Arabian Nights
tale ‘The Blind Baba-Abdalla’, in which a wealthy
merchant is literally blinded by greed, only gaining a sense of integrity –
and a proper perspective about what truly matters – once he has lost
everything. If this message seems inconsistent with the easy fortunes
made by other characters, it is offered as an important counterpoint,
and one that cinema has taken to heart. (The main protagonist in
A Simple Plan
relates his story with a similarly salutary message about
losing sight of what’s important; in
Shallow Grave
the point is repeated
by a corpse.)
To what extent is criminal conduct legitimated in fairy tales, and
when is it questioned? In general, survival, whether by fair means
or foul, is the chief imperative of such tales, and self-interest openly
Wealth through Stealth
77
endorsed. For a number of characters social advancement does not
hinge on the bestowal of wishes, the intervention of fairy godmothers
or securing a prosperous marriage, but is fostered instead by a willing-
ness to break the law, if necessary, to obtain desired riches. Sympathy is
rarely extended to those they exploit or harm (who tend to be viewed
simply as antagonists), placing us in the corner of characters who may
be flawed yet are also presented as fighters, and chiefly deemed worthy
of admiration, it seems, in refusing to be victims. For the most part,
the fairy tale hero commits acts of dishonesty, even violence, because
they are forced to. Some situations demand attention to the historical
circumstances faced by such figures. For example, the fact that former
soldiers often turn to crime in the fairy tale is perhaps a reflection (and
indictment) of the way such men were often casually discarded, with-
out recompense, once their services were no longer required.
7
Far from
simply being down on their luck, such figures are often characterised
as desperate. In Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘The Tinderbox’ a decom-
missioned soldier manages to outwit a witch and attains her riches in
a tale that recasts theft as rightful revenue. Similarly, the hero in ‘Jack
and the Beanstalk’ (ATU 328) may resort to theft and murder, but his
crimes are seemingly vindicated by the fact that his victim is a nasty
giant (a serial killer and cannibal to boot), and as Jack uses his pilfered
wealth to help his widowed mother his circumstances, like those in
‘Aladdin’, aim to elicit our sympathy. While there is a hint that Jack
oversteps the mark by continually returning to the scene of the crime
to take more – perhaps succumbing to the same greed that enabled the
giant’s hoard – this builds suspense and affirms his character as a risk-
taker. Curiously, the stolen harp protests, ratting Jack out during his
getaway (causing the slumbering giant to stir and follow in hot pursuit).
Even so, Jack proves his quick wittedness by cutting the magic beanstalk
down, thus causing the giant to fall to his death. He may not earn his
fortune through labour, but as Jack and his mother are shown to be in
a desperate situation, on the brink of starvation, they are presented as
the more deserving recipients of the giant’s treasure. The story might
thus be considered an interesting legitimation of redistributing wealth.
Although it has the charm of any rags-to-riches tale, vindicating Jack’s
seemingly foolish decision to exchange the family cow for a handful of
beans, rewarding his faith in magic by enabling him to provide for his
family for the rest of their days, there is arguably more at work in this
tale than a coming-of-age parable. Given its origins in feudal England
it is tempting to perceive the giant and his family (literally living off
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