Rochelle's term paper for TBG with her permission

Rochelle Tarbert
LSIC A231
William Jamison, Instructor
Term Paper
April 20, 2011

The Moral Narrative of Willow and other Random Tales
“Forget All You Know…or Think You Know”
~High Aldwin

George Lucas’s award-winning 1988 drama/adventure Willow follows a classic good versus evil plot, borrowing its ideas heavily from the Bible and other stories (which, undoubtedly, also have borrowed ideas from the Bible. After all, doesn’t every good story take its ideas from the Bible? On that note, we might begin to wonder if it should be considered plagiarism to more or less copy scripture in screenplays. Can we plagiarize ancient scripture? Are the early prophets going to come back and sue us for copyright infringement? Will God Himself take us to court for stealing His work? Well, maybe not for that, but we have been told that we will be JUDGED, so maybe we won’t really be judged for our own thoughts and actions as we have all undoubtedly assumed; we will actually be judged for stealing story lines from the Bible. That is just something to think about. Okay, back to Willow…)
In the very beginning of the film, the quintessential evil Queen, Bavmorda, learns that the prophecy is about to be fulfilled; a baby who will overthrow her wicked government of is about to be born in the kingdom. If this seems suspiciously familiar, that is not surprising. In Isaiah, chapter seven, verse 14, we see that Christ’s birth was foretold: “Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.”
Bavmorda, like the Bible’s King Herod, will not stand for some infant ruining her delightfully dreadful empire, so she orders that all pregnant women be imprisoned. If a woman gives birth to a daughter, and the baby has a specific birthmark (signifying that she is “the one”), that baby will be murdered. The time comes, the baby is born, the sign is recognized, and Bavmorda is summoned. Willing to sacrifice her own life for her child (another Biblical reference from the book of John, where Jesus tells the people that there is no greater expression than love than to give up one’s life for another), the baby’s mother sends her child with the midwife.
At this point, the music is majestic. James Horner, who has conducted the music for Titanic, Avatar, and other box-office hits, convinces the audience that, even though the midwife struggles to trudge through snowstorms, climb mountains, and slog through dense forests, she is able to save the baby. As the orchestral notes guide us happily through images of the midwife carrying the growing infant through spring meadows, we believe she will escape, in spite of the fact that Bavmorda had released the crazy royal dog-wolf-monster hybrids to chase after the midwife. Without a single word spoken, the music suddenly changes to ominous notes; we hear snarls of the vicious hounds. The midwife rushes (pun—ha ha. Moses. In the rushes… get it?) to place the baby on a patch of grass at the edge of a stream and dislodges the patch to send the baby off to parts yet unknown. The dog things come and rip the midwife to shreds (another woman who sacrifices for a child’s welfare and, ultimately, for all mankind).
Just like Moses, whose life had been endangered by yet another evil ruler, Pharoah, the baby (Elora Danan) floats to safety and is rescued by some Elwyns (little people).
Okay, so now that I have already provided plenty of spoilers, here is the rest of the story in a nutshell: The baby lives, the bad queen dies. Good triumphs over evil, and there is a lot of suspense, excitement, and adventure along the way.
Willow explores many contemporary and historical examples of good and evil. Prejudice is one theme in the story line. Willow is of a race of “little people” called Nelwyns. The “giants” (average-sized people) are called Daikini, and they typically use the derogatory term “peck” when referring to the Nelwyns. The Nelwyns, on the other hand, consider themselves superior to the even smaller, obnoxious Brownies.
Throughout the story, much of the discrimination dissolves as the different races learn to work together and value each other’s contributions toward the common goal of defeating the evil queen. The characters discover that they really are not that different after all, providing they can agree that the queen is someone who needs to be destroyed. Evil queens really do not fare well throughout history. They always get picked on. No one loves an evil queen. It is probably because the queens are always given names that sound bad. Who wants to be friends with someone with an ugly-sounding name? Most of the names given to evil queens, when spoken aloud, sound like a wad of phlegm or something else that needs to be hacked up, like a hairball or vomitus. Bavmorda. BaaaavMorrrrrda. It sounds like the noise that would be made when trying to expel un-chewed orange pith from the back of one’s throat. Maleficent (Sleeping Beauty—Princess Aurora’s evil nemesis) sounds bad, “mal” being the Latin prefix for “bad.” Grimhilde, the alleged name of the wicked queen in Disney’s “Snow White” has a very grim sounding name. These ladies were probably not ever picked first for teams in P.E., nor did they get crowned homecoming royalty. I’m willing to wager that no one wanted to summon them over at lunch: “Yoo hoo! Grimhilde, Maleficent, Bavmorda, come sit at our table!” In fact, it was probably because of the rejection in the junior high cafeteria that gave Grimhilde the great idea to use an apple as a murder weapon in the first place. (Actually, the whole apple thing was probably another rip-off from sacred text, because, as we have already established, everybody likes to steal plots from the Bible. But I digress. )
So, Willow Ufgood, the protagonist in the story, continually struggles with issues of self-confidence. He lacks faith in his abilities as a sorcerer. He is like Dumbo the Elephant who doesn’t have the faith in his ability to fly, or Dorothy Gale who, according to the Good Witch Glenda, had the power to return home all along. The townspeople tend to follow the lead of Burglekutt, the hefty town prefect who thinks Willow is a completely incompetent fool. As Burglekutt leaves the Ufgood farm, threatening to foreclose upon Willow’s property, the camera flashes to the large hog that Willow uses to plow his field. Associating Burglekutt with a “filthy pig” seems quite appropriate. He is rude and unkind and constantly pokes fun at Willow, decreasing Willow’s confidence even further. Fortunately for Willow, The High Aldwin recognizes the inner doubt and gives Willow the Nelwyn version of Dumbo’s magic feather: magic acorns, which, when thrown at an enemy…say, a nasty troll or an evil queen, turn the enemy (or at least parts of the enemy) to stone. Wait a minute. Was this in the Bible, too? No, no… it was salt. Lot’s wife was turned into a pillar of SALT. Oh, but in C.S. Lewis’s tale of Narnia, the White Witch turns people to stone. And, of course, the classical bad chick of Greek mythology, Medusa, liked to turn people into stone, but received her comeuppance and was turned to stone herself. Here is one moral to the movie Willow: be good or you might be turned to stone. What does that mean, though? Some stone is good, right? So it isn’t necessarily bad to be turned to stone. People who remodel their kitchens these days are clamoring to use natural stone for countertops. Does anyone, in his or her description of a “dream” kitchen, say, “Oh, please give me some Formica?! I would love nothing more than to have some orange plastic Formica countertops (to go with my harvest gold appliances)” No, people want STONE—granite, slate, marble, Medusa…

The element of magic is at the basis of the movie. Willow, like his mentor, the benevolent, grey-haired sorcerer, the High Aldwin, would only use magical powers for good, whereas Queen Bavmorda clearly uses her skills with sorcery for malevolent purposes. This is an interesting concept, especially when compared with different interpretations of the Bible. Some Christians believe that any reference to magic, sorcery, or witchcraft is of the Devil and should be avoided at all cost. They do not consider that some so-called “magic” can be good and can be used to fight against evil. I suppose this is because they look upon magic as something coming from “man” instead of coming from “God.” Or they take the Bible literally. There are a lot of references to magic in the Bible, but really, it is all a matter of semantics. There are some who would “allow” for the “good” kind of magic, providing it is distinguished from the “bad” kind of magic—what they refer to as “black magic.” It is the kind of magic practiced by Draco Malfoy and, of course, Voldemort, in the Harry Potter books/films. It is the kind practiced by queen Bavmorda in Willow. (It is probably even the kind that Louis Prima sings about.) Now, why do we call it “black” magic if it is bad? Using this rationale, we would assume that if it were good magic, it should be called “white” magic, just to indicate that it is the very opposite of black magic. Is this yet another example of how we judge things, people, or abstract concepts based on how light or dark they are? Well, thanks to the miracles (magic?) of the Internet, I just learned that there IS such a thing as “white magic” and it IS generally considered to be the “good” kind of magic. Of course, as with any kind of magic, we are advised to be cautious about how we use it. Willow isn’t always terribly cautious about using his magic. He ends up in a tree, turns Fin Raziel into a crow, and then a goat, instead of her human form (which actually turns out to be fortuitous when confronted with the queen’s soldiers at Tir Asleen). Aha! Two more morals taught to us by Willow: Do not mess with things that you are not sure about; they could be dangerous, and, when things don’t turn out how we expect or plan, be optimistic because it may be a “blessing in disguise” (a blessing disguised as a goat, in this case). We might question why Raziel is transformed into a goat instead of a horse or bear or even a unicorn. Raziel is supposed to be a good character, yet she spends some of her time as an animal commonly associated with the Devil. Once again, summoning the magic of the Internet, I have learned that goats in the Bible were not always associated with Lucifer. They were actually listed among the “clean” animals for the Hebrews’ dining. It seems to just be silly humans who have assigned the negative connotations to the goat. Oh, those silly humans! Goats actually were (at least the Ibex) probably looked upon as beautiful creatures. They were among the only animals suitable for sacrifice. There isn’t always a lot of differentiation between sheep and goats in the Bible; they can both be sacrificed at the altar. My little cousin, William, who is two, can definitely tell the difference between kids and lambs. Here is a recent conversation related by William’s mommy, Allison on (of course) facebook:
‎"Look William, goats!" - "no, sheep" - "um, I think those are goats sweetie" - "sheep!" - petting zoo employee: "those are sheep". Can't believe my 2 y/o corrected me! He's been studying his farm books...
We return, once again, to Willow. Back in the Daikini tavern, (a very raucous place full of large, sweaty men—and women—with unkempt hair), we find Madmartigan hurrying to disguise himself to “hide” from Llug, the large, sweaty man who is married to the woman with whom Madmartigan has recently been committing adultery. The movie makes no moral commentary about the illicit affair between Llug’s wife and Madmartigan. In fact, it seems to glorify it. The moral of this particular segment of film seems to say to women that it is okay to screw around if your husband is big and oafish, as long as you do it with a hot warrior like Madmartigan.
Beauty is another subject that is woven into the story line of Willow. When the queen’s army bursts into the tavern in search of Elora Danan, Madmartigan gives away his feminine ruse because he is so instantly smitten with the dazzling looks of Sorsha, Bavmorda’s daughter. Chaos ensues as Llug, presently aware that his wife’s “cousin” is really a man, lunges for Madmartigan, crashing into soldiers as he struggles, unsuccessfully, to reach the fleeing Madmartigan. Blinded by his lust for the cross-dressing warrior, Llug wreaks havoc on the scene, and blinded by HIS lust for Sorsha, Madmartigan nearly loses his life as well as Elora Danan’s. The moral here could be “Look beyond the outward beauty of something or someone because sometimes beauty can be deadly.”
While in the tavern, another character in the story was learning that being attracted to something beautiful could spell danger. Rool and Franjean, the brownies, had stolen some magical fairy dust, “dust of broken hearts,” that causes the person who is sprinkled with the dust to fall in love with the first face of the opposite gender it sees who would likely not return the love. Rool accidentally gets some dust spilled on him and becomes infatuated with the tavern cat, a very risky love-interest. This results in Rool plunging into a vat of beer to escape the cat’s response to his advances. (So, could we then use that adage, “Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder?”) Fortunately, Rool was an adept swimmer and did not drown; furthermore, he did not seem to mind being stuck in a keg of brew. This illustrates a common coping method and might be another moral (though probably not): When scorned by a woman, getting drunk helps ease the pain.
Willow offers another moral lesson, courtesy of Madmartigan. After escaping Llug and the soldiers in the tavern, Madmartigan steals a cart and horses to put as much distance as possible between himself and the army pursuing him. Willow has stowed away in the back of the cart with the baby and the brownies. Madmartigan drives the cart at breakneck speeds along rutted roads, through the woods, with the enemies in hot pursuit. Arrows are flying, wheels on the cart are shattering, and yet Madmartigan continues forward at full bore. Willow, who has vowed to protect Elora Danan at all cost, screams for Madmartigan to slow down or stop. Madmartigan completely ignores Willow and somehow manages to elude his pursuers. Once they are stopped, Willow angrily chastises Madmartigan, informing him, “You never, ever drive that fast with an infant!” (To which Madmartigan, exasperated, responds, “I just saved that infant’s life!”) The moral here is that sometimes it is okay to break some rules if it results in a positive outcome.
Okay, now let’s go back to the whole good versus evil narrative. Willow uses an assortment of symbols, which, through the ages, have represented bad or evil things. I’ve already mentioned the goat symbol and the use of “black” for a “bad” kind of magic. Bavmorda seems to be particularly fond of the number 13, which, according to superstition, is a bad, unlucky number. While she is trying to cast a spell on Elora Danan, Bavmorda commands that the baby be “…. exile [d] to the 13th night.” It sounded poetic, but I had no idea what that meant. Apparently, the 13th night has something to do with Christmas Eve in Iceland. Maybe not, but that is what I found. It is one more than “Twelfth Night,” which, besides being a play by Shakespeare, is a celebration from Christmas to the Epiphany. So really, what Bavmorda is doing with her incantation, is to send the baby to Christmas for an extra day of celebrating. That can’t be an altogether bad thing, can it? Hmmm. Maybe Elora Danan was already practicing her own magic, sending subliminal messages to the queen to get “exiled” to Christmas Eve. I doubt it. Bavmorda then yells to no one in particular to “light the 13th candle.” This obviously must have some evil significance. In some cultures, the number 13 is not unlucky, but in most Western beliefs, it is a number to be avoided. I would not go so far as to say that the number 13 is an immoral number. How can a number, being only a symbolic representation, be immoral? It really can’t. Nor can it be evil or good. Thirteen just “is.” Nevertheless, Bavmorda likes it a lot. I wonder if she likes daisies and spider webs, too? (Those were some of the favorite things of Sarah Winchester. She had woodworkers design corner medallions of daisies with 13 petals each. Drains in her sinks had the 13-leaf daisy motif, too. Sarah was a bit of an eccentric, to say the least.)
After Bavmorda fights a battle with Raziel (and temporarily defeats Raziel), she informs Willow (who has, in the meantime, during the distraction of the fighting, removed Elora Danan from the altar) that she is about to send the child into the “Netherworld.” That is definitely a reference to Hell, so there is little to discuss here. Of course, Willow disobeys, which only infuriates the queen more. When he blatantly defies Bavmorda, she comes after him with her wand and, in so doing, knocks over one of her potions and ends up sending her own spirit into the Netherworld (exactly where evil hags like she belong, of course). The music changes from somber and foreboding to light and happy as we next see Willow receiving a book of magic from Fin Raziel. Returning home from his adventures, Willow has gained confidence in his abilities and is given a hero’s welcome. “Have faith in yourself” is the overarching theme/moral of the story. As a demonstration of his newfound skills, Willow turns an apple into a bird, which delights the crowd, especially when it bombards Burglekutt with a hefty blob of poop. The final moral of the story: Be a big jerk and you will eventually get hit by a pile of sh----aving cream.