It’s just about the time of year when Christmas music becomes ubiquitous, to the joy of some and the chagrin of others. Whether one finds that Christmas tunes in public places contribute to the holiday spirit or irritates them to no end, it’s hard to deny that Christmas music in December is all but inescapable.
Almost exactly six years ago, a new winter song came out – not technically a holiday song, but a song released in late November that exploded in popularity and became so pervasive that it might as well have been a Christmas song. I don’t know exactly how prevalent it became (Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You” certainly sets a high standard for omnipresence of holiday music!), but I’m sure there were lots of parents practically tearing their hair out as their kids played this song for the umpteenth time in a row. Even among childless people of my age (I was 20 at the time), I seem to remember folks rolling their eyes and saying something along the lines of “Ugh, that song?”
The song that I’m talking about, of course, is “Let It Go”, and the movie from which it comes is Frozen.
Many people seem to think Frozen is overrated, and I can understand that. I often hear complaints that Frozen receives hype that is more deserved by films such as Moana or Coco – which is almost certainly true. Those movies have cultural significance that Frozen does not. But while I absolutely, wholeheartedly support showering Moana and Coco (and other Disney movies that increase representation in family-oriented films) with praise, it’s hard for me to relate to the idea that Frozen is overrated. This is because, to me personally, Frozen is a very meaningful film.
There are many reasons why Frozen is special to me, but two stand out. The first is my connection to the character of Elsa. I absolutely love Elsa. Love, love, love her. I’m 26 now, and just recently I got so excited by an Elsa balloon in a grocery store that I had my father take a picture of me with it! I know that most people probably consider me “too old” to have such an affinity for a Disney character, but too bad.
The reason I love Elsa so much is that I both relate to her timidity at the beginning and admire her personal growth throughout the film. I am a person who has many fears, many of which relate to how others see me and evaluate my worth – if I’m “the good girl [I] always have to be,” then maybe people will accept me. Elsa starts out the same way at the beginning of the movie. Because I see those similarities between us, I automatically feel drawn to her. However, whereas many of my fears still bind me, Elsa found freedom, and I look up to her for that. I don’t know how to “let it go,” really, but Elsa represents the possibility of overcoming my fears. She also gets to a point by the conclusion of the film where she isn’t afraid to be herself, and that’s inspiring to me because I would love to be able to be myself without worrying about what everyone thinks about me. (I generally am “myself,” but I don’t yet have the same self-assurance that Elsa finds by the story’s end.) In summary, I feel a strong connection to Elsa, and I gain hope and inspiration from her inner journey.
The second reason I love Frozen is that it’s about a relationship between sisters. I myself have only one biological sibling – a sister, whom I love dearly. Although we are quite different, we generally got along pretty well when we were growing up. We grew much closer, though, around the time that Frozen came out. That’s purely coincidental – the movie’s release happened at a time when our family was undergoing many changes, plus both my sister and I were in the midst of the huge transition that is moving away from home to attend college. But I think the growing importance of my sister to me at the time the film came out is why the story is so meaningful to me.
In Frozen, the sister-sister relationship between Anna and Elsa permeates the plot. Among other things, Anna goes to great lengths to find Elsa when she goes missing, Elsa unintentionally harms Anna, and Anna throws herself in the path of a sword to save Elsa. I relate to each of these actions. Thankfully, my sister has never gone missing, but I would be desperate to find her if she did. Also, like Elsa, I have accidentally caused my sister pain at times. While it’s hard to say what would happen in the moment, my love for my sister is such that I could see myself sacrificing my safety for her. In short, the interactions between Anna and Elsa remind me of my relationship with my own sister, a relationship that was particularly salient to me at the time of the film’s release.
So, that’s why I hold Frozen so close to my heart: I relate very strongly both to Elsa and to the relationship between the two sisters. In some ways, I guess you could say these aspects of the film go to the core of my identity. My fears are longstanding and deep-seated, to the point where I consider fear to be one of my primary characteristics. At the same time, it’s not fun living with so much fear. A central desire of mine – but one that I’m ironically too afraid to act upon – is to overcome my fear. Likewise, my relationship with my sister is one of the most important relationships in my life. Therefore, Frozen portrays a character with whom I strongly identify, within a sibling relationship that highly reminds me of my own. It almost feels like the movie was made for me. I’m not so vain as to believe that’s true, nor am I vain enough to think that everyone else should like Frozen just because I do, but I hope I have effectively communicated why the film is special to me.
Maybe I’m an adult. And maybe people will judge me for loving a children’s movie, particularly as I continue to age, but I can’t bring myself to care. Frozen makes me happy, and while I may worry about what people think of me in many other contexts, this is not going to be one of them. Perhaps I’ve taken a lesson from Elsa, after all.