Showing posts with label maxym martineau. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maxym martineau. Show all posts

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Rewriting The Little Mermaid (AKA Giving Women a Voice)

 By Maxym M. Martineau


There’s been a lot in the news lately surrounding the casting choice of Halle Bailey as Ariel in Disney’s upcoming, live-action remake of The Little Mermaid. Let me be clear: this article is NOT about that. (For the record, I’m 1,000% in support of Halle playing Ariel. I’m also here for either Lizzo or Tituss as Ursula.) I was asked to write a guest post picking an old fairy tale that I’d love to rewrite, and truthfully, that has always been The Little Mermaid for me.

Disney’s The Little Mermaid


I’ll be honest, my desire to rewrite this tale stemmed from the 1989 animated Disney version I first saw as a child. I can’t remember if I loved it or not as a kid (I probably did, given I was a competitive swimmer for 15 years and constantly in the pool, dreaming of having fins). I know I didn’t have an Ariel doll. I know I didn’t identify with her (I always felt more like a Belle). And as I grew up and rewatched the film, I disliked it more and more. It wasn’t the hidden phalluses dotting the landscape (I’m a romance writer, if anything, I find that funny). It was the way Ariel found love.

I have a whole slew of FEELINGS about Ariel having to give up her home, her life, in order to fully accommodate that of her lover’s. There’s never a moment where she wonders if Prince Eric would come to her. There’s never a thought of compromise, of the potential where he could grow a sparkly tail and join her world. The immediate, knee-jerk solution is for her to give up everything that made her, her, and abandon the uniqueness of her identity to fit into the mold of Eric’s society.

But let’s pretend for a moment that that’s okay. That yeah, she’s a freaking mermaid, and she physically can’t live on land and he can’t grow gills, so the only option for her to experience true love (which, bigger issue, she’s never even talked to the guy at this point and is willing to throw EVERYTHING away for him) is to become a human via a spell from the sea witch. As a romance author/reader, I can understand the central theme to sacrifice for love (it should be from both parties, but I digress).

No, for me, the biggest and most unsettling issue is that Ariel literally gives up her voice in exchange for the chance to fall in love with a man she doesn’t know.

Her voice.

Her ability to speak. To articulate thoughts and feelings. To stand up for herself. (Quick disclaimer: this is not to say that those who are mute are incapable of expressing themselves. They can, and should, be seen/heard and respected. This is simply a breakdown of the events that transpire in Disney’s The Little Mermaid and my interpretation of what Ariel willing gives up for a man.)

By giving up her voice, Ariel is perpetuating the theme that women should be seen, not heard. That our thoughts don’t matter. That we are meant to fall in line behind men and quietly accept their decisions without ever providing our opinions. This. Is. Dangerous. I mean, just listen to Ursula’s “Poor Unfortunate Souls” when she tries to convince Ariel to give up her voice:

“The men up there don't like a lot of blabber
They think a girl who gossips is a bore
Yet on land it's much preferred for ladies not to say a word
And after all dear, what is idle babble for?
Come on, they're not all that impressed with conversation
True gentlemen avoid it when they can
But they dote and swoon and fawn
On a lady who's withdrawn
It's she who holds her tongue who gets a man…”

What in the actual flying eff. No less, this convinces Ariel to go through with the exchange. Girl. I don’t even have words.

Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid



Knowing that Disney’s rendition was loosely based on Hans Christian Andersen’s work, I decided to read the original for comparative reasons. And yes, in both versions, the mermaid (we’ll call her that since she’s never named) sacrifices her voice for the chance of love. However, I think there is one vital and very important difference that completely and entirely changes the tone of Andersen’s story: the mermaid does so out of a longing to acquire an immortal soul.

Let’s review this passage between the mermaid and her grandmother, who is telling her all about the human soul and immortality:

“‘... We [mermaids] sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here, we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has turned to dust.’”

Grandmother goes on to discuss the kingdom of heaven, and how does the mermaid respond? As one might who just discovered there is nothing for her beyond her limited existence:

“... ‘I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars.’”

So while her initial interest in becoming a human and leaving her kind is certainly sparked by a handsome young prince whom she saved from drowning (that’s the same), it becomes something so much deeper, so much more profound, that I’m less annoyed when she willingly sacrifices her voice to the sea witch for a chance at immortality.

In defense of the sea witch, it’s the necessary price to pay because of who the mermaid is—the mermaid’s greatest gift, her voice, in exchange for the greatest possible outcome, an immortal soul. When you’re the loveliest singer in the sea, I suppose that’s a fair asking price. Oh, and for kicks, every time the mermaid moves on land—i.e., walks, runs, dances, basically does anything on her feet—she’ll feel intense pain like knives or swords. Because what childhood fairy tale isn’t terrifying in one way or another?

All that aside, she still needs to “win” her immortality, so to speak. It’s only granted to a mermaid who can get a human to love her with his “whole soul” so that she in turn will gain a soul of her own (without stealing the man’s soul, so little risk for the man in this situation, go figure). And while it’s not crystal clear, I believe the only reason she is forced to give up her voice is because of its power (i.e., a terrible singer would sacrifice something else in exchange for this opportunity, because her voice isn’t as valuable). Either way, a voice is still inherently powerful, in my opinion. Oh, and no lovely spell, either—the witch literally cut out the mermaid’s tongue.

Now, spoiler alert: I’m going to tell you the end of the book. There’s no way around it. I apologize in advance.

The prince doesn’t fall in love with her. Instead, he falls in love with the maiden who “rescued” him from his near-drowning experience (which should be the mermaid, but as she can’t tell him this, she’s SOL). To him, it’s the first woman he saw when he awoke, who later turns out to be a princess. (Of course. Good for him.) And while he permits the mermaid to live in his castle and dotes on her, he never loves her that way. (Even though he kisses her. Jerk.)

Anyway, cut to the morning after the prince marries, the mermaid is about to die (since she couldn’t get him to fall in love with her) and she’s facing a life of nothingness. She has the opportunity, through the sacrifice of her sisters (who only had to give up their hair while bargaining with the sea witch to fashion a special blade), to kill the prince and cause her legs to change back to fins, at least granting her remaining years as a mermaid with her family. Of course, because she’s selfless and still loves him, she tosses the blade aside and dives into the ocean to die.

And she does. Sort of. She becomes this last-minute daughter of air being that apparently, after 300 years of good deeds, can gain an immortal soul and go to the heavens. So she’s happy and the story ends.

Andersen Wins



So, how does that make me feel? Well. Better than the Disney version, but also still mildly peeved her voice was sacrificed for a chance at love (though again, slightly less irritated because of the immortal soul factor). And yet… I love that she finds her own happiness, despite the fact it requires her to die, that isn’t dependent on a man who treated her like a child, never returned her affections, and basically cast her aside the moment he found his true love.

I also can’t help but think Ariel from Disney’s version would’ve been SO much more relatable to me if this other, more important factor (immortality) was woven into the plotline. Who wants to turn into sea foam and cease to exist when there’s an opportunity for forever somewhere else?

If it were me rewriting the piece, I’d steer clear of the voice sacrifice all around. I just think that we, as women, have had our voices squandered so much that re-popularizing this idea with a remake, one we know children will flock to, is potentially harmful. The act of the mermaid sacrificing her voice is much more meaningful and powerful in Andersen’s version, so I guess if it’s “needed” for the sake of the story, then honor the original.

To put it plainly, I’d hone in on the mermaid herself and why she’s sacrificing her voice (i.e., the notion of equal payment in exchange for the wish granting) and amp up the costs for anyone else who deals with the witch to reiterate that fact (i.e., maybe her sisters could’ve lost something MORE significant than their hair when attempting to save her life). Hopefully, that would alleviate some of my distaste for the story.




About the Guest Author:  Maxym M. Martineau


Maxym M. Martineau is a staff writer and editor by day, and a fantasy romance author by night. When she’s not getting heated over broken hearts, she enjoys playing video games, sipping a well-made margarita, binge-watching television shows, competing in just about any sport, and of course, reading.

Following her passion, Maxym earned her bachelor’s degree in English Literature from Arizona State University. She is represented by Cate Hart of Harvey Klinger Literary Agency. Her debut, Kingdom of Exiles, is out now.

Wednesday, December 19, 2018

Grabby-hands about these 2019 releases

Mostly what I'm looking forward to in 2019 is it not being 2018 anymore. This was a blegh year for me all around, and I am ready to move on.

Looking at these particular things to help with that:

Anthem (video game) should have a demo ready for public consumption on February 1, 2019. I'm excited about this game because the dev studio produced Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars: The Old Republic, and DragonAge, but somewhat less jazzed because this one is looking more combat-centered than story-centered (and also, you can't romance your NPCs the way you could in other BioWare games... booo). So, basically, it's another game chiefly for dudes who enjoy killing their friends. Because they don't have enough entertainment options already. Still, it's BioWare, and their storytelling in the past has been top-notch. I'll give it a shot.

Battle Angel (movie) is coming to theaters for Valentines: February 14, 2019. What happens when you add one part "damn, that was a fun anime," two parts badass director and producer, and cyborgs (transhumanism, for the win), and mix it all together? Dunno, but what a date movie! (pleasedon'tsuckpleasedon'tsuckpleasedon'tsuck.)  Trailer.

Avengers: Endgame (movie) is coming April 26, 2019. "Part of the journey is the end." Yes, I have some theories of how we're gonna fix that snap at the end of Infinity War. The lump is already forming in my throat. Trailer.

Game of Thrones (TV show; HBO) final season begins April, 2019. Winter has come. Let's end this. I have no hope that the book will ever get done, so watching the thing is the next best option. I'm all for Lady Lyanna Mormont taking them all out and sitting her sassy self on the throne. Bring it, Little Queen.

Stranger Things (TV show; Netflix) season 3 is supposed to come out sometime in Summer 2019. I wish they'd be a teensy bit more specific. Vacations to book and camps to register for, you know. Gotta start planning the binge early.

Star Wars: Episode IX (movie) arriving in theaters December 20, 2019. Always my princess, may they not screw up your legacy.

And books? SO MANY. But especially these two debuts:

Jen DeLuca's Well Met (preorderable now, releasing September 3, 2019), which, even though it's not SFF, is set in a Renaissance Faire, which might feel familiar to a lot of folks who live/write/breathe fantasy. Lots of fun Shakespeare jokes and kilts and  jousting and pirates and discussions of how difficult it is to breathe in a corset. I have gotten a peek at this book, and it is so lovely, you guys.

Also, Maxym Martineau's Kingdom of Exiles (releasing June 25, 2019), a fantasy romance billed as Assassin's Creed meets Fantastic Beasts. Yaaasss.

So what about you? Tell me what is guaranteed to make 2019 better than 2018.