Snow White and the Marvel Reviews

Originally published August 27, 1993, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1032

A couple of things in today’s symposium:

For the first time in three years of my taking jabs at Marvel in this column, I’ve actually hit a topic that prompted Marvel reps to say, in essence, “Hey, we’d like to be heard on this.” Seems perfectly fair to me.

Tom DeFalco wishes the following to be known to all and sundry:

He flatly denies Don Thompson’s assertion that an edict came from himself, Terry Stewart, or anyone at Marvel, stating that Thompson is only to review Marvel titles if the reviews are positive. As far as DeFalco is concerned, “Once the comics are put out, they’re fair game.” So Tom is now, officially, on record as saying that Don is perfectly free to review whatever he wants, positive or negative.

However, DeFalco made no secret of his belief that Don has a personal grudge against Marvel that colors his perceptions of the titles.

Tom’s main bone of contention, and an incident that clearly still irks him to this day, was a review some time back in which Don went so far as to make comments about Marvel personnel having difficulties in personal relationships, and those difficulties allegedly guaranteed that Peter Parker and wife Mary Jane would be breaking up. By making such comments, Don violated his own rules about reviewing the work rather than those who produced it.

Tom freely admits that Marvel was so infuriated by this breech of etiquette that it subsequently pulled its advertising. “I don’t like people using reviews as platforms for making attacks of a personal nature on the creative personnel,” DeFalco now says.

The upshot was that Don, realizing he’d gone over the line, apologized in two separate issues. Marvel subsequently reinstated its advertising.

One might think that Don’s attempts to make amends might have smoothed over the hurt feelings. Still, one is put in mind of John Houseman’s Professor Kingsfield in the TV series Paper Chase, wherein he admonished a student who tried to “take back” an insult by thundering, “Nothing can ever be taken back. Everything is on the record. Always.” Once burned, twice shy, and DeFalco remains convinced that Thompson is biased.

None of which, however, translates into a fiat against negative reviews. And although Don himself was dropped from Marvel’s freebie list–along with several other Krause employees in, according to Tom, one of Marvel’s routine thinnings of the comp list–Krause Publications has continued to receive, uninterrupted, comp copies of every Marvel title. They are addressed to publisher Greg Loescher, who “can do whatever he wants with them,” says DeFalco. That includes making them available to Don for review purposes.

Which means that the ball is back in CBG‘s court.

Personally, I await further developments with keen interest.

*  *  *

I finally got around to seeing the Disney rerelease of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. (No, this isn’t a review; that would be somewhat pointless, I should think).

In a way, I was almost afraid to see it, because I was worried that my rather warped mind–which has become only more so in the years of writing this column–would see things that I hadn’t seen before. Kind of like the way I deconstructed the The Wizard of Oz several years back.

And I did notice a few things. One of them I really almost wish I hadn’t noticed, because frankly, it’s kind of disgusting. So I’ll do the more palatable stuff first.

1) Everyone knows that, ideally, a story should feature some sort of character arc. That the protagonist(s) should face some problem through the course of the story that changes them, and leaves them different at the end. If it doesn’t happen, or if it’s superficial (as with Jurassic Park) then it leaves the audience unsatisfied.

Yet Snow White has been captivating audiences for years, and because it’s “only” a fairy tale, it doesn’t seem to play by the same rules as standard drama. Snow herself spends most of the film waiting for her prince to show up, and he eventually does. The end. She’s exactly the same at the end of the film as she was at the beginning, with no effort expended on her part to bring this about other than cleaning house and sleeping.

Indeed, between the time she spends sleeping on the Dwarfs’s beds, and again upon eating the apple, I think she spends more storytime slumbering than Sleeping Beauty did.

(By the way, presuming this comes out before the San Diego Comic Con, ask animation writer Paul Dini to do his impression of Princess Jasmine singing “Some Day My Prince Will Come” with utter contempt and derision. Likewise his version of Cruella De Vil performing “Belle,” voice dripping disdain for the “poor provincial town.” It’s a hysterical bit that I copped–with Paul’s permission–for the Disney heroine roundtable some months back. But I digress…)

Prince Charming has no character arc. The Queen certainly doesn’t. And the vast majority of the Dwarfs don’t. Of the nine principal characters, only one is measurably different at the end than he is at the beginning, and yet it’s the most interesting character transition in the film: That of Grumpy.

When we first see him, the sawed-off misogynist is suspicious of women in general (“They’re full of wicked wiles!” he proclaims. Hëll, Grumpy probably invented the old tacky joke about not trusting anyone who could bleed for five days and not die) and Snow White in particular. He cuts her no slack, urging she be thrown out and rejecting every overture of hers.

Nor does he seem to warm up to her during the night’s festivities of singing and merrymaking (although he does display formidable musical skill; I mean, you try playing a pipe organ with your buttocks and see how well you do.)

But Snow calls in divine intervention as, in her nighttime prayers, she asks God to get Grumpy to like her. By next morning, her prayers seem answered. Of all the dwarfs, it is Grumpy who instructs her to keep the doors locked and not talk to strangers. Snow is thrilled that Grumpy actually seems concerned (so thrilled that apparently she allows the advice to pass right through her head, judging by what she does later.)

She then kisses him on the head, and this is the last straw. Grumpy is now squarely in Snow’s corner. So much so, in fact, that–and here’s where it really gets interesting–when the animals alert the dwarfs that Snow’s in danger, Grumpy assumes command. Doc, the nominal leader, completely freezes. “What do we do?!” he wails. It is Grumpy who leads the charge. And it doesn’t end at the cottage. When they go in pursuit of the crone Queen, Grumpy is still leading the way, taking the point, charging up the hill. Indeed, one would argue that the Queen got off lightly; her fate was as nothing as it might have been had Grumpy (and the other Dwarfs, their cheery expressions twisted in utter fury) caught up with her.

For that matter, when they think Snow White is dead, Grumpy is the one crying the most copiously. The others have tears running down their faces, but Grumpy is so overwrought that he turns his back to the camera and sobs profusely. What a turnaround.

When they think she’s dead.

Hmm.

We’ll get back to that later.

2) Is Dopey the most politically incorrect character in major motion picture animated history or what?

You literally could not do this character today. Could you imagine the reaction to a mute dwarf who would most likely be interpreted as a parody of the mentally handicapped/impaired/challenged/choose your own phrase that makes you comfortable?

I mean, mental health organizations went ballistic when a DC rep described Doomsday as an escapee from a cosmic nuthouse. Heck, you can go all the way back to Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles, where he received complaints from organizations in the belief that Mongo (Alex Karras) was so named to make fun of “mongoloids”… when, in fact, he was called that so that startled townspeople could see him coming and proclaim, “Mongo! Santa Maria!” (If you don’t get the joke, forget it.)

So what would they have made of (or done to) Dopey, I wonder, if the film were just coming out. Women’s organizations protesting Snow’s passivity would be crowded right off the front pages. There would be letter campaigns, pickets. You name it.

Furthermore, can you imagine if Walt Disney had gone with the suggestion (really, I swear it’s true) that Dopey star in the “Sorceror’s Apprentice” sequence in Fantasia. Ultimately he opted for Mickey Mouse, and the role revitalized Mickey’s sagging career, serving as the comeback vehicle that solidified him as superstar. If it had done that for Dopey instead of Mickey, then who knows? Dopey might have ended up as the corporate symbol and, being so high profile, might be the subject to all kinds of pressure to make him politically correct.

As it is, he only shows up in theaters every seven years or so, so Those Who Would Protect Us leave him alone. It also helps that he’s certainly the most engaging character in the film. He’s also responsible for my favorite moment in the movie–when he stands on one of his associate’s shoulders and dances with Snow White. Of course, he also supremely lived up to his name; choosing Sneezy, of all dwarfs, as his “lower half” was–to put it mildly–a major tactical error.

3) It amazes me how smoothly the animation styles blend in the film. Snow White is portrayed so realistically, and the Dwarfs are so cartoonish, that one would think they don’t even belong on the same screen. Yet it’s never disconcerting.

The only time it really jars for me is when Snow inspects their hands to see whether they’re clean or not. I keep waiting for her to say, “My God! You all have four fingers!” Perhaps she was just being polite.

4) Okay. This is the kinda gross part.

When the Queen crafts the poison apple, she presumes that the cure–to be awakened by “love’s first kiss”–is not a problem. After all, she reasons, the Dwarfs will think Snow is dead and bury her. This seems a fairly logical assumption.

But she did not reckon with… well, here is where it gets a little odd to me.

A text insert tells us that Snow was so beautiful “even in death,” that the Dwarfs could not stand to bury her. So they built her a glass coffin and put her in there.

Why?

I mean, they thought she was dead. This is not contested.

So why the glass coffin?

Isn’t that kinda… you know… sick?

Did they really think their sensibilities would be better served by putting her on view, in the middle of the forest, so they could watch her decompose?

Glass, all sides, so they wouldn’t miss a thing. What did they think was going to happen? These guys have lived in the forest. Certainly they must have stumbled over decaying animal bodies from time to time. They knew what to expect. The loss of body fluids, the rotting cadaver that she would inevitably become. Flies swarming, and the maggots, and… geez, is that truly how they wanted to remember her?

What was with those guys? One of ’em was called “Doc,” for heaven’s sake. Certainly if he had some sort of medical training, he should have warned them of the health risk–not to mention potential for inducing nausea–that this course would have had. (Unless he was “Doc” like “Doc” Gooden or something.)

We know the coffin wasn’t air-tight. We see them opening it (fairly easily) to put flowers on her.

The only other possibility that comes to mind was that they embalmed her. That sounds pleasant. So which one of them handled the evisceration? (“Yo, Dopey… over here a moment…”) Did they take the trough out back and fill it with salt for the immersion process? Did they fill her body cavities with—

No, I have to think they didn’t embalm her.

So they just left her to rot where everyone could see.

And who happened by?

Prince Charming.

This guy’s even sicker than the dwarfs.

He gets off his horse, walks up to what he believes to be a corpse… and kisses her.

Yuck.

This guy goes around smooching stiffs.

Is this something he does all the time? Is he some sort of necrophile? Does he kiss dead lips and then murmur, “Was it good for you, too?” For that matter, did he stop with the kiss only because the Dwarfs were standing around? Just how far does he go with this rather bizarre hobby of his?

Be certain to keep all these things in mind the next time you see the film.

Heigh ho Heigh ho…

(Peter David, writer of stuff, was mentioning disposal of dead bodies around eight-year-old Jenny, and he referred to “Cremation.” She wanted to know if that meant the body was covered with whipped cream, or perhaps turned into cream. Now there’s a grisly thought; if you thought that Soylent Green was unsettling, just imagine if Creamora came from…)