Film - Charlotte Raven falls in love with a gobshite donkey
The advertising posters for Shrek show a picture of the little green monster on whose story the film is based. Dwarfing that, in huge letters on either side, are the names of a number of famous Hollywood actors - Mike Myers, Eddie Murphy, John Lithgow and Cameron Diaz. Ah, you think, they must be the stars. You wouldn't think for one minute that these actors won't be recognisable, because the combination of the Now cover celeb list and the picture of the animated ogre suggests a film like Roger Rabbit, in which human beings interact with cartoon characters. One imagines Cameron Diaz dancing with the dear little fellow to a big-band version of a Cole Porter staple.
But no. There are no "real" people in Shrek. The celebs don't appear as themselves, but stay on the soundtrack as the voices of the film's cast of computer-animated creatures. After I had seen the film, I thought it rather odd that a modern morality fable about the unimportance of appearance should have given such high billing to a bunch of names whose pulling power as brands is based on the very delusions that the film is trying to undercut. The audiences who respond to these entreaties are in the same moral position as the film's celeb-obsessed Lord Farquaad, whose desire to marry a princess is a fantasy that never takes account of what they are actually like.
The revelation that Princess Fiona, his first choice of trophy wife, is no old-fashioned archetype, but a feisty and forthright young lady with a talent for martial arts and a schoolboy sense of humour, is one of many instances where expectations are overturned by reality. Her love for Shrek, the ogre sent by Farquaad to retrieve her from some faraway turret, redeems her from the storybook conventions she believes in when we first meet her. Expecting to be rescued by a prince, she is deeply annoyed to find that her dragon-slaying hero is a smelly, fat lump of an ogre who neither defers to her nor appears particularly starstruck at finding himself in the presence of a fairy tale made flesh. His disrespect for her image is, we discover, the best thing that could have happened, because it gives her the chance to explore what life would be like if she threw this image aside in favour of simply being herself. She starts having a laugh, and the more relaxed she gets, the more she is able to appreciate the qualities of her bog-dwelling saviour.
Apparently, Mike Myers realised that Shrek should be Scottish only after he had already recorded a completely different version of his voice. Who knows why this should have struck him, or why the penny took so long to drop, but the idea worked out perfectly. The need to convey a character who is nicer than he lets people see is well served by a rather genteel Scottish accent that communicates Shrek's world- weariness in a way that is both sympathetic and broad enough in range to give us a good idea of the layers of his personality. The mean, unsociable fellow we first encounter gives himself away with a kindness in the back of his throat. Because of this, we don't believe him when he says he hates the fairy-tale creatures who have colonised a corner of his bog. From the outset, his desire to be left alone seems to be the product of unhappiness rather than bad blood. A therapist would label him an isolator, and would probably be somewhat quicker than are the muffin man and others to see that his mistrust of the world is grounded in a fear of rejection. With no real evidence to support this fear, he believes that his ugliness makes him unlovable. The thing that convinces him otherwise is not a therapeutic epiphany, but the friendship of a gobshite donkey who won't go away when he is told to and who loves Shrek, even when he's being a twit.
I should say, at this point, that I'm a sucker for anthropomorphised animals - except the chickens in Chicken Run, who were far too sanctimonious, and the mouse in Stuart Little. Otherwise, I'm definitely up for the transformation of mute beasts into recognisable human characters. Show me a rabbit who speaks like a London cabbie and you can watch my critical faculties disappearing out of the window.
For this reason, I'm not sure how good a judge I am of the street-smart donkey in Shrek. I found the idea of making a donkey talk like a backchatting homeboy bloody hilarious, but that doesn't tell you anything. I think I can say with greater certainty that the relationship between him and Shrek was genuinely touching. Whether this was in spite of Eddie Murphy's character or because of it, I will leave you to judge.
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
