Aladdin
a film by Ron Clements and John Musker released through Disney's
Buena Vista in 1992
A
stupendous film of joyous excess, much of the pleasure of Aladdin comes from its warped view of reality. But the story
is appealingly straight forward, delineating the burgeoning heroism of a
"diamond in the rough."
Reality in the
movies can be skewed numerous ways, both explicit and implicit. One compromise promotes drama at the expense
of reality. This is not to say that such
films are unrealistic, but when casualty-free short range machine gunplay and
long-lost half-brothers pepper our cinematic divertissements, we are generally
forgiving to the point of ambivalence. Audiences unconsciously ascribe to films
different standards of believability (and morality, for that matter) than are
applied in everyday interactions. In
hopes of a quality evening's entertainment a jaundiced, frightened view of life
may be temporarily discarded to favor the truths of a parallel universe, an
alternate reality. Cartoons are already
removed from reality one step further than live-action films. Aladdin
seems to be caught in an altogether alternate reality.
Aladdin suffers
a major identity crisis for much of the film, wrestling with his "street
rat" heritage while trying on the title of Prince Ali Ababwa to woo the
comely Princess Jasmine, whom, despite her liberated outlook, he fears may still
prefer an archetypal dream-suitor. (This
even though a proto-feminist would probably welcome marriage to an ignorant
monkey-loving pauper of handsome visage, as she could retain some romantic
interest while manipulating her idiot-king and, with time, engineer a silent
coup.)
Eventually,
Aladdin puts his fears of inadequacy behind him and accepts who he really
is. When Genie warns Aladdin just prior
to the final fight with Jafar that he can't help him, Aladdin tells him not to
worry; he'll use his street smarts and "improvise”. And only when he does this is he able to
defeat Jafar and ascend to the royal status of which he had long dreamed and
pondered. Thus the film's primary
message finds expression—be yourself.
One wonders if
Jafar lived by this maxim. As a sage liege
with a jimmy to kill, all the armies of the sultan might be required to quell
the vizier's ardor for self-fulfillment.
But that wasn't necessary, even as it was too late, for Jafar was undone
by his defining characteristic—power-lust.
Looking back, he may have liked to follow Aladdin's example. Once Jasmine's father dies, Aladdin will be
crowned sultan, which is exactly where Jafar wanted to be all along. Aladdin didn't want to hurt anyone on his way
to the palace, and seemed indifferent to the tasks of ruling, but embraced the
luxuries of the harem as a contrast to his ragged life of thievery and food
scraps. Jasmine loved him for it, and
pledged her devotion. Maybe if Jafar had
been as sympathetic he may have wooed Jasmine and realized his dream, instead of
needlessly prostituting himself as a slave to sorcery.
When Aladdin
exploits the unparalleled opportunity afforded him by grasping the ebony lamp near the film's conclusion, Jafar
becomes his prisoner. Somehow Iago is
able to knock around in there as well.
Genie thumps them into a new Cave of Wonders, and all ends well. However, Iago, personified to have human
characteristics (most disturbingly realized in his "Polly want a
cracker?" savage-vengeful diatribe opposite the sultan) may have the wherewithal
to free Jafar by rubbing the lamp; if there is a way to kill Genie-Jafar, it
should be done. And with the issue of
genie power fresh on our minds, let us consider the risks Aladdin takes freeing
Genie. He trusts that this
"phenomenal cosmic power", no longer fettered by eternal servitude,
will act with benevolence and kindness.
It's a huge responsibility undertaken by Aladdin, and who is to say that
genies are governed by a sense of conventional morality? If there is a way to kill Genie, perhaps it
should be done as well.
Some of the
best jokes in Aladdin involve incongruous
references to the present that dazzle and delight by their audaciousness and
impeccable timing. The Blue Genie of the
Lamp morphs into a stewardess, a U-Boat, a cheerleader, a bee with tail aflame,
Rodney Dangerfield, a canine-corralling Scot, a Frenchman-philosophe, and (the
best) a director feeding cues from a script titled "Aladdin."
Suspending our disbelief, we consider that Genie may have power to travel through time, so these little futuristic asides may be an indulgence he uses to keep sane. However, when he thrusts a microphone into Aladdin's face, how does our hero know to speak into it? He's never seen one. He may think it's a weapon. But he gets it right, whether it was a lucky guess or not. At least three incongruities in the film cannot be resolved—the reference to "Dead Sea Tupperware," Abu-as-windup-toy, and the red heart boxer shorts of Prince Akmed; but they're hardly bothersome, and a whole lot of fun—just like the entire film.