Dissecting Disney

Remember a time when things were so simple?

Back when good overthrew evil, the guy got the girl, and your children hadn’t sucked the life out of you? When you were a child, loving nothing more than to snuggle in front of the TV and watch a Disney movie with your parents or siblings? Remember watching with awe the fantastical magic playing out on the screen in front of you?

Do you remember with childlike glee your favourite princess, or hero, or talking animal?

Are you there yet?

Is it all coming back?

But you had to grow up, didn’t you? There was no magic fairy dust for you and as the years passed you grew bitter. Why couldn’t you go and live in Never-Neverland? Where was your Prince Charming ready to whisk you away to a castle? Where was your fairytale princess who would be your everything?

Adulthood sucks. We all want to go back there, to a time when elephants could fly and sleeping princesses would wake from their slumber once their prince kissed them. It was a magical time, a time full of wonder, it was…it was…all lies.

Yes, what you just heard was the record scratching and the pretty music stop.

Sorry about that.

Disney lied to us, and not just Disney, it goes back further than that, but it is Disney who popularised these stories and put them in our homes for us to enjoy as children and have our children enjoy them just as much.

The older you get the more cynical you become, and this is born out of never getting to kiss the princess, seeing every day that good doesn’t always triumph evil, and most importantly, realise that no matter how much glitter you throw up into the air to land on your head, you will not fly. Go on, give it a go if you think I’m lying, climb that tower block all glittered up and step out singing, ‘We can fly! We can fly!’

I’ll look forward to seeing your sparkly bloody mess splattered across the pavement on the ten o’clock news.

No, Peter, all it takes isn’t faith and trust, oh, and pixie dust. It’s lies, all lies. 

Let us journey together, to a magical land where animals can talk and human pre-pubescent “princesses” can understand what it is they’re twittering on about, or are mentally ill. Hey, while we’re at it while cooking and cleaning for our step-mother and two step-sisters, let's make the entire rodent infestation little tops and hats to wear so that they might do our bidding for us behind the scenes.

Yes, your dad died of the incurable cartoon cough of death, it’s very sad, I’m sure he was lovely (we never really got to know him so didn’t form the same emotional attachment I’m sure you had with him Cindy) but you’re nineteen years old love. Your wicked step-mother and sisters aren’t Josef Fritzl, they didn’t lock you down in a cellar all your life. On the contrary, you’ve got pretty sweet digs. Sure, your room might be a little drafty but I’d bet you’d still make a killing listing it on Airbnb. Throw in the birds which get you dressed in the morning and you’d be on to a winner.

Or leave.

Fuck off.

Pack a bag (or have the birds and mice do it for you…lazy) and walk down the road and get a job. You have experience in the cleaning industry, make something happen for yourself instead of waiting, sulking and crying like a petulant little child because your two minging step-siblings are nasty to you. You’re nineteen for fu…actually, you are the oldest of the Disney “princesses” we will be covering, get a life, and stop talking to vermin…that kind of personality trait won’t get you far in life…oh, unless one night when you’re crying again because your life is so awful, some pissed up fat fairy happens upon you and sends you off to a ball where you’re a right cock tease and leave just before the man of your dreams gets your name. Thank God for your deformed mini feet otherwise, the story of Cinderella would have just been called The Night The Cleaner Almost Got Laid.

From Disney princesses who weren’t held captive to one who was, Belle. Oh, Belle. The bookworm who the entire town thought was a bit weird because she read (obviously a grossly illiterate town). That is, apart from the town’s celebrity Gaston, who sees the seventeen-year-old and fancies himself some.

Belle doesn’t like Gaston though, she likes books and her senile father. Her dad gets lost in the woods one night even though he was following a road when he set off to town. He gets lost and winds up at a spooky gargoyle castle then goes inside like a complete nutter. Who should be there but of course a giant bear/wolf/man mutant…and talking inanimate objects because nothing is inanimate in a Disney picture, everything is very much animated.

After dad’s horse fucks off and leaves him, it manages to find its way back through the woods to Belle, she then, sharing her old man’s nutter gene, asks the horse (who doesn’t talk but understands full well what she is asking) to take her to her dad.

Let me stop there.

What sort of psychopath is this horse? It has just witnessed his master getting captured, has made his way back to safety and then decided to take the only other person who will feed him straight into the jaws of danger too.

Belle finds her dad, has a bit of a chat with bear/wolf/man mutant man and offers herself up in exchange for her dad’s freedom. Very noble cartoon “princess” but come on. What sort of scared seventeen-year-old girl from a tiny French town would muster up enough courage to do this? She’s not street. She hasn’t got mad people skills. If you ask me I’m reckoning on her being on the spectrum. Not proper Autistic, but enough not to realise what she’s doing by not thinking things through entirely.

So dad leaves…because that’s what dads would do. His only daughter, his little princess, mum dead, he’s old, there’s no chance he’s making anymore…but he just ups and leaves, a deal’s a deal after all.

And Belle becomes The Beast’s prisoner…who he lets have the whole run of the castle (apart from the west wing because he’s wrecked the place and he has a magical flower). Call me cynical, but it doesn’t feel like she’s a prisoner. There are no iron bars and food rations, she gets meals prepared for her because ‘she’s our guest, she’s our guest’, yeah, shut up candlestick.

This is all very fantastical and Disneyesque, but this is where shit gets darker. If you scratch below the surface we watch as this clueless young lady develops Stockholm syndrome, which is a psychological response that occurs when hostages or abuse victims form a bond with their captor or abusers. Forget the fact she has long chats with a teapot, ignore her having “girl talks” with a wardrobe, and what you’re left with is a very damaged girl who falls in love with a bear/wolf/man mutant. She even calls him Beast, I mean say what you see why don’t you. At least find out what his name is love. Imagine being named after your physical appearance and the way you conduct yourself. I for one do not take to the name Pot-bellied Smirky Sarcastic Wanker Radcliffe (or Rob for short) and I’m sure our bear/wolf/man mutant doesn’t either.

So she falls in love with him, and it is all very well Belle getting jiggy with Beast once he’s shed his fur, beams of light flying out of his finger and toes (obviously) and his long chestnut locks replacing the bear/wolf/man mutant fuzz, but…are you seriously telling me she didn’t mess about with him before his 60-minute makeover? All those cold nights in that chilly castle with only a clock, a candlestick and a fucking teapot for company? Knowing just a few doors down there was an angry (horny) comfort blanket she could spend the night with? No? Not even when he gave her the library? That was a smooth move. I bet Belle was coughing up fur balls for weeks.

In researching for this post, and by researching I mean watching Disney movies, I found there was quite a sinister pattern emerging. All these chicks are teenagers. Some “of age” or “ripe”…sorry, I don’t mean ripe, I mean legal, but other Disney princesses were pretty young.

Let’s go back…way back to the beginning. Snow White. Now, I’m not even going to look at this from the obvious seven horny little men angle, it’s too easy and it has been done to death in porn…errrr, my friend told me. No. Snow White was fourteen years old. The fairest of the land ended up lost in the woods and was taken in by seven “kindly” circus performers…I mean miners. She ate the apple and fell into the coma…we all know the story. Then Prince Florin came along and kissed her and woke her up and they lived happily ever after, it’s all very Disney and very family-friendly.

Except.

The prince is between TWENTY-SEVEN and THIRTY-ONE years old. This makes him twenty-nine if my maths serves me. What the fuck is a twenty-nine-year-old paedo prince doing snogging fourteen-year-olds?

(Probably wondering if she has a younger sister?)

No, come on Disney, what are you thinking here?

First, this unfortunate girl has a hit taken out on her, then she winds up with seven weird little men who live together, then she ends up in a coma, and who should you have ride in to save the day? A guy who should probably be on some sort of list so the authorities can keep an eye on him. There is no happy ending here. Snow White is still a minor and ends up being groomed by a prince. That is what you are telling our children. Cheers Walt.

Abduction, grooming…sulky ADULTS who make clothes for rodents…there really is no hope. That said though, there is no Disney story more sinister than our next tale.

This is the tale of an old toymaker who fashions himself a wooden puppet but wants a real boy (sick of getting splinters in his nob probably). 

Don’t ask me why he didn’t go down the adoption route, it doesn’t go into detail, and this isn’t about Geppetto, this is about the possessed doll…the possessed doll who runs away from home after remembering what the old man used to get up to on those long lonely nights back at the cottage perhaps?

So Pinocchio, the lying little shit, learns nothing in this tale of humility and doing the right thing. Only that if he lies and runs away he’ll wind up with all the other little shits smoking cigars and drinking ale which will inevitably lead to turning into a donkey and later getting eaten by a whale. I mean what on earth is that supposed to even teach our kids?

Also, Jiminy Cricket?

‘Sorry I murdered all those people judge, the insect had a day off and I was left to my own devices.’

It makes no sense whatsoever.

And then, after ignoring his “conscience” all the way through the film, smoking, and drinking and lying a hell of a lot more than any little boy would, wooden or otherwise, Pinocchio is turned into a real boy anyway and he and Geppetto rejoice. Well, Geppetto rejoiced, it was him who wanted a sex doll in the first place, and now he had a real boy sex doll.

You never see the next day.

There is no sequel to this film.

That’s because little boy who started off life as tree is spirited away by social services the next day. Geppetto was on the watch list…of course he was on the watch list…where Prince Florin should have been really. When a guy goes to these extreme lengths to fashion himself a “son,” people are watching.

And don’t even get me started on Peter Pan. A horny immortal kid abducts the thirteen-year-old posh totty and brings her brothers along for the ride for kicks (and to watch), all the while his jealous flying pet sparkle rat tries desperately to kill the object of Peter’s sordid desires…it’s no wonder Hook behaved how he did. Look at this from his point of view. A sulky, flying, little shit keeps creating drama for you and abducting civvies, bringing them to the magic island you reluctantly share…wouldn’t you want rid?

Disney really does have a way of sugar-coating the reality of these bedtime stories.

Take The Little Mermaid for instance. Now, I was as thrilled as anyone when Ariel received her legs so that she could walk on land because she was all horny about Eric. The fact he was just two years older than the sixteen-year-old Ariel means Disney has been closing the age gap between love interests…another thumbs up…but, legs or no legs, Ariel is a sea creature. Now, I’m quite partial to a bit of Sea bass, I’d never turn down a Tuna steak, but even still, like The Beast, Ariel is a mutant. Even more so in fact. She was born fish. There was no disgruntled fairy who turned her into a mermaid.

Don’t get me wrong, out of all the fish species and sea-dwelling creatures there is out there, the mermaid is definitely the most agreeable on the eyes, but even so, Ariel is effectively a tarted-up Cod.

What if Eric was vegetarian?

I’m just not quite sure how the relationship would ever work out. Sure, the sea mutant gets her legs at the end of the movie but even so, how long would she take in the bathroom in the mornings? Once those taps were turned on she’d be a quivering wreck blubbering about how much she missed home.

Now you may notice I’ve stuck to the cartoons staring humans, but let’s think outside of the box for a moment. Bambi, yes, that little mute venison steak on legs. Now at the beginning of Bambi his mother dies. I know, I know, I still have nightmares too, it’s all very sad. No, she didn’t die of the contagious cartoon cough of death this time, she was shot by a hunter.

That bastard hunter!

Has he no soul?

Why would he do such a thing, poor Bambi is now an orphan!

Well, I’ll tell you why he “murdered” Bambi’s mum, because he’s a hunter and just beyond the woods is where his little log cabin is. Where his wife and three children wait, stomachs empty, hoping daddy returns with some food today.

Daddy did return with some food. They had Bambi mum steak that night, and the following night they had Bambi mum stew. His wife fashioned a nice warm Bambi mum blanket to fight off the chill of the night, and they all fell asleep happily digesting an orphaned deer’s parent. Had Bambi not hid, I dare say they’d be eating more of that particular linage the next night and the night after too. The hunter is not the baddie in this story. If anything he is the hero, he saves his family. Why does everyone care so much about a little baby deer?

I don’t know.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe I should allow my children to still watch these movies, I mean a little child abduction, Paedophilia, Beastiality, mental illness, and venison steak can’t be that bad for our children to witness, right Walt?

© 2020 byRob Radcliffe / Privacy Policy