologizes and his expression softens. I’ve never had a cat, but I didn’t think they were so quick to forgive. Especially after being flung at an enraged, murderous devilwoman’s face. Coraline gets back in bed and takes out the balls containing the ghosts’ eyes/souls. “I think it’s time, don’t you? To set them free?” She put the balls under her pillow. Oh, is that how it works, like a tooth fairy soul-freer? The cat curls up next to her and they fall asleep.
The ceiling opens up into Monet/Van Goghish painting and the three ghosts, now angels (I guess) thank Coraline. She’s just glad it’s over. They exchange glances. That’s never good. “It is over and done with… for us,” says Wybie’s Grandmother’s sister. The problem is the key. They’re sure the beldam (the other mother) will find it. I’ve never heard of a beldam. Is this a reference to the belle dame sans merci? The bright note in all of this is that Coraline is still alive. “Thou art still living.” I’m sure that’s super reassuring, seeing as it could certainly change any moment and almost has quite a few times.
Coraline wakes in a cold sweat and is horrified to find the eye-balls in crushed pieces beneath her pillow. Well then maybe you shouldn’t have SLEPT ON THEM. She clambers out of bed to hide the key. The cat tries to block the door but she brushes past him. Coraline, if you don’t stop and listen to other people as much as you want to be listened to, I am going to start calling you Caroline.
As she walks past the front room the leetle door starts to shudder. YES, ZOOM IN, PLEASE! I want a good closeup of whatever horrifying thing is about to emerge! It’s the metal hand. It pries itself out and goes into offense mode.
Coraline strolls along the hill path, the house lit prettily below her. She sings to herself, walking nervously through the dark orchard as the hand follows behind. She pries off the well cover and right as she’s taking off the keystring around her neck to drop it in, the hand makes a flying leap, grabs the key, and starts dragging it (and by proxy, Coraline) back to the house where the leetle door is being banged on from the other side and an ominous green light is shining from the cracks. Terrific.
All of a sudden an air horn goes off and high on the hill a motorbike light goes on. The hand throws its…elf up. I hate when movies pretend that severed hands can see. WHY IS WYBIE HERE? He comes down the hill at top speed and grabs the hand, which then attacks him. This throws off his steering and sends both of them flying through the air and into the well. Wybie is able to grab the edge and hang on, problem being that the hand hangs on to him. It climbs him like a ladder and starts flicking at his fingers to make him lose his grip. Coraline comes barreling up and tackles the hand, catching it in her blanket, which it has no trouble ripping through. Right as it’s about to go for her throat a huge rock smashes it to smithereens. Thanks, Wybie! Go teamwork! Coraline ties up the rock and hand in her blanket with the key string, and they drop the whole kit and caboodle into the well and replace the cover. I’d put a barbed fence with an electrical current around that too, guys, unless you want this to turn into Jumanji.
Wybie apologizes for not believing Coraline. His grandmother showed him a picture of her twin and she looks just like the ghost girl Coraline described. Right then, Grandma starts hollering for Wyborn—AS WELL SHE MIGHT, TOO, I MEAN WHAT IS IT LIKE 2 IN THE MORNING? GO HOME, CHILDREN—and Coraline tells him to bring his grandma by tomorrow and they’ll explain everything together. Oh btw she’s glad he decided to stalk her. Before this gets weird, Wybie says it wasn’t his idea—and up hops the black cat. All three do the horizontal head tilt and smile affectionately.
A white balloon! It’s not symbolic of anything, is it? Coraline serves lemonade to everyone at the gardening party. They’re filling the whole area with red tulips. In the area that was once the pond, Mr. B is uprooting flowers and replacing them with beets. The mice say all is well, he tells her. Then we hear a voice full of awesome say, “Wyborn! I know where I’m going! I grew up here!” Wybie leads his grandmother into the garden—which is still shaped like Coraline’s face, I’ll have you know—and Coraline greets her with a huge smile. “I’m Coraline Jones! I have to so much to tell you!”
Pan out from the garden, past the house, to the house sign, atop which lies the black cat, washing himself. He stands and pulls another vanishing trick. I wish this music was different. Not a lot—just something that didn’t leave me with my nerves on edge.
It’s over!
-follow this link for the complete list of Coraline posts-
CINDERELLA
Summary: When Cinderella's cruel stepmother prevents her from attending the Royal Ball, she gets some unexpected help from some lovable mice and her fairy godmother. - Imdb.com
Length: 74 minutes
Rating: G
Date of Original Release: 1950
Directors: Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, Hamilton Luske
Writers: Charles Perrault; Bill Peet, Erdman Penner, Ted Sears, Winston Hibler, Homer Brightman, Harry Reeves, Ken Anderson, Joe Rinaldi
Art Director:
Music: Mack David, Al Hoffman, Jerry Livingston
Cast
CINDERELLA - Ilene Woods
FAIRY GODMOTHER - Verna Felton
LADY TREMAINE - Eleanor Audley
BRUNO / GUS / JACQUES - James MacDonald
ANASTASIA - Lucille Bliss
DRIZELLA - Rhoda Williams
PRINCE CHARMING - William Phipps (singing voice: Mike Douglas)
KING / GRAND DUKE - Luis Van Rooten
LUCIFER - June Foray
DOORMAN - Don Barclay
Plot & Commentary
We open our Cinderella book to a faraway kingdom—“peaceful, prosperous, and rich in romance and tradition.” A rich gentleman lives in a mansion with his daughter, Cinderella [annoying because her name is supposed to be just Ella at this point], and has remarried in order to give his child a mother. She’s a sharp-looking woman with two bratty-looking girls Cinderella’s age. When the father dies, the stepmother shows her black heart: she’s jealous of her stepdaughter’s charm vs. her own offspring’s awkwardness. The family fortune is blown on everything the brats desire, and Cinderella is “abused, humiliated, and forced to become a servant in her own house. And yet, through it all, Cinderella remained ever gentle and kind, for with each dawn she found new hope that someday her dreams of happiness would come true.” How sweet.
Bluebirds wearing hats and shoes fly to the mansion’s topmost tower and open the window curtains. Inside Cinderella is asleep. They chirp at her to wake her up, which she takes with a measure of grace most of us would be incapable of (I know Megan wouldn't). “Yes, I know it’s a lovely morning, but it was a lovely dream, too.” It turns out that Cinderella speaks bird, and she and the bluebirds conduct a conversation about dreams. This starts her off singing “A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep…” which draws the whole bird neighborhood into her bedroom to listen. I'm impressed because I am incapable of any kind of speech besides grunts (and sometimes not even that) for at least twenty minutes after I wake up. A few sleepy mice crawl out for the concert—also wearing clothes. “If you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true.” I followed this formula faithfully for twelve years and I still never got a horse. LIES, ALL LIES.
The castle clock dongs. “Oh, that clock! Old killjoy.” I like Cinderella a lot so far. She has much more personality than I remember. “Even he orders me around!” The mice are offended by this, for her. The morning begins. The birds make her bed. The female mice kick the men out of the room to help her bathe and dress. I’m watching this in a stupor; I can’t even bring myself to roll my eyes. I mean, I remember the birds and the mice but—seriously? I must say: the female mice voices crack me up. Cinderella puts on her 4th hairstyle within five minutes and slips into a pair of ballet flats. See, she was fashionable even as a downstairs maid.
Mice scurry in to alert Cinderelly that there’s a new mouse in the house. They actually speak squeaky English and inform her that it’s a HE—to which she starts taking out a tiny mouse shirt and accessories. Cinderella makes me think of a Nancy Drew – Pollyanna crossover. She’s got a great sense of humor and seems very normal… and then we catch her making hats for mice. Jaq tells her that HE’s in a trap and she dashes to the rescue—as best she can, I mean, because the tower stairs are eternal.
Jaq goes into the trap to calm down the trapped mouse. I love Jaq. He’s cheerful, skinny, high-energy, a fast talker, and has prominent front teeth and ears. He is my 6 year old cousin in cartoon mouse form. The other mouse is plump and has a dopey way of talking. Cinderella dresses the fat mouse in a shirt that rides up, a hat, and shoes. He’s apparently gone through life nameless, because she decides to christen him Octavius. He looks horrified (maybe that's just my face). “But for short, we’ll call you Gus.” No one ever said she wasn’t creative. I shudder for her poor future children. She goes downstairs and tells Jaq to keep an eye on the newbie.
JAQ: Zuk zuk! Look, y’ever see a cat cat?
GUS: Catcat?
JAQ: Yep! Cat cat! Lucifey! Thatsa him! Meeeany! Sneeeeeaky! Jump at you. Bite at
you! Ha! Big, big, big as a house! MEERAOW!! RAOW! RAOW!
He pretends to be the fierce cat and Gus falls off the stairstep.
Cinderella emerges into a beautiful hallway with three doors lining it, from which come the dulcet sounds of unladylike snores. Megan, I didn't know you lived here! Ha ha ha. She opens one door. Someone is asleep in the bed; beside it is a beribboned and bevelveted bed on which a fat black cat is asleep: FOLKS, WE HAVE ANOTHER CRAZY CAT LADY. Cinderella beckons him and he rolls over and ignores her. Cinderella: “LUCIFER! Come HERE!” He isn’t happy, but he obeys. He saunters over to her and stretches luxuriously right at her feet, clawing up the hardwood. She shuts the door, launching him forward and out of his dignity. “I’m sorry if Your Highness objects to an early breakfast. It’s certainly not my idea to feed you first.” I love Cinderella’s scorn for this cat. The mice observe them from a hidden hole in the wall and Gus wants to take on Lucifer with his bare hands. Thankfully Jaq is there to restrain the idiot.
An old brown dog is asleep in the kitchen, dreaming and whimpering. She wakes him up. “Dreaming again. Chasing Lucifer?” She pets him by grabbing his head right behind the ears, which is how I greet my dog too. It’s the little things that please me, like the animators getting right the way you greet your dog. “Catch him this time?” Bruno dog-smiles happily. “That’s bad!” He looks shocked. Lucifer cackles. “What if they heard you upstairs? You know the orders! So if you don’t want to lose a nice warm bed, you’d better get rid of those dreams. Know how?” I bet you a hundred dollars she’s about to start singing. “Just learn to like cats.” Bruno reacts as though someone just spiked his lemonade with mushroom oil. “No, I mean it! Lucifer has his good points too.” Then she can’t think of any. While Bruno is laughing at this, Lucifer revengefully positions himself so that he’s laying beneath Bruno’s head, then claws him. Bruno snarls. Cinderella didn’t see the setup, so she thinks the innocent hound was attacking the cat from hell. She scolds Bruno and sends him outside, telling them both that the farmer and the cowman should be friends. Bruno crawls out with his tail tucked between his legs, and Lucifer sulkily swirls his milk.
She puts on wooden shoes (wooden shoes!) and goes outside to feed the chickens. The mice race to the kitchen to join the feast but are brought to a fast halt when they spy Lucifer lounging in the kitchen doorway. They dash back into their hole, dragging Gus, who I am strongly tempted to just call Duh from now on. Jaq: “Carefee!” He hatches a plan: the classic diversion. They draw straws using their tails, which is actually quite clever. Jaq draws himself. Gus pumps his hand in congratulation; the other mice emotionally prep for his funeral. With their hats off, these mice look like Whoville Whos. Jaq approaches his quarry while the others watch. This movie is the king of music gags. Lucifer is dunking his finger and dropping drops of milk, one at a time, onto his tongue. Who among the readership is going to fess up to having done this before? (Megan, raise your hand.) Jaq kicks Lucifer, who falls face-first into the milk bowl. Heh heh. The chase begins. Jaq succeeds in getting safely to the holes in the opposite wall and keeps Lucifer occupied while the others make a break for the yard.
Cinderella tosses the mice some corn and Gus goes to war against the chickens for it. Cinderella dumps a pile taller than he is in front of him and he begins to greedily collect pieces. The other mice have grabbed an average of two corn kernels each. They all hurry back to the hole. One mice drops a kernel and is experienced enough to know better than to go back for it. Gus, who has a stack of corn precariously stacked from palms to chin, sees it and tries to add it to his collection. HOW GREEDY. Not surprisingly, his attempts only send the other kernels shooting out of his hands. This has almost happened to me so many times at Walmart. You know those days—you go in for one thing so you don't bother to grab a basket… The cat and Jaq both watch Gus try to restack his pile.
Unfortunately (or, fortunately, depending on if Lucifer succeeds and how much I still hate Gus at the end of this scene) the cat is not distracted by Jaq’s attempts to draw his attention away from Gus. The fat mouse loses his tower of food AGAIN and tries to collect them AGAIN. I HATE this mouse. He comes nose to nose with Lucifer and the cat gets him by the tail. Jaq drops a broom on Lucifer and Gus gets away. He climbs up the tablecloth onto the tea set that Cinderella has prepared for the family’s breakfasts. Has girlfriend gotten to eat breakfast at all? Bells on the kitchen wall start ringing and the entitled three start hollering for Cinderella. They shout her name repeatedly until I want to storm upstairs and slap them all on both sides of the face.
Lucifer watches in consternation as the tea tray is carried upstairs. He follows and tries to swipe the teacup Gus is hiding under, but fails when Cinderella loses a shoe on the stairs (FORESHADOWING MUCH? “I always was a little clumsy like that,” she’ll tell the reporters) and goes back for it.
Cinderella enters each bedroom with a cheerful greeting and gets only sour replies. Does this happen every day? I hope the prince has a good therapist on staff. Everyone gives her laundry to do. As she makes her way back downstairs, there’s a scream and a crash. Lucifer bounds happily to Anastasia’s door and catches Gus as he comes running out from under it.
Anastasia flings open her door screaming for her mother. Cinderella stares in astonishment as she gets blamed for whatever happened. Anastasia runs to her mother’s room. Drizella follows. Boy, are these women ugly. Cinderella hears the word mouse and immediately turns on Lucifer. She frees Gus, who is such a moron I can’t say it enough, and scolds Lucifer for following his feline instincts. Then she’s called into her stepmother’s room.
DRIZELLA: Hm!
ANASTASIA: Are you gonna get it!
Cinderella enters the room slooooowly. Her stepmother is ugly too, but she speaks and moves with such refinement that it’s almost like watching a snake. She’s still sitting in bed, which is incredibly insulting. Cinderella pauses at the foot of the bed. Aside: I like the play with shadows in this film.
CINDERELLA: Oh please, you don’t think that I—
STEPMOTHER: Hold your tongue! Now. It seems we have time on our hands.
CINDERELLA: But I was only trying to—
STEPMOTHER: Silence! Time for vicious practical jokes. Perhaps we can put it to better use.
Now, let me see. There’s the large carpet in the main hall. Clean it! And the windows, upstairs
and down. Wash them! Oh, yes, and the tapestries, and the draperies.
CINDERELLA: But I just finished—
STEPMOTHER: Do them again! And don’t forget the garden, scrub the terrace, sweep the
halls and stairs, clean the chimneys. And of course there’s the mending and the sewing and the
laundry.
The stepmother has a constant sneer on her face that makes me hate her even more than the powertrip and the unfairness do. Lucifer hears all this with approval, and when she stops he’s irritated. “Oh yes. And one more thing,” she says, and he looks pleased. “See that Lucifer gets his bath.” At least someone else will be unhappy today.
A crown comes crashing out of a palace window, disturbing a group of eavesdropping doves. A portly, balding king shouts, “My son has been avoiding his responsibilities long enough! It’s high time he married and settled down!” A monocled duke crawls out from behind a shield in the midst of the room’s wreckage and reminds the king to be patient. The king disagrees: he’s lonely and wants grandchildren, and if he leaves his son to the business of romance he’ll never hear the pitter-patter of little feet again. He starts blubbering onto the duke’s shoulder. The duke starts to tell him that love—and the king is enraged. “Love! Bah! Just a boy meeting a girl under the right conditions. So, we’re arranging the conditions.” His son is coming home tonight, they’ll throw a ball to celebrate his return, and all the eligible ladies in the kingdom will be there. He starts roaring about how it’s going to be TONIGHT and IT CAN’T POSSIBLY FAIL and ALL THE TRIMMINGS. This character might be up for a bi-polar assessment.
Back at the crumbling mansion, which doesn’t look out of repair to me, the fortune thieves are having a music lesson. To set the first note, Stepmother sings, “The pear-shaped toad” and Anastasia goes to town on her flute, while Drizella caws “Sing, sweet nightingale” and Lucifer and I are in accord for the only time in our lives, with both of us cringing in sincere misery. He escapes and hears a lovely voice singing the same song. Cinderella’s mopping the front hall. She trills away, fixing her hair in the bubble reflections and slinging her rag to and fro. Then—the bubbles pop. “Oh, LUCIFER!” The cat has run around the whole room and left dirty pawprints all over the floor. Next time don’t check yourself out for so long, Cinderella. He scampers away. “You mean old thing! I’m just going to have to teach you a lesson!” She grabs a broom and goes after him and just as I’m thinking AWW YEAH, there’s a knock at the door.
It’s a letter from the king. The mice pop out of a hole in the stairs—the maze they’ve made through this house boggles my mind—and ask excitedly what it says. Cinderella looks up as Drizella drags out an AAAWWWWHHH in the room upstairs. “Maybe I should interrupt the, uh… music lesson?” she says with a little smile. I chuckle. Let’s be friends, Cinderella.
Drizella is flapping her hands like they’re bird wings, which also makes me laugh—at her, not with her, in this case. The sisters start fighting and use Anastasia’s flute as a bludgeon. Their mother chides them on self-control and loses her temper when Cinderella knocks, slamming the piano keys—which really is unfair, seeing as the piano never did anything but suffer in the first place. They read the letter excitedly.
STEPMOTHER: Every eligible maiden is to attend!
DRIZELLA: Why, that’s us!
ANASTASIA: And I’m so eligible!
Jaq and Gus, hearing this, make As If gestures and laugh in silence. Cinderella is thrilled—this means she can go to!
DRIZELLA: Her! Dancing with the prince!
ANASTASIA: “I’d be honored, Your Highness! Would you mind holding my broom?”
They almost fall over with laughter. She’s all ‘Let me show you how regally dignified I can be’ and reminds them that it’s by royal command. Her stepmother is forced to acquiesce. “Well, I see no reason why you can’t go. If you get all your work done… and if you can find something suitable to wear.” Cinderella shoots out of the room like her feet have wings. Her stepsisters are horrified.
DRIZELLA: MOTHER! Do you realize what you just SAID?!?!
STEPMOTHER: Of course. I said IF.
DRIZELLA: Oh. IF.
They all smirk together. What kind of a name is Drizella anyway?
This puts a damper on watching the next scene, in which Cinderella pulls a dress out of her trunk and shows it to the mice. It’s not really that pretty. But it was her mother’s, so I won’t pass judgment. She’s going to modernize it. As she’s making happy plans, she’s called to work by the rest of the evil family. It baffles me that she can actually hear them all the way up there. Well, they are a bunch of loudmouths. She resignedly leaves her room. Jaq feels sorry for Poor Cinderelly.
JAQ: Every time she has a minute, that’s the time when they begin it. “Cinderelly! Cinderelly!”
EVIL FAMILY: CINDEREEEEEELLLA!
The mice sing peevishly about how their sweet human friend is misused. Jaq tells the others that she’ll never get to go to the ball—“You’ll see. They’ll fix her.” A clever little female mouse stands up and proclaims: “We can do it, we can do it! We can help our Cinderelly. We can make her dress so pretty—there’s nothing to it really.” Then a squeaky chorus starts up as the mice and the birds grab thread and scissors and remake Cinderella’s dress. It’s one of the sweetest gestures cartoon creatures have ever made, and it makes me love this loyal troupe of mice a whole lot.
Jaq wants to help sew but is ordered off by the same female mouse, whom I hope he marries (these things happen in Disney movies), to find trimmings. He and Gus skitter down to a room where the ladies of the house are piling laundry into Cinderella’s arms.
STEPMOTHER: When you are through, and before you begin your regular chores, I have a few
little things.
CINDERELLA: Very well.
The sisters toss aside a sash and chain of beads, angry that they never get the good things in life, and stomp out. The mice run eagerly to collect the sash and don’t notice that Lucifer is napping in the room until it’s too late. He chases them into a hole and they pop out of another. Gus again stupidly opens his mouth and lets words come out—like “BEADS, OOOHH, PRETTY BEADS, BEADS [CHUCKLE CHUCKLE]” and Lucifer runs to sit on the necklace.
The pair tries another diversionary tactic: Jaq will pretend to be collecting buttons off of a shirt and Gus will get the necklace. Lucifer drags the necklace over to where Jaq is dismantling a piece of clothing which Cinderella will probably have to mend later. The cat makes a swipe for Jaq and Jaq tiddlywinks him right in the nose with a button. I love this mouse. Lucifer chases him into the pile of clothes. Gus takes off with the necklace but then he RUNS INTO THE WALL and the entire necklace shatters.
The two mice try to collect the beads (which makes me smile, because Gus loads them into his hat and Jaq strings them onto Gus’s tail) while Lucifer slinks up to them. The mice get away in the nick of time.
A shrill rendition of “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes” is being conducted in the tower bedroom as the mice and the birds reconstruct the dress. It is SO PINK. They’re very happy workers.
Nightime and a bell donging at the castle: attendees unload in front of it. It’s a gorgeous castle front. A carriage pulls up at the entrance to the mansion. Cinderella, still in her housemaid’s clothes and carrying the broom which I’m almost sure is superglued to her hand, alerts the others. They pretend to be surprised to hear that she’s not going.
STEPMOTHER: Not going! Oh, what a shame. But of course there will be other times—
CINDERELLA: Yes. Good night.
She opens the door to her room and goes to the window, where she can see the whitely glowing castle. “Oh, well. What’s a royal ball? After all, I suppose it would be frightfully… dull, and—and boring, and completely… completely wonderful.” She looks completely dejected. I'm sad for her, because while, yes, it's just a ball, you get the impression that this is the first good thing to come her way since her stepmother took over her life, and now she's been cheated out of this too. Life is rough.
A yellow glow grows behind her. It’s a candle, and two birds are opening panels to reveal the remade dress. “Surprise! Surprise!” shriek the mice. (Gus: “… Happy birthday!” Jaq can’t withhold his disgust: “No, no, no, no!”) Cinderella is elated. “How can I ever… Thank you so much!” This is a case of what goes around comes around. I hope there are more to come in regard to the stepfamily.
The trio of cheats marches out in hideous dresses. Cinderella catches up with them. She’s wearing the dress and has a Snow White bow in her hair. I’m not sold on this look but she looks prettier than them, at least. The sisters are furious.
STEPMOTHER: Now, now, girls. After all, we did make a bargain. Didn’t we Cinderella?And
I never go back on my word.
Cinderella’s smile fades. The mice, watching, know something is up.
STEPMOTHER: Hmm. How very clever. These beads. They give it just the right touch. Don’t
you think so, Drizella?
DRIZELLA: No I don’t, I think she’s—OH! Why, you little thief!
The two girls attack the dress, going after their beads and sash but not stopping there. Cinderella can’t do anything to stop them. When it’s completely in tatters, the stepmother WHO I HATE tells them that’s quite enough—don’t want to get over-excited—and ushers them out. They leave Cinderella standing in the hall.
She bursts into tears and runs into the back garden. She throws herself at the ground in front of a bench and sobs. “It’s just no use. No use at all. I can’t believe. Not anymore. There’s nothing left to believe in. Nothing.” The animal menagerie gathers and watches sadly, then with confusion as stars of light start to float around in the air. The sparks collect themselves into the shape of a plump old woman wearing a blue cloak with an enormous magenta bow at the neck. She says kindly, “Nothing, my dear? Now you don’t really mean that.” Cinderella most certainly does. “Nonsense, child! If you’d lost all your faith, I couldn’t be here! And here I am!” Cinderella looks up, bewildered (and rightfully so).
WOMAN: Come now, dry those tears. You can’t go to the ball looking like that!
CINDERELLA: The ball? Oh, but I’m not—
WOMAN: Of course you are! But we have to hurry. Because even miracles take a little time.
CINDERELLA: Miracles?
WOMAN: Mm-hmm. Watch!
She’s lost track of her magic wand, which reveals to Cinderella, who has access to backstory we don’t, that this woman is her fairy godmother. The woman sets the wand to work, singing a nonsense song that turns a pumpkin into a gleaming carriage while the animals watch in fear. Without fail, my favorite part of this song is when the choir bursts out singing “Salagadoola menchika boola.” I can just picture Walt Disney saying to this group of people, “You’re going to do background vocals for a nice song called Sing Sweet Nightingale, very lovely. And then we’re going to mix it up a bit.”
Jaq calls the carriage wonderfee and finds himself turned into a silver horse. The fairy godmother does the same to two of his compatriots, but misses Gus. She shoots another stream of magic at him right as Lucifer pounces. Lucifer finds himself on a horse’s back and Gus finally gets his own, whinnying shrilly and sending the terrorized cat bounding out of the garden. He trots over to the other three and all laugh raucously. I always liked that part.
FAIRY GODMOTHER: Serves him right, I’d say. Now, um, where were we? Oh, goodness,
yes. You can’t go to the ball without a—
Cinderella, holding her shredded dress, waits breathlessly (for the third time).
FAIRY GODMOTHER:—a horse.
CINDERELLA: A-a-a-another one?
Girl is a good sport. The FG turns the mansion’s horse into a coachman. Bruno is made into the footman as the finishing touch. Cinderella tries to explain about her dress. If this movie was set today, she’d be good to go as-is. The FG tells her she’s wasting time.
FAIRY GODMOTHER: Don’t try to thank me!
CINDERELLA: Oh, I wasn’t! I mean, I do—but… don’t you think my dress—
FAIRY GODMOTHER: Yeeeeeeees, it’s lovely, dear, lovaggGOOD HEAVENS, child, you
can’t go in that!
Relieved, she smiles and shakes her head.
The FG mutters about size and eye color and simple but daring too, and up swirls the magic and dresses Cinderella in a sparkling gray gown with gloves above her elbows and a black choker around her neck. Her hair is swept up and has a headband in it, and she’s lost her ears but she’s got diamond earrings. She’s wearing shoes made of glass. She’s radiant.
CINDERELLA: Oh, it’s a beautiful dress! Did you ever see such a beautiful dress?
I love Cinderella’s dress. Nothing makes me madder (well, maybe a few things) than Disney merchandisers of today who have made her dress blue and her hair corn-yellow. She looks completely beautiful in the movie. The FG tells her to enjoy it while it lasts. “On the stroke of twelve, the spell will be broken, and everything will be as it was before.” That sucks. Cinderella: “Oh, I understand. But… it’s more than I ever hoped for.” Good point. Who cares about a midnight curfew when five minutes ago you weren’t even going? “Bless you, my child,” says the FG affectionately, and sends her on her way. The carriage races over the hill and through the town.
In the palace ballroom, the prince is being introduced to one young lady at a time. There is quite a line. From a balcony over the room, the king and the duke watch each bow/curtsey anxiously. The king growls, “Eh! The boy isn’t cooperating!” Since I don’t think we ever learn the prince’s name, I’m going to call him The Boy from here forward. The duke’s daughter is presented; she approaches the prince and he stifles a yawn.
Cinderella enters the palace uncertainly. The line of guards watches her pass. I always thought they were judging her for being late but now I think they're checking her out. She starts climbing the grand staircase. That is kind of mean. She’s going to be sweating like a cow when she gets to the top. If you look closely at the screen, the guards line even the stairs, and the ones just halfway up are teeny.
Drizella and Anastasia Tremaine are announced. They’re tripping over the other’s skirt hems and shoving each other. Seeing them, The Boy rolls his eyes heavenward. The king recoils. He declares that he gives up. The duke, rolling his monocle like a yo-yo, pulls out the I Told You So speech that he’s been mentally perfecting all evening. “Well, if I may say so, Your Majesty, I did try to warn you, but you, sire, are incurably romantic. Heh heh! No doubt you saw the whole pretty picture in detail.” The king covers his ears and glares at him. The duke breezes airily on as everything he describes comes to pass while he narrates. “The young prince, bowing to the assembly. Suddenly, he stops. He looks up. For, lo, there she stands.” The Boy looks past the Uglies and sees Cinderella wandering around in the dark by herself. He pushes between them and makes his way to her. “There she stands: the girl of his dreams! Who she is or whence she came, he knows not, nor does he care.” The king watches his son with interest. “For his heart tells him that here, here is the maid predestined to be his bride.” He touches her hand and she whirls around. He bows, and she curtseys. The king rubs his eyes and looks delighted. “Ho ho ho ho ho! A pretty plot for fairy tales, sire! But in real life, oh no! No! It was foredoomed to failure.” The king scowls and yanks the monocle out of the duke’s hand. “FAILURE, EH! HA HA! TAKE A LOOK AT THAT, YOU POMPOUS WINDBAG!”
Through the monocle, they watch the prince lead the young lady into the room. The king shouts for the waltz. He whistles for the lights and almost falls off the balcony. Haha. Music starts and the couple begins to dance. The king decides that since everything is working out perfectly, it doesn’t need his supervision and he’s going to get a good night’s sleep. It will need the duke’s supervision, however. If anything goes wrong, the king will have his head.
Our dear bi-polar king dances jovially down a hallway lined with stiff-postured attendants, singing la-di-da’s to the tune of the waltz. The Jeeves at the end of the line is grabbed and whirled around, and when he is released he pops right back into place and posture as though never disturbed. I find this hilarious every time.
In the ballroom, the Tremaines are trying to figure out who the newcomer is. The Boy and Cinderella dance past them and out onto the terrace. The duke prevents Lady Tremaine from following with one tug of a curtain cord.
Cinderella and the Prince sing “So This is Love,” one of the sweetest love songs in the Disney canon, as they twirl through the palace gardens and smile at each other.
So this is love, hmm mmm mm mmm, so this is love
So this is what makes life divine
I’m all aglow and now I know
The key to all heaven is mine
My heart has wings and I can fly
I’ll touch every star in the sky
So this is the miracle that I’ve been dreaming of
So this is love, hmm mmm mm mmm, so this is love
They lean in to kiss right as the clock begins to strike. CINDERELLA: Oh my goodness!
THE PRINCE: What’s the matter?
CINDERELLA: It’s midnight! [leaps to her feet]
THE PRINCE: Yes… so it is, but why—
CINDERELLA: Goodbye!
THE PRINCE: No, no wait! You can’t go now, it’s only— [he grabs her hand]
CINDERELLA: Oh, I must! Please! Please, I must!
THE PRINCE: But why?
CINDERELLA: Well, I, I—well, the prince! I haven’t met the prince!
THE PRINCE: The prince! But—didn’t you know that—
The clock clangs again. Oh, midnight! Why do you always have to go ruin everything?
CINDERELLA: Goodbye!
THE PRINCE: Wait. Come back. Oh, please come back! I don’t even know your name, how
will I find you?! Wait! Please, wait!
These Disney men have got to stop falling in love at first sight before getting even the most basic information about the women they’re losing their hearts to. It gets them in a world of trouble. Cinderella bursts through the curtains and into the ballroom. She waves goodbye to the duke, who waves back before he realizes what’s happening. The prince bursts through and is immediately swarmed by a horde of eligible and neglected young ladies. He doesn’t try nearly hard enough to follow her, in my opinion. Cinderella zooms down the grand staircase at such speed that she loses one of her shoes. She turns to go back for it, but the duke is hot on her heels (one bare)(probably blistered, too, from all that dancing and rubbing against glass), hollering “Mademoiselle! Senorita!” She makes it to the coach and her anxious friends, who take off at the speed of light. The duke: “Stop that coach! Close those gates! FOLLOW THAT COACH! OPEN THOSE GATES!” Black and red riders follow the white coach out of the castle grounds. The art in this movie is so beautiful. It’s like it came straight out of an old fairytale book.
The magic wears off completely and everyone turns back into what they were just a few hours ago. They scramble out of the way as the riders charge past, pulverizing the pumpkin. Cinderella apologizes for forgetting the time, and tries to put into words how wonderful it all was. The mice see that the remaining glass slipper is still on her foot. I am so sure. She thanks the sky, so much, for everything.
Lights go out at the castle. The clock strikes three. The duke is outside the king’s chamber, practicing how to break the news, while the king dreams of grandchildren. The duke enters. “Proposed already, has he!” shouts the king, who immediately starts making wedding plans and knights the duke.
“Sire, she got away.” Of the many things that would be unwise to say when a bi-polar king has a sword at your shoulder, that one takes the cake, Duke. The king turns purple. He starts screaming TRAITOR and TREASON and SABOTAGE and A LIKELY STORY while the duke attempts to remind him of his blood pressure.
And so begins the famous jumping on the bed scene, in which the duke and the king seesaw-trampoline up and down, the king swinging his sword, the duke babbling about the shoe he found. Let's just state the obvious: if I had a bed that would bounce me high enough to grab a chandelier 20 feet above me, I would do it ALL DAY.
DUKE: Sire! He loves her! He won’t rest ’til he finds her! He’s determined to marry her!
KING: What? What did you say?
DUKE: The prince, sire! Swears he’ll marry none but the girl who fits this slipper!
The happy king slices the chandelier chain and everyone and everything plummets to the ground with a crash. They crawl out of the new cavern in the mattress. The Duke: “But sire! This slipper could fit any number of girls!” JUST THE POINT I WAS ABOUT TO MAKE. King, jovial once more: “That’s his problem! He’s given his word—we’ll hold him to it!” The duke is informed that he will be spearheading Operation If the Shoe Fits.
A declaration is posted. At the mansion, Lady Tremaine hollers for Cinderella. I’m ashamed to say I kind of like her poppy-red dress. Cinderella’s broom has been re-affixed to her hand. Lady Tremaine wants to know where her daughters are. The slugs are still in bed. She orders breakfast brought up immediately. Jaq and Gus watch curiously.
JAQ: Wow! Wonder wassa matter!
GUS: Duuhh… what’s the matter with her!
JAQ: I dunno! Let’s find out! Come on!
I have a theory that the actor voicing Jaq had his lines recorded and then they sped them up. Like, x200. The pair pops into another one of their multitudinous household holes.
Lady Tremaine wakes up her daughters. She’s all in a hurry because the Grand Duke will be there any minute. The mice watch from beneath candles in a candelabra. I’d love to know how they managed that one.
STEPMOTHER: He’s been hunting all night!
DRIZELLA: Hunting!
STEPMOTHER: For that girl! The one who lost her slipper at the ball last night!
At this point Cinderella enters the room.
STEPMOTHER: They say he’s madly in love with her!
ANASTASIA: The Duke is?
STEPMOTHER: No, no! The prince!
Cinderella gasps, “The prince!” and drops the tray. Her stepmother tells her to clean up the mess and help the other two get dressed. “What for?” sulks Drizella. “If he’s in love with that girl, why should we even bother,” grumps Anastastia. They pull the covers back over their heads. I have to admit that their logic is sound. Lady Tremaine’s definitely isn’t. She thinks they can trick the duke into thinking one of them was wearing the glass slipper. PLEASE. Maybe the duke would buy it, but it’s not like the prince didn’t have eyes in his head. Cinderella’s face was the primary reason he fell in love with her last night, because they obviously didn’t do much talking. Men! The next time you fall in love, make sure you get her name!!!
Lady Tremaine tells them that whoever the slipper fits will be the prince’s bride. “His bride,” breathes Cinderella. “HIS BRIDE!” scream the sisters. They rush around the room loading her up with laundry while she stares at nothing in a happy stupor.
ANASTASIA: What’s the matter with her?!
DRIZELLA: Wake up, STUPID!
ANASTASIA: We’ve gotta get dressed!
Cinderella dumps the laundry in Anastasia’s arms. “Yes. We must get dressed. It would never do for the Duke to see me like this,” she says dreamily, and floats out of the room. The sisters are aghast. Lady Tremaine watches with narrowed eyes. Cinderella so this is loves her way down the hall and up the stairs. Stepmother and mice follow.
Cinderella sings to her reflection while brushing her hair. Her dressing table is really pretty—remnants of a life lived a long time ago, I’m sure. The mice try to alert her. I’m fairly certain that as a child I joined them in screaming BEHIND YOU!!! Cinderella. Lucifer taught you that there are narcissism has consequences. I thought we had moved past this. She turns around too late—her stepmother locks the door and pockets the key. Cinderella wails, “No, please! Oh, you can’t do this, you just can’t! Let me out! You must let me out! You can’t keep me in here! Oh, please!” She sobs against the door while her valiant mice friends determine that they gotta get that key.
The duke dozes in his carriage. When it pulls up he almost drops the shoe. That is the kind of thing where you can feel it take ten years off all you internal organs. Inside, the Tremaine girls flurry around. Their mother tells them this is their last chance—“Don’t fail me.” The duke enters and shudders at the sight of the two of them. They start to fight over who actually owns the shoe. The duke sleepily reads the declaration (side thought, it's kind of nice that he spent the whole night going to other houses and let Cinderella get her beauty sleep). Jaq dives into the pocket where the key is. He almost has it out and in Gus’s hands, but Lady Tremaine smiles at the upstairs door and pats her pocket to reassure herself.
Anastasia tries on the slipper. The arch and heel don’t even make it in. She says it’s just a little snug today. Always up for a challenge, the footman roll up his sleeves and spits on his hands, then goes to work on getting the shoe to fit. The duke falls asleep.
The mice manage to get the key out and so begins the long climb up the stairs. I remember that for a long time in my childhood this was why I didn’t like to watch this movie—because the stair-climbing process was grueling and boring. Watching it now, it takes about twelve seconds. Gus nearly passes out when they get to the base of the tower stairs. I sympathise with him, so much. The starts and ends of every college school year are flashing before my eyes. Jaq tells Gus, “Come on! Just up there!” Bless him.
She sees them through the keyhole.
JAQ: Us a comin’, Cinderelly! Us a comin’! Us’ll getcha out!
CINDERELLA: You got the key!
It’s like watching the cavalry arrive. Cinderella’s tears turn momentarily into happy ones, but before Gus and the key can slide under the door… LUCIFER. The cat from hell pounces on Gus+key and traps them under a bowl. Nothing will shift him. The mice forces come at him with teeth, forks, candles, and ceramics, but he fights them off with ease. Good thing Cinderella can speak bird, because she sends them to get Bruno. The dog proves worrisomely difficult to wake.
Drizella’s turn. “Of all the stupid little idiots!” She pushes the footman away and crams her foot into the shoe. The odd flexibility of her foot intrigues me. I hope it means that she has some strange foot disease that will soon prove fatal. The fit doesn’t hold, though, and the shoe goes pinging off her foot and flying through the air. The duke catches it like he’s sliding into home.
Bruno comes charging to the rescue and scares away Lucifer. The mice can’t pry Gus off of the key. “No, no, no, no, no!” he says stubbornly, eyes closed. This is how I respond when woken up by others. Jaq manages to get him to help shove the key under the door.
The duke makes his departure.
DUKE: You are the only ladies of the household, I hope—I presume?
LADY TREMAINE: There’s no one else, Your Grace.
Then, just as he’s turning away and our hearts are crashing to the floor, they come surging up again at the sound of a voice: “Your Grace! Your Grace! Please, wait! May I try it on?” The duke looks appreciatively at Cinderella’s feet. The Tremaines try to prevent him, but he tosses them a scornful “Madam! My orders were EVERY maiden,” and moves with relief to Cinderella’s side. He beckons for the footman to bring the slipper. As the little man scurries past Lady Tremaine, she sticks out her cane and trips him. The footman trips and the shoes flies through the air to the floor by Cinderella’s chair. It shatters in a second.
The duke sprouts about 50 white hairs and starts planning his own funeral. Cinderella, unfazed, says “But perhaps, if it would help—” NO, NO, NO, he moans. I am so tired of people interrupting this girl. She doesn’t miss much and she’s usually right. She’ll make a good queen. If they would just LET her.
DUKE: Nothing can help now, nothing!!!
CINDERELLA: But you see… I have the other slipper.
She pulls it out of her pocket. He slides it onto her foot and wedding bells start to ring.
The Boy and his bride run out of the palace to their carriage. It’s twelve noon, in case you wanted to know. I bet that was their own little private joke. I wish we could have seen the reunion of the happy couple. My big complaint with the early princess movies is that they’re all about the heroine falling in love with a prince or what have you, but there is hardly any screen time devoted to letting us see them interact with each other. Little birds hold up Cinderella’s veil, of course. She loses a shoe on the stairs and the king runs down to put it back on her foot. The bride and groom climb into their coach and drive away, waving to the townsfolk. The mice, dressed in tiny blue jackets and plumed hats, throw and/or eat rice. The choir assures us that if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true. The Prince and Cinderella kiss as the carriage rolls away.
And they lived happily ever after.
It’s over!
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