Fairy Tale and Film

particularly as what constitutes a progressive interpretation is likely to 
remain in dispute. Bacchilega and Reider’s (2010) rejection of romantic 
concerns and happy endings is a familiar criticism, and Zipes makes 
similar comments in his introduction to Greenhill and Matrix’s collec-
tion, 
Fairy Tale Films
, drawing a distinction between ‘films that want to 
titillate and guarantee happiness and those that want to compel us to 
engage with open eyes all those haunting dilemmas that cause existen-
tial and social problems’ (2010: xii). In his view the fairy tale film should 
draw attention to life’s difficulties, rather than detract from them, and he 
specifically approves postmodern features such as ‘parodies ... aesthetic 
experimentation, and the mixing of genres’ as means of engendering 
‘new insight into art and life – mirroring the possibility of estranging 
ourselves from designated roles and the conventional patterns of classi-
cal tales’ (xii) – although a key problem remains in the extent to which 
such methods are used to amuse rather than necessarily enlighten us. 
In his analysis of fairy tale films, 
The
Enchanted Screen
(2011), Zipes 
contrasts ‘conventional’ fare against ‘experimental’ examples that are 
implicitly approved for their postmodern features, particularly parody, 
contending that ‘carnivalesque’ fairy tales are
capable of providing 
‘resistance against stale dominant forms of social and cultural relations’ 
(2011: 55). However, his distinction between what is ‘fun’ – described 
as ‘cotton candy, fluffy, sweet and without nutrients’ – and the 
‘ carnivalesque’ – deemed capable of provoking reflection and ‘a ques-
tioning of the hierarchical arrangements of society’ (56) – is obviously 
quite contentious, with no way to determine accurately how a film will 

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Postmodern Revisions 
157
necessarily be understood. As we have seen, de-Grimmed fairy tales have 
become the rule, rather than the exception, yet far from necessarily pro-
viding rewrites that expose and challenge inequalities, they seem more 
likely to reiterate tropes we might have rightly considered outmoded 
today, with ‘irony’ an evident pitfall of postmodern parody, granting the 
politically incorrect carte blanche.
Far from offering progressive alternatives, the danger is that ques-
tionable clichés simply become compounded by the kind of panto-
mime inaugurated by 
The Princess Bride
(a film Zipes applauds for 
undermining fairy tale tropes yet which could equally be claimed to 
reinforce them). Greenhill and Matrix cite the film in discussing a 
contemporary tendency to ‘sample and remix many fairy tale stories, 
themes and motifs into a new adventure that delivers a kick of déjà 
vu to spectators’, yet they also allude to inherent difficulties in such 
examples of ‘ 
postmodern doubling as they unsecure the narrative 
integrity of the classic tales while remaining faithful to the overarch-
ing generic conventions’ (2010: 14). Accordingly, Princess Buttercup 
(Robin Wright) spends the majority of her role blindfolded or speech-
less, passively waiting for her true love, Wesley (Cary Elwes), to save 
her, with suicide considered her sole means of revolt, while the film’s 
hero – even half-dead and virtually paralysed – swaggers confidently 
to a heroic end. 
Stardust
(Matthew Vaughn, 2007) self-consciously 
reworks the same formula, rendering its heroine, Yvaine (Clare Danes), 
utterly dependent on the hero and, despite billing itself as ‘the fairy 
tale that wouldn’t behave’, actually conforms to a number of ‘rules’: 
powerful women are vain and evil, good ones passive and pretty, and 
heroes take narrative prominence. Although it could be argued that 
such vehicles are not intended to be taken seriously, or that a ‘tradi-
tional’ quasi-medieval setting obliges them to comply with ‘period’ 
conventions, we might consider examples that retain a contemporary 
touch, even in an apparent storybook world, without resorting to 
stereotypes. Zipes may deride