Comparison Between Karen Hollinger's Feminist Film Studies And Race

There’s something magical about animated movies that can’t quite be captured with a single sentiment. Whether it’s the bright colors of the characters or the mise en scène, the punny humor with the few sly jokes just for adults, or the ability to present complex social topics to a younger audience in an accessible way, you’re suddenly transported to a world that isn’t limited by real life locations or the physical capabilities of actors. This is especially relevant for the movie Zootopia (2016), which – while falling into the category of “just another kid’s movie” – not only displays a modernized look into the animal kingdom but speaks strongly about stereotypes, racial prejudices, and power dynamics between differing social groups.

The world of Zootopia, created by Bryon Howard, Rich Moore, and Jared Bush, is one where animals in the modern age have decided to move beyond their primitive predator/prey relationships to live in

harmony with one another by wearing clothes, speaking the same language, and working in towns or cities much like what one would find in any developed country. We follow the story of Judy Hopps as she moves from the small town of Bunnyborrow to the grand metropolis of Zootopia with the dream of solving crimes as the first bunny police officer. Despite her short stature and the endless criticism she receives for her career choice, Judy trains and surpasses her “cute and small” stereotype to become the first prey animal ever initiated into the Zootopia Police Department. Her troubles don’t stop there, however, as this sprawling big city that once seemed progressive and unifying is actually far from her idealized utopia: predator animals hold most positions of power, prey are seen as weak and mostly work in service roles or as predator’s assistants, and many people refuse to acknowledge Judy’s position of power because they can only see the prey animal underneath.

If we apply Karen Hollinger’s “Feminist Film Studies and Race” in the context of comparing the prey in this film to marginalized groups in our culture, Hollinger states that “films often work to add feelings of inadequacy or inferiority among blacks, feelings that have their origin in the heritage of imperialism (200).” This theme is seen to consistently apply to Judy, as she struggles to break through her bunny race and prove herself to everyone as strong and capable but is still seen as weak and useless by both her superior police officers and the public she works hard to protect.

However, the context in Zootopia is different from those of marginalized women’s roles in other films: we’re meant to sympathize with Judy and root for her as the underdog, while viewing the criticism and demeaning commentary she receives with a critical eye. It teaches the audience that there is something wrong with the way we treat marginalized groups, and that many of them have the same complexity and drive that the superior groups are often praised

for.

As Brechtian theorists also note, many Hollywood films support a distanciation effect that “prevents the spectator from experiencing contradiction and … [upholds a] fixed relationship between spectator and cinema (McCabe, 23).” However, this movie also challenges that notion by blatantly showing that even marginalized groups can have subconscious biases or hold racist attitudes by showing how Judy as a complex character with weaknesses. She too holds subconscious attitudes about predator animals, and explicitly expresses that they are “dangerous” right in front of her by accident. When he recoils and gets defensive, she tries to backtrack by saying that the stereotype doesn’t apply to him because he’s different. In this way, Judy is then forced to reevaluate her own internalized opinions and spends the rest of the movie acknowledging her problematic behavior and fixing herself, later reflecting on her biases and reminding the audience that we must all look critically at not only the system but also ourselves.

However, while this very progressive movie that does a fantastic job explaining internal and external prejudice and racism to children, it does have a few problematic elements. Even in a world of animals, we still see an example of the movie appealing to the male gaze through the character of Gazelle, a well-known celebrity singer voiced by Shakira. Only ever shown wearing a small crop top and miniskirt, Gazelle’s body movements are animated to be seductive and glide in a way that “her appearance is coded for strong visual and erotic impact so that they can connote to-be-looked-at-ness (Mulvey, 837).” This is especially problematic in the context of this movie, as the target audience is meant to be younger children and even they are being taught to objectify sexualized women (regardless of if they’re animal or human) at an early age:

When I first saw the trailer for this movie, I knew that Zootopia sounded like my perfect way to spend an afternoon. With my equally enthusiastic boyfriend in tow, the two of us walked into the AMC theater in the Rosedale mall area knowing that the overpriced tickets (at $11 a pop) and popcorn (an alarming $7 for a small bag) would be entirely worth it for the enjoyment to come. As someone who typically sees all her movies at St. Anthony Main – a local theater well known for its indie film scene and worn looking aesthetic – it’s always a little jarring for me to walk into a much more commercialized, capitalist paragon of the cinema world. Instead of dim lighting and velvet lined seats, AMC Rosedale is a shiny, bright-lit beacon that ironically looks more like a futuristic movie set of what an alien population would think a theater looked like than an actual theater.

Considering that we were going to a 2PM showing on a Wednesday, we guessed well in advance that the theater would be fairly empty. To our surprise, we walked into a nearly half full theater exclusively dominated by children, all chattering excitedly and shoving their tiny fists of popcorn into their mouths and waving at us excitedly as my boyfriend and I walked past. Besides the occasional chaperone, we quickly realized that the two of us were some of the oldest people in the room. Now, while I’m fairly used to this type of crowd as a children’s movie enthusiast, my boyfriend was shocked and kept getting excited about how loud the theater was in comparison to the standard pre-movie murmur heard in most adult cinemas. This energy definitely transferred over to the movie as well: The kids were dancing along in their seats during musical numbers, loudly whispering questions to their chaperones when a conflict arose, and – in one particularly cute moment- a young boy yelled “BUT THATS MEAN!” after Judy and her fox partner Nick were informed of the villain’s evil plan.

The most important realization for me, however, was that this kids were hearing this simplified description of prejudice and racial bias and they were getting it. Not only would you hear kids murmur when shown animals showing subconscious prejudice, but they reacted to the unfair treatment that some of the animals faced even when the main protagonists didn’t react poorly to it. In a major scene where Judy shows internalized prejudice towards Nick for being a fox, we heard a group below us whisper “but she’s his friend! Why would she think that?!” It was completely different seeing this movie from a child’s point of view, because so many of them have yet to develop any internalized racial prejudiced attitudes of their own. I was expecting so many of them to not understand why fear existed between predator and prey communities or why Judy was so often looked down upon by the community around her, but by the end of the movie many of the talkative kinds seemed to have grasped the concept. This is the main reason I find children’s movie so important and so valid in terms of integrity; if they can teach children to understand basic human injustices and feelings, then what does it say about us as adults?