#3 Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eolewyn1010 · 4 months ago

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tags by @mutantenfisch who at the time didn't have the time to actually write said essay

*cracks knuckes, channels that East German cultural heritage* Let's do this. Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel / Three Nuts for Cinderella, go:

Cinderella herself: So, we come with the cultural pre-damage that, regardless of sexuality, we all were at least a little bit in love with her actress Libuše Šafránková at some point, but still, hear me out. Now, optically, Cinderella in this movie initially fits what OP described as the "Waif" portrayal; she is smudged with ashes (though she tries to clean herself up before she leaves the house, making the best of what little she's given) and dressed in rags, and yeah, you can feel sorry for her with her step family treating her like crap. BUT. Her behavior is almost diametrically opposed to this. The very first time she speaks on screen, she takes action; she goes between her stepmother and a servant who broke something in the household, claiming that she broke it so her stepmother won't beat the servant. This establishes (1) that she is helpful and compassionate and will divert others' suffering where she can and (2) that her stepmother, however much she belittles and mistreats her, will not beat her. Next, she goes back to work, not without a bitter comment on how her father didn't treat her stepsister any worse than her. This establishes (3) that she is wholly aware of her situation, and has been suffering it long enough to snark about it. She is young, she looks pitiful in her rags - but she is neither fragile nor melancholy, and she's not wide-eyed innocence either. She secretly goes riding in the forest when she can slip away (I see what you did there, 2015's Cinderella), and then she meets the Prince. It's hilarious. She smacks him and his hunting companions with a few snowballs to keep them from shooting a doe, and when they realize that they have "just a little girl" before them and condescend to her, she snarks again, steals the Prince's horse (which, ostensibly, will allow no one but him on his back) and rides off. Now, a rather spirited Cinderella is not so unusual anymore these days, but 1973? Granted, she has more edge than Disney's Cinderella, she's doesn't appear as polished, but she is also a whole lot of fun. She's learned hunting and shoots better with a crossbow than the Prince and his friends, she intrigues him and engages him in some verbal sparring every time they meet, and she mostly leaves those talks smiling to herself - she has fun with this, too. Indeed, despite her circumstances, we only ever see her resigned once: When her stepmother ruins her chances of going to at least watch the ball by...not even by shredding her dress, but by giving her a petty, pointless, incredibly arduous task and telling her not to leave the house before it's finished. Until then, we see her talking back at her stepsister and, when she can get away with it, even at her stepmother, taking her moments of peace, and sharing a warm relationship with the servants of the house without being deterred by her step family. She is told not to go to the ball - and then sneaks there anyway for more flirty banter with the Prince. She is (4) defiant, (5) not one to give hin to despair, and (6) despite all her spunk, she is not usually harsh. She likes to needle the Prince, but only to get him out of his snooty manchild mindset. (In fact, now that I'm writing this, I'm wondering if the Ever After makers watched this version before they got to work.) And there is the confidence she shows in the end, but we'll get to that.

The Evil Stepmother: Granted, she's not exactly a nuanced character - she's a rich widow who runs her deceased husband's estate and wants her daughter to marry as rich as possible. So far, so standard. I'm wondering if anyone would call her portrayal sexist tho. We see that she's cruel to her stepdaughter and the servants, but there's no indication that she's anything less than competent as the boss and as a social climber. Granted, she's a bit of a brown-noser toward the king and queen, but then, who wouldn't. I will admit that she's not the sheer, unfiltered menace that Disney's Lady Tremaine is, but that doesn't make her very real abuse of Cinderella any more harmless. She may be pompous, but the problem is that she's not an idiot. She is still manipulative and will stop at nothing to get Cinderella out of the way, not so much out of sadism here, but out of opportunism. That may be more basic, but it's also more based - a widow in the renaissance would of course want her daughter to marry up the foodchain; that's just good practice. It's just the way she goes about this includes lying, cheating, and kidnapping.

The animals: Now, this is not a Disney movie, so obviously the animals aren't as involved in the plot. But neither are they irrelevant. Cinderella is established as a bold rider, and there's her horse Nikolaus which she inherited from her father and holds dear like nothing else. What they do is ground Cinderella in her home, her place in the world: She won't leave there, even though her stepmother treats her horribly, when she has her cat waiting to be fed, her dog wanting to run with her outside, her beloved Nikolaus who gives her moments of freedom and carries her to the Prince, time and time again as they meet in the forest and later at the ball. And this bond with her animals is important because this movie still leans heavily on the Grimm fairytale - where the doves / pigeons come to help her out with her stupid separate-the-peas-from-the-lentils task. They do so here, too, and we believe immediately that they would want to help her out because we have already seen how well these animals feel around her and how they love her. Perhaps no points for originality here because Disney did it first, but Disney also can anthropomorphize its animals all it wants. Here we have mostly realistic animals, but we know that pets get used to their owners, that they remember who feeds them and gives them scritches. Again, Cinderella earns her reward with kindness, not by being pitiful.

The servants: Here's some originality for you; Cinderella is not the only servant in the house. In fact, her stepmother not beating her whem she would beat the poor kitchen boy sets Cinderella's station still a bit above the servants, albeit not on par with her step family. But, different than her stepmother, she never treats the servants as lesser. Perhaps even more than her relationship with the animals, her relationship with the servants establishes her character. She has in-jokes with the old stablemaster, she lets herself be comforted by the cook, she has a little banter with the kitchen boy although it's not on the same level as that with the Prince. And not only does she support them wherever she can - they do the same for her in turn, cover up for her when she takes her ten minutes of freedom, make sure she can spend time with Nikolaus, tease her about the Prince. Her stepmother may bear the title, but these people are her family.

Rosalie the Owl: This version of Cinderella has a less obvious Fairy Godmother than most, in that she's not a fairy or even humanoid at all. Rosalie is an owl that is not Cinderella's pet; Cinderella says "you can fly wherever you want," and we very much see her roaming outside. She's not a Disney animal either; she doesn't talk to Cinderella. But there's no denying she's listening. Cinderella tells Rosalie of her worries and dreams, of the situation at home and her crush on the Prince, and she never really seems to expect anything to come out of it - but when magic happens, she looks at Rosalie. It's never actually spelled out that Rosalie made a hunting outfit, a ballgown, and a bridal gown appear from the hazelnuts Cinderella has been given, but Rosalie is always present when it happens, and at the end of the film, she flies out to guide the Prince back to the estate so he may find Cinderella. She remains a somewhat intangible presence who poses more questions than will be answered, but there's undeniably magic happening, and the owl gives Significant Looks(TM). She's something like a Fae or a sprite whose true form we may have never seen, and that's lovely.

Cinderella's entrance at the ball: ...well, she doesn't do the staircase entrance here, either. That's because the big staircase is on the outside of the castle in the snow, and going in takes an act of bravery as Cinderella is fighting with nervosity after having seen the Prince dance with her stepsister through the window (little does she know, this dance steeled the Prince's resolve not to marry because Dora has never even heard of subtlety and he likes bantering better than being hunted down). So while Cinderella's appearance hushes the guests because, wow, beautiful lady coming in late, the famous staircase has a very different meaning for her - it's not for her presentation to the ball, but an obstacle to overcome on her own before she's ready to face the ball. And here's where we get back to originality: The Prince is the one who doesn't even notice her at first, even when every other person in the ballroom is either dying of envy or of insta-crush. He's having a spat with his parents and is rushing out - when Cinderella gets proactive again and is all charms, "how nice of you to come to meet me :)" And the Prince, who has met her three times before in the forest, not recognizing her here because veil and also perhaps magic, is like: "Sure, sweet, let's dance!" because, as a lovely friend described him, he's dumb of ass, bi of sexual. (There was already significant chemistry between them when Cinderella was dressed up as a huntsman and wowed everyone with her shooting skills.) He feels like he knows her, probably because the banter is going so well, but he doesn't draw the line between the little snarker in rags and fur in the forest, the young huntsman, and the beautiful lady dancing with him and proving that she does indeed have excellent manners. Cinderella draws looks, yes, but she makes the scene her own by speaking up, by addressing the recipient of her affection and talking to him as they are wont to do.

The Prince and Her Relationship with Him: This is where it gets very important that they are already acquainted, because Cinderella gives him a little riddle, practically spelling out the connection between the "three people" he met. Nowadays, it is pretty much the norm that Cinderella and the Prince already know each other. I suspect because the Love At First Sight trope just doesn't hit so well anymore. Ever After builds their relationship before the ball, and so does 2015's Cinderella, and probably several more, but they build on them recognizing each other at the ball. Princey here doesn't because, as mentioned, he's stoopid. Or that veil is doing really good. What she's doing with that riddle is asking his acceptance - accept me as that snarky girl in the forest, accept me as someone who's fully capable of showing you up at your hunt, accept that I'm more than this pretty dress. Also, we got along rather well every time. Funny is, the scene at the ball does almost the opposite of what OP described about the Disney movie: Cinderella is not shown as rising above her station; everyone there assumes she is a princess. The king comments on her poise and ponders inviting her over for conversation immediately because she seems so highborn. She's not out of place there - she is welcomed as a lady of rank. And the Prince has no scruples whatsoever to propose on the spot, but Cinderella runs out on him as she realizes he hasn't made the connection. Having caught his eye is nice and all, but does he want all of her? That's what makes her doubt, and what makes her run. Luckily, he runs after her.

"Are you here to to bring me my shoe? ;)": Disclaimer, Cinderella's shoes in this movie are nice enough to look at, but fairly mundane. On the plus side, they were probably quite comfortable to dance in. You know the Cinderella drill, everyone trying the shoe on, it fitting no one because Libuše Šafránková was rather petite. Here's where her stepmother catches on, and realizes that if the Prince has already had the servants trying on the shoe, an orphaned stepdaughter won't deter him. So here, stepmother and stepsister Dora kidnap Cinderella and lock her into the pigeonry so she'll be out of the way. She also snatches away the shoe when the Prince refuses to propose to Dora (who's now wearing Cinderella's cloak and veil in which she fled from the ball) without her trying it on first, we get a pursuit on horseback, it's a whole thing. And then cue the owl and the Prince, having found out about stepmother's attempt to deceive him, returns to the family's estate where Cinderella by now has gotten free. We don't know how; I think it was Rosalie again. That owl Knows Stuff. And Cinderella has one of her magic hazelnuts left, and when she breaks it open, it reveals a bridal gown. Cinderella is absolutely giddy at it because, lest we forget, she is very much in love with Princey over there, but then. She's out of helplessness, she's in a bridal gown, and she rides out into the courtyard to meet him and is like: "Oh, bringing me my shoe?" And she's all smiles, and he finally finds his braincell, and it's all happiness. Her sheer, delicious confidence of riding up to the Prince in a bridal gown. And it's not unjustified cockiness either; he repeats his proposal then and there, this time with all the information. And this time, she accepts.

I think this movie may not stand out anymore now as it did in 1973 when it was new - it's not a hot take anymore to give Cinderella some spunk; the American audience knows and loves (rightfully so) Ever After's Danielle. But it was something else that Cinderella builds her relationship with her Prince because they both enjoy a good banter and because he is charmed by someone who can very much keep up with and even surpass him in some areas, and it still isn't the standard formula for her to be brimming with confidence, to take every step of the way by her own choosing - going to meet the Prince again after their first meeting ended in her calling him a dumbass and running off, calling up the Prince's attention at the ball, claiming the shoe as her own. I realize that my description makes her sound rather hardened in comparison to Disney's Cinderella, but her life has been hard; it makes sense that this would have shaped her behavior and worldview. And more importantly, it hasn't made her a harsh person. She experiences and acknowledges cruelty, and yet she chooses to be kind. She may get her snark in, but she is geniune in her love and joy. And finally, just the biggest thanks to Libuše Šafránková for giving us this wonderful character in this wonderful movie. Our queen shall be remembered.

Disney's unconventional "Cinderella" (1950) (long)

Having watched most of the many adaptations of Cinderella, I've come to realize what a unique adaptation Disney's 1950 animated classic really is. Unlike Snow White, which only had a few stage and screen adaptations before Disney produced its groundbreaking film, Cinderella had already been adapted many times before Disney's turn came, and Disney's version makes a surprising number of departures from the standard Cinderella "formula." It was definitely a fresh, creative Cinderella when it made its debut, and it arguably still is. Yet because it's become so familiar in pop culture, and today so often serves as our childhood introduction to the tale, it's easy to overlook its inventive storytelling choices. The 2015 live action remake uses several classic Cinderella adaptation tropes that the original 1950 film actually subverts!

Here's a list of the often-overlooked ways in which Disney's Cinderella stands out from earlier adaptations, and from many later ones too.

Cinderella herself. Disney's Cinderella isn't a traditional Cinderella in personality. The "traditional" portrayal of Cinderella, seen in virtually every adaptation before Disney's and several afterwards too, is the portrayal I call "The Waif": a very young, fragile, melancholy girl, dressed in pathetic rags and smudged with ashes, who makes the audience want to rescue her and who wins the Prince's heart with her wide-eyed innocence and artless charm. But whether chiefly to set her apart from earlier screen Cinderellas or from Disney's earlier delicate ingenue Snow White, Disney's Cinderella is none of those things. She comes across as older, or at least more sophisticated. Nor is she waif-like, but instead combines down-to-earth warmth with ladylike dignity, even at her lowliest. She doesn't sit in the ashes ("Cinderella" is her real name in this version), and her servants' dress is humble yet clean and only slightly tattered. She's gentle and kind, yes, but also intelligent, practical, playful, sometimes sarcastic, philosophical, optimistic, genuinely cheerful when she's with her animal friends, and yet angrier and stronger-willed than virtually all earlier Cinderellas. She doesn't beg to go to the ball, but asserts her right to go, and then sets to work fixing up an old dress of her mother's for herself. Only her stepfamily's sabotage, first by keeping her too busy to finish the dress, and then by destroying it after the mice and birds finish it for her, prevents her from taking herself to the ball without a Fairy Godmother. To this day, she stands out as a complex, unique Cinderella, which pop culture too often forgets.

Lady Tremaine. Some critics today complain that Disney makes Cinderella's stepmother a total monster instead of giving her "nuance" and call her portrayal "sexist." But can't we agree that her sheer cruelty enhances the film's dramatic power? And compared to earlier portrayals of Cinderella's Stepmother, it definitely makes her stand out. In most pre-Disney Cinderellas and many after, the Stepmother is a pompous, vain comic antagonist. Once again, Disney was innovative by portraying Lady Tremaine as a dignified, manipulative, and truly sinister villain, who takes quietly sadistic pleasure in abusing Cinderella and will stop at nothing to prevent her from going to the ball or marrying the Prince. As far as I know, she's also the first Stepmother to realize before the slipper-fitting that Cinderella was the lady at the ball and to take action to prevent her from being found. That's a commonplace plot device in more recent adaptations, but in 1950 it was a creative twist!

The mice and other animals. Viewers debate whether Cinderella's mouse friends, Jaq, Gus, et al, and their misadventures evading Lucifer the Cat are a welcome addition or take away too much screen time from Cinderella herself. But there's no denying that the presence of the mice and birds is an inventive storytelling choice, which makes Disney's Cinderella stand out! And I can provide a long list of reasons why they're more than just "filler." (1) They add liveliness, humor, and appeal for younger children. (2) They gave the animators an outlet for the type of character animation they did best, rather than binding them to the harder work of animating realistic humans. (3) They give Cinderella someone to talk to besides her stepfamily. (4) They give her a way to demonstrate her kindness. (5) The struggles of the mice with Lucifer parallel Cinderella's abuse by her stepfamily, and Cinderella's undying optimism not only keeps her from despair, but inspires them too. (6) They arguably provide a further reason why Cinderella stays with her stepfamily – not only does she have nowhere to go, but an entire community of small sentient creatures relies on her for food and protection. (7) They reward Cinderella for her kindness. From the start, her friendship with the mice and birds makes her life easier to bear, both by easing her loneliness and because they do helpful deeds for her, like mending and cleaning her clothes. They fix up her mother's dress for her to wear to the ball – only the stepfamily's last-minute cruelty requires the Fairy Godmother to step in. And in the end, they're directly responsible for Cinderella's happy ending by freeing her from her locked room. They do all these things because Cinderella has protected them, fed them, made them clothes, and been their friend. Therefore, Cinderella's good fortune never feels "just handed" to her: her kindness directly earns it.

The Fairy Godmother. It's always varied between illustrators whether Cinderella's Fairy Godmother is portrayed as a grandmotherly old woman or as youthful, regal, and beautiful, but screen and stage adaptations before the Disney version virtually always took the "youthful, regal, beautiful" approach. That is, when they didn't change her into a wise, fatherly male magician-advisor, as in several opera adaptations! At any rate, seriousness and dignity were the norm for this character in most adaptations from the 19th century through the 1940s. Making her a sweet, comforting, grandmotherly figure, with a comically and adorably absent mind, was another of Disney's fresh choices.

Cinderella's entrance at the ball. We all know the classic image of Cinderella's entrance from other adaptations. Cinderella appears at the top of the grand staircase that leads down to the ballroom, and a hush falls over the assembly, as not only the Prince, but all the guests and members of the court are amazed by the unknown lady's beauty and magnificent dress. Even in versions without a staircase, Cinderella captivates the room the moment she enters. Adaptations both before and after Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 live action remake, play her entrance this way. But the 1950 animated classic subverts it! The grand staircase leads up to the ballroom, not down to it, and Cinderella's entrance isn't a triumph at first, but a vulnerable moment as she makes her way up the stairs alone, dwarfed by the splendor around her. Then, when she reaches the ballroom, no one notices her at first, because the other ladies are being presented to the Prince and all eyes are on him. But then the Prince notices her in the shadowy background as she quietly marvels at her surroundings, and leaves his post to approach her and invite her to dance. Only then does the rest of the assembly notice her, because she's the one the Prince has singled out. It's more understated and it feels more realistic than the traditional entrance, as well as more clearly symbolic of Cinderella's venturing above her station, then both literally and figuratively being led out of the shadows by the Prince's unexpected attention.

The slipper-fitting plan. Over the years, it's been fairly popular to mock the idea of using the glass slipper to find the Prince's love, as if there were no chance it would fit anyone else. Disney's version is creative by having the slipper-fitting search be the comical, hot-blooded King's idea, not the Prince's, and making it clear that it's not, nor is it meant to be, a foolproof plan to find Cinderella. The Duke points out that the slipper could fit any number of girls, but the King doesn't care if they find the right girl or not: he just wants to hold his son to his pledge to marry "the girl who fits this slipper" and force him to marry the first one who fits it. This also means that Disney doesn't do what most adaptations do and have the Prince conduct the search himself, but follows the original Perrault tale by having a gentleman, in this case the Grand Duke, do it instead. This prevents audiences from mocking the Prince for relying on the slipper instead of knowing his beloved's face.

Cinderella breaking free and asking to try on the slipper. Even though in Perrault's original tale, Cinderella asks to try on the slipper, she almost never does in adaptations. In most versions other than Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 remake, Cinderella's presence in the house (and/or the fact that she has the other slipper) is either discovered by accident or revealed by Cinderella's allies, not by Cinderella's own initiative. In some versions, she even tries to hide from the Prince and/or the search party, either out of fear of her stepfamily or because she feels unworthy of the Prince in her rags. But not Disney's animated Cinderella! First of all, she has an assertive emotional breakthrough when she calls on her dog Bruno to chase Lucifer away and free Gus to slip her the key to her locked room. Earlier on, she urges Bruno to try to get along with Lucifer, lest the stepfamily not allow him to sleep in the house – it's clear that Bruno represents her own rebellious side, and in that scene she's really talking about herself, revealing that she tolerates her stepfamily's abuse so she won't lose her own "nice warm bed" and be homeless. But in the climactic scene, when she finally sees a way out, she gives up playing nice and seizes her chance. First she unleashes Bruno on Lucifer, and then she runs downstairs and directly asks to try on the slipper, not caring how her stepfamily will react, or what the Grand Duke will think of her shabby dress, or whether the audience will accuse her of gold-digging or not. This isn't a common breakthrough in other Cinderella adaptations, but it fits perfectly (like a glass slipper, you might say) with the Disney Cinderella's stronger-willed and more self-assured characterization.

"I have the other slipper." We can probably all safely assume that when audiences first saw Disney's Cinderella in 1950, they all expected Cinderella to try on the glass slipper she lost, with her identity revealed by its perfect fit. They never would have expected Lady Tremaine to trip the footman and break the glass slipper... only for Cinderella to calmly reveal that she has the other one. It's yet another clever and unexpected twist, not seen in any other version. Not even Disney's own 2015 remake.

Disney's Cinderella deserves far more credit than it gets for being unique among the myriad versions of the tale, especially compared to the versions that came before it.

#oh god how much blahblah I can get into one post #probably still forgot half of what's important ah well #anyway #Cinderella #Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel #I swear this movie tread out almost all of the footprints Ever After stepped in 25 years later

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