...Disney

Last September I had one of the best experiences in my life, the chance to spend a year abroad for study. At the partner institution there were various classes in English to choose from – and there was one class in particular that caught everybody’s eye. Despite most of the natives not having a clue what was going on, hiding in the back to avoid getting picked to answer a question, there were still plenty of them in attendance; exchange students too were crowding in, hoping to secure a seat. The lecture in question just happened to have one word in the title, one word that brought huge numbers to the lecture theatre that first day. That word was Disney.

The premise was great: each lecture we would watch and analyse something Disney related, be it a television programme, a film, or nature documentary. Predictably, most of the students were only interested in the first part, and switched off for the rest. Who cares about media analysis; let’s just enjoy the cartoon at face value, guys! But here’s the thing; I actually learned something in that class (something other than what little clothing some of the characters were dressed in). I actually enjoyed the analysis just as much as the skilfully made animation. Some of the points the Professor raised were slightly contentious: as some of my classmates suggested, sometimes people do analyse just for the sake of analysis, sometimes they do try and make patterns out of anything and everything to try and understand their surroundings a little better. You know, as interesting as a comparison of The Little Mermaid to Soviet Russia may be, it’s not likely based on any sort of reality.

Still, I learned a lot. I learnt, for instance, that as strong willed and kick-ass as some of the heroines may seem (see Jasmine et al.) their strings are still pulled by the men around them. I learnt that as minority-friendly as Disney wants to seem, the stereotypes in their movies are still incredibly deep-rooted and seemingly irreversible. However, what I didn’t learn was a satisfying answer to the main question posed by the course: are Disney movies good for our kids?

I’ll focus on the issue I found the most intriguing: Disney and sexism. We were told that Disney not only promotes an unrealistic representation of women, but that it also fries out young girls’ minds and makes them want to turn into a servile, pandering version of Pamela Anderson. Oh I know. You’re thinking that the relationships in Disney movies were sweet and romantic, and that one day you’ll end up with a guy like that. Think again! I’m going to ruin this for you like it was ruined for me. (No, I honestly loved that class. Honestly.) Sweeping unrealistic expectations of romance aside, my eyes were opened to incredibly different and contentious views about certain ‘unhealthy’ relationships in Disney movies. Did Ariel transfer her desire for freedom onto a human male, thus going from being controlled by her father to being controlled by her husband? (I did warn you.) Could Belle and the Beast’s romance in Beauty and the Beast represent an abusive relationship? (It gets worse.) Is Jasmine merely a sexual ‘prize’ in the eyes of the males around her? (You can still back away to maintain your Disney innocence.) Vivian and Edward in Pretty Woman: could this relationship last in real life? Is Vivian using consumerism as a way to empower herself, and therefore can she ever be truly emancipated if she is ‘kept’ by a man? (Ok, you’re still here? Let’s destroy some dreams!)

If we look at the two movies Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin, we can see a connection between them, which is the illusion of choice. Disney sets up two males vying over one female, one because of purely self-seeking reasons and the other because of love. In other words, the audience is manipulated to pick a side, or to phrase it more accurately, to pick the side. For instance, while Gaston is set up to look like, for lack of a better expression, a complete douche bag, Jafar is just downright evil. (Kind of sexy too, but I guess you don’t see that when you’re eight years old.) The charming underdog Aladdin and the nervously bumbling Beast wander in and we’re smitten. However, just because Saint Aladdin and the Beast supposedly love their objects of affection, do they really make a decent alternative to the ‘bad guys’? Aladdin is a compulsive liar, incredibly cocky in an attempt to cover up his low self-worth, and is possibly more in love with the idea of being a Prince than being with Jasmine. Meanwhile, the Beast’s idea of a fun afternoon is to yell at and starve his guests while ripping apart his decor, imprisoning Belle in the minute chance that she will help him turn back into a human. In fact, all of these males are using the women in these movies for some selfish reason or another; why can’t the women choose option C and pick somebody better, or option D, which is to live happily ever after alone? The fact is, there is no choice; either way the woman gets fucked, and not in a good way.

Exhibit 1:

Cock jokes are always funny. Not pictured: Jafar and his cock.

The Little Mermaid and Cinderella also have a connection to each other, in that they pin the future happiness of their protagonist onto a fallible human being. A male that they have got to know in the shortest possible time: while Ariel has a shipwreck and three days to get to know Eric, with the constant pressure of having to get him to fall in love with her or end up as a piece of flotsam in Ursula’s freaky sea garden, Cinderella only has until the stroke of midnight. (I know that it adds a sense of urgency to the story, but I still can’t understand why it was necessary for Cinderella to leave at twelve on the dot. Maybe I’m just ungrateful, but what an incredibly annoying addendum. Old people, eh.) Ariel sacrifices her entire family to be with her man, mistakenly believing that it is he, and not her independence, that she had long desired when she lamented her tail below the surface. They may seem like similar sentiments, but ‘Part of that world’ and ‘part of your world’ are worlds apart. Cinderella, meanwhile, seems to be getting a better quality of life, but what with a husband who has seemingly had a personality transplant (maybe he donated it to Brian Blessed?) and a King obsessed with having grandkids (ride on his back like a horse - his dream, not mine. Should we consult Freud?) it doesn’t seem like Cinderella’s going to have much fun in that Palace, even if she doesn’t have to clean the drapes every second Tuesday.

And then we reach the modern day fairytale, proving that even us cynics can find true love, as long as we don’t mind walking around Central LA at 3 in the morning wearing a bikini and hooker boots; yes, it’s Pretty Woman. First of all, think back a little. Can you honestly tell me that at any point in the movie the protagonist ceases to be a prostitute? Because I can’t. Here’s another rhetorical question. Can material objects ever bring you real happiness? Disney seems to think so, and so did I until I reached the age of fourteen. I just ask that because Edward in his present state of mind is incapable of having a genuinely fulfilling relationship with any woman. All Julia Roberts is getting out of that relationship is ugly nineties twinsets and a deep seated complex about how Richard Gere doesn’t find her attractive enough, when the fault lies with both of them. We love our flawed anti-heroes, don’t we ladies? And we lovingly pass this way of thinking onto our innocent daughters, with saccharine movies about how emotionally fucked-up men will change if they’d only find the right woman, and that woman is definitely you, right? You’re going to be the one for him, even if he never lives up to his promises, cannot provide anything towards the family, is emotionally distant...(Okay, take a deep breath Alice...)

The truth is, Disney movies are not immediately damaging to our children. However, like most media of our time, there is an element of ideology embedded in every movie, ideology that your daughter will subconsciously consume and keep with her forever. Disney wants your daughter to follow her dreams, but only if those dreams remain within the framework of a patriarchal society that is near impossible to rise above. Girls are literally programmed to accept psychologically damaging relationships as romantic.

I love Disney movies, but if I want to learn how to be a successful and fulfilled woman, I know I have to look elsewhere.

...Lady Gaga

First of all, I just want to state very clearly that I like the music of Lady Gaga, I really do. Her catchy melodies are guaranteed to get me up on the dance floor, and it’s been many an evening where I’ve unreservedly sang along to one of her songs at Karaoke (or three, or five...) The point is, Lady Gaga deserves a proper analysis, because despite her millions of fans and hugely popular records, not to mention her avant-garde style of dressing and shocking stage antics, Stefani Germanotta leaves me feeling a little cold. Is she an artist? Personally I have never regarded her as such. For me, her outfits and lyrics are both devoid of any meaning, and her way of speaking is both patronising and pretentious. She wants you to love her or hate her, but honestly, until she brings out another amazing record, I’m feeling kind of apathetic.

At first glance she seems to be very different to anything out there, a very unique and talented songwriter. However, my first point is: does her superficial uniqueness equate to groundbreaking musician? In a world of highly sexualised bimbos and bland Indie outfits, is a woman wearing nothing but meat really bringing anything fresh to the music scene? (Meat? Fresh? Oh forget it...) My second point: what exactly is so incredibly different about Lady Gaga, anyway? If we’re judging on music alone, then while being very good at writing catchy hooks, her songs are easily comparable to other female solo artists of this generation. Many have said that she is not merely emulating her (rather predictable) musical heroes, that she is blatantly copying them and churning it out as her own work. If it wasn’t for the eerily hypnotic videos and the laughable outfit based publicity stunts, her music would be seen as quite pedestrian, if particularly catchy. Let’s try and untangle the music from the image. She sings about fame, about parties, about social anxiety, topics that singers have covered many times since Elvis first picked up a microphone. The girl could leave the house in nothing but a piano key necktie and flippers, but until her lyrics are original and have a deeper meaning to them, then I’m not buying this ‘unique’ label. (Besides, we all know Madonna did it first and slightly better, even if nowadays her image is more comparable to the child snatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.)

Lady Gaga also involves herself with issues that touch her heart, like the inequality of homosexuals, and...wait, that’s about it. But that’s admirable, right? Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that she has a huge gay following? Ok, too cynical. Anyone who helps the cause of other more marginalised people, whether for completely altruistic reasons or not, should be given some kudos. However. Dedicating Alejandro to her gay fans, when the vague lyrics seem to depict either a heterosexual relationship between a third party female and the listener (“’Cos she’s no good for you, no good for you”), or between herself and several third party males (“Don’t call my name / I’m not your babe”)? Confusing. It seems as though Lady Gaga can stand on a platform and preach about gay rights, and have homosexual males writhing provocatively in her videos, but touching lyrics about a normal, loving homosexual relationship? Unlikely.

Speaking of her fans, I read a really interesting article by the columnist Camille Paglia recently, which, although perhaps a little too critical for the sake of being controversial (ironic really, given the subject of her article) did raise some interesting points concerning Lady Gaga and her ‘Little Monsters’. To sum it up, Paglia claims that Lady Gaga treats her fans as though they were mentally damaged, and that only she can understand their problems and issues. From her article in The Sunday Times (12/10/10): “[Lady Gaga] constantly touts her symbiotic bond with her fans, the “little monsters”, who she inspires to “love themselves” as if they are damaged goods in need of her therapeutic repair.” This troubles me. Removing taboos from both depression and mental illness is admirable, but glamorising it? Giving it a name that promotes inclusion? Anyway, as much as Lady Gaga protests that she herself was also an outsider, the reason she gives is superficial and probably untrue: all the girls were blonde at school, so her and her brunette hair didn’t fit in. And now she’s blonde. This privileged young woman, who went to a prestigious school in New York, who had support from loving parents every step of the way, who was bankrolled by music agencies to begin her career; how can she hold herself up as a beacon for emotionally unstable young people? How can she ever hope to reach these people, to really grab hold of their hearts and say, “I understand what you’re going through!” when her entire public persona appears to be false? She claims to love her fans more than any artist has ever done so in the entire history of pop music, yet she gives them nothing. They give her their adoration, souls, and money. She feeds them an elaborate network of lies and a false empathy, and to make matters worse, her music is also soulless, full of disconnected, unfeeling lyrics such as, “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick!” Lady Gaga never has a relationship with men, she just fucks them. Fans, I see a pattern emerging.

To get back to my opening point though, contentious as it is, I personally have never respected Lady Gaga as an artist. Not in the meaning of a musician (which in itself is a completely dreadful employment of the word; not every painter is an artist, why is every singer?) but in the original meaning of ‘one who makes art’. Here is a woman who (literally) wears her politics on her sleeve, who claims that there is great meaning in everything that she does. This is clearly not true. Lady Gaga is a young woman who started off a semi-talented musician, but needed something to separate her from the Amy Winehouses and Katie Meluas of this world. Her outfits are not layered with deep philosophies; they are just increasingly more ugly and shocking than last week's mess. It wasn’t as if she started off with a narrative in her work, wearing designs that created a real artistic discussion. What she did is she started wearing quirky things to get noticed, and as her outfits escalated in insanity she gave them clichéd and clumsy meanings, as if that were her intention from the start. One day, will she finally run out of things to drape across her naked flesh? Will she then let her music speak for itself, or will she turn up at Heathrow airport, having murdered a bystander, their flesh wrapped around her shoulders, the dripping blood causing her 8 inch platform boots to slip on the floor, a protest against the ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’ policy? (See, I would consider myself fairly normal psychologically, but even I can come up with macabre bullshit. It’s not that hard. ) Seriously though, this stuff isn’t art. It wasn’t art when she ripped off glam rock, it wasn’t art when she moulded her hair into the shape of a button, and it isn’t art when she wears half a cow. It’s just excellent PR, which journalists lap up because they can’t be bothered to research real stories anymore.

Lady Gaga’s image is grotesque but no longer has the power to shock. Her music is catchy but soulless. And her persona is false, spouting contradictory rhetoric that uneducated teenagers lap up like she’s the first musician to ever philosophise about the music industry. I see her fans gang up on interviewers in comments on Youtube, screaming nonsense such as, “Don’t ask her about fake eyelashes, ask her about Freud!” Jesus. To be fair to Gaga, if her audiences are idiots then why not take them for a ride. You can’t get rich and famous without their pocket money, can you?

The Fame. Lady Gaga’s aim summed up in black and white. Unlike her hero, Andy Warhol, Lady Gaga could never make art out of her commercialism. It is fame, not high art, that she wants to achieve. Maybe to her, fame and art are the same thing.