It’s tough to be a chicken. Or maybe that was just a tough chicken.
The Tale Of The Fox (1930?) is a somewhat whimsical, somewhat grim exploration of the animal kingdom of King Noble, a Lion, as taken from the stories of Reynard the Fox. The key feature, I think, is that while the characters are intelligent animals that retain their basic dietary and behavioral natures, they occupy human roles: ruling nobility, the craft class, clerics, etc.
And the primary point comes when King Noble, in frustration with the antics of Reynard the Fox, sets forth the absurd rule that animals must not kill and eat each other, except the King gets a couple of exceptions. While Reynard’s behavior may be almost ridiculously clever, in the end he’s only trying to feed his family.
So now what is he, and the rest of the carnivores of the kingdom, to do? Well, the chickens take it in the shorts.
The King shows his loyalty to his subjects, or maybe to himself, when Reynard is revealed to be responsible for the death of a chicken, and is sentenced to death. Reynard doesn’t hang around, but slips the noose and makes a run for his castle.
Foxes have castles?
Once there, he employs various tricks to defeat the King’s Army, eventually leading to the King leaving the field of battle, blaming the Cock for a betrayal and thus excusing the King from prosecuting his war vow; soon, Reynard goes from imperilment to the King’s top minister.
And there we have the story of what happens when absolute monarchs make absolutely nutty rules: chaos. Only when all sides participate, in this case by Reynard becoming an advisor while representing the people of the kingdom, will prosperity be possible.
Unless you’re a chicken.
It’s a good lesson for today’s America, which has retreated to the fantasy that arrogant leaders are better than leaders that compromise and admit that they may not know the best way forward; instead, the self-regarding wannabe rulers make up edicts without consultation with others or even with reality (abortion, transgenderism), while ginning up gods of the mystical or scientific sorts from their imaginations in order to grasp after legitimization and not engage with Americans who just might disagree with them. It’s a horror show driven by arrogance that should shame them, but won’t: the leaders benefiting their egos will never admit error.
Ahem. Sorry ’bout that.
But this movie is also interesting, even fascinating, because it is a very early example of stop-action. The creators of the movie were also developers of the art, and if the characters aren’t always as engaging as those of, say, Aardman Animations, they do have quirky charm of their own.
But can you cheer on Reynard, who is, after all, eating his fellow citizens? It’s really a serious question. It’s why I’ve never watched The Lion King: it is implicitly ridiculous.
But The Tale of the Fox tackles that problem head on.
