As time goes on, there will always be one question that transcends, updating periodically for each new generation while ostensibly having the same outcome. Visiting the internet will quickly reveal how often it’s been asked, and odds are that it will outlive us all, being asked to the aliens when they excavate the Earth, parsing through the rubble to find the essence of humanity. As they pick up a magazine, they’ll flip to a page somewhere towards the back and look, puzzled, at what they discover:
What Disney Princess are you?
Everyone has their own different algorithm to finding the answer. After all, this is an arbitrary franchise that the universe has taken to embracing for over 80 years now. It used to be simpler when they had the more conventional, two-dimensional Snow White or Cinderella. Now, in 2020, the answer is like a mood ring that can alter based on the blood pressure in your finger. It’s why this question is evergreen. If you don’t have two or three, then odds are that you live a boring life.
For me personally, there are three that have withstood some test of time. They are the ones that make me understand the value of this question, of seeing some form of yourself in media. While there are movies I like more, that have better music and story, there is something about these individual characters that have helped me cope with some aspect of myself. The more that I try to understand why they are so appealing, the more that I understand their shared themes. Before I get to my ultimate pick, I thought I would share my runner-ups.
As someone born in 1989, I grew up in the ground zero of the Disney Renaissance, embarrassed with the riches of a studio in top form, pulling from various collaborators that brought out the best in their history. It’s a run that is unmatched, and I will admit a strong bias for this era just because of that. It’s the idea of watching those VHS tapes continually, getting immersed in these worlds every time. Sure, any animated movie was appealing to impressionable eyes, but the ones that you got to see in theaters were often better somehow. It was the ritual of seeing an image overwhelm your senses, surrounded by likeminded individuals.
I’m sure someone out there would say that Belle of Beauty and the Beast (1991) is on that list, but alas it’s not. I get that I should pick her because: A.) She’s brunette, and; B.) She reads books, but I’m not able to fully connect with her journey.
In recent years, I’ve sided more with The Little Mermaid (1989), which has a handful of double-whammies. The most noteworthy is that it has some of the studio’s best music, whose orchestral score hits an emotional sweet spot every time it swells. I believe in Ariel’s journey, much like I believe in Elsa* of Frozen (2013). To be honest, I think that where The Little Mermaid is a meticulous beauty, Frozen is a rushed anomaly that works in spite of feeling like so many corners were cut.
*I know, I know… Elsa is The Ice QUEEN, but how often will they be brought up?
Still, they speak to something in me that makes me wish that I could spend more hours with them. Not for a Disney story, but just to see them do menial tasks like fold laundry or ponder things about their life. I enjoy their existence, and I think that I’ve figured it out. It ties so personally to my identity that they accidentally fit a niche.
Basically, they have trouble communicating with the outside world. It’s been a personal, lifelong struggle for me to feel like I’m expressing myself properly to the outside world. Sure, I could say that all Disney Princesses do that, but some are more confident than others. When I look at Ariel, I see someone with so much passion but the inability to express it normally. When Ursula takes her voice, she needs to find new ways to say the simple things. I love her curiosity, the way that “Part of Your World” seems to jump from idea to idea as if she has ADHD. Similarly, Elsa is scared to express herself because of her hyper-sensitivity, the worry that she’ll upset those she loves most.
I think it comes with being autistic and finding conversations difficult. I stumble through words, sometimes making jokes that nobody picks up on. I got by on being the “weird” kid who randomly could enter a room without anyone noticing. There are various ways that I still feel like I’m disconnected from the world, very sensitive about being recognized. Elsa in particular feels groundbreaking in how she manages to reflect this in a reserved and quiet way, managing to be accepted for who she is. Her gifts are celebrated, and her insecure outbreaks feel genuine to someone overwhelmed by circumstances.
Which brings me to my top pick, the one who I latched onto 22 years ago in a theater and never let go. At the age of 9, as part of a summer camp program, we went to a theater in Paramount, CA and I remember feeling moved. I doubt that I could explain why Mulan (1998) felt like a significant moment in my life then, but it has never exactly gone away in the decades since. Whereas I can write-off every other Disney movie for one or two faults, it’s the one I’m most sensitive about.
At the core, Mulan is appealing in the same way that Ariel and Elsa are. It’s a longing for acceptance for your true identity and feeling like you’re just awkwardly trying to make it through your day. The truth is that I watch the “Bring Honor to Us All” sequence and I feel seen, of someone forced into a role of tradition that I’m clearly not designed for. It’s how she’s thrown into a Geisha dress, awkwardly shifting as her identity is hidden under layers of make-up and a gown that takes away her form. She sings out of time with the other girls, observing them for cues on how to walk properly. Even when greeting, she can’t do it correctly.
I’m sure at 9 there were other things that I was attracted to about the film. It was an action film with these massive sequences on mountaintops. Eddie Murphy’s Mushu was capable of lightening any tension. I think on some level, even the spirituality of ancestors spoke to my Catholicism, seeking guidance as I tried to figure out just what I was doing in this life. Maybe it goes back to the feeling of trying to please your parents, who you recognize sacrificing themselves for your betterment.
Though it grows more complicated when I stop and ask why Mulan as a character has never ceased to amaze me. Why is it in light of the Disney+ Premier Access debut of Mulan (2020) that I am giddy all over again, feeling like I have a chance to rediscover this character and give her new layers? There is just something to this character that hits an emotional sweet spot, and I feel at the end of the day all great art says something about yourself as it does its own story.
Nowhere is that clearer than with “My Reflection,” which remains one of the most sensitive film moments. I don’t share it much because of how vulnerable it makes me feel still. Whereas I can rally with everyone who thinks that “Make a Man Out Of You” is a great pump-up song, “My Reflection” is one that I want to keep to myself because, for those 20 years, it’s been the one clue to something bigger about why this movie works.
At the risk of seeming foolish or insensitive, I want to begin by saying that I dislike the Christina Aguilera cover. In general, I think she’s a decent singer. As I was reminded of her cover in a recent performance, I had that same hesitance to want to listen to it. This isn’t because it overwhelms my emotion. To me, it trivializes the intent of the song, overselling every note and trying to place emotion where there shouldn’t be any. It’s abundantly too much. I understand if you like it, but it actually takes away so much for me. Meanwhile, I think that “Loyal Brave and True” is pretty good.
The reason that I think that is not some retroactive Lea Salonga love that I’ve formed from Les Miserables and Miss Saigon. It’s genuinely because I see “My Reflection” as a quiet, internal song. It’s the type of song you sing when you’re alone, away from the world, and contemplating your own happiness. Nowhere is that truer than the opening that somehow has never lost its weight no matter how much I’ve heard it:
Look at me,
I may never pass for a perfect bride, or a perfect daughter.
Can it be,
I'm not meant to play this part?
Now I see, that if I were truly to be myself,
I would break my family's heart.
The whole piece is this incredible exploration of yourself, your disappointment in not being something that’s expected of you. As she looks into the shrine of her ancestors, she removes her make-up, revealing her true self and feeling judged, not totally comfortable with herself. Given that she will proceed to feel out of place later in the story by impersonating a man, it’s this feeling that no matter where she goes, she never quite belongs. She has to continue to prove herself, and it’s only when she’s truly herself that she becomes a hero.
I suppose it’s a literal depiction of feeling like you’re putting on a disguise simply to meet the standards of the world around you. While your soul is essentially the same, it’s the exterior that the world sees and judges you for. How do you make both mirror each other? “My Reflection” is like a prayer, needing to be soft-spoken and realize that nobody understands that struggle like you do.
Maybe I also like the action sequences or find the comedy and slapstick to be delightful. Most Disney movies also have that. And yet, Mulan endures because of how perfectly it reflects this awkward divide between the personal and the social, the feeling that you’re never enough. The insecurity around others is something that hasn’t really gone away for me, and this feeling that she eventually becomes accepted for herself is powerful. The fact that she even gets others to take her advice to defeat The Huns with feminine technique. As she comes home, she discovers that her family has always loved her and, you know what, it’s simple and beautiful.
It is why Mulan hasn’t been dismounted as my favorite Disney movie, only growing as I discover different things to love about it. The feeling of disconnect from others is something that I keep trying to defeat. At the end of the day, it isn’t because Mulan is a proverbial Tomboy or the action movie in the studio’s history. It’s because I recognize the conventions she’s shackled into and how difficult it is to conform. It’s the inability to feel like herself, going on a journey to understand what makes her personally happy, her own form of self-expression.
This isn’t to say that I like Mulan II (2003) or the unnecessariness of Wreck-It Ralph 2: Ralph Breaks the Internet (2018), but for this one film it felt like some greater revelation about myself was understood. It’s the one time that things became clearer about myself, and I can only hope that the remake continues to reflect a character who is confident in her actions, overcoming personal crises to become a hero to us all. I have faith that it will be, especially since early reviews were largely positive. If not, I will just go back to watching the original.
We all have reasons that we love these Disney Princesses, but few make as much sense as Mulan does when she wipes away the make-up, finding her soul bared for the first time. She knows what she looks like on the inside, but when will the world see it? I’m personally trying to reach that point, and it’ll feel less painful so long as I know that I have this movie to make me feel less alone about it.
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