Apocalypse and Fairy Tale

In the beginning, when darkness covers the face of the screen, a ray of light shines, unveiling a book. As if by some enchantment the jacket turns to uncover the pages of an illuminated manuscript, in which a story is told through words and pictures. But if these opening seconds unfold the iconography of revelation, what here is revelation’s content?

Come to light is a faerie tale romance. As its text is unfolded, the voice-over reads as follows:

(Page 1) Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. (Page 2) But she had an enchantment on her of a fearful sort which could only be broken by (Page 3) love’s first kiss. (Page 4) She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. (Page 5) Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this prison, (Page 6) but none prevailed. (Page 7) She waited in the dragon’s keep, in the highest room in the tallest tower, (Page 8) for her true love, and (in red) true love’s first kiss.

A princess, under a curse, awaits redeeming love. The illustrations flesh out the story. On page one the princess, stars on her blue dress, wanders away from a castle on a hill; her red bodice is bound by threads which crisscross and constrain it. Is her true home a heavenly one, her errant heart ensnared, her captive estate, fallen from the heights? On the page which describes the spell under which the princess is fallen, a red dragon slouches by a golden goblet, from which rises a potion of star-spangled sky. Below on the margins a dragon figure beckons, and beside it rides a woman entangled with a brute. Does a high enchantment, a golden spell, draw the princess upwards towards her home, while other spells, accursed desires, tie her down? On the next page the princess, her eyes closed, is sliced diagonally by shades of blue, the lighter side containing a sun and the darker side a moon. Is the heart of the princess pulled in two directions, to a kingdom of light and a kingdom of darkness?

The princess’ helplessness under her spell is suggested on the next page in which the dragon is wrapped around the castle in which she is locked. That this worm suggests the base desires of the flesh alone is too facile. For how shall we treat of the fact that the dragon’s keep, where the princess is kept, is the highest room in the tallest tower? On 11 enslaved not by the lusts of the flesh, strictly speaking, but by the heart of darkness that twists eros from its proper object? Is the princess in love with herself? Is her love an all-consuming fire? Is the dragon the terrible pride which, seeking to command the soul, surrenders it to the flames of desire and exchanges the palace of love for a dreadful, draconian keep?

But why dreadful? Why is the enchantment under which the princess is put fearful? Is the dragon death? For no knight has been able to rescue the princess from its grip, but each dies trying. Is self-love doomed? Does the princess quake under the dread of her ultimate disappearance, under the spell of death? Is she in love with nothing, the hero that never comes? And still she awaits the appearance of true love’s first kiss! Is self-love a false one to be replaced by the true?

Pictured on the page which announces true love and its first kiss is a lithe young knight clad in regal armor and a royal blue mantle, its train trimmed in gold. He kneels in the position of service to a lord or lady and holds out long-stemmed flowers with green stems, yellow petals, and red, heart-shaped centers, all held together with a long, red ribbon. But his significance perhaps only comes to light through the violence that rends him from the text. As the sound of laughter erupts, a large green hand obscures the picture of the knight and unceremoniously rips the page from the book. Uncovered is a page containing the story’s “ending.” At its apex two winged creatures hold a blue banner, hanging like a stained glass window in a church. On it appears a golden cross, light beaming from its center. Below a king stands with a golden crown. His hands are folded in front of his heart and he is looking down, where his golden feet point. Are they golden because they carry glad tidings? To what end do they direct our gaze?

Following the sparkling toes down, we come upon the backs of two crowned figures, a prince and princess, swathed in golden light. The prince is wearing a blue robe on which a golden star appears. Is he arrayed like a starry sky because he is the prince of heaven? The golden arch upon his robe points upward to the blue banner, the king, and golden cross. The girl by his side his wearing white. Is she purified? Redeemed? Facing the banner with the prince, she stands on the train of his robe, which is trimmed in gold, and bathed like both figures in light. Does the train of his robe fill the temple with glory? But what temple floor does the robe of heaven gird? Is the whole earth filled with his glory? The words on the page say: “The whole kingdom celebrated on their wedding day.” Is the kingdom of this world become the kingdom of heaven’s king? Is the divine marriage of heaven and earth, the redemption of a fallen soul, the beginning of her happy-ever-after?

As another green (left) hand firmly shuts the book the reader’s voice expresses incredulity: “like that’s ever going to happen,” he says, “what a load of sh. . . .” The voice is drowned out by the sound of a toilet flushing as the pan-out reveals a large wooden outhouse with a crescent moon carved in the door—a crack that at certain times allows the light to penetrate to the ogre’s seat, upon which he reads the story. Is the ogre’s outhouse a temple and a throne room? Enchanted space a loo? What mystery there is rent? What magic disenchants? What sadness, what madness, lies at the broken heart of a fairy tale’s mutilation?

Shrek’s sniggering response to the fairy tale declares his unbelief: the story is not true; true love’s first kiss will never happen. Now Shrek does not seem to have a problem with the basic facts of the fairy tale romance’s world. Dungeons, dragons, and captive princesses all appear to seem perfectly normal to him. But what the swamp ogre cannot admit, what drives him to destructive rage, is the heart, the crux of the story, the part about true love, and of true love’s first kiss. But what if anything does fairy tale romance have to do with the revelation of love?