… and I’m back! Did you miss me? I’m happy to say that this post is coming to you from the present. First, let’s give a big thanks to Liv and Emmie for their blog posts, and then let’s heave a huge sigh of relief (and a gasp of terror), because it’s time to get back to real life, complete with thoughtful blog posts and query letters.
So, the first order of business is Brave. We’re still semi-honeymooning, and we’ve spent the past two days sorting out our bank accounts and acquiring new cellphones. But my new husband did promise to take me to Brave once we got back from Mexico, and today we went.
I have to say I’ve been waiting for this movie for something like a year. An animated movie about a young girl with crazy-curly red hair, who rides a horse, shoots a bow, sings in Gaelic, and lives in Scotland?! Let’s just say, if this movie had come out when I was about 10, it would’ve ended up on my all-time favorite list. As it is, it’s maybe not in the top 10, but I still loved it.
The premise, in case you don’t know, is this: Princess Merida of the Wild Hair likes riding, shooting, and swinging a sword. She wants to run free and shape her own destiny. Her mother, however, wants Merida to behave like a good princess who speaks softly, walks gracefully, and generally acts like a lady. When her parents open the contest for suitors to win Merida’s hand, the princess refuses to accept the verdict and shoots for her own hand, thereby upsetting the peace of her family and the entire kingdom. She strikes off to make her own destiny, and wacky, touching, and beautiful antics ensue.
Sounds kind of like a hero’s journey, full of sword-fights and battles, right?
Wrong. The movie was essentially a mother-daughter story. The quest is an education in how the other sees the world, and the goal is to strike a balance between the powerful, sedate queen and the free-spirited, tomboyish princess. Merida must learn to appreciate her mother’s gifts, and Elinor must learn the joy and magic that comes from Merida’s playful approach to the world.
In spite of the semi-faulty advertising, it’s a beautiful story, one that almost made me cry at the Moment of Truth—and I’m not a crier.
If you don’t mind a small spoiler, I can tell you one of my favorite bits of the story: Throughout, hair is a metaphor for a person’s (not just a woman’s!) approach to life. Merida’s, obviously, is Botticelli-esque, beautiful and untamed, until her mother tries to force her into a new role and traps the locks in a garb that kinda makes Merida look like a corset-clad ET. Once Elinor learns her lesson and eases up on her daughter, she wears her hair long and flowing down her back: still straight, of course, but less no longer trapped in perfect, queenly ropes. The blustering king has grizzled, wild locks, and the wee demon brothers have tresses to rival their sister’s. An obnoxious, vain suitor has flowing waves that fall into his eyes, while the witch has a few rebellious hairs on her chin.
It’s not a new use of hair-as-metaphor, but I enjoyed it all the same, especially since it wasn’t kept to the women: it was much-used image, polished and given a new, cheerful face. The same could be said of the story, a timeless generational battle given a delightful fresh front.
In short, I was charmed by the whole movie. It has peerless animation, a gorgeous soundtrack, bathos, pathos, and a nice tomboy-girly core. Go see it.
So, without transition, I’m going to jump right into the question. It’s back to real life for me now, and that means paying more attention to this blog than I have in the past few months. And so, I have a question for you, dear reader:
What sort of content would you like to see here on Kristin’s Fantasies:
Remember: your input will make this blog more fun for you!
And since you’ve played along this far, here’s a photo from my wedding day:
That’s me in the white dress (haha), just after our handfasting. I cannot WAIT to see our professional photos. Sigh.
In case you’re wondering, my groom is 6’2 and the officiant is 6’4. I am 5’2. Hopefully this photo illustrates why I wore the five-inch heels: I’m still short.