Fairy Tale and Film
examples for women, asking how they might be deployed as a means
of interrogating gender roles, and questioning whether they shore up
patriarchal concerns – or might potentially undermine them. Writers
have been inspired by such thinking to rewrite heroines in some inter-
esting ways, and a number of cinematic variations provide the oppor-
tunity to question the extent to which archetypes have altered, with
‘Cinderella’ proving especially influential as a source text for contem-
porary romantic comedies. The rom-com is a genre that is often either
overlooked or critically derided, without adequate attention paid to its
capacity to surprise us – much like Cinderella herself in some ways. Is
romance idealised in the genre, or comically undermined? In what way
has feminist criticism – and accompanying socio-cultural changes –
impacted on narratives and the differing aspirations shown? Are
modern-day Cinderellas still waiting for a prince, or making their own
way in the world via college courses and careers? And why have appar-
ently progressive features been either ignored, or otherwise accused of
being insincere to feminist aims?
In his account of the Lurie–Lieberman debate, Jack Zipes gives Lurie
remarkably short shrift, claiming ‘most feminist critics tend to agree
with Lieberman’ (1984: 5), yet in retrospect Lieberman arguably fares
worst – demonstrating an extremely limited knowledge of fairy tales, using
ques tionable means to support her argument (evaluating tales from a
century-old collection) and simplistically assuming a direct influence
on audiences without a shred of evidence.
2
While Lurie’s claims largely
met with a hostile reception they have since been corroborated by scho-
lastic research into the transition fairy tales have undergone (from oral
to print form) as well as further exploration of differing tales – and hero-
ines – around the world. Her landmark article, ‘Fairy Tale Liberation’
(1970), may have made a bold claim in contending that fairy tales
‘suggest a society in which women are as competent and active as men,
at every age, and in every class’ (1970: 42)
3
– yet presents an important
case for the defence that was integral to reinvigorating feminist interest
in fairy tales. Where Lieberman flatly refuted Lurie’s ideas, others tested
and elaborated them. For example, in her follow-up article, ‘Witches
and Fairies’ (1971), Lurie asserted that fairy tales may constitute the
first women’s literature – with female figures often the main focus of
their content and the main gender responsible for their dissemination –
an idea subsequently developed by feminist scholars,
4
while her point
that fairy tales underwent an editing process largely conducted by men
would be further explored by Zipes (ironically enough) similarly assert-
ing that a matrilineal past, reflected in oral tales, became obscured by
Finding Love and Fulfilling Dreams
23
male collectors. Lieberman was uninterested in either the history or the
range of fairy tales, emphasising instead what a select number are per-
ceived to do, yet makes a number of assumptions about their negative
effect, claiming they ‘reward submissive, meek and passive behaviour’ in
females and reflect a bias against ‘the active assertive “pushy” woman’,
arguing that those ‘who have power, or seek it, are nearly always por-
trayed as repulsive’. Her final point is that marriage is the sole approved
ambition for females, likening fairy tales to ‘training manuals for girls’.
5
Kay Stone’s ‘Things Walt Disney Never Told Us’ (1975) offered an
interesting middle ground in some respects. Affirming Lurie’s claim that
alternatives to the ‘passive’ heroine exist, she particularly commends
the lead characters in British tales ‘Kate Crackernuts’ (ATU 306/711) and
‘Molly Whuppie’ (ATU 327B), whose chief attributes are courageous-
ness and cleverness.
6
As Stone argues, ‘active heroines are not victims
of hostile forces beyond their control but are instead challengers who
confront the world rather than waiting for success to fall at their pretty
feet’, only to add ‘unfortunately, heroines of this sort are not numer-
ous in oral tales and do not exist at all in any of the Grimm tales or
the Disney films’ (1975: 46). Stone ultimately corroborates Lieberman’s
claims – stating ‘it does not seem like an exaggeration’ to consider
fairy tales ‘training manuals in passive behaviour’ – and to ‘prove’ this
point she assesses 40 women (of ‘varying ages and backgrounds’) to
gauge which characters they most identify with. Her own perspective
is most apparent, however, noting that some respondents ‘performed a
fascinating feat of selective memory by transforming relatively passive
heroines into active ones’ (48). Decades later, Stone would concede that
tales were open to interpretation, admitting that her former distinc-
tion between female figures regarded as ‘persecuted, trapped, tamed, or
heroic’ was vastly oversimplified. What matters most, she concludes, is
a means of moving beyond the dichotomy between ‘negatively passive
and positively active heroines’ (2004: 125). Assessments made by her
respondents, and formerly disparaged as ‘misremembering’ heroines,
would subsequently be acknowledged as a key ideological tool, affirm-
ing that rewriting tales is a powerful means of reclaiming them.
7
This
is exactly what feminist writers and critics turned their attention to in
the latter part of the seventies as dissatisfaction with popular heroines
resulted in two main options: rewrite these roles to reflect more progres-
sive qualities, or find new heroines.
Despite this creative work, many critics confined themselves to restat-
ing the Lieberman case. Karen E. Rowe’s ‘Feminism and Fairy Tales’
(1979) complains that marriage functions as the sole approved means
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