“What kind of drugs are you on?” paired with a laughing crying emoji was a message I received from a man on Hinge in response to my claim that Shrek 2 (2004) is the best animated movie of all time. Let all records show that, while I do not use illicit substances, my statement was not hyperbolic in the slightest.
Shrek 2 is one of the earliest movies I ever watched and one of five movies — the other four being Looney Tunes: Back in Action (2003), Cheaper by the Dozen 2 (2005), Beauty and the Beast (1991), and School of Rock (2003) — my family had on DVD while I was growing up that, naturally, played on heavy rotation on my TV. I was, and still am, enamoured by this movie. I genuinely believe it to be a masterpiece.
On the surface, Shrek 2 seems like little more than a silly animated film; it’s the sequel to a film about an ogre who saves a princess from her castle who also — as luck would have it — happens to be an ogre as well. There’s a talking donkey, an assassin who is a talking Spanish Tabby cat, and what kind of name is Shrek, anyway?
But I believe it is this self-conscious silliness that makes the film work so well. I admit that I don’t remember much of the first movie in the series, which establishes this film’s lore; it is not a movie that I have rewatched nearly as much as its sequel. However, I’m a firm believer in the power of a franchise sequel, with this one as no exception: it functions within a pre-established story world, thus facilitating a true hour and change of pure, unadulterated romp. The strong lore of the Shrek universe is the basis for the sequel’s narrative soundness.
What Shrek does so well is take the conventions of fairy tale lore that we are already familiar with and repurposing it to imbue a conventional narrative with a new dimension. What would otherwise be a typical Meet the Parents slash get the girl back narrative becomes a deep examination of the ludicrousness of both constructed beauty standards and, in turn, pseudoscientific hierarchies of personhood. Fiona’s (Cameron Diaz) parents aren’t simply opposed to Shrek (Mike Myers) because he is disagreeable (which he, admittedly, is) but because he’s an actual literal ogre, for crying out loud. And not just because he is an ogre, but because his ogre status has brought about their daughter’s own dormant orge-ness. Shrek, in all his green paunchiness, is an infection to the tissue of the constructed perfection that Fiona’s royal family abides by; his presence upends their notions of what it means to be beautiful and, therefore, worthy of love and value.
This disturbance is launched by Shrek and Fiona’s trip to the aptly-named Far Far Away to reconnect with Fiona’s parents, King Harold (John Cleese) and Queen Lillian (Julie Andrews), who are unaware of the fact that Fiona married an ogre and is now an ogre herself. Far Far Away, as a kingdom teeming with fairytale archetypes played to their most hyperbolic, contrasts the muddied existence that Shrek and Fiona call their life. The exaggerated quality of this kingdom and its stark contrast to The Swamp poke fun at the superficial, dichotomous nature of fairy tales proper and the ridiculousness of the constructs upon which they are predicated: if you don’t find your Prince Charming, you’re better off dead (or, at least, in a state of eternal slumber).
The film’s antagonists, in being a mother-son Fairy Godmother (Jennifer Saunders) and Prince Charming (Rupert Everett) duo, only add to the genius of this film. We understand the traditional Fairy Godmother as benevolent, almost divine, with her sole purpose to grant wishes and aid the journey of the docile Princess Protagonist. Here, the Fairy Godmother is deliciously conniving: an exploitative capitalist, who revels in fine-print contracts and wishful debt-collecting, and is summoned by teardrops. Prince Charming, who is traditionally understood as the too-perfect white knight, is a whiny, spoiled misogynist characteristically disgruntled by his failure to reach Fiona before Shrek did. These characters rivalling a pair of ogres, who would traditionally be understood as the antagonists, does away with our neat understandings of good and bad that are dependent upon whom can best approximate constructs of beauty.
If the villains’ characterization is not enough, their in-story alignment is even more interesting. The Fairy Godmother and Prince Charming have a vested interest in breaking up Fiona and Shrek, as the Fairy Godmother had made a deal with Fiona’s own father to have Prince Charming marry Fiona. We find out, later, that King Harold was a frog, and it is his deal with the Fairy Godmother that granted him a human identity at the expense of Fiona’s ability to freely marry. Yet another fairy tale convention has been undone; a kiss did not turn the frog into a human prince, but a deal with the metaphoric devil did. The price of beauty, this film continues to implore, is a price too high.
This moral is further facilitated through Shrek himself, who becomes convinced that Fiona wants to be with Prince Charming as opposed to him because of his attractiveness. As such, he steals a potion from Fairy Godmother’s megacorp that turns him into a handsome human man, which also turns Fiona back into a human (and Donkey [Eddie Murphy] into a white stallion). Shrek is treated considerably better in his human form, of course. Women and men alike gawk at him whereas they used to literally chase him with pitchforks. But, Shrek is not concerned with any of the affordances his newfound appearance grants him. He is concerned with Fiona loving him and, per fairy tales proper, this ought to be the way. Right?
Of course not. After a big showdown, the Fairy Godmother’s plan is shattered. She gets turned into a bubble that is promptly popped, Shrek and Fiona turn back into ogres, and King Harrold turns back into a frog. The metamorphosis of these characters is the direct reverse of that which we are used to, a regression, if we are to consider fairytale canon. But the characters are happier, as proven by the dance sequence that ensues, and Shrek and Fiona, most importantly, remain in love. Shrek and Fiona willfully turn back into ogres, caring more about being together, than about maintaining a conventionally attractive form. The metaphoric bubble of beauty conventions pops with the Fairy Godmother, proposing a happy ending for those who do not fit our conventions of what is beautiful, and thus magnifying their nonsensical, restrictive, and even dangerous nature.
There are a ton of other things that make this film so magical. The musical choices are endlessly satisfying and narratively compatible: Counting Crows’ “Accidentally in Love” paired with the montage of Shrek and Fiona’s honeymoon, Butterfly Boucher and David Bowie’s “Changes” accompanying Shrek, Donkey, and Puss in Boots (Antonio Banderas) venturing through the streets of Far, Far Away in their newly beautified form. And, of course, who can forget Saunders’ (as the Fairy Godmother) rendition of “Holding Out for a Hero,” playing alongside Shrek and co.’s attempts to get to Fiona before the clock strikes midnight. The songs span genres, forgoing the soprano and classical instrumentation of fairy tale songs, and played so straight with the narrative that it’s almost ridiculous, just like the reality that it’s so astutely critiquing.
Shrek 2 works because it is unapologetically self-aware and critical of the genre from which it is derived. The film realizes how ridiculous so many of these conventions in fairy tales are, how archaic, how tired, how anti-feminist, how potentially anti-humanity they are. It’s a fun movie, with fun music, and fun characters, but underneath all that romp, is a reminder that looks aren’t, or at least shouldn’t, be everything.
