Buttons for Eyes Radiate Comfort
“Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” This paraphrased quote by G. K. Chesterton is the epigraph to the novella Corlaine by Neil Gaiman, which inspired the well-known 2009 film of the same name. The story follows a young Coraline Jones as she ventures into the Other World, a parallel reality found behind a mysterious and tiny door in her new home. Here, the world and her parents (her Other Parents with buttons for eyes that is) seem to be perfect, but everything is not what it seems. Coraline must rescue herself and those she loves from her evil Other Mother, and rescue them she does. Now, I’m not here to say that Coraline is the first thing that comes to mind when many people think of fairy tales. In fact, I have it on good authority (from research and countless conversations defending the appeal of this magical stop-motion film) that most people associate this movie with horror and childhood trauma. However, I am here to make a case for why many, like myself, find great comfort and warmth from this modern day animated fairytale.
As disturbing as some scenes are, and disturbing they are indeed, there is an inevitable magic and familiarity both to the film and the story itself. I admit that the familiarity may come from countless rewatchings of a Coraline DVD my grandmother gave to me, unaware of how deeply the movie would affect me, but I’m willing to bet that very same DVD on the fact that there is more to this movie’s comfort than just a personal bias. After jumping down multiple rabbit holes on Coraline, fairy tales, and Twitter threads of fans defending their love for the film I found three overarching explanations as to why a film about buttons for eyes and a spider-like Other Mother eating children’s souls like Happy Meals is comforting.
The first, and most technical of the trio, is the overall production design of this film. It was no easy feat for Laika to produce its very first stop-motion feature film way back in 2009, and their tireless efforts show in every frame of Coraline. Gaining well-deserved praise and accolades, Laika approached the film with an attention for style and detail fit for a fairytale of such mythic proportions. For many viewers, it is this attention to detail and the resulting distinct and unforgettable aesthetic that left a strong impression and radiates comfort viewing after viewing. The clever use of color, the hours spent on a second of film (30 seconds could take up to a week in filming to be precise), and the contrast between beautiful frames and a send-shivers-down-your-spine plot; all of these factors contributed to the visual comfort that countless viewers find in Coraline.
The second and third explanations for viewers’ fascination with the film are more tightly bound in nature. What makes Coraline so appealing, and yet so controversial for many, is that it belongs to a sub-genre of fairy tales that has been in steep decline in popularity since Walt Disney Studios began producing the well-known and more digestible versions of old fairy tales. Despite what the Mouse may say, fairytales weren’t always all about happy endings and jolly singing animal sidekicks. Originally, and I mean even before the Grimm Brothers came on the scene, fairytales were about life, it’s inevitable hardships, and the hopeful possibility of overcoming all obstacles. Albeit dark and at times disturbing, these fairy tales were for young and old and taught listeners and readers that dragons existed, but could ultimately be slain. From Alice’s triumphs in Wonderland to Hansel and Gretel surviving against all odds, to Ye Xian (one of the oldest Cinderella stories, published in China during the Tang dynasty around 860) overcoming her abusive step-mother and sisters, fairy tales have always been dark, but hopeful. This uplifting message at the core of all “dark” fairy tales is a cause of comfort. More than that, the beauty of Coraline and other fairy tales like it is that they present a world that, while magical beyond belief, feels real and grounded because the problems and obstacles within it are painfully real and human. More importantly, because the problems feel so real, the triumph feels just as real and possible.
This comfort in seeing characters like Coraline triumph over unfathomable evil like the Beldam (also known as the Other Mother), is then related to the third reason for Coraline evoking comfort. For many fans of the film, which I found on articles, Reddit and Twitter threads, and Quora, this was a movie that helped them get through a difficult time in their lives. As Tate Lafreiner says in his article “Comfort in Coraline,” where he relates his personal ties to the film and how it helped him through moments of anxiety, “It [is] difficult not to immediately be drawn into it.”Be it random days of anxiety or the challenges of facing new stages in life, the beginning of middle and high school being one of the scariests of all, Coraline has been there for people when they needed it most. The immersive story and characters and the hopeful battle of good versus evil has been many viewers’ anchor in moments of turmoil. Seeing the story of a young girl venture into a crazy and creepy journey of self-discovery, battling inner and external evils, can really put things into perspective for anyone facing real-world “evils.”
While the disturbing and horror-esque plot points and visuals in Coraline can be scary, they are nothing compared to Coraline’s bravery and her (spoiler alert) happy ending. I’m sure this wonderful and carefully crafted film will continue to divide viewers, but I hope that even those that find it terrifying or visually scarring will take it with a grain of salt and find the comfort within this modern day fairy tale. And in the end, what really stands out about this beautiful and comforting film is the reassuring message that “you’re scared, but you still do it anyway, that’s brave.”*
*quote from the novella by Neil Gaiman. While not included in the film, it is there in spirit.
