My garden of musings

There are indeed some very memorable versions of this moment in different adaptations.

Disney's animated film was especially innovative in its choice to have Cinderella get back into her carriage, ride away, and almost reach home before the last stroke of twelve changes everything back, with the palace guards chasing after her on horseback all the while. This obviously doesn't happen in Perrault's tale: there the de-transformation happens before she exits the palace grounds, as when the Prince asks the guard at the gates if he saw a lady leaving, he says no, just a peasant girl in rags. But Disney adds great suspense by having her ride away at breakneck speed, with the guards in hot pursuit, and then at the clock's last chime, having her hair come loose, the coach change from white to pumpkin-orange, and the wheels turn back into vines before everything fully changes back.

It's no wonder that several other versions copy that sequence closely. These include the 1979 Russian animated short, the 1996 anime Cinderella Monogatari, Disney's 2015 live action remake of course, and the 2021 Sony/Amazon musical. Although they usually add their own unique touches too. After the 1979 Russian Cinderella de-transforms, she sits down in tears under a statue of the Virgin Mary (which probably represents her own mother's spirit still watching over her), and the Prince, King, and royal courtiers don't even notice her as they run past her in search of the "lady." The 2015 remake adds the slightly melodramatic CGI touch of having the horses slowly regain their mouse features and the coachman and footmen slowly regain their animal features – and cleverly, has one of the footmen take advantage of this and use his newly-reformed lizard tail to slam the castle gate shut and keep the Grand Duke and guards from following them any further.

And then there's the cheesy comedy added in the 2021 musical, where the James Corden footman keeps his human head for just a few seconds after the rest of his body has changed back into a mouse, where the coachman changes back into a mouse while the coach is still moving, which forces Girlboss Cinderella to take the reigns herself to save them from crashing, and the drawn-out pause where they think they're all going to fall when the coach changes back, only to be relieved when it doesn't, but then, WHAM, it does change back and they fall after all. But before all that silliness happens, I do like the way Cinderella's gown de-materializes – since it was conjured up out of tree blossoms, at midnight it slowly flurries away into floating petals. (Which recalls some adaptations of the Grimms' Aschenputtel, where the gown forms from the leaves of the tree on her mother's grave, then changes back into leaves which return to the tree when she gets home.)

Another version of the de-transformation that especially stands out is in 1976's The Slipper and the Rose. There, the palace's outdoor staircase isn't just a single flight of stairs, but several flights of stairs that wind this way and that, each ending with a newel post topped with flowers in a stone pot. Each time Cinderella reaches a landing, turns a corner, and is momentarily hidden by the post and flowers, her gown becomes more disheveled and gradually changes from pink to gray as it turns back into her work dress, while her white wig comes loose and slowly turns brown as it changes back to her own hair. All this happens amid magical showers of pink rose petals from the air above her. By the time she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she's changed entirely back to her former self, and then she sees that the coach, horses, and coachman have changed back too.

In the 1985 Faerie Tale Theatre version, the fact that all the magical transformations and de-transformations take place in explosions of smoke and sparkles reinforce how jarring the sudden reversion is for Cinderella, as she's just about to climb into her coach when the explosion happens, and when the smoke clears we see her sprawled on the ground in her rags, knocked down by the blast, next to the pumpkin, mice, and rat.

But even simple versions that just have an instant, non-explosive de-transformation as Cinderella runs down the stairs, and then have her run past the pumpkin and mice as she escapes into the night, can be very effective. In the 1997 version of Rodgers and Hammerstein's musical, the wave of golden sparkles that sweeps over her and changes her finery back to rags is beautiful and magical despite its simplicity. The 1947 Russian version uses a simple stage-like trick of having Cinderella slip behind a column, then reemerge on the other side in her rags, but then has a tense and poignant moment as she hides behind the column to keep the Prince from seeing her as he comes outside. And the emotions a Cinderella actress conveys can be just as important as any magical effect. Mary Pickford in the 1914 silent version and Brandy in the 1997 musical both poignantly look themselves over in disbelief and disappointment that their finery is gone, but then quickly shift to fear of getting caught and hurry away. And even more heartbreaking is Lesley Ann Warren's 1965 Rodgers and Hammerstein Cinderella, who is truly distraught to see her gown become rags again and runs away sobbing.

The two cruelest de-transformations, however, are in the two French silent versions directed by Georges Méliès, where the Fairy Godmother appears at the palace, angry that Cinderella disobeyed her by failing to leave the ball before midnight, and personally transforms her gown back to rags as punishment. The 1899 version is the worst, because this takes place in the ballroom in front of the Prince and the whole court, and the stepsisters other ladies in laughing at her when they see who she is. At least in the 1913 version, the Fairy Godmother spares her such humiliation by letting her escape into a hallway first.

I've also noticed that several adaptations have the pumpkin shatter after it changes back from the coach. In Disney's animated film, the guards run over it on their horses, while in other versions it just shatters when it falls to the ground. Either way, the sight of its destruction definitely reinforces that Cinderella's night of magic is over.

I hope future adaptations find creative new ways to handle this scene.

Case in point!

I'm reminded of the time we read Kafka's The Metamorphosis in school and the teacher asked us to raise our hands if we actually thought it was about a man transforming into a bug, and....I raised my hand. Because yes??? That is literally what happens! However, I also understood and knew it was acting as a metaphor too! But just because it is a metaphoric commentary on mental illness / disability and the way people around you change their treatment of you, doesn't mean the actual story is not literally about a dude who turns into a bug!

In-universe? Elsa has ice powers. Magic that creates ice and snow comes out of her hands, which can bury a whole kingdom without her even realizing it, which can stab you with ice shards or even conjure up a snow-monster to chase you away, and which will slowly transform you into ice if a blast of it hits you in the heart. This magic is linked to her emotions and becomes hard to control when she's upset, but can be controlled by love.

You need to get off Facebook, they have the worst takes 😅 (honestly, it's ridiculous over there)

oh boy I seem to have touched a nerve

so, I agree with none of these assessments of Rochester except "liar." the internet seems to have forgotten this, but grooming means conditioning someone to accept (in this case) otherwise unwanted romantic and/or sexual advances.

is it weird that Jane is 18 and Rochester's 40? very much so! even within the text people comment on it! but their romance is definitely not grooming. they have some fairly normal conversations and then she's madly in love with him. (and if you mean grooming in the even move common internet sense exclusively implying child abuse, Jane is very much acting as an adult within her society, albeit a young one. there were average age gaps back then, but there were not the social barriers between New Adults and Older Adults that we have now. you were just Not An Adult and then An Adult, end of)

as for abuse, if you're talking about Bertha...taking the text at face value, he doesn't do wrong by her, IMO. she has Incurable Violent Psychosis of Never Coming Back From this Ever. medications are not a thing. therapy is not a thing. divorce can only be obtained in cases of infidelity, and if HE wanted to sue for divorce, he'd have to prove that SHE had been unfaithful. which she is seemingly incapable of doing because, again, she recognizes no-one and is not lucid

he has two options: keep her at home or send her to an asylum. now, an early 19th century asylum COULD be fine and try to help her, contrary to popular belief. but it could also be abusive. and one might not know just upon going to view the place as a prospective "client," because they'd try t put their best foot forward

so he engages her a nurse. he gives her comfortable rooms and good food. he locks her in, but she is amply proven to be a danger to others (and herself, since she eventually commits suicide during the fire), so that seems unfortunately prudent. and I don't really see how he could do better under the circumstances

now, how the text handles Bertha, Doylist-style, is HIGHLY open to criticism, through lenses of racism and ableism and more. Mr. Rochester and Bertha are not people; they are characters, and they reflect the author's deeply flawed ideas about race, mental illness, culpability in marriage to a spouse whose mental state deteriorates, and more. but again, taking it at face value, I don't think he does abuse her

obviously he lies. the guy tries to marry a woman without telling her he's already married. that's a pretty huge transgression. and before that he tries to make her jealous by pretending to be engaged to another woman. but it's a Gothic novel, so...par for the course

whereas St. John is actively shitty to Jane. you want to talk abuse? try "forces a woman to abandon her own wishes and plans and do what he wants, tells her she's not made to be loved, tries to use religious coercion to override her refusal of his marriage proposal, tells her she's going to hell if she doesn't marry him, at times straight-up says that yes she will marry him actually, and is generally such a stifling and controlling douchebag that she thinks marriage to him might actually kill her and his own sisters tell her not to do it."

It's old-fashioned. It's modern. It's butch. It's femme. It's snazzy. It's practical.

Wikipedia talks about the bloomers and the leg-o-mutton sleeves, but I'm also noticing a lot of these outfits have absolute supervillain lapels, which I also like a lot.

I didn't know until now that it was real historical fashion!

Executive dysfunction comes from a lack of available dopamine. Common advice is wrong. You need to provide your own dopamine before you can start. Otherwise you're trying to run your car on empty.

"But what if I still don't do it" well you already weren't getting it done anyway. Now you have a little treat. Try again later.

You deserve kindness and care even when you aren't being productive.

I usually suggest this technique as a "Reverse Pomodoro." In the original Pomodoro, you work for 25 minutes and then take a break for 5 minutes (the times vary, but that's the essential ratio). People with executive dysfunction often find this insurmountable, and they get even more frustrated, and then the task seems even more difficult. So instead, flip those times.

FIRST, spend 25 minutes doing something energizing and engaging that you like to do. Not scrolling social media passively, not watching tv, not napping. Try something like colouring, doing yoga, running/walking around the block, talking about your favourite tv show with someone in real time, playing with the dog or cat, making and eating a lovely sandwich, hula hooping, something active. Having a little treat absolutely falls in this category!

(on the subject of little treats: refusing yourself food until you do work is for fucking Puritans and you can be kinder to yourself)

Then, after 25 minutes (or however long it takes to eat the sandwich or finish the yoga routine, it doesn't have to be exact), spend 5 minutes writing (or doing whatever you're struggling to start). Most people can coax themselves into doing something they find difficult for five minutes, if they have already filled up the joy/energy/engagement bucket. You can put a timer on for the 5 minutes if you want, or if you find that annoying, just work for as long as you like.

The other key is: don't push yourself to keep going when you're frustrated or tired—that will just reinforce the negative belief that you already have, which tells you that this task is painful to do, and needs to be avoided. If you've commonly had to force yourself to do this kind of task, that's likely part of why you think of it as painful and have trouble starting it now. Also, you should just, at a basic level, try not to put yourself in pain for the sake of productivity. So just do it till the good feelings run out. Then start hula hooping or colouring again for another 25 minutes. When the tank's refilled, try another 5 minutes of work, if you can. Adjust times to taste.

I think Jane Bennet is a complex character in her own way, but I don't think she's either the moral backbone or a parody.

Jane Bennet is a foil for her sister Elizabeth. I think they respond to their overly cynical and insulting father in opposite ways, Elizabeth joins along while Jane tries to think the best of people. Neither of them get it right, but Jane is the one who thinks they need more information, while Elizabeth relies on her first impressions. Both of them correct themselves and move closer to the centre: Jane is more clear-eyed when Caroline writes to her after her engagement and Elizabeth has learned how foolish she was about Darcy and Wickham. It's interesting that Wickham is a big factor for both of them, Jane refused to accept people in the world could be that bad, Elizabeth was taken in by him.

Instead of a parody of perfect heroines, I think Jane comes off as more of a tragedy of following expectations. Her modesty and good manners mean she does as unrealistically demanded by her society and doesn't betray how much she likes Bingley. Unfortunately, this is used against her as evidence that she doesn't love him. She does everything right and still loses.