So…I have Shrek fever.
Since the movie’s release in 2001, Shrek has become something of a cultural phenomenon. Loosely based on the book of the same name by William Steig, it takes place in a fairy tale world and satirizes tropes we’ve come to know from Disney movies. And in recent years, there’s been something of a deeper appreciation from fans as they look back on the franchise. Voice actor Mike Myers said this about his participation:
“I loved the whole idea behind the story, which is that you’re beautiful, so don’t let other people tell you that you’re not just because you don’t look like the people in magazines. Or because you’re not that weird ideal body image that’s out there right now.”
So many people relate to these movies and this message of unconventional beauty.
There are a ton of YouTube videos and essays about what these movies mean for women, queer people, and other minorities. Hell, there are even Marxist interpretations of the series. Like, a lot of them.
Funny thing is, I was going to write this blog post about Puss in Boots and why his character was important in Shrek 2. But while doing research on the movies and the story, I came to another conclusion that I felt needed addressing:
Donkey is the best sidekick.
I don’t just mean that he’s the most supportive of all sidekicks, though he does come close. What I mean is that, narratively speaking, his character is far more important to the overall story than we might think. He may be the silly comic relief character who can be funny or annoying depending on who you ask. But when you put all the jokes aside and look at his story arc, there’s a surprising amount of depth in his connection to the characters, the setting, and the narrative.
What do I mean by this, you might ask? Well, just keep reading to find out.
The Role of a Sidekick
Most of the time, the role of the sidekick is to support someone else’s journey throughout the story, usually the hero or the villain. This is the case with most stories across every genre, from Disney movies to fantasy novels to white savior propaganda. In addition, sidekicks–or at least major side characters–can serve the narrative in ways the main character cannot. These can be any or all of these three roles: the Guide, the Audience Surrogate, and the Symbol.
First, there’s the guide. In cases where the story takes place in another world, the sidekick can offer insight into this world, sometimes acting as the main character’s guide–and by extension, our guide. This is the case with the little creatures in Digimon, Michael in 10 Things I Hate About You, and Steve Trevor in the 2017 movie Wonder Woman.
The second role is the Audience Surrogate. For many of us, a well told story allows us to immerse ourselves within it. How would we adapt? How would we respond to what the main character says and does? What would we do in their situation? The most interesting example of this is Olaf in Frozen 2. The first movie depicts him as the goofy sidekick who supports Anna as she tries to reconnect with her sister. Here, the filmmakers expand his role through no means except showing us more of his relationship with Anna. Because the movie is geared towards children, he himself embodies the spirit of a child. His song is called “When I’m Older,” he tells the story of Frozen the way a child would, and he asks Anna questions that offer insight into where the main characters are in their lives. In fact, the interaction between Olaf and Anna in Frozen 2 gives strong student and elementary school teacher vibes (though that could just be me).
My favorite sidekick role is the Symbol, and how they underline the themes of the story being told. Annie’s mother and Megan from Bridesmaids could qualify, as their backstories relate to the movie’s themes of resilience, reaching out, and hitting rock bottom. I hesitate to call Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender a sidekick, mainly due to the misogyny steeped into the discourse surrounding her story arc. That said, many elements that make up her character–her backstory, her growth, her responses to the world around her–help to highlight the show’s themes of war, imperialism, and trauma.
The thing about Donkey is that he fills all of these roles. He supports Shrek almost from the moment they meet. He isn’t afraid of him, he has no qualms knocking sense into him, and Shrek’s journey becomes his as well. He acts as a guide, not just leading Shrek to Duloc but also helping him navigate his feelings for Fiona and his sense of self. And he becomes the audience surrogate by joining Shrek on his quest and through asking what’s going on in Shrek’s mind.
Then there’s his part as the Symbol. But before we can get into that, we must first ask a crucial question: What is Shrek about?
The Themes of Shrek
The first theme that comes to mind is the unreliability of snap judgments. Everyone writes off Shrek as a “big, stupid, ugly ogre,” a monster whose mere existence is a threat to society. But for the most part, this proves to be untrue. Shrek minds his own business and lives apart from people, only acting out when his space is being threatened. At the start of the film, we find it’s the humans who are the monsters. A group of villagers hunt down Shrek, plotting to kill him. People in the kingdom sell fairy tale creatures so they can be rounded up and sent to a makeshift concentration camp (debatably). Even Robin Hood wants to kill him for the crime of being an ogre lingering too close to a princess.
But Shrek isn’t the only character on the receiving end of snap judgments. Everyone assumes that Princess Fiona is a well-mannered, delicate, beautiful princess. Note how many times Farquaad describes her human form as “perfect” or “flawless.” But as we get to know her, we find that this is only part of who she is. As Laura Crone describes her in her analysis, “She’s gross, she’s an insanely skilled martial artist, and of course, she’s only beautiful when the sun is up.” When Shrek comments on how she doesn’t meet expectations, Fiona throws his own words back at him: “Maybe you shouldn’t judge people before you get to know them.”
Another theme of the movie is beauty privilege and how people are treated based on physical appearance. Shrek’s caste system would be its own blog post in and of itself, and countless writers and YouTubers have already talked about it (links down at the bottom). But here’s the simplified version:
The world of Shrek is built into a social hierarchy that operates on beauty standards. These beauty standards are influenced by the world we the audience know–for example, Fiona’s human form resembles the kind of model we’d see in fashion and beauty magazines. Another factor that comes into play for the social hierarchy is fairy tale essence. In the first movie, we see fairy tale creatures–witches, dwarves, talking pigs, and the like–punished for being fairy tale creatures. They are tortured, sold and sent to a makeshift concentration camp, and in Mama Bear’s case, allegedly turned into Lord Farquaad’s throw rug.
Shrek, of course, is at the bottom of the hierarchy. He’s a fairy tale creature, and he’s an ogre. And throughout history–from Charles Perrualt’s stories to Gail Carson Levine’s bibliography–ogres weren’t popular until Shrek came along. And even then, that hasn’t stopped shows like ABC’s Once Upon a Time from demonizing them.
Things get weird when one considers Farquaad’s place in society. By all outward appearances, he’s at the top of the hierarchy: he makes the rules, he gets away with murder, and he owns everything. However, two things stand in the way of him being at the very top: he’s not a king, and he’s not conventionally beautiful. To become the head honcho, to become king, to become the Chad he wants to be, he must first marry a beautiful princess.
This brings us to Fiona, whose character underlines how fragile the hierarchy is. By day, she is a beautiful princess. But by night, she is an ogre. And as soon as everyone finds out she turns into an ogre at sunset, her political standing immediately changes. She goes from being at the top to being at the bottom, the crown jewel of society to a monster that society must reject.
What makes Shrek unique from other Beauty/Beast stories is its conclusion of beauty. Most stories that address beauty and physical appearance–Beauty and the Beast, Hunchback of Notre Dame, and countless others–conclude that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Shrek goes in a different direction and says that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Shrek and Fiona don’t bond begrudgingly, or when one party realizes the other is nicer than they thought. They bond when they agree not to judge each other. They bond when they admire and appreciate stuff about each other that everyone else takes for granted. They bond over what they have in common.
This is all solidified in the film’s climax, after they share Love’s First Kiss and Fiona becomes an ogre forever. She says, “I’m supposed to be beautiful.” And Shrek’s response is, “But you are beautiful.”
So how does Donkey highlight Shrek’s themes?
Well, first and most obvious is that Donkey, like Shrek, is marginalized by an oppressive system. As a talking donkey, he qualifies as a fairy tale creature. On top of that, he’s a donkey. While donkey’s aren’t demonized in the same way that ogres are, they’re not the most popular creatures, either. The term “ass” is a popular insult, after all. And from what Donkey says about his life before Shrek, it hasn’t been happy. So in many regards, Donkey both relates to and symbolizes Shrek’s place in the hierarchy.
His connection to the theme of beauty is hilariously underlined in his romance with Dragon. Dragon falls in love with him almost instantly, and once she’s hooked the only thing that keeps her away from Donkey is…well, Donkey. Donkey, of course, has reservations about the whole thing at first. She is, after all, a fire-breathing dragon. But when she escapes the tower and the two find comfort in each other, they form a lifelong romance that still begs way too many questions.
When it comes to the theme of snap judgments, we reach an interesting piece of Donkey’s character: he has a blunt perspective on life. He takes things as he sees them, and doesn’t dig far for any hidden meaning. Sometimes, this is detrimental to him. When he and Shrek are stargazing, Shrek points out how the stars can make different shapes–for him, they tell stories. Donkey comments that the stars are just a bunch of dots to him, and doesn’t respond when Shrek comments, “some things are more than they appear.” When Shrek tries to explain how ogres are like onions, Donkey doesn’t understand what he’s trying to say. That said, Donkey’s blunt perspective helps him see things that others don’t. When he meets Shrek, he sees a best friend in the making where others see a monster. When their emotional baggage prevents Shrek and Fiona from seeing things clearly, Donkey already knows the two are perfect for each other. And when he and Shrek argue in the third act, Donkey understands how Shrek’s trauma prevents him from working things out with Fiona.
So, In Conclusion…
I spent months working on this blog post, and I still have Shrek fever.
Shrek is love. Shrek is life.
SHREK. SHREK. SHREK.
Sources used:
- Mike Myers interview, Shrek: Interview With Mike Myers
Further Research:
- Big Joel, “Unpacking the Shrek Series”
- Korviday, “Shrek is Queer Culture and Here’s Why”
