Part of that world

I've been on a Disney kick lately. Disney movies, Disney songs, blogs and podcasts that compare Disney movies to their source material—I'm swimming happily along in the magic right now. I've been wanting to watch The Little Mermaid for weeks now, which I finally did last week.

It's always been one of my Disney favorites. It captures that feeling we all get at least once in our lives—the deep yearning for something that you just have to have. Even as a small child, I felt the power of Ariel having a dream and pursuing it. I, too, wanted to say to the world: "Watch, and you'll see. Some day I'll be part of your world."

The trouble with dreams, though, is that when you're a kid, you have to grow up to get them. And then when you're old enough to understand what you'll have to go through to achieve your dreams, sometimes it's better to just forget about them and save yourself the stress and anxiety.

For instance, I've always wanted to travel. Settle down in a quiet corner of Utah, yes, but get out occasionally and see some exotic places with my own eyes. New York. Australia. Japan. England. Kansas. It didn't matter where it was, I just wanted to see a lot of things.

But as a teenager, the minutiae of travel scared me so much that I was content with the thought that I just wouldn't travel without the aid of an adult who had a clue, and if said adult wasn't available to take care of me on foreign soil, then so be it, I'd just stay home for the rest of my life.

My teenage vision for my future was simple, because I just couldn't fathom being brave enough to do anything unfamiliar. Overcoming my adolescent fears has been a slow process, but it's by far the most liberating part of being an adult. Eventually I decided that being scared was better than being safe, which has led to 10 years of checking item after item on my "No Way, Not Happening" list.

As the list got shorter, travel—one of the Great Fears—kept trying to get my attention. And as the years went by, the thought of traveling on my own scared me less and less, which is one reason I joined ACES last year. In addition to some word nerdery and sight seeing, the annual conference would be the trial run I needed to prove to myself that I can handle adulting when airplanes and hotels are involved.

I planned my trip down to the minute. For days leading up to my departure, I would run through my itinerary when I was supposed to be falling asleep. The fear and panic I expected to hit never came; instead, my overpreparedness had me raring go on an adventure, despite the many things that could go wrong.

One of the things that surprised me most about the trip was how routine all that stuff my dad usually handles felt—checking my bag at the airport, figuring out what time to catch the train and getting off at the right stop, how to best fit something fun and different into each day, finding the best places to eat, etc. Little things that were once childhood fears turned out to be not a big deal (although still tiring—I have new respect for what my dad goes through every time we went on vacation), and the routine-ness of it all was thrilling in a way. Any time I turn a dependent experience into something I can do on my own is a significant victory. It means I'm more in control over how I live my life and the color and variety I bring into it.

After seeing a new part of the world, I was more than happy to return home to normalcy, where I knew the lay of the land and didn't need to rely on my phone for everything. I've still got a lot to learn about traveling, but taking that first step toward something I had previously written off as impossible is exciting in a Disney-magic sort of way.

Throwback Thursday: The stupid Beauty and the Beast and the paper-tree Cinderella

One time I was on a date, telling this guy about my favorite restaurant. He listened with a smile, and then said, "Are you sure the food is that good, or do you love it just because it's nostalgic?"

The thought had never occurred to me, and I was actually a little offended that he would suggest such a thing. But, he had a point. Part of the charm of the place is the memories and the photo wallpaper that includes several of my relatives.

But while I'm still convinced that the best Mexican food in the world is served at La Casita in Springville, Utah (one of the biggest disappointments of my adult life was discovering that not all Mexican food is that delicious), I can acknowledge several things that continue to be the best thing in the world only because of the love I had for them in my childhood. 

Two movies in particular. My family affectionately calls them "the stupid Beauty and the Beast" and "the paper-tree Cinderella." 

Since every fairy tale retelling is unique, allow me to give a brief synopsis of each.

Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella (1965)

Cindrella lives in a cottage far, far away with her stepmother who never looks at people when she talks and her two 40-year-old stepsisters. They live in a cruel land; the men are forced to wear tights and the women must wear cones on their heads when they go out. The prince, the son of the King and Queen of Hearts, has just gotten home from slaying dragons and saving princesses, but has not yet managed to fall in love. So the king announces a ball, and all twenty of the lovely maidens in the land show up. All sound is sucked out of the ballroom when Cinderella arrives, and you know the prince is falling more and more in love because his smile gets so big it's in danger of breaking his head. But Cinderella must leave at midnight, and they are tragically separated. But, don't despair; they can still sing duets telepathically. Alas, that isn't enough for the prince—especially since his parents keep trying to join in—and he sets out to find the girl whose name he never bothered to learn. Cinderella's stepsisters are the last to be tortured via forced glass-slipper-trying-on, and just as the prince is about to leave, Cinderella's fairy godmother reminds her the prince is always dying of thirst. So she gives him some cool water from the well, he sees his princess through the dirty cheeks and Halloween-colored wardrobe, and they live happily ever after.

Beauty and the Beast (1987)

Beauty lives with her father and four helpless siblings who are in their thirties. Disaster strikes, and they have to leave their mansion and move into a cute little cottage and do chores. It's the end of the world. UNTIL . . . The father's clerk announces that one of their lost ships has been found. The father is delighted, and plans to leave at once to go claim his ship. Everyone but Beauty demands their father to bring home gifts, but Beauty simply asks for a rose. The ship has been sold to someone else by the time the father arrives after "two weeks' journey later," and then the father somehow ends up in a creepy castle in the middle of a desert. The castle is full of fog and causes him to sing conversations with himself. But he has a grand old time, and he sets off the next morning to go home to his children—but not before cutting a rose from a garden. Suddenly, a beast with an upset stomach runs down 17 flights of spiral staircases and confronts him, a little dizzy. In payment for the rose he stole, the father must come back in two days and offer up either himself or one of his daughters for life. Beauty, feeling guilty about her silly request, volunteers to go, and her father, seeking the Father of the Year Award, tells her he'll accompany her on the journey. Beauty has a lovely time at the castle, dancing with statues, talking to pictures, and gazing sternly at the metal owl in the library. And every night, the beast asks her to marry him, and she answers daintily, "No, Beast." Meanwhile, every night in her dreams, she meets a prince that looks exactly like Beast and he is always sad because he failed his acting class. Eventually, Beauty asks if she can go home to visit her family, but her visit isn't all she thought it would be because they've all learned how to dress and feed themselves in her absence. So she goes back to the beast because he's the only one that needs her, and POOF. He explodes into fireworks, Dream Prince appears, and they live happily ever after after the most awkward kiss ever.

Sorry, I guess those weren't very brief. If you only knew how many gems I left out . . .

Ahem. Back to my point. Over the years, my eyes have been opened to the atrocious acting and terrible sets. But as I'm cringing at performances the actors are probably too ashamed to put on their résumés (especially since most of them are actually quite good in other movies), I'm also remembering dancing in the driveway under the stars singing "A Lovely Night," imagining myself in Cinderella's fur-trimmed dress while I sing "10 Minutes Ago" with a handsome prince, and dreaming of living in a magic castle with a dream prince. I notice the cone-shaped trees and off-key singing, but I'm too busy reveling in the return of childhood innocence to really be bothered by them. 

So every few years, I pull out one of these movies, ready to grin stupidly for 90 minutes and come up with more clever ways to mock them with my sisters. They're terrible movies by any set of standards, but I love them so.

Song of the Week: Friend Like Me

Friend Like Me, by Robin Williams (from Aladdin)

What the song's about: How much more awesome it would be to have a genie as your best friend than a real person.

Why I picked it: Robin Williams has always been one of my favorite actors. He's an immensely talented guy, and my childhood wouldn't have had as many laughs as it did without movies like Hook, Mrs. Doubtfire, Flubber, and Jumanji.

But for me, the Robin Williams genius started with Aladdin, in one of Disney's most clever songs.

Best line: "I'm in the mood to help you dude."

Mood trigger: This is a great song to blast when you need to get some Saturday cleaning done.

Random observation: I couldn't stop cracking up when I looked up the lyrics to this song. Not because they're funny, but because the real lyrics are so different from what my seven-year-old brain thought they were. Even after watching our beloved Disney Sing-Along tapes, I still had no idea what the genie was saying half the time.

Examples (the ones I can remember because I'm still trying not to sing them this way. But I'm positive there were more misinterpretations):

Actual lyrics: Well, Ali Baba had them 40 thieves
My lyrics: Abacadabra and—40 thieves!

Actual lyrics: You got some punch, pizzaz, yahoo, and how
My lyrics: You got some poof [insert your own string of syllables here.] I thought the purpose of this part of the song was to make up your own words; I didn't think he was saying anything that was actually in the dictionary.

Actual lyrics: We pride ourselves on service.
My lyrics: We fried ourselves on purpose.

Actual lyrics: Say what you wish; it's yours, true dish
My lyrics: Say what you wish; it's yours to wish

The only time I remember asking my mom for clarification on the lyrics was when I asked her what a baklava was. Obviously, I got the rest of the song right.




And, since it's two of my sisters' birthdays today, I thought I'd mention a couple of songs that always remind me of them. I tried to pick just one for each, but that was too hard, so I narrowed it down to four each. Which was still hard.

Tiffany

1. "Winter Wind," by Jon Schmidt. This is Tiffany's signature Jon Schmidt song. I've never been able to play it as well as she can. And she made a really cool arrangement of it on the Clavinova that thrills everyone who hears it.
2. "My Sister," by Reba McEntire. I don't know if it's because Tiffany introduced this song to me or because Tiffany is my only older sister, but this song makes me think of her more than my other two sisters.
3. "Everything I Own," by 'N Sync. This was Tiffany's favorite 'N Sync song back in the day. We once made a tape of our favorite moments of each 'N Sync song from their first album. This song had two moments, I think, because we were teenagers and thought Lance's little speech in the middle was hot. But the other moment we wanted to include was the part where Lance sings "everything I own" in that deep voice of his. We were both certain it was in different parts of the song, but we were both wrong. We must have rewinded and fast forwarded the tape (remember when we still had to do that?) for a half hour before we finally found it. I really hope we still have that tape somewhere.
4. "Will You Be There," by Michael Jackson (from Free Willy). We watched Free Willy a lot as kids, and we always had to watch the Michael Jackson music video at the end. Tiffany and I would get into arguments over whether Michael Jackson was a girl or a guy, and several times we went to Mom to settle the disagreement. She never gave us a straight answer.

Kimberly

1. "She's In Love with the Boy," by Trisha Yearwood. Kimberly was a Trisha Yearwood child. I cannot listen to this song without seeing eight-year-old Kimberly belting out the lyrics. Or remembering that time Kimberly and Melissa sang this on karaoke at Grandma and Grandpa Jackson's house, and Aunt Terri had to leave the room to cry.
2. "I'm Wishing/One Song," from Snow White. Kimberly does an amazing Snow White singing voice. Ask her to demonstrate for you some time.
3. "Far Longer than Forever," from The Swan Princess. Kimberly loves The Swan Princess more than anyone I've ever met. And this song was almost the song she and Jeremy danced to at their wedding. If Jeremy's name was Derrick, it probably would have been.
4. "Here's to the Heroes," by the Ten Tenors. This song is so beautiful and powerful I almost float away every time I hear it. Kimberly gets that. One time while listening to it in the car, we discussed at length what it would be like to conduct this song. We concluded that it would involve conductor after conductor passing out from joy. So now when I listen to the song, I always envision dignified conductors dropping like flies, and remember the giggling fest that came from that discussion.

What to do on a gloomy weekend

Several months ago, one of my coworkers unintentionally annoyed another coworker by commenting on the beautiful sunshine outside. (Apparently, even the weather can be a testy subject for some people.) The guy then launched into a five-minute rant on why he hated sunny days because they made him feel like he was supposed to be happy and productive.

I had never heard anyone complain about sunshine unless it came with scorching temperatures before, but the guy had a point. I don't like being told to be happy and productive, either. Sure, most of the time I am willing to adopt a cheery disposition and productive demeanor when the sun isn't blocked by rainclouds or an inversion. But sometimes I want to exercise my right to be moody and lazy, regardless of what's happening outside. That's when the yellow ball in the sky becomes that annoying babysitter who talks to you in a high-pitched voice and says that you can have an extra chocolate chip if you put your dishes in the sink, smiling serenely at you as if it never occurred to her that she couldn't sweeten you out of a sour mood.

That ploy didn't work on me as a five-year-old, and it doesn't work now, either. I will find a way to get away from that sunny sweetness, whether it means locking myself in my room or shutting the blinds.

The only problem is, I usually feel guilty doing so. Which, of course, makes me even more mad.

Last Friday, when the subject of weekends came up, I delivered my line "I don't really have any plans this weekend" with as much enthusiasm as the person who said she was planning a family barbecue. Then someone else said the magic words: "It's supposed to rain this weekend."

Since I was in the clutches of a Mad Friday, this was the first piece of news I had received all day that made the corners of my mouth twitch upward. A gloomy weekend was just hours away. This meant that it wouldn't be a fireplace-and-balcony-sweeping type weekend, accompanied by four hours of sneezing. It meant it would be a stay-home-and-watch-TV type weekend, free from guilt and expectations.

Would you like to know what I did this weekend? 

I had a Lord of the Rings marathon. Because that's what you do when it's raining outside and you have to keep the heater on. I watched all three extended versions without any distractions—no cross-stitch, no people complaining about the seven endings to The Return of the King—just 11 hours of pure bliss in the beautiful world Peter Jackson brought to life. 

I highly recommend this immersive experience. You might be a little heartbroken when it's all over, but I assure you it's well worth it.

Thinking like a grown-up

The other day I watched Peter Pan. It's been years since I've watched this movie all the way through. Once I accepted that gravity was more powerful than my faith that I could fly (good thing couches are soft landing pads), this movie lost its appeal. I stopped watching it long before I stopped watching a lot of the princess movies like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty.

So, naturally, when I watched Peter Pan last weekend, it was almost like I was watching it for the first time. Readers of this blog know how my Disney-movie watching changes as I get older. (See this post. And this one.) There was one thing about Peter Pan that stuck out to me above everything else: Wendy's distress at being kicked out of the nursery.

Seriously? That was Wendy's "punishment" for corrupting her little brothers' minds with tales of pirates and sword fighting? Why wouldn't Wendy want to have her own space? And why did Wendy, John, and Michael act like this punishment was the end of the world? Seriously, guys, as far as horrible punishments go, this one doesn't even count.

I was about to dismiss this scene to Disney cheesiness when a small window of understanding opened up. I suddenly remembered very clearly how I reacted to this scene when I was a little girl: exactly the same. It brought me real, physical pain to think of Wendy leaving her blocks and toys, her canopy bed, and--most importantly--the safety of the nursery to move into a big, scary room all by herself. I thought of my stuffed animals that took up more space in my bed than I did and wondered if I might ever have to give all that up. I thought of my siblings and wondered if there would ever be a time that we wouldn't get to play with each other anymore. If growing up meant saying good-bye to all of this, then it really was the end of the world.

I had another, similar realization as I was reading Matched, by Ally Condie. I have always loved young adult novels. My top five favorite books of all time (if you count Harry Potter as one book) are all in the YA category. But despite the fact that I've been wanting to read this book for a few years, I just haven't been able to get into it. At one point I think I would have been able to root for Cassia's forbidden love, but now it's clear to me that she's risking the lives of everyone she loves for feelings that are real in the moment, but may not last forever.

And then it hit me. I think like an adult now, not a teenager or a child. Sure, I still act like a child all the time, especially when I'm around my siblings, but I've forgotten how to think like one. I'm not sure when that happened, but it makes me a little sad that I've crossed another milestone into adulthood.

Sandy

Tor.com is revisiting all the Pixar movies in preparation for the upcoming movie, Brave. I read the post on Toy Story earlier today and I came to a somewhat disturbing realization. Even more disturbing is that this realization came in the form of a math equation:

Andy + a bit of Sid = Sandy. I am a Sandy.

Before today, I always considered myself an Andy: someone who cherished her toys. My toys were my friends, and I was three-quarters convinced that they came to life whenever I left my bedroom. In fact, sometimes I would wait outside the door with my ear pressed against the doorknob in hopes that I would catch them talking to each other before they reverted back to their plastic states. I played with Barbies past elementary school; Kimberly and I reluctantly passed on our precious Barbies to Shannan with the solemn instructions to brush Teresa's hair often, to not call Pocahontas "Poke" to her face, to keep Ted away from the beans, and to make sure Mike and Ken didn't lose their legs too often.

But today I saw the truth: even as an innocent little kid, I had a bit of Sid in me. While I took care of my own toys, I frequently tormented Shannan's toys when Shannan wouldn't obey her Great and Noble Babysitter. I stole her dog, Fred, strategically placed him in a clear glass of water, and put him in the freezer so that several hours later, when my dad opened the freezer, in the spotlight was a stuffed dog stuck in a glass of ice, his "circulation" cut off my the ring of ice around his neck. I threw her toys on the roof where she couldn't reach them. I even pretended to take a bite out of Ned's ear at the dinner table. Her reaction was to flail her arms, scream "Noooooooo!" and topple off the piano bench she was sitting on.

Kimberly and I also enjoyed playing bad guys, and 97.4 percent of the time I was the boss and she was my servant. We stuffed our stuffed animals into grocery bags and hung them from the prison bars (a.k.a. monkey bars) outside, we threw Barbies off the roof with parachutes that clearly didn't work, and one day we decided to bury a bunch of our Happy Meal toys in the sandbox--Mom digs up a new one every few years.

One more shameful confession: if I had ever had a rocket like Sid's, I would have at least considered strapping Jed to it so he could fly to the sky and burst into smithereens.

But Sid can't have been that bad of a kid--we all know that he secretly wanted to ride the pony, and he didn't turn into a serial killer later in life. His just enjoyed tormenting his little sister, which is what little sisters are for, right?

Despite my dark past, I still consider myself more Andy than Sid. Why? Because I cried at the end of Toy Story 3, not because Andy went off to college, but because he left his toys behind.

Disney movies and viewer perception: Part 2

I had so much fun talking about Disney movies a few months back that I decided to do a part 2. I may even do a part 3, and just keep going until I've talked about every Disney movie there is.

It would be so easy to write an entire dissertation on Disney movies. As I watched my next batch, Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, and The Lion King, I may have gotten a little carried away with my newfound scholarly perspectives and neglected to ponder on my childhood memories.


Sleeping Beauty

Younger self: This movie always has been, and always will be.
Older self: Wow this movie is old. Just look at that animation! And I'm watching the DVD version that's 12,000 times clearer than the beat-up VHS back home.

Younger self: King Stephen--my sister has a friend named Stephen! He's famous!
Older self: "Good king Stephen and his queen--" wait a minute. Why doesn't the queen get a name? Now you've gone and pushed my "annoyance twitch" button.

Younger self:  . . .
Older self: You know, this movie isn't very original. Tangled, Enchanted, and Snow White all have similar storylines, the witch (whose name, apparently, is Maleficent, which is news to me) has minions that look exactly like the emporer's guard in The Emporer's New Groove (after they get turned into cows and stuff), the prince looks like Peter Pan, and his dad looks exactly like the king in Cinderella.

Younger self: The fairies must get their powers from Outer Space because it shows Outer Space when they give the princess her gifts.
Older self: Of course they give her the gifts of beauty and song first. It's not like she'll need anything like, I don't know, intelligence.

Younger self: What is a spinning wheel?
Older self: My 90s upbringing fails to understand how anyone could accidentally prick their finger on a spinning wheel. Who uses those, anyway?

Younger self: Why did the fairies kidnap the princess?
Older self: The king and queen actually agreed to letting three strange fairies raise their child? How--what--I don't understand how that solves the problem.

Younger self: You're supposed to crack the eggs first, silly!
Older self: How is it that the fairies still don't know how to cook? Am I really supposed to believe that they haven't used magic in 16 years?

Younger self: Maybe if I wish it hard enough, the mop and broom will come to life and do my jobs for me.
Older self: Maybe if I sit here long enough, someone else will do my jobs for me.

Younger self: Aurora's voice is too operatic (or whatever the 5-year-old word equivalent of "operatic" is. Vibrate-y?)
Older self: Aurora does have a lovely voice. Better than Snow White's, for sure.

Younger self: "Once Upon a Dream"--this song is the reason I love this movie.
Older self: Classic Disney courtship: prince and princess sing to each other, dance, and fall in love. Then the prince says, "Who are you? What's your name?" AWESOME. Apparently the fairies forgot to give the prince brains too.

Younger self: Why isn't Aurora happy to be a princess?
Older self: Stupid boys. They ruin everything.

Younger self: I want to drink juice out of a guitar!
Older self: There sure is a lot of drinking in this movie.

Younger self: Why can't the kings stop talking? I want to get back to the good stuff.
Older self: Apparently my parents aren't the only ones who talk about their grandchildren before they're even born . . .

Older self: Of course I didn't recognize this when I was little, but it's interesting that the fairies give the prince a shield of righteousness and a sword of truth.

Younger self: I want a dress that changes colors.
Older self: Actually, I would still love to have a dress that changes colors. Only if I can control it, though.


Mulan

Older self: Hmm, for some reason I don't remember the very beginning of this movie at all.

Younger self: Who the heck is Little Brother? Why doesn't she ever find her little brother?
Older self: Easy way to confuse a 4th grader--just name your dog Little Brother.

Younger self: "Reflection"--this song is the story of my life.
Older self: Actually, my problem isn't that the real me is unacceptable--my problem is letting the real me out.

Younger self: Climbing on the roof to spy on people . . . what a great idea!
Older self: If I thought I could do this inconspicuously, I would totally do it.

Younger self: Now Mulan's just being a bully. There was no reason for her to slap Mushu.
Older self: "My eyes can see straight through your armor." Now I understand why Mulan slaps Mushu.

Younger self: I sure hope Mulan never has to take her shirt off . . .
Older self: Forget that--my biggest problem would be hiding my attraction to Shang . . .

Younger self: I don't care how dirty I am or how late at night it is; I would not go bathing in the lake in the middle of a camp full of dirty men.
Older self: Ditto.

Younger self: Guys are gross.
Older self: The whole lake scene is just . . . awkward.

Younger self: "A girl worth fighting--" Come on, just finish the phrase!
Older self: Please?

Younger self: Poor doll--it will never be reunited with its mommy.
Older self: Who the heck cares about the freakin' doll? It's the little girl and her family we should be worried about.

Younger self: Wow. The fat guy's really strong.
Older self: It's not at all unrealistic that the fat guy can pick up 4 soldiers, and by extension a horse, 2 more people, a lizard (I mean, dragon), and a cricket without making that arrow snap in half.


The Lion King

Younger self: Brace yourself for the opening song . . . AAUGH!!! That first note scares me every time.
Older self: Yep, still takes me by surprise. And I still have to make up gibberish if I want to sing along. (That is, until the English starts.)

Younger self: "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?" I thought my mom made that up.
Older self: That part still reminds me of my mom.

Younger self: Mufasa's voice is probably what God's voice sounds like.
Older self: "Remember who you are."

Younger self: Why does Rafiki have a blue butt?
Older self: That is a bit distracting.

Younger self: Circle of Life--pretty song. In fact, all the music is great in this movie.
Older self: So, I read an article awhile back written by some overprotective Christian that talked about the evils of The Lion King (particularly the circle of life and Hakuna Matata concepts) and that if you let your kids watch this atrocious movie, be sure to explain these delicate issues so that they won't turn into demons later in life. See the next comment . . .

Younger self: It's so sad that Simba's dad dies.
Older self: And this is the part the scarred me, not the anti-Christian stuff. I haven't watched The Lion King for probably a decade because Mufasa's death is just too upsetting. In a lot of ways, this movie is geared toward a more mature audience than the princess movies. It's not about overcoming female stereotypes or finding your one true love; it's about learning from your mistakes and accepting responsibilities.

Younger self: Do bugs really taste like chicken? Maybe I'll try it . . .
Older self: I am 99.9% sure that this is a lie.

Younger self: "Hyenas. I hate hyenas." --Timon. Why doesn't Timon like hyenas? Isn't he like a baby hyena?
Older self: I'm still not sure what sort of animal Timon is.

Disney movies and viewer perception

I've been thinking about one of the ending lines from Hope Floats a lot lately: "Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome." I have been revisiting my childhood over the past few weeks as I've been steadily adding to my movie collection, primarily in the Disney/animated sector.

Sometimes, watching one of your favorite childhood movies proves quite disappointing; you finally realize that the mice in An American Tail slaughter "Somewhere Out There," and movies like Fern Gully simply have no appeal. Sometimes it becomes embarrassing to admit that you liked certain movies; Gallavants is a good example (not that I ever actually liked that movie; I just remember watching it a lot, if that makes any difference. I blame Tyrel). I regret watching these movies in my adulthood because it has forever tainted what were formerly happy and innocent memories.

Fortunately though, some movie makers do everything they can to make a movie appealing to both children and their parents, though they will have vastly different interpretations. It's been entertaining to watch some of my childhood classics from an adult perspective, suddenly understanding things I was confused about as a child while at the same time being a bit confused by some of my childhood interpretations. Even better though, some of those interpretations are the same today as they were when I was five years old, allowing those memories to live on untarnished.

For this blog post, I'm talking about four movies in particular: The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, and Anastasia. Read on, and I think you'll understand what I mean.

The Little Mermaid
Younger self: I want to watch this movie every day.
Older self: Maybe the reason I loved this movie so much was because (1) I (like the rest of my sisters) was a song bird and may have harbored a hope that a guy would fall in love with my voice, and (2) Ariel couldn't talk throughout most of the movie; that was definitely something I could relate to. It's not that I couldn't talk, I just didn't much, even when I wanted to. Or, maybe I just watched it all the time because Tiffany loved it too.

Younger self: I wonder how effective it would be to comb my hair with a fork.
Older self: I wonder how effective it would be to comb my hair with a fork.

Younger self: Eric is the handsomest Disney prince.
Older self: Eric is still the handsomest Disney prince. The fact that he actually has lines might have something to do with it.

Younger self: Wow, Ariel is 16? I can't wait until I'm all grown up like her.
Older self: Why aren't any of Ariel's older sisters married?

Younger self: "Part of Your World" is my favorite Disney song. The later scene when Ariel sings "I don't know when, I don't know how, but I know something's starting right now" as the waves build up behind her was especially powerful to me, even back then.
Older self: "Part of Your World" is still my favorite Disney song.

Younger self: Ariel's dad is mean.
Older self: King Triton loves his daughter very much.

Younger self: Ariel's dad is the king.
Older self: Hey, cool! Triton is totally part of Greek mythology!

Younger self: The Sea Witch is kind of scary.
Older self: The Sea Witch character is slightly inappropriate for children.

Younger self: Why did Triton make Sebastian Ariel's babysitter? She's way bigger than he is.
Older self: Sebastian is right; Ariel is a headstrong teenager.

Younger self: Why does Ariel's hair keep changing colors?
Older self: I wonder if it's possible to have hair as red as Ariel's.

Younger self: "The prince is marrying the Sea Witch in the sky!" Well that's a weird thing to do.
Older self: "The prince is marrying the Sea Witch in disguise!" That makes a lot more sense.

Younger self: The dress Ariel wears after her dad transforms her is the most beautiful dress in the world.
Older self: *chokes up when King Triton tells Sebastian that the only problem left was how much he was going to miss his daughter*

Aladdin
Younger self: Wow, Jasmine is almost 16. She's so grown up!
Older self: Jasmine's only 16! Why the heck are they trying to marry her off?!?! And it's no wonder no one wants to marry her; she's kind of an immature brat.

Younger self: Mom, what does it mean to have fleas?
Older self: Aladdin is awfully clean for a street rat.

Younger self: It is perfectly normal to have a pet tiger.
Older self: Do people really have pet tigers? Seems a bit suicidal to me.

Younger self: Jasmine's dad is a kind, old man.
Older self: What kind of ruler plays with his toys all day? And why is it that none of the Disney princesses have two parents?

Younger self: Aladdin is a princess movie.
Older self: Actually, it's not; the title is a pretty big clue.

Younger self: I don't understand half of what the Genie is talking about during the "Friend Like Me" song.
Older self: The lyrics to this song must have taken forever to write. And the Genie's references to other movies and such is almost Gilmore Girls worthy.

Younger self: I want to ride on a magic carpet.
Older self: I want to ride on a magic carpet.

Beauty and the Beast
Younger self: The opening shot is really pretty.
Older self: The opening shot is really pretty.

Younger self: Belle seemed older than the rest of the Disney princesses, approaching spinsterhood.
Older self: Which makes her, what, 18?

Younger self: The horse is smart like the appliances at the castle.
Older self: How did the horse find its way home? And how did the horse/Belle know where the castle was?

Younger self: "Try the grey stuff; it's delicious." I don't believe you.
Older self: I still don't believe you.

Younger self: Ooh, look at all the dancing dishes . . . oh look there's more, and, WOW! There's like a million of them! *completely mesmorized*
Older self: Um, what's the point of the multiplying dishes?

Younger self: "There may be something there that wasn't there before . . ." How come no one tells Chip "what's there"? I want to know what's there!
Older self: Ah, now I get it.

Younger self: Hey cool, even animated people eat cream of wheat for breakfast.
Older self: Actually, for some reason that still amuses me.

Younger self: I want that library!!
Older self: I WANT THAT LIBRARY!!!

Younger self: "You look so, so . . ." "Stupid." 10 minutes of laughter.
Older self: Still cause for sniggers.

Younger self: Why are the fireworks falling down from the sky?
Older self: I still don't get it.

Anastasia
Younger self: Dimitri is pretty handsome for an animated guy.
Older self: Dimitri is pretty handsome for an animated guy.

Younger self: The concept of Rasputin selling his soul/dying/not really being dead = confusing.
Older self: The fact that Rasputin is falling apart makes his temper tantrums quite funny.

Not-so-much-younger self: It's funny that Rasputin sings when he drowns in the ice.
Older self: Oh. The train was making that noise.

Younger self: I like the part where Dimitri runs into the wall.
Older self: I still like the part where Dimitri runs into the wall.

Younger self: Is this movie true?
Older self: Gah, this movie is such a good chick flick!

I may have to do a part 2 of this post when I get movies like Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, and Pocahontas; it's been at least 10-15 years since I have seen any of those, and my changed perception is bound to be more pronounced for those movies than it was for my three favorite Disney movies.

Cinderella, Cinderella

I have been watching a lot of Cinderella movies lately. When I get home from work, it's usually just me, my mom, and my little sister at home, and my mom and I usually have no energy to do much of anything—hence the chick flicks. I think it's safe to say that Cinderella is the ultimate chick flick—what girl doesn't want here very own Prince Charming? (Although I must say that I am more of a Beauty and the Beast type girl myself—I would rather melt a man's heart than to get a man that is already perfect.)

It is hard to say which Cinderella version is my favorite. There are, after all, so many to choose from.

Ever After. This movie has some of the best movie quotes of all time—many of them are Princess Bride worthy. My favorite is, "First I am arrogant, and now I have no pride; however do I manage that?" But "I shall go down in history as the man who opened the door!" is also quite awesome. I also think they did a really good job in catching the time period—what is is, the 16th century? And of course, I feel immensely smart whenever Danielle quotes Utopia because that is one of the few things I actually enjoyed reading in English 291. In addition to the classic quotes, this movie also has several classic funny parts. My favorite would have to be the sobbing French? girl. I watch this movie fairly regularly and it would probably win the top spot in my Cinderella list if it weren't for two things: the prince is a jerk and I don't like Drew Barrymore. I have mostly gotten past the prince-is-a-jerk thing, but Drew Barrymore will forever bug me.

Ella Enchanted. Ella Enchanted is one of my most favorite books in the world, and the movie is nothing like it. It is probably the most poorly made movie-based-on-a-book I have ever seen. However, because the movie is so different from the book, I am pretty much able to forget that it is based on a wonderfully crafted story and enjoy it for completely unoriginal movie that it is. I don't understand why I keep watching this movie. At times it is embarrassingly stupid, the "special effects" suck, and the sets just look fake. But I keep watching it anyway. I think the fact that it is a Cinderella parody is the only reason why I like it—there is no other logical reason.

The animated one. I haven't actually seen this one for a really long time. From what I remember, the prince is a very minor character, Cinderella and the prince can sing to each other without opening their mouths, the cat is always running into things and deforming its nose, the dog looks like Pluto, and the mice like to eat some sort of food that look like kernels of corn. But, it is still beloved because it is one of the classic Disney movies that I grew up with.

1960s Rogers and Hammerstein version. I could go on all day about this movie—I don't quite know where to start. I'm pretty sure there was no budget for this movie. The actors volunteered their time and the props were donated by kindergartners. (Who else would sincerely believe that trees are made out of colored paper?) And unfortunately, all of the men forgot their pants. The only one who gets to wear pants is the king—and he's wearing a dress. The prince is forced to don a shirt made out of shiny trash-bag material, and the commoners just have to stick with the tights and a non-shiny shirt. Most unfortunate. The acting and musical abilities are also severely lacking. The more I hear Cinderella sing the more I want her to shut up, and all of the prince's lines are hilariously badly delivered. My favorite lines are "I am DYING of thirst" and "I am fatigued"—the first one is wildly exaggerated and the second is matter-of-factly boring. However, the prince does have a rather lovely singing voice as long as you don't watch him too much. However, I absolutely love the music. Too bad no one can do it justice in this movie, except perhaps the prince. So if this movie is horribly acted and utterly embarrassing in every form, why do I keep watching it? Three reasons: (1) as mentioned before, I love the music, (2) it is insanely fun to make fun of, and (3) I grew up with this movie. There was a time when I thought Cinderella had a beautiful voice, when I thought her dress was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen, and the pantless men didn't bother me. Tiffany and I would take turns singing the girl part in "Ten Minutes Ago" and would sing along with the entire movie, lost in the magic of the music. Now watching this movie leaves much to be desired.

1990s Rogers and Hammerstein version. When I first discovered that the 1960s version was ridiculous, I was delighted to find that there was a more modern version available. However, it's not a whole lot better. I just can't get over the family tree—the mom is black, the dad is white, and the son is Chinese. I'm no biologist, but I'm pretty sure that's not how it works. The singing is SO much better, but the movie is just so weirdly made that I often find myself wishing for the old version while I'm watching it. Maybe some day someone will do that movie justice.

The Slipper and the Rose. I am glad to say that my current experience with this movie doesn't interfere with my childhood memories of it. Yes, some of the choreography is a bit stupid, but watching a bunch of old men dance on a table still makes me giggle. And yes, the prince isn't as amazing of a gymnast during his "What a Comforting Thing to Know" song as I once thought he was, but he is fun to watch all the same. I could listen to Richard Chamberlain sing all day, Gemma Craven is the perfect Cinderella—beautiful, sweet, and innocent—and the storyline makes more sense than most Cinderella plots. The movie is definitely a bit dated, but I will continue to watch it because it is just . . . good.

So which is my favorite Cinderella movie? I think it would be a tie between Ever After and The Slipper and the Rose. The Slipper and the Rose has the nostalgic element, and that counts for a lot. The music is wonderful and the actors can act (for the most part). Although I'm still not sure where the "rose" from the title comes from. I always thought I would understand that when I got older, but I'm still a bit confused by that. Hmm. Ever After is a good, modern fairy tale. The story has a believable plot and it tugs at my emotions more than any other Cinderella movie. It might be a tad above The Slipper and the Rose because I'm not always in the mood of watching a long musical.

I wonder if my Cinderella opinions will change at all after I'm married. All of these perfect romance movies might be distorting my vision a bit. But a girl can dream, can't she?