Guest Essay: Dana Shaffer on how Brave fails at feminism.

Friend and colleague Dana Shaffer wrote this terrific piece back when Brave first arrived in theaters.  Since I had already had my say on the film, I thought it best to wait until the film arrived on DVD/Blu Ray, which it does today.  Long-story short, this whole piece elaborates on ideas that I merely acknowledged in my review.  So do enjoy.

Does Brave give us the Disney princess we’ve all been waiting for? 

The film recycles a familiar tale, with a few misguided twists

By Dana Shaffer

Brave is the story of Merida, a bow-and-arrow wielding princess, with attitude, gobs of personality and more interest in pursuing her own ambitions than marriage. It sounds like a dream come true for many who have longed for a princess story with more of a plot arc than meeting a man and falling in love.

But let me give you a quick synopsis of the film (complete with spoilers, be warned):

It is the story of a vibrant and sassy redheaded teenage princess who doesn't quite fit in. She has an unusual hobby that her particularly strict parent does not approve of. During a nasty fight one day, the very strict parent destroys the daughter’s most beloved possession in a fit of rage. The parent instantly feels regret, but the damage is done. The rebellious redhead runs away. The girl seeks help from a witch, who gives her a spell that will change her destiny. But unless she fulfills a mission within a few days, the spell will turn very, very bad. After a series of inconsequential “fish out of water” scenes, the daughter must face the consequences of the spell, and her parent’s life is put in danger. The princess is rescued from peril, and in the end, the parent decides to let the daughter win the initial argument and have her way.

So that’s a bare bones plot synopsis of Brave. But perhaps it sounded familiar to you. Read it again, but this time think a little less moors of Scotland and a little more “Under the Sea.” Yep. Brave, whether it knows it or not, borrows heavily from the structure of The Little Mermaid. Of course there are some vast differences between the narratives. And perhaps in a world that recycles fairy tales and fables over and over, it’s not a big deal. But it lends some interesting ways to compare the two princesses.

Make war, not love. Why do we mock actors who romance while lionizing those who do violence?

It's worth noting the deluge of praise that has greeted Matthew McConaughy over the last 18 months as he's basically cast off the high-profile romantic comedies of the last decade in favor of theoretically more serious work.  When Matthew McConaughy appeared in mainstream romantic comedies, he was a sell-out movie star, not a real actor.  Regardless of whether he was actually effective in said films (Yes - How to Lose A Guy In Ten Days and Ghosts of Girlfriends Past; No - The Wedding Planner, Failure To Launch, and  Fool's Gold), the idea that McConaughy was headlining relatively popular and often profitable entertainments was considered a net loss because he was using his talents in a disreputable genre.  But now that he's appearing in legal thrillers (The Lincoln Lawyer), male-centric dramas (Magic Mike), and ultra-violent crime pictures (Killer Joe), *now* he's being proclaimed as a real actor worthy of discussion. In short, McConaughy made films that were embraced by mostly female audiences and was derided for it.  Yet when he moved into male-centric genres, he's suddenly a respectable actor turning over a new leaf.