I love this one--so much. I mean, I'm going to love anything with Elsa, but this is just awesome.
And, it needs to be said, I love Elsa's ice-queen dress -- and that they're copying the style of it for Frozen Fever. I know that it's received a lot of criticism -- for the very thing that Amy Mebberson pokes fun at here: it's a very form-fitting, slinky dress with a very high slit.
(Although, I'm not sure Snow White would be the prudish one...I bet that would be Cinderella. Or Aurora. Those 1950s girls...I can see Snow White rocking it -- especially with her curvier figure. But this digression has gone on a bit too long.)
Back to Elsa's dress: some people don't like it--and I kinda understand why.
Example #1: In a blog post titled "Does "Frozen" Ballad Send The Wrong Message" by Stacy-Ann Gooden, she ultimately thinks the song doesn't, but quotes an NPR to help argue her case. She quotes a few of the comment-responses, and one commenter in particular sums things up nicely:
“I love the message of the song, but I wish the character visually represented the lyrics. It seems the animators couldn’t help but visually send the message that “letting it go” means putting on high heels, caking your face in make-up, and showing very little passion in your face (aside from constantly smiling) during the emotionally charged parts of the song. Visually, this still sends the wrong message that girls must still be worried about being sexy during their journey of self discovery and empowerment.” (my emphasis)There's also an article over at Slate by Dana Stevens, titled "I Can't 'Let It Go'." This might be the piece which received the most attention, and in it, Stevens says,
"...That perfect girl is gone,” she declares as she ditches her old look (a modest dark-green dress and purple cloak, hair in a neatly tucked-up braid) for one that’s arguably even more “perfect.” By the time she sashays out onto that balcony to greet the dawn, Elsa is clad in a slinky, slit-to-the-thigh dress with a transparent snowflake-patterned train and a pair of silver-white high heels, her braid shaken loose and switched over one shoulder in what’s subtly, but unmistakably, a gesture of come-hither bad-girl seduction." (my emphasis)I think the last comments by Stevens trouble me the most -- the idea that Elsa's physical, outward transformation is "unmistakably" -- such a strong word -- "a gesture of come-hither-bad-girl seduction."
Why? Why does Elsa -- in her new dress -- have to be a bad girl? Why do we have to interpret this as seduction? After all, who is she seducing? She's alone in her ice palace on top of an isolated mountain -- there are no men (or women) around. To me, it's not like Jasmine prancing around the palace dressed like a belly-dancer or a harem girl. Or Pocahontas traipsing through the woods in a tiny, one-shoulder dress. Or Esmeralda provocatively dancing through the Parisian square (although that's relevant to the plot of the movie).
We, as an American society, tend to vilify female sexuality. There are so many instances of double-standards: if a guy has a "one-night stand" (a problematic term in and of itself), he's slapped on the back and praised for his behavior; if a girl has one, she's a "slut" or "easy." Only girls do the "walk of shame." It's such a Victorian concept -- the idea that female sexuality is somehow a dangerous thing -- and we still haven't let go of it.
After all, "Let It Go" is a ballad of empowerment and the value of being true to yourself--and the fact that Elsa's outward transformation is vilified despite her inner transformation...well, it hurts my heart. I know it's a children's movie, but I don't think you can easily say that Elsa's physical changes are connected to her sexuality.
Sexuality in Disney is a notoriously tricky subject. Scholars have lambasted Disney for the stark dichotomy traditionally used: "good" characters are the pure and chaste young princesses; "evil" characters are the seductive, sexual middle-aged villainesses. In the fairy tales that pit women against women, beauty and jealousy are usually at the heart of the conflict. Even in a film as recent as Tangled, Mother Gothel keeps Rapunzel locked up so that she use Rapunzel's magic to stay young and beautiful -- it's essentially Snow White, but 70 years later. Regardless, in Disney films, "good" girls are asexual at best -- they're prim, they're proper, and when they're in love, they bat their eyelashes, smile sweetly, and never give their beaux more than a chaste True Love's Kiss.
Which is a horrible message to send to young girls -- the idea that their sexual identity is something that they should be ashamed of. But when we finally get a Disney heroine who shows a smidgeon of sexuality, she's attacked for it.
And the thing is, the amount of detail that went into Elsa's transformation is so important. In Arendelle, Elsa has been raised (by probably the worst parents ever) to fear her own identity: she shoves down her emotions, represses her magic, and keeps everything bottled up. In the film, we see this visually in (1) her gloves -- which hide her powers and which she relies on as a mask when she starts to lose control; (2) her formal royal attire -- see her high-necked gown with the full skirt and especially the cape, which, sitting on her shoulders, literally envelops her and enfolds her in a blanket of repression; and, finally, (3) her hairstyle -- with the tight braids and the tightly-wound bun, we never see a hair on adult-Elsa's head out of place.
So, during "Let It Go," Elsa sheds each of those symbols of her repression and fear. First, she sends the gloves spiraling off into the snow. Then, in a move that would make Edna Mode proud, she lets the cape go and it flutters away into the distance. Finally, after she's loosened up and experimented with her powers, she changes the way she looks. She loses her modest, confining gown and trades it for a looser, freer, ice-inspired gown. And, perhaps most importantly, she literally lets down her hair -- in the process, tossing away her tiara, another trapping of her repressed state -- opting for a messy braid bedazzled with tiny snowflakes. But it's also important, because, as "Do You Wanna Build A Snowman" shows us, the braid is her connection to her younger self -- the self that built snowmen and ran around the halls with Anna. It's only once her parents leave -- once the fear and anxiety have truly set in, heightened by her being in charge during her parents' absence -- that she adopts her more conservative, repressive hairstyle. Elsa's hairstyle mirrors her internal state.
So if new, empowered, freer Elsa wants to wear a dress with a thigh-high slit, I say, "You go, girl!" If she wants to wear sparkly high-heels, more power to her. If she wants to wear purple eyeshadow, why shouldn't she? What's so wrong with that? The quote in the title of this blog post comes from The Devil Wears Prada -- such a great movie about the power of fashion in general. But in Frozen, Disney reflects the idea that "Fashion is not about utility...[but is] used to express individual identity."
Elsa's not changing clothes for a man, she's not doing it for attention, she's doing it because she wants her outside to match what she feels on the inside. And if that involves wearing a sparkly dress and some high-heels, then that's what right for her. Do empowered women have to wear pantsuits and practical suits? If they want to, sure. But if she wants to wear a dress and heels, then she should have that choice and that freedom. To say that doing so makes her a "bad girl" -- well, that seems dangerously close to the claim that a girl who wore a short skirt was "asking" to be raped. That statement is in no way intended to trivialize the trauma of rape. Instead, I mean to connect the idea that women's fashion choices somehow reflect their sexuality and their personality -- that women who wear high heels and short skirts or form-clothes are more promiscuous and are "bad."
Is Elsa sexy in this moment, in this dress? Absolutely. But as much as her dress and shoes contribute to this, I think her sexiness is heightened by her confidence. In this moment, she has built a kick-ass ice palace, created life (Olaf!), and accepted who she is: that's confidence. What other people think doesn't matter--after all, as she tells us, "I'm alone, but I'm alone and free." And this is what makes Elsa a truly unique and empowering Disney heroine: for once, sexiness means confidence, not waiting helplessly for a man to rescue you.
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