Malcolm, Oh Malcolm (Part I) 

The sixth season of Revisionist History has landed, and Malcolm Gladwell is back, striving to reveal the overlooked and the misunderstood. Some of you may recall my embrace of Gladwell when I first started this blog, with me going so far as saying that I wanted to be Gladwell (just a bit of hyperbole). But I must say, the gloss is wearing thin.      

Season six starts with a bizarre episode on self-driven cars. Rather than address the massive logistical and technological issues outstanding, Gladwell “waves a magic wand” to get us to the point where there are only self-driven cars on the road, as if that is all it will take for this transition. He then suggests that if all cars were self-driven there would be gridlock, because people would feel free to step in front of these cars, knowing that sensors would force them to stop.  It strikes me that if we can get to a world of only self-driven cars, we can solve the pedestrian issue, but what do I know?  

Then there were a couple of decent, though hardly groundbreaking, episodes on the ridiculous U.S News and World Report college rankings (Springfield College, voted number one among yellow skinned cartoon characters). Followed by a somewhat interesting profile of an unrepentant American Communist subject to the blacklist in the 50’s. So far, so blah. 

At that point, Gladwell heads off the rails, taking three episodes to attack Disney’s The Little Mermaid. Yes, The Little Mermaid. He is not satisfied to simply point out problematic aspects of the film, and they do exist, but labels the film as a bloated pinata (whatever that means) that’s not fit for children. Really? The Little Mermaid? 

Oddly, the first attack on the film is a legal one. Gladwell spoke with Laura Beth Nielson, a law professor and sociologist, who wrote a piece called “Law and Morality in Disney Films”. I must admit that this sounds more interesting than most of the law review articles I have slogged through. However, she seems to have trouble distinguishing between what adults may grasp, and what kids absorb. 

Nielson’s big complaint with The Little Mermaid is that Ariel signs a contract with the sea witch Ursula which dictates that Ariel must give Ursula her voice (which is the part of Ariel a human fell in love with) and, in exchange, Ursula will make Ariel human for three days. Ariel stays human forever if she can get the human to kiss her by the end of the third day. If not, she becomes Ursula’s slave.  

According to Neilson, it is outrageous for a children’s movie to depict the law in this way. This contract is immoral, she rants. It would be totally unenforceable. It teaches kids that the law is all powerful, and can be manipulated by evil people to do whatever they want. How dare we allow young ones to see this? (She doesn’t actually say that, but it’s the implication). 

Neilson said that after the movie ended, she explained the problem to her two pre-teen sons, and while she was careful to claim that the conversation was age appropriate, I have my doubts. I imagine that conversation otherwise. 

Mom: Now, boys. You know that the contract Ariel signed was Malum in Se, contrary to public policy, and would be annulled in any court of law, above or below the sea. 

Son 1: Right, mom. But wasn’t it cool when all the animals attacked Ursula and stopped her wedding to Eric? Especially when Max bites her in the butt.  

Mom: Don’t say butt dear. It’s bottom. But you’re missing the point. Ariel, or her guardian ad litem, should have sued Ursula to have the contract declared Void Ab Initio, and then all would have been well. 

Son 2: I like it best when Eric rams Ursula with the ship. That was dope!!!! 

Mom: Both of you to your rooms. And while you’re there, read what Corbin has to say on this. 

Son 1 and Son 2: Aw, Mom. That’s injustus.  

The children emerge two hours later, having emersed themselves in the difference between mutuality and competency, only to find that their mother has channeled Be Kind Rewind to create a new ending to the Little Mermaid. Gone is the climactic battle between Ursula, Ariel and Eric in the roiling sea. Instead, Ariel has hired Perry Mackerel to get her out of the contract. Ursula is defended by F. Lee Barracuda. The Honorable Judge Judy Jackfish presides. 

At trial, Mackerel ruthlessly pummels Flotsam and Jetsam on cross-examination (in an understated and professional manner) until King Triton can take it no more. He leaps to his feet and admits that he was in cahoots with Ursula all along to rid his kingdom of undesirables, including his annoying youngest daughter. Judge Jackfish dissolves the contract (literally) as King Triton slinks away in shame. The full cast then breaks into a rousing reprisal of Poor Unfortunate Souls (Who Can’t Afford a Good Lawyer) as the credits roll. Mom is in tears, as the boys look at each other in bewilderment. 

As much as we are aware of anthropomorphism, the attribution of human characteristics to animals, we often ignore adultomorphism, the attribution of adult concerns to children. As we will explore in Part 2 of this diatribe, children do absorb amazing concepts as they interact with the world, both real and imaginary. However, to suggest that pre-teens will draw conclusions about something like the vagaries of law from a cartoon is, at best, questionable.   

While I am not a child psychiatrist, my own sense is that the vast majority of kids quickly understand the nature of stories, and plot devices, especially in movies. They don’t over-analyze, but enjoy. It is real life that provides the lessons, especially what they hear and see from their parents and other adults. I think that is what we should be more worried about that than aquatic agreements by animated krakens.