Power and Perfection? The Stereotype of the Disney Prince

An oft-discussed aspect of animated film is the role of women, and there has been particular focus on the Disney Princess franchise. Since the very beginning, the princess has raked in the riches for the ever-enduring studio, thriving off the adulations and imitations of little girls, who likewise aspire to be both beautiful and beautified in the hope that they may one day attract a handsome prince. It’s unsurprising, of course, that this has sparked some controversy over the years. Indeed, the female of the species is almost always presented as fey, weak and feeble, with little going for her besides her attractive features and decorated attire, while the male perpetually represents a strong, powerful, flawless vision of masculine perfection… Or does he? I beg to differ. In fact, by focussing on women alone, we have, as a society, collectively conceived a rather myopic view of a much more far-reaching problem, encompassing both male and female genders.

The truth is that the male suffers almost as much stereotyping as the female; it just goes unrecognised as it isn’t universally perceived to be negative. Take Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), the first and fairest of them all. Let’s face it – the prince is hardly a memorable character, despite being the hero of the picture. He’s handsome, yes, but he’s plain, bland and completely devoid of personality, with little distinguishing him from the prince seen in Cinderella (1950). Nearly a decade after the latter, little had changed. The prince in Sleeping Beauty (1959) even becomes entirely mute for the final climactic scenes, which ironically see him take the helm. It’s not until 1989’s The Little Mermaid in which we finally see a prince who at least has some more distinct physical attributes, not to mention an at least semi-developed character, albeit something of a shallow one. The first prince who actually proved to be quite interesting was eventually realised in Beauty and the Beast (1991), mostly due to his extreme character flaws, although it must be said that his human reincarnation leaves a lot to be desired. Yes, upon closer inspection, it does indeed seem that the male hero is almost as flawed a design as your average Disney princess. And nobody seems to care.

‘Feminism’ is without a doubt a ubiquitous term in contemporary media and society, but ‘masculism’ is a movement generally unheard of. As we edge ever closer to equality, however, it does seem as though representations of men have turned a corner in some respects, in terms of animated film at least. More recent features have seen more interesting male characters, with the likes of The Princess and the Frog (2009) and Frozen (2013) demonstrating that the male prince has the potential to be more than a two-dimensional handsome face. More than anything, they show they have flaws, the latter even presenting us with a rather surprising twist, conveying Prince Hans as a somewhat complex and altogether rather dark character – an inversion, in a sense, of the traditional, lifeless stereotype. So it seems, rather like the princess, the seldom spoken-of Disney prince is likewise undergoing a process of metamorphosis, albeit a subtle one.

Yet, despite this positive development, nobody seems to have noticed, or at least it’s yet to be acknowledged. The reason is obvious though. Over the course of the last century, women in cinema have suffered from stereotyped representations far more conspicuous and derogatory than those of men. But that doesn’t mean these stereotypes of men don’t exist, nor does it mean they should be ignored. We need to break down the overly masculinised, ‘flawless’ male hero by giving him character flaws and distinguishing physical features. It may sound contradictory, but a disempowered male might well prove ironically empowering.