Fairy Tale and Film

Fairy Tale and Film
additional changes in content and characterisation further deviating 
from expectation. While seemingly new, this approach to fairy tales has 
some interesting precursors. As Zipes points out, a ‘carnivalesque’ atti-
tude has long been apparent in film, citing examples that have sought to 
‘ridicule and play with the conventional forms and ideologies of the 
tales’ ranging from Disney’s early 
Laugh-O-Grams
of the 1920s, Tex 
Avery’s animations of the 1930s and 1940s, the ‘fractured fairy tale’ ani-
mations of the 1960s, through to live-action films such as 
The Princess 
Bride
(Rob Reiner, 1987) – all of which parody fairy tale tropes in various 
ways (Zipes, 2011: 53). Although once deemed innovative, this irrever-
ent approach has increased to the extent that it has virtually come to 
be expected. Few would expect to see a ‘straight’ version of a fairy tale 
today – and we might consequently ask whether ‘postmodern’ treat-
ments of the fairy tale in film genuinely undermine our understanding 
of classic versions (in the way Bacchilega suggests), influencing us to 
re-evaluate some of their problematic ideological underpinnings, or 
whether they produce variations with problems of their own. 
The roots of such experimentation have a surprisingly long legacy. 
Despite some alignment with methods of distanciation often deemed 
‘postmodern’ and thus considered to be fairly contemporary,
3
many 
associated traits long pre-date the term – just as the ‘Angela Carter gen-
eration’ has a considerable ancestry, with writers utilising parody and 
intertextuality centuries ago. The female writers of 
contes de feés
writing in 
seventeenth-century France adopted techniques such as framing devices, 
references to other stories, an elaborate writing style and innovative 
female characters to distinguish themselves from male peers and ques-
tion conventional mores.
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They might thus be seen to initiate a model 
subsequently redeployed by many twentieth- and twenty-first-century 
writers who have rewritten fairy tales, both in print and on screen. 
Notably, however, while progressive claims are often made of literary 
variations, cinematic treatments tend to be considered far more criti-
cally, seemingly accused of using the same methods for differing ends. 
As films have increasingly experimented with fairy tale conventions, 
often with some commercial success, it appears more difficult to make 
oppositional claims for postmodern techniques per se. Consequently, in 
an article co-written with John Reider focusing on recent fairy tale films, 
Bacchilega appears to moderate her former claims, acknowledging that 
motifs such as a conflation of genres and knowing self-referentiality 
do not necessarily question and challenge ‘gender norms’, but work to 
reinforce them. Particular exception is taken to ‘the parodic practice of 
undercutting fairy tale conventions’ only to ‘return to Disney’s familiar 

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Postmodern Revisions 
143
fairy tale expectations’ (2010: 28) – an inclination even non-Disney 
films apparently collude with, considering the 
Shrek
films no differ-
ent, in essence, to the Disney films they parody, particularly given the 
central love story.
5
Enchanted
(2007) is similarly accused of utilising 
postmodern features for regressive ends, ridiculing romantic escapism 
‘only to conclude by celebrating the same set of conventions’ (31). This 
is considered an ideologically suspect use of parody (often deemed a key 
weapon in postmodernism’s deconstructive arsenal), feigning cynicism 
simply to disarm sceptical audiences. In their view it makes no odds if 
the re-visioned princess chooses a kindly ogre over a conceited prince, 
or sets up her own business in New York when she opts to stay with a 
divorced dad, claiming that ‘the gestures of rebellion against patriar-
chal convention are only pretexts setting up its eventual triumphant 
celebration’ (33). Disregarding just how 
unconventional these narrative 
changes are, or the way they represent a ‘playfulness with regard to per-
formance and gender stability’ so commended by Bacchilega a few years 
earlier, it seems a romantic denouement is the chief problem, providing 
the ‘obligatory happy ending’ (32) that is implicitly aligned with escap-
ist enchantment.
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By contrast, Bacchilega and Reider approve 
Pan’s Labyrinth
because 
it eschews any such impulses and ‘allows no subordination and sepa-
ration of its sometimes nightmarish fairy-tale from the nightmare of 
history’ (34). We might question this claim, however, for while the film 
does not misrepresent historical fact (as we know, Spain’s civil war did 
not end with triumph for its people after the film’s events, but eventu-
ally gave way to decades of fascist rule) it does provide a happy ending 
via the most fantastical of conceits, the ‘sometimes nightmarish’ fairy 
tale eventually turning into a dream-come-true. Admittedly, the extent 
to which we validate Ofelia’s return to her fairy parents is moot, yet 
while these critics applaud the film for refusing escapism, this reading 
seems to be significantly problematised by its denouement. In addition, 
while 
Pan’s Labyrinth
may be considered an ‘anti-tale’ in some respects,