Ode to Disney

I am a child of Disney’s sort of “Renaissance,” the time of Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, Pocahantus, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hercules, and a few others. These tales of true love, adventure, and overall happiness are a part of many children’s lives, but for me they were, and still are, much more. Whenever I am depressed, which lately I find is very frequently, I know I can always seek solace in a red-headed mermaid swimming beneath the sea or an ambitious Arabian peasant soaring on his magic carpet.

A main part of this, I think, is the fact that Disney movies (the old ones at least) are actually good movies. As a girl of almost sixteen, I can appreciate them as actual works of art. They are well made, with spectacular animation, award-winning songs, magical plots, and lovable characters. There is a Disney princess, prince, or even creature to which everyone can relate. Rebellious teens can find common ground with the spirited and adventurous Ariel, while others see themselves in the quiet, intelligent Belle. Most young boys love the heroism of Hercules and the plight of Aladdin. Both of these characters, I might add, came up from almost nothing. This is a frequent occurrence in both American society and Disney movies, which I’m sure adds to their appeal.

Disney is escapism at it’s best. Whenever real life becomes too much to bear, one can pop in a Disney tape (for a real Disney child has the original VHS, not the DVD) and get lost in the impossible enchantment and epic romance of the movie. What makes them even more surreal and wonderful is the fact that they are animated, so when you watch them you feel as detached from reality as possible. When I’m watching these movies I do not have to think, I can just let them take me away into their world of magic and happiness. This sense of joy one gets from Disney is often addicting as well. In this way it is similar to a drug, but unlike a drug it brings genuine happiness and comes with no harmful side effects.

As a child I used to walk around pretending my life was a Disney movie. I would break out into song and dance (as the true Disney movies are musicals) whenever I felt the situation called for such theatrics. To be Disney royalty was my ultimate goal, so when my fifth Christmas brought me Belle’s ball gown I donned it majestically and sat on my father’s shoulders as one would sit upon a thrown, looking down haughtily at my many subjects. Now my uses for these movies are not quite so blatant. Through them I can experience things I know real life will never bring me. I can become a smart and brave Indian princess, an independent Arabian beauty, or a jaded Grecian woman countlessly rescued by a strong, handsome hero. I triumph from the success of Quasi-moto, the hunchback of Notre-Dame, and the ability of a beauty to love a beast. Most of all I can experience true love and know that there is always a kind and brave man to protect me.

Disney teaches humanity no actual lessons except for the benefit of being beautiful. However, it gives the world something so much better. For me, at least, it provides a healthy escape from troubles and a return to my imaginative, carefree childhood. There is nothing in true life that is better than in a Disney movie, at least nothing I’ve ever experienced. Disney will always be a place I can go to witness wonders beyond my imagination, and feel the comfort of a glass slipper that always fits.