On race,
representation, and seeing ourselves and our histories on screen.
Since I went
pretty hard after Disney on topics of ethnicity and race yesterday, it seems
only fair to balance that with a post on 2009’s The Princess and
the Frog, the animated film that introduced Tiana, Disney’s first
African American princess. (I suppose I could also have balanced that Peter Pan post with one on Pocahontas [1995],
but that’ll have to be a topic for another time—or feel free to share your
takes on it in comments now!) The film represented a shift or evolution for
Disney not only in that particular protagonist and her identity, but also in
its striking blend of a classic fairy tale (the Brother
Grimm’s “Frog Prince”) with a very specific historical and cultural moment
and setting (the African American community and its contexts and connections in
1920s New Orleans). It was a box office, critical, and awards-season success, and
I think is hugely significant on at least two distinct but interconnected levels.
For one thing, I
think it’s difficult to overstate the importance of a community of American
audience members (and particularly youthful audience members) seeing a
protagonist whose appearance and identity mirror their own. In a post
last February I wrote about Philip Nel’s work on the controversy of young
adult publishers “whitewashing”
their covers and marketing efforts, changing or at least minimizing the
ethnic and racial identities of the works’ protagonists in the images that
represent those characters. Of course a novel’s reader can encounter the
protagonist through his or her own lens in any case, but those visual images
and representations have a strong influence on an audience’s perceptions, and
again especially youthful audiences. And far more influential still would be
the images of an animated protagonist, whose appearance and identity so fully
guide our viewing of that work. So the presence of an African American Disney
princess in such a film and for its audiences is to my mind far from simply a
token or a gesture.
But I would
argue that at least as important is the film’s aforementioned historical and
cultural setting. I’ve waxed poetic multiple
times in this space about New
Orleans as an exemplary American space, and The Princess and the Frog engages with multiple sides to that place
and its histories, from the Creole community and voodoo
customs and spiritualities to the city’s histories of masquerades and even
the meanings of particularly significant local settings such as St. Louis Cathedral. I also think that
the decision to set the film in the 1920s is an important and effective one, tapping
into ongoing post-19th century histories, to segregation, and to
concurrent contemporary trends such as the Harlem Renaissance, allowing its
youthful audiences not only to connect with Tiana and her world, but also and
crucially to recognize that world’s distinct yet still ongoing and resonant histories
and stories. Pretty inspiring for a Disney film!
Next animated
history tomorrow,
Ben
PS.
What do you think? Thoughts on this film, or other animated histories and
stories you’d highlight?
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