Animated: “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” is a lesson in empathy
Struggles with appearance never seemed to be an issue for traditional Disney princesses. Their issues were more with external antagonists: evil stepmothers, wicked witches and war-waging villains. The 1996 animated film “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” was the one film that, when I was growing up, felt like the internal conflict was central to the external one.
Adapted from Victor Hugo’s novel of the same name, “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” focuses on Quasimodo, a hunchbacked character who lives in the bell tower of Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral. His “master,” the Judge Minister of Justice Claude Frollo, caused the death of Quasimodo’s mother when Quasimodo was just a baby, and was forced to take Quasimodo in as a form of religious repentance. Frollo has an evil plan to rid Paris of all the Romani people and demands to Phoebus, the new Captain of the Guard, that the Romanis’ safe place, the Court of Miracles, be demolished.
During the Festival of Fools, Quasimodo, Frollo and Phoebus encounter the beautiful Romani dancer, Esmeralda. All three of them develop varying levels of attraction to her, with Frollo experiencing a raging lust that he deems sinful. Enraged by this lust, Frollo orders that Esmeralda be found. Quasimodo and Phoebus must work together to save the woman they both love.
The story is, of course, more complex than that. Above all, though, it’s an expression of what it means to be an outcast. Esmeralda is discriminated against for being Romani. Quasimodo is discriminated against for the visibility of his disability. It’s a theme that I felt a strong connection to, given that growing up I had (and still have) a slight hunch in my shoulders that has negatively affected my perception of self. “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” centers on the idea of the “problem body” and the societal and psychological implications for those affected.
To be honest, I’d never try to compare my struggles with the subtle curve in my shoulders to Quasimodo’s hunchback. I’d hardly try to conflate my position — which, during a consultation, a doctor in Taiwan said was due to my consistently poor posture — with the severity of Quasimodo’s condition by birth.
Still, growing up I found a lot of core emotional relevance — and personal resonance — in Quasimodo, who was ostracized by French society at large for how he looked and developed deep insecurities as a result. As a girl, I wanted to be perceived as beautiful like Esmeralda, but I felt more like Quasimodo.
I absolutely despised going into changing rooms because the three mirrors meant that I would see my side profile, including my hunched-over shoulders. It became normal for me to pull my shoulders forward whenever I was speaking to anyone, if only for the fact that it’d look like I was just extremely invested in the conversation and not that my head was unintentionally more distant from my shoulders than it was supposed to be.
Of course, my self-consciousness probably did magnify these insecurities. For the most part, I feel like most people thought I was simply “slouching” all the time, not knowing that it was an ever-present condition of mine. When I was younger, I was told to wear a back brace and do exercises standing against the wall to fix my hunched shoulders. For a period of time, I did wear a back brace, but it was so uncomfortable that it only furthered my unhappiness and deep sense of self-loathing.
In a world where having hunched shoulders immediately gave off the impression that I was unconfident, I began to feel more insecure. I remember people telling me “straighten your shoulders,” but I just couldn’t seem to.
When I tried not to hunch over, I still felt like I looked abnormal. It got to the point where I would constantly wear a backpack even if I didn’t need one so that my hunched shoulders would look like they were the product of a heavy backpack, rather than my natural position. In photos, I would try to only have my front view featured and would always start comparing myself to people whose shoulders looked “normal.”
The point of this isn’t to say “Oh, I’m just like Quasimodo,” because I’m not, and I think it would be insensitive and harmful to say so. The point is to talk about how representation in animation is so incredibly important. Quasimodo is far from the kind of idealized, proportional character one often sees in animation. To me, that meant something more truthful than Disney’s fairytale retellings. Seeing this character who felt like he could never be loved because of how he looked; that spoke to me on an incredibly personal level.
The moment of devastation when Quasimodo realized that Esmeralda, the love of his life and the only one who had ever shown him kindness, was in love with the traditionally attractive Captain Phoebus was incredibly difficult to watch. I think it was because of the way that the small inkling of hope for love Quasimodo had was erased by the physical reminder that he couldn’t measure up to a romantic ideal.
As a college student, this position of mine is still one of my greatest insecurities. As graduation looms closer, I dread the thought of just walking in my graduation gown because I feel like everyone will be judging my appearance. Knowing that there are others who have experienced similar struggles, though, with characters like Quasimodo, makes me feel a lot less alone.
Valerie Wu is a senior writing about animation and digital arts from a contemporary perspective.