FEMINIST FILM THEORY
I was looking at my previous post and suddenly remembered that I have a special treat for you all.
As some of you know and unfortunately remember, back when I was a dumb teenager I had this fucked-up obsession with all things related to The Secret Of NIMH. You know, the only good Don Bluth movie.
Anyway, this being the internet, there were others like me. More than one of these people went scouring newspapers, magazines, and academic journals for any and all material related to the book (and movie). Eventually, one of them dug up what, as far as I can tell, is the only feminist film theory paper related to the movie. I had to save it.
On the surface, it seems like pretty much all those "book vs. movie" papers everyone had to write in seventh grade. But underneath lies a vein of insanity. Full essay is behind the cut.
FRISBY-TURNED-BRISBY
The Resolution of Ambiguity in The Secret of NIMH
by Paula T. Connolly
In his 1972 Newbery Award acceptance speech, Robert
O'Brien noted that "[t]he mind learns that it is not easy to
separate good from bad; they become deviously intertwined.
From books it learns that not all doors are simply open or shut,
and that even rats can become heroes."(1) He is speaking here
of the moral complexity of his novel, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats
of NIMH, which deals with such problematic issues as the roles
of science and technology, identity, idealism, family life, forms
of community and means of survival. There are gradations of
moral understanding and culpability in his world view, but
there is not often a clear demarcation between right and wrong.
Similarly, his characters are often complex combinations of
idealism and cynicism, strength and weakness, sympathy and
practicality. Those characters must be complex to deal with
the range of issues and the world O'Brien details--a world of
danger, where choices are often based more on survival and
need than on easy preference and personal desire.
Although O'Brien who died in 1973, did not live to see the
1982 film adaptation of his novel, it is clear that Don Bluth's
The Secret of NIMH does not answer O'Brien's call for a
sophisticated presentation of moral issues and characters in
children's literature. The Secret of NIMH is a wonderfully
animated adventure story and does include a version of the
basic storyline of the rats' plan to move to Thorn Valley, Mrs.
Frisby's quest to save her young so from a near-certain death,
and the rats' earlier days at and escape from NIMH. But this
adaptation varies from the novel not merely by developing
minor characters for comic relief, but by changing the central
ambiguity and issues of the novel itself.
In essence, the film de-problematizes the novel, especially in
the way in which it recreates Mrs. Frisby--who changes more
than in simple name to Mrs. Brisby--and in the way the
community is reworked here so that it becomes less a depiction
of interrelationships and mutual dependencies, and more a
dichotomized and hierarchical view of battles for personal ego
and fantastic powers. The central tale within the film--of Mrs.
Brisby's attempts to save her family--becomes the story of a
frightened mouse who is transformed into a heroine. Yet this
depiction of Frisby-turned-Brisby is plagued with ironic
contradictions, and is ultimately undermined even during the
climax of the film when Brisby is ostensibly meant to
demonstrate her courage and strength. By refocusing the story
to the development of Brisby's independence, the film sets up a
hierarchy and a set of oppositions which dissolve the
ambiguities of the novel. Further, as the film shifts the focus
from the development of the communities to the development
of the individual, O'Brien's concern with the necessities of
interdependence becomes simplified to the overt development
of individual egos.
Silencing Mrs. Frisby
The Difference in Mrs. Brisby/Frisby's identity in the movie and
novel is both radical and immediately apparent. The film
begins with Nicodemus writing of Jonathan's death and
wondering how he will help his widow. Then, as he holds a
magic amulet, Nicodemus says good-bye to his friend and tells
him: "Jonathan, wherever you are, your thoughts must comfort
her tonight. She will be waiting and you will not return." This
initial objectification of Brisby--who is introduced as a third-
person figure of her own story--is compounded once the
character moves from object to subject, that is, once she is not
merely the focus of Nicodemus's thoughts but becomes a
character directly viewed by the audience.
Following a placement shot of the Fitzgibbon farm, we see
Brisby at the home of Mr. Ages, asking him for medicine to
save her sick son. She is quiet, self-effacing and uncertain, yet
Mr. Ages is contentious and insensitive. Although he tells her
"Sorry about your husband's death," he initially ignores the
seriousness of her request and as she follows him into his
laboratory, he presents himself as a belligerent and
disinterested superior. He chides her as one would a child
when he tells her to "Follow me, but don't touch anything."
Once he has given her the medicine and told her she must keep
her son indoors, she reminds Mr. Ages that Moving Day is
near and he tells her brusquely, "You asked my advice and I
gave it." Then he quickly pushes Brisby out the door,
slamming it behind her, leaving her stuttering her thanks to a
dark and empty alcove.
Although these early scenes are meant to establish the extent of
danger and conflict Brisby must face, they serve primarily to
depict her as a weak and ineffectual female. Even before the
credits have been shown, Mrs. Brisby is defined not only as a
widow, but more clearly as someone vulnerable, needing the
help of Nicodemus and of the dead Jonathan. The fact that
Mr. Ages ignores, chastises, and commands Mrs. Brisby
emphasizes this depiction of her as childlike, ineffective, and
dependent. She becomes, in many ways, a shadow character,
largely defined and motivated to action by those around her.
By contrast, the first sentence of the novel--"Mrs. Frisby, the
head of a family of field mice, lived in an underground house in
the vegetable garden of a farmer named Mr. Fitzgibbon"(2)--
establishes Frisby as an immediate, primary and competent
character. We see her first, not as needing the aid of male
characters, but as ably providing for her family. Here, it is she
who serves as the hierarchical head of that family, and initial
leader in the story. For "[a]lthough she was a widow...Mrs.
Frisby was able, through luck and hard work, to keep her
family...happy and well fed."(3) Frisby's world is one of
constant threat, yet she survives through her caution, cunning
and practicality. While the character's emotion and physical
vulnerability is immediately stressed in the film, in the novel we
find her skillfully navigating through cat territory in search of
food for her family. She finds food abandoned by an animal
that had probably been killed, but "since Mrs. Frisby did not
even know what kind of animal it had been, much less his
name, she could not shed many tears over him--and food was
food."(4_ She is a practical, not overly sentimental, and
certainly not dependent creature.
This difference in characterization is largely due to the film's
revision of the Frisby storyline to an overt quest for
independence and strength. In order to dramatize this
development, however, Brisby's initial vulnerability must be
exacerbated in the film. She is subservient to nearly every
character she meets. One recurrent image that demonstrates
this vulnerability is Brisby's voice, which becomes a
quintessential example of the way female speech is riddled with
apologies, tag phrases and other forms of politeness that serve
to reduce the power of that language, and thus to marginalize
the speaker. Critic Robin Lakoff has noted the effects of what
she calls "women's language":
it submerges a woman's personal identity, by denying her the
means of expressing herself strongly, on the one hand, and
encouraging expressions that suggest triviality in subject matter
and uncertainty about it; and, when a woman is being
discussed, by treating her as an object...but never a serious
person with individual views.(5)
Indeed, this seems clearly the case for Mrs. Brisby. When
other characters, such as Mr. Ages and Auntie Shrew,
vigorously chastise her, Brisby demonstrates her timidity by her
quiet, apologetic and often stuttering responses. Moreover,
these apologies--which she makes to Mr. Ages, the Owl and
Justin--are not merely markers of politeness, but clearly
minimize her son's illness, and ultimately herself. What she
apologizes for in each case is, after all, her presence and her
request for her son's life. When, for example, she comes to the
rats for aid and finds that a meeting is in progress, she tells
Justin, "I'm sorry to come here at a bad time...I suppose."(6)
Even when Brisby's needs are met, her voice is still often
silenced. When she meets Nicodemus to tell him of the Owl's
advice, she begins to say, "Your majesty, my family is--," but is
interrupted by the leader of the rats who assures her, "I know
of your needs." Despite his forthcoming aid and his apparent
sympathy, by anticipating her needs, he also prevents her from
telling her own story or even asking formally for aid. By
contrast, in the novel when Frisby journeys to the Rosebush,
Nicodemus must ask her "what is it we can do to help you,"(7)
and Frisby then recounts her own story to him.
This silence and hesitancy also marks Brisby's role as mother.
When Auntie Shrew, mocked by the Brisby children, tells their
mother, "I have just one thing to say: that child is a brat!"
Mrs. Brisby's only response is an obsequious "Yes, I will speak
to him." Brisby's interaction with the Shrew not only
demonstrates her silence, but most clearly her lack of power as
a mother. the role of the Shrew is more developed in the film
than in the novel; in the film she functions as mother to Brisby
and even reminds Brisby of her own responsibilities as a
mother. Although Brisby, fearing her home will be destroyed
does attempt to disable the plow herself, she is immediately
paralyzed by her fear of heights, and the Shrew must complete
the sabotage and rescue Brisby, who huddles atop the plow
trembling and ineffective. Their conversation immediately
following that rescue highlights Brisby's failure as a mother-
figure and the ways other characters must direct her actions.
Brisby (crying): I wish Jonathan were here.
Shrew (chiding): Well, he's not. Stop it!
Brisby: What am I going to do?
Shrew: We'll think of something. Come on. Let's get out of
here. The Great Owl would know what to do about this. You
must go see him.
Brisby: I couldn't do that. Owls eat mice.
Shrew: Well, my child, show a little courage, we're fighting for
Timothy's life.
Nicodemus (who observes this scene with the aid of magical
powers): Jonathan, your wife, I fear, is in desperate trouble.
A visit to the Great Owl might indeed be profitable. Go to the
Owl, then, Mrs. Brisby. Go there!
Later, as Jeremy the Crow prepares to fly Brisby to the Owl's
home, Brisby repeats that "Owls eat mice" and exclaims, "I
don't know how I let you talk me into this!" The incident in
which Brisby visits the Great Owl forms the basis for both the
film's solution and the rats' early recognition of Brisby's
courage, yet it is a scene filled with depictions of her own
inadequacies. It is, after all, Auntie Shrew who comes up with
the idea to visit the Owl and must remind Brisby of her own
responsibilities as a mother, Nicodemus who seems to
magically induce her to go to the Owl, and Jeremy who
provides her with transportation, albeit against her better
judgment. These characters all direct her to the Owl, and she
journeys there more at their behest than her own will. In
O'Brien's novel, however, it is clear that Frisby's role as mother
provides an underpinning for her strength. When she is
frightened, she remembers that her children are depending on
her, and thus ably faces the obstacles before her. In essence,
there is clear interdependence between her children and herself:
her children encourage her psychological fortitude and she
provides their means of survival.
In the novel, her role as wife, too, gives her a measure of
authority for it brings with it a sense of her personal and even
sexual experience. In the novel when Frisby first journeys to
the Rosebush, she meets Isabella, a young rat who has a crush
on Justin. When Justin arrives and absentmindedly calls
Isabella "Izzy," Mrs. Frisby thinks, "It did not matter...if Justin
called her Izzy, just so he called her something".(8) In Bluth's
version of the story, however, when Brisby meets Justin she
herself becomes that lovesick child. Flattered by Justin's
attentions and gallantry, she murmurs "how beautiful" as she
stares at him, then quickly corrects herself "...the lights [I
mean]." A child to Auntie Shrew and a lovesick, inexperienced
girl to Justin, the Brisby character is also diminished in her
dealings with Nicodemus, whom in awed whispers she
repeatedly calls "Your majesty."
Independence vs. interdependence
O'Brien's depiction of Frisby is built upon his vision that in a
dangerous world, survival requires networks based upon
interdependencies. In the novel, Frisby's act of saving Jeremy
from the cat brings about all other events. It is after she saves
him, at her own risk, that he suggests she visit the Owl and
agrees to fly her there. The Owl is initially uninterested in
listening to Frisby, but agrees after he learns what she has done
for Jeremy. He tells her, "please understand that I have no
interest at all...in helping mice to solve their problems. If you
have indeed saved a bird from the cat, I will spare you a few
minutes."(9) Once he discovers that she is Jonathan's widow,
he suggests that she go to the rats. The aid they give her is
based on an accepted system of interdependencies--Jonathan
had helped them, so in his absence, they will help his family--
but this is a system of which Frisby herself is already a part.
Because she had aided Jeremy, he helps her meet the Owl.
Because of her courage and her willingness to aid others, the
Owl respects and helps her. This is a much different depiction
from that in the film where Brisby is aided only because of her
vulnerability and because she is Jonathan's widow.
O'Brien's vision of interdependencies includes a presentation of
an often complex world, and this, too, is incorporated into his
characterization of Frisby. In the film, when Moving Day
arrives, Auntie Shrew screams hysterically, "Run for your
lives...the plow is here!" signaling the invasion of man as a
certain sign of the slaughter of animals. In this scene, the
rabbits beat the ground in frenzy to warn other animals of their
impending doom, and all race, eyes wide in terror, to escape
the fields. In the novel, however, O'Brien is careful to show
the varied facets of Moving Day; it is admittedly a day in which
animals will be killed by the plow if they are caught unaware in
the fields, but it is also due to the plowing that animals have
food to eat for the rest of the year. Frisby is full aware of the
dual dangers and benefits of Moving Day, and despite the
Shrew's complaints, she is able to evaluate and dismiss the
Shrew's comments thus showing that she is often a more
rational creature than the Shrew and certainly more so than the
Brisby of the film, and also that the world she inhabits is one of
far more complexity than that found in The Secret of NIMH.
Because, in the film, the central focus is the development of
Brisby's character, it is against a backdrop of her early and
exaggerated inferiority and insecurity that she must establish
her independence. This developed sense of independence is,
however, ultimately problematic both in the way it redefines
the issues of the novel and in its own inherent contradictions.
Brisby's use of "Your majesty" when addressing Nicodemus,
for example, not only serves to emphasize her powerlessness
by setting up a hierarchy in which she is subservient, but also
restructures the social issues of O'Brien's story. In the novel,
Nicodemus makes it clear that the rats use no titles. From the
way they attend meetings, vote on important decisions, and
work together to compete their move to Thorn Valley--a move
based on their rejection of capitalist competition as self-
destructive and on their idealism of self-sufficiency and hard
work--it is clear that their community is based on a democratic,
often socialist, model. The use of distinguishing ranks in the
film--including royal titles--supplants the complexities of the
communal societies in the novel with more simplistic,
hierarchical ones. This too, is a reflection of the way Bluth
exchanges O'Brien's vision of communities as networks of
interdependent links, for a presentation of communities largely
defined as the projections of the ego and individuality of
leaders.
The film's portrayal of simple moral oppositions is a fairly harsh
revision of O'Brien's morally complex tale. Just as ambivalent
connotations of Moving Day are simplified to clear-cut
depictions of danger, so too, for example, are the scientists
redefined only as cruel and evil. In the film when Nicodemus
describes his internment at NIMH, he recalls the many animals
who "were put through the most unspeakable tortures to
satisfy some scientific curiosity. Often at night I would hear
them crying out in anguish." The horror of experimentation is
exacerbated by a scene of large-eyed and whimpering puppies,
and of a monkey holding its children, unable, of course, to
protect them. The scientists are objectified and only their
hands are shown as they inject the rats with long needles that
induce painful reactions. Despite O'Brien's obvious criticisms
of the over-ambitious goals of science and the dangers of
experimentation, he is careful not to provide facile
characterizations of scientists. The rats, Nicodemus recounts,
were held "gently but firmly" and the scientists were generally
"kind." When a lab assistant had sympathized with one of the
rats, saying, "Poor little thing, he's frightened,"(10) she is
reprimanded by the scientist not because of her sensitivity but
because she mistook the rat's gender.
This attempt to resolve the ambiguity of O'Brien's world is
inherently connected to the revision of the Frisby character.
The battle of good and evil is played out against the backdrop
of Brisby's coming independence and demonstrated strength--
that is, as she moves from weak to a strong character. Brisby
does show independence when she finally escapes from the
Fitzgibbon's cage by herself, journeys to the rats to warn them
of the coming threat of the NIMH scientists, and then save her
children's lives as their home begins to sink beneath the mud.
Indeed, this image of a newly empowered Brisby becoming a
heroic mother and saving her children when the rats about her
are powerless to help, provides the climatic scene of the film.
Brisby symbolically finds her voice in the scene when she
climbs atop a block and addresses the rats, warning them of the
NIMH scientists. Although speaking out can be seen as a
means of assertion, the power Brisby achieves in this scene is
questionable. The warning she brings to the rats does
ultimately save them, but her more passive and helpless
femininity is reestablished when Jenner viciously casts her aside
and Justin must defend her in the ensuing sword fight. This
scene clearly demonstrates Bluth's concern with individual and
personal power, and the way his vision erases O'Brien's views
of community, ambiguity and moral complexity.
While the imagery connected with Brisby's development is
contradictory, the film's concern with personal power is
nonetheless clear. In the film, Jenner battles first Nicodemus
then Justin to become the leader of the rats and fulfill his "lust
for power." Justin, a gallant, swashbuckling hero, confronts
Jenner in a sword fight that dramatizes the central conflict as a
battle of individual wills. Although O'Brien's story focuses on
different ways of envisioning community, it is not community
but leaders that are preeminent in the film. This is clear both in
the development of conflicts never present in the book and in
the ways characters are rewritten. In the film, even the
depiction of the contentious Mr. Ages stresses personal hubris
and misses O'Brien's point of survival based on mutual aid and
interdependence.
The problem of magic
The vision of success as individual accomplishment is seen in
the way Brisby ostensibly saves her family through her own
courage. Yet, for Mrs. Brisby, even in this climatic scene,
personal power is problematic and fleeting. As the Brisby's
home sinks, the magic amulet pops out of the mud and moves
of its own accord to Brisby, who shies away from it. Then
Nicodemus's voice is heard repeating the rhyme, "Courage of
the heart is very rare. The stone has a power when it's there."
Brisby grasps the stone, she is infused by its magic, and the
house rises, steered by a magical, umbilical-like cord and set
down in a safe place. Exhausted, Brisby faints.
Although critics of fantasy literature often point out that magic
serves as an external reflection of inner will, there is an inherent
irony in the use of a physical talisman to empower intangible
will. That irony is evident here, for while in O'Brien's novel
accomplishments are made through the ingenuity and strengths
of the characters, the introduction of magic into the film
suggests the need for something more than the individual or
community to evince power. Further, if this is the scene which
defines Brisby's ultimate power--as she stands with arms raised
and body glowing wile the magic of the amulet courses
through her--that power is quickly deflated. Brisby, whom
Nicodemus defines as no longer faint-hearted, ironically faints
once the stone accomplishes its task. That final image of her
passivity--that is, Brisby in an unconscious faint--in some ways
even characterizes her role in this scene. The amulet had come
to her of its own accord, the dead Nicodemus had orchestrated
the event, and it had been the amulet that empowered Brisby.
Indeed, Brisby's ostensible power is quickly neutralized and she
recovers her prescribed femininity through the ensuing
exaggerated faint when, evoking a sentimentalized heroine, she
raises her paw to her head, swoons, then delicately and
gracefully falls to the ground, knees first, cape wrapped about
her.
In O'Brien's novel, there is no amulet, no magic that suddenly
empowers Frisby. Neither does she rescue herself from the
Fitzgibbon's cage. While Frisby is nervous about her task of
drugging the cat Dragon, she comforts and encourages herself-
-unlike Brisby, who needs the continued reassurances of Justin;
yet once she is caught and trapped in the cage she finds the
"door was stiff and it was heavy, and she could not get a good
enough grip on it...to exert much pressure."(11) Finally, Justin
returns and frees her with his "Burglar's tools," making sure her
escape will not invite the suspicions of the Fitzgibbon family.
Although this might appear to demonstrate Frisby's weakness,
when her character is viewed within the context of O'Brien's
world view, her rescue by the rat is inevitable. The system of
interdependencies, which runs throughout the novel and serves
as the cohesion for communities, means that it is not a
lessening of Frisby's power when Justin must release her from
the Fitzgibbon's cage. Frisby has had the courage and
intelligence to survive the animal world thus far, but survival
must often depend upon aid from others. Hence, just as
Jonathan had once escaped NIMH because the rats had helped
him, then repaid the rats by releasing the final barriers that kept
them imprisoned, so too is Mrs. Frisby now released from the
cage by Justin and soon thereafter returns the favor by telling
the rats of the impending visit of the NIMH scientists. In many
ways, this escape parallels the earlier one of her husband and
the rats at NIMH. There, the imprisoned Jonathan had told the
rats, "We [mice] would like to go, too, but we cannot open our
cages." The mice had been trapped because, being smaller than
the rats, they "can't reach far enough to unlatch [the
doors]."(12) After the rats free them, Jonathan and Mr. Ages
then save the rats' lives by unlocking the final exit from the
building.
While The Secret of NIMH, focuses on the development of
Mrs. Brisby as she seeks to save her family, this change in
focus entails the resolution of much of the novel's
complexity.(13) Such a change comes at the cost of
transforming the central focus of the story from community to
independence, and even those depictions of independence
become problematic. Such is the case, for example, when Mrs.
Brisby must be counseled, badgered, supported, and
"magicked" to personal power. By citing individual will as the
preeminent concern and by making clear-cut depictions of
good and evil--then locating that good or evil in characters as
one would in a morality play--the film simplifies the world
O'Brien creates in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH.
When Bluth left the Disney studios in 1979 one of his concerns
was reportedly that "Disney was...producing namby-pamby
stories, protecting youthful audiences from the grim realities of
traditional fairy tales."(14) Although The Secret of NIMH
provides the punishment of the villain, the reunion of the
family, and the final triumph of the initially weak character--
typical elements of fairy tales--it also borrows from fairy tales
unambiguous characters and conflicts. It denies O'Brien's call
for a complex vision in children's literature. O'Brien's world is
not one of simple dependence or independence, but of
interdependence. Characters must help each other as they
move through a place where Moving Day means both life and
death, and Thorn Valley becomes the hope for a new future
and a dream already cursed by their inculcation of human
knowledge. It is a world of problems and ambiguity not easily
resolved. And to live in such a world, to provide aid to other
in a common quest for survival, characters such as Mrs. Frisby
must already be cautious, capable, and intelligent.
Notes
1. O'Brien, "Newbery Award Acceptance," 348.
2. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 3.
3. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 4
4. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 7
5. Lakoff, 7. See Lakoff for a discussion of "Women's
language." She asserts that "Women speak in italics, and the
more ladylike and feminine you are, the more in italics you are
supposed to speak" (56). This link between language and
femininity seems evident in the Brisby character throughout the
film.
6. In the film, when the blustering Auntie Shrew comes to visit
the Brisby children, it is the youngest Brisby mouse, Cynthia,
who tugs on the Shrew's cloak, trying to be heard as she tells
her "Timmy's sick." Auntie Shrew, who only hears this news
when the older Teresa is speaking to her, silences and chastises
Cynthia by telling her, "Don't fidget. You're so like your
mother." The Shrew's comparison does evoke images of Mrs.
Brisby who repeatedly tells others "Timothy's sick," but along
the way is also often silenced and ignored. In this instance,
O'Brien's depiction of Cynthia as "a little light-headed" (8) and
"small [and] scatterbrained" (21) seems transferred from the
novel (as the character Cynthia) to the film (as Brisby).
7. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 90
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid.
13. Although a separate issue for discussion, it is interesting to
note that the two sequels to Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH
written by Jane Leslie Conly also largely resolve any issues of
ambiguity in O'Brien's novel. While O'Brien emphasizes the
uncertainties through the number of unanswered questions in
his book--whether Jenner or Justin die, for example--those
questions are answered in Conly's sequel, Racso and the Rats
of NIMH. This pattern of resolution is largely true of her
second book, R-T, Margaret, and the Rats of NIMH.
Although that book ends with the rats disappearing from their
living place at Thorn Valley, it is clear that the rats have moved
to a different location, and that this serves not so much as real
ambiguity as a possible plot for a following book.
14. "The Rebel Nibbling at Disney's World," 68.
Works Cited
Conly, Jane Leslie. Racso and the Rats of NIMH. New York:
Harper and Row, 1986
Conly, Jane Leslie. R-T, Margaret and the Rats of NIMH.
New York, Harper and Row, 1990
Lakoff, Robin. Language and Woman's Place. New York:
Harper and Row, 1975
O'Brien, Robert C. Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH (1971).
New York: Aladdin-MacMillan, 1975.
O'Brien, Robert C. "Newbery Award Acceptance." The Horn
Book 48 (August 1972): 343-348.
"The Rebel Nibbling at Disney's World." Fortune 106 (4
October 1982), 68/
The Secret of NIMH. Directed by Don Bluth. MGM/UA,
1982.
About the Author
Paula T. Connolly received her doctorate at the University of
Massachusetts at Amherst. She is an Assistant Professor at the
University of North Carolina at Charlotte, where she teaches
courses in children's literature and film. She has also published
several articles on children's fantasy literature.
The paper was, as far as I can remember, published in a book called "the antic art". It hasn't been seen on the internet in nearly a decade.
As some of you know and unfortunately remember, back when I was a dumb teenager I had this fucked-up obsession with all things related to The Secret Of NIMH. You know, the only good Don Bluth movie.
Anyway, this being the internet, there were others like me. More than one of these people went scouring newspapers, magazines, and academic journals for any and all material related to the book (and movie). Eventually, one of them dug up what, as far as I can tell, is the only feminist film theory paper related to the movie. I had to save it.
On the surface, it seems like pretty much all those "book vs. movie" papers everyone had to write in seventh grade. But underneath lies a vein of insanity. Full essay is behind the cut.
FRISBY-TURNED-BRISBY
The Resolution of Ambiguity in The Secret of NIMH
by Paula T. Connolly
In his 1972 Newbery Award acceptance speech, Robert
O'Brien noted that "[t]he mind learns that it is not easy to
separate good from bad; they become deviously intertwined.
From books it learns that not all doors are simply open or shut,
and that even rats can become heroes."(1) He is speaking here
of the moral complexity of his novel, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats
of NIMH, which deals with such problematic issues as the roles
of science and technology, identity, idealism, family life, forms
of community and means of survival. There are gradations of
moral understanding and culpability in his world view, but
there is not often a clear demarcation between right and wrong.
Similarly, his characters are often complex combinations of
idealism and cynicism, strength and weakness, sympathy and
practicality. Those characters must be complex to deal with
the range of issues and the world O'Brien details--a world of
danger, where choices are often based more on survival and
need than on easy preference and personal desire.
Although O'Brien who died in 1973, did not live to see the
1982 film adaptation of his novel, it is clear that Don Bluth's
The Secret of NIMH does not answer O'Brien's call for a
sophisticated presentation of moral issues and characters in
children's literature. The Secret of NIMH is a wonderfully
animated adventure story and does include a version of the
basic storyline of the rats' plan to move to Thorn Valley, Mrs.
Frisby's quest to save her young so from a near-certain death,
and the rats' earlier days at and escape from NIMH. But this
adaptation varies from the novel not merely by developing
minor characters for comic relief, but by changing the central
ambiguity and issues of the novel itself.
In essence, the film de-problematizes the novel, especially in
the way in which it recreates Mrs. Frisby--who changes more
than in simple name to Mrs. Brisby--and in the way the
community is reworked here so that it becomes less a depiction
of interrelationships and mutual dependencies, and more a
dichotomized and hierarchical view of battles for personal ego
and fantastic powers. The central tale within the film--of Mrs.
Brisby's attempts to save her family--becomes the story of a
frightened mouse who is transformed into a heroine. Yet this
depiction of Frisby-turned-Brisby is plagued with ironic
contradictions, and is ultimately undermined even during the
climax of the film when Brisby is ostensibly meant to
demonstrate her courage and strength. By refocusing the story
to the development of Brisby's independence, the film sets up a
hierarchy and a set of oppositions which dissolve the
ambiguities of the novel. Further, as the film shifts the focus
from the development of the communities to the development
of the individual, O'Brien's concern with the necessities of
interdependence becomes simplified to the overt development
of individual egos.
Silencing Mrs. Frisby
The Difference in Mrs. Brisby/Frisby's identity in the movie and
novel is both radical and immediately apparent. The film
begins with Nicodemus writing of Jonathan's death and
wondering how he will help his widow. Then, as he holds a
magic amulet, Nicodemus says good-bye to his friend and tells
him: "Jonathan, wherever you are, your thoughts must comfort
her tonight. She will be waiting and you will not return." This
initial objectification of Brisby--who is introduced as a third-
person figure of her own story--is compounded once the
character moves from object to subject, that is, once she is not
merely the focus of Nicodemus's thoughts but becomes a
character directly viewed by the audience.
Following a placement shot of the Fitzgibbon farm, we see
Brisby at the home of Mr. Ages, asking him for medicine to
save her sick son. She is quiet, self-effacing and uncertain, yet
Mr. Ages is contentious and insensitive. Although he tells her
"Sorry about your husband's death," he initially ignores the
seriousness of her request and as she follows him into his
laboratory, he presents himself as a belligerent and
disinterested superior. He chides her as one would a child
when he tells her to "Follow me, but don't touch anything."
Once he has given her the medicine and told her she must keep
her son indoors, she reminds Mr. Ages that Moving Day is
near and he tells her brusquely, "You asked my advice and I
gave it." Then he quickly pushes Brisby out the door,
slamming it behind her, leaving her stuttering her thanks to a
dark and empty alcove.
Although these early scenes are meant to establish the extent of
danger and conflict Brisby must face, they serve primarily to
depict her as a weak and ineffectual female. Even before the
credits have been shown, Mrs. Brisby is defined not only as a
widow, but more clearly as someone vulnerable, needing the
help of Nicodemus and of the dead Jonathan. The fact that
Mr. Ages ignores, chastises, and commands Mrs. Brisby
emphasizes this depiction of her as childlike, ineffective, and
dependent. She becomes, in many ways, a shadow character,
largely defined and motivated to action by those around her.
By contrast, the first sentence of the novel--"Mrs. Frisby, the
head of a family of field mice, lived in an underground house in
the vegetable garden of a farmer named Mr. Fitzgibbon"(2)--
establishes Frisby as an immediate, primary and competent
character. We see her first, not as needing the aid of male
characters, but as ably providing for her family. Here, it is she
who serves as the hierarchical head of that family, and initial
leader in the story. For "[a]lthough she was a widow...Mrs.
Frisby was able, through luck and hard work, to keep her
family...happy and well fed."(3) Frisby's world is one of
constant threat, yet she survives through her caution, cunning
and practicality. While the character's emotion and physical
vulnerability is immediately stressed in the film, in the novel we
find her skillfully navigating through cat territory in search of
food for her family. She finds food abandoned by an animal
that had probably been killed, but "since Mrs. Frisby did not
even know what kind of animal it had been, much less his
name, she could not shed many tears over him--and food was
food."(4_ She is a practical, not overly sentimental, and
certainly not dependent creature.
This difference in characterization is largely due to the film's
revision of the Frisby storyline to an overt quest for
independence and strength. In order to dramatize this
development, however, Brisby's initial vulnerability must be
exacerbated in the film. She is subservient to nearly every
character she meets. One recurrent image that demonstrates
this vulnerability is Brisby's voice, which becomes a
quintessential example of the way female speech is riddled with
apologies, tag phrases and other forms of politeness that serve
to reduce the power of that language, and thus to marginalize
the speaker. Critic Robin Lakoff has noted the effects of what
she calls "women's language":
it submerges a woman's personal identity, by denying her the
means of expressing herself strongly, on the one hand, and
encouraging expressions that suggest triviality in subject matter
and uncertainty about it; and, when a woman is being
discussed, by treating her as an object...but never a serious
person with individual views.(5)
Indeed, this seems clearly the case for Mrs. Brisby. When
other characters, such as Mr. Ages and Auntie Shrew,
vigorously chastise her, Brisby demonstrates her timidity by her
quiet, apologetic and often stuttering responses. Moreover,
these apologies--which she makes to Mr. Ages, the Owl and
Justin--are not merely markers of politeness, but clearly
minimize her son's illness, and ultimately herself. What she
apologizes for in each case is, after all, her presence and her
request for her son's life. When, for example, she comes to the
rats for aid and finds that a meeting is in progress, she tells
Justin, "I'm sorry to come here at a bad time...I suppose."(6)
Even when Brisby's needs are met, her voice is still often
silenced. When she meets Nicodemus to tell him of the Owl's
advice, she begins to say, "Your majesty, my family is--," but is
interrupted by the leader of the rats who assures her, "I know
of your needs." Despite his forthcoming aid and his apparent
sympathy, by anticipating her needs, he also prevents her from
telling her own story or even asking formally for aid. By
contrast, in the novel when Frisby journeys to the Rosebush,
Nicodemus must ask her "what is it we can do to help you,"(7)
and Frisby then recounts her own story to him.
This silence and hesitancy also marks Brisby's role as mother.
When Auntie Shrew, mocked by the Brisby children, tells their
mother, "I have just one thing to say: that child is a brat!"
Mrs. Brisby's only response is an obsequious "Yes, I will speak
to him." Brisby's interaction with the Shrew not only
demonstrates her silence, but most clearly her lack of power as
a mother. the role of the Shrew is more developed in the film
than in the novel; in the film she functions as mother to Brisby
and even reminds Brisby of her own responsibilities as a
mother. Although Brisby, fearing her home will be destroyed
does attempt to disable the plow herself, she is immediately
paralyzed by her fear of heights, and the Shrew must complete
the sabotage and rescue Brisby, who huddles atop the plow
trembling and ineffective. Their conversation immediately
following that rescue highlights Brisby's failure as a mother-
figure and the ways other characters must direct her actions.
Brisby (crying): I wish Jonathan were here.
Shrew (chiding): Well, he's not. Stop it!
Brisby: What am I going to do?
Shrew: We'll think of something. Come on. Let's get out of
here. The Great Owl would know what to do about this. You
must go see him.
Brisby: I couldn't do that. Owls eat mice.
Shrew: Well, my child, show a little courage, we're fighting for
Timothy's life.
Nicodemus (who observes this scene with the aid of magical
powers): Jonathan, your wife, I fear, is in desperate trouble.
A visit to the Great Owl might indeed be profitable. Go to the
Owl, then, Mrs. Brisby. Go there!
Later, as Jeremy the Crow prepares to fly Brisby to the Owl's
home, Brisby repeats that "Owls eat mice" and exclaims, "I
don't know how I let you talk me into this!" The incident in
which Brisby visits the Great Owl forms the basis for both the
film's solution and the rats' early recognition of Brisby's
courage, yet it is a scene filled with depictions of her own
inadequacies. It is, after all, Auntie Shrew who comes up with
the idea to visit the Owl and must remind Brisby of her own
responsibilities as a mother, Nicodemus who seems to
magically induce her to go to the Owl, and Jeremy who
provides her with transportation, albeit against her better
judgment. These characters all direct her to the Owl, and she
journeys there more at their behest than her own will. In
O'Brien's novel, however, it is clear that Frisby's role as mother
provides an underpinning for her strength. When she is
frightened, she remembers that her children are depending on
her, and thus ably faces the obstacles before her. In essence,
there is clear interdependence between her children and herself:
her children encourage her psychological fortitude and she
provides their means of survival.
In the novel, her role as wife, too, gives her a measure of
authority for it brings with it a sense of her personal and even
sexual experience. In the novel when Frisby first journeys to
the Rosebush, she meets Isabella, a young rat who has a crush
on Justin. When Justin arrives and absentmindedly calls
Isabella "Izzy," Mrs. Frisby thinks, "It did not matter...if Justin
called her Izzy, just so he called her something".(8) In Bluth's
version of the story, however, when Brisby meets Justin she
herself becomes that lovesick child. Flattered by Justin's
attentions and gallantry, she murmurs "how beautiful" as she
stares at him, then quickly corrects herself "...the lights [I
mean]." A child to Auntie Shrew and a lovesick, inexperienced
girl to Justin, the Brisby character is also diminished in her
dealings with Nicodemus, whom in awed whispers she
repeatedly calls "Your majesty."
Independence vs. interdependence
O'Brien's depiction of Frisby is built upon his vision that in a
dangerous world, survival requires networks based upon
interdependencies. In the novel, Frisby's act of saving Jeremy
from the cat brings about all other events. It is after she saves
him, at her own risk, that he suggests she visit the Owl and
agrees to fly her there. The Owl is initially uninterested in
listening to Frisby, but agrees after he learns what she has done
for Jeremy. He tells her, "please understand that I have no
interest at all...in helping mice to solve their problems. If you
have indeed saved a bird from the cat, I will spare you a few
minutes."(9) Once he discovers that she is Jonathan's widow,
he suggests that she go to the rats. The aid they give her is
based on an accepted system of interdependencies--Jonathan
had helped them, so in his absence, they will help his family--
but this is a system of which Frisby herself is already a part.
Because she had aided Jeremy, he helps her meet the Owl.
Because of her courage and her willingness to aid others, the
Owl respects and helps her. This is a much different depiction
from that in the film where Brisby is aided only because of her
vulnerability and because she is Jonathan's widow.
O'Brien's vision of interdependencies includes a presentation of
an often complex world, and this, too, is incorporated into his
characterization of Frisby. In the film, when Moving Day
arrives, Auntie Shrew screams hysterically, "Run for your
lives...the plow is here!" signaling the invasion of man as a
certain sign of the slaughter of animals. In this scene, the
rabbits beat the ground in frenzy to warn other animals of their
impending doom, and all race, eyes wide in terror, to escape
the fields. In the novel, however, O'Brien is careful to show
the varied facets of Moving Day; it is admittedly a day in which
animals will be killed by the plow if they are caught unaware in
the fields, but it is also due to the plowing that animals have
food to eat for the rest of the year. Frisby is full aware of the
dual dangers and benefits of Moving Day, and despite the
Shrew's complaints, she is able to evaluate and dismiss the
Shrew's comments thus showing that she is often a more
rational creature than the Shrew and certainly more so than the
Brisby of the film, and also that the world she inhabits is one of
far more complexity than that found in The Secret of NIMH.
Because, in the film, the central focus is the development of
Brisby's character, it is against a backdrop of her early and
exaggerated inferiority and insecurity that she must establish
her independence. This developed sense of independence is,
however, ultimately problematic both in the way it redefines
the issues of the novel and in its own inherent contradictions.
Brisby's use of "Your majesty" when addressing Nicodemus,
for example, not only serves to emphasize her powerlessness
by setting up a hierarchy in which she is subservient, but also
restructures the social issues of O'Brien's story. In the novel,
Nicodemus makes it clear that the rats use no titles. From the
way they attend meetings, vote on important decisions, and
work together to compete their move to Thorn Valley--a move
based on their rejection of capitalist competition as self-
destructive and on their idealism of self-sufficiency and hard
work--it is clear that their community is based on a democratic,
often socialist, model. The use of distinguishing ranks in the
film--including royal titles--supplants the complexities of the
communal societies in the novel with more simplistic,
hierarchical ones. This too, is a reflection of the way Bluth
exchanges O'Brien's vision of communities as networks of
interdependent links, for a presentation of communities largely
defined as the projections of the ego and individuality of
leaders.
The film's portrayal of simple moral oppositions is a fairly harsh
revision of O'Brien's morally complex tale. Just as ambivalent
connotations of Moving Day are simplified to clear-cut
depictions of danger, so too, for example, are the scientists
redefined only as cruel and evil. In the film when Nicodemus
describes his internment at NIMH, he recalls the many animals
who "were put through the most unspeakable tortures to
satisfy some scientific curiosity. Often at night I would hear
them crying out in anguish." The horror of experimentation is
exacerbated by a scene of large-eyed and whimpering puppies,
and of a monkey holding its children, unable, of course, to
protect them. The scientists are objectified and only their
hands are shown as they inject the rats with long needles that
induce painful reactions. Despite O'Brien's obvious criticisms
of the over-ambitious goals of science and the dangers of
experimentation, he is careful not to provide facile
characterizations of scientists. The rats, Nicodemus recounts,
were held "gently but firmly" and the scientists were generally
"kind." When a lab assistant had sympathized with one of the
rats, saying, "Poor little thing, he's frightened,"(10) she is
reprimanded by the scientist not because of her sensitivity but
because she mistook the rat's gender.
This attempt to resolve the ambiguity of O'Brien's world is
inherently connected to the revision of the Frisby character.
The battle of good and evil is played out against the backdrop
of Brisby's coming independence and demonstrated strength--
that is, as she moves from weak to a strong character. Brisby
does show independence when she finally escapes from the
Fitzgibbon's cage by herself, journeys to the rats to warn them
of the coming threat of the NIMH scientists, and then save her
children's lives as their home begins to sink beneath the mud.
Indeed, this image of a newly empowered Brisby becoming a
heroic mother and saving her children when the rats about her
are powerless to help, provides the climatic scene of the film.
Brisby symbolically finds her voice in the scene when she
climbs atop a block and addresses the rats, warning them of the
NIMH scientists. Although speaking out can be seen as a
means of assertion, the power Brisby achieves in this scene is
questionable. The warning she brings to the rats does
ultimately save them, but her more passive and helpless
femininity is reestablished when Jenner viciously casts her aside
and Justin must defend her in the ensuing sword fight. This
scene clearly demonstrates Bluth's concern with individual and
personal power, and the way his vision erases O'Brien's views
of community, ambiguity and moral complexity.
While the imagery connected with Brisby's development is
contradictory, the film's concern with personal power is
nonetheless clear. In the film, Jenner battles first Nicodemus
then Justin to become the leader of the rats and fulfill his "lust
for power." Justin, a gallant, swashbuckling hero, confronts
Jenner in a sword fight that dramatizes the central conflict as a
battle of individual wills. Although O'Brien's story focuses on
different ways of envisioning community, it is not community
but leaders that are preeminent in the film. This is clear both in
the development of conflicts never present in the book and in
the ways characters are rewritten. In the film, even the
depiction of the contentious Mr. Ages stresses personal hubris
and misses O'Brien's point of survival based on mutual aid and
interdependence.
The problem of magic
The vision of success as individual accomplishment is seen in
the way Brisby ostensibly saves her family through her own
courage. Yet, for Mrs. Brisby, even in this climatic scene,
personal power is problematic and fleeting. As the Brisby's
home sinks, the magic amulet pops out of the mud and moves
of its own accord to Brisby, who shies away from it. Then
Nicodemus's voice is heard repeating the rhyme, "Courage of
the heart is very rare. The stone has a power when it's there."
Brisby grasps the stone, she is infused by its magic, and the
house rises, steered by a magical, umbilical-like cord and set
down in a safe place. Exhausted, Brisby faints.
Although critics of fantasy literature often point out that magic
serves as an external reflection of inner will, there is an inherent
irony in the use of a physical talisman to empower intangible
will. That irony is evident here, for while in O'Brien's novel
accomplishments are made through the ingenuity and strengths
of the characters, the introduction of magic into the film
suggests the need for something more than the individual or
community to evince power. Further, if this is the scene which
defines Brisby's ultimate power--as she stands with arms raised
and body glowing wile the magic of the amulet courses
through her--that power is quickly deflated. Brisby, whom
Nicodemus defines as no longer faint-hearted, ironically faints
once the stone accomplishes its task. That final image of her
passivity--that is, Brisby in an unconscious faint--in some ways
even characterizes her role in this scene. The amulet had come
to her of its own accord, the dead Nicodemus had orchestrated
the event, and it had been the amulet that empowered Brisby.
Indeed, Brisby's ostensible power is quickly neutralized and she
recovers her prescribed femininity through the ensuing
exaggerated faint when, evoking a sentimentalized heroine, she
raises her paw to her head, swoons, then delicately and
gracefully falls to the ground, knees first, cape wrapped about
her.
In O'Brien's novel, there is no amulet, no magic that suddenly
empowers Frisby. Neither does she rescue herself from the
Fitzgibbon's cage. While Frisby is nervous about her task of
drugging the cat Dragon, she comforts and encourages herself-
-unlike Brisby, who needs the continued reassurances of Justin;
yet once she is caught and trapped in the cage she finds the
"door was stiff and it was heavy, and she could not get a good
enough grip on it...to exert much pressure."(11) Finally, Justin
returns and frees her with his "Burglar's tools," making sure her
escape will not invite the suspicions of the Fitzgibbon family.
Although this might appear to demonstrate Frisby's weakness,
when her character is viewed within the context of O'Brien's
world view, her rescue by the rat is inevitable. The system of
interdependencies, which runs throughout the novel and serves
as the cohesion for communities, means that it is not a
lessening of Frisby's power when Justin must release her from
the Fitzgibbon's cage. Frisby has had the courage and
intelligence to survive the animal world thus far, but survival
must often depend upon aid from others. Hence, just as
Jonathan had once escaped NIMH because the rats had helped
him, then repaid the rats by releasing the final barriers that kept
them imprisoned, so too is Mrs. Frisby now released from the
cage by Justin and soon thereafter returns the favor by telling
the rats of the impending visit of the NIMH scientists. In many
ways, this escape parallels the earlier one of her husband and
the rats at NIMH. There, the imprisoned Jonathan had told the
rats, "We [mice] would like to go, too, but we cannot open our
cages." The mice had been trapped because, being smaller than
the rats, they "can't reach far enough to unlatch [the
doors]."(12) After the rats free them, Jonathan and Mr. Ages
then save the rats' lives by unlocking the final exit from the
building.
While The Secret of NIMH, focuses on the development of
Mrs. Brisby as she seeks to save her family, this change in
focus entails the resolution of much of the novel's
complexity.(13) Such a change comes at the cost of
transforming the central focus of the story from community to
independence, and even those depictions of independence
become problematic. Such is the case, for example, when Mrs.
Brisby must be counseled, badgered, supported, and
"magicked" to personal power. By citing individual will as the
preeminent concern and by making clear-cut depictions of
good and evil--then locating that good or evil in characters as
one would in a morality play--the film simplifies the world
O'Brien creates in Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH.
When Bluth left the Disney studios in 1979 one of his concerns
was reportedly that "Disney was...producing namby-pamby
stories, protecting youthful audiences from the grim realities of
traditional fairy tales."(14) Although The Secret of NIMH
provides the punishment of the villain, the reunion of the
family, and the final triumph of the initially weak character--
typical elements of fairy tales--it also borrows from fairy tales
unambiguous characters and conflicts. It denies O'Brien's call
for a complex vision in children's literature. O'Brien's world is
not one of simple dependence or independence, but of
interdependence. Characters must help each other as they
move through a place where Moving Day means both life and
death, and Thorn Valley becomes the hope for a new future
and a dream already cursed by their inculcation of human
knowledge. It is a world of problems and ambiguity not easily
resolved. And to live in such a world, to provide aid to other
in a common quest for survival, characters such as Mrs. Frisby
must already be cautious, capable, and intelligent.
Notes
1. O'Brien, "Newbery Award Acceptance," 348.
2. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 3.
3. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 4
4. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 7
5. Lakoff, 7. See Lakoff for a discussion of "Women's
language." She asserts that "Women speak in italics, and the
more ladylike and feminine you are, the more in italics you are
supposed to speak" (56). This link between language and
femininity seems evident in the Brisby character throughout the
film.
6. In the film, when the blustering Auntie Shrew comes to visit
the Brisby children, it is the youngest Brisby mouse, Cynthia,
who tugs on the Shrew's cloak, trying to be heard as she tells
her "Timmy's sick." Auntie Shrew, who only hears this news
when the older Teresa is speaking to her, silences and chastises
Cynthia by telling her, "Don't fidget. You're so like your
mother." The Shrew's comparison does evoke images of Mrs.
Brisby who repeatedly tells others "Timothy's sick," but along
the way is also often silenced and ignored. In this instance,
O'Brien's depiction of Cynthia as "a little light-headed" (8) and
"small [and] scatterbrained" (21) seems transferred from the
novel (as the character Cynthia) to the film (as Brisby).
7. O'Brien, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, 90
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. Ibid.
13. Although a separate issue for discussion, it is interesting to
note that the two sequels to Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH
written by Jane Leslie Conly also largely resolve any issues of
ambiguity in O'Brien's novel. While O'Brien emphasizes the
uncertainties through the number of unanswered questions in
his book--whether Jenner or Justin die, for example--those
questions are answered in Conly's sequel, Racso and the Rats
of NIMH. This pattern of resolution is largely true of her
second book, R-T, Margaret, and the Rats of NIMH.
Although that book ends with the rats disappearing from their
living place at Thorn Valley, it is clear that the rats have moved
to a different location, and that this serves not so much as real
ambiguity as a possible plot for a following book.
14. "The Rebel Nibbling at Disney's World," 68.
Works Cited
Conly, Jane Leslie. Racso and the Rats of NIMH. New York:
Harper and Row, 1986
Conly, Jane Leslie. R-T, Margaret and the Rats of NIMH.
New York, Harper and Row, 1990
Lakoff, Robin. Language and Woman's Place. New York:
Harper and Row, 1975
O'Brien, Robert C. Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH (1971).
New York: Aladdin-MacMillan, 1975.
O'Brien, Robert C. "Newbery Award Acceptance." The Horn
Book 48 (August 1972): 343-348.
"The Rebel Nibbling at Disney's World." Fortune 106 (4
October 1982), 68/
The Secret of NIMH. Directed by Don Bluth. MGM/UA,
1982.
About the Author
Paula T. Connolly received her doctorate at the University of
Massachusetts at Amherst. She is an Assistant Professor at the
University of North Carolina at Charlotte, where she teaches
courses in children's literature and film. She has also published
several articles on children's fantasy literature.
The paper was, as far as I can remember, published in a book called "the antic art". It hasn't been seen on the internet in nearly a decade.