The Tale of Despereaux

"I know, I know, there's this rat, see? And this chef, who makes soup..." Stop me if you saw that one already. Despereaux certainly hasn't been helped by studio scheduling that saw another rodent/liquid meal animation appear first. I have to say, though, that this offering is a lot more filling. Roger Ebert reckons the plot is all over the place, and there's some justice in his observations, but what interests me more, here, are the implicit messages of the movie: all the way through runs a meta-narrative about how story-telling, stereotypes, and power combine.

Let's look at the king, first; his domain is famed for its soup, which brings joy to his subjects. Indeed, soup becomes a metaphor for what makes life worth living -when it is banned, the sun ceases to shine, and the rain ceases to fall. I am very much drawn to an equation that makes soup=42: it's a simple, comforting, and nourishing dish, and as I get older if not wiser, that's increasingly what I want from life. Why ban soup? Well, the king's beloved queen espies a rat in her soup (all the obvious jokes are eschewed), which brings about her immediate demise. In his grief, the monarch bans soup.

And rats. Brilliantly, the opening scene of the film has Sigourney Weaver intoning a narration about how rats shun human company, and stick to the shadows, while we see Roscuro the rat enjoying the sunrise and chatting to his human companion. Already, then, we know not to trust all we will hear. This rat can talk, but because "everyone knows" they are vile, no-one considers that he might have an apology or explanation to make for his presence in the royal soup. The parallel is not explicitly drawn - after all, Roscuro's "crime" is in fact an unfortunate accident - but still we have an entire group demonised for the actions of a tiny minority - in this case, a minority of one. Remind you of anything? And the point is made that such demonisation costs the demonisers hard - there is no sunshine, no joy, no rain, no hope of rejuvenation or future growth. In short, no soup.

Ms. Weaver announces that societies only get heroes when they really need them. But then again, we already know she's an unreliable narrator. Cut to Despereaux's point of view from his cot, surrounded by anxious adult mice. Anxiety, we come to learn, is the mouse's natural state of being; these mice are specifically worried by Despereaux's lack of cowering. Mouseworld is depicted as a place of upright, bourgeois citizens. Initially, it seems to be a simple contrast with the anarchy of ratworld (which, it has to be said, is depicted through some rather disturbing "Skull Island" type imagery that implies that non-white society is somehow barbaric), but it soon becomes clear that these "decent" citizens live in oppressive fear of the council, and their unspecified "rules." Despereaux's father is caught in a dilemma - report his son's "deviant" behaviour, or risk it being reported by another informer. The council banishes Despereaux, invoking these same "rules," which are intended to keep society "safe." Amusingly, cats and carving knives are the two terrors invoked by school, but the clear demonstration of how shadowy terrors can be used to justify the removal of liberties is rather less likely to elicit a smile.

In passing, it's worth remarking on the recognition of schooling as a system of inculcating attitudes seen as socially desirable. The headteacher tells Despereaux's parents that "no-one starts out afraid." For that, you need schools... Naturally, I'm drawn to a film that clearly suggests schools suppress an individual's interests and intrinsic motivation.

The really subtle achievement of the film, though, is to undermine Despereaux's own motivation. As part of the attempt to make him a "proper" mouse, he and his brother set out to the library to nibble books; Rather than eating, Despereaux ends up reading a fairy-tale, which fills him with notions of chivalry and heroism. Now, I've argued in these pages before that our violent society is partially sustained by narratives of heroism in warfare. The chivalric values of an old fairy tale become Despereaux's moral code. If I'd actually read Don Quixote, I'm sure there would be a parallel to draw; certainly, Despereaux can get no support from his fellow mice.

He does convince Roscuro, however, who determines to apologise to the princess for causing her mother's death. The hollowness of this chivalric code is shown in two episodes: the princess, despite earlier having mourned the departure of the rats, cannot see past her stereotypes about rats to listen to Roscuro's apology, driving him literally and metaphorically back into the darkness.

Secondly, Despereaux uses it to convince the chef's muse, Boldo - a mixture of vegetable and kitchen utensil - to accompany him in his attempt to rescue the princess. Boldo is rapidly overwhelmed by the rats, who munch away at his vegetable parts. The final episode of Blackadder Goes Forth is often claimed as a touching tribute to pointless sacrifice; Boldo's demise is a more pointed denunciation of the power of tales of heroism to mobilise the young and idealistic to throw their lives away in protection of old power structures.

Given that I only seem to get to the movies with Ms Dynamite-E-e these days, I am fascinated by the implicit messages in children's movies. I am delighted, and amazed, that such subversive messages should appear in a big-budget, mainstream kids' movie. Would that many more would encourage such a critical reflection on the customary narrative arcs we are shown. The kneejerk reaction of an injured superpower, the demonisation of one group or another, and the depiction of a society living in fear are all too readily applicable to the world our children are growing up in. The film not only clearly rejects violence, it exposes the narratives that sustain it. Instead, it lauds tolerance and an openness to forgiveness and dialogue. I doubt we have ever needed the latter qualities more than now, in the face of the shadowy terrors dangled in front of us, and the restrictive and mysterious "rules" imposed upon us in the name of our safety. That soup tastes pretty good to me.