Thus Spake Elsa

Friends of mine may be aware of my enthusiasm for searching the hidden, philosophical depths of the movieFrozen. Some of them have even expressed skepticism, dear reader, that such profundity truly lies beneath the ice of a Disney film, a film which features a singing snowman, no less. Ah, but you and I know, don't we, that there is more here than meets the eye, even with that snowman? But Olaf shall have to wait for another time. I want to begin the first of no doubt several investigations into the philosophy of Frozen with the quite obvious fact that it draws inspiration from none other than Nietzsche.

Devotees of the mustachioed philosopher may already be aware of a certain penchant for icy imagery:

Wer die Luft meiner Schriften zu athmen weiss, weiss, dass es eine Luft der Höhe ist, eine starke Luft. Man muss für sie geschaffen sein, sonst ist die Gefahr keine kleine, sich in ihr zu erkälten. Das Eis ist nahe, die Einsamkeit ist ungeheuer — aber wie ruhig alle Dinge im Lichte liegen! wie frei man athmet! wie Viel man unter sich fühlt! — Philosophie, wie ich sie bisher verstanden und gelebt habe, ist das freiwillige Leben in Eis und Hochgebirge — das Aufsuchen alles Fremden und Fragwürdigen im Dasein, alles dessen, was durch die Moral bisher in Bann gethan war.

Those capable of breathing the air of my writings know that it is an air of the heights, a strong air. One must be made for it, or there is no small danger that one may catch cold. The ice is near, the isolation is extreme — but how calm all things lie in the light! How freely one breathes! There is so much one feels to be beneath oneself! — Philosophy, as I hitherto have understood and lived it, is choosing to live among ice and high mountains — searching out every odd and queer thing in existence, everything which has hitherto been put under the ban by morality.Ecce Homo, Preface, §3

Or in other words, “Let it go.” And there is no point in the movie so Nietzschean as when Elsa delivers her stirring snow ballad. Let us recall the journey that has brought her to this point. After Elsa accidentally almost permifrosts her sister Anna with her ice magic, her parents command her to conceal her powers, and repress the emotions that amplify them. Her parents promptly die, leaving her alone with her secret (Anna has been memory-wiped by a troll). Elsa keeps this secret for years, struggling to suppress her power lest she hurt those around her. But an emotional argument with her sister on her coronation day escalates into a public demonstration of her abilities, followed by a hasty retreat up the mountain.

And so we find Elsa on the mountaintop. She is alone, in a “kingdom of isolation,” and now that she has been extracted from her social relations, she no longer has to conceal who she is, or hold back her power. The parallels with Nietzsche are especially strong in the second verse (sing along at home):

It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all
It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me,
I'm free!

Here, as in the quote from Ecce Homo above, freedom is identified with isolation, with feeling above one's fellow humans, who now seem small. At the same time that freedom is an escape from society, it is an escape from morality, a transgression of morality: “No right, no wrong” sings Elsa, in a patent homage to the title of another work by Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil. Elsa's true coronation comes when she flees her subjects, and having hidden herself in a castle of her own construction, embodies the noble and severe aristocratic ideal. Now that the mob is no longer dragging her down, her true power is able to manifest, a storm of power, elemental, which unites her with the wind, the sky, the air, the ground.

This moment captures the allure of Nietzsche for our current cultural moment: the idea of an authentic individualism, where one breaks free of society's oppressive norms, and finally expresses the truth about who one is inside. Ours is the age of individual expression. But while “Let It Go” is rightly the most popular song from the movie, this Nietzschean moment comes only at the film's half-way point. And that is because, while Elsa's escape from the tyranny of social norms may be a necessary step for her character, the movie is not content to let her story end there. Rather, this triumph of Elsa's individuality becomes itself only one moment in her personal development, a moment which is itself in some way false, and must be sublated and resolved in a higher truth.

This midway Nietzsche cameo is not unique to Frozen, but finds parallels in Elphaba's “Defying Gravity” ballad from the musical Wicked, and the Witch's rejection of good and evil in her farewell song in Into the Woods. In every case these allusions to Nietzsche actually represent a dissatisfaction with the individualism of Nietzsche and later existentialism, and an attempt to overcome it — the individual must be somehow reintegrated into community.

Frozen wants us to see that Elsa's freedom has come at a cost — it has isolated her from her sister. Though she is free to embrace her power, she cannot yet control it, as evidenced by the fact that she unintentionally ice-zaps her sister again. Her conscious mind is at odds with her id, which is still full of unresolved anger, represented by the large snowman (Olaf also represents another part of Elsa's id — but we said we weren't going to talk about him this time). Elsa's liberation comes at a cost — it threatens to destroy her closest relationships and harm those around her. Perhaps Nietzsche would have seen these costs are necessary, but the movie refuses to leave them unresolved.

How, then, is the problem to be resolved? Elsa was unable to live in community, because the community overrode her individuality with repressive norms. Elsa's newfound individuality in turn rejected any kind of community, even with her sister. Elsa's individuality must be reintegrated into the community in some way. But how? For Frozen, the point of reintegration is mutual, inter-personal love.

This “act of true love” is not romantic love: the movie toys with this option before rejecting it. Romantic feelings are treacherous and deceptive, at least sometimes. Rather, the point of resolution comes through Elsa's relationship with her sister, Anna. At the movie's climax, Anna sacrifices herself to save Elsa from the regicidal Hans. But as Elsa weeps over her sister, Anna is miraculously healed. It turns out that the “act of true love” that was able to heal Anna was not receiving love, but giving love. This proves to be the key to Elsa's redemption as well: through love, she is now able to control her powers, to be an authentic individual while at the same time not harming the community. With this tension resolved, she is able to take up her place as monarch, and become a psychologically healthy, functioning member of society.

So, if this is the philosophy of Frozen, what should we make of it? On the one hand, there are some profound themes here. Those familiar with Christian theology will recognize the theme of the voice of the Law, which can condemn, but cannot bring to life:Rom. 7:7-25 Elsa is unable to obey her parents' command by mere dint of will-power, and she becomes an isolated, tortured, and unloving person in the attempt. Freud's concern with the dangers of repression is relevant here as well: the attempt to suppress dangerous emotions only results in their return with a vengeance.

The portrayal of interpersonal love is also profound. Anna's self-sacrificial love for Elsa has a power that her parents' command lacked. It shows Elsa how to thaw her own heart: if she channels her power through love for another person, it is no longer destructive, but life-giving. Rather than seeing her power as a means to mere individual fulfillment, Elsa can use it as a way to connect her to other people. Through love, understood as an act of self-giving, one can express one's individuality in a way that does not harm the community, and if everyone in the community practices mutual love, then individual and community are harmonized.

On the other hand, we may wonder if it is all so simple. Can Nietzsche be so easily tamed? Can our dark sides, the old Adam in us, be dealt with merely by loving another person? And on the other side, can our journey to authenticity ever render the community harmless? Elsa's return to human society is largely a result of resolving her own inner psychological issues, but as Nietzsche would no doubt point out, “morality” is often a weapon that the community may seek to use to control its members. This objective problem of the inherently oppressive tendencies of community can't be solved merely by subjective psychological growth by individuals, it requires public speech and action. While we generally recognize this problem in community conceived of in the large sense (the state, the mob), it is just as much in force for community in the small sense (me and my friends, me and my lover): one-on-one, interpersonal relationships can also be oppressive and abusive. It may be that estrangement and isolation will always be burdens that must be accepted by those who would challenge the community and stand up for themselves, and so the problem of the individual persists.

As a minor note, we may call attention to the problem of the Law. Frozen sets Law and love over against one another as simple antitheses: Once Elsa has discarded the Law that kills, she has no need to look back. But love does not simply follow our desires or feelings. Often, love must be an action which I don't particularly want to do. Sometimes, it is not even something that the other person wants me to do: like a parent who takes their child to the doctor to get a shot, love sometimes means doing what we know is good for someone, even if it doesn't feel good. But for this to be the case, love must have some kind of principle to guide its action — a law of love. Thus in Christian theology, once God's forgiveness has freed us from the Law in its power to condemn, the Law returns again in a different form, as a law of love, a response of gratitude, no longer something merely outside of us, but something written in our hearts, which nevertheless truly connects us to something outside of us and transcendent.

This raises the question of the transcendent. The answer the movie gives to the dilemmas it raises is purely immanent. There is no transcendent referent point for Elsa's salvation, rather it may be fully realized through other people. If the primary problems with us are individual and psychological, perhaps this is enough. But if sin is something deeper, if humans are not powerful enough to conquer their own inner darkness, if, what's more, there are cosmic powers of evil arrayed against us, then this will not be enough. As profound as is the idea of Anna's self-sacrificial love, it has got nothing on the idea that God has become man and sacrificed himself for us. If Christ's death on the cross is not merely another individual story of love, but also the revelation of the absolute God taking on human darkness, and triumphing over it in the resurrection, then love must have an eternal referent. In this case, even our finite acts of love may be taken up into this great act of love, and receive an eternal significance as participations in the suffering of Christ2 Co 1:5; 1 Pet. 4:13.

Well, those are enough of my thoughts about Frozen for now. Nietzsche wouldn't like any of that stuff I just said about God, by the way. In the interests of giving him the last word (which he seldom gets these days), I'll close with an excerpt from one of his poems:

Ich suchte, wo der Wind am schärfsten weht?
Ich lernte wohnen,
Wo Niemand wohnt, in öden Eisbär-Zonen,
Verlernte Mensch und Gott, Fluch und Gebet?
Ward zum Gespenst, das über Gletscher geht?

Have I searched where wind sharpest blows?
Learned to live,
where none live, a barren, polar bear place,
forsaken man and God, curse and prayer?
Turned a ghost who oer’ glaciers goes?Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, Aftersong, Stanza 6