Journal articles on the topic 'Walt Disney Company Walt Disney Company'

In 1940, Walt Disney was faced with crafting a message of corporate accountability under duress. His company, the product of his creative genius, had been forced to submit to public accountability. It had a pressing need to raise preferred equity finance for a major expansion during a period of market uncertainty, war, and reported losses. This paper conducts a “close reading” of the “Letter to Stockholders” in Walt Disney Productions' 1940 annual report, the first such letter signed by Walt Disney. The letter's rhetorical features, including metaphor and ideology, are examined in the context of the times. What is revealed is an accountability document skillfully crafted with the exigencies faced by Disney's company firmly in mind. The letter offers suggestive insight to the world as Disney made sense of it. The paper contributes to understanding the use of rhetoric by top management in activities related to aspects of financial accountability and reporting. It also helps to understand better a significant public persona of the 20th century, Walt Disney.

In this contribution we focus on the globalisation of commercial theme parks with Walt Disney Company as the best known case study. After definitions and historical background of theme parks, we analyse the visitors key factors. For the Walt Disney Cie we start with some historical facts, we set up a SWOT-analysis and focus then on Euro Disneyland Paris, the biggest theme park of Europe.

AbstractThe academic assessment of the products of the Walt Disney Company is usually highly negative, drawing out their sexist, racist, and mercenary factors. Although such views are not easily denied, their strong ideology often hides how Disney texts actually operate and how their audiences interact with them. This article explores how recorded music is used in the Disney theme parks to condition audience response, finding a middle ground between an ideological view, exploring the part music plays in social control, and a hermeneutic view, seeing how music functions in articulating and enhancing the experiences in which Disney's guests participate. Disney's Imagineers draw on the language of film music to create a wide variety of narrative musical spaces that give guests the impression that they navigate through these carefully staged narratives as protagonists. Film-musicological models show that guests are encouraged to feel that they control the respective spaces, although filtering the model through critical theory will demonstrate that the spaces can actually be seen as controlling them. While critical theory and structuralist hermeneutics might seem at first like strange bedfellows, analyses of both the narratives themselves and of their social effects can usefully reflect each other, together providing a more nuanced view of Walt Disney World's experiential texts than has been presented either in the academy or by Disney itself.

In this contribution we focus on the globalisation of commercial theme parks with Walt Disney Company as the best known case study.After definitions and historical background of theme parks, we analyse the visitors key factors. For theWalt Disney Cie we start with some historical facts, we set up a SWOT-analysis and focus then on Euro Disneyland Paris, the biggest theme park of Europe.

Case overview –This case contains detailed information about Walt Disney Co. that gives knowledge about its business environment, acquisitions & merger, market position & company performance. This study traces the reporting of the financial performance in Walt Disney as compared to the industry. Walt Disney was established in 1923 with a small sketch but now it is a giant as well as the market leader. Walt Disney is a market leader for a long time and is operating efficiently in the market. This case study illustrates its financial performance by comparing its financial data from 1999 to 2013. The company is growing year over year through acquisitions and mergers with the other firms. The company’s performance has been analyzed through various analysis and financial techniques to elaborate the actual financial condition of the company.The experiences gained from the current study will serve the businesses in entertainment industry through providing help full insights for the tactful strategies & elimination of financial risks. The unique analysis of the market helps to manage business environment. Also play a significant role in the development of a theoretical base for further research studies in the field of finance as well as for learning purposes.Expected learning outcomes – The objective of this case study is to demonstrate the critical success factors particularly in financial terms which provides a solid base for a business group to sustain its competitive position & market leader in the industry. The readers are expected to get numerous benefits from this case study. Like an understanding of calculation & interpretation of basis financial ratios & its implications for investors, creditors & financial managers which strengthen their decision making, and it also help researchers who keen about this industry, significance of various financial analyses for a business organization.

Era uma vez um menino norte-americano de família pobre. Sonhava ser ilustradore pensava que, se você podia sonhar, podia realizar. Direto ao ponto, deu certo.Fundou em 1923 a Walt Disney Company, tão grande e com tantas outras empresashoje, que é difícil descrever seu valor financeiro (...)

Aligning project management to the strategy of a big company is a difficult job. Through Imagineering (the business department and project management program), The Walt Disney Company has done this alignment in an exemplary way. Using a theoretical investigation, this study analyzed the Imagineering as a reference in strategic management of global projects through Disney´s business portfolio, a global benchmarking and with Malmberg et al. (2010) as a company guide. As the main results of the correlations carried out, it was noted that the Imagineers who work in project teams apply tools and techniques with a strategic vision focused on differentiation, generating value, and mixing imagination with technical capacity. The Blue Sky department and its integrated units make possible the creation and deployment of the attractions, the theme parks, hotels, resorts and the Disney sea cruises, demonstrating in this way, to be a highly effective project management office.

When Tokyo Disneyland opened in 1983, the Japanese people welcomed this American cultural export with open arms and open wallets. The decade that followed saw continually rising profits and the highest spending-per-guest of any Disney theme park. In 1992, the Walt Disney Company attempted to emulate this success by opening Euro Disney, only to face financial disappointment and cultural backlash. While some basis for these divergent experiences might be found in the inherent differences between Japanese and European (specifically French) culture, this is by no means a full explanation. Instead, this article places more of the onus on organizations to approach globalization in a more responsive, rather than control-oriented, manner.

In 2013, the Walt Disney Company submitted an application to trademark “Día de los muertos” (Day of the Dead) as they prepared to launch a holiday themed movie. Almost immediately after this became public Disney faced such strong criticism and backlash they withdrew their petition. By October of 2017 Disney/Pixar released the animated film Coco. Audiences in Mexico and the U.S. praised it's accurate and authentic representation of the celebration of Day of the Dead. In this essay, I argue that despite its generic framing, Coco mobilizes many elements of horror in its account of Miguel's trespassing into the forbidden space of the dead and his transformation into a liminal figure, both dead and alive. Specifically, with its horror so deftly deployed through tropes and images of borders, whether between life and death or the United States and Mexico, Coco falls within a new genre, the border horror film.

Purpose The concepts of corporate social responsibility (CSR) and their link to the United Nations sustainable development goals (UN SDGs) are increasingly important, however prior research on this topic is limited, especially in the hospitality industry. The purpose of this paper is to contribute to greater knowledge on the subject and determine how other hospitality organizations should move forward the two topics were researched using a framework relating to the triple-bottom-line concept with reference to case studies of three hospitality corporations – Hyatt Hotels Corporation, Scandic Hotels AB and the Walt Disney Company. Design/methodology/approach Most large hotel corporations now report their CSR activities on their corporate websites, which is the most accessible format to find information on activities, and so secondary research was conducted to draw on this. Additional secondary research was undertaken from October 2019 – May 2020 using a number of journal databases including Sage Journals, Emerald Journals, the E-library of the UNWTO and Taylor and Francis Academic Journals. Third-party sites were also leveraged including CSR-Hub, The United Nations and Forbes. Findings While all three corporations mention their efforts in relation to the sustainable development goals, commitment on what activities contribute to which goals was difficult to discern. Furthermore, while there are some activities that all three contribute to, there are many best practices that could be shared across the industry. Originality/value Though the research was limited to secondary sources, the topic is largely unresearched and has the potential to suggest best-practices available more widely across the industry.

Salvador Dalí claimed that he made his whole life “a work of alchemy.” He saw in alchemy the principle of metamorphosis and “the transmutation of bodies.” Carl Jung recognized “imaginatio” as the key to alchemy. As Patrick Harpur suggests: “The Work takes place in a realm intermediate between mind and matter. It is a daimonic process, a ‘chemical theatre’ in which processes and psychic transformations interpenetrate.” The alchemist does not simply work on matter, but on the self. In Dalí’s “paranoiac-critical method,” objects similarly seem to exist in an “intermediate realm between mind and matter”; they are animated presences, with a life of their own. The Dalínean double-image is itself a kind of alchemical magic, invoking the “transmutation of bodies.” In 1946, Dalí began work for the Walt Disney Company on a short film, Destino. This would be, he claimed, the “First Surrealist Cartoon.” The appeal of animation for him may have been based in part in what Eisenstein termed “plasmaticness”: the “ability to dynamically assume any form.” Animation, then, may be seen as a kind of “chemical theatre.” As a “realm between mind and matter,” it also functioned for Dalí as a form of mundus imaginalis, in which he could engage with the “obsessing” images in his psyche. In Destino, Dalí invoked the alchemical process as a journey to tranfiguration and psychological “rebirth.” The film was not completed in his lifetime; this account is based on the original storyboards which he produced.

In mid-1999, the Walt Disney Company and the Hong Kong Government were involved in intense discussions about the possibility of building the Hong Kong Disneyland theme park on Lantau Island. This case presented detailed information about the proposed theme park and the associated decision making process with a particular emphasis on sustainable development. It also lays out the characteristics of the Hong Kong Government and Hong Kong people that might have played a role in decision making. The case includes A and B parts concerning corporate and government decision making. It firstly summarizes the negotiation process between Disney and the Hong Kong Government, and considered the environmental impact on Hong Kong. The difficulties faced by governments in making decisions about this highly visible large-scale project are described. It then explains the rationale of the government decision, which illustrates how governmental structure and culture affect the decision making process. In the end, it showed improvements in Hong Kong Disneyland with respect to sustainable management and development.

Research has shown that some children’s stories may contain subversive cultural messages and that, by consuming them, children are unconsciously socialised and unwittingly influenced to accept cultural norms relating to, among other things, gender roles, race relations, power structures and class distinctions. This process of socialisation is especially effective through the medium of children’s literature, especially those stories that make use of generic elements such as the archetypes found in fairy tales, and the fairy tales re-imagined and produced as films by the Walt Disney Company. A literature review confirms that gendered messages are present in the entertainment provided to children and highlights the most universal preconceptions of feminine roles in Western society. To determine if these gender stereotypes have evolved in recent years, the depiction of a beloved children’s character, the fairy Tinker Bell, first imagined by author J.M. Barrie and later refashioned by Disney to become part of our collective imagination, is explored. A close analysis reviews the depiction of Tinker Bell in three different texts: Barrie’s 1911 novel, Peter Pan , Disney’s 1953 animated classic of the same name, and the first instalment of Disney’s more recent series of movies in the Fairies franchise, Tinker Bell (2008). The results indicate that the original Tinker Bell is a nontraditional female portrayed as a negative stereotype, but that the latest version of Tinker Bell is a non-traditional female portrayed in a positive manner. This shift in emphasis may indicate that gender stereotypes in the 21st century are consciously being reviewed.

In recent years, virtual play spaces have become enormously popular among young children around the world. As yet, though, there has been relatively little research into the ways in which children interact on such sites and what they learn in the process. This article describes a study of kids’ experiences with one such virtual world, Club Penguin, created by the Walt Disney Company, which was for many years a leading online destination for children ages 5-10. The author focuses specifically on the commercial nature of Club Penguin, concluding with suggestions for parents, teachers, and researchers as to how they can help today’s young children to become conscious customers and responsible digital citizens.

The inspiration for this activity is the mathematics videotape Donald in Mathmagic Land, originally produced as a movie by the Walt Disney Company in 1959. Anticipating current music videos and some commercials, the images are tantalizing and rapid, encouraging some teachers to show it to students as early as third or fourth grade. The mathematical presentation, however, is deep and brilliant, so I had a natural desire to slow it down and make it truly accessible to students. I generally show the videotape to students just after we complete the exercises presented in this article, and several have told me that it was the third or fourth time they had seen it but the first time they understood it.

Disney stories and characters have delighted international audiences for nearly nine decades, but as The Walt Disney Company has sought to reach new markets in the twenty-first century, Disney's live theatrical productions have served a unique and powerful ambassadorial function in which body and representation play vital roles. In 1997, Julie Taymor's production of The Lion King, which is inspired by several cultural traditions, opened on Broadway to critical and popular acclaim. The musical has since been translated into six languages and has played in over a dozen productions around the world.While the characters are animals, The Lion King is a human fable, and Taymor was determined that audiences see the fictional animals and real, live humans at the same time–what she termed the “double event.” With her unique vision as a guide, she enlisted an international creative team: film co-director Roger Allers and co-writer Irene Mecchi as book writers, Rhodesia-born Brit Richard Hudson as set designer, Michael Curry as puppet co-designer, Garth Fagan as choreographer, and a handful of diverse composers and lyricists to create the score–Elton John and Tim Rice, Lebo M, Hans Zimmer, Mark Mancina, and Taymor herself.Despite consciously postmodern, internationalist, and postcolonial aims–which have earned both economic and political rewards–the creative process, product, and reception have not arrived without challenges, complications, and criticism. This paper examines how The Lion King attempts to harness animal, racial, theatrical, and commercial power for diverse audiences in a global age.

Measures of media concentration typically rely on two primary indices: CR4 and HHI. These indices are based on the market share of the top firms as well as the share of total revenues for top firms. These indices only serve as an adequate representation of media concentration sectors if one assumes that the top firms are competitors. However, these measures do not adequately capture the degree to which top firms work together through joint ventures or other shared interests. By using network analysis, this article illustrates the joint ventures that exist among the five largest media firms (Comcast, the Walt Disney Company, National Amusements, AT&T/WarnerMedia, and Fox/News Corporation). We argue that this type of analysis can supplement existing measures of media concentration and may also be useful for policy debates, particularly in reviews of proposed mergers.

Resumo Os estudos relacionados ao Bem-Estar no Trabalho iniciaram-se na década 60. A partir daí, o interesse pelo tema tem progredido e avançado continuadamente. Pesquisadores e estudiosos corroboram que há uma relação positiva entre Políticas e Práticas de Gestão de Pessoas (GP) e Bem-Estar no Trabalho (BET). Esta pesquisa propôs-se a identificar esta relação de acordo com a percepção de 112 colaboradores da empresa Walt Disney World Company. O instrumento foi um questionário aplicado online composto por duas escalas validadas cientificamente: a de percepção das políticas e práticas de recursos humanos (EPPRH) e a de bem-estar no trabalho (EBET). Em relação aos fins, este estudo é descritivo e explicativo, e quantitativo quanto à sua natureza. Para a análise dos dados foram utilizadas técnicas estatísticas, tais como análises descritivas e de correlação. Os resultados sugerem que existe correlação positiva, em sua maioria, fortes e moderadas, entre as variáveis Recrutamento e Seleção, Envolvimento, TD&E, Condições de Trabalho, Avaliação de Desempenho e Competências, Recompensas, e as variáveis afetos positivos, afetos negativos e realização pessoal. Estes resultados são um diagnóstico para os gestores da empresa estudada poderem aprimorar suas práticas de GP com o objetivo de melhorar o bem-estar de seus colaboradores.

Customer experience is the latest battleground for business. Not only is customer experience management (CXM) one of the most promising approaches to marketing, but some observers also contend it is the future of marketing. While practitioners have embraced CXM for its considerable promise, marketing academicians have lagged in developing and disseminating CXM knowledge. Indeed, considerable evidence suggests that customer experiences are falling far short of company aspirations and customer expectations. To further CXM understanding, we conducted a three-credit undergraduate marketing course on CXM. Given the inherent experiential nature of CXM, we enhanced student learning by including a field immersion component. Specifically, on-campus class sessions were supplemented with a weeklong field immersion at Walt Disney World Resort. Empirical and qualitative evidence indicates that our approach fosters CXM understanding. We conclude by offering potential adaptations to our approach, including teaching CXM within existing coursework, curtailing the field immersion component, and making modifications for a graduate-level course.

This article develops the notion of “sustainable citizenship” and distinguishes it from more conventional forms of citizenship. The authors formulate indicators of the presence of sustainable citizenship among individuals, in corporations, and in nongovernmental organizations and apply those indicators in two empirical studies. The first study is of institutions (Fairtrade International, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, and The Walt Disney Company), and the second is of individuals, particularly those who practice political consumerism and vegetarianism. The studies show that citizenship is expanding in three significant ways: by addressing concerns about past and current injustices and their effects on the future (broadened temporal dimension); by addressing responsibilities worldwide, not just within one’s country (broadened spatial dimension); and by adding a material dimension that emphasizes responsibility to nature and animals. The studies find that the development of sustainable citizenship is taking detours. In particular, self-interest often dominates its nonreciprocal or other-regarding concerns.

After the founding of the Walt Disney Company, animation becomes something necessary in our everyday life. The real power why the animation bigger is the storytelling. Story is the main key why animation is loveable by audiences. This writing will be focusing on the behind reason why the story is important in animation and will be giving some examples the success story of some animation which have a great story to tell. The design methodology focuses on data research, market research and literature book. This writing is a preliminary research because from the author concern, there are not many writings debating whether which part in the development will be focused on to developing some animation projects. This writing hopefully will help people who want to build some animation projects and will guide them to make decision because in order to build some animation project there will be a massive effort to be conducted. Hopefully, in the future, there will be more animation produced from Indonesian. To be an unforgettable work, it must have a great story.

Purpose – The following article is a “Q & A interview” conducted by Joanne Pransky of Industrial Robot Journal as a method to impart the combined technological, business and personal experience of a prominent, robotic industry engineer-turned successful business leader, regarding the commercialization and challenges of bringing technological inventions to market while overseeing a company. The paper aims to discuss these issues. Design/methodology/approach – The interviewee is Dr Martin Buehler, Executive R & D Imagineer, at Walt Disney Imagineering. Dr Buehler is a global expert in robot manipulation and mobile robots and has led the innovative R & D and product development for some of the world’s top robot organizations. In this interview, Dr Buehler shares some of his personal and business experiences of his 25-year journey. Findings – Dr Buehler studied electrical engineering at the University of Karlsruhe and received the MSc and PhD degrees in electrical engineering from Yale University, and after a PostDoc at MIT’s Leglab in locomotion, he became a professor at McGill University in 1991, with tenure since 1997. His research focused on dynamic grasping, direct drive motor control and legged robots. From 2003 to 2008, Dr Buehler was Director of Robotics at Boston Dynamics, and he was Director of Research at iRobot Corporation from 2008 to 2011. He served as VP and General Manager of Hospital Robots for Vecna Technologies from 2011 to 2013 and Senior Director of R & D and Director, R & D Center Munich for Covidien from 2013-2015. Originality/value – Dr Buehler is best known in the academic world for his expertise in “intermittent dynamical” robotic tasks, such as dynamic manipulation and dynamically stable legged locomotion. His research led to multiple breakthroughs in legged robot projects like BigDog and RHex. In the corporate world, Buehler’s passion is to translate robotics technologies into successful product solutions. He does this by the implementation of key management strategies including Scrum and rapid and systematic experimental iteration. In addition to holding several patents, Dr Buehler is an Advisory Editorial Board member for the International Journal of Robotics Research and formerly served for ten years as the Associate Editor for the Journal of Field Robotics. Dr Buehler is a bestowed IEEE Fellow and was the recipient of the prestigious Robotics Industry Association’s 2012 Engelberger Award for Technology.

Val d’Europe c’est une nouvelle ville réalisée en Région Parisienne, sur la base d’une convention PPP (Partenariat Public-Privé), signée en 1987 entre l’Etat Français et Euro Disney Associés filiale de The Walt Disney Company. La ville prévue initialement pour 60 000 habitants, compte actuellement 35 000 et reste la dernière composante d’une ville linéaire de quarante kilomètres – Marne-La-Vallée, satellite de Paris. La ville a été réalisée initialement en tant qu’une ville « service » du plus grand complexe touristique d’Europe – Euro Disney, accueillant 15 000 000 millions de visiteurs par an, mais progressivement elle est devenue un organisme indépendant et multifonctionnel. Depuis plus de 20 ans Val d’Europe se développe harmonieusement, son territoire est passé de 5 000 à 35 000 habitants et de quelques dizaines d’emplois agricoles à 27 000 emplois diversifiés. La méthodologie du développement de la ville proposée par Euro Disney a épousé les méthodes de travail d’EPA (Etablissement Public d’Aménagement), riche de 50 ans d’expérience dans la réalisation des villes satellitaires autour de Paris. La grande force qui guide les deux équipes réside dans la vision commune de la ville et dans leurs capacités à mettre leurs expériences au service du territoire. L’objectif commun des tous les acteurs publics et privés étant la création d’une ville où la dynamique économique rime avec la qualité de la vie et l’écologie. Dans la recherche de la vision du Val d’Europe, les architectes et les urbanistes ont décidés de s’inspirer de ce que Paris et l’Europe ont fait de mieux dans ces domaines. La ville neuve est composée de quartiers à l’échelle humaine, dont les limites sont fixées par le temps de marche. La communication piéton est la base de la circulation dans la ville, les voitures pour lesquelles les parkings sont prévus dans les sous-sols des bâtiments sont tolérées, mais leur circulation est limitée. La conception et la réalisation de la ville a été conçue par des urbanistes et des architectes américains, luxembourgeois, grecs, italiens et français. Afin d’assurer la qualité des espaces publics et semi-publics, tous les bâtiments ont étaient réalisés suite aux concours promoteurs-architectes. Ce projet urbain d’une indéniable qualité a été réalisé grâce à un art de compromis, où dans l’intérêt général, tous les acteurs ont accepté la réalisation de leurs visions architecturales dans le cadre de la même composition urbaine. Ils ont tout simplement décidé d’agir de concert, comme un orchestre, dans lequel les musiciens interprètent la même partition sur différents instruments.

The concept of the learning organization is studied and the basic principles of its construction and operation are highlighted in this paper. The author emphasizes the need for constant updating of knowledge and professional skills in adulthood, in accordance with the concept of lifelong learning, recognized by UNESCO as a guarantee of sustainable human development. Based on the learning organization characteristics proposed by P. Senge (improvement of personal skills, shared vision, group learning, mental models and system vision), a new definition of this type of organization is derived, and it is compared with the definitions of other researchers. Examples of foreign companies that are appropriate to this definition (McDonalds, Walt Disney Company, Coca-Cola, Procter & Gamble, General Electric, etc.) and peculiarities of the learning organization concept introduction in Ukrainian realities are analyzed. The main ways, forms and tools of corporate learning depending on the goals and size of the enterprise – from creating its own educational platform or collaboration with leading educational institutions or service centers to webinars, trainings and distance training of the staff are considered. The author's vision of the life cycle of the learning organization, which in contrast to the life cycle of the normal organization do not consists of 5 phases (formation; growth; stability; decline; transformation), but of 4 (formation; growth; stability and transformation as the ability to respond to external and internal challenges facing the organization) is presented in this paper. Peculiarities of personnel management at such enterprise are offered (special attention is paid to planning of personnel career; flexible and transparent motivation system promoting the introduction of changes and innovations; formation of a certain corporate culture in which training and education are recognized as positive phenomenon at all levels of organizational structure; education of loyalty to the organization among the staff as guarantee of the personnel outflow reduction; attitude to personnel as talents, realized or unrealized, etc.). Prospects for increasing the number of learning organizations in Ukraine are analyzed in this paper.

The article is devoted to the study and comparative analysis of the stock quotes dynamics for the world’s leading companies in the IT sector and the entertainment industry. Today, these areas are developing the fastest and most powerful, which attracts the attention of investors around the world. This is due to the rapid development of digital communication technologies, the growth of intellectualization and individualization of goods and services, and so on. These spheres have strong development potential, but the question to how their companies’ stock quotes respond to the impact of such a natural but crisis phenomenon as the COVID-19 pandemic remains open. Based on the nonlinear paradigm of the financial markets dynamics, the paper considers and conducts a comprehensive fractal analysis of the quotations dynamics for six leading companies (Apple Inc., Tesla Inc., Alphabet Inc., The Walt Disney Company, Sony Corporation, Netflix) in this area before and during the COVID-19 pandemic. As a result of the application of the rescaled range analysis (R/S analysis), the presence of the persistence property and long-term memory in the stock quotes dynamics for all companies and its absence in their time series of profitability was confirmed. The application of the method of sequential R/S analysis made it possible to construct fuzzy sets of memory depths for the considered time series and to deepen the analysis of the dynamics due to the quantitative characteristics calculated on their basis. Taking into account the characteristics of memory depth in the dynamics of quotations made it possible to conduct a comparative analysis of the dynamics, both under the influence of the natural crisis situation and in terms of investing in different terms. The peculiarities of the delayed profitability dynamics of quotations for each of the companies are also taken into consideration and compared. The developed recommendations can be used in investment activities in the stock market.

Subject area Management of technology, technological innovation, business innovation and new product development, innovation, design and strategy, entrepreneurship innovation and leadership strategic planning of technological innovation. Study level/applicability MBA. Case overview KidZania® is a Mexican company of family entertainment centers, founded in 1996 by Luis Javier Laresgoiti Fernández and fully developed by Xavier López Ancona. An innovative concept inspired in a fusion of nursery and theme park, KidZania®, brings together strong brands as partners to support their own and offer a complete entertainment and educational experience to kids between two and 16 years old. A unique business model, involvement of experts and a committed board of directors has been the key to the innovation of KidZania®. Its managers, by 2011, operate eight centers – two in Mexico, two in Japan and the rest in Indonesia, Portugal, United Arab Emirates and South Korea – and have plans to expand to more countries in Asia, Latin America and Europe in 2011 and finally to the USA. The future of KidZania® seemed bright, and the manager of the company believed that the growth appeared unstoppable because the purpose was to grow on 100 percent. The strategy appeared clear: dominate in the emerging and consolidated markets (big cities) in order to strengthen its competitive position and then, enter the US market with all the muscle and take the lead in the biggest market. But what was the competition going to do about it? What will the moves be for big players like Walt Disney – which had revenues of US$38.06 billion (USSEC, 2010), for example? Will the competitors try to buy the new entrant in order to build it up or to disappear it? Or will they try to imitate KidZania®? What would be the future of this new edutainment business model? Expected learning outcomes This case has been used in executive and MBA courses in creating and sustaining innovation, recognizing disruptive technologies, and in identifying effective methods of marketing a new innovative business model. Instructors can use the case to achieve the following two learning objectives: the KidZania® case helps students to refine their understanding of the model of disruption. They are forced to look closely at the product/service and decide whether it is a disruptive innovation or a sustaining innovation. This close examination becomes a helpful tool as students think about what decisions they would make to secure the success of the KidZania® in the entertainment market. The KidZania® case allows students the opportunity to develop their knowledge and understanding of the model “skating to where the money is”. Based on their analysis of the company and product students, must decide whether the KidZania® is a business that will produce sustained revenue and is worth investing in. Supplementary materials Teaching notes are available for educators only. Please contact your library to gain login details or e-mail support@emeraldinsight.com to request teaching notes.

As the two articles following this amplify, whatever one's views of its intrinsic merits, J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan is open to a multiplicity of readings, and (notably since the RSC broke the mould in 1982) of stage interpretations – not to mention its co-option into Walt Disney's cartoon canon. Simon Trussler takes the play for a spin in such unaccustomed company as Romeo and Juliet and the almost contemporaneous ‘tragedy of childhood’ by Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening, exploring the theme it sustains of betrayed childhoods, surrogate parenting, and changing attitudes towards grown men sleeping with small boys – a magical experience for Barrie, but much less comfortable for the singer Michael Jackson in his ranch called…Neverland. Simon Trussler is Co-Editor of New Theatre Quarterly and presently Professor and Senior Research Fellow at Rose Bruford College. His numerous books on drama and theatre include Shakespearean Concepts (Methuen, 1989), the award-winning Cambridge Illustrated History of British Theatre (1993), The Faber Pocket Guide to Elizabethan and Jacobean Drama (2006), and Will's Will: the Lives and Last Wishes of William Shakespeare (National Archives, 2007).

Collection of cumulus enclosed oocytes from excised ovaries has become an ambitious task in recent years as a result of a decrease in slaughtering of horses because of ethical and political reasons. This increases the demand for highly efficient procedures to collect the maximum amount of oocytes out of these ovaries. The main objective of this study was to compare the efficiency of 2 oocyte recovery procedures. Oocyte aspiration is a quick and easy-to-perform technique with one potential limitation: the loss of the cumulus oophorus through suction forces. Recovery by follicular scraping is a more laborious procedure, but seems to be superior with regard to collection of cumulus-enclosed oocytes. This study was conducted to figure out the most efficient technique to collect high-quality equine cumulus-enclosed oocytes. The study was performed with ovaries of 32 slaughtered mares on 9 experimental days. All follicles of both ovaries from each mare were randomly allocated either to oocyte recovery by aspiration (15 mares) or by scraping (17 mares). Follicular scraping was performed with a bone curette after incision of the follicle with a scalpel blade, and follicular fluid was evacuated in watch glasses. After scraping, the follicles were flushed with PBS. Aspiration was performed using an 18-gauge needle with Tuohy bevel on a syringe. In a first step, follicular fluid was aspirated using scraping movements with the needle on the follicular wall. The empty follicular cavity was flushed once with the follicular fluid, the aspiration fluid was transferred to Falcon tubes and the aspirate settled for 10 min. Sediment of aspirated follicles was transferred to culture dishes, oocytes were searched under the stereomicroscope, and scraped follicles were searched directly in the watch glasses. Oocytes were classified in oocytes with compact cumulus oophorus, oocytes with expanded cumulus oophorus, oocytes with corona radiata only, denuded oocytes, and degenerated oocytes. Recovery rates were analysed for the 2 methods with special regard to oocyte classification. The overall recovery rates were similar for scraped (53.74%) and aspirated (52.70%) follicles. The 2 methods performed differently with respect to oocyte qualities. Significantly more of the oocytes recovered by scraping were collected with compact cumulus oophorus (72.16%) than in the aspiration group (33.77%; P = 0.004). Both methods collected similar amounts of oocytes with expanded cumulus oophorus (10.12% by scraping, 7.79% by aspiration). Using the aspiration more oocytes presented denuded (24.67 v. 6.33%, P = 0.08). The results of the presented study confirm that the scraping procedure is superior with regard to collection of cumulus-enclosed oocytes. These results prioritize follicle scraping for ex vivo collection of oocytes for research purposes because cumulus cells may support oocytal well-being during maturation and represent a unique biomarker source for the developmental competence of their corresponding oocytes.

Este artigo tem como base estudos recentes a respeito da Walt Disney Company que utilizaram uma variedade de estratégias teóricas e metodológicas para questionar alguns mitos que rodeiam esta companhia, seus produtos e seu criador, Walt Disney. A discussão considera cinco premissas que são tipicamente feitas sobre a Disney: 1. Walt Disney era um gênio criativo que foi responsável pelo sucesso da companhia; 2. A Disney Company é, de alguma maneira especial e única, diferente de outras corporações; 3. A Disney é somente para crianças; 4. Os produtos da Disney são inofensivos, seguros e não tendenciosos; e, 5. Todos adoram a Disney. Os argumentos que desmontam estes mitos são baseados em uma variedade de estudos de diferentes disciplinas, mas que se apóiam fortemente na integração da economia política, análise crítica da cultura e pesquisa de recepção.

The strategic and tactical problems of managing the operations function in a service environment can be examined through the context of the Walt Disney Company (DIS) opening Shanghai Disneyland. The company and its investors were excited about the Shanghai opening for a good reason: demographics. The resort would be located in the Pudong district of Shanghai, easily the wealthiest of all of China’s districts. A massive 330 million people lived with a three-hour driving radius of the resort site, compared with 19.6 million who lived within the same radius at DIS’s most profitable park, Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. Still, risks remained. Construction complications had delayed the opening almost a year longer than expected and cost overruns and alterations had increased the final price tag of the project. The Chinese economy had also hit a rough patch following the Chinese stock market slump in the summer of 2015. With the world watching, could the classic Disney theme park experience be delivered with the right cultural balance to appeal to its largely Chinese customers? Could DIS get it right?

“What kind of culture does Walt Disney Company (WDC) want to create? This case uses the experiences of a young visitor to one of WDC's resort hotels to set the stage for an analysis of selecting, hiring, training, and retaining and how those practices are governed by the culture of a large American company. The situation provides an opportunity to explore human resource policies, organizational design as well as how all those elements reinforce the culture.The case opens with an interaction between a young Animal Kingdom Lodge guest and an employee (or cast member as the company refers to employees). There were many different ways the exchange could have unfolded yet the experience was magical for the youngster. What made this exchange a memorable experience for this young guest? Would Walt Disney have been surprised?”

What kind of culture does Walt Disney Company (WDC) want to create? This case uses the experiences of a young visitor to one of WDC’s resort hotels to set the stage for an analysis of selecting, hiring, training, and retaining and how those practices are governed by the culture of a large American company. The situation provides an opportunity to explore human resource policies, organizational design as well as how all those elements reinforce the culture.The case opens with an interaction between a young Animal Kingdom Lodge guest and an employee (or cast member as the company refers to employees). There were many different ways the exchange could have unfolded yet the experience was magical for the youngster. What made this exchange a memorable experience for this young guest? Would Walt Disney have been surprised?

In 1989, the Walt Disney Company financed its major European theme park and real estate development using a variety of financing tools and techniques that, when bundled together, amounted to a project financing. The case recounts the details of this financing and invites students to evaluate the financing from various standpoints, including those of the Walt Disney Company, the government of France, European equity investors, and European banks. The resulting opinion about the attractiveness of the project ultimately hinges on beliefs about European market demand for an American-style theme park. The case may be used to exercise students' skills in valuation analysis, to illustrate techniques for financing major real-property projects, and to explore the creation and transfer of wealth in such projects.

The Walt Disney Company has a marred past; the products that powered its explosive growth to an entertainment conglomerate depicted grossly racist stereotypes. Seeking to wash its hands of this controversial past, Disney released The Princess and the Frog (TPF), its first film featuring a Black protagonist. The film deserves recognition for its efforts to bring representation to Black Americans. But lurking in Disney’s redemption project is a noticeable revisionist whitewashing of American history. The film’s plot begins when Tiana, short on money and seeking to rescue her incipient dream to open a restaurant, accepts a prince-transmuted-frog’s offer to reward her for kissing him. When she compromises her unyielding adherence to “hard work,” she transforms into a frog. The film’s very narrative structure is built on what Saidiya Hartman labels “burdened individualism,” a discourse that demands Black Americans ceaselessly pursue market ascendency while stripping them of the tools to do so.

The Walt Disney Company has been creating magical fairy tales since the early 1900s and is a trusted brand synonymous with wholesome, family entertainment (Wasko). Over time, this reputation has resulted in the Disney brand’s huge financial growth and influence on audiences worldwide. (Wohlwend). As the largest global media powerhouse in the Western world (Beattie), Disney uses its power and influence to shape the perceptions and ideologies of its audience. In the twenty-first century there has been a proliferation of retellings of Disney fairy tales, and Kilmer suggests that although the mainstream perception is that these new iterations promote gender equity, new cultural awareness around gender stereotypes, and cultural insensitivity, this is illusory. Tangled, for example, was a popular film selling over 10 million DVD copies and positioned as a bold new female fairy tale character; however, academics took issue with this position, writing articles entitled “Race, Gender and the Politics of Hair: Disney’s Tangled Feminist Messages”, “Tangled: A Celebration of White Femininity”, and “Disney’s Tangled: Fun, But Not Feminist”, berating the film for its lack of any true feminist examples or progressiveness (Kilmer). One way to assess the impact of Disney is to look at the use of shape shifting and transformation in the narratives – particularly those that include women and young girls. Research shows that girls and women are often stereotyped and sexualised in the mass media (Smith et al.; Collins), and Disney regularly utilises body modification and metamorphosis within its narratives to emphasise what good and evil ‘look’ like. These magical transformations evoke what Marina Warner refers to as part of the necessary surprise element of the fairy tale, while creating suspense and identity with storylines and characters. In early Disney films such as the 1937 version of Snow White, the queen becomes the witch who brings a poison apple to the princess; and in the 1959 film Sleeping Beauty the ‘bad’ fairy Maleficent shapeshifts into a malevolent dragon. Whilst these ‘good to evil’ (and vice versa) tropes are easily recognised, there are additional transformations that are arguably more problematic than those of the increasingly terrifying monsters or villains. Disney has created what we have coined the ‘princess bubble’, where the physique and behaviour of the leading women in the tales has become a predictor of success and good fortune, and the impression is created of a link between their possession of beauty and the ‘happily-ever-after’ outcome received by the female character. The value, or worth, of a princess is shown within these stories to often increase according to her ability to attract men. For example, in Brave, Queen Elinor showcases the extreme measures taken to ‘present’ her daughter Merida to male suitors. Merida is preened, dressed, and shown how to behave to increase her value to her family, and whilst she manages to persuade them to set aside their patriarchal ideologies in the end, it is clear what is expected from Merida in order to gain male attention. Similarly, Cinderella, Aurora, and Snow White are found to be of high ‘worth’ by the princes on account of their beauty and form. We contend, therefore, that the impression often cast on audiences by Disney princesses emphasises that beauty = worth, no matter how transgressive Disney appears to be on the surface. These princesses are flawlessly beautiful, capable of winning the heart of the prince by triumphing over their less attractive rivals – who are often sisters or other family members. This creates the illusion among young audiences that physical attractiveness is enough to achieve success, and emphasises beauty as the priority above all else. Therefore, the Disney ‘princess bubble’ is highly problematic. It presents a narrow range of acceptability for female characters, offers a distorted view of gender, and serves to further engrain into popular culture a flawed stereotype on how to look and behave that negates a fuller representation of female characters. In addition, Armando Maggi argues that since fairy tales have been passed down through generations, they have become an intrinsic part of many people’s upbringing and are part of a kind of universal imaginary and repository of cultural values. This means that these iconic cultural stories are “unlikely to ever be discarded because they possess both a sentimental value and a moral ‘soundness’” (Rutherford 33), albeit that the lessons to be learnt are at times antiquated and exclusionary in contemporary society. The marketing and promotion of the Disney princess line has resulted in these characters becoming an extremely popular form of media and merchandise for young girls (Coyne et al. 2), and Disney has received great financial benefit from the success of its long history of popular films and merchandise. As a global corporation with influence across multiple entertainment platforms, from its streaming channel to merchandise and theme parks, the gender portrayals therefore impact on culture and, in particular, on how young audiences view gender representation. Therefore, it could be argued that Disney has a social responsibility to ensure that its messages and characters do not skew or become damaging to the psyche of its young audiences who are highly impressionable. When the representation of gender is examined, however, Disney tends to create highly gendered performances in both the early and modern iterations of fairy tales, and the princess characters remain within a narrow range of physical portrayals and agency. The Princess Bubble Although there are twelve official characters within the Disney princess umbrella, plus Elsa and Anna from the Disney Frozen franchise, this article examines the eleven characters who are either born or become royalty through marriage, and exhibit characteristics that could be argued to be the epitome of feminine representation in fairy tales. The characters within this ‘princess bubble’ are Snow White, Cinderella, Aurora, Ariel, Belle, Jasmine, Tiana, Rapunzel, Merida, Elsa, and Anna. The physical appearance of those in the princess bubble also connects to displays around the physical aspects of ethnicity. Nine out of eleven are white skinned, with Jasmine having lightened in skin tone over time, and Tiana now having a tanned look rather than the original dark African American complexion seen in 2009 (Brucculieri). This reinforces an ideology that being white is superior. Every princess in our sample has thick and healthy long hair, the predominant colour being blonde. Their eyes are mostly blue, with only three possessing a dark colour, a factor which reinforces the characteristics and representation of white ethnic groups. Their eyes are also big and bulbous in shape, with large irises and pupils, and extraordinarily long eyelashes that create an almost child-like look of innocence that matches their young age. These princesses have an average age of sixteen years and are always naïve, most without formal education or worldly experience, and they have additional distinctive traits which include poise, elegance and other desired feminine characteristics – like kindness and purity. Ehrenreich and Orenstein note that the physical attributes of the Disney princesses are so evident that the creators have drawn criticism for over-glamorising them, and for their general passiveness and reliance on men for their happiness. Essentially, these women are created in the image of the ultimate male fantasy, where an increased value is placed on the virginal look, followed by a perfect tiny body and an ability to follow basic instructions. The slim bodies of these princesses are disproportionate, and include long necks, demure shoulders, medium- to large-sized perky breasts, with tiny waists, wrists, ankles and feet. Thus, it can be argued that the main theme for those within the princess bubble is their physical body and beauty, and the importance of being attractive to achieve success. The importance of the physical form is so valued that the first blessing given by the fairies to Aurora from Sleeping Beauty is the gift of physical beauty (Rutherford). Furthermore, Tanner et al. argue that the "images of love at first sight in the films encourage the belief that physical appearance is the most important thing", and these fairy tales often reflect a pattern that the prince cannot help but to instantly fall in love with these women because they are so striking. In some instances, like the stories of Cinderella and Snow White, these princesses have not uttered a single word to their prince before these men fall unconditionally and hopelessly in love. Cinderella need only to turn up at the ball as the best dressed (Parks), while Snow White must merely “wait prettily, because someday her prince will come" (Inge) to reestablish her as royalty. Disney emphasises that these princesses win their man solely on the basis that they are the most beautiful girls in the land. In Sleeping Beauty, the prince overhears Aurora’s singing and that sets his heart aflame to the point of refusing to wed the woman chosen for him at birth by the king. Fortunately, she is one and the same person, so the patriarchy survives, but this idea of beauty, and of 'love at first sight', continues to be a central part of Disney movies today, and shows that “Disney Films are vehicles of powerful gender ideologies” (Hairianto). These princesses within the bubble of perfection have priority placed on their physical and sexual beauty (Dietz), formulating a kind of ‘beauty contest motif’. Examples include Gaston, who does not love Belle in Beauty and the Beast, but simply wants her as his trophy wife because he deems her to be the most beautiful girl in the town. Ariel, from The Little Mermaid, looks as if she "was modeled after a slightly anorexic Barbie doll with thin waist and prominent bust. This representation portrays a dangerous model for young women" (Zarranz). The sexualisation of the characters continues as Jasmine has “a delicate nose and small mouth" (Lacroix), with a dress that can be considered as highly sexualised and unsuitable for a girl of sixteen (Lacroix). In Tangled, Rapunzel is held hostage in the tower by Mother Gothel because she is ‘as fragile as a flower’ and needs to be ‘kept safe’ from the harms in the world. But it is her beauty that scares the witch the most, because losing Rapunzel would leave the old woman without her magical anti-aging hair. She uses scare tactics to ensure that Rapunzel remains unseen to the world. These examples are all variations of the beauty theme, as the princesses all fall within narrow and predictable tropes of love at first sight where the woman is rescued and initiated into womanhood by being chosen by a man. Disney’s Progressive Representation? At times Disney’s portrayal of princesses appears illusively progressive, by introducing new and different variations of princesses into the fold – such as Merida in the 2012 film Brave. Unfortunately, this is merely an illusion as the ‘body-perfect’ image remains an all-important ideal to snare a prince. Merida, the young and spirited teenage princess, begins her tale determined not to conform to the desired standards set for a woman of her standing; however, when the time comes for her to be married, there is no negotiating with her mother, the queen, on dress compliance. Merida is clothed against her will to re-identify her in the manner which her parents deem appropriate. Her ability to express her identity and individuality removed, now replaced by a masked version, and thus with the true Merida lost in this transformation, her parents consider Merida to be of renewed merit and benefit to the family. This shows that Disney remains unchanged in its depiction of who may ‘fit’ within the princess bubble, because the rubric is unchanged on how to win the heart of the man. In fact, this film is possibly more troublesome than the rest because it clearly depicts her parents to deem her to be of more value only after her mother has altered her physical appearance. It is only after the total collapse of the royal family that King Fergus has a change of patriarchal heart, and in fact Disney does not portray this rumpled, ripped-sleeved version of the princess in its merchandising campaign. While the fantasy of fairy tales provides enthralling adventures that always end in happiness for the pretty princesses that encounter them, consideration must be given to all those women who have not met the standard and are left in their wake. If women do not conform to the standards of representation, they are presented as outcasts, and happiness eludes them. Cinderella, for example, has two ugly stepsisters, who, no matter how hard they might try, are unable to match her in attractiveness, kindness, or grace. Disney has embraced and not shunned Perrault’s original retelling of the tale, by ensuring that these stepsisters are ugly. They have not been blessed with any attributes whatsoever, and cannot sing, dance, or play music; nor can they sew, cook, clean, or behave respectably. These girls will never find a suitor, let alone a prince, no matter how eager they are to do so. On the physical comparison, Anastasia and Drizella have bodies that are far more rounded and voluptuous, with feet, for example, that are more than double the size of Cinderella’s magical slipper. These women clearly miss the parameters of our princess bubble, emphasising that Disney is continuing to promote dangerous narratives that could potentially harm young audience conceptions of femininity at an important period in their development. Therefore, despite the ‘progressive’ strides made by Disney in response to the vast criticism of their earlier films, the agency afforded to their new generation of princesses does not alter the fact that success comes to those who are beautiful. These beautiful people continue to win every time. Furthermore, Hairianto has found that it is not uncommon for the media to directly or indirectly promote “mental models of how a woman should look, speak and interact with others”, and that Disney uses its pervasive princess influence “to shape perceptions of female identity and desirability. Females are made to measure themselves against the set of values that are meted out by the films” (Hairianto). In the 2017 film Beauty and the Beast, those outside of the princess bubble are seen in the characters of the three maidens from the village who are always trying to look their very best in the hope of attracting Gaston (Rutherford). Gaston is not only disinterested but shows borderline contempt at their glances by permitting his horse to spray mud and dirt all over their fine clothing. They do not meet the beauty standard set, and instead of questioning his cruelty, the audience is left laughing at the horse’s antics. Interestingly, the earlier version of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast portrays these maidens as blonde, slim, and sexy, closely fitting the model of beauty displayed in our princess bubble; however, none match the beauty of Belle, and are therefore deemed inferior. In this manner, Disney is being irresponsible, placing little interest in the psychological ‘safety’ or affect the messages have upon young girls who will never meet these expectations (Ehrenreich; Best and Lowney; Orenstein). Furthermore, bodies are shaped and created by culture. They are central to self-identity, becoming a projection of how we see ourselves. Grosz (xii) argues that our notions of our bodies begin in physicality but are forever shaped by our interactions with social realities and cultural norms. The media are constantly filled with images that “glorify and highlight some kinds of bodies (for example, the young, able-bodied and beautiful) while ignoring or condemning others” (Jones 193), and these influences on gender, ethnicity, sexuality, race, and religion within popular culture therefore play a huge part in identity creation. In Disney films, the princess bubble constantly sings the same song, and “children view these stereotypical roles as the right and only way to behave” (Ewert). In The Princess and the Frog, Tiana’s friend Charlotte is so desperate to ‘catch’ a prince that "she humorously over-applies her makeup and adjusts her ball gown to emphasize her cleavage" (Breaux), but the point is not lost. Additionally, “making sure that girls become worthy of love seems central to Disney’s fairy tale films” (Rutherford 76), and because their fairy tales are so pervasive and popular, young viewers receive a consistent message that being beautiful and having a tiny doll-like body type is paramount. “This can be destructive for developing girls’ views and images of their own bodies, which are not proportioned the way that they see on screen” (Cordwell 21). “The strongly gendered messages present in the resolutions of the movies help to reinforce the desirability of traditional gender conformity” (England et al. 565). Conclusion The princess bubble is a phenomenon that has been seen in Disney’s representation of female characters for decades. Within this bubble there is a narrow range of representation permitted, and attempts to make the characters more progressive have instead resulted in narrow and restrictive constraints, reinforcing dangerous female stereotypes. Kilmer suggests that ultimately these representations fail to break away from “hegemonic assumptions about gender norms, class boundaries, and Caucasian privileging”. Ultimately this presents audiences with strong and persuasive messages about gender performance. Audiences conform their bodies to societal ‘rules’: “as to how we ‘wear’ and ‘use’ our bodies” (Richardson and Locks x), including for example how we should dress, what we should weigh, and how to become popular. In our global hypermediated society, viewers are constantly exposed to princesses and other appropriate bodies. These become internalised ideals and aid in positive and negative thoughts and self-identity, which in turn creates additional pressure on the female body in particular. The seemingly innocent stories with happy outcomes are therefore unrealistic and ultimately excluding of those who cannot or will not ‘fit into the princess bubble’. The princess bubble, we argue, is therefore predictable and restrictive, promoting female passiveness and a reliance of physical traits over intelligence. The dominance of beauty over all else remains the road to female success in the Disney fairy tale film. References Beauty and the Beast. Dirs. Gary Trousdale and Kirk Wise. Walt Disney Productions, 1991. Film. Beauty and the Beast. Dir. Bill Condon. Walt Disney Pictures, 2017. Film. Best, Joel, and Kathleen S. Lowney. “The Disadvantage of a Good Reputation: Disney as a Target for Social Problems Claims.” The Sociological Quarterly 50 (2009): 431–449. doi:10.1111/j.1533-8525.2009.01147.x. Brave. Dirs. Mark Andrews and Brenda Chapman. Walt Disney Pictures, 2012. Film. Breaux, Richard, M. “After 75 Years of Magic: Disney Answers Its Critics, Rewrites African American History, and Cashes in on Its Racist Past.” Journal of African American Studies 14 (2010): 398-416. Cinderella. Dirs. Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, and Hamilton Luske. 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One of the ways in which culture becomes enriched is through reconsideration and reinterpretation of well-known stories, and classic fairy tales provide promising material for investigation of the nature of this complex process. The Walt Disney Company is among the most powerful tellers of classic tales, its line of princess animations being an example of simultaneous development and preservation of the fairy-tale phenomenon in a changing cultural context. We analyse the dialogue among classic and modern princess stories and the discussions that these stories give rise to in English-language academic criticism and English-based participatory culture. We focus on the interaction among authors, texts and readers, showing how traditional tales balance between mythological and nonmythological consciousness, between innovative and canonical art. The diversity of fans’ practices may be seen as a key to possible explanation of why fairy tales exist in culture as a complex, constantly growing web, not as a limited number of selected final versions. Amateur authors demonstrate their interest in the mythopoetics of classic fairy tale plots. They are attracted by the old romantic myth that stands behind princess stories, participate in the creation of the romantic antimyth that is supported by the professional critics, and expect the appearance of new modern myths that might be generated by the new productions of Disney. New fairy tales appear, but this does not result in the disappearance of the old ones. Not only the interests towards the plots themselves, but also discussions and conflict around classic stories keep them topical for contemporary heterogeneous audiences.

In modern conditions corporate social responsibility is an integral part of the company's image and helps to increase its performance. Companies that operate on the basis of corporate social responsibility, use their own resources for the benefit of society, provide mental and financial support to those who need it the most, help solve problems that government institutions are unable to solve. The ESG practice has become especially widespread in developed countries, as it is supported by international organizations and institutional investors who are interested in the value-based growth of the companies. According to the research, it is determined that the implementation of corporate social responsibility practices contributes to the top-line growth of the companies, reducing operating costs, decreasing the number of regulatory and legal interventions by the state, increasing the productivity and employee involvement, optimizing investment and assets allocation. The key aspects of computation ratings of the ESG practices implementation of the companies are described, in particular, such as Sustainability ESG Rating, Sustainalytics ESG Risk Rating, MSCI ESG Rating, Global RepTrak Rating, ESG Refinitive Rating. Based on public data of international public 272 companies with a market value from 1 to 99 billion US dollars as of the end of 2020, a regression analysis of the impact of the ESG Refinitiv components on the companies’ market capitalization was made. The ESG Refinitiv captures and calculates over 500 company-level ESG measures, of which a subset of 186 of the most comparable and material per industry, power the overall company assessment and scoring process. It was proved that despite the rather weak correlation between rating components and the variation of companies’ market capitalization, all components have a statistically significant impact on the companies’ value. The companies’ actions in the field of human capital development, protection of human rights in the workplace, and responsibility to customers for a quality product have the most significant positive impact on value growth. The experience of implementing social practices by the world's leading companies in the field of ESG (LEGO Group, The Walt Disney Company) was analyzed.

Art Imitating ArtThis article discusses the global, historical and literary references that are present in the video game franchise Bayonetta. In particular, references to Dante’s Divine Comedy, the works of Dr John Dee, and European traditions of witchcraft are examined. Bayonetta is modern in the sense that she is a woman of the world. Her character shows how history and literature may be used, re-used, and evolve into new formats, and how modern games travel abroad through time and space.Drawing creative inspiration from other works is nothing new. Ideas and themes, art and literature are frequently borrowed and recast. Carmel Cedro cites Northrop Frye in the example of William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. These writers created stories and characters that have developed a level of acclaim and resonated with many individuals, resulting in countless homages over the years. The forms that these appropriations take vary widely. Media formats, such as film adaptations and even books, take the core characters or narrative from the original and re-work them into a different context. For example, the novel Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson published in 1883 was adapted into the 2002 Walt Disney animated film Treasure Planet. The film maintained the concepts of the original narrative and retained key characters but re-imaged them to fit the science fiction genre (Clements and Musker).The video-game franchise Bayonetta draws inspiration from distinct sources creating the foundation for the universe and some plot points to enhance the narrative. The main sources are Dante’s Divine Comedy, the projections of John Dee and his mystical practices as well as the medieval history of witches.The Vestibule: The Concept of BayonettaFigure 1: Bayonetta Concept ArtBayonetta ConceptsThe concept of Bayonetta was originally developed by video game designer Hideki Kamiya, known previously for his work including The Devil May Cry and the Resident Evil game series. The development of Bayonetta began with Kamiya requesting a character design that included three traits: a female lead, a modern witch, and four guns. This description laid the foundations for what was to become the hack and slash fantasy heroine that would come to be known as Bayonetta. "Abandon all hope ye who enter here"The Divine Comedy, written by Dante Alighieri during the 1300s, was a revolutionary piece of literature for its time, in that it was one of the first texts that formalised the vernacular Italian language by omitting the use of Latin, the academic language of the time. Dante’s work was also revolutionary in its innovative contemplations on religion, art and sciences, creating a literary collage of such depth that it would continue to inspire hundreds of years after its first publication.Figure 2: Domenico di Michelino’s fresco of Dante and his Divine Comedy, surrounded by depictions of scenes in the textBayonetta explores the themes of The Divine Comedy in a variety of ways, using them as an obvious backdrop, along with subtle homages and references scattered throughout the game. The world of Bayonetta is set in the Trinity of Realities, three realms that co-exist forming the universe: Inferno, Paradiso and the Chaos realm—realm of humans—and connected by Purgitorio—the intersection of the trinity. In the game, Bayonetta travels throughout these realms, primarily in the realm of Purgitorio, the area in which magical and divine entities may conduct their business. However, there are stages within the game where Bayonetta finds herself in Paradiso and the human realm. This is a significant factor relating to The Divine Comedy as these realms also form the areas explored by Dante in his epic poem. The depth of these parallels is not exclusive to factors in Dante’s masterpiece, as there are also references to other art and literature inspired by Dante’s legacy. For example, the character Rodin in Bayonetta runs a bar named “The Gates of Hell.” In 1917 French artist Auguste Rodin completed a sculpture, The Gates of Hell depicting scenes and characters from The Divine Comedy. Rodin’s bar in Bayonetta is manifested as a dark impressionist style of architecture, with an ominous atmosphere. In early concept art, the proprietor of the bar was to be named Mephisto (Kamiya) derived from “Mephistopheles”, another name for the devil in some mythologies. Figure 3: Auguste Rodin's Gate of Hell, 1917Aspects of Dante’s surroundings and the theological beliefs of his time can be found in Bayonetta, as well as in the 2013 anime film adaptation Bayonetta, Bloody Fate. The Christian virtues, revered during the European Middle Ages, manifest themselves as enemies and adversaries that Bayonetta must combat throughout the game. Notably, the names of the cardinal virtues serve as “boss ranked” foes. Enemies within a game, usually present at the end of a level and more difficult to defeat than regular enemies within “Audito Sphere” of the “Laguna Hierarchy” (high levels of the hierarchy within the game), are named in Italian; Fortitudo, Temperantia, Lustitia, and Sapientia. These are the virtues of Classical Greek Philosophy, and reflect Dante’s native language as well as the impact the philosophies of Ancient Greece had on his writings. The film adaption of Bayonetta incorporated many elements from the game. To adjust the game effectively, it was necessary to augment the plot in order to fit the format of this alternate media. As it was no longer carried by gameplay, the narrative became paramount. The diverse plot points of the new narrative allowed for novel possibilities for further developing the role of The Divine Comedy in Bayonetta. At the beginning of the movie, for example, Bayonetta enters as a nun, just as she does in the game, only here she is in church praying rather than in a graveyard conducting a funeral. During her prayer she recites “I am the way into the city of woe, abandon all hope, oh, ye who enter here,” which is a Canto of The Divine Comedy. John Dee and the AngelsDr John Dee (1527—1608), a learned man of Elizabethan England, was a celebrated philosopher, mathematician, scientist, historian, and teacher. In addition, he was a researcher of magic and occult arts, as were many of his contemporaries. These philosopher magicians were described as Magi and John Dee was the first English Magus (French). He was part of a school of study within the Renaissance intelligensia that was influenced by the then recently discovered works of the gnostic Hermes Trismegistus, thought to be of great antiquity. This was in an age when religion, philosophy and science were intertwined. Alchemy and chemistry were still one, and astronomers, such as Johannes Kepler and Tyco Brahe cast horoscopes. John Dee engaged in spiritual experiments that were based in his Christian faith but caused him to be viewed in some circles as dangerously heretical (French).Based on the texts of Hermes Trismegistas and other later Christian philosophical and theological writers such as Dionysius the Areopagite, Dee and his contemporaries believed in celestial hierarchies and levels of existence. These celestial hierarchies could be accessed by “real artificial magic,” or applied science, that included mathematics, and the cabala, or the mystical use of permutations of Hebrew texts, to access supercelestial powers (French). In his experiments in religious magic, Dee was influenced by the occult writings of Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa (1486—1535). In Agrippa’s book, De Occulta Philosophia, there are descriptions for seals, symbols and tables for summoning angels, to which Dee referred in his accounts of his own magic experiments (French). Following his studies, Dee constructed a table with a crystal placed on it. By use of suitable rituals prescribed by Agrippa and others, Dee believed he summoned angels within the crystal, who could be seen and conversed with. Dee did not see these visions himself, but conversed with the angels through a skryer, or medium, who saw and heard the celestial beings. Dee recorded his interviews in his “Spiritual Diaries” (French). Throughout Bayonetta there are numerous seals and devices that would appear to be inspired by the work of Dee or other Renaissance Magi.In these sessions, John Dee, through his skryer Edward Kelley, received instruction from several angels. The angels led him to believe he was to be a prophet in the style of the biblical Elijah or, more specifically like Enoch, whose prophesies were detailed in an ancient book that was not part of the Bible, but was considered by many scholars as divinely inspired. As a result, these experiments have been termed “Enochian conversations.” The prophesies received by Dee foretold apocalyptic events that were to occur soon and God’s plan for the world. The angels also instructed Dee in a system of magic to allow him to interpret the prophesies and participate in them as a form of judge. Importantly, Dee was also taught elements of the supposed angelic language, which came to be known as “Enochian” (Ouellette). Dee wrote extensively about his interviews with the angels and includes statements of their hierarchy (French, Ouellette). This is reflected in the “Laguna Hierarchy” of Bayonetta, sharing similarities in name and appearance of the angels Dee had described. Platinum Games creative director Jean-Pierre Kellams acted as writer and liaison, assisting the English adaptation of Bayonetta and was tasked by Hideki Kamiya to develop Bayonetta’s incantations and subsequently the language of the angels within the game (Kellams).The Hammer of WitchesOne of the earliest and most integral components of the Bayonetta franchise is the fact that the title character is a witch. Witches, sorcerers and other practitioners of magic have been part of folklore for centuries. Hideki Kamiya stated that the concept of” classical witches” was primarily a European legend. In order to emulate this European dimension, he had envisioned Bayonetta as having a British accent which resulted in the game being released in English first, even though Platinum Games is a Japanese company (Kamiya). The Umbra Witch Clan hails from Europe within the Bayonetta Universe and relates more closely to the traditional European medieval witch tradition (Various), although some of the charms Bayonetta possesses acknowledge the witches of different parts of the world and their cultural context. The Evil Harvest Rosary is said to have been created by a Japanese witch in the game. Bayonetta herself and other witches of the game use their hair as a conduit to summon demons and is known as “wicked weaves” within the game. She also creates her tight body suit out of her hair, which recedes when she decides to use a wicked weave. Using hair in magic harks back to a legend that witches often utilised hair in their rituals and spell casting (Guiley). It is also said that women with long and beautiful hair were particularly susceptible to being seduced by Incubi, a form of demon that targets sleeping women for sexual intercourse. According to some texts (Kramer), witches formed into the beings that they are through consensual sex with a devil, as stated in Malleus Maleficarum of the 1400s, when he wrote that “Modern Witches … willingly embrace this most foul and miserable form of servitude” (Kramer). Bayonetta wields her sexuality as proficiently as she does any weapon. This lends itself to the belief that women of such a seductive demeanour were consorts to demons.Purgitorio is not used in the traditional sense of being a location of the afterlife, as seen in The Divine Comedy, rather it is depicted as a dimension that exists concurrently within the human realm. Those who exist within this Purgitorio cannot be seen with human eyes. Bayonetta’s ability to enter and exit this space with the use of magic is likened to the myth that witches were known to disappear for periods of time and were purported to be “spirited away” from the human world (Kamiya).Recipes for gun powder emerge from as early as the 1200s but, to avoid charges of witchcraft due to superstitions of the time, they were hidden by inventors such as Roger Bacon (McNab). The use of “Bullet Arts” in Bayonetta as the main form of combat for Umbra Witches, and the fact that these firearm techniques had been honed by witches for centuries before the witch hunts, implies that firearms were indeed used by dark magic practitioners until their “discovery” by ordinary humans in the Bayonetta universe. In addition to this, that “Lumen Sages” are not seen to practice bullet arts, builds on the idea of guns being a practice of black magic. “Lumen Sages” are the Light counterpart and adversaries of the Umbra Witches in Bayonetta. The art of Alchemy is incorporated into Bayonetta as a form of witchcraft. Players may create their own health, vitality, protective and mana potions through a menu screen. This plays on the taboo of chemistry and alchemy of the 1500s. As mentioned, John Dee's tendency to dabble in such practices was considered by some to be heretical (French, Ouellette).Light and dark forces are juxtaposed in Bayonetta through the classic adversaries, Angels and Demons. The moral flexibility of both the light and dark entities in the game leaves the principles of good an evil in a state of ambiguity, which allows for uninhibited flow in the story and creates a non-linear and compelling narrative. Through this non-compliance with the pop culture counterparts of light and dark, gamers are left to question the foundations of old cultural norms. This historical context lends itself to the Bayonetta story not only by providing additional plot points, but also by justifying the development decisions that occur in order to truly flesh out Bayonetta’s character.ConclusionCompelling story line, characters with layered personality, and the ability to transgress boundaries of time and travel are all factors that provide a level of depth that has become an increasingly important aspect in modern video gameplay. Gamers love “Easter eggs,” the subtle references and embellishments scattered throughout a game that make playing games like Bayonetta so enjoyable. Bayonetta herself is a global traveller whose journeying is not limited to “abroad.” She transgresses cultural, time, and spatial boundaries. The game is a mosaic of references to spatial time dimensions, literary, and historical sources. This mix of borrowings has produced an original gameplay and a unique storyline. Such use of literature, mythology, and history to enhance the narrative creates a quest game that provides “meaningful play” (Howard). This process of creation of new material from older sources is a form of renewal. As long as contemporary culture presents literature and history to new audiences, the older texts will not be forgotten, but these elements will undergo a form of renewal and restoration and the present-day culture will be enhanced as a result. In the words of Bayonetta herself: “As long as there’s music, I’ll keep on dancing.”ReferencesCedro, Carmel. "Dolly Varden: Sweet Inspiration." Australasian Journal of Popular Culture 2.1 (2012): 37-46. French, Peter J. John Dee: The World of an Elizabethan Magus. London: London, Routledge and K. Paul, 1972. Guiley, Rosemary. The Encyclopedia of Demons and Demonology. Infobase Publishing, 2009. Howard, Jeff. Quests: Design, Theory, and History in Games and Narratives. Wellesley, Mass.: A.K. Peters, 2008. Kamiya, Hideki.Bayonetta. Bayonetta. Videogame. Sega, Japan, 2009.Kellams, Jean-Pierre. "Butmoni Coronzon (from the Mouth of the Witch)." Platinum Games 2009.Kramer, Heinrich. The Malleus Maleficarum of Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger. Eds. Sprenger, Jakob, or joint author, and Montague Summers. New York: Dover, 1971.McNab, C. Firearms: The Illustrated Guide to Small Arms of the World. Parragon, 2008.Ouellette, Francois. "Prophet to the Elohim: John Dee's Enochian Conversations as Christian Apocalyptic Discourse." Master of Arts thesis. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing, 2004.Treasure Planet. The Walt Disney Company, 2003.Various. "Bayonetta Wikia." 2016.

Introduction It is very common for children’s films to adapt, rework, or otherwise re-imagine existing cultural material. Such re-imaginings are potential candidates for fidelity criticism: a mode of analysis whereby an adaptation is judged according to its degree of faithfulness to the source text. Indeed, it is interesting that while fidelity criticism is now considered outdated and problematic by adaptation theorists (see Stam; Leitch; and Whelehan) the issue of fidelity has tended to linger in the discussions that form around material adapted for children. In particular, it is often assumed that the re-imagining of cultural material for children will involve a process of “dumbing down” that strips the original text of its complexity so that it is more easily consumed by young audiences (see Semenza; Kellogg; Hastings; and Napolitano). This is especially the case when children’s films draw from texts—or genres—that are specifically associated with an adult readership. This paper explores such an interplay between children’s and adult’s culture with reference to the re-imagining of the horror genre in children’s animated film. Recent years have seen an inrush of animated films that play with horror tropes, conventions, and characters. These include Frankenweenie (2012), ParaNorman (2012), Hotel Transylvania (2012), Igor (2008), Monsters Inc. (2001), Monster House (2006), and Monsters vs Aliens (2009). Often diminishingly referred to as “kiddie horror” or “goth lite”, this re-imagining of the horror genre is connected to broader shifts in children’s culture, literature, and media. Anna Jackson, Karen Coats, and Roderick McGillis, for instance, have written about the mainstreaming of the Gothic in children’s literature after centuries of “suppression” (2); a glance at the titles in a children’s book store, they tell us, may suggest that “fear or the pretence of fear has become a dominant mode of enjoyment in literature for young people” (1). At the same time, as Lisa Hopkins has pointed out, media products with dark, supernatural, or Gothic elements are increasingly being marketed to children, either directly or through product tie-ins such as toys or branded food items (116-17). The re-imagining of horror for children demands our attention for a number of reasons. First, it raises questions about the commercialisation and repackaging of material that has traditionally been considered “high culture”, particularly when the films in question are seen to pilfer from sites of the literary Gothic such as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818) or Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897). The classic horror films of the 1930s such as James Whale’s Frankenstein (1931) also have their own canonical status within the genre, and are objects of reverence for horror fans and film scholars alike. Moreover, aficionados of the genre have been known to object vehemently to any perceived simplification or dumbing down of horror conventions in order to address a non-horror audience. As Lisa Bode has demonstrated, such objections were articulated in many reviews of the film Twilight, in which the repackaging and simplifying of vampire mythology was seen to pander to a female, teenage or “tween” audience (710-11). Second, the re-imagining of horror for children raises questions about whether the genre is an appropriate source of pleasure and entertainment for young audiences. Horror has traditionally been understood as problematic and damaging even for adult viewers: Mark Jancovich, for instance, writes of the long-standing assumption that horror “is moronic, sick and worrying; that any person who derives pleasure from the genre is moronic, sick and potentially dangerous” and that both the genre and its fans are “deviant” (18). Consequently, discussions about the relationship between children and horror have tended to emphasise regulation, restriction, censorship, effect, and “the dangers of imitative violence” (Buckingham 95). As Paul Wells observes, there is a “consistent concern […] that horror films are harmful to children, but clearly these films are not made for children, and the responsibility for who views them lies with adult authority figures who determine how and when horror films are seen” (24). Previous academic work on the child as horror viewer has tended to focus on children as consumers of horror material designed for adults. Joanne Cantor’s extensive work in this area has indicated that fright reactions to horror media are commonly reported and can be long-lived (Cantor; and Cantor and Oliver). Elsewhere, the work of Sarah Smith (45-76) and David Buckingham (95-138) has indicated that children, like adults, can gain certain pleasures from the genre; it has also indicated that children can be quite media savvy when viewing horror, and can operate effectively as self-censors. However, little work has yet been conducted on whether (and how) the horror genre might be transformed for child viewers. With this in mind, I explore here the re-imagining of horror in two children’s animated films: Frankenweenie and ParaNorman. I will consider the way horror tropes, narratives, conventions, and characters have been reshaped in each film with a child’s perspective in mind. This, I argue, does not make them simplified texts or unsuitable objects of pleasure for adults; instead, the films demonstrate that the act of re-imagining horror for children calls into question long-held assumptions about pleasure, taste, and the boundaries between “adult” and “child”. Frankenweenie and ParaNorman: Rewriting the Myth of Childhood Innocence Frankenweenie is a stop-motion animation written by John August and directed by Tim Burton, based on a live-action short film made by Burton in 1984. As its name suggests, Frankenweenie re-imagines Shelley’s Frankenstein by transforming the relationship between creator and monster into that between child and pet. Burton’s Victor Frankenstein is a young boy living in a small American town, a creative loner who enjoys making monster movies. When his beloved dog Sparky is killed in a car accident, young Victor—like his predecessor in Shelley’s novel—is driven by the awfulness of this encounter with death to discover the “mysteries of creation” (Shelley 38): he digs up Sparky’s body, drags the corpse back to the family home, and reanimates him in the attic. This coming-to-life sequence is both a re-imagining of the famous animation scene in Whale’s film Frankenstein and a tender expression of the love between a boy and his dog. The re-imagined creation scene therefore becomes a site of negotiation between adult and child audiences: adult viewers familiar with Whale’s adaptation and its sense of electric spectacle are invited to rethink this scene from a child’s perspective, while child viewers are given access to a key moment from the horror canon. While this blurring of the lines between child and adult is a common theme in Burton’s work—many of his films exist in a liminal space where a certain childlike sensibility mingles with a more adult-centric dark humour—Frankenweenie is unique in that it actively re-imagines as “childlike” a film and/or work of literature that was previously populated by adult characters and associated with adult audiences. ParaNorman is the second major film from the animation studio Laika Entertainment. Following in the footsteps of the earlier Laika film Coraline (2009)—and paving the way for the studio’s 2014 release, Boxtrolls—ParaNorman features stop-motion animation, twisted storylines, and the exploration of dark themes and spaces by child characters. The film tells the story of Norman, an eleven year old boy who can see and communicate with the dead. This gift marks him as an outcast in the small town of Blithe Hollow, which has built its identity on the historic trial and hanging of an “evil” child witch. Norman must grapple with the town’s troubled past and calm the spirit of the vengeful witch; along the way, he and an odd assortment of children battle zombies and townsfolk alike, the latter appearing more monstrous than the former as the film progresses. Although ParaNorman does not position itself as an adaptation of a specific horror text, as does Frankenweenie, it shares with Burton’s film a playful intertextuality whereby references are constantly made to iconic films in the horror genre (including Halloween [1978], Friday the 13th [1980], and Day of the Dead [1985]). Both films were released in 2012 to critical acclaim. Interestingly, though, film critics seemed to disagree over who these texts were actually “for.” Some reviewers described the films as children’s texts, and warned that adults would likely find them “tame and compromised” (Scott), “toothless” (McCarthy) or “sentimental” (Bradshaw). These comments carry connotations of simplification: the suggestion is that the conventions and tropes of the horror genre have been weakened (or even contaminated) by the association with child audiences, and that consequently adults cannot (or should not) take pleasure in the films. Other reviewers of ParaNorman and Frankenweenie suggested that adults were more likely to enjoy the films than children (O’Connell; Berardinelli; and Wolgamott). Often, this suggestion came together with a warning about scary or dark content: the films were deemed to be too frightening for young children, and this exclusion of the child audience allowed the reviewer to acknowledge his or her own enjoyment of and investment in the film (and the potential enjoyment of other adult viewers). Lou Lumenick, for instance, peppers his review of ParaNorman with language that indicates his own pleasure (“probably the year’s most visually dazzling movie so far”; the climax is “too good to spoil”; the humour is “deliciously twisted”), while warning that children as old as eight should not be taken to see the film. Similarly, Christy Lemire warns that certain elements of Frankenweenie are scary and that “this is not really a movie for little kids”; she goes on to add that this scariness “is precisely what makes ‘Frankenweenie’ such a consistent wonder to watch for the rest of us” (emphasis added). In both these cases a line is drawn between child and adult viewers, and arguably it is the film’s straying into the illicit area of horror from the confines of a children’s text that renders it an object of pleasure for the adult viewer. The thrill of being scared is also interpreted here as a specifically adult pleasure. This need on the part of critics to establish boundaries between child and adult viewerships is interesting given that the films themselves strive to incorporate children (as characters and as viewers) into the horror space. In particular, both films work hard to dismantle the myths of childhood innocence—and associated ideas about pleasure and taste—that have previously seen children excluded from the culture of the horror film. Both the young protagonists, for instance, are depicted as media-literate consumers or makers of horror material. Victor is initially seen exhibiting one of his home-made monster movies to his bemused parents, and we first encounter Norman watching a zombie film with his (dead) grandmother; clearly a consummate horror viewer, Norman decodes the film for Grandma, explaining that the zombie is eating the woman’s head because, “that’s what they do.” In this way, the myth of childhood innocence is rewritten: the child’s mature engagement with the horror genre gives him agency, which is linked to his active position in the narrative (both Norman and Victor literally save their towns from destruction); the parents, meanwhile, are reduced to babbling stereotypes who worry that their sons will “turn out weird” (Frankenweenie) or wonder why they “can’t be like other kids” (ParaNorman). The films also rewrite the myth of childhood innocence by depicting Victor and Norman as children with dark, difficult lives. Importantly, each boy has encountered death and, for each, his parents have failed to effectively guide him through the experience. In Frankenweenie Victor is grief-stricken when Sparky dies, yet his parents can offer little more than platitudes to quell the pain of loss. “When you lose someone you love they never really leave you,” Victor’s mother intones, “they just move into a special place in your heart,” to which Victor replies “I don’t want him in my heart—I want him here with me!” The death of Norman’s grandmother is similarly dismissed by his mother in ParaNorman. “I know you and Grandma were very close,” she says, “but we all have to move on. Grandma’s in a better place now.” Norman objects: “No she’s not, she’s in the living room!” In both scenes, the literal-minded but intelligent child seems to understand death, loss, and grief while the parents are unable to speak about these “mature” concepts in a meaningful way. The films are also reminders that a child’s first experience of death can come very young, and often occurs via the loss of an elderly relative or a beloved pet. Death, Play, and the Monster In both films, therefore, the audience is invited to think about death. Consequently, there is a sense in each film that while the violent and sexual content of most horror texts has been stripped away, the dark centre of the horror genre remains. As Paul Wells reminds us, horror “is predominantly concerned with the fear of death, the multiple ways in which it can occur, and the untimely nature of its occurrence” (10). Certainly, the horror texts which Frankenweenie and ParaNorman re-imagine are specifically concerned with death and mortality. The various adaptations of Frankenstein that are referenced in Frankenweenie and the zombie films to which ParaNorman pays homage all deploy “the monster” as a figure who defies easy categorisation as living or dead. The othering of this figure in the traditional horror narrative allows him/her/it to both subvert and confirm cultural ideas about life, death, and human status: for monsters, as Elaine Graham notes, have long been deployed in popular culture as figures who “mark the fault-lines” and also “signal the fragility” of boundary structures, including the boundary between human and not human, and that between life and death (12). Frankenweenie’s Sparky, as an iteration of the Frankenstein monster, clearly fits this description: he is neither living nor dead, and his monstrosity emerges not from any act of violence or from physical deformity (he remains, throughout the film, a cute and lovable dog, albeit with bolts fixed to his neck) but from his boundary-crossing status. However, while most versions of the Frankenstein monster are deliberately positioned to confront ideas about the human/machine boundary and to perform notions of the posthuman, such concerns are sidelined in Frankenweenie. Instead, the emphasis is on concerns that are likely to resonate with children: Sparky is a reminder of the human preoccupation with death, loss, and the question of why (or whether, or when) we should abide by the laws of nature. Arguably, this indicates a re-imagining of the Frankenstein tale not only for child audiences but from a child’s perspective. In ParaNorman, similarly, the zombie–often read as an articulation of adult anxieties about war, apocalypse, terrorism, and the deterioration of social order (Platts 551-55)—is re-used and re-imagined in a childlike way. From a child’s perspective, the zombie may represent the horrific truth of mortality and/or the troublesome desire to live forever that emerges once this truth has been confronted. More specifically, the notion of dealing meaningfully with the past and of honouring rather than silencing the dead is a strong thematic undercurrent in ParaNorman, and in this sense the zombies are important figures who dramatise the connections between past and present. While this past/present connection is explored on many levels in ParaNorman—including the level of a town grappling with its dark history—it is Norman and his grandmother who take centre stage: the boundary-crossing figure of the zombie is re-realised here in terms of a negotiation with a presence that is now absent (the elderly relative who has died but is still remembered). Indeed, the zombies in this film are an implicit rebuke to Norman’s mother and her command that Norman “move on” after his grandmother’s death. The dead are still present, this film playfully reminds us, and therefore “moving on” is an overly simplistic and somewhat disrespectful response (especially when imposed on children by adult authority figures.) If the horror narrative is built around the notion that “normality is threatened by the Monster”, as Robin Wood has famously suggested, ParaNorman and Frankenweenie re-imagine this narrative of subversion from a child’s perspective (31). Both films open up a space within which the child is permitted to negotiate with the destabilising figure of the monster; the normality that is “threatened” here is the adult notion of the finality of death and, relatedly, the assumption that death is not a suitable subject for children to think or talk about. Breaking down such understandings, Frankenweenie and ParaNorman strive not so much to play with death (a phrase that implies a certain callousness, a problematic disregard for human life) but to explore death through the darkness of play. This is beautifully imaged in a scene from ParaNorman in which Norman and his friend Neil play with the ghost of Neil’s recently deceased dog. “We’re going to play with a dead dog in the garden,” Neil enthusiastically announces to his brother, “and we’re not even going to have to dig him up first!” Somewhat similarly, film critic Richard Corliss notes in his review of Frankenweenie that the film’s “message to the young” is that “children should play with dead things.” Through this intersection between “death” and “play”, both films propose a particularly child-like (although not necessarily child-ish) way of negotiating horror’s dark territory. Conclusion Animated film has always been an ambiguous space in terms of age, pleasure, and viewership. As film critic Margaret Pomeranz has observed, “there is this perception that if it’s an animated film then you can take the little littlies” (Pomeranz and Stratton). Animation itself is often a signifier of safety, fun, nostalgia, and childishness; it is a means of addressing families and young audiences. Yet at the same time, the fantastic and transformative aspects of animation can be powerful tools for telling stories that are dark, surprising, or somehow subversive. It is therefore interesting that the trend towards re-imagining horror for children that this paper has identified is unfolding within the animated space. It is beyond the scope of this paper to fully consider what animation as a medium brings to this re-imagining process. However, it is worth noting that the distinctive stop-motion style used in both films works to position them as alternatives to Disney products (for although Frankenweenie was released under the Disney banner, it is visually distinct from most of Disney’s animated ventures). The majority of Disney films are adaptations or re-imaginings of some sort, yet these re-imaginings look to fairytales or children’s literature for their source material. In contrast, as this paper has demonstrated, Frankenweenie and ParaNorman open up a space for boundary play: they give children access to tropes, narratives, and characters that are specifically associated with adult viewers, and they invite adults to see these tropes, narratives, and characters from a child’s perspective. Ultimately, it is difficult to determine the success of this re-imagining process: what, indeed, does a successful re-imagining of horror for children look like, and who might be permitted to take pleasure from it? Arguably, ParaNorman and Frankenweenie have succeeded in reshaping the genre without simplifying it, deploying tropes and characters from classic horror texts in a meaningful way within the complex space of children’s animated film. References Berardinelli, James. “Frankenweenie (Review).” Reelviews, 4 Oct. 2012. 6 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.reelviews.net/php_review_template.php?identifier=2530›. Bode, Lisa. “Transitional Tastes: Teen Girls and Genre in the Critical Reception of Twilight.” Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies 24.5 (2010): 707-19. Bradshaw, Peter. “Frankenweenie: First Look Review.” The Guardian, 11 Oct. 2012. 6 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.theguardian.com/film/2012/oct/10/frankenweenie-review-london-film-festival-tim-burton›. Buckingham, David. Moving Images: Understanding Children’s Emotional Responses to Television. Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 1996. Cantor, Joanne. “‘I’ll Never Have a Clown in My House’ – Why Movie Horror Lives On.” Poetics Today 25.2 (2004): 283-304. Cantor, Joanne, and Mary Beth Oliver. “Developmental Differences in Responses to Horror”. The Horror Film. Ed. Stephen Prince. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers UP, 2004. 224-41. Corliss, Richard. “‘Frankenweenie’ Movie Review: A Re-Animated Delight”. Time, 4 Oct. 2012. 6 Aug. 2014 ‹http://entertainment.time.com/2012/10/04/tim-burtons-frankenweenie-a-re-animated-delight/›. Frankenweenie. Directed by Tim Burton. Walt Disney Pictures, 2012. Graham, Elaine L. Representations of the Post/Human: Monsters, Aliens and Others in Popular Culture. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2002. Hastings, A. Waller. “Moral Simplification in Disney’s The Little Mermaid.” The Lion and the Unicorn 17.1 (1993): 83-92. Hopkins, Lisa. Screening the Gothic. Austin: U of Texas P, 2005. Jackson, Anna, Karen Coats, and Roderick McGillis. “Introduction.” The Gothic in Children’s Literature: Haunting the Borders. Eds. Anna Jackson, Karen Coats, and Roderick McGillis. New York: Routledge, 2008. 1-14. Jancovich, Mark. “General Introduction.” Horror: The Film Reader. Ed. Mark Jancovich. London: Routledge, 2002. 1-19. Kellogg, Judith L. “The Dynamics of Dumbing: The Case of Merlin.” The Lion and the Unicorn 17.1 (1993): 57-72. Leitch, Thomas. “Twelve Fallacies in Contemporary Adaptation Theory.” Criticism 45.2 (2003): 149-71. Lemire, Christy. “‘Frankenweenie’ Review: Tim Burton Reminds Us Why We Love Him.” The Huffington Post, 2 Oct. 2012. 6 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10/03/frankenweenie-review-tim-burton_n_1935142.html›. Lumenick, Lou. “So Good, It’s Scary (ParaNorman Review)”. New York Post, 17 Aug. 2012. 3 Jun. 2015 ‹http://nypost.com/2012/08/17/so-good-its-scary/›. McCarthy, Todd. “Frankenweenie: Film Review.” The Hollywood Reporter, 20 Sep. 2012. 6 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movie/frankenweenie/review/372720›. Napolitano, Marc. “Disneyfying Dickens: Oliver & Company and The Muppet Christmas Carol as Dickensian Musicals.” Studies in Popular Culture 32.1 (2009): 79-102. O’Connell, Sean. “Middle School and Zombies? Awwwkward!” Washington Post, 17 Aug. 2012. 3 Jun. 2015 ‹http://www.washingtonpost.com/gog/movies/paranorman,1208210.html›. ParaNorman. Directed by Chris Butler and Sam Fell. Focus Features/Laika Entertainment, 2012. Platts, Todd K. “Locating Zombies in the Sociology of Popular Culture”. Sociology Compass 7 (2013): 547-60. Pomeranz, Margaret, and David Stratton. “Igor (Review).” At the Movies, 14 Dec. 2008. 6 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.abc.net.au/atthemovies/txt/s2426109.htm›. Scott, A.O. “It’s Aliiiive! And Wagging Its Tail: ‘Frankenweenie’, Tim Burton’s Homage to Horror Classics.” New York Times, 4 Oct. 2012. 6 Aug. 2014 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/05/movies/frankenweenie-tim-burtons-homage-to-horror-classics.html›. Semenza, Gregory M. Colón. “Teens, Shakespeare, and the Dumbing Down Cliché: The Case of The Animated Tales.” Shakespeare Bulletin 26.2 (2008): 37-68. Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein, or, The Modern Prometheus. Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Editions, 1993 [1818]. Smith, Sarah J. Children, Cinema and Censorship: From Dracula to the Dead End Kids. London: I.B. Tauris, 2005. Stam, Robert. “Introduction: The Theory and Practice of Adaptation.” Literature and Film: A Guide to the Theory and Practice of Film Adaptation. Eds. Robert Stam and Alessandra Raengo. Oxford: Blackwell, 2005. 1-52. Wells, Paul. The Horror Genre: From Beelzebub to Blair Witch. London: Wallflower, 2000. Whelehan, Imelda. “Adaptations: the Contemporary Dilemmas.” Adaptations: From Text to Screen, Screen to Text. Eds. Deborah Cartmell and Imelda Whelehan. London: Routledge, 1999. 3-19. Wolgamott, L. Kent. “‘Frankenweenie’ A Box-Office Bomb, But Superior Film.” Lincoln Journal Star, 10 Oct. 2012. 18 Aug. 2014 ‹http://journalstar.com/entertainment/movies/l-kent-wolgamott-frankenweenie-a-box-office-bomb-but-superior/article_42409e82-89b9-5794-8082-7b5de3d469e2.html›. Wood, Robin. “The American Nightmare: Horror in the 70s.” Horror: The Film Reader. Ed. Mark Jancovich. London: Routledge, 2002. 25-32.

Introduction Films with deaf characters often do not focus on the condition of deafness at all. Rather, the characters seem to satisfy a role in the story that either furthers the plot or the audience’s understanding of other hearing characters. The deaf characters can be symbolic, for example as a metaphor for isolation representative of ‘those without a voice’ in a society. The deaf characters’ misunderstanding of auditory cues can lead to comic circumstances, and their knowledge can save them in the case of perilous ones. Sign language, because of its unique linguistic properties and its lack of comprehension by hearing people, can save the day in a story line. Deaf characters are shown in different eras and in different countries, providing a fictional window into their possible experiences. Films shape and reflect cultural attitudes and can serve as a potent force in influencing the attitudes and assumptions of those members of the hearing world who have had few, if any, encounters with deaf people. This article explores categories of literary function as identified by the author, providing examples and suggestions of other films for readers to explore. Searching for Deaf Characters in Film I am a sign language interpreter. Several years ago, I started noticing how deaf characters are used in films. I made a concerted effort to find as many as I could. I referred to John Shuchman’s exhaustive book about deaf actors and subject matter, Hollywood Speaks; I scouted video rental guides (key words were ‘deaf’ or ‘disabled’); and I also plugged in the key words ‘deaf in film’ on Google’s search engine. I decided to ignore the issue of whether or not the actors were actually deaf—a political hot potato in the Deaf community which has been discussed extensively. Similarly, the linguistic or cultural accuracy of the type of sign language used or super-human lip-reading talent did not concern me. What was I looking for? I noticed that few story lines involving deaf characters provide any discussion or plot information related to that character’s deafness. I was puzzled. Why is there signing in the elevator in Jerry Maguire? Why does the guy in Grand Canyon have a deaf daughter? Why would the psychosomatic response to a trauma—as in Psych Out—be deafness rather than blindness? I concluded that not being able to hear carried some special meaning or fulfilled a particular need intrinsic to the plot of the story. I also observed that the functions of deaf characters seem to fall into several categories. Some deaf characters fit into more than one category, serving two or more symbolic purposes at the same time. By viewing and analysing the representations of deafness and deaf characters in forty-six films, I have come up with the following classifications: Deafness as a plot device Deaf characters as protagonist informants Deaf characters as a parallel to the protagonist Sign language as ‘hero’ Stories about deaf/hearing relationships A-normal-guy-or-gal-who-just-happens-to-be-deaf Deafness as a psychosomatic response to trauma Deafness as metaphor Deafness as a symbolic commentary on society Let your fingers do the ‘talking’ Deafness as Plot Device Every element of a film is a device, but when the plot hinges on one character being deaf, the story succeeds because of that particular character having that particular condition. The limitations or advantages of a deaf person functioning within the hearing world establish the tension, the comedy, or the events which create the story. In Hear No Evil (1993), Jillian learns from her hearing boyfriend which mechanical devices cause ear-splitting noises (he has insomnia and every morning she accidentally wakes him in very loud ways, eg., she burns the toast, thus setting off the smoke detector; she drops a metal spoon down the garbage disposal unit). When she is pursued by a murderer she uses a fire alarm, an alarm/sprinkler system, and a stereo turned on full blast to mask the sounds of her movements as she attempts to hide. Jillian and her boyfriend survive, she learns about sound, her boyfriend learns about deafness, and she teaches him the sign for orgasm. Life is good! The potential comic aspects of deafness may seem in this day and age to be shockingly politically incorrect. While the slapstick aspect is often innocent and means no overt harm or insult to the Deaf as a population, deafness functions as the visual banana peel over which the characters figuratively stumble in the plot. The film, See No Evil, Hear No Evil (1989), pairing Gene Wilder with Richard Pryor as deaf and blind respectively, is a constant sight gag of lip-reading miscues and lack-of-sight gags. Wilder can speak, and is able to speech read almost perfectly, almost all of the time (a stereotype often perpetuated in films). It is mind-boggling to imagine the detail of the choreography required for the two actors to convince the audience of their authenticity. Other films in this category include: Suspect It’s a Wonderful Life Murder by Death Huck Finn One Flew over the Cuckoo’s NestThe Shop on Main StreetRead My Lips The Quiet Deaf Characters as Protagonist Informants Often a deaf character’s primary function to the story is to give the audience more information about, or form more of an affinity with, the hearing protagonist. The deaf character may be fascinating in his or her own right, but generally the deafness is a marginal point of interest. Audience attitudes about the hearing characters are affected because of their previous or present involvement with deaf individuals. This representation of deafness seems to provide a window into audience understanding and appreciation of the protagonist. More inferences can be made about the hearing person and provides one possible explanation for what ensues. It is a subtle, almost subliminal trick. There are several effective examples of this approach. In Gas, Food, Lodging (1992), Shade discovers that tough-guy Javier’s mother is deaf. He introduces Shade to his mother by simple signs and finger-spelling. They all proceed to visit and dance together (mom feels the vibrations on the floor). The audience is drawn to feel ‘Wow! Javier is a sensitive kid who has grown up with a beautiful, exotic, deaf mother!’ The 1977 film, Looking for Mr. Goodbar presents film-goers with Theresa, a confused young woman living a double life. By day, she is a teacher of deaf children. Her professor in the Teacher of the Deaf program even likens their vocation to ‘touching God’. But by night she cruises bars and engages in promiscuous sexual activity. The film shows how her fledgling use of signs begins to express her innermost desires, as well as her ability to communicate and reach out to her students. Other films in this category include: Miracle on 34th Street (1994 version)Nashville (1975, dir. Robert Altman)The Family StoneGrand CanyonThere Will Be Blood Deaf Characters as a Parallel to the Protagonist I Don’t Want to Talk about It (1993) from Argentina, uses a deaf character to establish an implied parallel story line to the main hearing character. Charlotte, a dwarf, is friends with Reanalde, who is deaf. The audience sees them in the first moments of the film when they are little girls together. Reanalde’s mother attempts to commiserate with Charlotte’s mother, establishing a simultaneous but unseen story line somewhere else in town over the course of the story. The setting is Argentina during the 1930s, and the viewer can assume that disability awareness is fairly minimal at the time. Without having seen Charlotte’s deaf counterpart, the audience still knows that her story has contained similar struggles for ‘normalcy’ and acceptance. Near the conclusion of the film, there is one more glimpse of Reanalde, when she catches the bridal bouquet at Charlotte’s wedding. While having been privy to Charlotte’s experiences all along, we can only conjecture as to what Reanalde’s life has been. Sign Language as ‘Hero’ The power of language, and one’s calculated use of language as a means of escape from a potentially deadly situation, is shown in The River Wild (1996). The reason that any of the hearing characters knows sign language is that Gail, the protagonist, has a deaf father. Victor appears primarily to allow the audience to see his daughter and grandson sign with him. The mother, father, and son are able to communicate surreptitiously and get themselves out of a dangerous predicament. Signing takes an iconic form when the signs BOAT, LEFT, I-LOVE-YOU are drawn on a log suspended over the river as a message to Gail so that she knows where to steer the boat, and that her husband is still alive. The unique nature of sign language saves the day– silently and subtly produced, right under the bad guys’ noses! Stories about Deaf/Hearing Relationships Because of increased awareness and acceptance of deafness, it may be tempting to assume that growing up deaf or having any kind of relationship with a deaf individual may not pose too much of a challenge. Captioning and subtitling are ubiquitous in the USA now, as is the inclusion of interpreters on stages at public events. Since the inception of USA Public Law 94-142 and section 504 in 1974, more deaf children are ‘mainstreamed’ into public schools than ever before. The Americans with Disabilities Act was passed in 1993, opening the doors in the US for more access, more job opportunities, more inclusion. These are the external manifestations of acceptance that most viewers with no personal exposure to deafness may see in the public domain. The nuts and bolts of growing up deaf, navigating through opposing philosophical theories regarding deaf education, and dealing with parents, siblings, and peers who can’t communicate, all serve to form foundational experiences which an audience rarely witnesses. Children of a Lesser God (1986), uses the character of James Leeds to provide simultaneous voiced translations of the deaf student Sarah’s comments. The audience is ushered into the world of disparate philosophies of deaf education, a controversy of which general audiences may not have been previously unaware. At the core of James and Sarah’s struggle is his inability to accept that she is complete as she is, as a signing not speaking deaf person. Whether a full reconciliation is possible remains to be seen. The esteemed teacher of the deaf must allow himself to be taught by the deaf. Other films in this category include: Johnny Belinda (1949, 1982)Mr. Holland’s OpusBeyond SilenceThe Good ShepherdCompensation A Normal Guy-or-Gal-Who-Just-Happens-to-Be-Deaf The greatest measure of equality is to be accepted on one's own merits, with no special attention to differences or deviations from whatever is deemed ‘the norm.’ In this category, the audience sees the seemingly incidental inclusion of a deaf or hearing-impaired person in the casting. A sleeper movie titled Crazy Moon (1986) is an effective example. Brooks is a shy, eccentric young hearing man who needs who needs to change his life. Vanessa is deaf and works as a clerk in a shop while takes speech lessons. She possesses a joie de vivre that Brooks admires and wishes to emulate. When comparing the way they interact with the world, it is apparent that Brooks is the one who is handicapped. Other films in this category include: Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (South Korea, 1992)Liar, LiarRequiem for a DreamKung Fu HustleBangkok DangerousThe Family StoneDeafness as a Psychosomatic Response to Trauma Literature about psychosomatic illnesses enumerates many disconcerting and disruptive physiological responses. However, rarely is there a PTSD response as profound as complete blockage of one of the five senses, ie; becoming deaf as a result of a traumatic incident. But it makes great copy, and provides a convenient explanation as to why an actor needn't learn sign language! The rock group The Who recorded Tommy in 1968, inaugurating an exciting and groundbreaking new musical genre – the rock opera. The film adaptation, directed by Ken Russell, was released in 1975. In an ironic twist for a rock extravaganza, the hero of the story is a ‘deaf, dumb, and blind kid.’ Tommy Johnson becomes deaf when he witnesses the murder of his father at the hands of his step-father and complicit mother. From that moment on, he is deaf and blind. When he grows up, he establishes a cult religion of inner vision and self-discovery. Another film in this category is Psych Out. Deafness as a Metaphor Hearing loss does not necessarily mean complete deafness and/or lack of vocalization. Yet, the general public tends to assume that there is utter silence, complete muteness, and the inability to verbalize anything at all. These assumptions provide a rich breeding ground for a deaf character to personify isolation, disenfranchisement, and/or avoidance of the harsher side of life. The deafness of a character can also serve as a hearing character’s nemesis. Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995) chronicles much of the adult life of a beleaguered man named Glenn Holland whose fondest dream is to compose a grand piece of orchestral music. To make ends meet he must teach band and orchestra to apparently disinterested and often untalented students in a public school. His golden son (named Cole, in honor of the jazz great John Coltrane) is discovered to be deaf. Glenn’s music can’t be born, and now his son is born without music. He will never be able to share his passion with his child. He learns just a little bit of sign, is dismissive of the boy’s dreams, and drifts further away from his family to settle into a puddle of bitterness, regrets, and unfulfilled desires. John Lennon’s death provides the catalyst for Cole’s confrontation with Glenn, forcing the father to understand that the gulf between them is an artificial one, perpetuated by the unwillingness to try. Any other disability could not have had the same effect in this story. Other films in this category include: Ramblin’ RoseBabelThe Heart Is a Lonely HunterA Code Unkown Deafness as a Symbolic Commentary on Society Sometimes films show deafness in a different country, during another era, and audiences receive a fictionalized representation of what life might have been like before these more enlightened times. The inability to hear and/or speak can also represent the more generalized powerlessness that a culture or a society’s disenfranchised experience. The Chinese masterpiece To Live (1994) provides historical and political reasons for Fenxi’s deafness—her father was a political prisoner whose prolonged absence brought hardship and untended illness. Later, the chaotic political situation which resulted in a lack of qualified doctors led to her death. In between these scenes the audience sees how her parents arrange a marriage with another ‘handicapped’ comrade of the town. Those citizens deemed to be crippled or outcast have different overt rights and treatment. The 1996 film Illtown presents the character of a very young teenage boy to represent the powerlessness of youth in America. David has absolutely no say in where he can live, with whom he can live, and the decisions made all around him. When he is apprehended after a stolen car chase, his frustration at his and all of his generation’s predicament in the face of a crumbling world is pounded out on the steering wheel as the police cars circle him. He is caged, and without the ability to communicate. Were he to have a voice, the overall sense of the film and his situation is that he would be misunderstood anyway. Other films in this category include: Stille Liebe (Germany)RidiculeIn the Company of Men Let Your Fingers Do the ‘Talking’ I use this heading to describe films where sign language is used by a deaf character to express something that a main hearing character can’t (or won’t) self-generate. It is a clever device which employs a silent language to create a communication symbiosis: Someone asks a hearing person who knows sign what that deaf person just said, and the hearing person must voice what he or she truly feels, and yet is unable to express voluntarily. The deaf person is capable of expressing the feeling, but must rely upon the hearing person to disseminate the message. And so, the words do emanate from the mouth of the person who means them, albeit self-consciously, unwillingly. Jerry Maguire (1996) provides a signed foreshadowing of character metamorphosis and development, which is then voiced for the hearing audience. Jerry and Dorothy have just met, resigned from their jobs in solidarity and rebellion, and then step into an elevator to begin a new phase of their lives. Their body language identifies them as separate, disconnected, and heavily emotionally fortified. An amorous deaf couple enters the elevator and Dorothy translates the deaf man’s signs as, ‘You complete me.’ The sentiment is strong and a glaring contrast to Jerry and Dorothy’s present dynamic. In the end, Jerry repeats this exact phrase to her, and means it with all his heart. We are all made aware of just how far they have traveled emotionally. They have become the couple in the elevator. Other films in this category include: Four Weddings and a FuneralKnowing Conclusion This has been a cursory glance at examining the narrative raison d’etre for the presence of a deaf character in story lines where no discussion of deafness is articulated. A film’s plot may necessitate hearing-impairment or deafness to successfully execute certain gimmickry, provide a sense of danger, or relational tension. The underlying themes and motifs may revolve around loneliness, alienation, or outwardly imposed solitude. The character may have a subconscious desire to literally shut out the world of sound. The properties of sign language itself can be exploited for subtle, undetectable conversations to assure the safety of hearing characters. Deaf people have lived during all times, in all places, and historical films can portray a slice of what their lives may have been like. I hope readers will become more aware of deaf characters on the screen, and formulate more theories as to where they fit in the literary/narrative schema. ReferencesMaltin, Leonard. Leonard Maltin’s 2009 Movie Guide. Penguin Group, 2008.Shuchman, John S. Hollywood Speaks. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1988. Filmography Babel. Dir. Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu. Central Films, 2006. DVD. Bangkok Dangerous. Dir. Pang Brothers. Film Bangkok, 1999. VHS. Beyond Silence. Dir. Caroline Link. Miramax Films, 1998. DVD. Children of a Lesser God. Dir. Randa Haines. Paramount Pictures, 1985. DVD. A Code Unknown. Dir. Michael Heneke. MK2 Editions, 2000. DVD. Compensation. Dir. Zeinabu Irene Davis. Wimmin with a Mission Productions, 1999. VHS. Crazy Moon. Dir. Allan Eastman. Allegro Films, 1987. VHS. The Family Stone. Dir. Mike Bezucha. 20th Century Fox, 2005. DVD. Four Weddings and a Funeral. Dir. Mike Newell. Polygram Film Entertainment, 1994. DVD. Gas, Food, Lodging. Dir. Allison Anders. IRS Media, 1992. DVD. The Good Shepherd. Dir. Robert De Niro. Morgan Creek, TriBeCa Productions, American Zoetrope, 2006. DVD. Grand Canyon. Dir. Lawrence Kasdan, Meg Kasdan. 20th Century Fox, 1991. DVD. Hear No Evil. Dir. Robert Greenwald. 20th Century Fox, 1993. DVD. The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter. Dir. Robert Ellis Miller. Warner Brothers, 1968. DVD. Huck Finn. Stephen Sommers. Walt Disney Pictures, 1993. VHS. I Don’t Want to Talk about It. Dir. Maria Luisa Bemberg. Mojame Productions, 1994. DVD. Knowing. Dir. Alex Proyas. Escape Artists, 2009. DVD. Illtown. Dir. Nick Gomez. 1998. VHS. In the Company of Men. Dir. Neil LaBute. Alliance Atlantis Communications,1997. DVD. It’s a Wonderful Life. Dir. Frank Capra. RKO Pictures, 1947. DVD. Jerry Maguire. Dir. Cameron Crowe. TriSTar Pictures, 1996. DVD. Johnny Belinda. Dir. Jean Nagalesco. Warner Brothers Pictures, 1948. DVD. Kung Fu Hustle. Dir. Stephen Chow. Film Production Asia, 2004. DVD. Liar, Liar. Dir. Tom Shadyac. Universal Pictures, 1997. DVD. Looking for Mr. Goodbar. Dir. Richard Brooks. Paramount Miracle on 34th Street. Dir. Les Mayfield. 20th Century Fox, 1994. DVD. Mr. Holland’s Opus. Dir. Stephen Hereck. Hollywood Pictures, 1996. DVD Murder by Death. Dir. Robert Moore. Columbia Pictures, 1976. VHS. Nashville. Dir. Robert Altman. Paramount Pictures, 1975. DVD. One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Dir. Milos Forman. United Artists, 1975. DVD. The Perfect Circle. Dir. Ademir Kenovic. 1997. DVD. Psych Out. Dir. Richard Rush. American International Pictures, 1968. DVD. The Quiet. Dir. Jamie Babbit. Sony Pictures Classics, 2005. DVD. Ramblin’ Rose. Dir. Martha Coolidge. Carolco Pictures, 1991. DVD. Read My Lips. Dir. Jacques Audiard. Panthe Films, 2001. DVD. Requiem for a Dream. Dir. Darren Aronofsky. Artisan Entertainment, 2000. DVD. Ridicule. Dir. Patrice Laconte. Miramax Films, 1996. DVD. The River Wild. Dir. Curtis Hanson. Universal Pictures, 1995. DVD. See No Evil, Hear No Evil. Dir. Arthur Hiller. TriSTar Pictures,1989. DVD. The Shop on Main Street. Dir. Jan Kadar, Elmar Klos. Barrandov Film Studio, 1965. VHS. Stille Liebe. Dir. Christoph Schaub. T and C Film AG, 2001. DVD. Suspect. Dir. Peter Yates. Tri-Star Pictures, 1987. DVD. Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. Dir. Park Chan-wook. CJ Entertainments, Tartan Films, 2002. DVD. There Will Be Blood. Dir. Paul Thomas Anderson. Paramount Vantage, Miramax Films, 2007. DVD. To Live. Dir. Zhang Yimou. Shanghai Film Studio and ERA International, 1994. DVD. What the Bleep Do We Know?. Dir. Willam Arntz, Betsy Chasse, Mark Vicente. Roadside Attractions, 2004. DVD.

Introduction This paper is based upon an investigation into the life of a street market in the city of Ha Noi in Vietnam, and experience of the street food served on Ha Noi’s pavements. It draws upon interviews with itinerant food vendors conducted by the researchers and upon accounts of their daily lives from a Vietnamese film subtitled in English and French, sourced from the Vietnamese Women’s Museum (Jensen). The research considers the lives of the people making and selling street food against the distilled versions of cultural experience accessible through the pages of two recent English language cookbooks focussing upon this cuisine. The data from the fieldwork is used as a point for critical comparison (Fram) with recipes and descriptions from Hanoi Street Food (Vandenberghe and Thys) and Vietnamese Street Food (Lister and Pohl), two recent relevant English language cookbooks. The research question addressed is “How are the everyday lives of Vietnamese street market cooks (mis)represented in cookery-related books published for an English-language readership?” The research team comprises an Australian Cultural Studies academic (Lelia Green) and a bi-lingual Vietnamese researcher (Nguyen Hong Van), who is Ha Noi born and bred, but who has lived overseas and whose first degree, in Sociology, is from a Canadian university. In each other’s company and over a period of some weeks, Lelia and Van spent more than 40 hours on ethnographic fieldwork in street markets, and interviewing street vendors. The purpose of the research was exploratory, but it was also undertaken as a means of making the labour and lives of marginalised women more visible, since most itinerant food vendors in Vietnam are women (Jensen). As Bhomik notes, male vendors “are engaged in motor cycle repair or sale of higher priced goods such as personal products, souvenirs etc. and their earnings are higher” (2261). Although the teamwork between Lelia and Van went some way to resolve the challenges posed by insider/outsider qualitative research (Corbin, Dwyer, and Buckle), Van has never lived or worked as a street vendor. First Take an Informal Street Market … Eating on the Street An informal Vietnamese street market is a multi-layered space, ordered according to the geography of the area in which the food is prepared and consumed. The informality of a street market indicates its status between legitimacy and repression. Informal street markets spring up in locales where there is significant demand—usually office workers nearby, and schools. The food they sell is cheap and flavourful, catering for the needs of people who have little time or money and want something hot and nourishing to start, punctuate, or end the day. As markets grow, so the vendors in the market constitute a secondary population in need of sustenance. Itinerant street vendors carry with them everything they need for their day’s work. Typically this includes a little oil or coal-based stove, their raw ingredients, dishes or trays for food preparation and serving, often a bowl for washing food or utensils, and a large bag to carry the dirty dishes used by their customers. Often these tools of their trade will be carried in two baskets balanced upon a pole that acts as a yoke across the vendor’s neck. Sometimes well-resourced vendors will also carry, (or push a bicycle or cart with), sets of small plastic stools and tables, so that their clients can sit and enjoy their food. In the semi-tropical climate of Ha Noi, carrying the raw materials to cook for and feed dozens of patrons is a tiring and difficult business. These street vendors’s lives are made more complex by the semi-legitimacy of the informal street market where itinerants are viewed as potential sources of income by a series of officials who extort small but frequent payments in the form of demanding bribes, or levying fines for illegal activity such as obstructing the pavement (Lincoln). Trung, who sells crab noodles, says the police are the most difficult aspect of her job: “they can come anytime and confiscate all my stuff and give me a fine. One time I was so panicked when I saw them approaching on a small truck that I took all my bowls and ran. The bowl slipped out of my hands and cut into my leg. I still have a deep scar from that accident” (Trung). Now add a smattering of street vendors. Bánh Mỳ: Bread Rolls “1 French baguette”, states the Vandenberghe and Thys recipe for bánh mỳ, implicitly acknowledging the hundred years of French colonisation which provides Vietnam with its excellent breads and pastries, “beat the eggs lightly in a mixing bowl, crumble the paté and combine the paté and the lightly beaten eggs. Put the oil in a small frying pan and cook the omelette […] fold the omelette double and put it on the [grilled, heated] bread […] the variations are endless” (71). The young Vietnamese woman, Anh, sells bánh mỳ trứng ngải cứu, bread rolls with egg cooked with mugwort, an aromatic leafy herb. She explains her initial motivation to sell food on the street: “some women in my village already came to the city to sell. I can’t earn much money at home and I need money to send my children to school, so I decided to follow them” (Anh). She shares rented accommodation in the city with other women—sometimes up to ten people in a room (Jensen)—and starts her day at 4.30am, washing vegetables and preparing her baskets. Although a street trader herself, she is networked into a complex set of supply and delivery connections. Her eggs and bread are delivered fresh each morning and she buys the mugwort from a market near her lodgings. “I leave home around 6am and start walking along the streets. […] I mostly sell to shop keepers. They have to stay in their shop so I bring breakfast to them. I walk through a lot of streets, whenever someone calls out I will stop and make bread for them” (Anh). Mid-morning, at around 10am, Anh goes back to her home to have lunch and prepare for the afternoon, with a fresh delivery of eggs around 1.00-1.30pm. Usually, she leaves again around 2.00pm “but if it’s too hot outside, I will stay until 3pm, because it is very tiring to walk in the heat, and people don’t eat that early either. I go home whenever I sell out […], sometimes as early as 4pm, or as late as 7pm” (Anh). Like many street vendors, Anh has sought out points of contact with the local community to punctuate her walking with episodes of rest. Her customers are mainly other Vietnamese people, “shop keepers and residents of the streets I walk along every day. There is an old lady. I sit in front of her shop every afternoon from 3pm to 5pm. She eats one egg every day” (Anh). Anh has been selling Bánh mỳ on the streets for three years, but this is not her only source of income: “At home I grow rice, but I can only harvest it at the end of the season. It only takes a storm or hail to destroy the whole effort I spend for months […] This [food] is very easy to make, and I make a little profit everyday” (Anh). She has never worked from a recipe book: “I think only people in hotels, like a big chef who makes complicated dishes need recipes, this one is very easy, just a common everyday food” (Anh). As for the problems posed by the policing of informal markets, Anh says: “if I am not careful, the ward police will give me a fine for selling on the street.” Such a calamity can write off the profit of many hours’ or days’ work. Xôi: Sticky Rice Xôi is a popular street food dish, and Lister and Pohl provide two recipes, one for xôi lạc (sticky rice with peanuts)(68), and one for xôi xéo (sticky rice with turmeric and mung beans, and fried shallots) (80). Nga, the xôi seller interviewed for this research, sells both types of sticky rice along with xôi gậc (a festive red sticky rice cooked with and coloured by spiny bitter gourd, and typically eaten at Tết, the celebration for the Lunar New Year) and xôi đỗ đen, sticky rice with black bean. She used to specialise in only one kind of sticky rice but, as she says, “business was slow so I added other types of sticky rice. I sit here in the morning everyday anyway, so I sell different types, a small quantity for each” (Nga). The biggest complication for street vendors selling sticky rice is the requirement that it is still being steamed just before being sold, so that it is hot, soft, and sticky, and not dried out. The cooked sticky rice is usually packed in banana leaves under a plastic cover and put in a bamboo basket. The basket helps with ventilation while banana leaves keep the rice moist and the plastic cover keeps in heat. Traditionally, xôi is also sold in banana leaves. Nga uses first a layer of banana leaf, then one of plastic, and finally newspaper. Nga is a grandmother and constructs her street vending as a retirement job, which puts food on the table for her husband and herself. In Vietnam, there is a tradition that the younger generations look after their elders, but her work as a street vendor means that Nga and her husband can retain their autonomy and help their own family, for longer. Nga starts cooking at 4.00am, but her street food is only one element of her income: “In addition to selling here, I also deliver to restaurants. Actually most of my income comes from them. I deliver at around 5 to 5.30am, and start selling here at 6” (Nga). Both of Lister and Pohl’s recipes start with soaking the sticky rice overnight in water, just as Nga does. She says, “I wash the rice and soak them before I go to bed the night before. I get up, start the stove which uses black coal. I sell out all the rice everyday, otherwise it won’t taste good […] usually I sell out at 8 or 8.30am, 9am at the latest. I don’t work in the afternoon. I pick up my grandchildren at 4pm and take care of them until the end of the day.” Nga has strong views about the place of recipes in cooking, especially in cooking as a business: I don’t need to learn from a book. Written recipes or informal teaching from relatives is the same, they are just the starting point. What matters is you learn from your own experience. For example, you soak your rice for 6 hours today, but your customers complain that the rice is not soft, so you soak it for 8 hours next time. Or maybe you sell to a poorer community, you will adjust your ingredients to cheaper type, so you can reduce your price but still make profit; but if you sell in a richer neighbourhood, you make sure you have good quality, even with higher price, or else they will not buy from you (Nga). Lister and Pohl dedicate a two-page spread (70-1) to Ðặng Thị Sáu and her Xôi shopfront stall, noting that she learned her business from her mother-in-law who was “an itinerant sticky rice peddler for most of her life, walking the city streets, selling from bamboo baskets. It was a hard and uncertain life and not one Sáu wanted to follow” (70). Sáu’s compromise, ultimately, was to sell sticky rice from the comparative security and stability of a fixed location. Lister and Pohl’s focus upon Sáu and her food, along with the pictures of everyday life featured in Vietnamese Street Food, mean that this is more than an inspirational cookbook. It is a vivid introduction to the vernacular foodways of Vietnam “a set of social, economic and cultural practices around the production and consumption of food that are normatively distinctive to an ethnocultural group” (Jonas 119). Bún Riêu Cua: Crab Meat Noodle Crab meat noodle is a complicated recipe and a reminder that many people who eat street food do so because these are favourite Vietnamese dishes which may require considerable effort to prepare. The specialisation of street food vendors, making a complicated dish for the relish of dozens of customers, allows busy Vietnamese workers to enjoy their authentic cuisine at an affordable cost without the time constraints of buying multiple ingredients and making the dish themselves. The recipe in Hanoi Street Food involves several steps: preparation of the sauce using sautéing, frying and reducing (Jones); cooking of the crab in boiling water (not including separately bought crabmeat used in the sauce); creation of a chicken stock, to which the sauce is added; along with the washing and chopping a range of vegetables including soya bean sprouts, spring onions, lettuce, fresh herbs, lime etc., some of which is used as garnish (Vandenberghe, and Thys 90). Trung and her husband have been selling their bún riêu cua for five years. For nine years prior to working as a street food vendor, Trung was a recyclables collector. She began working in the city when she “followed a cousin to Ha Noi so I could earn money to support my family of six people. At first I collected materials such as plastic bottles, metal, papers, etc, but because I carried too much on my shoulders, I developed severe back pain and shoulder pain” (Trung). Now she and her husband use a bicycle to help carry the various necessities for her bún riêu cua street stall, using the vehicle to reduce some of the physical burden of the work. Trung learned how to make bún riêu cua from an aunt in Hai Phong, “I just observed her and other people”. The dish remains time consuming, however:I get up at 3am to start preparing the crab and cook the soup. My husband washes vegetables. It often takes us about 2 hours. By 5am, we leave the house, and we are here by 5.30, ready to sell breakfast […] I am most busy during lunchtime, from 10am to 1-2pm. Breakfast time can last from 6am to 9am. When I am not selling to customers I often get tired and easily fall asleep because I always crave sleep. In between, my husband and I wash dishes. He also delivers to people too. We get lots of phone calls from patients of the hospitals nearby. They say my food is more delicious than food in the hospital’s canteen […] Usually I go home around 4pm in the summer and 5 to 6pm in the winter. But I also stop by different shops to buy ingredients for the next day on my way home. Once I get home, I wash the bowls, re-supply and re-arrange my stuffs, and do some preparation. I work until I go to bed at 9pm (Trung). The illustration for this recipe in Hanoi Street Food is not of the dish itself, but of young Vietnamese men enjoying the dish. As is the case with Lister and Pohl, Vandenberghe and Thys’s book is about more than recipes, it is a rich evocation of daily life on the streets of Vietnam. Serve with a Side-dish of Conclusions Authentic street food is cooked, sold and consumed on the street. However, street food cookbooks tend to recommended shopfront eateries, partly because they are easier to find, and are more convenient, in that neither the tourist nor the vendor is at risk of police intervention. Another reason for featuring the more established vendors with their own premises concerns food hygiene: In 1989 the Vietnamese government adopted a law on the protection of people’s health. A survey on food samples in Hanoi showed that 47 per cent were microbiologically unsafe. [This has now changed.] The government has adopted two practices for ensuring safer street food, namely, monitoring street food vendors through a licensing system, and educating and training them on hygiene (Bhowmik 2260). Such licensing, training and the maintenance of hygiene standards are more difficult to police with itinerant food vendors. In the two cookbooks featured, ingredients tend to be measured as to specific amounts, with the idea that the result should be predictable. Street vendors, however, learn to cook their signature dishes from friends, relatives, and experience. They do not measure their ingredients while cooking, and their products vary from one vendor to another, and also to some extent from day to day, even given the same cook. This creates a special characteristic of street food and means that regular customers gravitate to particular vendors whose choice of seasoning and cooking techniques culminates in the most attractive results according to their personal taste. While there are lots of stalls captioned as bánh mỳ, regular customers will find that there are significant differences between stalls. One reason for this is offered in Lister and Pohl: small quantities of special ingredients that are difficult to get in Vietnam and impossible elsewhere. The cook in a featured Bánh cuốn stall (selling rice pancakes) adds a drop of giant water bug juice to season her dipping broth: “ ‘It’s the real thing! One drop off the top of a chopstick is enough’ she explains” (Lister, and Pohl 33). As is clear from the interviews with vendors, itinerant sellers of street food don’t use recipe books, and have generally learned how to cook their dishes through women’s networks of family and friends. The two cookbooks discussed are designed for consumption by people who engage in or aspire to “food and drink tourism” (Boniface vii) in Vietnam, whether the readers have visited in person or become aware of the cuisine through popular culture, such as Luke Nguyen’s SBS cooking shows (Nguyen). They are as much coffee table books as collections of recipes, and are written by westerners for a western readership. The recipes focus on ingredients that can be sourced in everyday western contexts but the beautiful and evocative photographs of daily life in Vietnam, supplemented by written commentary on people and place, clearly locate the recipes in their Vietnamese cultural context. Culinary tourism allows people unfamiliar with a cuisine and culture to use “food to explore new cultures and ways of being” (Long 21). Street food vendors are part of many communities. They require knowledge, skill, and personal networks to acquire the quality ingredients at the best possible price for the daily routine of food preparation and selling. Whereas recipe books deal with domestic-scale food production, a vendor may cook for a hundred or more people in a single day. Many itinerant street food sellers work in the city to support absent husbands and children in rural locations, taking money home on a regular basis ($20 profit a fortnight makes their labour worthwhile), and spending 10 days in 14 on the streets (Jensen). As women help each other to begin a career as a vendor through oral teaching, observation, and first-hand experience, they do away with the invisible, authoritative voice of cookbooks. Itinerant food sellers are also a part of the larger communities in which they work, including customers, their suppliers, and other actors such as the authorities and the media. This larger community sets the tone for their food, and their lives. The vast majority of vendors of street food are women, prepared to work hard and with passion and pride to make enough money to make a difference to their families. Books about street food might help recreate some of the dishes that can be bought on the streets of Vietnam. After participating in street life, however, as an observer or customer, it becomes clear that recipe cookbooks intended for English readers only capture part of the complexity and beauty of street food, and the lives of those who make it. References Anh. Personal communication. Trans. Nguyen Hong Van. 2013. Boniface, Priscilla. Tasting Tourism: Travelling for Food and Drink. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003. Bhowmik, Sharit K. “Street Vendors in Asia: A Review.” Economic and Political Weekly (2005): 2256–64. Burr, Vivien. Social Constructionism. 2nd ed. Oxford: Routledge, 2003. Corbin Dwyer, Sonya, and Jennifer L. Buckle. “The Space Between: On Being an Insider-Outsider in Qualitative Research.” International Journal of Qualitative Methods 8.1 (2009): 54–63. Fram, Sheila M. “The Constant Comparative Analysis Method Outside of Grounded Theory.” The Qualitative Report 18, Article 1 (2013): 1–25. 28 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.nova.edu/ssss/QR/QR18/fram1.pdf›. Jensen, Rolf. Street Vendors [DVD of three films, Their Voices, Thuy’s Story and Loi’s Story]. Ha Noi: Vietnamese Women’s Museum, 2012. Jonas, Tammi. “Eating the Vernacular, Being Cosmopolitan.” Cultural Studies Review 19.1 (2013): 117–37. 19 May 2013 ‹http://epress.lib.uts.edu.au/journals/index.php/csrj/article/viewFile/3076/3428›. Jones, G. Stephen. “The Difference between Sautéing, Pan Frying and Stir Frying [blog post].” The Reluctant Gourmet. 30 Apr. 2010. 28 Apr. 2013 ‹http://reluctantgourmet.com/cooking-techniques/frying/item/856-saute-pan-fry-and-stir-fry›. Lincoln, Martha. “Report from the Field: Street Vendors and the Informal Sector in Hanoi.” Dialectical Anthropology 32.3 (2008): 261–5. Lister, Tracey, and Andreas Pohl. Vietnamese Street Food. Rev. ed. Melbourne: Hardie Grant, 2013. Long, Lucy. “A Folkloristic Perspective on Eating and Otherness.” Culinary Tourism. Ed. Lucy Long. Lexington: UP of Kentucky, 2004. 20–50. Nga. Personal communication. (trans. Nguyen Hong Van), 2013. Nguyen, Luke. Luke Nyugen’s Vietnam [SBS]. 2009 ‹http://www.sbs.com.au/shows/lukenguyen/watchonline/page/i/1/show/lukenguyen›. Trung. Personal communication. Trans. Nguyen Hong Van. 2013. Vandenberghe, Tom, and Luk Thys. Hanoi Street Food: Cooking and Travelling in Vietnam. Tielt: Uitgeverij Lannoo nv, 2011.

Ingredients: Men, Women, Modern Kitchens, and the Gender Culture For working couples, the end of the day brings to the middle-class family with children the need to prepare the evening meal. Beyond an instrumental task to be performed, the kitchen space is hereafter the locus where the gender culture becomes visible. Who cooks? How does he/she cook? How good does he/she cook? In answering these questions, two main variables of context have to be clearly addressed. Firstly, contemporary gender culture promotes both men and women as “equal potential cookers.” Claims for gender equality are pervasive in the kitchen space, traditionally occupied by women, whose socialisation to be a “perfect housewife” served as a guarantee that they would “naturally” be good cooks, as well as good wives and mothers (Parsons and Bales). Currently, however, because individuals are now less defined by the traditional gender roles (Beck, Giddens, and Lash), one can expect either the man or the woman, or both, to prepare meals. From “sacrifice to gift” (Kaufmann), the possibilities are as numerous as the individuals who carry with them different and multiple socialisation processes that they differently mobilise in distinctive settings (Lahire). Secondly, the space of the kitchen has never been so technologically advanced as today. Contrary to images of a tiring, time-consuming, and demanding family workspace, the contemporary kitchens are equipped with such machinery assuring for efficiency, time domain, and aesthetic appeal (Daly, Gillis, Kaufmann, and Silva). Moreover, a paraphernalia of highly sophisticated equipment promises to help even the most awkward to be a successful and impressive chef. Nonetheless, the kitchens’ space has not ceased to be a profound and complex arena of family life, intimacy, and sociability (Southerton). Additionally, tradition, cultural heritage, knowledge, expertise, tenderness, pleasure, love, passion, and even sex: those are some of the “ingredients” with which media and popular culture socially construct the kitchen’s space (see for instance, the films Woman on Top, and Eat Pray Love, and television series Hell’s Kitchen featuring chef Gordon Ramsay). In this paper, I analyse the exploitation of the cookbook as an instrument used by some women aiming to encourage a greater participation rate among men in the cooking task. To study this topic was not an initial aim of research. Instead, it has emerged in the broader context of a previous sociological research devoted to the study of family practices (Morgan, Family Connections and Rethinking Family Practices), specifically family rituals within Portuguese middle-class families (Costa). Data was collected through episodic interviews (Flick) applied to both men and women with at least one child between the age of 3 and 14 years old. In this major study, a theoretical sample (Glaser and Strauss) of 30 individuals (with a mean age of 38 years old) were asked to describe in detail their “normal” and “special” moments or days. Through a subsequent content analysis (Bardin) carried out with the qualitative software NVivo (developed by QSR ©International), the cooking task has emerged from the data as a meaningful category. Findings presented and discussed hereafter are based upon the interviewees’s accounts that focus on a very circumscribed phase of their daily life, namely when they arrive home at the end of the day and need to prepare a “good,” “quick” meal. Particularly, in the case of the men’s accounts, the mention to the ways women urge men to participate (more) in the cooking tasks become prominent when talking about the use of the Bimby and it’s correlated recipe book. The Bimby (Thermomix) is a multi-function food processor intended for domestic use, commercialized by German company Vorwerk since the 1970s, yet only more recently having gained wide popularity in Portugal (Truninger). In short, this text focuses on the cookbook and related “mundane practices” (Martens) within the context of the appropriation of high-tech equipment in the kitchen to discuss the power of the socialisation of gender. Our argument is that cookbooks can be a way to dissipate the old difficulties that men, particularly, face in the kitchen; and at the same time, their use (and misuse) reinforces the persistence of some gaps due to previous and unequal socialisation regarding cookery as a skill. Preparation: Places, Spaces, Tasks, and (Traditional) Social Roles When arriving home early in the evening, both men and women usually occupy different spaces and perform different tasks, thus assuming distinctive social roles (Costa). Notwithstanding some recent changes causing a greater participation of men in domestic life (Wall, Aboim, and Cunha), Portuguese families still experience a very unequal household division of labour. At the same time that Portuguese women participate strongly in the paid work economy, especially on a full-time basis, they also undertake the majority of the household chores—both in number and time spent in doing so—such as the regular tasks of cooking, washing, and cleaning (Aboim, Wall and Amâncio). In most cases analysed in this study, there also remains a clear division of tasks concerning the preparation of the daily evening meal. Whereas the woman frequently prepares the evening meal, the man more often performs complimentary tasks such as setting the table for dinner and, afterwards, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and removing them once washed. Underlying this, couples seem to have negotiated an “agreement of exchange,” where women are responsible for a particular task, while men preferably “assume” or “choose another one.” Hence, insofar as women assume the task of cooking on a regularly basis, the participation of men in the preparation of meals is far more episodic (for example, at the weekend, for parties, at Christmas time or on some other special day or occasion). This can explain why men more often refer to the exact content of the daily meals they prepare as relatively “simple” and “fast”—dishes such as “grilled,” “tidbits,” “fries,” or precooked food for microwave are common. The “unpreparedness” or “lack of practice” of men and, consequently, the “greater experience” and/or “preparation” of their wives/partners are, coincidentally, evoked to justify why men do not participate more in the meal preparation. Both men and women refer either to the “tradition” or to a certain “naturalisation” of the women’s skills as the main arguments for the way they share tasks around the evening meal. Actually, most of the men who were interviewed admitted not being “ready” or “prepared” to perform specific tasks once married or living with a partner. The “blame” seems to be in the fact that they were not socialised to clean, wash, or cook when unmarried. When living with their parents, they were responsible for only minor tasks like tidying up their rooms, making their beds, or taking out the garbage. At other times, they may have “aided” their parents, yet only when “asked to do so.” In fact, when compared to women, these men were not domestically socialised as children or teenagers. Let us also remember that many came directly from their origin families into a procreation family. Thus, when they entered into a marital status, the task of cooking passed “automatically and intuitively” from their mothers into the hands of their wives/partners. Only with the (rare) deliberate refusal of the woman to cook does the male’s unpreparedness to cook become an issue and (may be) regarded as a problem in the couple’s relationship. The unpreparedness of males to cook is particularly evident in the absence of women, notably in post-divorce situations. Those who had performed cooking tasks previously or during the marriage were usually better prepared. For others, carrying out these tasks, either by choice or by imposition (for example, due to financial difficulties in the post-divorce period), meant facing many internalised social constraints. The support from close female figures (mother, friends, girlfriend, or colleagues) seems to be crucial in the path of self-instruction. The cookbook is both a new and old instrument that (also) serves this purpose. Variation: Bringing Men into the Kitchen with Cookbooks At this point, a variation is introduced in the gender division of labour related to the food preparation noted above. It is true that the generalisation of technology for cooking has followed in time the entry of men into the kitchen. In this context, I now turn upon specific accounts of men when referring to the use of the Bimby (Thermomix) in association with its recipe book. This food processor combines the functions of various utensils and small kitchen appliances: “it minces, chops, purees, weighs, stirs, grates, grinds, blends, cooks and simmers; in fact, it does the work of at least twelve kitchen devices and practically cleans itself when food preparation is done” (Vorwerk). Additionally, in order to be exploited to the fullest, the Thermomix comes with a cookbook whose instructions should be, it states, strictly followed. With this appliance, offering 12 functions in one single product, one can cook “everyday meals or elaborate menus, European or Asian specialties” (Vorwerk), with the guarantee that including soups, main courses and desserts, “everything turns out delicious” (Vorwerk). Pedro is 35; he has been married since 2000 and is the father of two boys, one 7 and the other 4 years old. His wife offered him this machine and corresponding cookbook with the aim of “encouraging” him to undertake some cooking tasks. However, he admits, “the result was only partially achieved.” He points out: “I can cook with the Bimby ... and even more through the Bimby; I admit, than with pots and all that.” Although strictly following the cookbook, Pedro recognises that he always “needs more time [than his wife] to make things work well in the kitchen.” Pedro feels that he lacks the “experience” and “training” that enables his wife to cook everything “very fast”: “Cooking very [emphasis added], very fast, honestly: I can’t! She can do it even when she is in a hurry ... If I have to read the recipes ... I have to take enough time to read and interpret them! And she ... she usually does it ... she doesn’t even have to think about it!” The gift of the Bimby was a purposeful means of trying to overcome some of the difficulties Pedro has in the kitchen. Metaphorically, I envisage it as a kind of “sugar” aimed to sweeten Pedro’s lack of cooking skills: “She [his wife] offered me the Bimby but ... the problem, I already told her ‘I could cook, but you have to give me enough time to cook!’”. Surprisingly in relation to such a piece of equipment that promotes itself as “the most superior kitchen appliance” (Vorwerk), using it is not simple for Pedro. The explanation, again, seems to be in the fact that his wife—in his perspective—does everything so “routinely” and in such an “intuitive” way that he can’t follow her example, despite using the cookbook. Additionally, his “inexperience,” “uncertainty,” and “slowness” sometimes rouses a lack of patience in his wife who, in turn, embodies all the opposite attributes. Sometimes, he says, the situation comes to a point where she tells him: “at this pace, it’s not worth it!” These are the cases where the kitchen overflows to an arena of tension, eventually even conflict, between knowing and doing (Casimiro). Pedro then “gets annoyed,” especially when his wife wants to set a pace he cannot keep up with: “Often I tell her ‘if you want to explain things to me, you have to waste some time with it.’ If you do not want to waste time, it [my cooking] is not worth it!”. Rui is 34, lives in a de-facto union and is the father of two boys, one four years of age and the youngest one-year-old. His example adds to the case of Pedro. The Bimby is also the “only cooking experience” Rui has beyond the grill. He admits he uses it, especially to cook soups for his youngest child, but still he prefers to leave his wife responsible for that task while he performs others. He recognises that using the Bimby, the task of cooking the soups is “fairly easy.” However, not everything runs smoothly: “Once I forgot to add water [laughs]; nonetheless, it went well [laughs]; it was not so bad! [laughs]”. The irony is that Rui reveals how he generally prefers to leave the kitchen to this wife: I have a script for kitchen because we have the famous Bimby, you’ve heard about it, right? Ok! I have a cookbook with a script of how to make the soup ... Honestly, I have done it four or five times, no more than that. I’d rather clear up the kitchen, wash the baby bottles, clean up the room, to put one of the kids to bed; these are my evening’ tasks. Not the soup because I ... I ... I even strive to do it ... but the true is that it does not always run smoothly. Both Pedro and Rui reveal the tensions some men face when appropriating kitchen appliances in the context of the contemporary couple’s relationships claiming of equality. Purposely used by some women as a dose of “sugar,” it eventually ends up to “spicing” rather than “sweetening” the relationship. At first sight, the use of the cookbook enables even the most unprepared individual to succeed in the kitchen. Nonetheless, as in the above cases, some men carry with them the (absence) of a socialisation for cooking that strongly shapes their use (and misuse) of the cookbook. The evoked arguments strongly emphasise the “tradition,” “experience,” “training,” “practice” and “mastery” they lack when compared to women. While this can be the epicentre of existing tensions between the couple, it underlines subtle yet profound socialisation processes, internalised values, and social roles. In questioning these complex relations, the transforming power of the cookbook has to be put in relative terms, since it allows—at least sometimes—for only a skin-deep change. Serving: The Cookbook—Sugar or Spice? Notwithstanding the several possible approaches to gendered culture in the kitchen, this text had no quantitative, generalisation, class, or culture comparative purpose. Instead, through a qualitative and in-depth approach, its main goal was to explore both the power and the limits of the cookbook as an instrument sometimes used by women aiming a greater participation of men in the cooking tasks. This arises as a particularly interesting issue in a context where men admitted that they were not domestically socialised as children or teenagers to clean, wash, or cook and, additionally, many of them went directly from their origin families into a procreation family. Summing up, cookbooks are not magical devices that can erase, at once, the complex and profound socialisation processes, internalized values, and social roles. In context, the cookbook can be either “sugar” or “spice” at the top of the gender culture. While, at the forefront, it can be purposely used by women to overcome some of the hardships men face at the kitchen; in the background its use (and misuse) reinforces the persistence of some gaps (still) unveiled through a previous and wider socialisation for cooking. More and more visible in contemporary society as either family or cultural heritage artefacts, media products or scientific outputs, cookbooks remain a site of endless interest, and this is also true in the sociological enquiry. In this article, analysing the use of a specific cookbook by men provides a forum through which the gender cultures can be examined in a simultaneously creative and fruitful way. As in the kitchen, one just has to “light the stove”. References Aboim, Sofia. “Gender Cultures and the Division of Labour in Contemporary Europe: A Cross-national Perspective.” The Sociological Review 58.2 (2010): 171–96. Bardin, Laurence. L’Analyse de Contenu. Paris: PUF, 1977. 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