Dr. Toon: Growing Up Princess
At the time of this writing, Disney's live-action (and partly animated) feature film Enchanted was speeding in its pumpkin-shaped coach towards the $100 million mark. One month after its release, the film was still the fourth-highest box-office draw in the country and wearing its tiara proudly as critical acclaim has been near unanimous. The reasons for the film's success are manifold: A delightful romance in which the incongruities of storybook and real life were transcended by love, lively musical numbers, and a cast that truly seemed to love performing in the service of total fantasy. The Disney animation team, bolstered by the temporary return of Andreas Deja and Mark Henn, contributed ten enchanting minutes in which the Disney conventions of the 1990s were lovingly recreated and gently satirized. Still, the film was successful for another reason, one which harkens back to the very origins of childhood fantasy.
Most princesses throughout history had it rougher than one might think. Power in royalty, with a few notable exceptions, rested with males. The daughters of European kings and queens were educated and supplied with sufficient social skills to make them desirable bargaining chips. They were then used as pawns in order to secure complicated lines of successions that guaranteed alliances and other military or economic deals. Sometimes the Church and Pope were involved, sometimes not, but one thing is certain: very few princesses found husbands through true love's kiss, and even fewer expected to.
The life of a fairy-tale princess, however, is pretty sweet. You're beautiful, your royal parent doth dote on you, and enchantment abounds. Oh, there may be an evil queen, nasty witch, or occasional dragon gumming up the works, but in the end you are swept away by Ye Hot Prince and live Happily Ever After. It is little wonder then that so many young girls love to try the part on. It seems to be a universal phase of fantasy play in our culture, and as it turns out, far more pervasive than most of us dreamed. At least that's what was discovered back in 1999.
Andy Mooney, recently hired by Disney Consumer Products division, had a problem. Sales were slow and a new brand was needed to save the day. While fishing for new concepts, he attended a "Disney on Ice" show in Phoenix, Arizona and found himself surrounded by a plethora of princesses. Not Disney princesses, mind you, simply scores of little girls flitting about in some conception of royal costume. Mooney, no fool he, woke up and smelled the mead (and the money). Better still, the Disney stable already contained a fair number of fair princesses, many of them sitting about idly waiting for appearances in listless direct-to-video DVDs.
Mooney and his team convened under the newly adopted Pantone Pink (No. 241) banner and gathered together the grandest gaggle of princesses ever convened in one castle. The lineup was as formidable as any team-up of heroes seen in Marvel or DC: Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Ariel, Belle, Jasmine, Pocahontas, and Mulan. Considered for the starting lineup but unable to crack it was Tinker Bell; fear not -- she would have her day a bit down the royal road.
Princess Giselle from the aforementioned film Enchanted was likewise intended to join the royal rally, until it became apparent that Amy Adams would have to be paid a king's ransom for her likeness. Mulan was not actually a fairy-tale princess, but she fit the mold closely enough to make the cut. None of the above had ever met on film and, according to Disney mythology, could not have possibly known each other, but the myths were about to be re-written. Enter the Disney Princesses.
This is the age of demographic research, careful marketing strategies, focus groups, and carefully constructed advertising campaigns. No high-profile product is released without them, but Andy Mooney was so certain he had a hit that he dispensed with all of them and took the Princesses straight to the shelves. The Big Eight hit for $100 million in sales in their first year as a posse; the franchise has currently generated over $3.4 billion dollars, with over 25,000 items for sale in 90 countries. That's quite a team: The combined value of the New York Yankees, Washington Redskins, and Los Angeles Lakers would come in at slightly less that a billion below that. The Disney Princesses have superseded all other Disney characters in terms of profitability, and few little lasses in the country do not own some artifact featuring a princess or two.
Soon they will have another, Princess Tiana from the upcoming 2009 film The Princess and the Frog. This perky princess will be the first African-American character to play on the team, and will doubtless bring more gold to the royal counting house that is Disney. Meanwhile, the current princesses are tighter than any version of the Yankees or Lakers, sharing a "Princess Anthem" and gamboling their way through various configurations and team-ups in DVDs, videogames, and appearances at live Disney events. The Pantone Pink juggernaut has become so pervasive, in fact, that the inevitable question has been raised by child experts; "Is this good for little girls?"
There is somewhat of a split in opinion here. Some writers, such as Melissa Fletcher Stoelje, writing in My San Antonio.com notes that "little girls have loved princesses for eons, ever since Cinderella lost that glass slipper on the castle steps." Yet, she goes on to say that "...in recent times, shrewd marketing by retailers has pushed preadolescent princess worship into the stratosphere." Disney spokesman Gary Foster agrees with at least the first statement, claiming that Disney is simply marketing to an urge that is somehow innate in little girls, that of dress-up, role-play, and "a genetic desire to like pink."
Sharon Lamb, who along with Lyn Mikel Brown has written a terrific book titled Packaging Girlhood: Rescuing Our Daughters From Marketers' Schemes, informed Stoelje that the princess explosion influences girls to be obsessed with beauty, body image, and being the magical, special one who gets the attention (and wins the boy). This, according to Lamb, excludes other ways in which one can explore the wonder of being a girl, and a multimillion dollar industry makes a tidy profit by virtually ensuring that they don't by drowning them in 25,000 products.

























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