Hi Friends, 

Together, we have arrived at Point 3. You should know, I made 3 points because the number 3 is totally a thing in fairytales. Things often happen in threes. According to the Grimms, the evil stepmom tried three times to kill Snow White. Sleeping Beauty is saved by 3 fairies. So many 3s, look into it, it’s worth it.

So you don’t have to reread, Point 1 was that stories change as a matter of course. Point 2 was that stories should change right along side of society. And now we come to Point 3, the permission you needed to do what you really wanted to do (maybe?).

Point 3: Stories Can Change AND Remain The Same AND That Doesn’t Force A Decision

We talked about the importance of options. You can love the animated Cinderella, just as my forever best friend does. And that is okay. You can prefer the live action Disney remake, also, just dandy. You can like neither (but seriously, neither?). AND, you can like both.

And you know what else, you can like the movie and book, even when they are very different. You can like the one first you saw and the newest. There is no real limit here. You don’t have to choose. Joy is a limitless resource (so is misery, so you got options).

Now, I would like to share my favorite example of this: The Wizard of Oz. (This means a slight departure from my intended Disney target, but I think it tells the story, without invoking the Mouse. And if you are not a Disney fan, it is my last shot at redeeming my argument.)

As you may remember from a previous post, I grew up on the Judy Garland version of Wizard of Oz (possibly, more accurately the MGM version, but for reasons that are easy to Google, I want to give the ownership to Judy). I loved the story, I believed in Oz, and I wanted to be Judy. That was the story I knew, not Baum’s version. Judy’s version. I learned the movie before the written tale. And in this case, it was not a folktale, not handed down over the generations, a bona fide modern book. 

And when there was more, I loved more. I loved everything Wizard of Oz. Even the rather bizarre sequel, where Dorothy was much younger, and never sang. 

And then came Wicked, written by the aforementioned Gregory Maguire. I read it in college or thereabouts. And I absolutely loved it. The story gave depth and gravity and nuance to a story I already adored. 

Wicked appealed to young adult me. Someone who was heading out into the world, and starting to see that no story is simple. Real people aren’t villains and heroes. Real people are flawed and kind and cruel and wonderful. And I felt wise and insightful for recognizing the value in a new story I had loved for as long as I could remember. 

And then, there was a new Wicked.  A musical. I had barely learned to love the book, and the musical hit the stage. And I waited eagerly for the touring company to arrive in the Pacific Northwest. And as soon as they arrived, I was there. And used my meager earnings to pay for the good seats. 

I watched. I was engrossed. And it was so different. I had a moment in which I wondered, can I like this? It is so different. I loved the book. And some of the differences felt like a betrayal. But also, it was great. And the next time it was in town, I saw it again. Because I loved it. It appealed to me, the same way it appealed to tiny Kendall. Fantasy, peril, music, all the good stuff. 

There was some cognitive dissonance. Logically, I knew I could like whatever I wanted to like. But also, I felt like I had to add a caveat, the play is great, but the book… Or the book was a good start, but the play…

Then I learned a lesson from a guy I never met. The author of the book, Gregory Maguire, pointed out that he wrote the story based on previous versions of the same story, his was an adaptation. 

And yeah, of course, totally knew that. Kinda foolish to miss that in retrospect. The one I loved first was an adaptation. Just like all of the subsequent versions that I loved. 

Nothing like an obvious revelation. 

Back to the point, both versions can be good. All versions can be good. They don’t have to be, but they can be. There is room for a lot of different perspectives of the same story. And we don’t have to rank order them, or feel that some are more worthy or more authentic or more whatever comparative adjective you can imagine.

I can love Judy and share her wonder with Oz. I can appreciate the maturity and honesty of sober Elphaba in her Oz. And I can revel in the complexity of the relationships in singing Elphaba’s Oz. All of these things can be true, without diminishing any of the others. And yeah, I really excited to see a new version of Wicked, and I hope there are some surprises.

So that is it. 

Genies don’t have to be blue. Snow White doesn’t have to be white. And Mulan can carry on without the help of a diminutive skinny dragon who is a pretender to the Great Stone Dragon legacy. And they can still be legitimate, worthy retellings of great stories. Or, they could be the 1950 Cinderella, and from my perspective, be kinda gross. 

I just ask, when you hear there is a new one, or an adaptation, maybe give it a chance.

Stories have always changed. Stories should change. And nothing prevents us from seeing the value in each version of the same story.

That is it.

They all lived happily ever after.

The end. (Until the sequel, remake, or reimagining)