Analysis Of Sleeping Beauty In Terms Of Vladamir Propp’S Morphology Of The Tale
In 1928, Russian folklorist Vladamir Propp published Morphology of the Tale – his seminal work; in it, he sought to break down Russian folk tales into their basic plot components in order to identify their simplest narrative elements. He determined that there were thirty-one story functions and seven dramatis personae – character types – that could potentially be present in each fairy tale (Propp 506-507). From this analysis, one could identify the unique sequence of events in each tale and properly define the meaning of every significant moment in the story. While Propp’s methodology is useful in this sense, I contend that it is too rigid of a measurement, and is responsible for reducing intriguing, complex characters and moments into tropes.
Fairy tales, like any text, change over time; the most important parts of the story when they were written are no longer meaningful today, and vice versa. It is my argument that utilizing a traditional Proppian analysis to read a specific fairy tale eliminates the opportunity to look at the tale in a more contemporary, progressive sense. Reading two “Sleeping Beauty” tales thru a Proppian lens – both the Basile and the Perrault versions – I was taken aback by the extreme examples of female passivity and male dominance; however, I believe that there are multiple moments throughout each text – undefined by Propp – that would actually emphasize feminine power rather than powerlessness. In this essay, I will provide a Proppian analysis of the two “Sleeping Beauty” tales to show the ways in which it normalizes an unchangeable, patriarchal ideology, and contrast this with a more feminist reading of the tales to show the significant aspects that are left out of Propp’s comprehensive methodology. Propp’s analysis tells us the exact way that each character should behave; it is only when we look past the defined elements can we unlock the subversive nature of some fairy tales. Sun, Moon, and Talia, by Giambattista Basile, was the first written version of “Sleeping Beauty”. Before I offer my alternative reading of the text, I will reveal how a Proppian analysis of the tale normalizes and enforces traditional gender roles, structuring Talia as a passive being. The tale begins with the wise men of the kingdom foreseeing that the life of the newborn princess, Talia, will someday be threatened by a splinter of flax. As a result, the king bans the use of spindles in his kingdom (Basile 113). Propp would describe this function as an interdiction – or a forbidding command. This function, according to Propp, must then be paired with the function of violation in order to spring the story into action (Propp 504). Therefore, when Talia becomes older, she violates her father’s commands by seeking out a spindle.
Consequently, Talia’s skin is punctured by the flax and she drops dead (Basile 114). This is significant because Talia’s disregard for her father’s interdiction, or female transgression, is met with punishment. Already at the beginning of the story, then, Propp’s sequential elements of interdiction, violation, and punishment mark Talia’s status as a feminine, passive being. From the beginning of her life, male figures control Talia’s future, and her attempt to challenge that is met with death. Talia’s subordinate role is further defined when Propp’s hero of the story is introduced – the young king. As briefly mentioned earlier, characters in fairy tales can be broken down by Propp into one of seven – or, in some cases, more – dramatis personae. These are essentially descriptions of the typical ways in which character types behave across fairy tales (Propp 502). In Sun, Moon, and Talia, the young king fits all the Proppian qualities of a hero. He bursts into action after the dispatcher character flies into Talia’s window, indirectly saves Talia from death, thwarts the villain, and, of course, eventually marries Talia (Basile 113-117) Because Propp would certainly define the king as the hero, we as readers are complicit in his appropriation of the female body. Upon arriving to Talia’s castle, the king is transfixed by Talia’s beauty and – though it is not explicitly stated – rapes her. This effectively turns Talia into an object, thereby normalizing sexual violence against women.
Thru a Proppian lens, the king is the hero of the story and Talia is the princess; her passivity is amplified, and she is forever indebted to the man that saved her life. It is my belief, though, that there are subversive acts present in Sun, Moon, and Talia that Propp’s methodology is unable and unwilling to define. On the surface, Talia’s catatonic state and consequent awakening is a representation of patriarchal control. Thru a Proppian lens, all of the major events surrounding the beginning of the tale involve male characters making decisions on Talia’s behalf. However, these systematic functions leave out the fact that Talia’s awakening is the result of action from female characters. Nine months after the young king rapes Talia, she gives birth to twins. Despite this, she is not actually alive yet; her children are instead cared for by two fairies who, “put the babies to their mother’s breast” (Basile 114). Talia only wakes up because, one day, her children suck the flax out of her fingernail – something that would not have been possible without the fairies actively caring for the children in the first place. In Propp’s methodology, there is no defined sequence of events for a maternal figure (Propp 507), thus implying not just their unimportance to the story, but, in some cases, their lack of existence entirely. Therefore, a traditional Proppian analysis of Sun, Moon, and Talia would dismiss the role of the fairies and instead credit Talia’s awakening to the king’s actions. While the king certainly played a part in Talia’s pregnancy, he plays no role in Talia’s awakening and the resulting discovery of her own motherhood. This discovery immediately transforms Talia from a passive figure waiting to be defined by a man into an active one directly responsible for the lives of others.
The events surrounding Talia’s rebirth and consequent maternity are marked by moments of female guardianship and strength, thereby emphasizing feminine power, rather than feminine passivity. Charles Perrault’s The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood is similar to Sun, Moon, and Talia in the sense that it has underlying feminist tones that are discredited by Propp. I could again discuss the objectification present in this story, and how Propp’s methodology amplifies it, but what I want to focus on here is how this tale enables female sexual desire while simultaneously precluding male characters that same desire. The first thing to note is that Propp’s hero of this tale is undoubtedly the young prince: he goes to rescue the princess after hearing about her condition from an old peasant, is there when she wakes up, marries her, and helps save her from his evil mother. A unique aspect of this version of the tale, though, is that the prince never actually kisses Sleeping Beauty; she simply wakes up when he comes near (Perrault 126) This is significant because the fact that Sleeping Beauty awakens on her own indicates that she is the one – not the prince – who is granted sexual power in their relationship. A Proppian analysis of this moment, though, would skim over this subversion. Thru the lens of Propp, the basic sequence of events would be the Prince being victorious in his quest to find Sleeping Beauty, and, subsequently, the spell being liquidated. Since there is no function that can define Sleeping Beauty awakening on her own terms, a Proppian reading constructs the moment as if the prince does all the work. To further this point of Sleeping Beauty’s sexual desires being highlighted, on their wedding night, Perrault writes, “The princess, indeed, had not much need of sleep…” (Perrault 127). The text here blatantly emphasizes the disparity between prince and princess in that Sleeping Beauty’s desires are expressed, whereas the prince seems to have none. Sleeping Beauty is not the only female character in the tale who is granted agency.
At the end of the tale, the prince’s mother, an ogress who had been attempting to eat Sleeping Beauty and her children, kills herself by jumping into a vat of snakes (Perrault 129). Though this is an act of suicide, it is significant that the Queen, even in her death, is given the agency to make active decisions. This point would be furthered by the phallic implications of the vat of snakes, but that psychoanalysis is unnecessary in noting that the Queen demonstrates her own, individual strength in her final moments. Like with Princess Beauty’s awakening, though, a Proppian analysis takes away the feminine power present here. Propp would define the last events of the story as the prince returning home, and then the Queen being punished – thereby indicating that it is the prince who kills his evil mother. This analysis brushes over the fact that it is the Queen herself who makes an active decision, rather than letting the prince decide her fate for her. While The Sleeping Beauty in the Woods can certainly be read as a patriarchal tale filled with objectification, focusing on the main plot elements unfairly dismisses the multiple moments of text that prove both Sleeping Beauty and the Queen’s agency. In this essay, I have worked through two different “Sleeping Beauty” tales to show how the texts do not simply relinquish females to a model of passivity, but give them the ability to be active figures as well. Propp’s model, though comprehensive, tells us which moments in the tale are significant, and the exact ways that each character must behave. It leaves no room for fluidity, disallowing readers the chance to analyze characters and events outside of what Propp defines them to be. I have shown, though, that it is the hidden elements of the tale that may be the most important in uncovering meaning today.
In Sun, Moon, and Talia, Talia exits her state of passivity because of female characters, allowing her to become a mother herself; The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood subverts traditional gender roles by having female characters, rather than male ones, express their desires. The “Sleeping Beauty” tale is critically panned for promoting a submissive feminine model. While I understand this perspective, fairy tales go beyond the simplistic standard that Propp provides. The “Sleeping Beauty” texts I have analyzed are by no means models of overt feminism; they are, however, complex stories that deserve more than one interpretation.
