Jack and the Beanstalk
Little Red Riding Hood
The Emperor's New Clothes
Roald Dahl tales
alice's thoughts on tales...
Tales I loved...
Tales I buried...
Tales that influenced...
In early primary school I went to a friend's sleep over. Her mother let us borrow a DVD based on Snow White. It turned out to be 'Snow White: A Tale of Terror'.
As I grew up, a haunting seen from the beginning of the film still sneaks into my dreams of fears.
From what I remember...
A shadow woods of snow capped branches. White, lots of white. A tall horse pulls an old timber cart through the trees. The cart's wheels turn beside an icy drop in ground.
Then I see...
Wolves pounce, scare and scar the horse? A man? Does the cart roll down the bank?
Either way, a pregnant woman ends up lying in the snow. I predict she fell from the cart. She kicks and screams on the white snow.
The wolves rip, bite and stain the white red.
Then, a man again appears with an axe. Was it the original man who was on the cart?
Then... And I'm not sure if my imagination created this... He approaches the, now dead, woman and cuts out the baby.
The birth of Snow White.
For years I have seeked this video/DVD in the hope I could remove exagerations. Only recently did I find the title on 'youtube'.
I'm still yet to see this 'apparent' scene I remember.
To see the 1997 trailer, click below...
When I was young, although timid with new faces, I was quite a tom-boy.
I didn't like pink and when given the opporunity to 'dress up' I preferred comic characters to princesses. I loved characters who either played tricks or were featured in tales that included miniture worlds e.g. Gulliver's Travels.
This lead to my old dollshouse.
A large timber frame with tall rooms that were not proportioned to the small doors. There was also no way in which my pretend characters could walk between upstairs and downstairs.
Cardboard, clay and fabric scraps.
With cerial boxes I created additional floors, staircases, furnture and miniture cerial boxes.
Detail within detail, I felt each item had to be realistic. Hand knitted blankets and wonk-ily sewn pillows must be on the beds. The cerial box had a small opening on which I pushed the small corner of a plastic bag and filled it with tiny bits of paper, to replicate cerial.
I remember looking at how my mother had hung the curtains and going looking for sticks to replicate privacy for my dolls. It was a complete childhood escape. The moment I began to doubt how 'rea' an object was, then I would add and tweak it.
All this time I increasingly took interest in children's programs made with puppets, Thumbelina and my favourit childhood story...
Jilly's (my mother)
The Secret Garden...
Where my brother and I would take staring roles in her descriptions of adventures just before bed.
Children would walk down the road.
Unusual wall appears.
Crow speaks from wall.
Directs us to pick up a pebble off the path and put it in the letterbox.
The gate opens.
The secret garden appears and magical adventures begin.
I wonder how often Jilly put a moral twist in to make a point?