In Praise of Frozen
In my last post, I argued that when an artist makes something, they can intend it to mean something, but they can’t keep it from meaning something other than they intended. I also said that when I engage with art, I don’t actually care what the artist intended to create; I care more about what they did create.
They may be right; the artists who made Frozen may have wanted to communicate a pro-gay message. If that’s the case, I would argue that they didn’t do a great job. In fact, Frozen is a fantastic story about how Christian discipleship addresses our fallenness.
The Gospel of Trying Harder
A quick review of Frozen’s essential characters (in case trivia about pop culture from last decade isn't your thing):
- Elsa: a princess who has magical cold, ice and snow powers (cryokinetic if you want to impress somebody)
- Anna: a princess (Elsa’s younger sister)
- Elsa and Anna’s parents, the king and queen (they die before the story really gets going)
Early in her life, Elsa accidentally harmed Anna with her powers. Anna recovered, but their parents separated Elsa and Anna from each other and closed the castle to their people. Anna didn’t have any powers, so she was just bored, but Elsa had powers that she knew could hurt people, so she was scared, and her parents were too.
This is crazy talk, right? Life doesn’t work if we avoid using any tool, talent or ability that has the potential to harm. Every act of compassion and creation requires risk.
Then Elsa and Anna’s parents died.
And Elsa was alone with her knowledge of her powers. Her parents taught her that her powers had to be hidden. They were shameful. They were bad. So she hid them. She “put on a show” to hide herself.
She didn’t wait to find out whether her sister still loved her. She heard the story of shame her parents had been telling for so many years, and she ran. The Gospel of Trying Harder, of controlling her behavior and being a Good Girl™, had failed her.
If you want to be a good person, hear this film: Turn up the fear however loud it will go, but suppressing yourself will never be enough. The real you will still shine through eventually. If you want to become good, fear won’t get you there.
The Gospel of License
Elsa ran from her sister and her people. She was done with trying to fit in. She didn’t see how she could be who she was and be accepted by anyone, so she ran.
And I think it’s easy to miss what the movie is saying here. The song sounds really victorious and liberating, but Elsa is still stuck in a “kingdom of isolation,” just like the one she left in her kingdom’s capital, Arendelle. Now that Elsa’s alone, she may allow herself to express whatever she chooses, but her life is actually pretty terrible: she plans never to have a relationship with anyone again. Her powers are fantastic, but she is utterly alone forever. She’s just moved from one prison to another. It’s a better prison in some ways, but she’s still locked out of having a meaningful life; she still refuses the risk of being loved by others.
The Gospel of License corrects some of the problems with the Gospel of Trying Harder, but it also creates a bunch of problems. Elsa sings, “No right, no wrong / no rules for me,” but it’s pretty clear that the movie still thinks there is right and wrong. Those who do whatever they want are not good people. They ruin the lives of those around them.
The Gospel of Relationship
Elsa’s kingdom of isolation collapses around her when Hans, an opportunistic prince visiting her kingdom, hunts her down. He plays on her guilt over hurting Anna, and he tries to kill her to take her kingdom.
Hans fulfills the story Elsa has believed most of her life: if people know what you’re really like, they’ll hate you for it. You won’t be safe.
Anna’s sacrifice shows Elsa that she can be loved. Elsa accepts her sister’s love and returns it, and it quickly becomes clear that Elsa’s magic also has great potential for good, too.
It turns out that living in loving, authentic relationship with others gives Elsa the resources she needs to regulate her powers. She can use her powers for good without them controlling her, and when they do get out of hand, she can cope.
Frozen: Accidentally Christian
From beginning to end, Frozen demonstrates that Christian discipleship is the only way to live a good and meaningful life.
You can’t be truly good by trying harder (see Rom. 7:21-24).
You aren’t truly good when you just do whatever you want (see Gal. 5:17).
You are truly good when you are in relationship with Jesus (see Rom. 8:1; 2 Cor. 5:21; Gal. 3:26-28; Col. 3:3); you receive life—you become a different sort of person, a living one—by being in relationship with Him (see Rom. 6:8-11; 2 Cor. 5:17).
I doubt the writers and directors of Frozen were trying to make a film with a Christian message, but it looks like they were trying to make a film that would teach kids how to have a good and meaningful life. They did such a good job that they pointed to Jesus and His Church.
Frozen: Wisdom about Shame
This film gives us wisdom about how people work. When we tell people the story that Elsa was told—“your [temptations, skills, artistic tendencies, differences from me] make you dangerous and unworthy of love, so you’d better hide them”—we set them up to harm themselves and others with their gifts and weaknesses. To live well with our gifts and our flaws, humans need love, not fear.
No matter your temptation, you are worthy of love. That doesn’t mean you should act on your temptation—but you are worthy of love, no matter how tempted you are. In fact, you are worthy of love if you have sinned and need to begin or renew your relationship with Jesus and His body again. That’s actually why He died and rose again.
To become a good person…
to do good,
not harm…
Trying harder will not work.
Doing whatever we want will not work (whether blatantly or behind closed doors).
Our weaknesses and strengths must be organized in the service of love.
And that has to start with vulnerable relationships—with Christ, but also with His body.
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