Running Through the Forest with Disney

As anyone who likes fairy tales knows, it is impossible to ignore the outsized influence of Disney. Many of the stories we think of as universal are really our collective watching of movies made by The Mouse. I personally have no problem with this because I love a good fairy tale re-telling (although I admit some are not that good) and my favorite is Robin Hood.

My first animated crush

I know what you’re thinking. Robin Hood is not a fairy tale. Well, you’re right. It’s a legend, which I like to think of as an older fairy tale. There is no magic, but the Disney version created whimsy by making all the characters animals. I think it’s an inspired touch that they made Robin a fox because of their popularity in fairy tales and fables as clever. My idea of an ideal guerilla army would have a fox at its head (not a mixed metaphor!), but that’s another post.

It was my first animated crush and my first love story. Robin Hood was dashing, brave and pined for Maid Marian, who he’d known since childhood. I didn’t care that the accents were all over the place (why was Allen-a-Dale a Texan, Friar Tuck and Little John from the Midwest, various characters from the American South and only Robin, Marian, Prince John, and Hiss from England?) or that the music was decidedly 70s folk. I just loved the pageantry, the adventure and the love story. And of course Lady Kluck, who was my secret hero and gave me hope that woman (even a chicken) can fight their own battles in a story.

I also attribute Disney’s Robin Hood for starting my interest in history, Anglophilia, and stories in general. All my favorite things came together in one animated package. I’m not even ashamed to admit that on nights I can’t sleep I often quote the entire movie and play it in my head from beginning to end! I saw other live action versions, but none compared to that first experience.

I’m not entirely sure why I wrote this post other than to say that when the world seems crazy and truly horrible things are happening, it’s hard to imagine that something as trivial as fairy tales are important. Stories matter. Taking walks through the forest, real or metaphorical, can lead to the unexpected—escapism or maybe a calling.

Did a story ever steer you toward something? A life choice? A career? A life-long love affair?

Losing it

I’ve been thinking about loss and fairy tales lately. It’s the prologue to most stories, shaping the hero’s or heroine’s current misfortune. Be they motherless, fatherless, or orphans loss is the beginning of a story in fairy tales. Disney has made this fact into a cliché. It’s been joked that Frozen didn’t become a true Disney movie until (spoiler alert) the parents are lost at sea. I almost think it’s pointless to warn you of the spoiler because as I mentioned before, it’s Disney’s hallmark.So what can fairy tales tell us about loss? Is it the impetus that makes ordinary people into heroes? Do princesses (or would be princesses) jump at the chance to marry royal strangers because of “daddy issues”? Are feelings of abandonment just the push a boy needs to take on giants and consider thievery as a way of life? Maybe yes, but maybe nothing so blatant.As a historian, I’m aware that these stories were written in a time when disease, war or poverty would likely tear apart families. But fairy tales don’t care about the mundane. They focus on the fantastical, spinning tales that take us out of the everyday. Wouldn’t you want to escape a reality in which becoming orphaned probably only meant a life of impoverishment and servitude? In the real world, Cinderella would have grown old and haggard at the beck and call of those three spiteful cats. Or she would have run away to the city and been forced into prostitution to survive.But I’m not just a historian. I’m a person with whimsy who sees imprisoned souls in strangely shaped trees. All it takes is a too bright moon and I immediately start to spin a tale about a community of nightwalkers affected by its phases, collecting magical Moonshine. Not all the ideas become a full-fledged story, but more than a fair share get filed in my ideas folder. And one of the most basic things everyone wonders about is death and loss, so why isn’t it a prominent feature in fairy tales? Sleeping Beauty side-steps it with a sleeping spell meant to keep her in suspended animation for a century waiting for her “true love.” Snow White is barely cold in her glass coffin before Prince Charming comes along and dislodges the chunk of apple the dwarves were clearly too short to Heimlich. Red Riding Hood and her grandmother are swallowed whole by the Wolf only to be cut out of his belly by the Woodsman. Even the newest old story, Frozen, gives us a heroine who sacrifices her life and is rewarded by it being returned to her.In my search for loss in fairy tales, I came across a story from my childhood. It falls under folklore and legend more than fairy tale, and is a popular story in Puerto Rico. It’s called La Leyenda de la Piedra del Perro, or The Legend of Dog Rock. Not far from El Morro in Old San Juan there’s a small beach with a long natural rock wall. At its tip is a rock formation that when looked at from the right angle resembles a sitting dog.The story goes that a soldier, Enrique, from back when Puerto Rico was part of Spain, was stationed there, far from home and lonely for companionship. One day he finds an injured and emaciated puppy whom he nurses back to health with food and love. In return the dog never leaves his side and becomes his best friend. As is inevitable with all soldiers, Enrique is called to a battle which requires him to leave the dog behind. They part tearfully and as the boat carrying his human companion sails away, the dog (called Amigo) swims to the rock wall and sits there from sun up to sundown awaiting his return. There’s a brutal battle in which all hands, including Enrique, are lost. The dog overhears the news and rushes out to the wall waiting without respite. He stays so long and so still he turns to stone and remains there to this day.I’m not sure what that story teaches us. On the one hand loss is something that can’t be gotten over and you can remain stuck in a moment of despair without moving on. Or it could mean that loss forces out the very nature of a being. For the dog, it was loyalty. It could be said that for the characters of popular fairy tales, it was a desire to be more or escape their current situation. In both cases, it led to profound change. Fairy tales teach us that no matter how mundane today might seem and yesterday was, tomorrow could be extraordinary--either good or ill. They teach us that loss is not the end of the story.