Elves, princesses, fairy queens... Beginning with Disney in the early days, theaters were once fascinated by dreamy and colorful fairy tales. Just as the new Cinderella was about to be released, a friend named Michael Newton in the UK told us about some wonderful moments of magical movies, which we thought were really wonderful.
About 80 years ago, in a church in Kethness, Scotland, my mother watched her first film: Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), which had just been released. I once asked my mother how she felt. My mother replied to me, "You know, the movies of that era can't be compared to the movies of the present." But for me, that movie was already my fairytale kingdom. "Recently, my daughter also watched the same movie – her mind is full of beautiful princesses – and the charm of the movie has endured for a long time. Now, the image of the evil queen in the film has become the embodiment of horror; the demons and ghosts in the cartoon are hidden or locked in a storage room at the end of the attic, forcing the timid children to have to take a detour.
It is precisely in order to build a bridge between fantastic fairy tales and uneasy reality that a series of grand and spectacular fairy tale movies have emerged. The famous American animation master Walt Disney's "Snow White" and the follow-up film "Pinocchio" (1940) are the most gray and controversial works in the following 50 years. I understand my daughter's uneasiness: it also evokes my terrible memories of witches, such as Eucalypta, the witch of the British cartoon Paulus the Woodgnome. The famous British essayist Charles Lamb once said, "Fear comes from the self and is indelible." The turning point in the plot of Snow White: the dark and evil queen transforms into an old woman who delivers apples, which is far more terrifying than "Doctor Who". The queen is so obsessed with the pursuit of beauty. So much so that when we see the Queen asking the Witch for poison in order to kill Snow White, we also become frightened, and we are uneasy with the Queen's evil "giggling" and obscene laughter.
Disney was not the only one who put fairy tales on the silver screen, but the British fantasy film Baghdad (1940) by the famous Hungarian director Alexander Korda was also a classic of the year. When King Amai (starring John Justin) and princess (starring June Duprez) both fall in love, as many gentlemen and ladies experience at the romantic Kensington Ball. In order to save King Amai, the princess could only bear to submit to the evil adulterous minister Jaffa. "Take me away!" She groaned, her voice interspersed with a noble girl, fearless in the face of the blackmail of cunning bad guys, brave and strong determination.
Seventy-five years later, the film was adapted into a comedy of about two hours. To the average person, the ending is somewhat complicated and obscure, but american actor Rex Ingram interprets the spirit monsters in Arab mythology so vividly and interestingly. Not only does this go beyond Brian Blessed's version, but it also presents the character as mysterious and realistic – and when you watch his performance, you might really suspect that he has a special magic! Moreover, the adulterous minister Jafa, played by Conrad Veidt, is so emotionally delicate and powerful that people often praise it. In addition, the film's focus on the young "Great Thief" has aroused the reverie of countless fans for mythical stories - people always fantasize that people who are born humble can also go to a brilliant life. Sabu, the film's lead actor, perfectly interprets this idealism. He was the son of an elephant catcher in India, but was spotted on the street by documentary filmmaker Robert Flaherty and embarked on an acting career. Sometimes, movies are like fairy tales, with the magic of turning the ugly duckling into a white swan. The demeanor, humor and courage shown by Sab in the film, in the almost perfect curtain, highlights the ups and downs and excitement of the adventure process, just like the interpretation of the famous American adventure film "Little Devil Breaks the Sky".
Although movies are always inevitable with fight scenes, fights do not mean bloody horror. The blind leader, the mysterious jewelry, and the omniscient eye make Baghdad the Great Thief (Moon Palace Treasure Box) a popular fable about how the film takes the audience into the mystery of a fairy tale — how the film represents the theme from the perspective of God. At the beginning of the allegorical cartoon Beauty and the Beast, director Jean Cocteau seems to want audiences to watch the film with an innocent childlike heart. In the film The Great Thief of Baghdad (Moon Palace Treasure Box), the lead actor Sabu takes us into "a mysterious land", where everyone has a pair of children's eyes. Movies always want us to be innocent, and fulfillment always makes us doubt ourselves. The cruelty of life is that we can no longer choose simplicity, because simplicity and innocence can never be chosen. Choosing simplicity is itself detached from simplicity, which is a complex process in which we delude ourselves into planning to go to a world without a plan.
These films, especially for people who have long since left their childhood, are undoubtedly a reliving of childhood dreams. The magic they show on the screen is beyond the reach of our meager imaginations. In The Tree of Joyful Song (1957), there is a thorny fence that suddenly and suddenly greens in front of the princess; in Beauty and the Beast, there are statues suddenly resurrected in the forest villa of the beast; in Baghdad (Moon Palace Treasure Box), there are ghosts that rise from the bottles. They're even more unique than X-Men.
Fairy tale films rely more on the artistic charm of cinemas like magicians. That's why cartoons and puppet shows have become a unique category. The film itself constitutes a unique visual world, which is a poetic embodiment of the art of reality. In the film silhouettes of the federal republic of Germany's female director Lotte Reiniger, it is as if we can glimpse the dream country depicted by fairy tales in candlelight. The brilliant work of American puppet master Jim Henson, The Storyteller (1987-89), embodies the intersection of reality and imagination. Henson uses the mouth of voice actor John Hurt to give the furry puppets a quirky and funny sound. Let the audience feel the mysterious and ancient atmosphere in the same time and space.
However, there are also shadows of reality in the cartoons: "Beauty and the Beast" begins with a chattering argument; these films, although they take place in unreal countries, are always connected with real problems: the pain of losing a child, the pain of abandonment, and the desire for love. They have given us the spell that only through hardships and obstacles can we discover the true meaning of life. These truths cannot help but seem cheesy. The film's educational warning effect may also deprive it of a part of the young and freedom-loving audience, and their social didactic effect may also be fatal. For some, Beauty and the Beast is like a Stockholm Syndrome textbook: people complain that Beauty is just Lydia Hirst, while Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs are nothing more than a propaganda that young girls are better suited for housework. These complaints provoked the protests of many revisionists of fairy tales, who denounced the heroine of the story and blurred the line between good and evil.
Disney-produced movies, with the exception of Rapunzel and Frozen, don't have too many blockbusters. Their creativity is also their fatal mistake - to turn away real people, to match imagination but not to create round characters. While the best stories tend to use only the simplest characters, the plot development is naturally in-depth. Leaving aside Little Red Riding Hood (2011) and Hans and Gretay (Witch Hunter) (2013), The Sleeping Curse, starring the famous actress Angelina Jolie, is one example. Perhaps because of Julie's good public image, the producers wanted to change the "bad mother" impression in the audience's mind. This starting point is very novel, but this realistic film does not have the slightest ironic elements of fairy tales, which is a little embarrassing. To quote the famous British writer Dickens, it is "a bunch of impostors in a group of fairies". In contrast, the movie Snow White and the Huntsman is much better, with Bob Hoskins, Ian McShane and Ray Winstone vividly playing the london dwarf, and Oscar-winning actress Charlize Theron playing the vicious queen just right.
After that, Kenneth Bragnac's new version of Cinderella is much easier. It inherits the previous tradition and goes from simplicity to depth. The stepmother, played by Australian actor Cate Blanchett, is still the opposite, but the film tells us how the stepmother became evil. With his superb acting skills and hearty laughter, Blanchett proves to us the quality of the film. Director Branav has always believed that gold will always shine. There is a sparkle in everyone's body, and there have been actors who have proved this to us. It is difficult to make the film convincing, and it is not easy to perfectly explain the moral connotation of the film. "Have the courage to do better" is not a cliché, but a firm declaration.
On the surface, fairy tales are always full of charm, and in fairy tales there is no need to think about history. But for some, such a place does not exist. Fairy tales are but kingdoms that people build to escape reality. Many of the fairy tales of the 1950s and 1970s were created in communist Eastern Europe. One thing these films have in common is that the creations are done in a virtual historical context. Even so, it's hard to resist their magical appeal. The Czech republic's Tři oříšky pro Popelku (1973) happens to convey the heroine image that American cinema cannot express, and it transports us into a wonderful world of ice and snow, but so real.
For me, "The Singing Tree" has always haunted my childhood memories, and this is true for other children in the 70s. It presents us with an intoxicating world: in Green's Central European stage theatre perspective, the distant curtain depicts magnificent palaces, paper green leaves hanging from the branches, princes in suits... Swear by the oath, make a promise: If the king has the tree of joy, then I promise to be sincere; if he does not love, he will be committed to the forest bear; the king can keep the tree of joy, and must not be the first treasure. The story tells us that kindness is always better than cruelty, and gentleness is far more than cruelty. This is just one of the truths, and the film itself is much more than that. Beyond the lines are the images that will forever be etched in your mind—the little dwarves who have been demonized. What the story conveys to us is a kind of redemption, a kind of redemption through inner change and suffering.
Fairy tales are always both familiar and unfamiliar. It always casts magic on our childhood, just as it has left our childhood with longing and fear. The morality expressed in fairy tales may be somewhat outdated, and their manifestations may not be new, but they always have new ways of showing magic. It is the fairy tales that bind generations together, and our grandparents and children were fascinated by the same fairy tale. The fantasy kingdoms they present – once and for now – leave us with far more than myths and treasures. The great British writer Tolkien once wrote: The sun, moon, stars, falling leaves and flowing water, all sentient beings, with the world, immortal.