Today January 3 2021 is my mother's 15th death anniversary
“...Bambi’s mother, shot. Nemo’s mother, eaten by a
barracuda. Lilo’s mother, killed in a car crash. Koda’s mother in Brother Bear,
speared. Po’s mother in Kung Fu Panda 2, done in by a power-crazed peacock. Ariel’s
mother in the third Little Mermaid, crushed by a pirate ship. Human baby’s
mother in Ice Age, chased by a saber-toothed tiger over a waterfall.
I used to take the Peter Pan bus between Washington, D.C.,
and New York City. The ride was terrifying but the price was right, and you
could count on watching a movie on the screen mounted behind the driver’s seat.
Mrs. Doubtfire, The Man Without a Face, that kind of thing. After a few trips,
I noticed a curious pattern. All the movies on board seemed somehow to feature
children lost or adrift, kids who had metaphorically fallen out of their prams.
Gee, I thought, Peter Pan Bus Lines sure is keen to reinforce its brand
identity. The mothers in the movies were either gone or useless. And the father
figures? To die for!
A decade after my Peter Pan years, I began watching a lot of
animated children’s movies, both new and old, with my son. The same pattern
held, but with a deadly twist. Either the mothers died onscreen, or they were
mysteriously disposed of before the movie began: Chicken Little, Aladdin, The
Fox and the Hound, Pocahontas, Beauty and the Beast, The Emperor’s New Groove,
The Great Mouse Detective, Ratatouille, Barnyard, Despicable Me, Cloudy With a
Chance of Meatballs, and, this year, Mr. Peabody and Sherman. So many animated
movies. Not a mother in sight...”
Artist: Zohar Lazar, The Atlantic