Frozen
(2013)
(SPOILERS) I should probably have caught this ages ago, but instead
I just let it go. Does Frozen mean
something extra in terms of quality, or have added resonance, because it turned out to be such a huge
hit? After all, whilst it was generally well reviewed, no one anticipated the
movie as the enormous crowd-pleaser and cultural phenomenon it became. Talk
comparing it to the Disney renaissance, which included a Best Picture
nomination for Beauty and the Beast,
can only account for it being a hearty success, not one of this magnitude.
Surely this was just the latest in a long line of reinvented fairy-tales, sticking
closely to the formula of the retitled mix-up with a modern sensibility that was
Tangled? A good, solid, sassy, smart
update, but nothing really ground-breaking. Clearly, though, it struck a major
chord, which is why so many column inches have been devoted to analysing and debating
its particular merits and its political and/or sexual mores. But that doesn’t
de facto make it a greater or lesser beast. Frozen
is a good movie, and (obviously, John Lasseter exec-produced it) an extremely
well-made movie, with a central relationship that is affectingly, if obviously,
played out (at least until the smart twist on classic reversals that come with
enchantments), but I’d be hard-pressed to argue its case as the best thing
since The Little Mermaid ushered in a
new age of animation in 1989 or one that nuzzles comfortably with the best of
Pixar.
Of course, the best of Pixar is now an increasingly distant
reflection in cinema’s rear view mirror. Frozen
was released at the tail-end of a very average year for animation, one in which
nothing from the major studios pushed the boat out in terms of creativity or
originality. Even given the positive advanced word, Frozen shouldn’t really have been much different. An adaptation of
Hans Christian Anderson’s The Snow Queen
had first been mooted as part of a biography of the author back in 1937, then failed
to take flight in the 1990s before being re-embraced post-Tangled. Even then, it took Lasseter to steer it from the
traditional tack of a villainous Queen towards something more nuanced. If the
‘power of love” message of the original story remains intact, the conversion
from a traditional boy-girl focus to that of estranged siblings is revealed as a
surprisingly potent and accessible one. Hey, if only Disney had known there was
this much money to be made from sisterly strife! Cue numerous imitators, none of
which attain a sliver of Frozen’s
impact. I’m not sure there’s any other straightforward way to explain the
success. You can cite the songs, which apparently are recited ad infinitum by young moppets to the distraction of any
in the vicinity, but they aren’t going to get on board with them if they don’t
care about the central relationship.
Speaking of moppets, I wasn’t overly convinced by the
opening passages of the picture. The attempts to establish the setting stumble
somewhat, overloading with cutesy kid versions of Anna and Elsa, concerned
parents and wise trolls (wise trolls? Now
that’s an inversion). Understandably, writer-directors Chris Buck and
Jennifer Lee are trying to get to the point where the story proper begins as
quickly as they possibly can. Yet this seems to consist of Anna (voiced by
Kristin Bell) knocking on sister Elsa’s (Idina Menzel) bedroom door for about a
decade, to no avail. Parents are dispensed with in the blink of an eye and
before you know it, it’s Elsa’s coronation.
From here, up to and including Let It Go, the picture is at its most vital and that’s wholly down
to the focus on Elsa. It’s not quite a stroke of genius, but nevertheless a fairly
perceptive one, to evoke sympathy for the traditional villain (it seems
Disney’s attempting something of that ilk again with Malificient, but I haven’t seen it yet to comment; still, there’s
another fairy tale villainess who has gone great guns when shown to be simply
misjudged), and Elsa is a much more interesting character than Anna. At this
point it appears all the fears presented by her parents, the trolls (Ciaran
Hinds as their king), and most of all herself are actualised; that hiding one’s
true nature is best. And maybe it isn’t so bad; she is granted a glam makeover,
like the lead singer of Roxette only
with more hair. It’s only later that the theme of love conquering crystallises
(still, what this means for the next time Elsa’s emotions are piqued, Carrie-like, is left unexplored;
probably best to wrap things up while the going’s good). Her flight from the palace, to the cries of “Monster!”, evokes Frankenstein’s unsympathetic villagers and so encapsulates the
misunderstood innocent theme. It’s one Disney is usually far too black-and-white
to get behind, no matter how hip and jive they makes the surface baubles.
Let It Go is a
decent tune; the only memorable one in the movie (sorry to all those who have
been cursed with recitals of the entire repertoire, so proving me wrong), in a
Eurovision power ballad kind of way. It has a lot of gusto, and gusto is good,
and more importantly it doesn’t fall into the typical musical trap of
half-arsed spoken songs where the tune seems like an afterthought to the
plot-advancing/thematically-burdened lyrics.
Most importantly it has emotional clout; fear and repression can be
dispensed with in Elsa’s solitary retreat, but loneliness must also be wholly
embraced. Everything else here sounds like typical Disney song writing maths,
right down to the chipper Snowman number.
What of the suggested subtext of coming-out versus repressing
one’s sexuality? It’s an easy-to-appreciate interpretation (when shorn of the negative
spin brought by the Christian evangelical movement), and it’s difficult to
believe it didn’t at least occur to the directors (although they are consistently
non-committal), but it doesn’t really
hold up against the broader brush of being allowed to be who you are (indeed,
it arguably gets a bit tricky if Elsa is positioned as the nominal antagonist;
until she is accepted for who she is). Or of just feeling different; since most
kids tend to see themselves at odds with the world at some point, Elsa’s
situation has more relatability than Anna’s simpering virtue.
Anna is pretty much your averagely typical modern Disney
fairy princess. Even if she’s allowed to be headstrong and (ultimately)
non-motivated by the desire for a mate, she is rewarded with a good strong
honest-and-true partner for her pains. She can be a little shallow (getting
engaged on a first date), but her good intentions are never in any doubt. We
can see easily enough that the all-important act of true love thawing a frozen
heart will be a case of misdirection in respect of Hans (Santino Fontana), so
the double twist that it isn’t Kristoff (Jonathan Groff) either is a sprightly
one. The hat trick is that neither is it Elsa called upon to express the love she
holds within for her sister; Anna must sacrifice herself. Frozen manages to successfully subvert expectations in this regard
at least, which is some achievement for a family movie. Anna’s act further
emphasises the theme of self-empowerment; rather than receiving salvation and affirmation
from another, it is giving that instils completeness (albeit, Elsa needs some
small help along the way to actualising her
feelings of self-worth). It’s about as responsible as a Disney moral gets.
Still, making Anna more of a character in her own right might have been an
added bonus; she only becomes so when reflected by Elsa; she’s so good and kind
and pure, despite de rigueur attempts to make her forward and impulsive etc.
So, when it all comes out in the wash, this still manages to
be a wholly traditional piece. The Queen isn’t rewarded with a partner; she has
to make do with platonic love. Anna gets the prize for undiluted wholesomeness.
Even the reveal of the villain isn’t all that subversive. Hans’ unveiling as the bad guy seemingly comes
out of nowhere. One might suggest it’s a neat but unsubtle commentary on the
Prince Charming myth; but Anna don’t need him since she’s a princess already. She
can afford to opt for a whacky guy who talks for his reindeer. To be fair, this
also signifies the roots of the story wherein Anna ends up with the simple
peasant lad since she wasn’t a princess in the first place (but we’re all princesses in Disneyland!) Hans’
turnabout is more understandable in context; the script changed from not
featuring him at all, to his being there but not a villain, to becoming an
outrageous psychopath. The final choice works thematically, and it’s clear the
writers had figured out and justified it, but as delivered it’s a bit Scooby Doo.
As ever, the comic relief is note-perfect. This is probably
because most animators’ hearts lie with the fun, properly “cartoonish”
characters they grew up drawing. The downside of this approach is something
like the expertly crafted but one-note Get
a Horse! short that preceded showings of Frozen. It’s a nostalgic hearkening back to original Mickey Mouse hand
drawn stylings mixed with up-to-date CGI, as the characters break through a
cinema screen. But there’s nothing to it beyond the technical prowess,
certainly not enough to take up six minutes (it isn’t a surprise in retrospect
that it didn’t garner the Best Animated Short Oscar). In Frozen itself, the humorous goods are delivered by Josh Gad’s naïve
snowman Olaf, a cavalcade of facile charm, “And
I like warm hugs”. We also meet silent Sven the reindeer, who isn’t allowed
to talk (Snowmen doing yakking is fine, but the line has to be drawn somewhere)
so Kristoff has to do it for him. It’s a
sign of an undernourished animation if the funny supporting turns become the
sought after respite from unengaging leads or a drowsy main narrative (a prime
example of this is the Ice Age series,
with Scrat valiantly keeping the boat afloat). In Frozen the laughs have their place and aren’t required to do more
than their fair quota.
Wikipedia reels off a string of box office figures telling
you how Frozen is just about the best
of the best, including the highest grossing animated feature ever worldwide. A
stage musical is imminent and no doubt Frozen
fever will pervasively consume theme parks shortly, if hasn’t already. It’s the
aftershocks that appal; one only has to dip into the (limited) extras on the
Blu-ray release to be greeted by the sickeningly upbeat Disneyfication of every
element, from an all-singing, all-dancing “Making of” to the deification of
dear old bigot Walt himself. There has
been reticence over plunging straight into a sequel, which might be regarded as
an indication of standards until one considers the usual Disney practice is to
churn out straight-to-video knock-offs so bypassing expectations of quality.
Lee at least wants to make something different; she’s working on the screenplay
of A Wrinkle in Time.
So what makes Frozen
so special? Is it really so much better than Tangled? Or the underrated Brave?
Without the benefit of being one of the target audience I’d say no. But then,
like Dr Evil, I may have been partially frozen. Perhaps it’s down to the slap
in the face to traditional “good” heroines (although it still has one). Maybe
it’s the universally recognised sibling tension (which can extend to any BFF of
course, if you’re an only child). Disney have a handle on livening up their
fairy tales, but Frozen explores
something that is likely extra-normative; Brave
couldn’t muster the same repeat visits for its mother-daughter relationship
(and okay, it wasn’t a musical either). Nor Tangled
for its essentially trad-romance. One thing is certain; if the Mouse House
could put this animated alchemy on tap, they’d be pouring out a Frozen every year.
***1/2
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