WIT Voices

“I could direct a Disney cartoon.”

This statement arose out of a lazy Saturday afternoon discussion with my husband.

He thought about that statement for a long time. So long that my mind started wandering to another topic.

“Yes,” was his answer, finally. “But not one that stars a princess.”

“No princesses?” I asked, thinking about how awesome it would be to be the creator of that moment in The Little Mermaid, in the treasure trove, the music swell right before Ariel swims up into the camera, singing

“But I know something’s starting right now,” That moment where her voice cracks just a tiny bit, which gives every female in the audience a shudder of pure recognition. That longing, that despair, at seeing your future but having no way to attain it.

“Why not the princesses?” Dan seemed taken aback by my voice.. His mind had wandered to another topic. I had retreated into my own world completely, just by imagining that one moment. Yeah, I’d like to create a moment like that.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “You would just do better with the aladdins and the quasi modods-”"And Hercules,” I jumped in.

“And Hercules,” the nodding of his head mirroring his agreement. I was OK with that, especially once I remembered that Ariel and Belle weren’t princesses at first, so they could count.

It’s true. Princesses would bore me. It’s much more interesting having someone with a real struggle, and not a struggle that can be changed by simply using the power that you have to change your country’s laws.

In New York, I directed The Caucasian Chalk Circle and soon after Antigone and I couldn’t help thinking, is this it? Am I destined to direct stories about a woman fighting against her country and against war? Then I directed The Trojan Women and it was all over. That would be my lot in life.

But I never was attracted to princesses. I started reading Ayn Rand and wanted nothing more in life than to be thrown down on the bed by Howard Roark. In the same thought I wanted the life of Kira, martyr to her own love, in the scene when she lights a cigarette, standing outside her communist lover’s apartment, standing in her new good clothes; despising the lover who keeps her husband protected and loving the power that just her presence has on him. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go outside right now and buy We The Living. Devour it cover to cover. You will never love the same way again.)

But I digress. There are heroines and there are princesses. I like the heroines. The ones with deep dark fears and the ones who make mistakes and the ones who would give up everything to be with their loves.

The passionate, fiery women who are in the wrong place or who cannot shut off their minds and desires, whether for their brothers, their men, their country or their freedom. These are the women around whom I could build a story. I could direct their animated feature.

But don’t count me out of the Aladdins and the Quasimodos and Hercules.–