The classic Shrek (2001) is a movie that explores the Other, the world traditionally outside of that circle of entities we call Us, and treats it as a community that, if exotic, is also shaped by the drives that we all feel – the need to belong, to be accepted, to have a role, and to be loved. Shrek explores these forces again and again in much the same way Lord Of The Rings[1] systematically explores the theme of temptation, if not so deeply.
Shrek the Ogre is easy to interpret as the arch-representative of the Other, ugly and reputed to grind men’s bones to make his bread. His life is one of exclusion and repulsion, and now he actively embraces it as an anti-identity, expecting exclusion, and excluding in turn, and puzzled when any creature fails to follow the script he has written for them.
Failing to follow that script is Donkey, the lens through which the audience is expected to observe Shrek. He is innocent of the world, voluble and without a secret to share, interacting with Shrek without reservation or horror. Relationships, friendly or adversarial, are the heart of ever story, and their relationship serves as the microscope through which we come to know Shrek.
Lord Farquaad, responsible for sending Shrek on his quest for a Princess to marry, is the representative of Us. We know this as he is at the top of the typical Western Dark Ages hierarchy, Lord of the land, human, and in command of a human guard and a human town – and is responsible for the eviction of magical creatures from “his” forest. In this rendition, the xenophobia of the Us versus Other traditional confrontation is brought to the fore early in the story, as he labels the undeniably cute and helpless (yet defiant) Gingerbread Man “… a monster!” Concomitant with this xenophobia is the self-importance and excessive self-esteem exhibited by a man convinced he is the center of the world, even if his physical stature militates against such a self-interpretation. His self-indulgence and concern only for himself completes a portrait of Us that is less than complimentary; it is an indictment of the nature of the xenophobic culture, in its fearfulness and inward turning.
And Princess Fiona is easily the transitional personage, caught between both worlds, and accepting of both. She struggles with this identity, her “curse” letting her be the bridge between the two.
So much for the lingerie present.
Donkey and Dragon’s interspecies romantic relationship, begun in the midst of the invasion of Dragon’s domain, explores how the perception of external differences can hinder and potentially destroy a valuable and mutually satisfying relationship. Only when Donkey, in the midst of self-pity for his loneliness, discovers the Dragon who came to love him is also mourning her loss of love, does he find it in himself to continue the relationship that offers so much, despite the challenges. While taking the time to explore more deeply this part of their relationship would have broken an important momentum in the story, it’s a pity this was not more deeply portrayed.
When it comes to Shrek and Princess Fiona, the importance of honest communication is explored. Before the catastrophic breakup, both have accepted the apparent hideousness of the other, and are willing to look beyond it. But their communications and knowledge of the other is imperfect, and Shrek’s impulsiveness and past history with humans leads him to improper conclusions; Fiona’s pride is stung, in turn, and she turns to Lord Farquaad as a more appropriate – and necessary – romantic choice.
But her relationship with Farquaad, as short as it is, is even more shallow, and when he discovers she has elements of the Other in her, his rejection of her, combined with his exultation of having obtained his selfish objective through his use and discard of her, results in her rejection of the worst of the Us culture. Importantly, though, the demonstration that two creatures of the Other culture can love each other, an important tradition in Western culture, permits the story to end peacefully, even joyfully.
And is this just a requirement of an animated movie of this sort? No. Underlying the entire story is the belief that, by accepting the Other, we can discover that beneath the skin, warts, wings, and magical capabilities, we are driven by the same needs and desires, and can connect and meld into one peaceful, prosperous community through those shared needs. Too often, xenophobia imparts strange and inscrutable properties to the Other, such as the appetites of the witch who catches and imprisons Hansel and Gretel, intending to eat them. Whatever for? Because their flesh is so tender and sweet? It’s still cannibalism, and impossible to understand in our culture. But love? That’s easy. If they can love, too, maybe they’re not so different.
And, finally, the connection to today is strengthened through one of the comedic devices – the insertion of anachronisms. From contemporary lyrics in the musical accompaniment, the appearance of various minor characters from fairy-tales mouthing lines having little to do with fairy-tales, to the mention of forcible relocations and other modern events, they serve to remind us of the connections between this story and the realities of today – and suggest how we might improve our world, not through fearful exclusion, but by welcoming the Other, and find them often, if not always, to be just like us.
Or if that just sounded like nonsense, I watched it because I enjoyed it and I wrote this review as a justification of spending my free time watching an old favorite.
1I suggest reading the Lord Of The Rings trilogy, rather than watching the movies, as the latter failed to recognize and explore the theme adequately. Instead, much like a former boss once observed, it was “… seven guys go out and kill as many monsters as they can.”
