The Little Mermaid has always been one of my favorite Disney movies. Right up there with Aladdin and my all-time favorite Beauty and the Beast. Each of these movies comes from the period that is referred to by many critics as the “Disney Renaissance”. All of these films were tremendous box office successes, and for good reason. The stories, animation, music, and voice acting are among the best in the company’s history, and they’ve each made an impact on children and adults that continues to this very day.
One thing about these movies that fascinates me is the extent to which they’ve become ingrained in our culture. I’m speaking primarily to people my age, born around the mid-1980s, who have been watching these films pretty much since they were old enough to watch anything. For instance, Beauty and the Beast, released in November of 1991, is the first movie I remember seeing in theaters. This coupled with the Walt Disney Classics line of VHS releases (which started around 1984 and was replaced by the Walt Disney Masterpiece Collection ten years later) ensured that we would be watching and re-watching these movies for the duration of our childhood and beyond. I feel that we’ve seen these movies so many times that in some ways we take them for granted. And since they were such large parts of so many of our lives, when we watch them today we tend to regress back to that childlike sense of excitement and familiarity for the hour and a half or so the feature lasts.
That being said, recently my roommates and I watched The Little Mermaid on DVD, a movie that, primarily due to how Disney chooses to market its DVD titles (which can be described as insane at best and pure fucking evil at worst) I hadn’t seen in quite some time. Perhaps due to this newfound level of disconnect I found myself noticing little quirky things that as a child I had never really noticed. Granted, analysis of Disney movies is definitely not a new thing, but I wanted to sidestep the more serious discussions about racism, sexism, classism, etc. that often come up in regards to these movies and share some of my idiosyncratic viewpoints on the film.
Before I get into this I just want to make it clear that no, the term “willing suspension of disbelief” is not lost on me. I realize that a lot of my observations are going to seem nitpicky, or like they came out of left field and that they could all be easily explained away with the phrase “Dude, relax. It’s just a cartoon.” So let me assure you, I didn’t lose any sleep thinking about these things. I just thought it would be funny to see what happens when we hold childrens movies to the same level of “scrutiny” that a lot of critics apply to more “adult” forms of expression.
Secondly, it’s important to understand that I’m treating this movie as a self contained world. I imagine that the plethora of sequels, cartoon series, childrens books, happy meal toys, etc. might explain (intentionally or not) some of the issues addressed below. I simply don’t have the desire or the resources to dig through years of mermaid-related media in search of answers. Believe it or not, even my nerdiness has its limits. Finally, I appreciate any comments/additional theories the three or four people who read this might feel like adding. However, let’s try to keep things civil. I have no interest in officiating over a flame war regarding Flounder’s sexual orientation. At least not today…
With that rather lengthy preface/disclaimer out of the way. Let’s get down to business!
1). Merpeople are vegans/vegetarians. I know, I know. This totally looks like wishful thinking on my part, but I really feel I have the beginnings of a solid case here. Mainly it’s a logistics issue. Merpeople live in the sea. Therefore, if they were going to eat animals, they would be eating aquatic animals. It seems unlikely they would do this based on the status of many of the animals seen in the movie. Sebastian is the court composer, Flounder is Ariel’s good friend and confidante, etc. I mean, merpeople are half fish themselves, so eating other fish seems to border on some bizarre form of quasi-cannibalism. At one point Triton refers to land dwellers disparagingly as “fish-eaters”, so clearly at least eating fish is distasteful to him. The only acception to this is Ursula, who eats a terrified little shrimp-like creature in one scene. This actually seems to strengthen the idea of merpeople being veggies, seeing as the act is depicted in a particularly cruel way, and this would contribute to Ursula’s already cruel persona. The horrors of eating animals also seem to be explored during the chef’s songs (albeit this is technically from Sebastian’s perspective). To Sebastian this scene is equivalent to a guided tour through Jeffrey Dahmer’s apartment. This scene takes place roughly at the same time Eric, Grimsley, and Ariel are seated at the dinner table. I think it would have been interesting to see the two scenes culminate in the actual serving of the food and what Ariel’s reaction to it would have been.
2). Ariel is inconsiderate. I realize that she’s only sixteen and that she’s disenchanted with her life in the ocean, but Ariel can sure be a bitch sometimes. I’m even willing to let slide her initial no-show at Sebastian’s epic “Daughters of Triton” performance that opens the movie. If only because it seems that she genuinely forgot about it and was somewhat remorseful. But her reaction (or lack thereof) during the impromptu “Under the Sea” performance was a complete dick move. Imagine that you’re one of those little instrument playing fish. This is your big chance to perform in front of royalty. You’re playing your little fins off because you love the princess and you want to help cheer her up. Everything has gone off flawlessly, you’re all just about spent, you turn in unison for the big payoff: the princess’ smiling face and adoration for a job well done. Oh, wait there is no payoff because Ariel just up and left right in the middle of the performance. She didn’t even try to excuse herself, just swam off without a thought for all her adoring subjects and their hard work. Real classy. Heaven forbid she think of anything but her own problems for three minutes. Imagine if this happened in real life. Princess Beatrice walks off in the middle of a command royal performance of, I don’t know, Cirque de Soleil because she’d rather go look at a bunch of junk that she collected. The newspapers would have a field day trying to fit in as many synonyms for the word “brat” into their articles as they could, and with good reason. Listen Ariel, just because you’re the heroine of this piece doesn’t mean you can forget a little thing called “courtesy”. For shame.
3). Sebastian is one hell of a composer. This one should really go without saying, I think. I mean, not only does he put on one hell of a planned show, but he’s also a master of on-the-spot improvisational composition. The above mentioned, unappreciated “Under the Sea” performance is a good example of this. Far more impressive, however, is the feat he pulls off with his “Kiss the Girl” production. Not only is he writing this thing on the fly, he’s enlisting the help of a whole chorus of animals who, not only has he never personally met, are probably species that he’s never seen before. Remember, Triton has a strict “no going to the surface rule” one that the law abiding Sebastian only breaks reluctantly, and even then only out of concern for Ariel’s well-being. So there’s an excellent chance that he’s never seen a frog, turtle, duck, flamingo, etc. before. This does not stop him in the least. To again use a real life comparison, imagine that you asked Phillip Glass to compose a love song for you on the spot. A pretty tough undertaking. Now imagine that his only accompaniment consists of a bunch of musicians he’s never met. Also, the musicians are aliens. I think you see where I’m going with this. It’s almost as if Sebastian possesses some kind of strange telepathic musical ability. In turn, he’s instantly able to tune into and influence the musical ability of any organism with whom he comes in contact. Also, at one point I’m pretty sure he gets the wind to blow on his command. We’re starting to get into super crustacean abilities right here. No wonder he’s the court composer. I bet he makes the last composer they had look like a tone deaf kid banging on a Sesame Street xylophone. When it comes to music, do not fuck with Sebastian.
4). Scuttle is an alcoholic. This is another one that I feel is pretty obvious, yet went completely unnoticed by me the first five hundred times I watched the movie. Watching it again, his drinking problem is painfully apparent. He has so many of the classic signs: slurred speech, lack of coordination, the inability to correctly utilize a telescope. They’re all there. Everyone thinks it’s so cute how he doesn’t know the names or uses for everyday human items. Let me clue you in on something, Scuttle knows damn well what those things are and what they do. He’s just too bombed out of his mind on stolen pirate rum to remember. I don’t know about you, but in my time I’ve seen a lot of drunken people misname and/or misuse common household items. Hell, it’s not a party until someone runs into the room wearing something on their head that is most certainly not a hat. No, it’s a colander. Scuttle syndrome in action. Keep in mind that I’m not judging Scuttle. He spends most of his life sitting on a small, barren rock in the middle of the ocean. I think we’d all have a nasty little habit if we were exposed to those conditions for very long. If he wants to drink, that’s fine. I’m all for it. Let’s just not kid ourselves by interpreting his actions as anything but what they are: the inept caperings of a severely drunken seagull. Need I remind you that one of the several definitions of the word “scuttle” is “to abandon, withdraw from, or cause to be abandoned or destroyed” Which is precisely what Scuttle does to his sobriety every day.
5). How does Merperson society work, anyways? As the punctuation may have led some of you to guess, this is more of a question than an observation, per se. I’m not looking for an in-depth analysis of their culture. Ok, maybe I am, but I’m willing to settle for answers to some of my more burning questions. It’s obvious that they have a written language from the contract that Ursula causes Ariel and Triton to sign, but on what kind of material is it usually kept? I’m assuming that the “paper” Ursula uses is magic, seeing as she produces the contract from nowhere, but even if it isn’t that still leads to further questions. Out of what is it made? What kinds of writing utensils do they utilize? Why doesn’t the paper float away? Which leads to a broader question, namely, how do merpeople get by when they can only have possessions that are heavy enough not to float away? Is it just a part of daily life? “Oh shit, my [insert name of light object] floated away again last night. I really need to start tying that thing down” On a larger scale, what kind of system of governance do merpeople have? Obviously Triton is the king, but is it an absolute monarchy or do they have a parliament of some kind? Are other sea creatures such as fish, crabs, octopi, etc. afforded all the same rights as merpeople, or is there a certain amount of social stratification? Do merpeople have any kind of organized religion? If so, what is it like? Does Triton, with his seemingly magical trident, serve as a religious figurehead as well as a ruler? To what extent are merpeople advanced technologically as compared to their human counterparts? Will I ever run out of questions? No. The answer to that last one is no.
Miscellaneous Observations (AKA: This post is already too long)
- Sharks are terrifying. If I was a merperson I would live in constant fear of renegade shark attacks
- Flounder must have some serious connections if he was the one who coordinated getting that statue of Eric into Ariel’s cave. There must have been at least a whale helping him. Also, how much does it suck for him that, after all that work moving the statue, King Triton blows it up about an hour later.
- What is the time period/setting of this movie? We’ve got horse and carriages as the main mode of transportation on shore. Plus it seems pretty acceptable for the eighteen year old prince to be marrying a sixteen year old wayward child. I’m guessing mid-19th century.
- If nothing else, you have to credit Ursula for her ruthlessness and efficiency. To go to all that trouble to get Ariel signed onto that deal, and then to immediately double cross her and set up her own wedding with Ariel’s true love. That’s some cold shit.
- That last point extends to Flotsam and Jetsam, who I think gave one of the more elegant rebuttals to a plan I’ve ever seen. What is their strategic response to the aforementioned “Kiss the Girl” extravaganza? Tipping the boat over, of course. No elaborate musical numbers involving the close cooperation of dozens of animals. Just good, old fashioned dickishness. Point – Team Ursula.
Ok, that’s about it, I think. Chances are it’s much more than most of you expected (or wanted). As I mentioned before, feel free to leave your thoughts or theories in the comments section, and let’s try to keep things constructive. If the reaction is favorable perhaps I’ll revisit other Disney or equally children-related fare. If it’s not, I’ll probably end up doing it anyway. Enjoy.
