How Disney Killed Snow White

Disney’s live action version of Snow White, a spectacular flop at the box office, continues to get widespread criticism. Many have directed their ire at lead actress Rachel Zegler, whose flippant comments to the press—about how “weird” it is that the prince in the 1937 animated film “literally stalks” Snow White, and how the new film takes a “different approach”—have hurt public reception. (Zegler wasn’t the first to call Snow White “weird.” In 2018, actress Kristen Bell, who voices Anna in Frozen, told Parents magazine that she tells her kids it’s “weird that the prince kisses Snow White without her permission” and “weird that Snow White didn’t ask the old witch why she needed to eat the apple.”)

But even without Zegler’s comments, the film on its own does the greatest damage to itself. The twenty-three-year-old actress has been scapegoated by the film’s director (Marc Webb) and screenwriter (Erin Cressida Wilson), whose handiwork aligns with the mission of the original film’s evil queen—working with all their might to destroy Snow White and what she represents. The 2025 film brazenly removes the heart of the original film’s princess. It was dead on arrival.

The 1937 Snow White is the only Disney princess film that includes a literal depiction of prayer. Many age-old stories contain allegories for divine intervention (fairy godmothers, for instance) but in the original Snow White, the princess kneels at her bedside and prays. She prays for the seven dwarves, for Grumpy to like her, and for her dreams to come true—namely, that someday, her “prince will come.” (Lest we forget, the prince was a man she knew and liked from her time at the castle, not a complete stranger.) She prays for safety.

And her prayers are answered. The evil queen is vanquished by a lightning strike from the heavens. Divine help is integral in the 1937 film; the dwarves, the prince, and the princess just participate in it.

In the live action film, there is no prayer for love and marriage. Not only that, desiring such things is ridiculed. Snow White’s archetypal songs “I’m Wishing” and “Someday My Prince Will Come” have been replaced with a new forgettable song, “Waiting on a Wish,” which mocks the concept of wishing, hopes, and dreams altogether. Snow White’s characteristic joy is replaced with depressed sarcasm: “So she’s dreaming all alone / Sharing secrets with the stone . . . / Holding out for someday / Hoping somehow, some way / There comes a miracle to find me . . .  / But I’m still waiting here / Waiting on a wish . . . / Can I somehow, some way / Learn to be my father’s daughter . . . / Someone no one needs to save.” The soul of the whole Disney story has been removed.

It’s clear the filmmakers chose to tackle head-on the concept that Disney princesses are only waiting around for a prince. But they couldn’t find a way to make it work—not to mention, the concept is a willful misreading of the original. (One would think that Disney ought to understand its own work.) In the filmmakers’ modern critique, they simply rewrote the story and have invented a new, hollow heroine in Snow White clothing, lacking all of the virtues of the original princess.

In the classic, Snow White sweeps while singing “Whistle While You Work.” In the remake, she noticeably offloads the broom to one of the dwarves. The filmmakers are clearly trying to remove any insinuation that cooking and cleaning are women’s work. But the Snow White in the original is defined by cheerful acceptance of such duties—performed in gratitude for the dwarves’ hospitality—and hopeful optimism in the face of hardship and persecution. In the new version, Snow White is despondent and worn down by injustice. The impression one is left with is that the filmmakers rewrote the character because they simply do not like Snow White. 

Ultimately, the film’s biggest weakness is that it makes no sense. It has no cohesive philosophy even for its new story direction. Sure, the values of fairness and interior beauty aren’t horrible ideas, but they don’t a complete story make.

There are, of course, echoes of the original—the blue and yellow dress; the scary forest; the faces looking down into the wishing well. But the adjustments and the original don’t cohere. Instead of Snow White and the prince looking together into the well, the new version has Snow White with her father and mother. The implication is that it’s offensive to suggest Snow White has a love interest (the prince). Never mind that her mother and father must have been love interests to one another, at some point, somewhere. And Snow White is the fruit of their union. Which raises the question: Why are the filmmakers so ashamed of romance?

What they miss is that romance is not an end in itself. Neither is “true love’s kiss” an end in itself; it’s an age-old literary symbol of the life-giving power of true love between a man and a woman. Love, marriage, and family start something that goes on and on for generations. And if we re-invite the divine element into the story, the vocation both echoes and leads to one’s heavenly home. This is insinuated as much in the 1937 film: The final scene shows the couple walking off toward a golden glowing castle in the clouds. The happily ever after may indeed be referring to something more eternal than domestic life. In truth, marriage is a union that’s directed toward a higher purpose, a reflection of a higher form of love. When properly understood, there’s nothing “weird” about it.