FROZEN, Olaf, and Damning with Faint Love
Olaf, the anthropomorphic snowman, is the comedic highlight of
the film. Practically everything he said or did had me in stitches. I don’t
want to exaggerate, but Olaf may be my favorite Disney sidekick, right up next
to Pixar’s Dory.
My
opinion has not changed. Olaf’s antics in Frozen
serve to caress my funny bone like a giddy six-fingered tickler. The prospect
of seeing and hearing more from him in Frozen
2 is exciting.
As
we prepare for another narrative romp with the world’s favorite magical
(literally) princess, I’m reminded of a scene in the original film that has
stuck with me ever since 2013. For reference (and your viewing pleasure), here
is the clip:
I’m
sure you remember this segment. Olaf sings of his eager anticipation of
summer’s arrival, when he’ll “find out what happens to solid water when it gets
warm.” He imagines all the enjoyable activities he’ll participate in,
blissfully unaware of what summer will actually do to him.
Near
the end of Olaf’s musical musings, Kristoff says, “I’m gonna tell him,” and
Anna slaps his arm and retorts, “Don’t you dare!” It’s a funny moment, but it’s
followed several seconds later by a somber coda: Anna, Olaf, and Sven all
eagerly head off on the next leg of their journey, leaving Kristoff by himself,
watching the retreating snowman. After a mournful pause, he says, “Somebody’s
gotta tell him.”
This
moment provides a powerful piece of social commentary (albeit, inadvertently
so). It gives us a peek into the dangers of our culture’s overemphasis on
individualism.
In
the movie, it’s funny when Anna wants Kristoff to let Olaf have his moment. In
real life, it’s tragic when someone “respects” her friend’s pursuit of harm or
detriment simply because “it’s what he wants, and we don’t want to keep him
from being happy.” One example of this would be the growing public approval of
assisted suicide as a humane and loving approach. The so-called right-to-die
position goes against not only a Judeo-Christian ethic, but also a foundational
American ethic: that humans are endowed by their creator with unalienable (unable
to be taken or given away) rights, the first of which is Life. But I digress.
The
issue is not that individualism, autonomy, and personal rights are unchristian
or un-American. The issue is that overemphasizing these ideas leads to
dangerous abuses. When the individual’s wishes are granted deity-level status, the
fences of universal truth get kicked down, leaving us much more vulnerable without
the safeguards and boundaries that once kept us from wandering off to our
detriment (or death). When autonomy reigns supreme, the flimsy criteria of
consent becomes the standard by which everything is judged. Right and wrong
become “right (or wrong) for me.”
Absolute truth becomes “my truth.”
When
this perspective rules our collective convictions, we interact with others with
Anna’s mindset: we don’t want to intrude on someone else’s truth, even if we
know their so-called truth will hinder, harm, or hex them. Such a response is
interpreted by the modern mind as love, but it is most decidedly not love. It is not caring for others as we ought. Rather, it is elevating their
feelings over their fate, their wants over their well-being, their desires over
their destination. It’s like watching an excited child rushing toward a busy
intersection and refusing to get in the way of their pursuit of happiness.
That is indifference. That is moral negligence. That is hatred.
That is indifference. That is moral negligence. That is hatred.
So
sure, we can laugh when Anna slaps Kristoff’s arm so Olaff can finish his
howler of a song. It’s a perfectly-timed comedic moment. But let’s not allow
that small incident to define our moment-by-moment interactions with others.
Let us avoid, as Tim Keller says, “Love without truth [for it] is sentimentality; it supports and
affirms us but keeps us in denial about our flaws.” Instead, let us be brave
and loving enough to seek the true and lasting benefit of those around us. And
let us be willing to receive love and
care from others when our flaws may blind us or our desires may otherwise lead
us astray. The wounds of correction may hurt, but faithful are the wounds of a
true friend.
photo
credit: Loren
Javier via flickr,
CC