Fairy Tale and Film

Green Card
(Peter Weir, 1990) provides a modern 
variation in which Brontë (Andie Macdowell) enters into a marriage of 
convenience with French pianist Georges (Gerard Depardieu). Her aim 
is to renovate a beautiful conservatory in an apartment only leased to 
married couples, while he seeks a right to stay in the United States. Like 
Beaumont’s Beast, Georges’ gruff exterior conceals an inner sensitivity 
and although the pair clash the film ends with them realising their 
true feelings and seeking to make their marriage real. 
What Happens in 
Vegas
(Tom Vaughan, 2008) follows a similar narrative trajectory. Two 
newly-weds wake up, following a drunken betrothal in Las Vegas – and 
a big pay-out on the slots – and promptly go to court to resolve their 
mistake (and decide who gets what). Refusing to annul the marriage, 
they are forced to cohabit by a judge, declaring that their winnings will 
be retained by the court and only determined after an agreed period liv-
ing as husband and wife. Relations become increasingly acrimonious as 
each sets about trying to force the other to leave the apartment, aware 

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Finding Love and Fulfilling Dreams 
35
this will entail forfeiting the winnings, yet they ultimately fall in love 
over this fraught time together and agree to work at the relationship by 
the time they arrive back in court. Importantly in this case, much like 
equally sardonic affairs such as 
War of the Roses 
(Danny De Vito, 1989) 
and 
Mr and Mrs Smith 
(Doug Liman, 2005), gender allows no one the 
upper hand, with both parties proving to be equally ruthless and mali-
cious in their conduct. Although neither woman marries for love, the 
wives in 
Green Card
and 
What Happens in Vegas
experience a profound 
change of heart about their spouse, like Beaumont’s Beauty, and realise 
he’s the one for them.
Fairy tale narratives concerning a reluctantly wooed woman can 
veer towards questionable ideological ground, with ‘humbled’ heroines 
typically forced to concede to male love interests after an appropriate 
degree of humiliation. Unlike ‘Beauty and the Beast’, which insists that 
its heroine must look beyond her companion’s unprepossessing exte-
rior, and endure any moody outbursts, a woman’s negative attributes 
(generally pride or aloofness) do not need to be accepted, it seems, but 
actively altered. A wilful woman is thus brought into line by a man who 
asserts an equivalent will of his own, often treating her with a level of 
contempt that brings about a (supposedly) necessary transformation. 
Related tale type ‘The Princess’s Laugh’ (ATU 559) similarly sets about 
taking the wind out of a haughty woman’s sails, and promising her to 
whoever can make her laugh is suggested as a form of comic matchmak-
ing, yet a nastier side is shown in the tale type ‘King Thrushbeard’ (ATU 
900), punishing a princess for being too picky about a spouse (which is 
regarded as thinking too much of herself) by removing any semblance 
of pride. Clearly not keen to marry anyone, the heroine finds fault with 
every potential suitor, including the titular king, who vows revenge for 
being spurned. Enlisting her father’s help in tricking her, she is told she 
must marry the first beggar who calls at the castle (really the king in 
disguise) and forced to live with him in poverty. Although she struggles 
to adjust to her new life she is progressively degraded. A pot-making 
business does surprisingly well yet is deliberately ruined by her husband, 
forcing her to work in the castle kitchens and steal scraps. The king 
finally humiliates her in front of the court by revealing the theft, while 
also unveiling his true identity. Far from expressing anger or hurt over 
this deception, she has been so soundly humbled by her experiences 
that gratitude and devotion are the result.
Of course, this kind of tale belongs to another time, yet while its tenets 
may seem objectionable in an apparent age of equality, it continues to 
enjoy a level of interest in cinematic remakes, with the accompanying 

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36 
Fairy Tale and Film
intimation that strong-willed women ultimately benefit from being 
tested and tamed. This is conventionally dubbed a ‘battle-of-the-sexes’ 
comedy, yet the point is that one sex wins – and no prizes for guessing 
which one. 
The Ugly Truth
(Robert Luketic, 2009) provides one of the 
most recent, and perhaps most objectionable, versions, with an unre-
constructed male chauvinist, Mike (Gerard Butler), making a name for 
himself on cable TV by spouting sexist rants at women. Hired by the 
same network as successful yet lonely singleton Abby (Katherine Heigl), 
the unlikely pair are forced together. Although she initially claims to 
loathe him, Abby nonetheless appoints Mike as her romantic advisor, 
confirming his conviction that women like herself are fundamentally 
desperate and clueless. The result is a skewered charade affirming that 
men know what women want better than they do themselves. Far 
from fighting her corner as a liberated and intelligent woman, Abby 
is an American Bridget Jones, losing any dignity to find herself a man, 
unhesitatingly following Mike’s advice, and finally succumbing to his 
very questionable charms. The fact that the film seeks to rework a Doris 
Day/Rock Hudson-style chemistry with a crude contemporary angle 
(complete with sex toys) makes it all the more reprehensible, the ugly 
truth proffered being that a successful career is no substitute for a rela-
tionship, albeit one with a man who is fundamentally out of touch with 
his feminine side. The fact that the film was written by three women is