I recently watched Disney's 1950 Cinderella for the first time as an adult, and I've come to a shocking realization:
Cinderella lives in an evil empire.
No, I am not talking about how Cinderella is treated by Drizella, Anastasia, and Lady Tremaine. Even in the best fairy-tale kingdoms, there are evil stepmothers and their bratty spawn. Nor shall I speak about Lucifer the cat, because all cats are either evil or clumsy assholes who turn off your TV, knock over your painting, jump on your keyboard, and purr in your ear all night long in a misguided attempt to tell you that they love you, but that doesn't matter when your alarm goes off at 6:15 AM and you have to go to work. Not that I speak from experience.
*ahem*
No, I will only gather evidence based around the kingdom outside of the Tremaine estate.
The first evidence that we get of the world outside is the clock on the King's castle, which alarmingly bongs out the beginning of the day, officially marking the beginning of Cinderella's servitude. Before the clock went off, Cinderella could live in her dreams. After it tolls its awful knell, Cinderella must work. I empathize with her because my bed is warm and soft, and my dreams are often quite excellent, but an annoying alarm does not automatically imply an evil empire. It is, however, an excellent first step.
A second step comes from the clothing of the king and Prince Charming. To whit, they both wear exclusively military uniforms. Yes, that was the fashion in the 19th century, but it does not help their cause. Every portrait, even, shows the king and his son in full army uniforms. Never once do they slip into a nice civilian suit. The only time that the king is not in uniform is when he is in bed, asleep, but even then he dreams in uniform.
Then we arrive at the ball, and the evidence truly starts to accrue at an alarming rate.
When Cinderella arrives, there are soldiers lining the way to the ballroom. Not just a few here or there at the doors, but what has to be a battalion or more of tall, smartly-uniformed soldiers holding long polearms of several types. Why does a ball need enough troops to occupy a decent-sized town? Is the king expecting trouble? A putsch from a disaffected noble, perhaps, who wishes to ensure that their daughter marries the Prince? Or maybe a popular rebellion from the populace?
We'll get back to that one.
At the ball, the king spots Cinderella and gives the Grand Duke his orders to make certain she and the prince become an item. Before he leaves, the king says, "And remember! Should anything go wrong..." And then he draws his finger across his throat and makes a slitting sound between his teeth. This could be an amusing emphasis, except that the Grand Duke believes him! The poor functionary is trembling in his boots, knowing that his continued survival rests in the uncertain libedos’ of a previously disinterested prince and a completely unknown girl! This means that the king is ready to make good on his threat. He has executed nobles before, according to his vacillating and fluctuating whims. This is not the behavior of a good king. He has more in common with Mad King Aerys than Good King Richard.
Things go well for the Grand Duke, until the stroke of 12, and Cinderella makes her escape. The Grand Duke orders his troops to stop her, and bursting forth from the gates of the palace like a swarm of dark and terrible avengers comes a squadron of TERRIFYING DEATH HUSSARS! Seriously! They wear uniforms of pure black, excepting the blood-red lining of their capes. Their midnight steeds, umbral as the shadows in a Stygian cave, pursue Cinderella's carriage with a frightening swiftness, their riders swinging wickedly-curved swords in emphasis. And when Cinderella and her retinue turn back into the carthorse, house hound, door mice and serving girl that they truly are, the black horsemen nearly ride her down, trampling the pumpkin as surely as they would have her head had she not dashed out of their way. They did not even shout a warning, choosing to run over a worthless peasant instead of slowing for a second in their pursuit.
These are clearly the minions of an evil king. Would any good-hearted monarch, pure of intention and noble of mind, suffer such unrepentant murderers to serve in his royal army? I say he would not!
The horror does not end there. When the Grand Duke confesses that Cinderella got away, the king immediately holds high the sharp sword that he apparently keeps by his bed and, fury clouding his face, attempts to murder the loyal servant begging for mercy at his feet. When his first swing misses, the King pursues the poor man about the room, showing a remarkable athleticism for someone so rotund and advanced in age. The King keeps himself in fighting shape, strong enough to split a heavy wooden table in half with a single blow. All the while, this dread sovereign screams such phrases as "Traitor!" "Sabotage!" "You were in league with the prince all along!" "The whole thing was a plot!"
There are several questions to unpack in this scene. Why does the king keep a sharpened sword next to his bed? Why, with an army as strong as he has, does he feel he must be ready and able to fight for his life at any time? Why do his first thoughts lead to treason? Why does he think his son is plotting against him?
Is he so paranoid because there are constant coups from underlings attempting to usurp his authority? Does he fear such coups because that is how he came to power? Does he fear his son is planning a coup because he did the same thing when he was a young man? Does, does this mean that the king, this bald, mustachioed, portly, kindly-looking old man, this comedic relief character, murdered his own father to take the throne?
But thoughts of patricide fade when he finds that his son loves the woman who fits the glass slipper. His decree, though, has a little more evidence. He proclaims himself "His Imperial Majesty." Empires, by definition, are multinational, and imply that this king has conquered weaker kingdoms. That’s not necessarily evil. After all, Rome was an empire, but it's not a point in the king's favor.
Finally, we arrive at the royal wedding. Once again, a large contingent of soldiers line the stairs, armed and ready to subdue any unrest, and they are required, because as Cinderella and the Prince ride away in their gilded carriage, a crowd of polearm-wielding peasants are standing by to wave them goodbye!
I am not making this up. Watch the movie again! There, between the waving hands, tumbling tossed hats, and fluttering handkerchiefs are two halberds and a billhook swaying joyfully in the air! This cannot be normal! I've been to several weddings, and not one had so much as a single polearm in attendance (no matter how hard I argued that a best man needs to be able to protect the groom, Greg). But the presence of armed mobs at Cinderella's wedding, and the troops necessary to keep them from acting, indicate a kingdom on the edge of revolution.
Is this evidence conclusive? No, but it is rather damning. Does it destroy my enjoyment of the movie? On the contrary, I gain great amusement at this dark sub-level of Disney's fairy-tale world. Have I put too much thought into this? Perhaps. Could have I spent the time I put into writing this article on more productive pursuits?
Who are you, my mother? What's with all the questions? I was just trying to make a fun point about how the king in Disney's Cinderella is clearly an evil despot and his kingdom is on the verge of a bloody revolution, for crying out loud! But hey, if that's not your speed, just consider the horror of a world where intelligent, talking mice are murdered by the millions at the hands of their human overlords and feline minions. That's a much gentler message for the kids.