I suppose that the now classic animated Disney movies were to my generation what the Harry Potter movies have become for the current one, an entertaining method for teaching young children the value of friendship, love, loyalty, and love in a society where the primary emphasis is placed on ambition and success. I remember worshipping the spirited and courageous heroines of the Disney movies because each - Pocahontas, Mulan, Ariel, and Jasmine - valiantly fought for their beliefs and dreams. It didn’t hurt that they always discovered true love and a handsome man along the way. Though all of these female protagonists provided prime positive examples for my pre-K and kindergarten aged self, I particularly admired Belle from "Beauty and the Beast."
Despite being a Disney movie junky from an early age - I first saw "Aladdin" when I was three years old - and religiously watching each subsequent movie, first in the movie theater, and then repetitively at home, I did not discover my idol until what seemed to be many years later. Oh how quickly I deified her! I remember the excitement that permeated through me, the heady adrenalin rush that swamped my six year old mind as I feverishly bounded downstairs on that Christmas morning. I zoned in on the large pink box which dominated the center of my present pile, sparing nary a glance for the other presents, and prayed fervently that Santa had granted the wish that I had so carefully and secretively whispered in his ear at my parents’ company Christmas party. Scarcely daring to hope, I carefully opened the box and emitted a joyful shriek. He had!
I carefully drew the towel - that fluffy shining reflection of simple joy - which depicted that legendary scene from "Beauty and the Beast" in which Belle has finally fallen in love with the Beast, in spite of his hideousness, and in which he presents her with the rose that symbolizes his life and soul, and proudly displayed it for my parents and grandparents. My mother, capitalizing on my delight, used the moment to take a picture of me, for which I willingly posed. That towel must have been something special because I hated pictures and avoided them at all costs; I still do. I still have that picture, and every time I look at it I remember one of the isolated days on which I was truly and utterly contented. And it was all because of a towel which still sits in our hallway linen closet, a silent reminder of the power of love and courage.
I don’t really know why I felt such a strong connection to Belle. Perhaps it was because, like me, she possessed brunette hair and hazel eyes. Maybe it was her fondness for reading and good books that I too exhibited, even at that early age. In fact, one of my favorite moments from the movie occurs when she falls into a fountain while walking through town because she was too engrossed in her book. I still love her gentle, self-deprecating laugh when she realizes her predicament upon the transformation of her book into a meal for the sheep that also contributed to her tumble. However, I truly believe that I revered Belle above the other Disney “princesses” because she, unlike my timid and shy self, sacrificed her freedom for her father’s well-being and boldly stood up to the Beast’s fury, but eventually found the courage to forgive him and to give him her heart.
Despite being a Disney movie junky from an early age - I first saw "Aladdin" when I was three years old - and religiously watching each subsequent movie, first in the movie theater, and then repetitively at home, I did not discover my idol until what seemed to be many years later. Oh how quickly I deified her! I remember the excitement that permeated through me, the heady adrenalin rush that swamped my six year old mind as I feverishly bounded downstairs on that Christmas morning. I zoned in on the large pink box which dominated the center of my present pile, sparing nary a glance for the other presents, and prayed fervently that Santa had granted the wish that I had so carefully and secretively whispered in his ear at my parents’ company Christmas party. Scarcely daring to hope, I carefully opened the box and emitted a joyful shriek. He had!
I carefully drew the towel - that fluffy shining reflection of simple joy - which depicted that legendary scene from "Beauty and the Beast" in which Belle has finally fallen in love with the Beast, in spite of his hideousness, and in which he presents her with the rose that symbolizes his life and soul, and proudly displayed it for my parents and grandparents. My mother, capitalizing on my delight, used the moment to take a picture of me, for which I willingly posed. That towel must have been something special because I hated pictures and avoided them at all costs; I still do. I still have that picture, and every time I look at it I remember one of the isolated days on which I was truly and utterly contented. And it was all because of a towel which still sits in our hallway linen closet, a silent reminder of the power of love and courage.
I don’t really know why I felt such a strong connection to Belle. Perhaps it was because, like me, she possessed brunette hair and hazel eyes. Maybe it was her fondness for reading and good books that I too exhibited, even at that early age. In fact, one of my favorite moments from the movie occurs when she falls into a fountain while walking through town because she was too engrossed in her book. I still love her gentle, self-deprecating laugh when she realizes her predicament upon the transformation of her book into a meal for the sheep that also contributed to her tumble. However, I truly believe that I revered Belle above the other Disney “princesses” because she, unlike my timid and shy self, sacrificed her freedom for her father’s well-being and boldly stood up to the Beast’s fury, but eventually found the courage to forgive him and to give him her heart.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment