Frozen Review – The Hidden Villain

*WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS*

Yesterday I went and saw the new Disney princess film, Frozen. From what I’ve gathered it’s received a very positive response and everyone’s buzzing with love for the story, songs and characters. I’ll just start by saying I liked it. I liked it a lot. I thought it was funny, touching, had great catchy tunes, the characters were very likeable and it took Disney princess films into our modern era without loosing the magic and simplicity they’ve always had.

But if I had to summarise my feelings towards this film in five words, I’d just say: Hans is such a jerk.

Usually in Disney films I love the villain. They tend to be sad misunderstood people (or animals) who got the raw end of a deal in life. More often than not I barrack for the villain and they end up being my favourite character. This is not the case in Frozen. For the first time ever here is a film where the bad guy is a lying, deceiving, cold hearted jerk who hurts people just to get what he wants… and I don’t feel sorry for him in the least. They’ve actually managed to create a villain who is hateable.  

One of the first songs in the film is sung by the protagonist Anna. She’s excited because the gates are going to be open for her sister’s coronation day, a ball will be thrown, and for the first time in forever she has a chance to meet someone and fall in love. Typical Disney princess dream. Then she meets Hans. He’s a handsome, kind prince who treats Anna like the princess she is and they have a wonderful night together talking and laughing, he understands her and they have a lot in common, she feels she’s finally met someone who won’t just close the doors on her and who genuinely cares for her. At this point I loved Hans. He was pretty adorable, I mean, look at him: 

 By the end of their one perfect night together they decide they’re madly in love and are going to get married. As an audience member I didn’t question this for a second, it’s a Disney film, love at first sight and instant proposals happen all the time. Anna’s sister then gets angry, accidently curses their village into an eternal winter and runs away to live in a ice castle up a mountain. Anna leaves Hans and her home to go bring her sister back. On her way she meets ice-lover, reindeer befriender; Kristoff.

(Did anyone else notice that the two main male characters are called Hans and Kristoff and Frozen is based off a book by Hans Christian Anderson? I thought that was cool).

It’s pretty obvious that Kristoff is going to become Anna’s main love interest. He tells her that she’s silly for getting engaged to a man she’s only just met and that true love is something more and something greater than that. And suddenly this isn’t just a typical Disney princess film where love at first sight isn’t questioned and is somewhat expected or normal for the protagonist – Kristoff brings in our modern day belief that you need to get to know someone over a period of time before you can really say whether you’re suited for each other and if you love them. This is where you realise that Hans isn’t going to be Anna’s main love interest and that it’ll probably end up being Kristoff (actually, you probably worked that out just from the trailer), but Anna is still insistent that Hans is “the one” and I really liked Hans at this point so I was rooting for him too. I mean, look at him: 

So then Anna gets struck in the heart by her sister’s icy powers and only an act of true love will be able to save Anna’s life. So Kristoff rushes her back to the castle so Hans can kiss her. Now for the part that made me exclaim out loud in the cinema, which I don’t usually do (unless I’m having fun with friend’s or something, but that’s different). When Hans and Anna are finally reunited she explains to him that he has to kiss her because only an act of true love can save her life now. He sits her down on the couch, puts his hand on her cheek and slowly leans in to kiss her, but then unexpectedly decides to pull away at the last second and says: “Oh Anna, if only there was someone out there who loved you.”

For a fraction of a second I thought he was going to continue and say something forgivable like, “I thought I loved you but I’ve realised that just one night isn’t enough time to really know. I think we jumped into calling it love too quickly, I’m sorry.” That would’ve been okay. That would’ve been understandable and human and I wouldn’t have hated him. But that’s not what he went on to say. After Anna’s “what!?” he continues with something along the lines of: “It was so easy to deceive you. You were so desperate for love you couldn’t even see that I just wanted to marry you so I can have the throne. Who accepts a marriage proposal after just one night!? I never loved you.” How could he do that? He was so sweet. I mean, look at him: 

 Then Hans runs off leaving Anna shivering and dying on the wooden floor. She tells her snowman friend Olaf that she once dreamed of finding true love but now she doesn’t even know what love is anymore. Good one Hans, you win the prize for biggest jerk in a Disney film ever.

So yeah, I loved Frozen because you’re typically meant to despise the villain in Disney films and it’s nice to, for once, actually feel that.

Post #2

Wow I'm failing this challenge drastically. Oh well. I guess I just have to catch up and write a few extra posts over the next few weeks. 12 posts will be written these holidays! 

Anyway, here's a story I just wrote. I didn't write it for this blog but then I figured I may as well post it since I'm behind in post counts and must start redeeming myself. Also, I haven't gotten around to writing the stories some people gave me a place, character and scenario for on Facebook cos I've been busy and stuff and didn't want to. But I will. Here's a different story while you wait: 

Standing in the middle of a large open field surrounded by warm air and the smell of daises. A boy takes her hand and kisses her on the forehead. They chase each other playfully across the field until they run out of breath and collapse to the grassy ground beside each other. They talk happily for hours and then she says “of all the days, this one’s my favourite” and he rolls over onto his side to look at her and as she meets his gaze he says, “I hope tomorrow is just like today.”

“Are you okay?”

She blinks herself back to reality. The rain is bucketing down on the bus window and inside it’s overheated and crowded with other school girls. She looks away from the window and to the boy sitting next to her, he looks concerned, this puzzles her and she wonders why there is a boy on her school bus. He raises his eyebrows as if to prompt her to say something and when she doesn’t he says again, “are you okay?” She has to force herself to look away from his bright green eyes which stare at her, waiting, so that an answer to his question can form in her mind. She doesn’t quite understand why he even asked her if she's okay since she feels completely fine.

“I’m fine,” she says looking back at him with a small smile. He frowns as if he doesn’t believe her but then shrugs his shoulder slightly and smiles,

“Oh okay. It’s just you looked a little upset about something,” he tells her and continues to look at her, still a bit concerned, waiting for more reassurance.

Feeling slightly embarrassed for getting herself so deeply lost in thought she awkwardly mutters, “Oh. No, I’m fine. Really. I was just daydreaming.” He laughs a little and this pleasantly surprises her. He says,

“That must have been a pretty horrible daydream,” she looks at him confused and so he says again, “you looked pretty upset.” He smiles at her kindly and her heart starts to flutter, she wonders again why he’s even on the bus.

“It wasn’t horrible,” she says, “I guess I just look upset when I’m lost in thought.” This time he seems to believe she’s fine but continues to stare at her in puzzlement as if she fascinates or maybe even intrigues him. She looks down at her stockings and fiddles with her dress hoping that he’ll get off the bus soon but simultaneously hoping that he never leaves.

The bus stops and she feels him stand up from the seat beside her, she looks up at him and bracing himself to step out into the bitter cold rain he says, “I hope tomorrow isn’t like today.” 

The Dream - Challenge Post #1

This will be the first post of my 6 week challenge. I'm not counting the last one because that was just an introductory type thing. 

Last night I had a pretty horrible dream. I have nightmares a lot but only sometimes do I have one so bad that it causes me to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my screaming and then lie awake in my bed for several minutes trying to think of happy thoughts and trying not to fall back asleep in fear of returning to the same dream. Last night was one of those rare occasion horrific wake up ones. Here it is: 

I'm sitting in a hotel foyer and my aunty rushes over to me from, a panicked look on her face. She tells me that my sister has caught a serious infectious disease and anyone who wants to see her again will have to get a special injection designed especially for her case so that her loved ones won't catch what she has. 

I have a bad phobia of needles, I haven't met anyone who's as scared of them as I am, but I swallowed my fear without a millisecond of thought, or a single word, stood up and followed my aunt into a doctor's office. I had no reason to trust my aunty knew what she was doing because she isn't a nurse or doctor or anything like that but without any hesitation I pulled up my sleeve and didn't wince or cry or show any fear at all because I knew that I had to do this for my sister. 

After my aunty had given me the needle she said, 

"It seems that I got it wrong. Your sister isn't the one with the disease. It's you." 

I was just relieved to hear she was fine. My aunty went on to say, 

"This means that you're going to have to go into isolation and anyone who wants to see you will have to get the injection."

My first thought was: injections are my biggest fear, all the people I love and care about will surely go through what I just went through so I don't have to be alone with this disease. 

Some weird dream time passed and now me and my aunty are back in the hotel foyer and she says,

"No one has taken the injection," 

and so I asked, "what about my parents? What about my boyfriend?" 

and she said, "it was too hard for them. They couldn't go through with it." 

Then my body started to shake and I couldn't breathe. Next thing I knew I was by myself sitting on the white tiled floor of a small bathroom. The white walls, bath, sink and floor where all splattered with bright red blood. I knew the blood was mine but I wasn't bleeding and I didn't know how it got there. There were Wolverine like claws coming out of my knuckles, it scared me to think that a part of me was made of something so sharp and cold. 

I couldn't feel any physical pain from the "disease" but the hurt of knowing that I wasn't worth the effort to the people I thought had loved me of having to endure one injection was destroying me worse than any disease could. And then all of a sudden I realised that it was knowing no one cared enough to be here for me that WAS the disease, it was draining the life from me. So I started to scream over and over as loud as I could, hoping someone would hear, but the smell of my blood was starting to make me feel weak and I knew no one would come save me, I said "why wasn't I worth it?" and then I woke up. 

Next time I promise to write something happy and upbeat, maybe it'll even be funny! 

Luna. 

Holiday Blues

It's that time of the year again. Mid year holidays. Forgive me for not leaping with joy, bad back you know. Lion King references aside, holidays suck. For me. I've probably mentioned this in some other post years ago, most likely when I was in year 11 or 12 when holidays REALLY REALLY sucked, but I'm saying it again. I don't think anyone hates holidays as much as I do, except maybe Harry Potter. 

"Why do you hate holidays Luna Moony?" 

Thanks for asking faithful blog reader, but I don't think I want to get into that right now. This isn't my diary where I blab on about my feelings and what not, so let's just leave my answer at "I hate holidays because they suck" the end. 

Now, the reason I'm here writing a post (which I obviously don't do very often anymore) is because I'm setting myself a challenge which I think might save me from some of my Holiday Agony Blues (capitalised for impact), and by 'some' I mean perhaps I tiny smidgen dot, but a little is better than none. And that challenge is going to be to write a post twice a week while I'm on holidays for the next 6 weeks. So 12 posts in total. 

At first this challenge will be easy and I'll happily log in and write down some of my thoughts or whip up a short story for you to read but eventually, like maybe after the first week, it's going to get harder for me to find the motivation to do it (to do anything really) and I'll start thinking things like "why am I bothering with this challenge when no one reads my blog anyway?" "this challenge isn't making me feel better, why keep it up?" and "this blog writing is a waste of time and energy" so it'd be helpful if someone ANYONE HELP ME (another Lion King reference... I should stop with those)... so it'd be helpful if someone, anyone, or everyone could help me by sometimes reading my stuff and commenting and encourage me to keep up my challenge. Thanks in advance friend. 

Luna. 

Goodbye Video Store

Today I found out that my local video store is closing down. It had been a while since I last wondered down to rent a DVD and so it was rather serendipitous that I ended up going on the day before it would seize to exist forever. I’m glad I got the chance to rent one last thing before the end.

When I entered the store I was entirely unaware that they were closing. In oblivious naivety I walked through the glass doors, smiled at the familiar lady behind the counter and headed to the TV show section to look for the first series of Charmed. There was a different vibe in the store but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, my innocent mind never dared to think that it might be packing up and closing down. I took my DVD to the counter and saw the first thing that I just couldn’t ignore as being odd: the whiteboard, usually covered in a list of the new releases and staff member’s favourite films, was wiped blank.

I handed the lady the copy of Charmed and she said “how are you today?” in a very good-to-see-you-back-again-my-faithful-regular-costumer tone. I was just about to ask her why the whiteboard had been cleared when she began to tell me that the store would be closing on Wednesday. As she said this I looked around and noticed that the store was looking especially bare, that shelves were half empty and the candy stock was very minimal. Looking around now it was obvious that this place was preparing to close.

Now I sit at home with my last video store rental by my side typing at my computer as I flash back to fond memories of my favourite place….

When I first moved to this suburb I was about to go into year 10, school was just starting to become bearable and I was happier than I’d been in a while. I liked a lot of things about our new house, I liked that I got my own room and liked that it was close to the train station, but above all else I liked that it was an 8 minute walk to the nearest strip of shops where I would be able to rent movies at the video store there.

Year 10 and 11 came and went and I would venture down to get myself a movie at least once a week, letting my love of film consume me and viewing a wide range of often life altering and idea sparking movies. I was like Roald Dahl’s Matilda only with films at a video store instead of books in a library. All of the films I consider to be my favourite today I rented and watched for the first time from that store, most notably: Stay, The Chumbsrubber and The Invisible.

Walking up and down the isles, through the drama, comedy, new release, classic, thriller and action sections, reading all the covers front and back and choosing the most appealing or interesting looking ones. It was there in those isles that I realised I wanted my future to be centred around the film industry. It was there that I found who I was.

On my 18^th birthday instead of racing to the liquor store to legally buy alcohol or heading off to a casino or bar with friends for the first time, my excitement rested solely on going to the video store and renting an R18+ film for myself. They didn’t even check my ID or ask if I was 18 like I expected them to, but it was a moment I’ll never forget.

And then there were school holidays. I tended to feel very low and like life was rather meaningless when on holidays. My friends lived ages away and I didn’t get to see them. Walking down to the video store to rent a film and then walking back home again and watching it gave me some purpose when I was feeling down, and added some brightness and joy to my life. To me films aren’t just something you chuck on when you’re bored or because you just need some time to relax or have some fun. For me watching a film is like observing a piece of art unravel in story form before me and when I watch I learn and pick up elements that I might one day use in films that I make myself. During the holidays films were my saviour because they were an inspiration and a light of hope. The walk to the store itself gave me a goal and a reason to get out into the sun and fresh air, I’m very grateful that I was forced to get up and walk instead of being able to simply download the film at home.

I remember one day, walking home from the video store, I was in a particularly sad mood for no real reason that I could pinpoint, but as I walked up the street and through the park back to my house, freshly rented DVD in hand, my mood picked up and I had a silly thought. I said to myself, “I love that video store. It’s like my second home” and then I laughed because I realised how sad that would sound if I said it to someone else, someone who didn’t understand the magic and art of film and the bliss of walking up the store isles with all the covers looking longingly at you for a chance to be held and considered to rent.

The video store, not just the films themselves, helped shape a lot of strong opinions and views I have on the way our world functions. My fear of technology taking over and everything being available on the internet arose from my love of walking to the video store and renting films there and the sad but very possible thought that it may one day be gone. Furthermore, it taught me to hold onto the simple pleasures in life and to savour moments.

My dear Network Video Store, I will love you forever even if you exist only in my heart and memory now. You made me the person I am today and you were always there when I needed you most. You were a sudden sparkle of colourful lights in the dark and a soft blanket of comfort on a cold and lonely night. I doubt anyone will ever truly understand why it has grieved me so much to loose you, but knowing your doors will never open for me again made me cry like I’d lost a friend.  

2012

Hello readers.

So, it's been many months now since I last posted something. This poor little blog is feeling very neglected and unloved. I'm sorry blog, I ask for your forgiveness but know I don't deserve it. The truth is, I just haven't been bothered to write anything for a really long time. That's it. No fancy or decent excuse. Just lame can't be bothered-ness.

Moving on.

2012 has arrived at our doorstep, bursting with the promise of joy and adventure. On New Years Eve you may have made a resolution. Something that you are determined to do or change this year. I did not. This isn't because I'm trying to be an anti-conformist and rebel against the norm (which, admittedly, I do sometimes), but just because nothing sprung to mind.

AHA! My New Years resolution can be to bring this blog back to life. Wonderful. Glad that's settled.

On other matters, I actually have nothing to say, I just felt like writing something and I remembered I actually have an output to do that. Cheers blog! You're the best.

That's all folks,

Luna.

A Story (original title, I know)

Lately, I've rediscovered the greatness that is 'The Wizard of Oz.' Over the last few days I bought the soundtrack and re-read the book. Fun times. Then I started writing a story, which isn't a Wizard of Oz spin off, nor is it an original story that has nothing to do with the Wizard of Oz. What I mean is: I'm not trying to be original but I'm also not trying to draw parallels. Now that that's cleared up, there's pretty much nothing you can accuse me of! Enjoy:

- before you begin, please note that when I copy and pasted this story in, my wonderful paragraphing got messed up. I don't think it will make much of a difference though.

Eavely, although she was very dainty and small, often felt cold and hard. A little flitter inside her heart told her that she was not as kind as the other children, the flitter told her that she was not as pretty as the other girls, but worst of all the little flitter told her that she was not special, and that she would never do anything extraordinary or succeed in making others happy by her mere presence.

This flitter inside of Eavely’s heart was sometimes soft and sometimes hard, but it was always there.

One day Eavely’s mother and Eavely were talking at the kitchen table. The floor was checked with black and white squares, and the green walls matched her mother’s apron. Their house was not all together perfect, for it was too cold in winter and often there was no where for Eavely to hide when she was sad, but other than that it was as lovely a house as anyone could ask for.

Eavely’s mother was as sweet as any other mother she knew, she cared for Eavely when she fell ill, listened when Eavely needed her and made Eavely super every night. But Eavely’s mother was always tired. A blackness seemed to always hover over her, and enough of the time she blamed this blackness on Eavely.

On this particular evening, Eavely’s mother had cooked a most horrible pasta, which sloshed down Eavely’s throat and gurgled in her tummy.

“Is there something else I could eat for super, mother?” Eavely asked as politely as she could, though she knew there really was no nice way to go about it.

“You are naught but a black cloud, Eavely!” her mother spat back, “I should think you would be more grateful, after I slaved away to prepare this meal for you!” but Eavely’s mother had cooked this same pasta on several occasions before, and each time Eavely had timidly suggested a few mild improvements as to make the dish more bearable. However, Eavely’s mother never did head to her daughter’s suggestions but persisted to retort, by saying:

“Make your own super next time then!” which did not hinder Eavely one bit, for she loved cooking but never did have the time for it.

All this talk of Eavely being a black cloud, sent the blood rushing to her cheeks and ears. The flitter in her heart beat very hard indeed. She felts her face burning and burning, and tried very hard not to let the tears which were forming in her eyes drip down her face. Her mother went on and on for several minutes about all the terrible things that Eavely did, all the while Eavely sat in silence and fiddled with her fork and pasta, for she did not feel like arguing.

Once her mother had finally stopped yelling – she had built to quite a steamed rage by the end of it all- Eavely left the table without so much as a word, and slumped off to her bedroom before the tears would come.

Now, as you can probably imagine, being called a black cloud is not a pleasant experience, whether you believe yourself to be one or not.

“If she cannot see the love and peace within me, then either she does not know me or I do not know myself,” thought Eavely as she fell backwards onto her bed and gazed up towards the smooth, white ceiling. It was at this moment that Eavely decided to run away, far, far away, where she could delight in making a fresh start and meet new people who knew her not as a black cloud. All she wanted was to love and be loved by others. So, with an impulse of the heart, she took a small potato sack from the pantry and went back to her room to stuff it with everything she would need to survive out there.

First, she packed her favourite picture book – the colours and magical worlds within its pages reminded her of a happier life that knew not of- then, she sharpened her best pencil and shoved it into the sack along with a small notepad. Eavely was unsure of what else she would need, but luckily remembered not to forget her collection of toys:

An elephant made up of grey and brown patches, sewn all over his stubby body with large stitches. His button eyes shone a brilliant blue and his little tail was made of a single strand of brown string, frayed at the bottom. Eavely loved her elephant dearly, as he was always the best to cuddle at night.

Next was the tiny wooden clown, who was no taller than her pinky finger. His stripy jumpsuit was painted orange and blue, as was the collar around his neck. His big shoes curled around at the toes and were painted orange with a little blue dot on the very tips. Eavely was very fond of her wooden clown, for his cheerful grin always made her giggle.

Finally, Eavely placed the toy her mother had knitted for her, into the sac. It was a floppy red owl with enormous, thoughtful, black eyes. Eavely thought everything about him was perfect, and did not think twice before bringing him along.

Now, with a sac full of everything Eavely imagined she could possible need, the little girl nervously, yet determinedly, crept passed her mother (who had fallen asleep), and snuck out the front door into the night.