Why Frozen's Success Matters

Disney’s latest animated film Frozen has done very, very well. Not just better than analysts might have predicted, but record-breakingly well. It recently eclipsed Finding Nemo as the most profitable original (that is, a non-sequel) animated movie of all time, and with a sing-along version hitting theatres in the U.S. and home entertainment releases still to come, its success will only continue.

Frozen deserves its financial wins and many critical plaudits because it is a very good movie, made by passionate, talented people. But it is also an important movie, introducing audiences to a Disney unafraid to eschew old-fashioned ideals and present us with stories and characters more reflective of our reality, more pertinent to us, than anything made by the studio that preceded it.

The film is, in turn, the most subversive of Disney’s efforts and also one of its most traditional. It seduces us with familiar Disney fairy tale tropes before abruptly turning its focus away from young romantic love towards the deeper and more complicated bond shared by two sisters. When considering other animated features from big studios, perhaps only Pixar’s Up – with its story about a relationship between a widowed retiree and a young boy – eclipses it in courage to shy away from what is deemed to be universally marketable.

It seems that even Disney deemed Frozen’s story unmarketable – well, presumably to anyone but young girls – considering it wasn’t really marketed at all. The movie was sold to us in trailers and posters as an ambiguous concoction of non-descript human characters, loveable animals and hilarious sidekicks, with central focus placed on Olaf, the film’s companionable snowman.

Frozen is not, in fact, about the about the adventures of Olaf, although he is undoubtedly one of the film’s highlights. It is about Anna and Elsa, new, richly drawn female Disney characters who seem miles away from the demure cookie cut outs of many of their princess predecessors. Oh, and contrary to what we might have taken away from the trailer, they sing. A lot.

Like most girls on the verge of adulthood, Anna and Elsa are unsure of themselves, clumsy, scared, excitable, naïve, spontaneous, and dangerous with an adult power they’re not yet sure how to wield. This power is literally realised in older sister Elsa, who freezes everything she touches; a ‘curse’ so repellent to her that she suppresses it until it’s fit to burst.

This idea of ‘conceal, don’t feel’ – Elsa’s mantra and the hook on which much of the film’s music and lyrics hangs - is surely something we can all identify with, particularly during the chaotic period of adolescence. It is unsurprising that Elsa’s character has been read a million different ways by a million different critics, whether as a Christian metaphor for the flawed human race (forgiven by the faithful Anna, aka Jesus) or as a reflection of the experience of coming out; belted out, loud and proud, from the top of a mountain.

Younger sister Anna, on the other hand, is as open to life’s delights as Elsa is closed, possessing a mostly adorable joie de vivre. Anna is Disney’s first real goofy princess, satisfying her emotional needs with chocolate, shooting her mouth off inappropriately, clumsily falling over things in her enthusiasm; she would border on a Manic Pixie Dream Girl if she wasn’t far more assertive than that trope allows. Anna is impulsive, which leads her to make stupid mistakes, but she’s also brave, adventurous and strong.

There are of course men in Frozen too, but they are not there as the inevitable goal for the women to reach at the end. In a remarkable change of pace for Disney, stocky, sweet-natured Kristoff and smoothly charming Hans are not the solution to Anna and Elsa’s problems, or companions to ride off into the sunset with after brief, chaste love affairs.

It’s here that the film really parts ways with Disney’s traditional concerns. Frozen is about accepting oneself, warts and all (although I  do wish these girls looked a little more realistic and less like Bratz dolls), and in turn, learning to accept love from others. It shows little girls – and little boys I’m sure – that there isn’t a singular definition of ‘true love,’ that there can be more at the end of the movie than someone to sweep the heroine off her feet. In very simplistic, easy to understand terms, it stresses that it’s alright to be different, and that message is important, even if it sits imperfectly formed at the back of kids’ minds while they quote loveable Olaf verbatim for the rest of the year.

Interestingly, Frozen has continued to do well despite the now universal awareness that A: at its core it’s about two princesses and B: it’s a big ol' musical, aspects of the film quietly shunted from that original marketing campaign. Like Up before it, Frozen reminds us that ‘difficult sells’ make for some of the most interesting movies, and tell some of the most important truths.

Lucy O'Brien is Entertainment Editor at IGN AU. Follow her ramblings on IGN or Twitter.

Source : feeds[dot]ign[dot]com