Fairy Tale and Film

Beastly
(Daniel Barnz, 2011)
 
and 
Bruce Almighty
(Tom 
Shadyac, 2003) men undergo a transformation through supernatural 
means designed to teach them a lesson, firmly repudiating vanity and 
self-interest. Reworking ‘Beauty and the Beast’ with an inverted ‘King 
Thrushbeard’, an engagement with feminism is again apparent, recon-
ceiving masculine attributes in line with new gender roles and chang-
ing family structures. Notably, if women are urged to get themselves a 
career in the preceding chapter, rather than placing their faith in love, 
these narratives ask male protagonists to put their personal lives first 
in order to become better partners and fathers – thereby achieving the 
happiness and satisfaction craved. These films are thus deemed progres-
sive in terms of reconsidering gender identity as mutable rather than 
fixed, notably approving caring nurturing men, although conflicts 
arising from changing masculine ideals are also acknowledged. The 
chapter concludes with a contrasting examination of male figures who 
are unable to ‘mature’ in the same way, assessing 
Edward Scissorhands
(Tim Burton, 1990), 
AI: Artifi cial Intelligence
(Steven Spielberg, 2001), 
Lawn Dogs
(John Duigan, 1997) and 
Sling Blade
(Billy Bob Thornton, 
1996) with reference made to 
Pinocchio
and 
Peter Pan
– concluding 
that masculinity is multiply inflected in these narratives, reminding us 

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Introduction 
17
that being male does not automatically confer privilege, and that male 
rivalry (although rarely discussed as much as female rivalry) can prove 
equally divisive and destructive.
Chapter 3 moves the analysis from comedies to crime. Social advance-
ment through wits, cunning and dishonesty (and sometimes a level of 
extraordinary good fortune) is often approved as the means to get ahead 
in tales such as ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ or ‘Ali Baba’, creating the wish-
fulfilment fantasy of earning a fortune without having to labour, as well 
as outwitting powerful figures such as kings, ogres and career criminals. 
Yet many cautionary tales also warn against greed, advice that a number 
of crime dramas corroborate in ‘heist gone wrong’ plots and scenarios 
in which lucky finds prove to be the exact opposite. Cinema’s question-
ing of materialism is examined via three such examples, 
Shallow Grave
(Danny Boyle, 1994), 
A Simple Plan 
(Sam Raimi, 1999) and 
No Country 
for Old Men 
(Joel and Ethan Cohen, 2007), narratives that reprise the 
concern – voiced in a number of fairy tales – that greed brings out the 
worst in us, with no such thing as easy money. The chapter also includes 
some cases where crime does pay, providing examples of female schem-
ers who evade punishment, as well as some interesting political thrillers 
in which riches are redistributed to those deemed most deserving. The 
capitalist imperative to get ahead, by any means necessary, is strongly 
criticised in many such films, yet a desire to see underdogs triumph is 
a vicarious pleasure for audiences, regardless of merit, as the conflict-
ing impulses towards money as eminently desirable, yet also invariably 
tainted, make clear.
A well-known tale that foregrounds the peril of putting profit first is 
Perrault’s chilling portrayal of a tyrannical husband, ‘Bluebeard’. The 
latest of his wives marries for money yet realises the terrible cost when 
he is exposed as a serial-killing fiend, and only narrowly escapes death. 
The fourth chapter takes this central tale, and variants like ‘The Robber 
Bridegroom’ and ‘Fitcher’s Bird’, and examines the continued currency 
of ‘damsel in distress’ narratives. The tale’s cinematic legacy includes 
Gothic melodramas and modern-day thrillers, and a range of films are 
cited as emblematic of the transition the imperilled heroine has under-
gone – serving not only as victims, but as empowered investigators 
who often thwart their attacker single-handedly. The heroine of