Childhood Trauma and Sweet Redemption for Artax
Obviously, my kids have a very regimented schedule—toddler parents can relate. Schedules are our sanity, but also the weighted chains destroying our social lives. But for me—super Type A and a control freak—schedules are my jam. Sure, weekends and vacations can be a bit of a free-for-all, but weekdays are pretty clockwork in my house.
Part of my family’s nightly “calm down” routine is to all sit together and watch a bit of a movie before bed. We get the kids bathed and in their jammies, sometimes we make a “floor bed”—I pull the cushions off our basement couch, throw a fluffy blanket on top and add a bunch of pillows for the boys to snuggle into—and we pick a movie. Usually my older son’s choice, we watch about thirty minutes before we put them individually to bed. Over the next week, we chip away at said movie until its time to pick another. At this point we have the kids so well trained, that they know to head straight to the living room after bath time. Which can also backfire if we’ve been out past their normal bedtimes; “But I need my movie, Mummy!”
So when it comes to our nightly entertainment, we were on a bit of a Disney+ bender for awhile. Like most young kids, the same few movies tend to be requested night after night. My niece had a Cinderella phase for while; I’m pretty sure she watched it four times a day. For the boys, it was Frozen 1 & 2 (or “Blue Anna” as my older son called it), Moana, Cars 1 & 2, and Encanto. Since then, we’ve moved past Disney and jumped into other animated films like Despicable Me (and the subsequent Minion movies), The Super Mario Bros. Movie, and the Sonic. As most of these are semi-recent releases, it’s been fun having a first time viewing experience with our kids—minus the running commentary from my 4-year old, which drives my husband crazy.
But as any parent who cycles through the same three movies on a daily basis will tell you; it’s mind numbing. Especially during some of the musical numbers—legit nails on a chalkboard and headache inducing. And yes, I know it’s not about us and if the kids enjoy it, why should we complain? But at some point, you gotta get off the merry-go-round to save some brain cells.
So in an effort to throw in some variety—and get off Moana for a minute— we started diving into the Disney vault, introducing the boys to the classics. And when I say “classics” I don’t mean The Lion King, Aladdin or Toy Story; classics they are, but I’m referring to the classics from my childhood. I’ll be honest, many have crashed and failed within minutes. An example: The Rescuers. Talking animals, adventure, a cute little orphan girl—who wouldn’t love that? “It’s boringgggggggggggggg. I wanna watch Vampirina!” the response from my son after barely getting past the opening credits. Then my husband was insistent on trying The Great Mouse Detective—his personal favorite. Unsurprisingly, the boys had no interest—which broke my husband’s poor British heart. Then I suggested Peter Pan—HOMERUN! Then the hits kept coming: Winnie the Pooh, Robin Hood, Pinocchio—obsession with crickets renewed—Alice in Wonderland, and the latest Dumbo.
While the kids loved Dumbo, I had a bit of a different reaction. An emotional and unexpected one, considering I’ve seen it multiple times. All due to one scene—and song—in particular. And if you’ve seen it, you know what I’m talking about. Especially if you’re a mother.
During said song, I pulled my son close and felt the tears stream down my face. “Why can’t he get to his mommy? Can’t he climb through the bars?” he innocently asked. As I unsuccessfully tried to explain the impracticality of a baby elephant squeezing through jail bars, another thought struck me; at what point do I introduce my kids to the truly heartbreaking movies of my childhood? Or should I do it at all?
The movies that stuck with me long past the credits and, to an extent, traumatized me.
Now I’m not talking about movies that made you jump out of your skin and induce weeks of sleepless nights. Like Jaws—yeah, I questioned going back in the water—or Nightmare on Elm Street—still haven’t seen the whole thing, still had nightmares for months—were meant to traumatize you. They were marketed as scary movies AND for adults. You had pretty thick skin if you walked out of either of those and weren’t effected in some way.
No, I’m talking about the movies that were specifically made and marketed for children; movies that seemed innocent enough in the 80s and 90s but have left a lasting impact on a whole generation of kids, who are now firmly implanted in adulthood and questioning, “What the fuck was that?” And Dumbo; not even in the top ten.
Let’s narrow this down to my Top 3, shall we?
*Before we go any further, I’d like to preface this by saying I have always been a scaredy cat. I was the kid who couldn’t watch scary movies at sleepovers—my mom would call ahead and warn my friend’s parents. Random movies would freak me out and I’d be up for WEEKS with nightmares. I didn’t see Halloween or Scream until I was in my 30’s and The Labyrinth and The Princess Bride ended with me in tears. Yes: The Princess Bride scared me. *
Now back to your regularly scheduled blog…
#3: Bambi
Apparently, this was the first movie my parents took me to see in the theater. At the ripe age of three, with a big tub of popcorn in my lap and my legs barely reaching the edge of the theater seat, the film started and I was mesmerized by the talking forest creatures. My parents watched me rather than the movie, as they assumed my attention span wouldn’t last the extent of the short animated film. The only slight movement I made was to retrieve popcorn from my bucket and maneuver it into my mouth.
Then Bambi’s mother was shot dead.
Yeah.
I have no memory of this first experience. I do remember the subsequent viewings when we owned it on VHS. Specifically the harrowing sound of the gunshot, the birds that flew up on the screen seconds later, and Bambi’s screams for “Mother! Mother!” Remember it now? Yep…it just replayed in my mind as I typed this. Gut-wrenching. There was always a small part of me that believed she would be back—that she’d come prancing through the forest at the end of the film and all would be set right. Hello! It’s Disney; they practically invented the happy ending.
Obviously, I didn’t quite understand the concept of death. And Bambi’s mother was definitely dead as a doornail—undoubtedly adorning the fireplace mantle of the hunter who shot her—and wasn’t coming back. For some odd reason, parental death and abandonment became a theme of sorts in a lot of animated movies of that era. Land Before Time—another mainstay of my childhood experience—dead mother within the first fifteen minutes. An American Tale; technically no dead parents, but Fievel was separated from his family for the entirety of the movie and assumes they’re dead. The Fox and the Hound; dead mom within the opening credits AND then the heartbreaking scene where Todd’s surrogate, human mother leaves him in the forest. Yup, tears again.
I understand that stylistically, a story needs a catalyst to jumpstart a character’s transformational journey but do we gotta kill off all the parents in a traumatic way? Like Christ…no wonder an entire generation has anxiety and abandonment issues!
#2: Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory
This is very “Jena-specific”—and probably no one can directly relate to it. Like it’s weird. Very weird. This movie scared the crap out of me when I was little; I remember the first viewing—Halloween, I was six—and the scream that emanated from my mouth and my quick exit from the living room. There wasn’t a re-watch session for many years. And if you think you know the specific scene that scared me, you’d be wrong. It’s not the psychedelic boat trip, with Gene Wilder reciting/screaming a poem to his bewildered victims—GUESTS, I mean GUESTS. The imagery in that scene scared a lot of kids. Even a few adults.
No, it was actually a scene from about ten minutes—and one musical number—earlier.
And if the accompanying picture isn’t ringing a bell, I’ll explain: after greedy Augustus Gloop starts scooping chocolate from the river into his mouth, he accidentally falls in and then gets sucked up into the chocolate pipe.
“What’s so traumatizing about that?” you ask. Well…I can’t rightly explain it. Like I said, IT’S WEIRD. But I am 100% positive that my claustrophobia stems from this exact moment. The thought of being stuck inside a very enclosed space, with no hope of escape—until the pressure builds beneath you and you are shot up and into a vat of boiling fudge—is my worst nightmare. And obviously I knew this at a very young age. I’ve since been able to watch this movie in its entirety—without years and years of therapy—but I’d be lying if the hairs don’t rise on my skin the second he goes into the pipe. And to all those who know me on a personal level, this isn’t where my aversion to chocolate stems from.
I JUST DON’T LIKE CHOCOLATE!
#1: The Neverending Story
To this day, this is hands down one of favorite childhood movies. Also one of my favorite books—yes, it was originally a book; I found it once in my local library and was unable to find again until Amazon became a thing and now I’m the very proud owner of. And if you were a kid of the 80’s and 90’s, you probably have vivid memories of renting this classic (and the sequel) from Blockbuster or your local mom-and-pop movie rental. For all you Gen Zers, that was the Millennial version of Netflix. The movie has everything a fan of fantasy will love; racing snails, a Rockbiter, a young boy tasked with a heroic quest to find the cure for an ailing princess, a mysterious force called “The Nothing” that is destroying Fantasia, a Luck Dragon named Falkor, and a little boy from our world who is along for the ride via a magical book.
But it also has one of the saddest, traumatizing scenes committed to modern film.
In this scene—which I’ve included for your viewing trauma—we see our hero, Atreyu wading into the Swamp of Sadness, searching for Morla the Ancient One. The swamp is perilous due to its namesake; any small ounce of sadness that is hidden in your psyche will eventually consume you. Your body becomes heavy and slowly you sink into the swamp’s mud, drowning in its water amongst your sorrows.
Before he treaded into the swamp, Atreyu convinced himself that he would not become its latest victim. But he hadn’t thought of his poor companion, best friend and dedicated steed Artax.
The lead is yanked back in Atreyu’s hand and slowly, he turns to find Artax has stopped in the swamp. We know, without a word uttered, that he’s done for. The next few seconds are awful; the combination of the music, the bubbling swamp water beneath Artax as he begins to sink, the screams of Atreyu, the desperate yanking of the rope lead and the palpable sadness in both the boy and the horse’s face all brilliantly convey the utter hopelessness of this scene.
With Atreyu’s final scream of his horse’s name, its over.
And we—the children watching from the safety of our living rooms—are left in a puddle of tears, clutching our security blankets and favorite stuffed animals. I remember it so well; watching with my cousins and sisters down the shore and not understanding why that beautiful, white horse had to die. Why does anything have to die?
Far too deep a question for any child to utter or even ponder.
Death—the common trauma-inducing denominator—is a pretty heavy topic to be dealt with in a children’s film. Especially if the viewer doesn’t have the mental capacity to properly deal with it. So naturally those same kids clutching their security blankets will either question their parents—who will hopefully explain it in a way that they can understand—or its scares the ever-living hell out of them and they run, kicking and screaming, from said film—like me from Willy Wonka. Movies these days are a bit more sensitive to darker topics; best example, Encanto and how they dealt with the death of Abuelo. The audience doesn’t actually see the death. It’s still sad, but by not actually showing it, children are saved from the fear. Which is easier on the child psyche.
If death is an unavoidable trope in a children film, here’s my little piece of advice; do exactly what The Neverending Story did.
Its the ending Bambi didn’t give me; bring your sacrificial lamb—in NES’ case, Artax—back from the dead at the end of the movie.
And if you didn’t cheer at that part, you have no soul.
Now I know this isn’t truly possible with most stories, but it makes for a killer—hope filled—moment for kids.
So will I show these three movies to my own children?
Probably.
NES for sure—it traumatized me, but still one of my favorite.