Over the past few days, I have been
thinking a lot about mothers & their roles in our lives, in our popular
culture, in our political arena.
Four threads linked me to this train
of thought – watching a marathon of Shirley Temple movies; reading about the wise
decision to release a brain dead pregnant woman in Texas to move on to a
better place; my Alpha Son Nick turning 30 & my Aunt Janette’s
birthday.
For the past few weekends, a station
that my mother Jean & I watch for vintage movies has featured Shirley
Temple. Now, I have been watching
Shirley Temple movies all my life. I
remember giving away my Shirley Temple doll from my childhood to a toy drive at
Coronado High School one Christmas season.
My favorite Shirley Temple movie has traditionally been “The Little Princess,” a 1939 film based on a 1905 children's novel A Little Princess, by Frances
Hodgson Burnett. While I am quite sure I
saw the film before I read the novel, both were dear to me growing up.
Our classic movie station once again
aired “The Little Princess” & I watched it for the nth time, with the same
reassurance as I feel when I read a novel for the nth time. Knowing how it plays out, still loving every
scene, enjoying the play between viewer & the visual text, the same way I
enjoy the play between reader & written text.
In “The Little Princess,” our motherless
heroine Sarah (played by Shirley Temple) is placed in the care of an exclusive boarding school while her
father goes off to fight a war for the British.
When her father loses his fortune & is believed to be a casualty of
war, Sarah faces the trials & tribulations of finding herself no longer
anyone’s little princess. Much less THE little princess.
Of course, she is restored to her
daddy, order is restored to her universe, she is once again someone’s little
princess. The restoration is facilitated
by a woman, Queen Victoria, who is only the Queen because her father failed to
produce a viable male for the throne.
The next Shirley Temple movie featured
was “Bright Eyes,” a 1934 production unknown to me until recently. “Bright Eyes” tells the story of a little
girl named Shirley, who lives with her mother in a wealthy household.
Shirley’s mother is in America’s equivalent
of “Service” to the family of the house.
Shirley’s father was a pilot who died in a plane crash. On Shirley’s birthday, her mother also dies
tragically, leaving her an orphan.
The film centers around what will
happen to little orphan Shirley – will she remain in the household of her
mother’s employers (who do not want her – but the resident Uncle with
Daddy Warbucks Bucks does) or will she be allowed to live with her bachelor
godfather, aviator James 'Loop' Merritt.
Shirley sings “On the Good Ship
Lollipop,” Loop Merritt reunites with his long lost love, who just happens to
be the beloved niece of the Uncle with Daddy Warbucks Bucks & order is
restored to young Shirley’s lollipop world.
By the time our vintage movie station
aired “The Littlest Rebel” (1935), I was beginning to sense a pattern in little
Shirley Temple Movies. Not a lot of
effective mothers.
Beyond the fact that “The Littlest
Rebel” should not be aired except as a study in how perverse 1930s Hollywood
depicted the issues & the horrors of the Civil War, not to mention a its status as a study in the racist fantasy depiction of happy, helpless slaves on the
plantation – beyond all that . . .
Beyond all that, once again Shirley Temple
plays a little darling, this time by the name of Virginia, affectionately
called “Virgie.” And once again, her
mommy dies.
Virgie’s daddy, who is a
Confederate spy, wants to take her to his sister in Richmond. But though he is aided by a Colonel Morrison
(aka Union Soldier/Father of a Little Girl) in his quest, he is captured by
an Evil Union Soldier (lot’s of Evil Union Soldiers in this film) &
everyone ends up awaiting the execution of Virgie’s daddy & the kind
Colonel Morrison (aka Union Soldier/Father of a little girl) for treason.
Virgie’s “Uncle Billy,” a slave from
her father’s plantation, is encouraged to take Virgie to Washington to beg
Abraham Lincoln for her daddy’s life & the life of Colonel Morrison.
Since Uncle Billy is played by Bill Robinson,
aka Mr. Bo Jangles, Billy & Virgie perform several sweet song & dance numbers throughout the film, including one to raise enough
funds for the trip to Washington.
Honest Abe pardons both daddies &
the film ends with Virgie entertaining the troops of her daddies’ prison with
“Polly Waddle Doodle.” A little southern princess restored to the folds of
patriarchal protection & bliss.
Not a woman or a maternal figure in
scene after scene after scene. And
certainly no maternal figure aided in rescuing Virgie’s daddies.
Then came “Heidi” (1937). Little orphaned Heidi, living contentedly
with her grandfather, is taken by her Aunt (toxic maternal figure) to live as a
companion to Klara, a “spoiled, crippled girl,” whose wealthy father has much
more specific capital than Heidi’s grandfather.
Heidi runs into conflict with Klara’s
family housekeeper (another toxic maternal figure) when she manages to bring
Klara out of her wheelchair & back into the world of charming little
princesses.
The evil mother/housekeeper tries
to sell Heidi to gypsies, but the patriarchal powers that be resturn her to the
protection of her grandfather. Another
little princess restored.
Although “The Little
Princess” was not the first of the Shirley Temple movies, its theme of
restoring the princess to patriarchal protection & perfection resonates in
each of the movies featured in the marathon.
And the message is clear – mothers are
transitory, mothers are to be grieved, but daddies or grandfathers or
godfathers or daddy substitutes will restore every little princess to glory. No mother needed.
Of course, I, like so many women who
were once little girls, know this is not true.
I loved my father Jack. And I have no doubt that he loved me. But somehow I don’t think that he ever
envisioned me as anyone’s little princess.
I think both my parents knew it was a role to which I was neither suited
nor destined.
My father made me feel safe &
loved & protected. More than that,
he made me feel that what I thought, what I felt, what I wanted to be, were all
important. Even when we did not
agree.
As important as my father was &
still is to me, when he died, I did not feel alone. Because there was my mother Jean. And the siblings she & Jack gave me.
I try to imagine how it would be to
enter the fictional lives of any of the characters Shirley Temple played in the
films I write about here. And I find
that not only can I not make that willing suspension of disbelief, but that I
have no desire to do so.
Because mothers do matter. I
think of my Aunt Janette’s four amazing daughters. Their father Ed is still alive & the
importance of his presence & influence on the women each of them became is
undeniable.
But all four of my cousins
mourn the loss of their amazing mother, whose importance & presence &
influence on each of them is equally undeniable.
If it were not for my mother Jean,
Janette’s youngest sister, I would not love books. I would not have given birth to two sons
without her love & care & diligence & support. And I sure as hell would not have survived
myself or by myself for this many years without her.
Mothers matter. The representation (or absence) of mothers in
popular culture & literature matters.
The maternal body, in reality & in representation, matters. Positive representations of Mothers &
maternal texts matter.
I am not through thinking or writing
about the absence or dismissal of mothers & maternal text in popular
culture or in literature. I just don’t
think I will be watching any Shirley Temple movies with any sense of nostalgia
in the near future. Instead, I will be watching & reading contemporary & classic texts & monitoring how past & present representation of mothers influence & fuel our political debate over the role of women.
And I think I will re-read a much loved book from my childhood.
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