A LITTLE PRINCESS (1995)

The best qualities of Alfonso Cuarón’s second feature film, A Little Princess (adapted from Frances Hodgson Burnett’s 1905 children’s book of the same name), refer to its title. Protagonist Sara Crewe (Liesel Matthews) isn’t like the other students at the New York all-girls’ boarding school she’s sent to, having been blessed with natural leadership qualities, a kind heart, and a vivid imagination. But what is most remarkable about Sara is how adamantly she tries to convince her peers that they can be just like her if they would only allow themselves to. Just imagine a child-oriented, unironic version of the absurd and patronising quests to right others’ lives from the protagonist of Amy Heckerling’s Clueless (released in the same year as A Little Princess).

Most other children’s films, no matter how well-intentioned, would have focused squarely on the tale of ‘The Little Princess’, especially given that Sara’s optimism is seriously tested—but never broken—by the tragedies and dire circumstances that befall her. As if growing up without a mother or being sent away to a boarding school in a foreign country isn’t bad enough, she must cope with her father’s death and being thrust into poverty for the first time in her life. Alone and destitute, she becomes a lowly caretaker at the school where she once spent happy days as a privileged student. But while this is her story, the test of Sara’s character isn’t in whether or not she can thrive despite her fall from grace, but whether she can retain her optimism. Her penchant for storytelling is occasionally diminished, but on the whole she still firmly believes not just that she herself is a princess, but that all of the girls at this school, regardless of how kind or cruel they are, are princesses in their own right. She knows she is just one of many, and finds hope in this knowledge even when no one else seems to share it.

This magical and endearing tale is also aided greatly by Cuarón’s compelling direction, whose sweeping camera movements liven up a story that sometimes feels like it’s going through the motions. The Mexican filmmaker’s visual flair should come as no surprise to long-time fans of his, given his ability to demonstrate his talents deftly even when working within the studio system. His direction in the Harry Potter film Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004) is justifiably acclaimed, marking it as a stand-out entry in the eight-part film series. Unlike his most daring films, from the tense grittiness of Children of Men (2006) to the jaw-dropping sci-fi spectacle of Gravity (2013), A Little Princess is most akin to his work on Harry Potter. In both cases, he’s hamstrung by a tale that has no illusions about its unabashedly sentimental, caricatural notes, with an outlandish villain in boarding school headmistress Maria Minchin (Eleanor Bron), as well as undercooked plotting that can’t quite match its well-meaning optimism.

The filmmaker, or someone else on this team, was also clearly taken with the colour green, which features so prominently that it’s more than a little absurd, in spite of its visual appeal. It’s an intriguing colour to use in a story centred on a young girl, with stereotypically feminine colours eschewed for something gender-neutral. After all, Sara’s tales about her early childhood in India, which meld the beauty of that place with flights of fancy plucked from her imagination, hardly ever feature the colour. Natural greenery is also near-impossible to find on the bustling New York City streets, which, in this film’s time period of 1914, are filled to the brim with impoverished souls draped in dirty, well-worn clothing. As Minchin is so adamant to instil in this protagonist (to the extent that she derives satisfaction from Sara’s low social standing), this is a cruel world that offers no place for dreamers. That Sara should challenge this natural law of the universe is a greater affront to the strict headmistress than any defiance of the boarding school’s rules.

In that case, the prevalence of the colour green mirrors the genuine, organic warmth of this protagonist, whose very presence combats the psychological stagnation that has taken over the boarding school and instils a sense of growth. She forms a lasting bond with Becky (Vanessa Lee Chester), the school’s only African American student, who’s forbidden to talk to the others and must earn her keep through menial labour, all while living in the building’s squalid attic. Screenwriters Richard LaGravenese and Elizabeth Chandler don’t shy away from the racism directed at Belle, where she’s excluded in just about every sense from the other girls. It’s only Sara’s kind-heartedness that presents hopeful notes for the other students (including Taylor Fry’s bratty Lavinia, who starts off as an adversary of this protagonist but is eventually won over by her).

Sara embodies the freshness and vitality that this dour, humourless, and remarkably unimaginative place needs, yet her role as the saviour of these girls is impressively understated. Perhaps that’s because A Little Princess isn’t afraid of introducing sombre notes into this narrative, which put a dent in this protagonist’s spirits and test her strength of will. But while this film is lucky to have a talented director at the helm, pure and endearing qualities at its centre, and effectively tragic moments in this narrative, it’s far from a perfect movie. The mix of tones, from jubilance to tragedy to just plain silliness, never quite finds a good balance here, especially with plot points falling by the wayside as Sara’s inner and outer battles intensify.

Whereas Minchin is hard-hearted yet reasonable, Lavinia is a little terror, yet their roles in this story are effectively swapped halfway through the film. Minchin might have been stern, but she wanted the best for these girls, and had enough of a heart to tell Sara the tragic news of her father’s death in private, as well as offering her a place to stay for no charge (however meagre these living conditions may have been). Lavinia, meanwhile, was an unrepentant bully who seemed as if she was devised in a lab to stamp out the concept of kindness. The former turns into a cartoonish villain whose behaviour is as theatrically ridiculous as the likes of Cruella de Vil, whereas the latter becomes a rather sympathetic character in the end. Why, exactly? To prove this film’s points that any girl, even a stuck-up brat like Lavinia, can be a princess. This hearty and uplifting attitude might be A Little Princess’ shining quality, but it finds no way of accessing that authentically in this instance.

While talented child actors are less rare than they’re given credit for, they are scarce in this film, where only Matthews shines out of the many child performances. And while the adult actors all do a fine job, some of the side characters feel like throwaways. The romance between Maria’s younger sister Amelia (Rusty Schwimmer) and Frances (Time Winters) touches on slapstick humour at times, but none of it is funny, with their brief scenes together failing to leave any lasting impressions.

While A Little Princess might fall by the wayside with regards to its humour, it’s a surprisingly compelling drama, one which carries on the legacy of Disney classics like Cinderella (1950) in their fairy tale myths for young girls to watch with wide-eyed adoration. The only difference here is that an added dose of melodrama makes it even easier to empathise with Sara. Unfortunately, it’s not always possible to forget about the other characters—and child actors—that crowd around this narrative, dulling the power of Matthews’ strong leading performance as the defiant, endearing protagonist who holds this movie together.

USA | 1995 | 97 MINUTES | 1.85:1 | COLOUR | ENGLISH FRENCH

Cast & Crew

director: Alfonso Cuarón.
writers: Richard LaGravenese & Elizabeth Chandler (based on the novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett).
starring: Liesel Matthews, Eleanor Bron, Liam Cunningham, Vanessa Lee Chester, Taylor Fry, Rusty Schwimmer, Time Winters & Heather DeLoach.