Po the American Panda

Apparently Kung Fu Panda is considered a good movie. I don’t think my dad thought so as he grumbled as he walked out of the theater with my sister and I, at the time aged 9 and 7. But, probably to my dad’s surprise, not only was Kung Fu Panda very popular in the United States, it was also a big hit in China, which serves as the setting and aesthetic for the animated film. In addition to being set in China, the movie incorporates a lot traditional Chinese elements and symbols—Kung Fu and pandas, for example. Those familiar with the fiercely waged battles over cultural appropriation will be unsurprised to hear that this American-made movie using Chinese culture provoked controversy. “The movie is nearly perfect,” said Chinese director Lu Chuan, noting that the creators “showed a very sincere attitude about Chinese culture” (Lee). Taking a rather different standpoint, Chinese artist Zhao Bandi said the movie “twisted Chinese culture and served as a tool to kidnap the minds of the Chinese people” (Lam). So, which is it—dangerous cultural appropriation or sincere engagement with Chinese culture?

Of course, those responsible for the movie would say the latter. They called the film “a love letter to China” (Jörg & Zhao, 111). Many elements of the movie could plausibly point to that conclusion. Obviously the movie features a panda, the Chinese national symbol, and Kung Fu, which is an important part of China’s cultural history. The movie starts out with hand-drawn animations that closely mimic classic Chinese art and the scenery is filled with temples and other symbols that clearly let the viewer know that they are in China. Its cast includes Chinese American actors, as well as Jackie Chan, ever a feature of Kung Fu movies. In an effort to maintain authenticity in the fight scenes, the animators were given martial arts lessons (Chung). One Chinese academic, Bu Xiao-yan finds evidence to support the filmmakers’ claim, saying that the correct uses of Chinese words “spread the traditional Chinese specialties, symbols, values, and so forth, filling the movie with thick Chinese flavor” (Bu, 880).  Bu also talks about the oblique presence of Taoist and Confucian beliefs, along with the presence of traditional Chinese elements, such as noodles, sedan chairs, lanterns and acupuncture (Bu, 881). Realistically, the elements of Chinese culture in this movie are not much more than flavor and props.  The plot and characters reveal a very different perspective about the movie. Kung Fu Panda follows an overweight, immature, panda who, much to everyone’s surprise and dismay, is chosen to be the legendary Dragon Warrior. With the help of wise masters, he becomes a Kung Fu warrior, defeats an evil leopard, brings peace to the valley, and—of course—discovers that everyone is special and you just have to believe in yourself.  None of this is Chinese. In fact, it is distinctly not Chinese.

Take the main character, Po the panda. Voiced by Jack Black, Po is portrayed as fat and immature from the very start of the movie, where, upon waking up, he struggles to stand up. After achieving that task, he greets his action figures, bewildering his neighbors. He is living with his father, a goose, who expects him to take over the noodle shop, even though Po dreams of becoming a Kung Fu master. When he is accidentally chosen as the Dragon Warrior, he is ridiculed for his weight, clumsiness, and lack of hygiene. Eventually, he trains to become a master, but can only do so if he is incentivized by food. Jack Black essentially plays the same character in every movie he does. Kung Fu Panda is no different. Po is not differentiable from the unattractive, deadbeat, immature characters that Black is known for. Po and Black become “inseparable, if not identical, through the composite of sound and image” (Chung). Po’s facial expressions, body, and movements also mimic Black’s. These characteristics are quintessentially American. We Americans are known to be overweight, lazy, and consumptive—not to mention brash and, perhaps, immature—and Po clearly reflects that.

Po hungrily eyes dumplings

Before closely examining this movie, I imagined that the Kung Fu training would make Po somehow more Chinese. After the training montage, Po turns down the food that he has finally won through his hard work. Yet, his character never changes after that point, and in fact Po affirms his Americanness in the final fight scene. His opponent belittles him as “just a big fat panda,” and as he delivers the final blow, Po proclaims, “I’m not a big fat panda, I’m THE big fat panda” (Kung Fu Panda). This brash affirmation of self is not only an indication that Po retains his American qualities, but also an American act in it of itself. The US is not subtle about its patriotism, and Po’s affirmation of his American qualities (i.e. his weight) is evocative of that.

But, not only is the main character American: the film’s overall message of individualism is aggressively American as well. Po immediately stands out. He’s a panda with a goose for a father in a community that is almost exclusively comprised of pigs, bunnies, and geese. However, all of the other Kung Fu masters—and therefore main characters—are also the only example of their species represented in the movie. So the characters who stand out from the crowd are the heroes of the movie. But maybe that’s not convincing. The movie’s morals are more telling. Po begins the movie as a directionless fanboy who wanted he was someone else. When he is chosen as the Dragon Warrior, he worries that he’s inherently incapable of becoming a Kung Fu master—that he isn’t good enough. But (of course) he discovers something important: you just have to believe in yourself. When he receives the Dragon Scroll—thought to contain the secret to never-before-seen Kung Fu power—and finds that it is blank, everyone is confused and dismayed. Similarly, the Secret Ingredient to Po’s father’s Secret Ingredient Soup is (you guessed it) nothing. There is no special secret; every individual is special—you just have to believe in yourself. This is textbook American participation trophy culture. It’s part of an ideology that tells children, “You can grow up to be whatever you want” and, “we’re all winners!” Don’t believe it? Try googling “millennials individualism” and you’ll find a plethora of articles in The Atlantic and The New York Times decrying the end of the community and declaring millennials to be self-centered narcissists. Apparently our parents told us that we were special too frequently. Whether or not you believe the hype, individualism is certainly seen as an American value, particularly in contrast to stereotypes about the Chinese.  One of the main forms of Western, anti-Asian xenophobia is the notion of the yellow horde or yellow peril; Americans fear East Asians because of their sheer numbers. Central to the notion of the yellow horde is the image of the faceless masses taking over the world, which stands in contrast to the hyper-individualism of America. Generally, the Chinese are perceived to be more community and family oriented. In Chinese, the family name comes before the individual’s name, which represents the promotion of the group over the individual. So Kung Fu Panda’s morals are explicitly American. What do we make of the Chinese elements? As one academic who studies images of China in American film put it, “China is reduced to a series of visual motifs” while “at a still deeper level, America—at least American values and sensibilities—is felt at every turn” (Greene, 199). Though many elements are Chinese, they have been stripped of their true meanings and filled with American meanings. China is reduced to “a visual one-dimensional landscape that has severed all connections with a ‘real’ place or ‘real’ people” (Greene, 199).

Should we be alright with the fact that Chinese culture is stolen, reduced to scenery and subjected to American morals? Bu says yes. He says that Kung Fu Panda—neither totally Chinese nor totally American—is a “transcultural version” which “represents a unique way in which the world’s cultures are being hybridized to form what can be called a global culture” (884). He sees the movie as “a good way to spread traditional cultures and enhance effective exchanges with other cultures to reach a far better international cooperation and communication” (884). According to Bu, it’s “a win-win situation” (884). But this assumes that Kung Fu Panda treats both cultures equally. The film’s morals don’t reflect that. An already American character becomes more American. More importantly, Kung Fu Panda promotes American culture at the expense of Chinese culture. It superimposes American ideas onto important Chinese symbols. Though Chinese aspects are included, they are stripped of their meaning and subordinated for American ideals. This represents a form of cultural domination, which is literally sold back to the culture being dominated. These days, China is one of the major threats to American world influence an important. As many Americans fear economic dominance from China, it’s no surprise that American culture would push back and assert its supremacy. Though the filmmakers may have attempted to engage genuinely with Chinese culture, the end product reduces Chinese culture to props and symbols, and in doing so, asserts that American individualism is better than Chinese collectivism. They—very successfully— sold back a low-fat, lite, version of Chinese culture, which has been reduced to accommodate American individualism. So, good movie? Maybe—I’m sure Uncle Sam would love it.

 

This essay was read by Noah Nsangou, written in the style of Ellen Willis, and responds to prompt #3.

Works Cited

Bu, Xiao-yan. “An Intercultural Interpretation of Kung Fu Panda—From the Perspective of Transculturation.” Sino-US English Teaching 9.1 (2012): 878-85. David Publishing Company. Web. 18 May 2017.

 

Chung, Hye Jean. “Kung Fu Panda: animated animal bodies as layered sites of (trans)national identities.” Velvet Light Trap, no. 69, 2012, p. 27+. Academic OneFile, libraries.state.ma.us/login?gwurl=http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?p=AONE&sw=w&u=mlin_w_willcoll&v=2.1&it=r&id=GALE%7CA281175224&asid=80aa4c8984cb282d611bcdf3d7e5d891. Accessed 18 May 2017.

 

Greene, Naomi. From Fu Manchu to Kung Fu Panda: Images of China in American Film. Honolulu: U of Hawaiʻi Press, 2014. Print.

 

Huber, Jörg, and Chuan Zhao, eds. A New Thoughtfulness in Contemporary China: Critical Voices in Art and Aesthetics. Bielefeld: Transcript, 2011. Google Books. Google. Web. 18 May 2017.

 

Kung Fu Panda. Dir. Mark Osborne and John Stevenson. Perf. Jack Black, Angelina Jolie, Dustin Hoffman, Lucy Liu, Jackie Chan, Seth Rogen, David Cross. Dreamworks, 2011.

 

Lam, Andrew. “Chinese Culture and the Politics of “Kung Fu Panda”.” New America Media. N.p., 15 June 2011. Web. 18 May 2017. <http://newamericamedia.org/2011/06/chinese-culture-and-the-politics-of-kung-fu-panda.php>.

 

Lee, Min. “‘Kung Fu Panda’ reaches Chinese box office milestone.” USA Today. Gannett Satellite Information Network, 03 July 2008. Web. 18 May 2017.

 

As Men Wish

Link

As Men Wish

Just about everyone in liberal circles knows that the classic Disney princess movies are problematic. Even Disney knows it! The old classics that I grew up with—Cinderella, The Little Mermaid, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, etc.—are condemned today for the female characters’ lack of agency and the overemphasis on physical beauty. According to one critic, the Disney Princess brand “implies that girls should be sweet and submissive” and suggests that “a girl’s most valuable asset is her beauty,” and these claims are backed up with data (Hains). After years of profiting off of the popularity of such movies and all of the many products surrounding them, Disney is trying to shake things up. Recent hit Disney princess movies include Frozen, Tangled, Brave, Moana, and others. These newer iterations of the classic fairy tale genre are trying to quell parents’ fears of misogynistic movies by creating stories with strong female characters and less emphasis on princes. Whether or not Disney succeeds in making feminist princess fairy tales (hint: they don’t), there seems to be demand for fairy tale movies that don’t reinforce patriarchal values. In a genre dominated by Disney, is there anything better out there?

Ernst Bloch, a Marxist philosopher who studies culture, would say there is. In fact, he thinks most of culture is better than what Disney has to offer. Bloch believes that pop culture is utopic—it helps viewers, readers, and audiences imagine what a better world might look and feel like. He isn’t referring to just stories in the utopic genre; he’s referring to just about every work of culture. That definitely includes fairy tales. And maybe that isn’t so surprising, after all, many fairy tales end with “and they all lived happily ever after.” Even adults frequently talk about a good outcome as a “fairy tale ending.” These tropes indicate that the world that fairy tales describe is happier and better than the world we live in. As Ernst puts it, fairy tales describe “a more colourful or lighter Elsewhere” where “there is enough happiness to go around” (Bloch, 353). According to Bloch, fairy tales respond to real social problems, so, for example, “when the peasant was still in bondage, the poor fairytale boy thus won the king’s daughter” (Bloch, 354). Present day fairy tales, therefore, ought to respond to current social problems as well. It’s been well established that Disney movies are not utopic; they reproduce problems in society, rather than solve them. But Disney’s princesses are not the only ones out there. The Princess Bride would like to be an alternative to Disney. It presents itself as a newly utopic fairy tale that differs from the misogyny of other fairy tale movies.

The Princess Bride styles itself as a self-aware, self-mocking fairy tale, but does so with a lot of love for the genre. The 1987 film situates itself in the fairy tale genre with its familiar storyline and characters such as the beautiful princess, the friendly giant, the master swordsman, and of course, the charming, clever, blond hero.  Framed as a grandfather reading a story to his sick grandson, the main story describes a beautiful blond, who is kidnapped and later held captive, only to be rescued twice by the hero, who overcomes numerous obstacles and even death to save her, his true love. Though the plot is a classic one, the movie’s tones and humor aim to make it freshly utopic. The trailer advertises it as “not just your basic, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum, fairytale.” The Princess Bride is funny and sharp and includes such self-ridiculing moments as when a Yiddish-singing miracle worker describes true love as second only in worth to a MLT—mutton, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. It takes fairy tale tropes to excess. When two of the heroes first meet as foes, they go to excesses of chivalry and have friendly conversations as they duel. One pulls the other up from a cliff’s edge and allows him time to rest while they have a friendly chat before they begin their fight to the death. These fresh, humorous moments are what fans love about the film. The comedic and parody elements have made The Princess Bride in the cult classic and reveal The Princess Bride’s intentions to be a utopic fairy tale.

Another key element that reveals the utopic aspirations of The Princess Bride is the commentary between the young boy and his granddad, who are reading the main story together while the grandson is sick. Though the young boy is initially wary of his grandfather’s book, he becomes very invested and interrupts the story to tell his grandfather that the story has gone wrong when it appears to be leading to an unhappy ending. He’s absolutely positive about how this fairy tale is supposed to be, and in the end he turns out to be right. He knows what a fairy tale happy ending looks like. He affirms the correctness of the morals of the story and of its definition of a happy ending. The movie draws the line between reality and fantasy, and the characters in reality approve of fantasy.  This is most apparent at the end when the grandpa answers the boy’s request to hear the story again with the iconic phrase repeated by the hero, Westley to the heroine, Buttercup—“as you wish.” The ending unifies reality with story and affirms the message of love that the movie has been putting forth the entire time. Although it has been making fun of the princess genre and the trope of true love, the movie ends by blurring the lines of reality and fiction, thus endorsing the movie and the values that come with it. The purpose of these deviations is to establish The Princess Bride as newly utopic. Though it is in the same category as Disney princess movies, it aims to set itself apart as a better version—a truly utopic fairy tale. Despite its utopic feel, The Princess Bride falls into the same traps as all of its Disney counterparts. It reproduces the same patriarchal values—it just does so in funnier packaging.

The film is dominated largely by men, with just four speaking female characters appearing in the whole movie, and only one who is actually a main character. But even the women shown in the movie are flat characters.  Buttercup, the female lead, was a commoner who became a princess after the prince identified her as the most beautiful woman in the land. Having been established as beautiful, she is described as little else throughout the movie. She has no other qualities, even as her lover, Westley, is brave, clever, mysterious, and excellent with a sword.  Though Westley represents a familiar fairy tale hero trope, at least that trope is mutli-faceted. Buttercup relies entirely on Westley to save her from any harm. When the two are in the Fire Swamp, Buttercup shrieks at every sign of danger, while Westley remains perfectly calm and even cracks jokes. When he is attacked by a monster of the swamp, Buttercup stands by and allows him to fight it off himself even as he is injured and nearly killed.   She is the classic damsel in distress.

Buttercup cowering behind Westley after they emerge from the fire swamp

But not everyone believes that Buttercup’s undersized role reflects patriarchal values. Derek Hobson, a pop culture blogger, actually sees The Princess Bride as a feminist film. He points to Buttercup ordering Westley around on the farm as evidence of her power and agency and sees her as pragmatic and calculating when she agrees to be the prince’s bride.  He especially points to her plan to commit suicide rather than be with the prince (Hobson). But if the height of Buttercup’s agency is her threat to commit suicide, a la Romeo and Juliet, that’s rather limited empowerment. Hobson even argues that strong female characters have different traits than strong male characters; he suggests that the male characters’ strength is reflected in their action, while women take an “inward journey” (Hobson).  He refers to a female action hero in another movie as weak because “she’s playing a man’s role.”  Hobson seems to be redefining women’s strength to allow mostly passive characters to qualify as strong in a womanly way.  He differentiates female and male strength in a way that replicates damaging notions of femininity. He tries to adapt his feminism to fit with the movie’s misogyny and, unsurprisingly, fails. Buttercup exists primarily as a plot device to motivate the actions of the male characters. Her betrothed, the prince, is literally using her as a pawn to be murdered to set off a war with the neighboring kingdom. It’s becoming harder and harder to see where this fairy tale could be utopic. Like in Disney stories, this plot undermines the agency of women and tells girls that their relationship with a man is what’s most important.

The only other significant female character—and it’s a stretch to say significant— is the wife of the miracle worker, whose only role is to prod her husband into helping the heroes along on their quest.  When she walks in and calls him out on his attempts to avoid saving Westley, he screams and calls her a witch. In a movie not rated PG, the word “witch” might have been replaced with another, more profane word frequently used to describe assertive women. She’s also made to look like a witch, with lots of wrinkles and unkempt white hair. Witches, by the way, make frequent appearances in fairy tales, and let’s just say they aren’t usually the good guys. So the movie offers two models of womanhood, the young, blond, beautiful, and passive and the old, aggressive, yelling, witch.  Like many Disney princess fairy tales, it certainly is not offering young girls alternatives for happiness and fulfillment beyond what society has to offer.  In fact, it reproduces and reinforces the patriarchal idea that girls should care about their appearance above all else and passively wait for men. In a movie defined by the quotable brilliance of its characters, the main female character is flat and unmemorable. Most scenes from The Princess Bride have been uploaded to YouTube because somebody found that clip memorable or funny. Not a single one of those memorable lines belongs to Buttercup.  Unlike the other characters she is flat—just a prop to motivate the actions of the male characters.

The Witch

The Princess

The scenes between the grandson and grandfather are similarly problematic. The evolution of the boy’s attitude towards the story, though at first glance subversive, actually reveals a deeper level of patriarchal values.  The young boy is reluctant to hear a book about a princess and is only coaxed into listening when his grandfather assures him that there are pirates and sword fighting. By the end, however the young boy has become invested in the love story and urges his grandfather to even read the kissing part.  On its face, this may appear to be reversing some of the stereotypes about gender as the boy comes to enjoy an aspect of the story that is traditionally considered “girly.”  The boy eventually likes the true love aspect and is willing to hear about a sappy kiss. And yet, for the movie to show a fairy tale love story that a boy can like, it has to be male dominated and filled with passive women.  The boy reflects that notion when he says “after all that Westley did for her, if she didn’t marry him, it wouldn’t be fair” (The Princess Bride). Skip to :36 to see the boy’s indignation:

He is looking for the happy ending not because it’s true love, but because the princess somehow owes him marriage. So in fact the boy’s enjoyment of the story is not subversion at all, but rather a reinforcement of the gender norms in the fairy tale section. Of course, the movie also exists in a consumerist context—they want to sell tickets and copies of the movie.  The movie exists on three levels, the actual story, the boy listening to the story, and the viewers watching the movie. The Princess Bride fails to be subversive on all three. So when they make a fairy tale movie about true love, they make sure to include pirates, sword fighting, one dimensional female characters, and a great deal of poking fun at the genre.   The Princess Bride aims to be a princess fairy tale that is not just for girls.  Of course, maybe this isn’t such a surprise… A piece of culture selling to boys and relying on patriarchal stereotypes?

He is looking for the happy ending not because it’s true love, but because the princess somehow owes him marriage. So in fact, the boy’s enjoyment of the story is not subversion at all, but rather a reinforcement of the gender norms in the fairy tale section. Of course, the movie also exists in a consumerist context—they want to sell tickets and copies of the movie. When Hollywood makes a fairy tale movie about true love, it has to make sure to include pirates, sword fighting, and one-dimensional female characters.   Unlike Disney movies, The Princess Bride aims to be a princess fairy tale that is not just for girls.   In doing so, they reproduce misogynistic messages in a manner that is remarkably similar to the very movies they reject and fail to be utopic as Bloch imagined. Of course, maybe this isn’t such a surprise… A princess movie that relies on patriarchal stereotypes?  Inconceivable!!

Works Cited

Bloch, Ernst. The Principle of Hope. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1996. Print.

Chalon Smith, Mark. “‘Princess Bride’ Weds Swashbuckling Adventure and Laughs.” Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 19 Aug. 1993. Web. 19 Apr. 2017.

Hains, Rebecca. “Why Disney princesses and ‘princess culture’ are bad for girls.” The Washington Post. WP Company, 24 June 2016. Web. 07 May 2017.

Hobson, Derek. “The Princess Bride Review: A Feminist Reading.” Post Script Productions. N.p., 12 Oct. 2016. Web. 19 Apr. 2017. <http://www.postscriptproductions.net/2015/09/28/the-princess-bride-1973-review/>.

The Princess Bride. Dir. Rob Reiner. By William Goldman. MGM Home Entertainment, 2001.