#46: Let's cluck

(c) Disney

Chicken Little, 2005
watched August 5, 2012

Chicken Little is one of those familiar tales that has a variety of names and outcomes, with a single element that threads them all together, the famous adage: "The sky is falling!"

But Disney's 2005 version (there was a 1943 Disney short of the same title) veers rather far from the original folk tale, taking a sci-fi spin (yup, more aliens) and adding pop culture-y humor. While the alleged falling sky plays a key role in the plot, Chicken Little is less of a warning not to believe everything you hear, and more about the power of believing in the people you love.

Chicken Little is the ultimate underdog. He's small and unpopular, and always seems to get the short end of the stick. While he struggles to be accepted by his peers, the film's central relationship is between Chicken Little and his father, who happens to be [GASP!] a widower. Similar to Tarzan, Chicken Little does not focus on redemption from his embarrassing "acorn incident," but on making his father proud once and for all.

Though he is encouraged to communicate his issues to his father, instead he joins the baseball team. You know, communication, baseball. Same thing. When Chicken Little finally hits a home run against their biggest rival, their family problems appear to be resolved. Then the aliens arrive, and it all goes haywire.

Dude. Aliens ruin everything.

Ultimately, Chicken Little realizes he needs to talk to his father about how he feels. Amidst invading aliens wreaking havoc through their town, father and son have a heartfelt conversation for the first time. At last, Chicken Little hears the words he has longed to hear: "I love you, son."

Although our Father is not at all embarrassed or unsupportive like Mr. Little, we often perceive him this way. We believe the lies that he's a father from whom we must earn love and approval. That our dreams and hopes are foolish in his eyes. That he is ashamed when we make mistakes. These ideas about our Father's character come from a lack of communication. The more we distance ourselves from him, the longer we perpetuate these false beliefs.

Sometimes it takes catastrophic situations in our lives, like an alien invasion, to serve as a catalyst to push us towards him, leading us to cry out and express our despair. When this happens, we see that he's nothing like the cold, disapproving parent we thought he was. Close conversations with him reveal the truth: our Father's love is unconditional. All along he has been waiting to tell us, "I love you, son." "I love you, daughter."

Maybe aliens aren't so bad after all.

#31: Flying Free

Aladdin, 1992
watched April 8, 2012

You might say my love of Disney animated movies began the first time I saw Aladdin, Abu and the Magic Carpet race through the Cave of Wonders, trying to escape waves of exploding lava. I remember thinking, Wow, this is amazing! I feel like I'm flying! It was a completely new sensation, and I was convinced it was the best thing ever.

I was 10 when my dad brought my siblings and me to see Aladdin, our very first movie at the theater, on a Saturday afternoon while my mom was at work. And it's been a twenty-year long love affair with the magic and adventure of Disney ever since.



  The larger critical mass of guys at my Disney nights means frequent commentary about the difficulty of certain video game levels. Apparently the Cave of Wonders level is super hard.
Like so many Renaissance movies, central to this film is the main character's quest to achieve his dream. Outwardly, Aladdin would describe his dream as "winning the heart of a beautiful princess." But in reality, this story is about a journey of identity.

Early on, the reprise of "One Jump Ahead" reveals Aladdin's dislike of being defined by his social class. "If only they'd look closer," people would know that he's much more than just a poor orphan boy. And, though most of us are not orphans, or poor, we know what it feels like to be labeled and put in a box, and to long to be truly known.

Aladdin's qualities are highlighted when he encounters Genie. At the opportunity to be granted a wish (or three), he does the unconventional, asking Genie what he would wish for. Learning of Genie's imprisonment, Aladdin promises to use his third wish to set him free. No one but a "diamond in the rough" would make such a generous offer.

At the same time, however, Aladdin's perception of what makes him worthy becomes muddled as he uses his first wish to transform into the handsome, wealthy Prince Ali (although, okay, let's just admit it: he was already handsome to begin with). No longer looked down upon, he realizes he enjoys the perks that come along with being a prince. Suddenly the "labels" that bothered him so much as a street rat seem to work to his advantage with his newly advanced status.

And so, it's no wonder that when he finally wins Jasmine's affection, he is left feeling empty and confused. He gets exactly what he wants, and yet remains unhappy. Retracting his promise to Genie, Aladdin hopelessly holds onto what he thinks makes him worth Jasmine's love. As a result, he not only begins an avalanche of disasters for himself and all of Agrabah, but his reputation for being an honest, good person is called into question.

Most of us fall somewhere between street rat and prince, and yet we, too, cling to that which we think will make us special, important, valued. It's usually something easily seen: our success, material possessions, charisma, or looks. As much as we don't like labels, we subconsciously reenforce them by living as if they were the most important aspects of ourselves. I've never seen this more truly in my life than this year as I've unabashedly embraced my identity as "The Disnerd."

It takes Aladdin a trip to the frozen ends of the earth and a battle with a twisted, evil snake to realize that what makes him worthy is something that he already has. When he finally understands who he is, who has been all along, then there is real freedom. Not only for Genie, but for himself as well. Living in that freedom is probably a lot like flying on a Magic Carpet. And I know what that's like.

#29: Don't judge a mouse by his accent

(c) Disney

Rescuers Down Under, 1990
watched March 25, 2012

As I mentioned, this is the only sequel in the entire canon. Walt Disney was adamantly against sequels, which is why there were none until after his death. I have to agree with Walt on this one; I have yet to see a great Disney sequel. There are many I refuse to watch, on principle.

This one isn't bad, though. Let's be honest here, the Australian setting automatically bumps up Rescuers Down Under's cool factor. Kind of like guys with Australian accents. I mean, hello, Hugh Jackman? Chris Hemsworth?

Anyway. I digress.

This sequel further develops the story arc of our two main characters. In the first film, we see these two seemingly opposite mice meet and work together for the first time. Here in Down Under, they are still very much the odd couple, and yet there is now also mutual trust and affection. Giving Bernard and Bianca a second film provides the implication that they've built a relationship over a period of time, which we don't see in any other romantic stories. It's refreshing, as well as super cute and endearing.

And of course, as in most romantic plots, a threat to the relationship gets thrown into the mix. In this case, that threat comes in the form of a charming kangaroo rat named Jake. He embodies the adventure and suaveness that Bernard most definitely does not. (Not insignificantly, he also has an adorable Australian accent. Ahem...) When Miss Bianca appears to be quite taken with the new guy, only the audience sees Bernard's unwavering affection, and his frustration that he can't find the right moment to express his real intentions.

The most heartwarming line in the movie comes during the climax. Jake and Miss Bianca are trapped and unable to protect Cody, the boy kidnapped by villain poacher McLeach. The golden eagle Marahute's precious eggs are also vulnerable. When Bianca assures Cody that Bernard will help, Jake thinks she's just bluffing to make Cody feel better. But then Bianca's true feelings are revealed:

"You don't know Bernard like I do. He'll never give up!"*

Jake isn't a bad guy, but he is quick to assume that Bernard has nothing to offer. Bianca, on the other hand, sees that underneath his nervous exterior is a brave and determined mouse, reliable and trustworthy. That is the mouse she has grown to love.

In life we're often attracted to external qualities: charisma, good looks...Australian accents. But these are not the things which matter most. Bernard reminds us that the person who may not demand our attention is often the one whose character proves to be the deepest and richest. Bianca reminds us that one must be willing to spend some time in order to discover this treasure of a person.

So give that unassuming person in your life some time and energy. They may surprise you.

(*note: this quote may or may not be a paraphrase. I don't know this movie well enough to quote it word for word!)

#23: Against all odds

(c) Disney

The Rescuers, 1977
watched February 5, 2012

• Cute lonely orphan? Check.
• Cute anthropomorphic mice? Check.
• Crazy frightening villain? Check.

The Rescuers has all the right ingredients for a classic Disney animated film. Indeed, these elements make up for the premise of a compelling story. As we've seen in the past, underdogs often lie at the heart of these movies. And this one is teeming with them.

First, there's the sad but adorable gap-toothed orphan Penny, whose only friend is a mute teddy bear (that bears a striking resemblance to last week's Winnie the Pooh, come to think of it). Seriously, how could any adoptive parents pass this girl up for some redhead? (I seem to recall someone yelling, "I'll adopt you, Penny!" while we watched this two Sundays ago.) When she's kidnapped and forced into child slave labor, I was practically ready to jump into the screen myself to go find her. Needless to say, we're dealing again with a story about injustice, victims and villains.
 
But Penny's advocates don't include a big brave superhero, like Robin Hood, whose precision and wit make it seem almost easy for him to overcome the bad guys. There's no large community of "orphan helpers" either, like the network of dogs in 101 Dalmatians. Instead, there are two small mice, part of the Rescue Aid Society, who mean well but are in fact, well, mice. Miss Bianca, a seemingly delicate yet determined and compassionate mouse, makes a surprising choice for her case partner, Bernard, the janitor-turned-rescue agent. Not surprisingly, he's quite nervous about the whole situation (not to mention being paired with a lovely and slightly intimidating female mouse). Their only help is found in a clumsy albatross, a frazzled dragonfly and some swamp muskrats. It's easy to see why one might doubt their likelihood of success.

And let's not forget Medusa, the villain, who is as scary and threatening as they come. Anyone willing to enslave an innocent orphan must really be ruthless. She actually makes Cruella de Vil look like a bit of a pansy (they do share the same reckless driving, however). Also, she really needs a bra. Hmm...I seem to really have a thing about missing clothing.

So the odds are against our small heroes. And that is exactly why this movie is so moving (I'll even forgive the uber-70's music accompanied by pastel watercolor backgrounds). When the obstacles seem insurmountable, these brave rodents teach us that there's no room for passive sympathy. They show us that anyone can, and must, take action to protect the vulnerable. If it's something worth fighting for, then by golly, don't let anything stop you.

But what motivates such brave resolve to fight injustice? While the film's Disney-esque "just have a little faith" ideology is vague at best, fortunately, I know of a real kind of faith. It's not actually the faith itself that achieves us victory; it's the object of faith that matters. And mine is a Person, more powerful than any villain, Disney or otherwise. When I feel small and the world overwhelms, I remember this Person and I know I really can beat the odds.

#18: A Glimpse of Greatness

Sword in the Stone, 1963
watched December 18, 2011

(c) Disney

As much as I enjoy writing for this blog, I have to say taking 2 1/2 weeks off was wonderful. It was nice spending time with family and friends who know me not as just a Disnerd but as a real whole person with other interests!

But that's over now. Back to the Disnerdy fun!

The story of Sword in the Stone is quite bare (a couple of my friends even fell asleep), but I was quite intrigued by the relationship between the wise, quirky wizard and the awkward cracking-voiced adolescent.

And no, I'm not talking about Dumbledore and Harry.

At present, Wart is clumsy, hesitant, and naive. Others see him as nothing but a dumb kid who will never amount to anything. Even his given nickname indicates how he is perceived: annoying, useless, and unwanted. It seems as if Wart believes this about himself too. Again we see the "Underdog Effect" as is common in Disney movies, but he is so pathetic that even the audience isn't sure if rooting for him is worth it.

Merlin, however, looks into the future (and well, as a powerful wizard I guess it's easier for him to do that than it is for us normal folk) and gets a glimpse of Wart's potential. Despite what he is now, Merlin sees and treats the young boy as the future great king of England, investing all of his time preparing Wart for his royal role. While the film lacks any significant feeling of threat or conflict (sorry, but "villain" Madam Mim was kind of a joke), each scenario that Merlin and Wart find themselves in presents opportunities for Wart to learn important values and overcome difficulties. It is in these moments of teaching and growing where the heart of the story lies.

I have had the privilege to know a couple of "Merlins" in my own life. They were people who saw me not as a quiet, aimless girl, but as someone who had leadership qualities and gifts. They instilled in me the value of training, Bible study, prayer and discernment. They gave me opportunities to lead and grow. I was encouraged to hone my natural strengths and challenged to do things I never realized I could do. I am quite sure I would not be where I am now without their guidance, encouragement and friendship.

In the film, we never see Wart embody the great King Arthur that is described in folklore and legend. In fact even as he is crowned king (sorry for the spoiler, hah), he appears extremely uncomfortable with his new responsibility and power. That's not so dissimilar to us. Maybe we are thrust into situations that seem more challenging than we are prepared to handle. Perhaps somewhere along the way you have felt that you disappointed your mentors or yourself.

But it is not about successes or failures, it's about identity. We are each created with gifts and abilities that were meant to be used for the good of others. And the "Merlins" in our lives are the ones who not only see that but bring it out of us when we don't even know how. They come alongside us to remind us of who we are in Jesus: royal priests, chosen and set apart for something wonderful. I am thankful for the women and men who live as Merlins (many of whom I get to work with), seeing people not as they are but who they are destined to become.

#17: Give a Helping Paw

Disney has officially overloaded my cuteness threshold.

One Hundred and One Dalmatians, 1961
watched December 11, 2011

My recent viewing of this movie had me reflecting on the many dogs that come alongside Pongo and Perdita to rescue their stolen puppies. I never realized how instrumental these unassuming side characters are to the story. When the dalmatian parents find themselves in need, they utilize the "canine telegraph system" to request help and information.

As a result, their puppies are successfully located, and as they endeavor to bring them (and the other 84 puppies, a total of 99) back home, the dogs within the "telegraph system" provide directions, shelter, food, and protection from the threatening Cruella and her henchmen Horace and Jasper. Though they will never grace the cover of the DVD or be listed first in the movie credits, these dogs (as well as cats, horses, ducks, and cows) are the true heroes of the film.

Especially courageous is the mangy farm cat, Sergeant Tibs, who enters the house where the 99 puppies are being held captive, and leads them out, one by one. Although he has never even met Pongo and Perdita, he risks his life trying to save their puppies.

Generosity, hospitality, love and loyalty are displayed by characters who have nothing to do, really, with the main story. Strangers, who, simply because of a common bond, give aid at a moment's notice, despite the dangers or inconvenience.

A couple of my friends suggested that I talk about the movie's parallels with Christian community. It's true; there are similarities here. When we are graciously adopted into the family of God, that means we have a built-in network of brothers and sisters with whom we are called to share life. In the early church we see the complete and total generosity that the believers had towards one another. It was a time when no one was in need.

But I fear that much has changed since then. What would it look like if today's Church embodied the nature of this dog community from 101 Dalmatians? If we were the network that listened for and acted on opportunities to help others, no matter their "breed," location, or relationship to us? Furthermore, how could we go beyond our own, to rescue those other 84 dalmatian puppies, unrelated to us, but vulnerable and oppressed?

I am thankful for people who do give of themselves in this way and love those in need. I think of the good people at International Justice Mission who are fighting to stop human trafficking, or my friends in Maryland, whose church small group members speak into each other's life struggles with truths from Scripture. There are countless other examples.

And yet, as I reflect on my own life and community, I can't say this has always been my experience. Often we are too busy to look beyond ourselves. We've got so much going on that we can't hear or see those around us who need help. I say "we," knowing I myself am a selfish person most of the time, but also that I'm not alone in my guilt.

The dogs were compelled to help the 101 dalmatians simply because they belonged to the dog "family." What compels us to love should be a deep, real understanding that we belong to Christ. And like those dogs in the telegraph system, we should be listening and ready to demonstrate that love.

#12: Transformed

Cinderella, 1950
watched November 6, 2011

(c) Disney

As a classic Disney underdog protagonist, Cinderella lives in very sad and cruel circumstances. Yet, she is beautiful, kind, loving, diligent, optimistic, and a little bit sassy (which I didn't actually notice until this viewing). Hence, there are endless reasons we have to love this character. I mean, c'mon, she makes adorable little outfits for the mice she rescues! How can you not wish for all her dreams to come true?

But beyond just really liking Cindy, all of us probably also connect with her on some level. I know I feel that same deep longing she feels when she so beautifully sings, "...no matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep believing, the dream that you wish will come true." Amidst deep sadness and pain, her hope and resilience astounds me.

Cinderella reminds us that transformation is possible, that we don't have to settle for loneliness, loss, oppression or injustice. And in a world where these things are the norm, it's no wonder that her story has transcended time and culture.

thought this was a funny moment. she looks so surprised!

But where does transformation come from? In the past, I have been critical that Cinderella is so passive about her situation. Perhaps I've watched too many modern adaptations of Cinderella and have become used to the independent, wily versions of her character (think Drew Barrymore in Ever After). Why doesn't she run away and escape life with her evil stepmother? Surely her birth parents had relatives or other friends that could have cared for her. When she cannot go to the ball, why does she sit crying, instead of finding some way to get there on her own? When she gets locked in the attic, why doesn't she try to climb out the window or break out?

I guess I'm willing to look at it differently this time around. Perhaps Cindy could have tried to break free from her oppression, but there are many situations in real life where this is not an option. The Fairy Godmother grants Cinderella her deepest wishes when she is at her lowest point. I see a faint glimpse of the One who grants us true transformation when we were completely powerless to do it on our own. Jac and Gus painstakingly haul the key to the attic up the stairs so Cindy can claim her identity as the wearer of the glass slipper (and the one whom the Prince loves). I hear echoes of the One who endured pain and suffering so that we could claim our identity as the bride of Christ.

The Cinderella story is a fairy tale of oppression, transformation, rescue and a happy ending. But it's merely a small sliver of a true story, the one about the God who rescues us from sin and slavery so that we can live in freedom and joy.

Stay tuned for more Cindy posts!

#4: The Underdog's Advocate

Dumbo, 1941
watched September 11, 2011

(c) Disney - Dumbo may be hands down the cutest main character of any Disney film. But it's early yet.

So many Disney films, and pretty much every other classic hero's tale, center on a character who starts off with a disadvantage. And there is perhaps no better example than that of Dumbo, whose enormous ears make him the laughingstock of the circus. To make things worse, his mother is locked up for sticking up for her beloved baby, separating Dumbo from the one who loved him most. He is lonely and lost. The "Baby Mine" scene is so heart-wrenching and moving, we forget we are watching silent, animated elephants.

And so it is easy to feel for Dumbo, the ultimate loner, outcast, underdog (underelephant?). Certainly everyone has encountered unwarranted ridicule and rejection at some point in their life. It's a lonely place when it seems like the world is against you.

I wonder though, how many of us relate to Timothy Mouse, who, delightfully, is the sidekick that Jiminy Cricket was not in Pinocchio. While others reject Dumbo, Timothy goes out of his way to befriend him, and then makes it his mission to help Dumbo succeed. Even while Dumbo's attitude is rather defeatist, Timothy is unwaveringly optimistic and persistent. (He's my current favorite Disney mouse - if you're paying any attention to my polls of the week. hehe...)

I love to focus on Dumbo and point out all the things I have in common with him, but how often do I put myself in Timothy's shoes and ask, who are the Dumbos in my life? Who can I embrace and love that the world has rejected? (It's interesting to me that these loyal sidekicks never seem to be at the center of these films. No, they are too humble and too devoted to their best friend/main character to call any attention to themselves. Think Samwise Gamgee.)

While most underdog stories communicate, "Believe in yourself and you can achieve your dreams," I find that the real message of Dumbo relies much more on the actions of his loyal friend Timothy. Without Timothy, Dumbo certainly would have never had the initiative or courage to fly. He achieves success in his circus career and a happy reunion with his mother because someone had the courage to first love and accept him as he was. The ultimate underdog had the ultimate advocate.

We too have the ultimate Advocate, and we also can be that advocate for others.


(More to come. Dumbo has a plethora of interesting scenes and characters, even though at 64 minutes, it is the shortest  of all 51 feature animated films!)