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© Sue Short, 2015 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6–10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2015 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN 978–1–137–02016–1 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Short, Sue, 1968– and film : old tales with a new spin / Sue Short, Birkbeck College, University of London, UK. pages cm Includes filmography. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978–1–137–02016–1 1. Fairy tales in motion pictures. 2. Fairy tales—Film adaptations. I. Title. PN1995.9.F34S57 2015 791.43'6559—dc23 2014028335

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Contents

Preface viii

Introduction: Fairy Tale Films, Old Tales with a New Spin 1 1 Finding Love and Fulfilling Dreams: Aspiring Underdogs and Humbled Heroines 21 2 Curses, Wishes and Amazing Transformations: Male Maturation Tales 50 3 Wealth through Stealth: Evening the Odds, or Flirting with Disaster? 71 4 Dangerous Liaisons: Demon Lovers and Defiant Damsels 92 5 Houses of Horror: Domestic Dangers and Man-made Monsters 113 6 Postmodern Revisions: New Tales for Old? 140 Epilogue: The Importance of Enchantment 163

Notes 171 Bibliography 195 Filmography 204 Index 209

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Introduction: Fairy Tale Films, Old Tales with a New Spin

The downtrodden heroine who triumphs in the end; an enchantment that forces a male protagonist to change; the acquisition of fabulous riches – and their potential cost; marriage to a monster; and unhappy families rife with danger and abuse – these are all familiar narratives, with a history that extends back to some of the earliest stories people have exchanged. Cinema has continued this process, effectively telling the same tales (or, rather, variations on a similar theme) since the medium began, and the focus of this book is to examine this fascinating interrelationship, paying particular attention to contemporary narratives that take such tales as ‘’ and ‘Beauty and the Beast’, ‘Ali Baba’ and ‘Bluebeard’, and give them a new spin. Films and fairy tales go back a long way. As scholars such as Marina Warner (1993a) and Jack Zipes (2011) have pointed out, the film industry’s interest in adapting fairy tales is evident from the earliest days of cinema, when film-makers were drawn by the familiarity of the material, its propensity for staging visual spectacle and potential to attract widespread appeal. In many ways not much has altered in terms of these incentives; a film industry, struggling to hold the attention of a global market, has ploughed consider- able resources into reimagined fairy tales. A notable trend in adapting fantastical stories has been apparent since the mammoth commercial success of the Lord of the Rings trilogy (Peter Jackson, 2001, 2002, 2003) and Tim Burton’s 3D Alice in Wonderland (2010), prompting a spate of remakes, including two versions of the ‘’ story released in the same year, pantomime renditions of ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ and ‘’, and revised treatments planned of virtually every well-known wonder tale, from novels such as Peter Pan and Pinocchio, to classic fairy tales such as ‘Beauty and the Beast’ and ‘Cinderella’.1 If the Disney Corporation once seemed to have a monopoly on such rewrites

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2 Fairy Tale and Film this is no longer the case, with other major studios keen to invest in the current vogue for refashioned fairy tales. However, this is not their sole appearance on the big screen, with less conspicuous referencing an ongoing cinematic concern, from the industry’s origins to the present day. Film-makers have often borrowed motifs and plot features from fairy tales, albeit, as Maria Tatar puts it, better disguised (qtd in Gilsdorf, 2013). In some cases this ‘disguise’ may amount to situating ideas in a contemporary context, or adding a few narrative spins. Nonetheless, we can often recognise a ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Bluebeard’ plot, partly because these are some of the earliest stories we hear, but also because we have grown accustomed to seeing fairy tale motifs redeployed in popular culture. Not only are they regularly referenced in music, advertisements and literary rewrites, they have served as the inspiration for a clutch of contemporary TV series such as (NBC, 2011–), Once Upon a Time (ABC, 2011–), Sleepy Hollow (Fox, 2013–) and Beauty and the Beast (CW, 2012–) – many of which rely on our familiarity with conven- tional tropes, as well as occasionally testing underlying assumptions.2 Recent films have accordingly adopted a playful attitude to their source material, seeking to retell familiar stories in new ways. As a result we have a Snow White who does not simply rely on a passing prince to take her off to a better life – but ousts her rival and claims her right to the throne, a grown-up Hansel and Gretel who make it their mis- sion to kill witches, and a version of ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ where the villain’s plan to exploit giants for his own gain is simply copied by the film’s hero. Although it is tempting to assign progressive concerns to some retold fairy tales, many recent films appear to have a similar intent as some of the earliest film versions: visually inventive perhaps (3D replacing the tinting and special effects employed in ‘trick films’), narratively irreverent and often name-checking fairy tale characters in the title in the hope of attracting a wide (potentially worldwide) audience. Other examples are less conspicuous in their allusions – yet frequently all the more interesting in the readings they invite – sometimes aiming to prompt a reassessment of the plot. If a red hoodie worn at the end of Hard Candy (David Slade, 2005) seems too subtle a reference to ‘Red Riding Hood’, the film’s marketing image has Ellen Paige, similarly attired, standing as bait in a giant mantrap, alerting viewers to expect a different take on the traditional tale. Freeway (Matthew Bright, 1996) makes the same point in a title sequence of garish cartoons showing the fairy tale heroine (depicted in ‘seductive’ dress) under attack – and names its predatory male ‘Bob Wolverton’ for good measure. Both films seek to confront the idea (instigated by Charles Perrault’s version of

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Introduction 3 events three centuries ago) of a young female provocateur who is asking for trouble, inviting us to rethink assumptions about female sexuality and victimhood. Alternatively, a film may include a fairy tale reference not simply to question the assumed meaning of the tale, but to imbue the story with added significance. A Pinocchio doll that appears as a brief prop in The Fisher King (Terry Gilliam, 1991) is arguably more relevant to the narrative than the medieval tale cited in the title, par- alleling the hero’s required maturation, while the reading of Collodi’s story in AI: Artifi cial Intelligence (Steven Spielberg, 2001) adds a sense of poignancy for the film’s own artificial boy who, by contrast, will never grow up. Just as fairy tales are far from ‘purposeless entertainments’ (Warner, 1993a), films that have drawn upon them are similarly deemed significant, revealing a great deal about what we desire (whether it be in the sphere of relationships, family or material success) as well as atten- dant dangers and difficulties, yet how are we to define and discuss such films, especially given the varying tones and treatments of established narratives? For over a century, films have reworked or referenced fairy tales in some way, yet their analysis has been subject to certain shortcomings. Film critics have tended to analyse fairy tale films as part of a sub-genre of fantasy, limiting discussion to examples such as Disney’s adaptations of classic tales popularised by Charles Perrault and the , or epics inspired by the Arabian Nights such as the ‘Sinbad’ tales made famous by Ray Harryhausen’s extraordinary effects work. Other films that draw upon fairy tales, such as La Belle et la bête (Jean Cocteau, 1946) or The Red Shoes (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressberger, 1948) tend to be evaluated in different terms, usually as part of the directors’ oeuvre rather than via their narrative influences. Cinematic snobbery is doubt- less responsible for influencing the way films are defined and discussed, for if the term ‘fantasy’ still carries a certain stigma, fairy tales are beset with additional (often negative and frequently erroneous) assumptions, particularly the idea that they are aimed primarily at children and have no relation to reality. Curiously, although Vladimir Propp’s Morphology of the Folktale (1928) has successfully made the crossover from folklore to film studies – with his idea of archetypes and their associated action often used to explore narrative structure – this has proved to be one of the few intersections in a discipline that tends to negate fairy tales as unworthy of serious study, leading to an area of critical neglect which has required the intervention of folklorists to redress. One of the first scholarly works to assess cinema’s relationship to fairy tales was Cinema and the Realms of Enchantment (Petrie, 1993), a

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4 Fairy Tale and Film collection of essays, published by the BFI, including films ranging from early silent cinema, European cineastes such as Renoir and Vigo, the 1940s Cat People films produced by Val Lewton, to Tim Burton’s Edward Scissorhands (1990) and Batman Returns (1992). Although slim, the vol- ume marks an important attempt to consider the breadth of examples we might view as fairy tale-inspired films. This is partly attributable to the significant contribution made by historian and mythographer Marina Warner, whose approach to identifying fairy tale motifs is refreshingly inclusive. Although she admits to the potential hazard of being too keen to find connections, ‘stretching fairy tale as a genre to fit anything ... finding Cinderellas and Bluebeards here, there and every- where’ (1993a: 27), she also argues that our usual associations need to alter, pointing out that ‘the never-never land, bright as sweet wrappers and crowned with towers or castles, long ago and far away’ is by no means the only way to define ‘the territory of the fairy tale’ (1993a: 27). They do not have to have a medieval storybook setting, in other words, much less conform to cheery family entertainment – an admission that requires us to despatch with any prior assumptions and focus instead on discerning conspicuous plot features. This necessitates a widening of our critical faculties and an engage- ment with films on the basis of the stories they are telling, enabling us to identify points of reference with older tales in order to understand mutual concerns and desires – as well as equally significant points of departure and difference. In this sense, the fairy tale becomes ‘a tool for thought’, as Warner puts it, and also a way to rethink reality, rather than escape from it (1993a: 17). The inclusion of fantastic elements is not necessarily a given. Fairy tales may routinely involve supernatural features and extraordinary figures (such as the fairy godmother or genie able to conjure miracles, or an apparently dead princess brought back to life) yet this is not the case with many modern updates. Hence, Pretty Woman (Garry Marshall, 1990) is clearly a ‘Cinderella’ tale, although ‘the Fairy Godmother’s magic wand is replaced by a businessman’s credit card’ (Butler, 2009: 49), just as many variations of this perennially popular tale ditch the supernatural features, knowing that audiences will get the reference without seeing a pumpkin coach. By contrast, magi- cal transformations in films like Shallow Hal (Peter and Bobby Farrelly, 2001), 17 Again (Burr Steers, 2009) or Groundhog Day (Harold Ramis, 1993) may not immediately bring ‘Beauty and the Beast’ to mind, yet in featuring a flawed male character who is tested via an enchantment and redeemed by love they all rework a common fairy tale trope. These com- edies mine their humour from a central moment of whimsy (magically

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Introduction 5 altering a vain man’s perception, restoring another’s youth or forcing a curmudgeon to relive the same day) requiring flawed men to undergo a transition of some kind that will effectively make them lovable. In other cases the supernatural is removed altogether, often to avoid a sense of hokey-ness or contrivance, bringing events more recognisably into this world. Women perilously involved with dangerous men, for example, a staple of Gothic melodramas, thrillers and horrors, can be traced back to the serial-killing fiend in ‘Bluebeard’ (as well as demon lovers found in earlier folk tales) and while less visibly conspicuous in modern appearances (or necessarily diabolical) this serves to make new versions all the scarier. Although The Piano (Jane Campion, 1993) deliberately flags up its connection by including a shadow-show of Perrault’s tale, films such as Sleeping with the Enemy (Joseph Rubin, 1991) or Campion’s later In the Cut (2003) might equally be regarded as modern-day ‘Bluebeard films’, playing on the same motif in differing ways. In a similar vein, while some horrors make their fairy tale allu- sions manifest – the wicked stepmother in Hellraiser II (Tony Randel, 1988) explicitly voices her kinship with the villain in ‘Snow White’ and affirms ‘they’ve changed the rules of the fairy tale!’ – other films allow us to make connections for ourselves. This brings us to the thorny ques- tion of interpretation and intention: when is a film a ‘fairy tale film’, specifically, and does a film-maker need to be aware of any thematic associations for this to count? Although some films announce their origins via their title, or make their allusions clear in other ways, others may be more subtle in their influences, or perhaps update an idea without any direct intention to be regarded as a ‘fairy tale film’, yet may still be considered as such if shown to have recognisable attributes, as a growing number of critics have noted. In her publications From the Beast to the Blonde (1995) and No Go the Bogeyman (2000), Warner discusses contemporary cinema on a par with art and ancient myth in an effort to understand where some ideas have come from and how they have altered. Other scholars with an interest in folk and fairy tales have increasingly started to include cinematic examples in their discussions, noting that cinema offers another medium where specific stories are being retold, often in novel and notable ways. Maria Tatar’s Secrets beyond the Door (2006) makes a case for ‘Bluebeard films’ as a distinct genre emerging in the 1940s and which is still evident today, as well as publishing recent articles discuss- ing cinematic and televisual updates of ‘Snow White’, ‘’ and various female ‘tricksters’ on screen who subvert our expectations. Cristina Bacchilega references a few films alongside literary examples in

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6 Fairy Tale and Film

Postmodern Fairy Tales (1997) and has recently focused more exclusively on film, as have a number of other academics in the field, highlight- ing an area of significant expansion. This growth in critical attention coincides with the increasing deployment of fairy tale motifs in cinema, what Donald Haase refers to as the ‘continually emergent nature of the fairy tale’ (2004: xi), widening the scope of discussion considerably and enabling us to evaluate a number of films from a new perspective – although what counts as a ‘fairy tale film’ remains a tricky issue. Continuing the critical questioning begun in Cinema and the Realms of Enchantment, a more recent collection of essays, Fairy Tale Films: Visions of Ambiguity (Greenhill and Matrix, 2010), reveals equivalent diversity among its contributions and further highlights the complexity of categori - sation. Reasserting a need to extend our usual parameters in recognis- ing a fairy tale film, Jack Zipes, in the opening foreword, contends that while some of the examples discussed – including the cinematic adaptation of the Harry Potter novels, Tim Burton films and Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut – are not ‘strictly speaking’ fairy tale films, ‘the motifs, characters and plots of these films have clearly been bor- rowed from fairy tales, and they exemplify how complicated the defini- tion of a literary or film genre can be’ (Zipes, 2010: x). In his view, these recognisable references affirm a common point of affiliation, despite their ‘tantalisingly diverse forms’ (xii). The book’s editors, Pauline Greenhill and Sidney Eve Matrix, also acknowledge the wide range of films dis- cussed and the differing genres they would conventionally be assigned to, but claim that we can evaluate them as one specific genre – ‘the fairy tale film’. As they affirm, ‘a genre comprises a series of narrative con- ventions, including characterisation, plot and style, common to each iteration of a story’ and ‘their patterns fall into recognisable and specific forms’, yet, instead of the usual cinematic generic templates, they cite the ATU index of folk tale types to make a case for reclassifying films in similar fashion (2010: 2). Although this system has met with some criti- cism, as they note, it remains useful in categorising key elements of a tale and thus enabling researchers to compare different variations.3 The merits of adopting this method in helping to identify specific fairy tale markers in film are thus evident, utilising a familiar system to discern how a theme is articulated on screen, although some drawbacks need to be admitted. The system is not comprehensive enough to cover every theme (not including examples initiated by books, rather than tales, such as Peter Pan, or motifs derived from stories beyond the Western European tradition, although recent expansions seek to address this). It is also scant in terms of the level of detail provided – Warner has

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Introduction 7 likened it to ‘a list of ingredients and recipes with no evocation of their taste or the pleasure of the final dish, or a sense of how or why it was eaten’ (1995: xviii)4 – yet it remains a useful summative tool, despite these shortcomings – and I accordingly use ATU citations in this present work, as a means of identifying key themes linking films with tales of the past, providing additional references where relevant. Nonetheless, it is important to consider films within a cinematic context, as much as a thematic one. Tale types, by themselves, are an inadequate means of understanding the particular generic features involved in the way a narrative is delivered, potentially negating some important cinematic considerations. Labelling a vast array of films under the category ‘fairy tale film’ may draw attention to the specific way they are being evaluated (focusing on the story told and its relationship to similar versions) yet there are other dynamics involved in how a story is shaped on screen. A film’s meaning will be informed and affected by a number of factors: its cast and production staff (and the expectations we, as an audience, have of them), the culture and country in which it was produced, its intended market and its relationship to other films (this last point being particu- larly apposite given the degree of referencing that occurs in film today, especially films utilising fairy tale motifs). Citing an ATU number to alert us to its folkloric connections may be a useful starting point in suggest- ing a particular way to read a film, but this will not tell us everything about it. In Zipes’ foreword to Fairy Tale Films, written while completing his own epic investigation, The Enchanted Screen: The Unknown History of Fairy-Tale Films (2011), he notes the critical neglect the ‘fairy-tale film’ has had from film critics, regarding the lack of any entry under this heading in The Oxford History of World Cinema (1996) as omitting what he (in keeping with Greenhill and Matrix) clearly perceives as a genre unto itself (2010: ix). However, different criteria are evidently being used to assess films, and while I understand the intention behind construct- ing a singular generic category, this is quite a recent endeavour, made by folklorists rather than film scholars, and not necessarily the only way to understand them. Accordingly, a key aim here is to situate fairy tale motifs and their cinematic examples within the different genres that are conventionally used to make and market films, and the analysis is structured accord- ingly: separating films discussed into recognisable groups such as rom- coms, crime dramas, thrillers and horror. This approach endeavours to widen our expectations about where fairy tale references are likely to be found and also makes their breadth of influence on film clear. While relating films to certain tale types is agreed to be a helpful means of

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8 Fairy Tale and Film identifying fairy tale associations, there is an additional benefit to be had from assessing their wider generic features, as these crucially shape the way stories are told and understood. In this regard, although Greenhill and Matrix are right to defend fairy tales on screen as being ‘as much the genuine article as their telling in a bedtime story or an anthology’ (2010: 3), the medium in which they are delivered is none- theless of great significance. Films are an expensive business, and we need to be mindful of the bearing this has on what gets made, which stories are chosen and how they tend to be interpreted – just as their need to market themselves to an audience plays a crucial part in their formation and reception. Regarding them simply as a text – to be con- sidered in like fashion to literary forms – misses this crucial economic fact. It is because of their commercial draw, after all, that we are seeing a surge of interest in big-budget remakes, a phenomenon we might refer to as the Alice effect – hoping to match its billion-dollar box-office draw – and although the resulting films are arguably some of the least inter- esting endeavours discussed here, the motivations underlying them remain an important point. That is not to say that commercial imperatives are necessarily inimi- cal to creativity, although it is academically unfashionable to say so, and a further aim is to challenge the often quite negative conclusions drawn by some critics. One of the most prominent and prolific fairy tale scholars, Jack Zipes, has tended to be a little jaded in assessing cinema’s relationship to fairy tales. Despite acknowledging progressive potential, arguing that ‘we use the classical fairy tales in mutated forms through new technologies to discuss and debate urgent issues that concern our social lives’ (2006: xii–xiii), he is also wary of their ‘civilizing’ function, shoring up conformist attitudes and ideologies via what he terms as the culture industry. A similar ambivalence is apparent in The Enchanted Screen (2011), which discusses early cinema, animation, and cinematic examples from both East and West. While Zipes finds some interesting cases of innovation, for the most part these are considered exceptions to the rule, particularly where Hollywood cinema is concerned. The varying treatments of ‘Cinderella’ offer a case in point. Said to be one of the oldest tales in existence, and certainly one of the most appealing for film-makers – with over 130 different cinematic adaptations to date (2011: 174), the tale’s message (popularised by Perrault’s ‘Cendrillon’, the Grimms’ ‘Aschenputtel’ and Disney’s film version) is considered to be quite negative, essentially advising girls ‘to show off their beauty and docility to win the appropriate mate’ (173). Few versions are deemed to deviate from this imperative, although one that is particularly

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Introduction 9 commended is the Czech film, Vaclav Vorlicek’s Three Wishes for Cinderella (1973),5 in which the heroine, Popelka, is refreshingly asser- tive, adept at riding and hunting, and even manages to outshoot the prince while disguised as a forester. Zipes is not alone in commend- ing it, with David Butler similarly noting its active and empowered heroine who ‘does not swoon and sing at the first sign of the Prince but must be pursued and won’ (2009: 53). Although Zipes attributes the source of Vorlicek’s film to Czech folklorist Bezena Nemcova, and aligns its feminist features with the changing role of women in post- war Czechoslovakia, its heroine bears an interesting resemblance to a narrative (and geographic) kinswoman, the heroine of Russian folk tale ‘Vasilisa the Priest’s Daughter’, ‘who rode horseback, was a good shot, and did everything in a quite unmaidenly way’ (Carter 2012: 61). We might additionally consider another crossbow-wielding princess, Merida – the defiant young heroine in Brave (Mark Andrews, Brenda Chapman and Steve Purcell, 2012) – who uses her skill at archery to prove herself better than any of the three princes competing for her hand, thus sending an even more defiant note against expectation – and in a narrative that is much better known. It is in making this kind of connection, realising how much stories and their protagonists may have in common, and affirming how specific impulses in contemporary cinema often have much deeper roots that makes the examination of fairy tales and film so fascinating. It is also in acknowledging that a film owned by the much derided Disney Corporation can create a heroine of equivalent – if not greater – feminist interest (Merida does not marry in the end, after all) that we are given good grounds for dispensing with a number of preconceptions – including where a radically revised heroine may be found. Greenhill and Matrix attest to the disproportionate influence some fairy tales have had over others, asserting that ‘statistically, a familiar tale like “Cinderella” stands a much greater chance of being retold for the nth time than a less well-known example’ (2010: 16). The point is apposite, yet despite its familiarity this does not mean it will always be told in the same way, and I discuss a number of Cinderella-inspired rom-coms in which humour undercuts romanticism, arguably, as much as a crack archer is able to pierce the restrictive conventions of her day, while updated heroines pursuing college courses and careers suggest widening aspirations, in line with a more egalitarian age. Although Zipes (along with a number of other critics) is dismissive of ‘modern remakes with a faux feminist touch’ (2011: 174), accusing them of co-opting radical ideas for revisionary purpose, I invite readers to

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10 Fairy Tale and Film appraise what I have to say on the matter, watch these films for them- selves and make up their own minds. This brings us to another potential dilemma, for if discerning what constitutes a fairy tale film poses ample difficulties in itself, differentiat- ing between those deemed of merit or otherwise is equally contestable – and likely to yield considerable differences of opinion. Terming fairy tale films ‘visions of ambiguity’ – as alluded to in the subtitle to Greenhill and Matrix’s collection – highlights the differing approach adopted by films in referencing fairy tales, perceiving a distinction between what are considered to be conservative and more questioning examples. Zipes makes a fairly frank distinction in the book’s foreword between films that seek either to titillate or to teach us (2010: xii), later amended in his Enchanted Screen as a delineation between the ‘conventional’ and ‘experimental’ (2011). Greenhill and Matrix are more circumspect, affirming that conflicting opinion is inevitable, with every film open to question and reassessment, claiming ‘its metaphorical flexibility means that viewers can return at different times and receive different, sometimes even contradictory impressions of the film’s meanings and intentions’ – only to add ‘nevertheless, we suggest that within the genre of the fairy tale film – apart from Disney – experiments, departures and innovations predominate’ (2010: 17). This positive claim (their caveat aside) largely stems from a desire to disprove negative evaluations of fairy tale films as ‘at best, diversionary kid stuff, or at worst utterly facile predictable disposable low-culture trash’ (22), understandably seeking to legitimate their investment in a frequently maligned subject.6 Not only do fairy tale films have greater diversity than we might assume, they argue, but they have greater depth also, contending that we are seeing more fairy tale films made for an ‘adult’ audience (pointing to the fact that many films discussed in the collection are certified PG and above). In their view this entails sexual, violent and supernatural themes that mark a return to their folkloric roots, citing ‘contemporary, sometimes radical, and innovative’ film-makers such as Guillermo del Toro, Neil Jordan and Tim Burton as heralding a bold new form of fairy tale film (9). Ethan Gilsdorf similarly notes a resurgence of darker fairy tale motifs in film, yet perceives an accompanying degree of reassurance, partly ‘because we know these stories in our bones’, assuming nostalgia to be key to their appeal (Gilsdorf, 2013). While an older audience has evidently been targeted by the industry, many films are intended to appeal to an adolescent audience, rather than an ‘adult’ one, influenc- ing the age given to on-screen characters and the scenarios they are

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Introduction 11 placed in. Teens have become a key market for fairy tale films, receptive to wry revisions such as Ella Enchanted (Tommy O’Haver, 2004) and 10 Things I Hate About You (Gil Junger, 1999) as well as angsty treatments emulating the Twilight saga, including Catherine Hardwicke’s Red Riding Hood (2011). As for a return to ‘edgier’ folkloric features, there is often a tendency to provide a sweetener of some kind, to avoid giving us too bitter a pill, with commercial incentives still evident. Even auteurs such as Guillermo del Toro and Tim Burton, who have undoubtedly helped to improve the critical cache for fairy tale films, might be accused of trading on their established reputations to cash in on the trend for spec- tacular remakes, their names (already used quite cynically to ‘present’ films they did not direct) attached to a number of upcoming projects. Herein lies another layer of complexity for fairy tale films: not only the breadth of potential examples, but the differing markets they are aimed at. An online list of the ‘50 Greatest Fairy Tale Movies’ (published in 2012 by Total Film.com) reiterates this diversity, including some quite oblique examples we might not consider to have much to do with fairy tales. The list is highly subjective (A Tale of Two Sisters ranks at no. 49 while Hook, Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast all make it into the top 5), yet while the compiler’s comments betray a preference for fairly sappy productions, The Red Shoes – one of the oldest films on the list – makes it in at no. 1 on the grounds that it ‘contains everything a good fairy tale needs: a beautiful young heroine, a tragically fateful twist, and a sinis- ter edge a mile wide’; ultimately approving the fact it is ‘an unsettling affair, as classic tales tended to be’ (Wales, 2012). Given the predomi- nance of feel-good films on the list (admiring features such as costumes and catchy songs) the criteria suddenly seem to shift with this final admission, yet even this apparent inconsistency reveals why fairy tale films are so intriguing – because they can incorporate so many different features and have attracted such a range of responses. Although often unfairly regarded as children’s entertainment, ‘diver- sionary kid stuff’ as Greenhill and Matrix put it, films utilising fairy tale motifs attest to a range of interests and intentions, from examples aiming to be ‘family friendly’, those targeting a teenage market and some with a more mature audience in mind. As an illustration, we might consider the vastly different approaches taken to a single source. Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ is barely recognisable in both Disney’s animated version The Little Mermaid (Ron Clements and John Musker, 1989) and Splash (Ron Howard, 1984), both of which allow their heroine a happy end with her human ‘prince’, while Lars von Trier’s Breaking the Waves (1996) may be read either as a parody of

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12 Fairy Tale and Film

Andersen’s tragic tale – highlighting the extent to which the heroine’s naïve romanticism (and faith) cause her undue suffering – or as a misog- ynist vehicle that delights in her masochism.7 Although more faithful to the source in terms of its unhappy ending, von Trier’s distinctly more ‘adult’ approach affirms that intensifying sexual and violent elements does not necessarily result in a positive viewing experience (confront- ing critical assumptions that fidelity to a tale, including a willingness to retain an unhappy ending, should be deemed an attribute). In fact, Ponyo (Hayao Miyazaki, 2008) is, in some ways, a far more progressive adaptation in allowing its heroine to not only survive, but making her responsible for her own transition to human form, staked as a protest against her controlling father rather than romantic devotion. Ponyo keeps her voice, increases her mobility (becoming a creature of both land and sea) and ultimately maintains a connection to her roots – although her extreme youth also removes any sexual dynamic with the film’s hero, reducing a point of identification with older viewers.8 Another attempt at giving the tale a positive spin, M. Night Shyamalan’s Lady in the Water (2006), was critically lambasted, yet Greenhill and Matrix consider it ‘a postmodern engagement with Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid” that amplifies the ancient supernatu- ral power of the sea nymph so she is no longer a tragic romantic figure but instead humankind’s savior’ (2010: 14). The fact that said ‘nymph’ spends most of the film crouched naked in a shower, while Shyamalan places himself in the self-aggrandising role of the ‘Writer’ who will save us from ourselves, is evidently not considered problematic to this progressive reading, exemplifying that what we perceive in a film – and approve or otherwise – is always going to be fairly subjective, just as film-makers will be drawn to a fairy tale motif with what are liable to be hugely contrasting aims. We might consider, for example, the theme of childless parents whose wish comes true in the form of a magical child, and appraise two con- trasting cinematic interpretations of this idea. Fairy tales tend to treat this motif as a bittersweet tragedy, often making the parents’ happiness fleeting. Examples include a child made of snow who cannot outlive the winter, typically dying with the heat of the sun or close proximity to a fire. (The Inuit tale, ‘Blubber Boy’, collected by Angela Carter, offers an interesting adult take on the theme when a girl creates a lover from whale blubber who is similarly doomed to perish with heat – adding an explicit eroticism to the tragedy.)9 The magic child motif is reworked in Disney’s The Odd Life of Timothy Green (Peter Hodges, 2013) which pro- vides a sentimental idealised notion of child-rearing when an infertile

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Introduction 13 couple write a list of desired attributes for their child and bury it in the garden, only to see the results embodied in a strange boy who comes the next day, with leaves growing around his ankles. Although Timothy cannot remain with them, their time together affirms their nurturing skills and their dream is finally realised through fostering a real child. Czech director Jan Svankmeyer’s Little Otik (2000) revisits the theme of a child created from its parents’ wishes, yet gives it a far more sinister edge. In the source tale, ‘The Wooden Baby’, a child is born from a log of wood that is sung to life with a lullaby, only to wreak havoc for its parents through its insatiable hunger, feeding on neighbours until it is eventually destroyed. As Zipes notes, the parents in the tale never again wish for a child, and although he equates the theme (in the film ver- sion) with rampant consumerism in modern Czechoslovakia, we might equally understand it as a rare admission of the hardship and sacrifice that parenthood involves, using black comedy to suggest that child- lessness, contrary to conventional wisdom, may actually be a blessing (2011: 353). If Timothy is the best child imaginable, a literal dream come true, Otik is the worst, presented as a terrifying threat to the parents’ lives, yet although it is tempting to argue that these radically different treatments typify a commercial studio offering against that of an East European auteur, it is simplistic to claim greater worth for either film, particularly given their contrasting intentions, and neither should it be assumed that more interesting fairy tale allusions are only to be found in independent art-house fare. This assumption seems implicit in many critical discussions, in Zipes’ distinction between ‘conventional’ and ‘experimental’ films (2011), or Greenhill and Matrix’s claim that the fairy tale films discussed in their collection range from ‘entertaining and escapist’ endeavours to ‘deeply political’ fare (2010: 8). Although they note that fairy tale motifs can be found in ‘Hollywood, international, and independent productions’ (8), there is a tendency to privilege the latter categories while negatively conflating Hollywood with escapism (in direct contrast to the criteria used for the online top 50 mentioned earlier, which explicitly allots points for such features!). Are we all sim- ply looking for different things in the fairy tale film? And is academic derision, largely on the grounds of popularity, necessarily correct? A central aim in this work is to counter some questionable assumptions, asserting that we should not reject, out of hand, fairy tale-inspired films produced by a major studio, intended for mass appeal, or which are ‘feel- good’ in tone, but should appraise each film on its own merits, challeng- ing what is regarded as politically progressive or unorthodox. Fidelity to the source is beside the point – as Warner puts it, ‘shape-shifting is one of

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14 Fairy Tale and Film fairy-tale’s dominant and characteristic wonders’ (1995: xvi) – and claims about a radical folkloric past are too patently idealised to consider here, yet neither are irreverent or tongue-in-cheek versions necessarily deemed alternative – in the true sense of the word. Instead, the films selected for discussion have been chosen because they highlight the multiple generic features of fairy tale tropes and exemplify how certain themes remain recognisable in film, albeit frequently altered to reflect changing times. This includes rom-coms that give ‘Cinderella’ a modern makeover in which finding a prince is secondary among the heroine’s aspirations; comedies that use magical transformations to turn male protagonists into more appealing partners; crime dramas that revise some interesting moral lessons of earlier tales – combining the appeal of seeing under- dogs triumph with salutary warnings about the potential cost of avarice; thrillers that rewrite the Gothic template of ‘Bluebeard’ yet significantly make heroines responsible for saving themselves; and horrors that affirm profound dangers in the family home – while supernatural interventions additionally seek to restore a sense of hope. Familiar tropes are thus discerned among some very contemporary narratives in order to make clear how diverse the fairy tale’s influence on film has been – aiming to contribute another voice to the growing critical interest in this subject. Beyond demonising Disney, or applauding artier twists on the fairy tale for their supposed ability to ‘disenchant’ us, a more considered approach asks that we evaluate every example in terms of what it has taken from older sources, what is added, and what it has to tell us about who we are today and what we want from life. In seeking to explain the similarity between tales found around the world, folklorists have tended to promote two different explanations. Psychoanalytic accounts argue that tales are essentially symbolic, encapsulating inner drives and conflicts that are innate, unchanging and universal – which is why the same types of stories have been told through the ages. An alternative explanation is the historic-geographic approach, which contends that tales have travelled with us around the globe, migrating and mutating over time. The similarity between certain stories may offer a means of reassurance, suggesting that, despite our differences, we share mutual interests and aspirations, yet the appeal of forging connections (with both one another and our forebears) should not come at the expense of recognising interesting points of difference also, in terms of not only regional variations, but the impact of a chang- ing social milieu. Recent research on ‘Red Riding Hood’ – attempting to plot the tale’s global transition – received considerable attention in the press, affirming a continued fascination in these tales, their origins

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Introduction 15 and the journey they have made, while also leaving us with no defi- nite answers.10 Although a symbolic quality is undisputable, fairy tales are also cultural documents, informed by the period and politics of their age, and inflected by the particular interests of their tellers. Tales have always been subject to revision, in their transition from oral to print forms, as well as their various incarnations on screen. Writers and film-makers are as inspired as prior generations in retelling such tales – often keen to find new ways of updating and adapting them – while the pleasure of recognising themes, and seeing how they have been altered, is not simply confined to critics, but an evident appeal for viewers also. We might find some comfort in seeking to establish a continuity with the past, claiming an immutable alliance with our ancestors in being drawn to the same tropes (romantic aspirations, coming-of-age tales, stories of wonder, enchantment and dread, validating the triumph of unlikely heroes and the impact of incredible transformations) yet it is in terms of discernible changes that such stories come to life, and become newly relevant for our age. The aims of this book are as follows:

• To examine key themes and archetypes in cinema that rework folk and fairy tales of the past. • To evaluate different assessments of the ‘fairy tale film’, in line with recent scholarly work in this field. • To pay particular attention to unusual, wayward and unorthodox examples, especially where scope for derailing prior conventions is discerned, whether it be in terms of gender roles, narrative goals or attendant twists. • To challenge the idea that the fairy tale film is limited to a specific genre – or audience – and scrutinise the breadth of narratives in which fairy tale tropes can be found. • To ask what has led to the popular interest in revising fairy tale concerns in film. • To encourage the reader to familiarise themselves with relevant theories, and question why particular ideas remain so enduring.

A fraught area of critical debate is the question of how feminism has informed our understanding of fairy tales and whether they offer suit- able role models. Critiques of the ‘innocent persecuted heroine’, rely- ing on marriage to a prince, have led to claims that we should either extend the examples discussed beyond the usual trinity (‘Cinderella’, ‘Snow White’ and ‘Sleeping Beauty’) or rewrite these figures to give

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16 Fairy Tale and Film them greater contemporary relevance. The first chapter uses the rom- com to reassess this debate, perceiving the key influence of two tales on the genre: ‘Cinderella’ (a downtrodden girl gets a rags-to-riches makeover) and ‘’ (a haughty heroine gets what’s good for her). Examples such as A Cinderella Story (Mark Rosman, 2004), Never Been Kissed (Raja Gosnell, 1999) and My Big Fat Greek Wedding (Joel Zwick, 1992) are discussed as inspiring new versions of ‘Cinderella’ with ambitions that attest to feminism’s positive impact. However, a contrasting note of caution is offered in films such as Monster-in-Law (Robert Luketic, 2005), The Devil Wears Prada (David Frankel, 2006) and My Best Friend’s Wedding (P.J. Hogan, 1997) which rework questionable fairy tale tropes such as humbled heroines and female rivalry to discredit emancipated or assertive females. Humour is shown to be a double-edged sword in these comedies, skewering cli- chéd claims about romantic saps yet exposing some female characters to unnecessary ridicule. The role women have played in producing, writing and occasionally directing these films is noted to provide no guarantees in terms of ideology, affirming a hesitancy about feminist impulses in such films. The second chapter turns its attention to male figures in coming- of-age comedies who are themselves required to have a makeover. In examples like Beastly (Daniel Barnz, 2011) and Bruce Almighty (Tom Shadyac, 2003) men undergo a transformation through supernatural means designed to teach them a lesson, firmly repudiating vanity and self-interest. Reworking ‘Beauty and the Beast’ with an inverted ‘King Thrushbeard’, an engagement with feminism is again apparent, recon- ceiving masculine attributes in line with new gender roles and chang- ing family structures. Notably, if women are urged to get themselves a career in the preceding chapter, rather than placing their faith in love, these narratives ask male protagonists to put their personal lives first in order to become better partners and fathers – thereby achieving the happiness and satisfaction craved. These films are thus deemed progres- sive in terms of reconsidering gender identity as mutable rather than fixed, notably approving caring nurturing men, although conflicts arising from changing masculine ideals are also acknowledged. The chapter concludes with a contrasting examination of male figures who are unable to ‘mature’ in the same way, assessing Edward Scissorhands (Tim Burton, 1990), AI: Artifi cial Intelligence (Steven Spielberg, 2001), Lawn Dogs (John Duigan, 1997) and Sling Blade (Billy Bob Thornton, 1996) with reference made to Pinocchio and Peter Pan – concluding that masculinity is multiply inflected in these narratives, reminding us

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Introduction 17 that being male does not automatically confer privilege, and that male rivalry (although rarely discussed as much as female rivalry) can prove equally divisive and destructive. Chapter 3 moves the analysis from comedies to crime. Social advance- ment through wits, cunning and dishonesty (and sometimes a level of extraordinary good fortune) is often approved as the means to get ahead in tales such as ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ or ‘Ali Baba’, creating the wish- fulfilment fantasy of earning a fortune without having to labour, as well as outwitting powerful figures such as kings, ogres and career criminals. Yet many cautionary tales also warn against greed, advice that a number of crime dramas corroborate in ‘heist gone wrong’ plots and scenarios in which lucky finds prove to be the exact opposite. Cinema’s question- ing of materialism is examined via three such examples, Shallow Grave (Danny Boyle, 1994), A Simple Plan (Sam Raimi, 1999) and No Country for Old Men (Joel and Ethan Cohen, 2007), narratives that reprise the concern – voiced in a number of fairy tales – that greed brings out the worst in us, with no such thing as easy money. The chapter also includes some cases where crime does pay, providing examples of female schem- ers who evade punishment, as well as some interesting political thrillers in which riches are redistributed to those deemed most deserving. The capitalist imperative to get ahead, by any means necessary, is strongly criticised in many such films, yet a desire to see underdogs triumph is a vicarious pleasure for audiences, regardless of merit, as the conflict- ing impulses towards money as eminently desirable, yet also invariably tainted, make clear. A well-known tale that foregrounds the peril of putting profit first is Perrault’s chilling portrayal of a tyrannical husband, ‘Bluebeard’. The latest of his wives marries for money yet realises the terrible cost when he is exposed as a serial-killing fiend, and only narrowly escapes death. The fourth chapter takes this central tale, and variants like ‘The Robber Bridegroom’ and ‘Fitcher’s Bird’, and examines the continued currency of ‘damsel in distress’ narratives. The tale’s cinematic legacy includes Gothic melodramas and modern-day thrillers, and a range of films are cited as emblematic of the transition the imperilled heroine has under- gone – serving not only as victims, but as empowered investigators who often thwart their attacker single-handedly. The heroine of In the Cut provides room for thought, flirting with masochistic impulses yet ultimately fighting to save herself. Progressive potential is discerned in these resistant figures, while also noting an evident double standard in cinema’s attitude to violent women. The chapter includes a brief assess- ment of films that ask us to pity wife killers, such as Christopher Nolan’s

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18 Fairy Tale and Film

Memento (2000) and Inception (2010), and considers their relationship to Gothic romantic figures. Why female writers and directors have been so drawn to ‘Bluebeard’ is considered towards the end. Are such projects intended to warn women about the hazards of a potentially fatal attrac- tion, extolling female self-sufficiency as the only means of survival, much like the folk tales they emulate? And do they suggest, quite cyni- cally perhaps, that we have not progressed much, given the apparent inevitability of violent men, as well as the failures of a social system that women cannot rely on for protection? Chapter 5 takes us into the murky world of horror, and specifically the dangers located in the family home – a theme popularised in tales such as ‘Snow White’ and ‘Donkeyskin’. The opportunity is used to question psychoanalytic readings of abusive parents in fairy tales (typi- cally viewed as Oedipal dramas transferring the child’s animosity onto mothers and incestuous desire to fathers), evaluating the ‘knowing’ redeployment of such theories in films like A Tale of Two Sisters (Ji Woon Kim, 2003) and its US remake The Uninvited (The Guard Brothers, 2009). Examples are cited that seem to invert Freudian interpretations of fam- ily discord (often repeated in the fairy tale), including the tendency to reprieve abusive fathers from blame while falsely accusing mothers. Asian horror seems especially astute at such debunking and is admira- bly unafraid to approach conventional tropes from a new perspective. Dumplings (Fruit Chan, 2004) presents its ogre-ish women as man-made monsters who simply fulfil patriarchal demands, just as the monstrous children in films like Rungu and Ju-on are a reflection of their ‘damaged’ upbringing. The motif of child victims of abuse, reborn as supernatural avengers, is found in tales from many cultures, including ‘The Juniper Tree’, yet far from offering any sense of assurance, the appeasement of unhappy spirits is often tentative, with a number of examples discussed in which the supernaturally reconstructed family is shown to be far from ideal, suggesting continued conflicts and uncertainties that deny easy resolution. The final chapter looks at the array of postmodern devices used in adapting fairy tales for a modern, more cynical, audience, asking if tactics once used as a means of dismantling classic tales – including dramatic role reversals and extensive rewrites – have genuine grounds for being considered experimental or innovative, particularly given a tendency to be used in questionable ways. The fact that fairy tales have long been subject to revision is noted, with reference made to various literary examples, including experimentation by the seventeenth- century French writers of the Contes de Feés and subsequent innovations

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Introduction 19 by figures such as Angela Carter and Gregory Maguire. Films discussed include revised versions of ‘Snow White’, ‘’, ‘Hansel and Gretel’, ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ and ‘’, question- ing the extent to which parody and playfulness have superseded the ability to take anything seriously, and contrasting positive and negative evaluations to ask what constitutes a radical rewrite today. The genres have been chosen because of their thematic resonance with fairy tale tropes, demonstrating the persistence of identifiable motifs and their engagement with contemporary concerns. As is appar- ent from this overview, I have tried to avoid simply including films that I ‘approve of’ in some way, including examples that may contradict a point in order to make clear the underlying ambiguities of any group of films. Restrictions of space have required me to be fairly selective in terms of the number discussed and the degree of detail provided, yet all are assumed to be familiar films (or are otherwise easily available) with the accompanying aim of encouraging the reader to contribute their own awareness and understanding to the critical evaluation made. Although I have endeavoured to marshal a convincing argument I don’t expect my views to be unquestioningly accepted but hope instead to fuel further discussion and consideration of key ideas. I have also opted to assess popular well-known examples simply because I feel many such films merit attention yet appear to have been critically overlooked, seemingly on the basis of their popularity, with the attendant assump- tion that crowd-pleasers are inherently conformist vehicles, without any other aim than making money. Sadly, snobbery and elitism are as prevalent among folklorists as film critics, which is particularly surpris- ing given an oft-voiced interest in uncovering progressive potential in tales. This kind of criticism is regrettably quite common, appearing to lose sight of the fact that a major incentive in relating films to fairy tales is their applicability as barometers of widespread concerns. Marina Warner puts the point eloquently in reminding us that ‘cinema desires the audience’s pleasure and consciously observes its possible constitu- ency, its tastes and interests, as a storyteller in the bazaar responds to its audience’ – negating popular cinema thus precludes our ability to denote prevailing attitudes, as well as significant changes.11 The intersection of films and fairy tales is a subject that has long been a fairly exclusive preserve (limited to contributions to specialist jour- nals such as Marvels & Tales or academic collections which often fail to attract the level of attention they deserve) so this is written in the hope that further work will follow. The fact that folklorists are increasingly turning their attention to cinematic examples is encouraging, affirming

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20 Fairy Tale and Film the importance of the medium in reworking familiar tropes and revitalising critical interest in this area. There is, however, still some way to go to redress the ‘disciplinary myopia’ that has dogged produc- tive affiliations in fairy tale scholarship, as Donald Haase has argued, and additionally avoid simply reiterating a preconceived and somewhat fatalistic assessment. As Haase contends, ‘we need to reappraise the successes and failures of the last thirty odd years, question what has become too familiar, and become more curious about things not yet familiar enough’ (2004: xiv). In many ways this book is a response to these aims. Fairy tale films tend to be interpreted in very particular ways that demand reassessment. We need to look seriously at films that are often overlooked, and ask how feminist criticism and other discourses have impacted on the retelling of tales – both positively and negatively. Fairy tale films ultimately service differing needs, and what their audiences want from them will differ also. As Maria Tatar notes, ‘No fairy tale is sacred. Every printed version is just another variation on a theme – the rewriting of a cultural story in a certain time and place for a specific audience’ (2003: 229). The same might be said of the cinematic interpretations made of such tales, altering according to the time and place of their creation, informed by the intentions of their producers, and the interests of their presumed market. Reiterating the same ambivalence that Greenhill and Matrix, Zipes, Bacchilega and other scholars in the field have all attested to, Tatar argues that ‘mak- ing a new fiction means refashioning – in ways that may be concilia- tory or conspiratorial, but also in ways that may be contestatory or subversive’ (2003: 230). Quoting Carolyn G. Heilbrun’s stirring affir- mation that ‘one cannot make up stories: one can only retell in new ways the stories one has already heard ... out of old tales we must make new lives’, Tatar adds the equally inspiring point that ‘we create new tales not only by retelling familiar stories, but also by reinterpreting them’ (230). This is a process that is not simply the task of writers or film-makers, but something we all actively participate in – every time we read or hear a story, or watch a film, that prompts us to consider its potential meaning to our lives. I provide my impression here of some familiar narratives that have been reworked in cinema (some of which are clearly deemed to be more positive than others) but the conclu- sions drawn are ultimately up to you.

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Index

Aarne-Thompson-Uther (index of tale Battle Royale (Fukasuku Kinji, types) 6–7, 52, 171–2n 2000) 136 AI: Artifi cial Intelligence (Steven Beastly (Daniel Barnz, 2011) 16, Spielberg, 2001) 3, 16, 64 55–6, 179n ‘Aladdin’ (ATU 561) 74–5, 77, 82 Beasts of the Southern Wild (Benh Aladdin (Ron Clements and John Zeitlin, 2012) 167–8 Musker, 1992) 11, 28, 181n Beaumont, Jean-Marie Le Prince de 34 ‘Ali Baba’ (ATU 331) 1, 17, 79–80, see also ‘Beauty and the Beast’, 82, 84, 86, 89 conteuses see also Morgiana ‘The Beautiful and the Ugly Twin Alice in Wonderland (Tim Burton, Sisters’ (ATU 711) 51 2010) 1, 8, 158–9 ‘Beauty and the Beast’ (ATU ‘All-kinds-of-fur’ (ATU 510B) 174n 425C) 1, 4, 33, 34, 35, 54–5, 65, Allende, Isabelle 175n 176n, 178n, 194n Amelie (Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Beauty and the Beast (Gary Trousdale 2001) 169 and Kirk Wise, 1991) 11, 28, American McGee’s Alice 158, 193n 54–5, 56, 66, 178n ‘Animal Groom’ (ATU 425A) 52, Beauty and the Beast (TV series) 2, 174n, 176n, 178n 171n see also ‘Beauty and the Beast’, Bechdel test 159 ‘East of the Sun and West of the La Belle et la bête (Jean Cocteau, Moon’, ‘The Frog King’ 1946) 3 Arabian Nights collection viii, 3, 74, Benson, Steven 141 76, 94, 134, 182n, 183n Bettelheim, Bruno 33, 164, Armitt, Lucy 24, 78, 190n 187n, 192n Armstrong, Rebecca 193n Big (Penny Marshall, 1988) 60, 179n ‘Aschenputtal’ 8, 174n Big Daddy (Dennis Dugan, see also ‘Cinderella’ 1999) 179n Atwood, Margaret 141, 175n Big Fish (Tim Burton, 2003) 158 Audition (Odichon) (Takashi Miike, The Big Lebowski (Joel and Ethan 2000) 120–1, 188n Coen, 1998) 87 The Blair Witch Project (Daniel ‘Baba Yaga’ (ATU 313/334) 40, 67, Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez, 134, 176n, 180n 1999) 117, 150 ‘Babes in the Wood’ (ATU 327A) 150 ‘The Blind Baba-Abdalla’ (Arabian Bacchilega, Christina 5–6, 20, 140, Nights) 76 141, 142, 148, 156, 185n Blood and Chocolate (Katja von and John Reider 29, 142–3, 173n, Garnier, 2007) 149 175–6n, 191n Blood Diamond (Edward Zwick, Basile, Giambattista 43 2006) 89 see also ‘She-Bear’, ‘Sun, Moon The Bloody Chamber (collection) 147, and Talia’ 185n

209

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210 Index

‘The Bloody Chamber’ (story) 109 The Nightmare before Christmas, ‘Blubber Boy’ 12, 173n Sleepy Hollow ‘Bluebeard’ (ATU 312) 1, 2, 4, 5, 14, Butler, David 4, 9, 59, 189n 17, 92–5, 98, 99, 100, 102, 102–4, Butterfl y Kiss (Michael Winterbottom, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 1995) 107–8 176n, 183n, 184n, 185n, 186n, Byatt, A. S. 175n 190n Bluebeard/Le Barbe Bleu (Georges Campbell, Joseph 117, 188n Melies, 1901) 183n Campion, Jane 184–5n Bluebeard/Le Barbe Bleu (Catherine see also In the Cut, The Piano, Top of Breillart, 2009) 111–12 the Lake Bly, Robert 178n Capra, Frank 58 The Bone Collector (Philip Noyce, Carrie (Brian de Palma, 1976) 124, 138 1999) 106 Carter, Angela 12, 19, 24, 26, 113, Bottigheimer, Ruth 73, 75, 91, 181n, 114, 140, 141, 142, 147, 148, 170, 182n 172n, 174n, 185n Bound (Andy and Larry Wachowski, see also The Bloody Chamber, 1996) 84 ‘Blubber Boy’, ‘The Company of ‘The Boy Who Had Never Seen a Wolves’, ‘Keep your Secrets’ Woman’ (ATU 1678) 53 Carter, David 188n see also ‘The Youth Who Wanted to ‘Catskin’ (ATU 510B) 174n Know What Fear Is’ see also ‘All-kinds-of-fur’, Branagh, Kenneth 48 ‘Donkeyskin’, ‘The Maiden with- Brave (Mark Andrews, Brenda out Hands’, unnatural father Chapman and Steve Purcell, ‘Cendrillon’ 8, 176n 2012) 9, 28 see also ‘Cinderella’ Breaking the Waves (Lars von Trier, changeling motifs 121–3, 189n 1996) 11–12, 172n Cherry, Brigid 138, 175n, 188n Brecht, Bertolt 190n, 194n ‘A Child Returns from the Dead’ (ATU ‘The Bremen Town Musicians’ 769) (Grimm) 120 (Grimm) ‘The Children Who Played Butcher aka ‘The Musicians of Bremen’ 73, with One Another’ (Grimm) 136 181n Choi, Jinhee 130 The Bridge to Terabithia (Istvan Csupo, ‘Cinderella’ (ATU 510A) viii, 1, 2007) 194n 2, 4, 8, 9, 14, 15, 16, 21, 22, The Brothers Grimm (Terry Gilliam, 25, 29, 31, 32, 46, 47, 48, 50, 2005) 151 51, 52, 119, 127, 146, 174n Bruce Almighty (Tom Shadyac, 175n, 176n 2003) 16, 59, 63, 69 Cinderella (Disney’s 1950 film) 27 Brunnell, Charlene 190n A Cinderella Story (Mark Rosman, ‘Brünnhilde’ (ATU 519) 44, 177n 2004) 16, 30, 31, 37, 47, 61 Buck, Chris 160 The City of Lost Children (Jean-Pierre Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV Jeunet, 1995) 168–9 series) 192n ‘’ aka ‘Clever Gretchen’ Buried (Rodrigo Cortés, 2010) 183n (Grimm) 58, 91, 183n Burton, Tim 4, 6, 10, 11, 143, 158, ‘The Clever Peasant Girl’ (ATU 180n, 191n 875) 48 see also Alice in Wonderland, Big Fish, Clover, Carol 99, 186n, 187n Corpse Bride, Edward Scissorhands, see also Final Girl, the

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‘The Company of Wolves’ ‘The Devil’s Three Golden Hairs’ (story) 147–8, 192n (Grimm) 181n The Company of Wolves (Neil Jordan, Diab, Hanna 182n 1984) 147–8, 191n, 192n Dirty Weekend (Michael Winner, conteuses 18–19, 54, 142, 174n, 1993) 107 176n, 178n, 191n Disney 1, 3, 9, 10, 12, 14, 23, 27–8, The Cooler (Wayne Kramer, 2003) 81 45, 48, 158–60, 175n, 194n see also Jean-Marie Le Prince de Django Unchained (Quentin Tarantino, Beaumont, Marie Catherine 2012) 44 D’Aulnoy, Marie-Jeanne L’Heritier, Dolores Claiborne (Taylor Hackford, Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de 1995) 110, 132–3 Villeneuve Domino (Tony Scott, 2005) 182n Copycat (Jon Amiel, 1995) 107 ‘Donkeyskin’ (ATU 510B) 18, 94, Coraline (Henry Selick, 2009) 125, 189n 119, 132–3, 187n Corliss, Richard 68 see also Peau d’ane (Jacques Demy, Corpse Bride (Tim Burton, 2005) 158 1970), unnatural father Craven, Wes 136–7 Dumplings (Fruit Chan, 2004) 18, see also Freddy Kreuger, A Nightmare 133–5 on Elm Street short film version, Three … Extremes Creed, Barbara 188n (2004) 133 ‘Cupid and Psyche’ (ATU Dundes, Alan 115, 187n 425A) 176n, 178n Cursed (Wes Craven, 2005) 192n ‘East of the Sun and West of the Moon’ (ATU 425A) 174n, 178n D’Aulnoy, Marie Catherine 191n see also ‘Beauty and the Beast’, see also conteuses, ‘The White Cat’ ‘Cupid and Psyche’ The Daisy Chain (Aisling Walsh, Eden Lake (James Watkins, 2007) 122–3, 138, 189n 2008) 135, 190n The Dark (John Fawcett, 2005) Edward Scissorhands (Tim Burton, 123–4, 138 1990) 16, 65–6, 158, 180n ‘Dark Water’ (original story, ‘Floating Electra complex 114, 131, Water’) 125 187n Dark Water (Hideo Nakata, Ella Enchanted (Tommy O’Haver, 2002) 125–5, 138 2004) 11, 157, 193n Dark Water (Walter Salles, The Emerald City of Oz (L. Frank 2005) 126–7, 138 Baum, 1910) 193n ‘The Death of the Little Hen’ Enchanted (Kevin Lima, 2007) 28–9, (Grimm) 189n 61, 143, 191n Death of a Salesman (Arthur Miller, Evan Almighty (Tom Shadyac, 1949) 84 2007) 60, 63 Del Toro, Guillermo 10, 11, 128–9, Ever After: A Cinderella Story (Andy 143, 191n Tennant, 1998) 29, 144, 145, see also Mama, The Orphanage, Pan’s 157, 191n Labyrinth The Exorcist (William Friedkin, The Descent (Neil Marshall, 2005) 135 1973) 138 The Devil Wears Prada (David Frankel, 2006) 16, 39–40 F (Johannes Roberts, 2010) 135 The Devil’s Rejects (Rob Zombie, Fargo (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2005) 188n 1996) 82, 87, 107

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212 Index

Fatal Attraction (Adrian Lyne, ‘Goldilocks’ (ATU 171) 117 1987) 186n Gotz, Maya 175n fi lm blanc 59 Green Card (Peter Weir, 1990) 34, 35 Final Girl, the 99, 106, 184n, 188n Greenhill, Pauline and Sydney Eve The Fisher King (Terry Gilliam, Matrix 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 1991) 3, 62–3, 68, 69 20, 27, 157 ‘The Fisherman and his Wife’ (ATU The Grifters (Stephen Frears, 555) 72, 87, 182n 1990) 82, 85 ‘Fitcher’s Bird’ (aka ‘Fowler’s Fowl’) Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm 3, 25, 17, 94, 99, 107, 109, 110 45, 174–5n, 181n ‘Floating Water’ (Koji Suzuki) 125 Grimm (TV series) 2, 171n, 192n The 40 Year Old Virgin (Judd Apatow, (aka The Children 2005) 62 and Household Tales) 23, 182n, ‘Frau Trude’ (Grimm) 150, 174n 183n Freaky Friday (Gary Nelson, see also ‘All-kinds-of-fur’, 1976) 179n ‘Aschenputtal’, ‘The Bremen Freeway (Matthew Bright, 1996) 111, Town Musicians’, ‘The 148, 149 Children Who Played Butcher Freud, Sigmund 18 with One Another’, ‘Clever see also Electra complex, uncanny, Gretel’, ‘The Death of the Little the Hen’, ‘The Devil’s Three Golden ‘The Frog King’ (ATU 440) 33, 178n Hairs’, ‘The Fisherman and his Frozen (Jennifer Lee and Chris Buck, Wife’, ‘Frau Trude’, ‘The Frog 2013) 28, 159–60, 193–4n King’, ‘’, ‘’, ‘Goldilocks’, Gaiman, Neil 125, 175n, 189n ‘’, ‘Hansel and Gaslight (George Cukor, 1944) 96 Gretel’, ‘The Hare Bride’, ‘Hop o’ The Gift (Sam Raimi, 2000) 105–6, 107 my Thumb’, ‘How Six Made Their Gilbert, John 176n Way in the World’, ‘The Juniper Gilbert, Sandra M. and Susan Tree’, ‘The King of the Golden Gubar 145, 184n Mountain’, ‘The Knapsack the Gilsdorf, Ethan 2, 10, 156 Hat and the Horn’, ‘Little Ginger Snaps (John Fawcett, Louse and Little Flea’, ‘The 2000) 148–9 Little Peasant’, ‘’, Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed (Brett ‘The Maiden without Hands’, Sullivan, 2003) 149 ‘’, ‘’, Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning ‘Rapunzel’, ‘Red Riding Hood’, (Grant Harvey, 2004) 149 ‘The Robber Bridegroom’, ‘The Girl and the Wolf’ (James ‘’, ‘The Six Thurber, 1936) 111, 186n Swans’, ‘Sleeping Beauty’, ‘Snow Glengarry Glen Ross (James Foley, White’, ‘’, 1992) 84 ‘’, ‘The Three The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, Feathers’, ‘’, 1972) 83 ‘The Water of Life’, ‘The Wolf and Godwin, William 78, 181–2n the Kids’ ‘The Golden Bird’ (Grimm) 74, Groundhog Day (Harold Ramis, 178n 1993) 4, 57–8, 63, 69 ‘The Golden Goose’ (Grimm) 178n, Gulliver’s Travels (Rob Letterman, 181n 2010) 179n

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Index 213

Haase, Donald 6, 20, 47, 160, In Bruges (Martin McDonagh, 173n 2008) 81–2 Halloween (John Carpenter, In the Cut (Jane Campion, 2003) 5, 1978) 117, 118 17, 101–2, 103, 107, 185n Hanna (Joe Wright, 2011) 168 In the Valley of Elah (Paul Haggis, Hannon, Patricia 191n 2007) 111 ‘Hans my Hedgehog’ (Grimm) 173n Inception (Christopher Nolan, ‘Hansel and Gretel’ (ATU 327A) 2, 2010) 18, 109 19, 80–1, 117, 119, 133, 154 Innocence (Lucile Hadzihalilovic, Hansel and Gretel (Pil-Sung Yim, 2004) 194n 2007) 137–8 The Innocents (Jack Clayton, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters 1961) 189n (Tommy Wirkola, 2012) 2, 154 Insomnia (Christopher Nolan, Hard Candy (David Slade, 2005) 2, 2002) 107 111, 148, 149 The Invention of Lying (Ricky Gervais ‘The Hare Bride’ (Grimm) 183n and Matthew Robinson, Heilbrun, Carolyn G. 20, 51, 174n, 2009) 53 178n Hellbound: Hellraiser II (Tony Randel, ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ (ATU 328) 1, 1988) 5, 184n 2, 17, 19, 77–9, 90, 181–2n Hellraiser (Clive Barker, 1987) 118, Jack the Giant Slayer (Bryan Singer, 184n, 188n 2013) 79, 154–5, 163 ‘The Hen is Tripping in the Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, Mountain’ 95 1997) 182n L’Heritier, Marie-Jeanne see conteuses, Jackson, Rosemary 141, 190n ‘The Subtle Princess’ Jagged Edge (Richard Marquand, The Hills Have Eyes (Wes Craven, 1985) 107 1977) 117 Jancovich, Mark 136 Hook (Steven Spielberg, 1985) 111 Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë, 1847) 184n ‘Hop o’ My Thumb’ (ATU 327B) Jane Eyre (Robert Stevenson, 1943) 96 80, 81 ‘Janghwa, Hongryeon’ (Rose Flower, ‘The Horned Snake’s Wife’ 187n Red Lotus) 189n House of 1000 Corpses (Rob Zombie, see also A Tale of Two Sisters 2003) 188n ‘The Jealous Sisters’ (Arabian ‘How Six Made Their Way in the Nights) 181n World’ (Grimm) 73, 181n Johns, Andreas 180n ‘How the Devil Married Three Sisters’ see also ‘Baba Yaga’ (ATU 311) 95 Jordan, Neil 10, 192n Hubner, Laura 118, 129 see also The Company of Wolves humbled heroine 33, 35, 39, 42 Jorgensen, Jeanna 187n see also ‘King Thrushbeard’, ‘The ‘The Juniper Tree’ (ATU 720) 18, Princess’s Laugh’, ‘The Taming of 119–20, 124, 127, 138 the Shrew’ Ju-on (Shimizu Takashi, 2000) 18, Hyland, Robert 188n 120, 121, 188n

I Have Heard the Mermaids Singing Kaiser, Erich (‘de-Grimmed’ (Patricia Rozema, 1987) 172n tales) 190n I Spit on your Grave (Meir Zarchi, ‘Kate Crackernuts’ (ATU 1978) 187n 306/711) 23, 174n

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214 Index

‘Keep your Secrets’ 187n Lord of the Flies (William Golding, Kes (Ken Loach, 1969) 194n 1954) 135 Kill Bill vols I and II (Quentin Lord of the Rings trilogy (Peter Jackson, Tarantino, 2003–4) 44, 111 2001, 2002, 2003) 1, 62 ‘The Kind and Unkind Girls’ (ATU Lost (TV series) 171n 480) 51 Lurie, Alison 21, 22, 26, 29, 173n, ‘The King of the Golden Mountain’ 174n, 187n (Grimm) 83 Luthi, Max 50–1 Kinoshita, Chika 116, 187n ‘The Knapsack, the Hat, and the Mackenzie, Suzie 117 Horn’ (Grimm) 73–4 Maguire, Gregory 19, 141, 152, Knee, Adam 130–1 175n Knocked Up (Judd Apatow, Maid in Manhattan (Wayne Wang, 2007) 179n 2002) 29 Kolbenschlag, Madonna 177n ‘Maid Maleen’ (Grimm) 183n Kramer vs. Kramer (Robert Benton, ‘The Maiden without Hands’ (ATU 1979) 56 706) 132, 133, 177n, 187n Kreuger, Freddy 136–7 Malefi cent (Robert Stromberg, 2014) 140, 158, 160 Lady in the Water (M. Night Mallin, Eric S. 150 Shyamalan, 2006) 12 Mama (Andrés Muschietti, ‘Lady Isabel and the Elf-knight’ 183n 2013) 127, 143 Lady Snowblood (Toshiya Fujita, ‘The Man on a Quest for his Lost 1973) 177n Wife’ (ATU 400) 53 Lang, Andrew 74, 173n, 174n Memento (Christopher Nolan, The Last Seduction (John Dahl, 2000) 18, 109 1994) 84 Mermaid (aka Rusalka, Anna Melikyan, Lau, Kimberley J. 192n 2007) 166, 172n Lawn Dogs (John Duigan, 1997) 16, Millet, Lydia 103–4 66–7 Mirror Mirror (Tarsem Singh, ‘The Lazy Spinner’ (ATU 1405) 183n 2012) 46, 145–7 Le Havre (Aki Kaurismäki, 2011) 169 Miss Congeniality (Donald Petrie, Lee, Jennifer 159 2000) 31–2 Lee, Tanith see ‘Wolfland’ Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Liar Liar (Tom Shadyac, 1997) 56, Fabulous (John Pasquin, 59, 60 2005) 32, 176n Lieberman, Marcia 21, 22, 23, 26, ‘Mr Fox’ 95 54, 111, 173–4n Mr and Mrs Smith (Doug Liman, ‘Little Louse and Little Flea’ 2005) 35 (Grimm) 189n ‘Molly Whuppie’ (ATU 327B) 23 ‘The Little Mermaid’ (Hans Christian Monster (Patty Jenkins, 2003) 108 Andersen) 11–12, 140 Monster-in-Law (Robert Luketic, mermaid motif in films 172n 2005) 16, 40–1 The Little Mermaid (Ron Clements and ‘Moon Brow’ 175n John Musker, 1989) 11 Morgiana 80, 84, 182n Little Otik (Jan Svankmajer, 2000) 13 see also ‘Ali Baba’ ‘The Little Peasant’ (Grimm) 74 Mottram, James 89 Looking for Mr Goodbar (Richard Mulan (Tony Bancroft and Barry Brooks, 1977) 101 Cook, 1998) 28, 194n

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My Best Friend’s Wedding (P.J. Hogan, Peter Pan 1, 6, 16, 56, 64–5, 68, 140, 1997) 16, 41–3 180n, 194n My Big Fat Greek Wedding (Joel Zwick, Peter Pan (P.J. Hogan, 2003) 180n 1992) 16, 31 The Piano (Jane Campion, 1993) 5, 100–1, 172n, 184–5n Never Been Kissed (Raja Gosnell, Picnic at Hanging Rock (Peter Weir, 1999) 16, 31 1975) 194n The Nightmare before Christmas (Henry ‘The Pink’ (Grimm) 173n Selick, 1993) 158 Pinocchio 1, 3, 16, 56, 62, 63–4, 78, A Nightmare on Elm Street (Wes 179–80n Craven, 1984) 117, 118, 136–7 Ponyo (Hayao Miyazaki, 2008) 12, No Country for Old Men (Joel and 172–3n Ethan Cohen, 2007) 17, 82, ‘The Porter and the Ladies’ (Arabian 87–8, 90, 182n Nights) 181n Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, Precious (Lee Daniels, 2009) 132, 1946) 96, 98 133, 190n ‘The Premature Burial’ (Poe) 183n The Odd Life of Timothy Green (Peter Preston, Cathy Lynn 144 Hodges, 2013) 12–13 Pretty Woman (Garry Marshall, Of Mice and Men (John Steinbeck, 1990) 4, 29 1937) 68 The Princess and the Frog (Ron Clements Once Upon a Time (TV series) 2, and John Musker, 2009) 28 171n, 192n The Princess Bride (Rob Reiner, Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV 1987) 142, 157 series) 159 The Princess Diaries (Garry Marshall, Orenstein, Catherine 147, 148 2001) 193n Orphan (Jaume Collet-Serra, Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement 2009) 121–2, 131, 189n (Garry Marshall, 2004) 193n The Orphanage (Juan Antonio Bayona, ‘The Princess’s Laugh’ (ATU 559) 35 2007) 127, 138, 143 Princess Mononoke (Hayao Miyazaki, The Others (Alejandro Amenabar, 1997) 172n 2001) 124, 189n The Proposal (Anne Fletcher, Overboard (Garry Marshall, 2009) 37–9, 47 1987) 36 Propp, Vladimir 3, 171 Oz, the Great and Powerful (Sam Raimi, Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960) 99, 117 2013) 152–3, 163, 193n Public Enemy (William D. Wellman, 1931) 82 Pan’s Labyrinth (Guillermo del Toro, Purkiss, Diane 122, 180n, 189n 2006) 128–9, 143, 166, ‘’ (ATU 545B) 80 191n, 194n Peau d’ane (Jacques Demy, ‘The Queen Bee’ (Grimm) 178n 1970) 131–2, 189n ‘The Queen’s Looking Glass’ (Gilbert Penelope (Mark Palansky, 2006) 78–9 and Gubar) 145 ‘Perceforest’ 176–7n see also ‘Sleeping Beauty’, ‘Sun, Rapunzel (ATU 310) 19, 146, 151–2 Moon and Talia’ see also Frozen Perrault, Charles 2, 3, 5, 8, 17, 25, Ray, Brian 65, 66 93–4, 98, 103, 147, 176n Rear Window (Alfred Hitchcock, see also ‘Bluebeard’ 1954) 99

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216 Index

Rebecca (Daphne du Maurier, Shallow Hal (Peter and Bobby Farrelly, 1938) 184n 2001) 4, 58–9 Rebecca (Alfred Hitchcock, 1940) 96 Sharrett, Christopher 188n ‘Red Riding Hood’ (ATU 333) viii, 2, ‘She-Bear’ (Basile) 148 14, 19, 147, 173n, 192n The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, Red Riding Hood (Catherine 1980) 136, 190n Hardwicke, 2011) 11, 149–50 Shoeshine (Sciuscià) (Vittorio de Sica, The Red Shoes (Michael Powell 1946) 194n and Emeric Pressburger, 1948) 3, Shrek (Andrew Adamson and Vicky 11 Jenson, 2001) 29, 191n Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino, Shrek Forever After (Mike Mitchell, 1992) 81 2010) 176n Return to Oz (Walter Murch, Shrek the Third (Chris Miller and 1985) 158, 194n Raman Hui, 2007) 175n ‘Ricky with the Tuft’ 53 Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Ringu (Hideo Nakata, 1998) 18, 120, Demme, 1991) 106, 186n 121, 123, 130, 188n A Simple Plan (Sam Raimi, 1999) 17, ‘The Robber Bridegroom’ (ATU 76, 82, 85–7, 88, 89, 90, 182n 955) 17, 84, 94, 99, 105, 107, ‘The Singing Bone’ (Grimm) 181n 109, 110 ‘’ (Grimm) 178n Role Models (David Wain, 2008) 179n Skeleton Key (Iain Softley, 2005) 184n Rowe, Karen E. 23–4, 174n ‘Sleeping Beauty’ (ATU 410) 15, 21, 15, 43–5, 140, 160, 174n, Salander, Lisbeth 108 176–7n Sanders, Rupert 144, 192n Sleeping Beauty (Disney 1959 film) 27 see also Snow White and the Sleeping Beauty (Julie Leigh, 2011) 45 Huntsman Sleeping with the Enemy (Joseph Rubin, Scarface (Howard Hawks, 1932) 82 1991) 5, 110 Scarface (Bryan De Palma, 1983) 83 Sleepy Hollow (Tim Burton, Scheherazade viii, 108, 153, 182n, 1999) 158 183–4n Sleepy Hollow (TV series) 2, 171n Scream films (Wes Craven, 1996, 1997, Sling Blade (Billy Bob Thornton, 2000, 2011) 99, 118 1996) 16, 68 ‘The Search for the Lost Husband’ Snowden, Kim 47, 148 (ATU 425) 53 ‘The Snow Maiden’ 189n Secret beyond the Door (Fritz Lang, ‘Snow White’ (ATU 709) viii, 1, 5, 1948) 96–9, 104, 109 15, 18, 19, 21, 25, 45–6, 119, 133, The Secret of Roan Inish (John Sayles, 144, 174n 1994) 167, 172n Snow White: A Tale of Terror (Michael Seifert, Lewis C. 176n, 191n Cohn, 1996) 130 The Selfi sh Giant (Clio Barnard, Snow White: The Fairest of Them All 2013) 168, 194n (Caroline Thompson, 2001) 146 17 Again (Burr Steers, 2009) 4, 60–2, Snow White and the Huntsman (Rupert 63, 69, 179n Sanders, 2012) 46, 144, 192n Sexton, Anne 146 Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Sexy Beast (Jonathan Glazer, (Disney film version, 1937) 27 2000) 81, 84 ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ Shallow Grave (Danny Boyle, (Sexton poem) 146 1994) 17, 76, 82, 85, 89 Sobchack, Vivian 136

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Some Call it Loving (James B. Harris, ‘’ (Grimm) 178n 1973) 177n Three Kings (David O. Russell, Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 1999) 89, 182n 2000) 173n, 180n ‘The Three Spinners’ (ATU Splash (Ron Howard, 1984) 11 501) 183n Stardust (Matthew Vaughn, Three Wishes for Cinderella (Vaclav 2007) 157 Vorlicek, 1973) 9, 172n ‘The Starving Children’ Through the Looking Glass (Lewis (Grimm) 134 Carroll, 1871) 158 Stone, Kay 23, 174n ‘The Tinderbox’ (Hans Christian ‘The Story of Grandmother’ 147 Andersen) 77 see also ‘Red Riding Hood’ Tolkien, J.R.R. 168, 169 ‘The Subtle Princess’ see also Lord of the Rings trilogy (L’Heritier) 183n Top of the Lake (series) 185n, 186n ‘Sun, Moon and Talia’ (Basile) 43, ‘Treasure Finders Murder One 44, 176n Another’ (ATU 763) 89 Supernatural (TV series) 192n The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (John ‘Supertoys Last All Summer Long’ Huston, 1948) 89 (Brian Aldiss) 64 Treeless Mountain (So-Yong Kim, Swept Away (Guy Ritchie, 2002) 36–7 2008) 138 Swimming with Sharks (George Huang, ‘Trickster Wives and Maids’ (ATU 1992) 84 1741) 183n Troll Hunter (André Ovredal, Tabart, Benjamin 78 2010) 192n A Tale of Two Sisters (Kim Jee-woon, ‘The Twelve Brothers’ (Grimm) 178n 2003) 11, 18, 129–30, 131 Twin Peaks (TV series) 132, 171n ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ 37 Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (David Tangled (Nathan Greno and Byron Lynch, 1991) 132 Howard, 2010) 151–2, 192–3n Tyrannosaur (Paddy Considine, Tatar, Maria 2, 5, 20, 25, 26, 33, 34, 2011) 110–11 45, 51, 53, 54, 72, 73, 75, 78, 95–7, 98–9, 100, 102, 103–4, The Ugly Truth (Robert Luketic, 108, 124, 144, 156, 164, 174–5n, 2009) 36 176n, 177–8n, 181n, 184n, 187n, uncanny, the (unheimlich) 115–16 188n, 190n The Uninvited (The Guard Brothers, Tehrani, Jamshid 14, 173n 2009) 18, 131, 189n 10 Things I Hate About You (Gil Junger, unnatural father 187n 1999) 11, 37, 39, 47 see also ‘All-kinds-of-fur’, ‘Catskin’, Tenniel, John 158 ‘Donkeyskin’, ‘The Maiden with- The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe out Hands’ Hooper, 1974) 117, 138 The Usual Suspects (Bryan Singer, 13 going on 30 (Gary Winick, 1995) 81 2004) 179n Thompson, Caroline 66, 180n Valenti, Peter see fi lm blanc see also Edward Scissorhands The Vampire Diaries (TV series) 186n ‘Three Brothers’ (ATU654) 51 ‘Vasilisa the Priest’s Daughter’ 9 see also ‘’ narratives Vice Versa (Brian Gilbert, 1988) 56 Three … Extremes (2004) 133 The Village (M. Night Shyamalan, see also Dumplings 2004) 150, 192n

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Villeneuve, Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot Williams, Christy 48, 191n de 54, 178n Williams, Tony 116, 137, 187n see also ‘Beauty and the Beast’, Winter Witch (David Wu, 2012) 160 conteuses The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, The Virgin Suicides (Sofia Coppola, 1939) 152, 158 1999) 194n ‘The Wolf and the Kids’ (ATU 123) 173n Waitress (Adrienne Shelley, Wolf Creek (Greg Mclean, 2005) 167 2007) 43–4 ‘Wolfland’ (Tanith Lee, 1983) 149 Waking Ned (Kirk Jones, 1998) 85 Wood, Robin 115–16, 120, 139, War of the Roses (Danny De Vito, 187n 1989) 35 ‘The Wooden Baby’ 13 Warner, Marina 1, 3, 4, 5, 13–14, 28, Woolverton, Linda 55, 158 34, 53, 54, 55, 56, 66, 75, 78, 89, Working Girl (Mike Nichols, 1988) 30 94, 109–10, 119, 136, 148, 163–4, Wrong Turn (Rob Schmidt, 2003) 117 172n, 173n, 174n, 176n, 178n, 182n, 185n, 186n, 189n The X-Files (TV series) 171n ‘The Water of Life’ (ATU 551) 174n, X-Men 181n 178n, 182n Whale Rider (Niki Caro, 2002) 167 ‘Yotsuya Kaidan’ (Yotsuya Ghost What Happens in Vegas (Tom Vaughan, Story) 188n 2008) 34–5 ‘youngest son’ narratives 51, 53, What Lies Beneath (Robert Zemeckis, 73–4 2000) 104, 106, 107 ‘The Youth Who Wanted to Know What Women Want (Nancy Meyers, What Fear Is’ (ATU 326) 53–4, 2000) 59 178n Where the Wild Things Are (Maurice Sendak, 1963) 167 Zipes, Jack 1, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 13, 20, Whispering Corridors film series 130 22, 26, 27, 30, 44, 47, 48, 52, ‘The White Bride and the Black Bride’ 54, 70, 71, 73, 75, 103, 112, 116, (ATU 403) 41 137, 142, 147, 148, 156, 157, 164, ‘The White Cat’ (d’Aulnoy) 148, 165–6, 167, 168, 169, 172n, 174n, 176n 175n, 181n, 189n, 190n, 191n, Wicked (Gregory Maguire) 152 192n, 193n, 194n

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